Diplomatic Immunity by Loren Q
Title: Diplomatic Immunity
Author: Loren Q
Rating: NC-17 for male/male sex
Status: new, complete
Archive: Basement, RatB, Slashville, CKoS, all others please ask.
Spoilers: Tunguska, Terma.
Summary: An X-file sometime between Terma and Patient X. Krycek fucks with Mulder's... mind
Warning: My Krycek is not a nice guy. I like him that way.
Beta Thanks: Louise Wu, Zoe T, Ness and Alex.
Disclaimer: Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner and Alex Krycek belong
to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement of rights is intended.
The still of the house is broken by the screams of a young girl.
Three adults, two men and a woman, meet in the hall in front of the door where the screams are emanating. The adults enter to find a young girl sitting up, screaming and pointing to the closed window.
The shorter of the two men tells the other in Russian, "Check the window," then turns to see the woman comforting the child. He hears the woman, his wife, murmuring a lullaby and rocking the girl. The girl, his daughter, is whimpering as he thinks, "This cannot continue to happen. She will go mad."
He turns to issue more orders. The other man is gone. The room is still. No one could have entered or exited the door without his knowing. The window is still closed.
A.D. Skinner's Office
The Next Day
Scully and Mulder sit across from A.D. Skinner as he begins to brief them on a new case. "Agents, this case has international implications. You must be on your best behavior."
Mulder raises his eyebrows in an "Aren't I always" fashion. Skinner catches it and shakes his head. // Why is my best and brightest also the biggest pain in my ass? //
Skinner hands Mulder and Scully copies of the case file. "Last night at the home of a Russian diplomat, the aide, one Yuri Novicov, disappeared into thin air.
"The diplomat, Leonid Pushin, reports that his daughter was screaming and pointing to the window. He told Novicov to check out the window but when he turned around again, Novicov was gone. There are no signs that Novicov left the room by the door and the window's been painted shut for years."
"Would Novicov consider defection?" Scully asks.
"Not likely. Novicov has been serving Pushin for years and Pushin's an up and comer in the diplomatic corps. Pushin's former Russian Army and Novicov was his aide. The report indicates that he was highly trusted by Pushin."
Mulder leafs through the case file. "There's a notation that the police have been called out several times, but no indication of why or what was found."
"Yes, the Pushins have reported hearing sounds, footsteps, knocking from within the home. There's an incident of furniture being moved while they were out, but there's no evidence to support malicious intent, or indicate who the perpetrators may be."
"Yeah, rogue interior decorators are tough to catch."
Scully shoots Mulder a glance. "Sir, why are we being called in? The New York field--"
Skinner holds up his hand. "Agent Scully, you and Agent Mulder were requested. This disappearance isn't cut and dry. It has overtones of--"
An exasperated, "Yes, Agent Mulder." Skinner continues, "The Pushins do not speak English well. Moscow has been contacted and they're sending one of their own to assist in this case. This person is an interpreter who will also act as aide to Pushin until a suitable replacement can be found.
"You will cooperate and share information with your Moscow counterpart. Do I make myself clear, Mulder?"
"Yes, sir." // How come he never asks Scully that? //
"You'll take the 1:00 shuttle to New York, then check in with Agent Mackey in the New York field office."
On the Road to Long Island
"Hey, Scully, wanna get some pizza? There's nothing like New York pizza, you know. All that grease running down your arm... Yum. Hey, Agent Mackey, there any pizza around here?"
"Mulder, did you read the bios on the Pushins?"
"Yeah, Leonid Pushin worked his way up the ranks in the Russian Army, possible black-ops type but no proof, born and will die communist. His wife Maria wants to be Raisa Yeltsin when she grows up. And there's Katarina, the adopted daughter. Not much about her, but she's only twelve."
"No, the part about how long they've been at this address."
"Three months, why?"
"Pushin's been in the diplomatic corps four months. What kind of pull do you need to warrant a house in Long Island?"
Agent Mackey pulls into a private drive. "Agents, we're arrived and it looks like they're here."
Agent Mackey leads them to the living room. Mulder walks over to the window and peers out. The Pushins enter the room. They're a distinctly mismatched pair. He's short, powerfully built, with dark hair and eyes. She's taller than he and willowy with blond hair and translucent gray eyes.
"Agents Mulder and Scully, Leonid and Maria Pushin." Heads nod and hands are shaken. "Oh, and Mr. Pushin's aide, Aleksandr Krycek."
I feel Scully's hand on my arm. That's the only thing preventing me from instinctively beating the shit out of Krycek.
"I believe we've met." Scully's voice is distant behind the roar in my ears. She's reaching out. WHAT! She's shaking his hand.
"Yes, I've spent a fair amount of time in the US." This cannot be happening. Alex Krycek, betrayer, spy, Consortium lackey and all around rat bastard is acting as though this is some cocktail party. He turns to me, hand outstretched. "Agent Mulder?"
An elbow to my ribs, I can't shake his hand // I'd shake his neck in a heartbeat // so I nod and mumble, "Krycek."
He pulls his hand back as I glare at him. He looks back, his expression neutral. I finally look down and notice his left hand. I guess he got the Russian peasant cure for the black cancer. I could almost feel sorry for him, but I won't.
"Agents, would you like to begin the interview or examine the room?" Krycek's voice is calm, dispassionate.
"Examine the room," I reply.
Krycek translates and Pushin nods and turns to lead us out of the room. At the foot of the stairs, Krycek makes an "after you" motion. We troop up a narrow staircase. Scully puts herself between me and Krycek. // Smart move. //
We walk down the hall to the last room on the right. The sight of bright yellow police tape is jarring in this quiet suburban home. Agent Mackey pulls off the tape and opens the door.
I tell myself, "Work mode. Get on the job. I can beat him up after this is done."
The room seems cooler than the rest of the house. It's spartan for a young girl, impersonal. No toys or stuffed animals, just a bed with a chest at the base, an end table, lamp, desk and a small television on a stand.
Pushin begins to speak. He moves into the room, and continues speaking as he points to the window, then gestures toward the bed. He turns suddenly and throws up his hands. // Poof? //
Krycek begins, "Katia was screaming, 'No, stop.' We all ran in and she was pointing to the window saying, 'Stop, stop.' Maria went to her and I told Novicov to see what was in the window. When I turned around, he was gone."
Scully asks, "Where is your daughter?"
A moment for translation and Krycek replies, "With the nanny at the park. We didn't want her here during this."
The report didn't include an interview with Katia. I fire off questions, "Did anyone speak to Katia? Was she looking through the window or at the window? Does she often have nightmares? Is she happy here?"
Krycek turns to Pushin and begins asking my questions. Pushin interrupts and, by the tone of his voice, he's not happy.
"She has nothing to do with this. She's a little girl."
"Krycek, we have to ask. You know that."
Krycek turns again to Pushin. Pushin's eyes widen. // He's not used to being told what to do. // His head nods once and he begins speaking, gesturing once to his wife then shaking his head.
"No, I didn't want anyone to speak to Katia. She was upset enough. It took Maria and the nanny hours to calm her and get her back to sleep. Katia's... she's been having nightmares for a few weeks, but this was worse."
"Krycek, ask if she was happy here." A short exchange follows.
Pushin looks to his wife. She shrugs and says something softly.
"What is happy? We go where Leonid is."
I look around the room again. The furniture is new, newer than any of the other furnishings in the house. "Is this the room where the furniture was moved?" Krycek doesn't finish his translation when Maria's eyes open wide; she gasps and places her hand over her mouth. She regains her composure. She turns to Pushin, says something and then leaves the room.
Pushin speaks, starting with, "Da." That much I know.
"Yes, this is the room. Katia wouldn't sleep in the bed anymore. Maria told her she was being silly, but you know how children are. We got rid of the furniture and all her dolls."
"How about the noises, the knocking sounds. How long have those been happening?"
"A few weeks, maybe longer."
I'm at a disadvantage. Pushin limits his answers // or Krycek does // to only my questions. No coloration, no additional information.
"Agent Mackey, could you escort Mr. Pushin and Mr. Krycek out? I'd like to confer with my partner."
Mackey starts toward the door but Krycek and Pushin begin a discussion. Krycek turns to me. "Mr. Pushin requests that I stay with you two."
Before I can open my mouth, Scully says, "That will be fine."
I'm watching Mulder as he stands toe to toe with Krycek. His hands are in fists, staring Krycek down. Krycek's matching him, but smiling, relaxed.
"Ok, you two." They both look at me. "We have no choice but to work together. Krycek, I don't know how you pulled this off but until this is over you work with us, not against us."
"Not to worry." I hope I can believe him.
Mulder walks over to the window, stops suddenly, backs up then moves forward again slowly, his hands outstretched.
"It's colder by the window."
"Mulder, the glass probably doesn't insulate-"
"No, significantly colder."
Krycek walks slowly to the window, his right hand in front of him. His left hand looks to be injured, no, it's prosthetic. What happened? // Hug you with two good arms... //
As Krycek gets closer to the window, his eyes widen. "He's right." I catch Mulder smiling at him, at first, then a quick frown.
Not to be left out, I walk toward the window, hands out. It's at least a 5-degree difference. I put my hand on the window. It's warmer than the air.
I look up to see if there's an air vent. There's none. Mulder's got that faraway look. I see that Krycek's watching him intently.
"It's a classic poltergeist scenario."
Poltergeist? "Mulder, you're not going to tell me Novicov got sucked into the television."
"No, that's not... A pubescent female, stressful environment, furniture moving, rapping, knocking sounds... There are some cases where disembodied limbs or ghostly shapes appear. We have to interview Katia."
"Pushin won't let you." I had forgotten Krycek was in the room.
"Then you get him to. She's the key, the focus point. We need to find out what she saw or felt. " Mulder's all business now.
"I'll speak with Pushin."
"Tell him we need to stay here too."
This catches me by surprise. "Mulder, what are you talking about?"
"Scully, this has all the earmarks of a poltergeist haunting. We have to be with Katia at all times, see what she sees. Interpret what we see. That's the only way to find Novicov."
Krycek breaks in, "And if nothing happens?"
Mulder gives him an exasperated look. "Two nights. If nothing happens in two nights, we'll try--"
"Yeah, whatever. Just two nights. But we have to speak with her first."
Katia's sitting on the sofa in the living room. She's nervous and withdrawn. She reaches for her mother's hand. Maria, the mother, is cool, regal and fair. Katia has dark hair and olive skin, like her adoptive father.
Krycek pulls a chair close to her, says something that brings a shy smile to the girl's face. He motions Mulder closer. I'm standing off to the side. I don't want Katia to feel overwhelmed.
Mulder hunkers down in front of Katia then looks at Krycek. "Tell her we're not here to scare her. We want to know what's going on so she can stop being scared. Ask her if she can talk about the things that are happening, if she'll answer some questions."
Krycek's voice is low and soothing as he begins translating. Mulder's watching Krycek. He looks surprised by the gentleness of Krycek's voice. When Krycek finishes, Katia squirms a little, then nods.
Mulder looks at her and asks, "Can you speak any English?"
"Little bit. TV. Power Rangers. Hamburgers."
Mulder smiles at her. "Those are my favorites, too. Now Katia, tell me about the sounds and the furniture."
Her voice is whispery and her gestures subdued. She often lets go of her mother's hand only to reach for it again. The mother looks coolly detached. There doesn't appear to be a lot of affection for her daughter.
When she pauses, Krycek translates, all the time looking at Katia, keeping contact with her in some way. "At first, the knocking was funny. Papa and Yuri would go running around all the rooms looking. Sometimes the sounds came from the floor, sometimes the attic. Once from the pantry and all the cans were upside down."
Krycek's voice is warm and steady, hints of humor as if trying to capture Katia's passive delight. Mulder looks at him, almost enraptured by his voice.
"Then the knocking got louder. It would wake me up and scare me. One night I was in bed and the lamp turned off. I turned it back on and my pillow was on the floor. After that it got bad.
"I'd go to my room and my TV would be moved a little. So I would move it back. Sometimes it felt like my dolls were looking at me. I would turn them to the wall and the next day they would be turned around. But I was most afraid of the bed. All the bed covers would be on the floor or the sheet would be on the top. Sometimes all the bed covers would be folded and on the floor.
"I didn't want to sleep in my bed, but mama said there was nothing wrong."
Mulder tears his gaze away from Krycek. We all look at Maria. She's staring out into the garden, bored.
Krycek reaches out and softly strokes Katia's hair, encouraging her to continue. Mulder's looking at him in wonder, as am I. How can this man be so tender?
Katia becomes more animated.
"Papa and Mama went to... somewhere. The nanny took me to McDonalds for dinner and when it was time to go to bed all the furniture in my room was moved. The bed was under the window, the TV... everything was different. I got real scared and couldn't stop crying. Papa and Mama had to come home. The police came too. The police come by sometimes. I got to sleep with Papa and Mama that night. I was a crybaby. The bed scared me and I asked Papa for a new one.
"Mama said there was nothing wrong with the bed, but I was afraid. I thought the bed would hurt me. I slept on the floor at first but then Papa told Yuri to get me a new bed."
Mulder's focus is on Krycek as he expresses her shame and fear.
The room is quiet for a few moments making Katia anxious. She looks at her mother then furtively back to Krycek and Mulder.
A vase shatters behind me. Katia, startled, looks towards me, her eyes widen and she starts screaming. I look behind me. There's a portrait of Maria. Blood is running from the eyes.
We freeze when Katia starts screaming. Except for Scully. She crosses to Katia and holds her, turning her so she can't see the portrait.
Maria shrinks back and Krycek goes to her side, pulls out a cell phone and barks something // orders? // in Russian.
I move to the portrait // colder again // and touch the red liquid. It has that metallic, iodine smell associated with blood, but the texture's more viscous. I'm about to taste it when I feel a hand on my shoulder. It's Krycek shaking his head. "We don't know what this is. Just gather some for analysis." He walks back to Scully and Katia, but I can still feel the warmth of his hand on my shoulder // through my suit jacket? //
I wipe my fingers off onto my handkerchief and pull an evidence bag out of my pocket. I take a sample of the liquid.
Pushin rushes into the room, leading to a heated exchange between him and Krycek. The Pushins leave the room. Scully follows with Katia.
Krycek and I are left in the room. "Agent Mulder, you should call an evidence team." Well, duh.
"Pushin's agreed to you and Scully staying here, at least for tonight. We'll put a bed in Katia's room for Scully. You have the guest bedroom."
"Where's the guest room?"
"Across the hall from mine."
Katia's finally quieted down. The nanny will stay with her until I return. I head to the stairs when I hear Mulder's voice in one of the rooms. The door's ajar and I let myself in.
Krycek's sitting on the bed looking at Mulder, who's leaning against a bookcase talking animatedly. He's got that evangelical look. I don't think he even sees me come into the room.
"... manifestations. It's from the German 'polter' meaning clatter or racket. And 'geist' meaning ghost. There are cases of water spouts-" A book slides partway out of the bookcase. Mulder calmly pushes it back in. He does it so matter-of-factly I'm not sure that I really saw what I think I saw.
"... lights flickering. Also blood running from paintings and mysterious writing-" Another book slides out. Mulder nonchalantly pushes it back.
I look at Krycek, his eyes are wide, his mouth open. He looks like I feel, a combination of fear and awe. I step closer to Mulder. // Mirrors, strings? //
"I told you about the ghostly shapes and disembodied limbs, oh, no offense." Book slides, Mulder pushes.
"There's a report of an English family that had dead lizards and frogs dropped on them during dinner."
This time a book flies out of the bookcase. This stops Mulder. He walks over and stares dumbly at the book on the floor.
Krycek walks over to Mulder, clears his throat. "More often, objects like furniture or chandeliers move." Krycek's voice is shaky but he continues, "Or items thrown about, like dishes and books." Mulder looks at him gratefully and steps closer to Krycek.
I'm not sure what I'm shocked over. Witnessing the book flying or that I'm feeling... jealous? Something's going on between them // fine line between love and hate. // Where did that come from? Book. Get back to the book.
"Gentlemen." That gets their attention. "I'm sure there's an explanation for this."
"Yeah, Scully, and it's a poltergeist."
"There's no scientific evidence to support-"
"Is there any to refute it?" This from Krycek. He's looking intently at me; the tone of his voice suggests an honest question.
He hands me the book. "Poltergeists: Haunting and the Haunted" by Alan Gould and A.D. Cornell.
The Next Morning
I head down for breakfast. Mulder and Krycek are in the dining room eating. Mulder's speaking with his mouth full.
"... but what's more likely to occur with poltergeist activity is RSPK. Recurrent spontaneous psycho kinesis is..." He takes a moment to swallow.
Krycek completes his sentence. "The repeated and uncontrollable movement of objects, without visible cause, over a period of time." Mulder smiles at him.
I cough to get their attention. This startles Mulder; he gives me a sheepish grin, as his ears turn red. Krycek nods and waves his spoon. // I wonder how he eats steak? //
"Mulder, when you've got a free moment, we need to talk."
"Yeah, just let me finish up here."
I toast a bagel in the kitchen // damn, only lite cream cheese. //
Mulder walks in. "Whazzup?"
"What's going on between you and Krycek?" He looks confused, I continue.
"Less than 24 hours ago you would have been first in line to cause him bodily harm. Today, you're like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn." He gives me a smirk, but it's offset by his blushing.
"Which am I?"
"Which am I, Tom or Huck?" He's trying to shift me off topic.
I shake my head. "Mulder-"
He's leaving the kitchen. "Well, at least I'm not Becky Thatcher."
I'm not so sure about that.
The Following Night
I can't sleep so I start typing my field notes. Scully and Katia went to bed at nine. Krycek and the Pushins around eleven.
It was pretty quiet during the day. The lab is still analyzing the viscous liquid. We've seen a few objects move. Or as Scully pointed out, 'Saw that they had been moved.'
There were two distinct knocking incidents. Krycek investigated the first one. I did the second. Neither of us found anything. I wanted to call him "Huck," but didn't feel like trying to explain it.
I feel a little niggling thought in the back of my brain.
Notes done. Maybe I'll see if Krycek's up, I'd like to borrow a book.
I'm jolted awake by a fire alarm. // Shit! I hate fire. // I jump out of bed and dash into the hall.
Krycek's there, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, his stump extending from the end of the sleeve. I fixate on the stump until Scully rushes past us, Katia pulled up against her.
I see smoke coming from under the door of the Pushin's room. Krycek and I race for the door. I reach for the knob but pull away from the heat. Krycek shoulders the door open. // That's gotta hurt. //
I take a lungful of smoke as it billows out of the room. I double over coughing and choking. I'm panicking. I can't take a breath without inhaling smoke. Krycek rips his t-shirt off and shoves it in my face. "Get out of here, Mulder. I've got it."
I back out of the room, breathing deeply into his t-shirt // a little musky, spicy. //
Krycek emerges with Pushin, Maria between them. We all make it downstairs and out of the house. The Pushins run down the lawn to where Scully and Katia are waiting.
We head over to the little crowd as they watch the house burn.
Katia's still pressed against me and I can feel her trembling violently. There are sirens in the distance. Her parents are off to the side.
Mulder's been standing next to me for a while, holding a towel or something against his face.
"Hey, Mulder, can I have my shirt back? I'm getting cold."
Mulder looks at his hands. "Uh, yeah, thanks." Krycek struggles putting the shirt back on. A slightly disgusted look crosses his features and Mulder moves to help him.
It is cold. Mulder's only wearing sweat bottoms. I look closely at him. Despite the coolness of the early morning, his face has a sheen of sweat. "Are you alright?" He nods and mumbles, "Fire, I just hate fire. Give me shape shifting aliens any day." He then gives me a weak smile.
I watch Mulder as he surreptitiously watches Krycek.
Another arm gone. I should just give 'em up. Maybe I'll get a hook next time, not attractive but it lends a certain, I don't know, panache?
They brought us to a reasonably nice hotel. At least there's a bathrobe. Running around in boxers and t-shirts doesn't suit me.
I pick up the ice bucket and head down the hall. I can hear Scully and Mulder talking by the ice machine. I sidle up to overhear them.
"... borders on passionate. You're fawning all over him."
"No, I'm not." He sounds flustered. "I, I'm just appreciating his willingness to listen to me."
"You're appreciating something, that's for sure."
"Scully, he most likely killed my father. Why would you think that I'm interested in him?"
"Look, we've never talked about this and I don't know if this is the time, but he's got some hold over you. And you're enjoying it."
I wonder if she's enjoying it too. I move quietly back to my room.
I lay on the bed thinking how clever it was of me to get that secondhand paperback on poltergeists.
I *thought* Mulder still wanted me. If Scully can see it, it must be love. It's a hell of a lot better than him beating the shit out me. I wonder if he gets it yet? Sublimating his lust with violence...
I know it's hard for him to keep his hands off me. He told me so once, long ago. Of course, I doped him up so he doesn't remember telling me, but I know.
How do I want to play this?
We've settled the Pushins in an apartment in Manhattan. Pretty cramped compared to what they were used to. Scully's still with Katia and I'm forced to share a room with Krycek.
It's the night after the fire. Surprisingly the damage was limited to the Pushin's bedroom. The rest of us were able to gather our clothes // sniff, ugh, smoke // to move in here.
The lab results show the liquid from the painting is blood. But it's not Maria's type so they're checking DNA. Scully's investigating seismic disturbances and radon.
She thinks I've been paying too much attention to Krycek. I don't think I am. He's just different from her. // Taller, more muscled. // He's almost unconditionally receptive to my ideas. Not that that's better than Scully, just... different.
I like bouncing ideas off him // what else could I bounce off him? //
He's attentive, smart and open to extreme possibilities. If he weren't such a scum sucking low life, I could get to like him.
"Which bed do you want?" Krycek asks as we look over the room.
There are two twin beds, about three feet apart with a shared nightstand and lamp. There's a single dresser and a desk.
Which bed, I can see it now, 'I'll take the left, right?' and that'll lead to 'Right, the left' then who knows where we'll end up. Possibly in the same bed! Deep breaths, loosen the shoulders...
"I don't care, you decide."
"Mulder?" Krycek's sitting at the desk.
"Yeah?" I reply from my bed.
"Do you ever think about that night I shot Augustus Cole?"
"Why should I?"
Krycek moves to his bed and faces me. His brow is furrowed, like he's not sure whether he's going to continue. "I've never gotten it out of my mind. You were really concerned about me."
"Yeah, like that mattered."
"It did. It does. Do you know why I was pulled from the FBI assignment? I couldn't do what the Syndicate wanted me to do... to you. Haven't you ever wondered why I don't fight back?"
I sit up to face him. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Oh, I don't know. We've never really had the chance to talk about it. It's not something I thought to bring up while you were pounding on me." There's a hint of humor in his // incredibly expressive // voice.
"Krycek, the only reason my face, uh, my fist isn't in your face is because of this case. I'm on my best behavior."
He ducks his head and looks at me through his // long, lush // eyelashes. "I guess I should be grateful for that. Good night Mulder."
I can't sleep. I can hear Krycek's steady breathing above the sounds of the city.
I get up and walk over to the window. The moon's bright, despite the lights of New York--the city that never sleeps.
Maybe I'll get something to eat. I turn away from the window and see Krycek' s sleeping body caught in the moonlight.
The sight of him makes me catch my breath. His unlined face looks young and innocent. His lips are slightly parted and pouting.
His right arm is above his head. There are slight sweat stains in the armpit of his t-shirt. I remember his scent, musky and spicy.
I go back to my bed, lie on my side, looking at him. I fall asleep.
The Next Night
There haven't been any disturbances since the fire and still no sign of Novicov. We have one more day before they pull the plug and take us off the case.
The lab came back with DNA typing on the blood from the picture. It had several markers that were a match with Katia. Scully spent most of the day at the lab verifying those results.
She came back reporting that it was a high probability that the blood is not Katia's, but that of a close relative.
I'm putting on sweat pants when Krycek comes into the bedroom. "Bathroom's free, your turn to wash up."
When I return from the bathroom Krycek's in his t-shirt and boxers, sitting up at the edge of his bed. He looks troubled. I sit across from him, our knees almost touching. "What's up?"
"Mulder." There's a long pause. "Mulder, I don't know how to talk about this. But I have to, it may be my only chance."
There's an edge of desperation in his voice as he continues, "I have these feelings... I can't explain it, but you... I think you have these feelings, too."
He looks at me, a little afraid. I'm floored. I jump up and start pacing. I know I'm babbling... something about transference.
Krycek stands and moves toward me. He puts his hand on my shoulder then moves his hand to my face and presses his finger against my lips, "Shhhh." Is he trying to shut me up // or turn me on? //
"Mulder, I can't, I won't make the first move." With that he returns to his bed and sits down.
It's been so long since I've made any moves, I'm not sure where to start //am I really going to go through with this? //
I sit on the bed next to him. I lean towards him and kiss him. His tongue enters my mouth and plays along my teeth. He pulls away, nipping at my lower lip. I feel his hot breath, then mouth, on my neck. Kisses interspersed with soft bites...
His hand travels under my shirt along my back when I hear him whisper, "Take it off."
We're both breathing hard and fumbling a little as we strip. He's built better than I thought he would be and not at all shy about his missing arm. // I would be. //
He moves so he's standing in front of me. He cups my face with his one hand. His thumb caresses my lips. I hear an involuntary moan escape me. He leans down to kiss me, tongue exploring, then pulls away while scraping his teeth on my lower lip.
He stands up, his fully erect cock just inches from my mouth. I look up at him // imploringly? // He nods.
I take his cock in my mouth; it tastes clean, just a little salty. His hand is in my hair, pulling it just slightly. // God, that feels good. //
His cock is hefty, both long and thick. I don't think I've ever blown anyone this size. I gag a bit, but keep going.
He pulls me away by my hair, looks down at me and with a husky whisper says, "Tell me."
I say the first thing that pops into my head "Fuck me, Alex." // Christ! Where did that come from? //
He looks at me with a slow smile and a raised eyebrow. I could get lost in his eyes.
He tells me to wait, goes over to the closet and rummages around in his suitcase. He comes back holding condoms and lube. He drops them on the bed next to where I'm sitting.
"You need to help me, there are things I can't do with just one arm."
"Just tell me what to do."
He bends down to kiss me again. He strokes my cock, just once, then pulls away as he stands up. My cock's beginning to ache, I don't think it's ever been this hard.
"Stand up and turn around." As I do, he hands me the bottle of lube. "I want you to lube my fingers." He's holding his hand in front of me. Knowing how big his cock is, I smear a liberal amount of lube onto his first and middle fingers.
"Bend over." I comply.
I feel one finger enter me, a little painful at first. The lube is cool, his finger is hot and I begin to loosen up. He's pumping his finger in my ass slowly, letting me get used to it.
A pause, then two fingers are in me. By now, I'm ready, way beyond ready. "Alex, God, please fuck me!"
He pulls his finger out and moves me out of the way. He lies down on the bed and hands me a condom.
"Open it, drop some lube in it and hand it to me." I do. I watch as he rolls the condom just over the head of his cock. "Finish it, use your mouth."
I push the condom down the full length of his cock, almost gagging, but strangely proud that I can take him in.
"Good, that's good." He says as he pulls my head away by my hair. // I'm really liking that. //
He motions with his head; I'm not sure what he wants until he says, "Sit on my dick."
I get up over him, my knees on either side of his hips. He reaches for my hand and puts it on his cock. "Put it in."
I slowly descend on him. I've never been fucked this way. It's incredible. I watch him as he watches me. I can't *not* look into his face, his eyes. I may be on top, but he controls the speed with the pumping of his hips.
He starts stroking my cock, matching the speed and rhythm of our fucking.
It's not long before I come. And in the moments after my orgasm, I look down at Alex. His head is thrown back and I feel him as he explodes into me.
I slump down on top of him, trying to catch my breath. It feels good, just lying on his chest, his heart beating beneath me. I can't believe I just had sex with Alex Krycek. As the reality of what I've done hits me, he rolls over, sending me sprawling.
Alex eyes me as he removes the condom. He ties off the end and hands it to me. // What am I supposed to do with this? //
I get up to toss the used condom. When I turn around, I see Alex sitting up looking around. He grabs my t-shirt and wipes off his groin and chest, then the headboard.
I catch his eye, he throws my shirt on the floor, then pats the bed next to him.
It's not exactly an engraved invitation, but I return to him.
We don't exactly curl up together either. None of that post-coital niceness, "Honey, was it good for you?" I suppose that would be better than, "Honey, why exactly did you kill my father?"
Alex is sound asleep, his breath steady, with an occasional snore. I've got a long night ahead of me.
Knocking on the door. "Mulder?" Shit, it's Scully.
I scramble, jumping out of Krycek's bed. Pulling on my sweats and t-shirt as I head for the door.
"Yeah, Scully." I open the door, yawning and scratching my head. // Am I overdoing it? //
Scully's brow knits together and she gives me a look I can't define. Oh shit, my bed, it's still made. Can she see my bed?
"Um, Mulder--it's after nine, we need to get started... Soon. We've got that meeting with the Pushins at ten."
I nod and she starts down the hall, looking once over her shoulder at me.
I turn around. Krycek's in my bed. // Thank you God! // He points at me and starts laughing. He can't speak he's laughing so hard.
I look down. My t-shirt, oh hell! It's stained and bunched up in front. The wrinkles held together by dried semen. Crap.
We're gathered in the living room. Scully, Katia and Maria on the sofa. Pushin, Krycek and I are sitting in chairs around the coffee table.
Scully is reviewing the DNA findings on the blood sample from the portrait. As she's speaking, she reaches for her cup of coffee. The cup starts vibrating on the saucer. The table starts shaking violently.
The sugar bowl flies off the table and smashes into the wall. Spoons are levitating then flinging themselves at Maria.
Maria starts screaming hysterically and pointing at Katia.
Pushin grabs Maria by the shoulders, shaking her. She's still screaming when he roars something at her. Maria pulls back as though slapped.
Pushin moves over to Katia, gets down on his knee and whispers quietly to her. He then pulls her into a hug.
The air gets still and the table stops shaking.
"What just happened?"
Krycek's voice is strained. "Maria was saying Katia's cursed. She's a devil child, a gypsy. Who knows who her parents were? They should kill her, after all, she's not blood.
"Pushin just told Maria that he *is* Katia's natural father. The birth mother was a civilian servant at the compound he ran. Katia was taken from her at birth. No one knew but Pushin. He planned the adoption."
I get on my cell phone. "Yeah, I need anything you can find out about-" I move the phone away from my mouth. "Krycek, the name, I need Katia's mother's name!"
Krycek asks, then turns to me. "Put the phone away. Her name was Tatiana Glukova. Pushin's kept tabs on her. After Katia was taken, Tatiana was sent to an asylum. She died two months ago."
I get back on the line "Hey, forget it. Thanks." I put the phone away.
I glance about trying to assess the damage. Aside from the detritus of flying pottery and silverware, Maria struggles to regain composure all the while watching Pushin comfort his daughter.
The silence is broken by Scully's cell phone.
"Scully." I watch her brows knit together as she listens to her call. She raises her eyebrows then nods twice. "Yes sir. His condition?" A pause, then, "I'll let Agent Mulder know. Thank you."
Scully looks at us. "They just found Yuri Novicov wandering in Long Island. He has no idea where he's been, or how long he's been gone. He's at a hospital now. He doesn't appear to be injured, but they're keeping him overnight for observation.
"A.D. Skinner said to head back on the next shuttle."
Krycek is in the room as I start to pack. I swallow, "So what now?"
"With Novicov back, I'll be heading to Moscow by this time tomorrow."
"I didn't mean that, I meant-"
"I know what you meant. What should I say? That we'll ride off in the sunset together?"
I turn away from him. Why did I bother? I'm throwing things in my carryall when I feel his hand on my shoulder. He spins me around and kisses me hard.
My hands go around his waist as his hand is behind my head. // Pull my hair, pull my hair. //
I break the kiss to catch my breath. His hand moves around and down my shirtfront. He uses his fingernails to pinch my nipples. My knees are weak.
His hand continues downward and he starts rubbing my erection through my pants. I put my head on his shoulder, moaning. I don't know if I can keep standing.
He stops rubbing and takes a step back from me. His hand on my shoulder gently pushes me down to my knees. He opens his fly and I automatically lick my lips.
He rubs his cock over my face, then stops and brushes it against my lips. I open my mouth and lick the head. My hands wrap around his thighs and I take as much of him as I can down my throat.
He reaches down and runs his fingers through my hair, holding my head still. He starts fucking my face. With every thrust I hear him moan or growl. With every moan or growl, my cock twitches. I fumble with my pants trying to free myself, stroke myself when I hear him say, "No, don't touch yourself yet." My hand goes back to his thigh, leaving my cock still trapped in my pants.
I feel him shudder, his hand gripping my hair as he comes in my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, but I feel his cum drip out of the side of my mouth.
He pulls out of my mouth, puts his hand under my chin and motions me up. He kisses me, tasting himself on me.
He again rubs my cock through my pants. He strokes, once, twice and I come. My knees buckle and I throw my arms around his neck. He walks me back so I can sit on the bed.
I watch him as he tucks his cock in his pants and does himself up. He looks like nothing happened.
He turns to me. "I have to go now. I think you'd better change your suit."
Scully's outside waiting. I start to head out when I hear Krycek speaking in Russian. His tone of voice is different, more forceful. I peer around the corner in time to see Pushin salute Krycek.
"Mulder, hurry up! We're going to miss the shuttle."
On the shuttle flight to DC
Scully nudges my arm. "You seem far away."
I nod, staring out the window.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head.
A few minutes of silence pass, I turn to her. "Scully, radon?" that opening allows us to discuss the case. A sought after distraction.
"Mulder, do you think this closes the case? Do we know what really happened?"
"We know what we saw. Every culture, throughout history, has its stories of hauntings, of ghosts. Perhaps poltergeist activity is the outer manifestation of the inner stresses of puberty combined with psychic pain. Or maybe we witnessed the crying out for justice by a soul done wrong."
It's going to be a long flight to Moscow.
It was a worthwhile trip. I put Pushin in his place, completed my report on Katia's psycho kinetic ability and fucked Fox Mulder in more ways than one. // Sometimes I love my work. //
I stretch out, my hand behind my head and replay my own private movies for the long trip home.
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