Sandy walked out of the bathroom, into Mulder’s startled gaze. It took her a moment to work out why he was looking so surprised, then she realised, out of habit, she’d wrapped the towel around her waist only, and he was no longer looking her in the eye. She reached up and flicked a thumb over one of her exposed nipples, making it pucker, never looking away from his face, then slowly walked over towards him, and let the towel drop to her ankles. There were no more questions in his eyes now, no more uncertainty. Leaning forward she met him half way, and slowly sucked in his odd lower lip, worrying it gently with her own. His hands came up around her back, pulling her against him, rubbing firmly against her spine and shoulders.

Sandy forced his teeth apart and started fucking his mouth with her tongue. He smelt of honest sweat from their run, he felt young and strong, and she was intoxicated by his taste. Desire throbbed from her groin, and her skin tingled and chilled wherever he touched her. She grabbed the back of his T shirt and simply tore it away, the unfamiliar strength of this desire making her forget to take it slowly, to allow him to be the seducer. She could feel his cock hardening through his sweat pants where it was pressed into her belly and she groaned hungrily deep in her throat. It had been so long since she’d felt that, felt the strength of a man’s desire. She reached into his pants and allowed her finger tips to slide into the thick pubic mound, as his hands slid lower to grasp and fondle her butt, hard enough to almost lift her from the ground.

She gave herself over totally to her awakening female sexuality and the intoxicating presence of Mulder.

He released her mouth to suckle mouth-fulls of her dewy skin, fresh from the shower. Her full bore-sexuality was getting to him, and when she whispered, "Bed," it was easy to forget all of his previous suspicions and simply dump her onto the seldom used mattress.

Sandy swept magazines and video tapes onto the floor as he shed the last of his clothes. She knelt on the bed, on all fours, watching him intensely, her mouth slightly open, and he was reminded of nothing so more as an animal on heat as her gaze never wavered from his every move.

He knelt on the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her, and was not terribly surprised when she easily lifted and dropped him prone on the middle of the bed.

Mulder pulled her down towards himself, opening his mouth to take in her small pink nipples, flicking them with his tongue until they puckered, then releasing them, knocking the succulent breasts with his nose to make them sway. He tried to touch as much of her as he could reach, difficult as she had him pinned efficiently to the bed. Not since the Beast Woman had he been thrown down by a woman this sexy and strong.

He stroked her thighs and perfect butt, at least this woman wasn’t going to try and tear his chest open. He hoped. Her hands were everywhere on his body, she seemed to be trying to map everything she could touch, commit it to memory.

She straddled his thighs and surveyed her prize hungrily, not bothering with kissing, caressing, hand holding, or even body stroking before dropping her head to his groin. There was none of the vacillation or distaste he’d had from some other lovers as she took the head of his cock in her mouth. He groaned and dropped his head back on the pillows as her tongue flicked out without hesitation to sweep up the tiny drop of precum. He lifted up onto his elbows and groaned as her head started to bob. Her small perfect breasts swayed slightly with every movement, her pink tongue tip flicked and dipped over the head of his penis, and it felt like his skin was on fire wherever she touched him. God, he hadn’t been turned on this uncontrollably in years, not since Phoebe on the grave site, not since Detective White had jumped his bones.

He reached down to grab her shoulders, pulling her up the bed, and laying across her. Not still for a second she wriggled up against him, pushing her breasts against his chest, her hips up to meet his. Her small animal noises of excitement inflamed him further, and he pushed his turgid organ between her legs. She was still too dry, so he used his fingers to excite her, finding the tiny pearl of her clitoris, and stimulating it with his thumb so her hips writhed and undulated beneath him. She continued kissing aggressively, using her hands on his ass to try and pull him down onto her.

"Whoa, Sandy, slow down..." he tried. He couldn’t reach the condoms with her clinging to him like a demented octopus, so he made a wish she was on the pill. She has to be, she would take care of something like that, wouldn’t she?

It was too soon, she wasn’t ready, and Mulder tried to open her up a little, despite her squeaking protests: her intent, it seemed, to try and absorb him whole with her arms, legs and mouth. He slipped one finger into her, pushing up against the front of her vagina, crushing her clitoris against the pubic bone with his wrist. He engulfed her smaller perfect mouth with his own, sucking up her sighs and moans. It had been a long time since he’d been with such a noisy partner, he thought, thoroughly enjoying the almost surprised sounds of her pleasure.

She groaned, long and hard, as he finally gave in and started to push into her. He smiled in his mind, I’m not that good, Sandy, but I’m flattered anyway. And started a gentle rocking motion, trying awkwardly to hold onto her waist or hips to stop her pushing back too hard.

Sandy wrapped her legs around his hips, using the hard muscles in her legs to hold him in place, to try and force him to give her what she wanted.

It was dry, it was uncomfortable, it hurt, he was too big, he was splitting her open, he was Mulder, it was wonderful. After all the years of frustrated, obsessive desire, to finally have him. Mulder’s smell, Mulder’s spit on her lips, his body inside hers – held safe and close. Her head was spinning with bliss, her nerves electrically sensitive to everything about him, "Mulder... Mulder..." finally she could say his name in passion...

Her first time with heterosexual sex, and so long wanting this man. So long without any human contact at all it seemed sometimes, years without touching another human being – wanting this man all the time: and as his thumb pressed down again in just the right spot, forced down by the weight of his body, as his chest and belly crushed her into the bed, she felt the waves spread out from her groin and gasped for air as orgasm hit her. Her whole body alive, from navel to knee the tingling contractions spread, the intensity from where their bodies were joined almost too much to bear and she cried out with joy and bit into his shoulder until the wonderful pressure slowly abated.

"So, that’s what it’s like," she whispered softly as the spasms slowed and faded, and she relaxed into the bed.

"Huh?" Mulder questioned, but he didn’t try and follow up her odd comment, as now she was finally relaxed, finally opening up enough, finally soft and juicy enough for him to slide without hindrance.

I’ve finished now, she thought, her desire suddenly and wonderfully assuaged, you can get off me now. But she stayed quiet and relaxed, and... and it was quite nice – this was quite nice too. His hand was at the small of her back, adjusting her position expertly, his mouth was soft and tender – kissing her face. The soft hair on his chest brushed her nipples with each move against her, bringing them up hard again, and she sighed and started to move again, arching up to encourage the depth of enfolding. The bulk of him filling her was such a new and unusual sensation, she imagined he was filling her all the way to her belly and smiled at the whimsy. She could feel the relaxation spreading to every part of her body, and cooed to him her pleasure.

She knew that first orgasm had been mostly mental excitement; caused through her success and long delayed satisfaction at finally having him in her arms, rather than purely physical. But this time, with his steady movements, his hands caressing every part of her body... she gyrated her hips instinctively, finding the pressure just so, the pleasure just there and arched her back as she realised she was going to come once more.

"Oh, Mulder, again, I’m coming," she whispered her warning, then realised this partner she didn’t have to warn: so much to learn, to experience with him.

His hips moved faster, pistoning, bouncing her off the mattress, and she rode them, squeezing him to her with all her not inconsiderable strength, and she came again, hard, against his last rabbit like thrusts – her vagina squeezing and contracting around his long thick cock, squeezing it like milking a cow.

"Wow," she muttered softly, as he collapsed on top of her; heavy, wet, and smelling of sweat and sex, and Mulder, and utterly divine. Wasn’t a mutual orgasm like that supposed to be really difficult with men and women? she wondered. Ah well, who cares, I finally had him. After all this time, for better or worse, he’s mine now.

"I’m going to be late for work," he muttered from somewhere near her left breast.

"Be late."

He nodded in agreement, and dozed on her, totally relaxed, utterly enervated.

Krycek watched from his hide as Mulder left for work. He grinned to himself at Mulder’s less than FBI standard choice of a turtle-neck under his jacket. Hiding a few hickeys there, are you, Mulder? Good work! he mentally congratulated Sandy.

He fingered the keys in his pocket, the keys to Mulder’s apartment Mulder didn’t know Sandy had had made. Time to leave Mulder another little... gift. It hadn’t been too hard to get hold of the tapes and files of his ‘treatment’, and even though he had no way of viewing the tapes himself, with no access to a VCR, if they were anything like the written files, they had to tell a very interesting story. They’d been thrown away, sent for sanitary disposal. Just so much trash - just like the subject of the files. He bared his teeth to himself in an expression of pure hatred as he slipped into Mulder’s place. He’d use Mulder, and Mulder would love it. Love getting this information, as it would allow both of them some justice.

Krycek was prepared to do just about anything by now. He’d tried co-operating with the Consortium, and had lost everything that gave life meaning. He’d tried working against them, and had nearly lost his life altogether. Many times. He’d tried running, but he had nothing to run towards. He was still alive: but living like a bum or a wanted criminal didn’t agree with him. He wanted to sleep at night, to know he wouldn’t wake up looking down the barrel of a gun... or worse. Now it was time to fight - or get Mulder to fight on his behalf.

Manipulating Mulder wasn’t going to be all that easy, but it was going to be very enjoyable. His body stirred at the vision of Mulder and Sandy together; their bodies sliding over each other, primal passion making them sweat, Sandy buffed by the force of Mulder’s lust. Who would have guessed heterosexual intercourse could be so enjoyable! Maybe Mulder would take this stuff to the media, that would screw the bastards. He was putting Mulder’s life in jeopardy, giving the Agent this information, but that was hardly a new state of affairs. Mulder was always in trouble, thrived on it. Unlike himself. Living on his nerves like this wasn’t healthy, and he wondered if it was giving him ulcers – certainly he’d gained a little weight from his comfort eating, that was a bad habit he’d have to try and break sometime. Not that it would matter if he gained a few pounds before he died sometime soon, he sure could use some comfort now and then. He sighed and girded mental loins, time to pass the ball to Mulder, let him play it out for a while, let someone else have the responsibility.

Krycek made a mental note to himself to find some way of paying back those who had helped him get this stuff, one day when he was back on his feet. Cody who, with her usual methodical care, had tracked the files to their destination; Gil who’d slipped them into his cleaning cart and hauled them past all security; and Gil’s brother Jack, who’d passed them onto Krycek over the counter of his leather-gear shop.

What those Consortium bastards had forgotten to take into consideration was that Krycek had friends. Maybe not friends in high places, but friends never-the-less.

Oh yeah, Krycek was good at making friends, at adjusting his personality just a little to adapt to every new person’s needs. It was a skill that helped him survive as a kid, but it was a skill that had helped bring him to the attention of the Consortium... that and... other... things.

Trying to be what Mulder wanted was easy, it was so close to Krycek’s natural state, but it had still proven difficult to get past the defences against hurt and ridicule Mulder had had in place since childhood. Difficult, but not impossible. He could have done it if he’d had just a little more time. A few less mistakes, or less interference from his ex-boss during the Duane Barry case, and he could have established himself in Mulder’s trust. Ah well, useless speculation now.

He helped himself to some unpleasant leftovers in Mulder’s fridge and wondered if he dare take a nap on Mulder’s bed while the man was at work. Probably not, he thought, yawning, these early mornings may not be natural, but they weren’t worth getting caught here for.  

Mulder slipped in the second video tape. When these had arrived he’d grinned, thinking they were from Frohike, another swap from his collection of weird pornography, a swap for some of Mulder’s own. Mulder had hoped for something really sick, something to distract him from everything that had been happening lately, but what he’d seen had been more shocking than anything Frohike could turn up.

He watched as a naive young man was systematically and thoroughly turned into a killer; into a tool to be used by the Consortium. He’d seen this type of thing before, he shouldn’t have been so shocked. Mulder had spoken to the pilot Jack Schaefer, who didn’t even know if he existed – who had been so unbalanced by what he’d witnessed, perhaps by what he’d experienced, that he didn’t know if he was eating mashed potatoes in a diner. Mulder thought of the pilot’s words, ‘People enter an ordinary room, talk to a few doctors, and leave convinced they’d been abducted by aliens’. But watching it happen to someone he knew, someone he’d worked with, and had even started to almost trust at one stage... This explained a lot. Or at least, it answered a few questions. Although it didn’t explain his sudden uncontrollable craving for sweet potato pie...

Interview One: Krycek A

"Mr. Krycek, you’ve been following the work of Special Agent Fox Mulder?"

"Yes, sir." Curiosity showed in Krycek’s voice, but not nervousness. He sat with his unflattering FBI standard hair cut, cheap suit, and his smooth fresh face, bolt upright and listening to every word of the man talking to him with the attention of a dog being shown a soup bone.

"Your own work to date with the FBI, as well as your record at Quantico has shown an inordinate interest in the paranormal. Is there any particular reason for that?"

"No... No, sir, not really. I mean, it’s interesting, and everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the normal cases." Krycek was clumsily hedging his bets on his assignment. "I decided to specialise in the area of..."

"Yes, yes, we know your history." The speaker pushed a cup of coffee over to Krycek "It is your interest in the paranormal which interests us, Mr. Krycek. I’ve read your thesis on Mulder’s work, it was certainly... illuminating."

Krycek leant forward slightly, trying not to appear too eager.

"It has proved necessary to break up the partnership of Agents Mulder and Scully, and to disband the X Files; for reasons that I shall explain later. Despite this action, we feel that Agent Mulder may attempt to continue his investigations into the paranormal. This is where you come in."

"You want me to stop him?" Krycek looked perplexed, unhappy with the idea.

"No, no, far from it." The man smiled, obviously trying to be re-assuring.

"We need you to help him, to keep him out of trouble. We have tried assignment to more hmmm... ‘normal’ cases, but we fear he will continue to investigate what he calls ‘extreme possibilities’. It is to our benefit, in fact to everyone’s benefit, that he continues to unravel many mysteries to solve these paranormal cases..."

Krycek’s face was going blank, the drugs they had fed him through the coffee were taking effect...

"But Agent Mulder is trespassing into dangerous areas."

Mulder hit the pause button, stopping to read the accompanying files, matching dates on the files to the interview dates to find out which file for which tape. Krycek’s history was perfect, he must have really annoyed his classmates, Mulder grinned to himself as he read of the darling teacher’s pet Krycek had been. Cute little thing he must have been as well, straight out of college into the FBI training programme. Perfect scores on everything, but just weird enough, just nerd enough, to be unpopular with the other trainees. And doing a thesis on Mulder’s own work – a study of the psychology of self-identified abductees of all things – that couldn’t have gone down well with the-powers-that-be either. His IQ wasn’t as high as Mulder’s own, but he looked at the ID photo of the young Krycek as he was then, head strong and stubborn, follow his own path and be damned. He could almost have been a younger version of Mulder.

No wonder they sent you to destroy me. Believing you were doing the right thing, by your government, even protecting the man you admired to the point of having a sweet crush on me. Scully had been their most dismal of failures. Sending a sceptic didn’t work, so they thought they’d try a believer, someone who believed in what I did, someone who believed in me – who I believed in – to destroy me instead. But Scully had proved to be Mulder’s shining prize. She kept him sane, kept him whole. And Krycek had proved to be... what? What had Krycek proved to be? A probable murderer, or at least, an accessory to murder. They had nothing on Krycek that would stand up in court, no matter his own, or Scully’s, feelings on that point. Well, dead was one thing that Krycek could prove to be, it had been so long since Mulder had seen the would-be assassin.

Mulder wondered where these files had come from – perhaps that venal bastard – there was no one else he knew who was so happy to give him information on his erstwhile partner – his now enemy. He guessed there’d be no reason for Mulder to receive these tapes unless Krycek was dead, and therefore no longer considered a threat to the Consortium. His informant wanted Cancerman out, this was another way of undermining him. Giving Mulder useless information on a dead mole. A programmed assassin.

Mulder contemplated not sharing these with Scully, she didn’t need to be reminded again of her sister’s death, but she did have the right to know. He knew better than to try and protect Scully – she’d disembowel him just for thinking like that.

As if thinking of the devil summoned her, she called to say she was on her way, via her favourite fast food joint for another bucket of fried chicken. Mulder was vaguely jealous, she consumed huge amounts of fatty fried foods and stayed gorgeous, whether thin or pocket Venus, whereas he was stuck with sunflower seeds and endless laps of the pool without ever getting the six-pack abs he craved.

Mulder started up the VCR again, preparing for his own private showing of Clockwork Orange in reverse. The only sounds while he waited were the quiet rumblings of the television, and the clicking of the sunflower seeds.

Scully let herself in, she didn’t feel the need to stand on ceremony with Mulder. As long as she didn’t walk in to find him jerking off to a porno video, she felt she could come and go as she wished. She would have slapped his face had he taken the same liberty with her own home.

"Hey, Mulder," she greeted him, and dropped a snack box of chicken on his lap, letting him bitch about the grease as she helped herself to a soda from his fridge. "What are you watching?"

He flipped her a file and let her make up her own mind as she sat beside him, eating the Colonel’s best and flicking through the paper work.

"Hmm, so Krycek was gay..." she murmured.

"You guessed?"

"Or at least bi. He looked at you like... like he was staring at a full moon, Mulder."

"Is that why you hated him so much, huh?" he teased her gently, and earned a glare over the top of her reading glasses for his efforts.

"I didn’t hate him..."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief

"I didn’t! It’s just that... having someone who believes everything you say like that... Well, without the voice of reason to hold you back, you could... some situations..." she floundered, knowing full well she was lying. She’d been jealous as hell of the young agent as he’d wheedled his way into Mulder’s trust. "Oh, eat your chicken."

"Yes, ma’am," he saluted her with a drumstick.

"It looks like they hoped he would end up being a lot more than just your partner, Mulder. Do you really think he could have seduced you?"

"That wasn’t part of his assignment," he hedged.

"No, but he was programmed to be in love with you... well, actually, according to these files he was pretty much obsessed with you and your work long before they got hold of him. With that in his subconscious, there’s a good chance he would have taken the opportunity to get to you should it have arisen."

"Yeah, well, it didn’t." Mulder wasn’t sure why the idea made him uncomfortable. It wasn't like he hadn’t dabbled in sexual situations with other guys, Scully knew that already, but it had never been anything serious. And it had been even rarer than his occasional affairs with women. Over the years he’d learned there was nothing he couldn’t get from his own right hand, or a brief, casual, no strings attached fling with someone who knew there was no future in the relationship. And Sandy.

He still hadn’t told Scully about Sandy. She had probably guessed though, there were times he could almost swear she was psychic, though she’d do more than just scoff if he suggested that. Probably tell him it was perfume (except that Sandy didn’t wear it), or his changed attitude, or those damn hickeys. Sandy’s bite marks were a little obvious, as were the scratches. Like making love to an animal, that woman went wild whenever Mulder went near her. Not that he was complaining. His wild woman... She was... raw.

That was Sandy: raw. Unpretentious and unpainted. Warm and wild and raw. And... cute and... fun, and adorable and adoring. He sighed. He’d have to introduce her to Scully soon, no doubt about that. Not that I am getting serious about this woman, he told himself. He still had far too many unanswered questions about her. And she didn’t seem too serious about him. She only appeared in the morning, was never available for evening dates, ran with him, screwed his brains out, then disappeared for the rest of the day. But when she was with him... the way she never took her eyes off him, the way she hung onto every word, the way she fucked...

"Hey, earth to Mulder... come in, Mulder."

"Oh, sorry, Scully. I was thinking."

"Hmm, about Krycek, huh," she teased.

"What? No, I mean... no." He picked up another file, and buried his nose in it. "Hey, Scully", he suddenly sat up straight, discomfort forgotten, "This file refers to an X File!"

She leaned over his shoulders, "Is it here?"

"No... this was the Kindred, I should still have this file at the office. Hmmm... There’s no direct reference here, just that he was recruited because... because he came into contact with the Kindred, and refers see file number X40263: O’Connor, Michael." Something nagged at the back of his mind... Michael. A young man in a hospital bed, vulnerable and scared: not worried he’d been close to death, but horrified he hadn’t been able to tell a man from a woman, at his inability to refuse to have sex with a woman, at watching a woman turn into a man before his eyes.

"What is it, Mulder?" she questioned, seeing the surprise in his eyes.

"Michael... the survivor of the attack by the renegade Kindred... that was Krycek."

"You didn’t recognise him?"

"Never even occurred to me. He must have given us a false name when we interviewed him. And... I remember now, his hair was a lot longer, and dyed black, and in a five minute interview, looking straight up his nose from the end of a hospital bed... He must have changed his appearance a little when he came to work on the X Files. It never occurred to me he was the same person..." Mulder was faintly distressed that his wonderfully reliable eidetic memory had let him down so obviously.

"Why would he have given us a false name then?"

"He didn’t want to discuss the case with us at all, he was pretty embarrassed," Mulder recalled, "Perhaps he was worried it would impact on his career in the FBI? He would have known me, or at least my work, by that stage," Mulder mused.

"They were taking a risk sending you someone we’d already met. If we’d have recognised him..."

"Probably wouldn’t have mattered if I had recognised him. In fact, knowing he had already had paranormal experience... no wonder he seemed so open to extreme possibilities. He wasn’t just acting, he had actually experienced them," Mulder made a mental note to recheck the Kindred file later.

"Well, it appears his experience with the Kindred was what brought him to their attention in the first place. That and his adaptability. Seems his lecturers noticed he was able to make himself teacher’s pet in every class. Being able to get people to like him – handy skill for undercover work. I wonder why having survived the Kindred would make him of interest, though... is there anything else in these files?"

While Scully searched for a lead in that area, Mulder pondered her words. He remembered the way Krycek stood close, leaned into Mulder’s personal space in a way that bespoke of both need and care. The way he tried to look after Mulder after Scully’s abduction. It had been comforting – until Mulder had realised Krycek may have had a part in that abduction. The way, even when standing above Mulder he still made it appear he was looking up, how he made himself appear smaller than he really was – making Mulder feel protective, big brotherish. Oh yeah, Krycek had known every button to push. Mulder bit the inside of his cheek, hating the manipulative little creep even more, recognising how close he had come to wheedling his way into Mulder’s trust, into his affections. The rational part of his brain told him to have some mercy on the dumb kid, but deeper, darker parts of his psyche refused to let go of the betrayal, preferring to wallow in the delicious pain a little longer.

Scully changed the video tapes, going to a later interview. The changes were there. Krycek was less suspicious of the others in the room with him, less eager, somehow... harder. He seemed almost blank. She highlighted on the paper file the drugs they were giving him, and mentally cross-matched them with the reactions he was displaying. It appeared they thought they were writing on an almost blank sheet, but she knew that no matter how skilled they were at brainwashing, it took years to get the depth of programming they espoused in these files. Despite the best attempts of the CIA, or the Viet Cong, this was still an inexact science.

Interview Seven: Krycek, A.

"We are pleased with your progress at this time, Alex. After some initial difficulties, it appears that Mulder has accepted your presence on his investigations. Do you believe he will accept you as his new partner?"

"He still contacts Scully, I believe he still considers her his partner, even though they have been separated.

"Yes, she is still a threat. She is a threat to us; to our country; to you; and most of all, she is a threat to Mulder. You understand that, don’t you, Alex?’

"Uh... Yes, Sir. But, she seems..."

"Not intentionally, Alex, she doesn’t mean to be. But she is. As long as she continues to support his efforts in these misguided investigations, his life remains in danger."

"Yes, Sir." Alex frowned a little, although he appeared unconvinced. "She means a lot to Mulder though, I think he would be hurt if we..."

"Hurt, yes. But not compromised. She is a physical threat to Mulder’s well-being at the moment, but he would recover from her loss. But don’t worry, Alex," the interviewer’s manner became conciliatory "we are not asking you to hurt her, simply keep an eye on things and let us know if she becomes too closely involved in Mulder’s affairs again. We’ll take care of everything else. You must protect Mulder."

"Yes, sir. Protect Mulder."

"Because you love him, don’t you, Alex? "

"Yes, sir. And I will protect him."

"I can’t believe he’d swallow crap like that," Mulder was aghast at such gullibility, while the tape played on in the background, the interviewer’s voice reiterating the need for Mulder to be ‘protected’, telling Krycek how much he loved Mulder, and Krycek patiently parroting the words.

"Well, they believed that they had enough of a hold over him with drugs and hypnosis that they could get him to believe anything, as long as he thought it was for your benefit." She tried to hide her discomfort; she didn’t like to be reminded of her own abduction experience - and this appeared to be just prior to their getting Krycek to give Duane Barry her address. She wondered how much of a danger Krycek could have been to her. "Listening to this, I guess I'm lucky to be alive, they were trying to get rid of me right from the start. Why take such circuitous routes though? There are far easier ways to kill people."

"If they had, they would have had to kill me, too," Mulder said quietly.

She looked down at him and smiled, squeezing his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity.

The interviewer’s voice droned on while they watched, weaving a web of artifice around Krycek, playing on the young man’s weakness for Mulder. Scully listened with quiet horror as the interviewer’s machinations painted her as a threat. How her initial brush off of Krycek (had he even told them that minor detail?) showed how she knew Krycek was winning with Mulder, how she was stopping Krycek from getting closer to Mulder, then, as the session progressed, ‘coming between them’.

The vague half truths, the cabal of almost lies continued, crooned in a soft monotone, and Krycek sat, his eyes not following the man who talked to him, simply nodding and agreeing.

"So," Mulder interrupted her thoughts, "We’re supposed to believe he’s not bad, he’s just terminally gullible?" He sounded less than convinced.

"It seems they truly believed he would do what they wanted," she waved one of the files vaguely.

"You vill do our bidding!" Mulder did a rather terrible Vincent Price impersonation, and Scully smiled indulgently.

They watched and read in silence for a little longer, then: "Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you really believe something like this would make someone kill?"

"We have no proof that Krycek really did kill anyone," she held up her hand to forestall his protest, "Despite your suspicions. And no, I’m not totally convinced this would turn an innocent person into a killer."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because there is a file here, and a tape, on Melissa."

She looked at him in horror, "Why? Why would they have a file on my sister?"

He shrugged, "Do you want me to put the tape in?" He offered her the paper file while he switched tapes in the VCR, not waiting for her reply.

This time the tape was played half way through, and started immediately on Melissa Scully. She looked lovely, as she always had, her hair a strategically uncontrolled pile, her clothes new age chic - so different from her ‘just so’ sister. Although the room was similar to the one Krycek was always shown in, this one had Melissa sitting at a cafe’ style table, sharing a cappuccino with a different interviewer - a woman this time, dressed similarly to Scully’s sister.

Interview Five: Scully, M.

"But she was dead, wasn’t she?" the unknown woman continued a half finished conversation.

"Yes, but she did come back to us, or to him... to Fox," Melissa smiled at her own whimsy.

"She was pulled back against her will, or part of her was. Her soul has already moved on. Your sister, as she is now, that’s not the Dana you knew. They pulled something back to live in her body, but that’s not your sister. She should be released, her soul should be allowed to pass on. That was her time, you felt it, didn’t you?"

Melissa nodded, "I... I guess so," uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Yes, of course you did, Dear, you’re sensitive to these things," the woman patted Melissa’s hand. "She needs to be released, to be set free of this torment. That means her earthly body..."

Scully hit the stop button.

"My own sister! Mulder, they got to Melissa!" her voice started to crack a little.

"Scully, you don’t know that for sure..."

"‘Someone you trust will try to arrange a meeting’" Scully quoted, getting up and walking away from him. "I suspected Skinner, but they were sending my own sister to kill me."

"Scully..."

"Which means Luis Cardinal and your ex-partner probably saved my life," she coughed as she tried to laugh, trying to use sarcasm to hide the rage. How dare they! Her beautiful, dippy, precious sister!

Mulder waited a moment, expecting her to deny it. He expected claims that the tapes were faked; the Consortium set them up; Krycek was in on it; the tapes had been meant to undermine their confidence and resolve. All the things he had suspected himself. Instead she drew her dignity around herself like a shroud.

"Mulder, do you need these tapes for whatever it is you’re planning?" her voice was soft and husky with suppressed grief.

He knew what it was she was asking, "No, Scully."

She gathered up the tape and accompanying file, slipping them into her bag. There was no reason, if Mulder didn’t need these, that anyone needed to see them. Her mother had suffered enough already. "I’m tired, Mulder, I’m going home."

"Will you be all right?"

"Sure," she smiled weakly, "enjoy your videos."

"I always do," he smiled at her, concerned, then pulled out another tape as she left. She would lick her wounds in private, not showing it, but feeling the pain deep in her bones. She was shocked, of course, that they had sent her sister to try and kill her, but she’d get over it, she was strong, the strongest person he knew. At least that’s what Mulder told himself as the lure of those tapes kept him from going after her.

There were enough faces on these tapes to bring him quite a few convictions, although he wasn’t sure exactly for what yet, it was too good an opportunity to let pass. If they were dumb enough to let themselves be filmed, they deserved whatever he could dig up on them.

His first concern was to track down the source of these little pearls of information. They were a little too convenient, and there had been simply too many things going right for him recently. He could smell a rat, and he was starting to get a good idea of who had been baiting the trap. He’d known Sandy was too good to be true. 

Mulder pushed himself away from the wall, following Sandy as she slipped out of his apartment block and away from the building. He’d watched her go in half an hour ago, carrying another batch of files and tapes.

Mulder knew she’d had something to do with all of this, she’d been just too convenient, too perfect. If only he wasn’t always so goddamn horny whenever he saw her, or if he didn’t lose all control when she touched him. If she didn’t set his blood on fire, so that he couldn’t think straight around her.

There was a strong urge to let her go and check out her latest offering instead. Last night he’d watched Krycek’s transformation right up to and beyond the point he’d been sent to kill Bill Mulder. Krycek had told the truth when he’d told Mulder he hadn’t killed Mulder’s father, but it was a borderline truth - he’d been involved, right up to his pointy little ears, and Mulder had seen the panicked young man return, almost babbling with fear, after the deed was done. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Krycek to believe Mulder senior’s death had been for Mulder junior’s benefit, but after a while he had believed. It looked to Mulder as if they were finding it easier and easier to get Krycek to believe the most outrageous of stories.

I want to believe.

And Mulder knew enough about the things his father had been involved in to know there was plenty of material to work with there.

Bill Mulder had not been one of the good guys, after all. He’d allowed Samantha’s abduction – had lied to his own son about it, letting his son shoulder the guilt – and had been a mover and shaker in the Consortium, was probably another of their assassins.

Mulder could get them, perhaps just that cancer-ridden bastard, or at least the lackeys that had been on these tapes, and those that had signed off against those reports and files. Conspiracy to commit murder: Mulder could almost taste it! If he could get Krycek on the stand, he’d get them. He’d get all those bastards at once. If Krycek would testify, if Krycek was still alive...

So he followed Sandy – who, despite being almost 5’10", looked tiny and innocent to his eyes as he tracked her through the streets – who knew where those tapes had come from, who may know a hell of a lot more. It was difficult to avoid being seen, as she had to be as paranoid as Mulder himself, continually checking over her shoulders, starting at every loud noise. But she’d done this trip safely many times, making her just a little more relaxed, and Mulder was good, very good indeed, especially when it was this important. Her movements were becoming more furtive and he slowed, then stopped as she slipped down the side of a building.

A ‘for sale’ sign hung on one hinge out the front, and the place had an air of desolation around it. Either she is living here, and she’s in even worse difficulty than I thought, or she’s meeting who I suspect she meeting, and I’ve hit pay dirt.

He huddled into the leeway of another building across the street, pulled a handful of seeds from his pocket, and prepared to settle in for the duration. He occupied his mind going over the details of his morning, remembering his wonderful start to the day: Sandy had been waiting for him downstairs, sitting on the steps outside his building. Her hair was growing a little, although she still slicked it back unflatteringly, but her elfin features were turned towards the sun as she had enjoyed a soft warm day, and he had felt the lust stirring. Instead of meeting her to go running, he’d called out the window to her, she’d turned, smiling in unashamed joy at his voice, and he’d gestured for her to come on up to his apartment. He didn't care what her involvement was at that time, as soon as he’d held her, smelt her, inhaled her into his senses, he’d been consumed by her touch. The feeling of her flesh on his was... electric, and nothing else mattered.

Mulder sighed and shifted, forcibly dragging his mind back to the present, trying to make himself more comfortable as his pants became too tight. Was she going to stay in there all day? This was a rotten way to spend a day off, and he seriously considered following her into the house, but the last thing he wanted to do was spook her, or anyone she could be visiting. He needed to get the trust of whoever was passing the files on to her, and crashing into their safe house was not going to guarantee that.

He sighed again, then experimented with just how much air he could push out of his lungs in a series of sighs, then regretted not bringing more coffee, then deliberately didn’t think about Sandy, or sex with Sandy, or how Sandy smelt, or how she tasted, for various unsuccessful 5 minute stretches. He watched the traffic, and tried to make rude words from license plates.

He thought about Scully, and wished he’d thought to phone her this morning to see how she was after last night. Scully had wanted to lick her wounds in private and he respected that, but he wondered if she should be left grieving alone much longer... He investigated the depths of his left ear with his little fingernail, then began isometric exercises on the muscles in his legs. He’d need to do a lot of swimming or running tonight to get the tension from standing still so long out of his system.

He was just about to start on his right ear when he saw someone slip out of the building into early evening shadows. Five hours. He’d been standing here five hours, but finally, movement. The target moved carefully, partially concealed and scanning the street. Mulder could see jeans, and wondered if it was Sandy again, but these were a man’s legs. Long and muscular. The left knee turned out slightly as he walked, giving the impression of an old injury or some weakness...

Mulder’s lips peeled back in some parody of a smile. Yesssss... The young man finally stepped out fully, the sunshine hitting his face. Alex Krycek. The similarity of features, the familiarity, Mulder wondered if he was Sandy’s brother. That would explain her involvement with Krycek, although it didn’t explain why she wanted Mulder. Using sex to ensure Mulder’s co-operation? No, it wasn’t there, her physical responses were genuine, he was sure of it. She wasn’t faking it. But he’d analyse that later.

Krycek was moving now, walking quickly away from Mulder. His hands buried in the pockets of his leather jacket, and his head low as he broke into a leisurely lope.

Mulder tried not to copy Krycek’s movements too closely, but found he had to add a few extra skips to his stride to keep up. It didn’t matter too much if he lost Krycek at this time. He knew where Krycek was staying, and he had Sandy. It would be better if he could convince Krycek to come in out of the cold by himself, or get Sandy to convince him. Would she? He mused. She would if she cared about her brother. She was going to enough trouble to try and clear his name, or at least justify his actions by providing Mulder with the tapes, so maybe she would care enough to help Mulder bring Krycek in as a witness.

Krycek didn’t look too bad, he was well fed at least; although his clothes were as lived in as his sister’s, and the way he moved spoke of a fear that had been lived with for a very long time. Krycek stopped at traffic lights, looking over his shoulder furtively. He looked very good, and Mulder felt an old familiar anger, and an old familiar lust, rise like indigestion as the sun caught Krycek’s face highlighting his almost angelic features.

I wanted to believe in you, Krycek, Mulder accused, I wanted to believe in your belief in me. I wanted to rely on your trust, and I wanted... I wanted you.

He followed Krycek further away from Mulder’s neighbourhood, into the entertainment district. It was good to be moving stiff muscles again after all that time standing and waiting, but he was glad he was fit as Krycek kept up a steady pace through the city streets. He almost wished Krycek would grab a bus, give Mulder a chance to catch a taxi and take a break. Ah well, at least this would make up for not taking his usual run this morning - not that he hadn’t had plenty of exercise with Sandy anyway!

Stop it, he chastised himself, concentrate!

Krycek slipped sideways suddenly, and Mulder jogged to the point at which he’d lost his quarry. The backdoors of a couple of night-clubs backed into the alley into which Krycek had slipped, he could have gone into any of them. Mulder considered waiting, but if Krycek had got himself a job in one of them, he could be a long time coming back out.

He could have started searching the clubs, but alone and unarmed he didn’t want to tackle the ex-agent, not when he had an alternative at this time. He couldn’t let himself be lulled into believing Krycek was not dangerous. Even if Krycek hadn’t had total free will in his illegal actions, he was still potentially a very dangerous man. Besides, Mulder didn't want to scare him off. If Krycek was willing to help get the files to Mulder, there was also a possibility he would be willing to work with Mulder. Certainly they both had enough reason to want to bring down the same people. Don’t spook him, Spooky, Mulder told himself, before turning to catch a cab back to his apartment. He had Sandy’s latest presents to investigate.

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