The Deal. 

An XFiles adventure by Brenda Antrim, starring all our favorites, 
including (and featuring) Ratboy. I don't own any of them, of course, but if I'm 
sued all they'll get is debts. Story is rated NC17 ( violence and nasty 
language) and includes graphic depictions of sex so if you're a minor don't read 
it or I'll have to destroy your computer. As to the motivation behind the middle 
part of this story .... Krycek and Mulder are my two favorite boys and I just 
had to have SOME fun. So, onward and all that rot. 
 
********************************** 
He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe, for once, something was going to turn out 
right. Ever since the double crossing son of a bitch had tried to blow him to 
kingdom come he'd been running, reacting, twitching at every sound. But now he 
had a plan. And the bait to set it all in motion had just walked in to his 
sights. 
Mulder looked preoccupied, worried, stressed. Typical, in fact. Maybe a little 
paler, a bit more tired, than usual, but still there ... still perfect for his 
needs. He tracked his prey across the street, through the park and over to the 
apartment building. Waiting until enough time had elapsed to be sure that Mulder 
was safely in, he passed as silently as a shadow through the side alley and into 
the back entry, making certain to remain unseen. As he ran lightly up the 
stairwell, he mentally calculated the odds. It was almost eleven, there were few 
people out on the streets this late. He should be able to pull it off and get 
out unseen. On the other hand, if there was a witness, his nine millimeter had a 
silencer. And the trank darts were strong enough to stop a mountain lion. One 
FBI agent, no matter how paranoid, shouldn't be a challenge. 
He rested outside the anonymous door, regulating his breathing in a manner that 
was second nature by now, listening intently to the muffled television noises, 
the rumble of the answering machine, the muted gurgle of the fish tank. One 
shuffling thunk, then another, as the shoes were kicked off. A short click and 
tiny rush of air as the tab was pulled on a drink, then the silence of a tired 
man after a long day at a difficult job. He counted down, twenty, nineteen, 
taking his time, doing it right. No more messups. He couldn't afford them. No 
partners now to shoot the wrong person, whether his or Mulder's. No witnesses. 
It was too damned important. Wouldn't do to break the door in ... not enough 
time, and too many ears along the corridor. At the end of his countdown, he 
scratched, lightly as a cat, then scratched again. The timbre of the silence 
changed, from relaxed to alert, and the footfalls toward the door were soft and 
wary. He was unaware of the smile playing about his lips as he ducked slightly, 
pushing the blank envelope he had brought along against the bottom edge of the 
door. A pause, then the slightest hint of rustling cloth, as his target bent to 
peer under the door, seeing the deliberately blocked light, misunderstanding the 
reason, thinking it was a clue in his never-ending quest, when in actuality it 
was-- 
The door opened a crack. A strong hand shoved quickly, forcefully, startling 
Mulder. Before he could raise his gun, the other man's gun spat once. He 
clutched at the dart buried in his stomach, fought the conflicting urges to 
faint and to attack, and swayed as the room began to tilt. His dark haired 
assailant pushed him none too gently back into the living room and shut the 
door. 
It was bait in the trap. To trap the bait. Alex Krycek smiled gently and leaned 
forward to catch Mulder as the world went black. 
****************************************************** 
His eyes were swimming. And his stomach hurt. And he couldn't move his arms. 
Hell of a way to wake up ... he must've fallen asleep at a really weird angle on 
the couch to have such a neck ache... Gradually, the realization filtered 
through Fox Mulder's mind that something was -- not quite right. The first thing 
that registered was the fact that he was naked. And he didn't usually sleep 
naked. One never knew when the MIBs would break into the apartment and take one 
for a 'little ride', and being nude when that happened was just too humiliating 
to even consider. Then there was the distinct sensation of carpet fibers 
pressing against his side and legs. Last time he'd checked, his couch had not 
been upholstered with shag carpet. Finally, there was the undeniable fact that 
his arms weren't asleep. They were bound. By metal. He was handcuffed to 
something, but his eyes weren't cooperating and he couldn't quite focus on his 
surroundings. And he was very much afraid that any minute now he was going to 
throw up. Not a good way to wake up. 
Sunlight filtered through a tiny window set high into the wall, casting swaying 
shadows on the sparsely furnished room. A small table, a single chair, and two 
wrought iron bars set into the wall... he forced himself to assess his 
surroundings, trying to remain professional, and trying to think of anything 
other than the nearly overpowering urge to vomit. Whatever the hell had been in 
that dart had been strong enough to set his system spinning. He pulled himself 
painfully to a seated position and continued to scan the room. The ridges on the 
wall behind him, and the approximate six foot separation of the iron bars made 
him think that at one time they had been the endpieces of a bookcase built into 
the wall. Now, they made a very effective prison. He eyed the chain binding his 
wrists to one bar and his left ankle to the other, mentally trying to find a way 
out. Nothing was immediately apparent. 
A rat in a trap. Alex grinned nastily to himself at the description, then let 
himself into the room, making no effort at stealth. Mulder's head swung away 
from his rapt contemplation of his ankle chain, a little too quickly to judge by 
the suddenly green hue of his face. As he fought valiantly to control his 
stomach, Krycek settled into the lone chair and regarded him with mock sympathy. 

"Poor Fox. Got his leg in a trap and his tummy doesn't feel too good, either, 
now does it?" Mulder suppressed a growl, keeping his teeth clenched against the 
nausea, and he laughed softly. "It'll pass pretty soon, Mulder. There wasn't 
anything toxic in it," he reassured him with touching, if utterly false, 
concern, "and the effects are relatively fast to dissipate." 
Mulder tried to ignore the fact that one, he hated this man more than any other 
single individual on the face of the earth with the possible exception of 
Cancerman, and two, he was unable to rip his throat out like he really wanted to 
because he was chained naked to a wall. He forced himself to face his nemesis, 
chanting "His day will come" silently to himself like a mantra against his own 
helplessness. Eventually, he calmed down enough to be able to watch his former 
partner with something close to his usual equanimity. 
Alex stared back at him measuringly. When he was certain that Mulder had calmed 
enough to listen to him, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees 
and pinning Mulder with an intensely serious gaze. 
"I have a proposition." 
"Fuck you!" So much for equanimity. 
"Maybe later, if you're lucky." He enjoyed the dumbstruck look on Mulder's face 
for a split second before continuing with his proposal. "I have something you 
want. You have something I want. Or, actually, you and your friends have 
something I want. Are you willing to listen?" 
Mulder stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Whatever you have, 
Krycek, I'm not buying. You can go straight to hell." 
"Probably," Alex returned with a wry half smile. "But I don't want to go alone. 
And with your help, I won't." 
This time he couldn't restrain the growl. "I don't trust you and I sure as hell 
am not going to help you!" 
Krycek gave him that same measuring look, then smiled. It was not a reassuring 
sight. 
"Yes. You will." He arose from the chair and walked to the door. Pausing to 
shoot Mulder a last glance, he smiled again. "You will." 
Mulder narrowed his eyes at the closed door, then swept a searching glance over 
the walls. He didn't see any obvious monitoring devices, and he didn't want to 
waste any time. He had to get the hell out of there, before Alex came back and 
dragged him further into his little game. 
************************************************ 
Krycek had to admit, he hadn't expected Mulder to recover quite so fast. 
Watching the determined agent through the concealed camera in the table front, 
he winced as he saw him open yet another slice on his wrist with the edge of his 
cuff. Mulder had managed to wedge the side of his cuff under the edge of one of 
the iron posts, digging into the plaster of the wall in an attempt to loosen the 
bar and slip his chain free. Unfortunately, this put the hard edge of the cuff 
cutting directly into the soft skin on his wrists and the blood was starting to 
flow freely. Alex sighed, and gathered up a stocked medical kit. If he was going 
to persuade Skinner and Scully to help him, he had to make sure the bait was in 
good shape. They probably wouldn't be too cooperative if Mulder effectively slit 
his own wrists and bled to death before they could even figure out where he was 
being held captive. 
Mulder froze as the door drew open again, and Krycek stalked into the room. 
Dropping a bulky box on the floor a few feet away, Krycek came to within 
striking distance of Mulder and glared at him. 
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" 
"What does it look like I'm doing, you damned moron?" Mulder was feeling a 
little light headed with the remnants of the drug in his system, compounded by 
the blood loss, and his grip on his temper was nonexistent. 
"And if you did manage to pry yourself loose?" Alex inquired, dropping into a 
comfortable seat on the carpet and regarding Mulder quizzically. "In case you 
haven't noticed, you're half stoned, your leg is still chained to the wall, and 
you're stark naked." 
Mulder glared woozily at him, then shook his head to clear the last bits of 
fuzziness from his brain. "I'd rather take my chances naked in a fucking 
snowstorm than in here with you, Krycek." 
"I was afraid you'd say that," he sighed. "You know, if you'd just listen to 
what I have to say--" 
Before he had the chance to finish the remark, Mulder pushed out with all his 
strength, succeeding in pulling the bar away from the weakened plaster. Before 
Krycek could react, he swung his fists together in a modified hammering blow, 
catching the other man across the face and opening up a gash in his cheek with 
the swinging chain. Alex reacted immediately, with an uppercut that slammed 
Mulder back against the wall, stunning him. With no wasted motion, Alex pulled 
Mulder's arms high above his head, all the weight of his body now on his 
shoulders, and clipped the chain to one of the curled hooks in the design of the 
wrought iron. Backing away and lifting a hand to his burning cheek, he regarded 
the writhing figure in front of him with mingled respect and hatred. 
The things he had to do to stay alive. 
*************************************************** 
Every time he tried to pull himself up, to take some of the strain from his 
burning shoulders, the cuffs would bite deeper into the cuts on his wrists, He 
tried to use his hands on the chains, but his fingers slipped on the links, 
slick with his blood. When he thought that his hands were completely numb and he 
really would have to start screaming very soon, the damnable door opened again. 
Krycek had taken the time to clean his own cut cheek, small butterfly bandages 
holding it closed. He watched Mulder's face as he approached, readily admitting 
to himself that the undoubted agony on the face of the troublesome bastard made 
him feel much better. Stopping to pick up the medkit on his way, he yanked 
roughly at the chain, dislodging it from the hook. Mulder was unable to muffle 
his cry of pain as his deadened arms clattered against his midsection, 
instinctively curling up to protect his groin from the swinging chain. Krycek 
knelt beside him, waiting for him to catch his breath. 
"You really are a pain in the ass, you know." His matter-of-fact tone cut 
through the haze of pain in Mulder's head, and the agent opened his eyes to see 
Krycek calmly preparing a syringe full of clear liquid. As he shot a drop from 
the end of the needle, clearing any air bubbles, he regarded Mulder 
thoughtfully. "Guess you'll just have to hear my proposition when the others do. 
Until then, this should make you a little more ... manageable." 
Before he could formulate the question, Mulder felt the tiny sting of the needle 
biting into his bicep, then things went a little strange. Alex watched the 
normally intense hazel eyes lose focus, the harsh, angry features soften, and 
reached for the kit. Applying salve to the cuts on Mulder's wrists, he watched 
his captive thoughtfully. While this particular combination of drugs wouldn't 
put him out, it would render him pliable and open to suggestion. As he gently 
worked the medicated cream into the soft skin, cleaning up the lacerations, he 
let his mind wander. Now might be the best time to plant some ideas. The others 
should be getting his messages soon, and when they did, he had to be ready. 
****************************************************** 
Krycek's fingers gradually slowed as the warmth of his skin was transferred via 
the medicated cream into Mulder's cold wrists. The pins and needles must have 
hurt, but thanks to the concoction he'd injected into his captive, Mulder didn't 
appear to be in any pain. As the feeling returned in his hands, Mulder made an 
abortive attempt to pull them from Alex's grasp, but his muscles refused to 
cooperate. There was a delicious lassitude creeping through him, muting the 
frantic voice in his mind that was screaming for him to escape, to run, to 
resist. Other sensations were also permeating his body, and he was unable to 
mask them in his current state of undress. The warning voice fell mute, 
horrified by his body's response, and dreading the moment when Krycek would 
realize what the slow movements of hands on bare skin were doing to his nervous 
system. 
Alex rotated his fingers gently on the bruised and raw flesh of Mulder's wrists 
and arms, trying to frame his proposition in the most persuasive manner he could 
while still making it simple enough for Mulder to grasp the essentials, as 
drugged up as he was. His distracted gaze drifted down to his hands, satisfied 
with the effects of his ministrations, and he carefully unlocked the chains from 
Mulder's arms. There was no way the agent would be able to escape. While he was 
conscious, he was far from capable. As the chains fell away, he gathered them 
into a small pile to the side of Mulder's hips, bending over the other man's 
torso to push them against the wall. As he straightened, he noticed what the 
chain had been camouflaging. One of the drugs in his own particular devil's brew 
was a stimulant, to keep vital signs strong, and sometimes it acted as an 
aphrodisiac. From the look of Mulder's erection, this was one of those times. 
"I had no idea you were so sensitive to drugs, *Fox*." Alex almost laughed, 
especially when he saw the mixture of embarrassment, rage and arousal in 
Mulder's glare. "Looks like later may be now, hm?" 
With a wicked smile, keeping his eyes locked to Mulder's all the while, he 
slowly reached out and began to trace his fingertips along the semi- rigid 
flesh. Mulder reacted with an involuntary moan, his eyes shutting from either 
humiliation or denial, Alex wasn't sure which. Maybe both. As his own breath 
began to quicken, he shelved plans for trying to persuade the recalcitrant agent 
to join him in his proposition. There would be time for that, later. Right now, 
under his hands, was the only chance he'd ever get at fucking Fox Mulder. And he 
planned to make the most of it. 
Mulder's hips were pushing lazily up toward Krycek's stroking hand, the 
lethargic movements gradually gaining strength as Krycek began stroking his 
chest with his free hand. His mouth fell slightly open, breathing coming in 
irregular gasps, as he tried to fight his arousal. Krycek leaned closer, caught 
up in the unwillingly wanton responses of the man under his curious hands. By 
now, Mulder's erection was straining against his palm, as Alex feathered 
delicate caresses over the slick skin of his chest. Stopping to scratch lightly 
over a nipple, he was delighted by the moan the caress evoked, and repeated it 
several times, alternating from one tight bud to the other. As he was continuing 
this delicious torture, his other hand roamed freely, circling the sensitive 
head of Mulder's penis, thumbing the crease along the top then tracing the veins 
along the shaft until he could roll his balls in the soft sac, eliciting one 
moan after another until Mulder was almost whimpering continuously. 
The beleaguered agent finally managed to get his arms to cooperate, after a 
fashion, drawing them up and placing them against Krycek's chest, fully 
intending to push him away. The heat of his skin through the thin cotton shirt 
seemed to give his hands other ideas, however, and Krycek felt another pulse of 
arousal when Mulder's hands slid slowly up his chest to rest heavily at the 
sides of his neck. Taking it as encouragement, whether it had been or not, he 
quickly shrugged out of his shirt, careful not to dislodge Mulder's unsteady 
grip. As he backed away to unfasten his jeans, Mulder's hands slipped, the 
friction as his fingertips grazed lightly through his chest hair sending shivers 
up his spine. Sacrificing gentle exploration for the sake of speed and his own 
straining erection, he stripped off the rest of his clothing in near record time 
and moved back over Mulder's supine form. 
As Alex began firmly caressing every inch of silky skin that he could reach, 
some part of Mulder's mind was watching in an odd mix of revulsion and 
unadulterated lust. He wanted to pull away, or at least protest, but his mind 
was awash with the drugs and the unusual sensations running over his body. With 
a mental shrug, he gave up the fight, his natural curiosity getting the better 
of him. The small part of his mind that was still relatively coherent sat in the 
corner and screamed with rage, while the rest of his being concentrated on the 
incredible sensation of Alex Krycek going down on him. 
Krycek followed the path his hands had taken with his lips, teeth, tongue. 
Mulder tasted sweet and salty, tiny drops of pre-cum wetting his penis and 
sparkling in the soft dark curls scattered across his groin. Mixing with 
Krycek's saliva, it caused an almost unbearably erotic sensation as Alex slid 
his mouth over and around Mulder, stopping to nibble the tender flesh at the 
crown, nipping and soothing to the root, rolling first one testicle then the 
other into his hungry mouth, massaging the tender skin with the side of his 
tongue, engulfing as much of his cock as he could take and then humming deep in 
his throat. The pressure built until Mulder's head was swimming, and with an 
inarticulate cry his hips bucked, once, twice, three times. Alex drew back with 
one final pull, containing Mulder's climax the best he could, gathering the 
semen into his hands. 
Before Mulder could catch his breath, the effects of his climax multiplied in 
his mind by the lingering effects of the drug, Alex abruptly rolled him over 
onto his stomach. He spread Mulder's cum thickly along the damp crease of the 
agent's ass, probing with first one, then two slender fingers at the small ring 
of muscle. Mulder tried to tense, the outraged corner of his mind protesting a 
little more loudly, when Krycek angled his fingertips to scrape lightly across 
Mulder's prostate. His scream caught them both by surprise, and after one 
instinctive clench, he released his hold on Alex's fingers. As he was trying to 
catch his breath from that unexpected jolt, he felt the blunt tip of Krycek's 
penis begin to work it's way deeply into his ass. 
Krycek caught his breath as he carefully pushed his way in, pausing to allow 
Mulder a chance to adjust and to catch his own breath. The sensation was 
incredible, so hot, and so tight, like a velvet fist squeezing his cock. When he 
finally worked his entire length in, he paused, resting his sweaty chest against 
Mulder's broad back. Mulder whimpered slightly, but made no other move, and 
Krycek slid one hand slowly around Mulder's hip, searching for his penis. Mulder 
was already erect again, and Alex commenced a gentle rocking rhythm, stroking 
Mulder's length in concert with his own thrusts. The combined sensations 
overpowered Mulder, and with another scream that sounded suspiciously like a 
sob, he came again. The rippling effect of his climax worked his internal 
muscles and he milked Krycek until, with a scream of his own, the other man came 
explosively, clutching Mulder's twitching penis and biting and sucking at the 
side of his neck. Mulder's hands worked convulsively on the carpet, whether 
trying to grab hold or push away, he couldn't have said. With one final 
convulsion, Krycek wrung one last jolt of semen from him, and he felt 
consciousness slip away. Alex felt the tense body underneath his own relax, and 
slowly withdrew, gasping from the release of pressure. He rolled Mulder over and 
checked his pulse, then leaned close to him. Ascertaining that he was indeed 
unconscious, he opened his mouth over Mulder's in a deep, wet kiss, plundering 
that full lower lip and taking the liberties he couldn't when the other man was 
awake and aware. Finally satiated, he drew clean towels from the kit at their 
feet and cleaned up the evidence of their activities. There was nothing he could 
do about the bite marks, true, but perhaps by the time Skinner and Scully 
arrived, they would have faded. 
Of course, if they hadn't, that was just too damned bad. 
**************************************************** 
She didn't like this. Didn't like it at all. The surprisingly light step of 
Director Skinner behind her should have reassured her, but it didn't. The fact 
that Alex Krycek had called him directly should have made her a little more 
confident. It didn't. All she could see was Melissa's still face, her mother's 
devastated eyes. Mulder, numb, and his mother, shattered. The desperate plea in 
her partner's face as he begged her to let him kill the rat bastard. Why hadn't 
she? Yeah. To keep Mulder from a murder charge. But maybe they could have beaten 
it. And maybe, just maybe, Missy would still be alive. 
On the other hand, maybe not. That black lunged son of a bitch probably had a 
whole damned army of killers. Krycek was just her own personal nightmare. And 
Mulder's. Mustn't forget that ... and had to pray that he was still alive. 
The light came on suddenly, blinding them both, They froze in identical 
crouches, and Alex Krycek's voice came at them from the whiteness, seeming by 
auditory illusion to be coming from every direction at once. 
"Drop your weapons." 
She risked a glance back at Skinner, hating the feeling of being pinned. He 
nodded almost imperceptibly, and she gingerly lowered her gun to the floor. If 
nothing else, she did still have the leg holster under her trousers. Like 
Mulder, she also got tired of losing her gun. 
"I don't want to hurt you," the disembodied voice continued, "and I don't want 
you to hurt me." 
"What do you want, Krycek?" Walter Skinner's voice sounded unusually loud, and 
incredibly cold. While he wouldn't admit it, except perhaps under torture, he 
had an almost paternal interest in Agents Mulder and Scully, and these mind 
games put them in jeopardy. They also pissed him off no end. He gradually 
straightened, and Scully followed his cue, squinting against the light. 
"I want ... a truce." 
Scully and Skinner exchanged incredulous glances. 
"And we're supposed to trust you?" Dana was trying very hard to maintain her 
composure. "You kidnapped my partner. You beat up my boss." She didn't notice 
Skinner's involuntary wince. "You killed Mulder's father, you helped someone 
abduct me for God only knows what kind of heinous experiments, and you killed my 
sister!!" Her voice rose slightly with each word. Skinner reached out a 
restraining hand, and she took a deep gulp of air, trying to stop her body from 
shaking. Swallowing dryly, she tried again. "Why in Heaven's name should we 
trust you?" 
There was a short silence, then a soft reply. "You have no choice." 
Skinner felt his gorge rise, but managed to keep his anger from showing in his 
expression. Scully wasn't quite as adept. Her skin flushed until her features 
nearly matched her hair, and the two men could almost see sparks flying from her 
hair. Krycek finally stepped from the side of the building into the light. She 
narrowed her eyes at him, and he inclined his head. 
"You don't have to trust me. I have something you want, and you have something I 
want. Straight trade. I want to cut a deal." He didn't smile, but his expression 
lightened. "And, for once, we both want the same thing." 
"What's that, Krycek?" Scully was glad Skinner had asked the question. She 
didn't trust her own voice. 
"Well, as to what we have ... I have Mulder. He's the bargaining chip, the bait 
to get you to come out here and listen to me." He put out a hand in a stopping 
motion at Scully's involuntary movement toward him. "He's all right." He paused, 
and she tried to decipher his expression, but couldn't. What the hell had he 
done with Mulder, she thought somewhat frantically. She couldn't lose him, too. 
He continued smoothly, "All I need is breathing space." 
"For what?" That was her boss. Direct and to the point. Alex seemed to 
appreciate it as well. 
"I'm working on payback here, trying to save my own ass. Cancerman screwed me, 
made the mistake of double-crossing me. He's on my ass now, and I need to know 
that when I take out the bastards that come after me, I'm only taking out his 
men. They'll be enough to handle. I don't want to have to deal with another 
fucking vendetta with your people." 
In other words, Scully mused dully, no vengeance for Missy. For Bill Mulder. For 
me. For an instant, she allowed all of the hatred she felt for this man to shine 
from her eyes, and he took a small step backward, as if her enmity had actually 
slapped him. She smiled coldly at the cut on his face, evidence that Mulder had 
not gone quietly, then turned to face Director Skinner. He looked back at her 
calmly. This was her call. Her partner, her family, her life ... her choice. She 
nodded, once, sharply, before she could dwell on all the ramifications of her 
agreement. 
"But not forever, you bastard," she hissed across the room at the still dark 
figure of Krycek. "When you've dealt with him, then you will deal with me." 
He nodded his agreement, understanding everything she didn't say, then tossed 
something shiny at her feet. She knelt slowly and picked it up, her eyes never 
leaving him. He stepped back in to the shadows and the lights abruptly went out, 
leaving an afterimage of whiteness that resolved itself slowly into the shadows 
of the dimly lit warehouse. She scooped up her weapon and took the object over 
to a nearby window, turning it over in her hand, trying to read the writing on 
the small tag attached to a new, clean cut key. Finally deciphering the writing, 
she glanced over to Skinner. 
"It's a storage unit in the Parkway. I know where it's at." 
He nodded and followed her to her car. 
As they sped toward the unit, she prayed that Krycek would actually keep his 
word, and not harm her partner. Skinner didn't say a word, letting her 
concentrate on her driving, forming and rejecting possibilities if this rescue 
started to blow up in their faces. As they drew near the storage units, she cut 
the lights and they silently exited the car. 
He came around the corner high, and she came in low, but there was no one to 
ambush them there. With one quick look, Skinner nodded her on, and covered her 
back as she deftly flicked the lock. He pulled back on the heavy door and she 
bolted around the corner, keeping herself low to the ground to offer the 
smallest possible target. For no reason, because the small room contained no 
threat, just Mulder. Unconscious, Hands tied behind him. Dressed in soaked 
sweatpants and a ragged tee shirt. Skinner kept lookout while Scully quickly 
checked his vital signs and heaved a sigh of relief. 
"Whatever Krycek gave him, it doesn't appear to be affecting his vitals. We'll 
have to get him to a hospital and get him checked out, though." Skinner nodded 
agreement and helped her wrestle her ungainly burden out to the car. 
It was almost twelve hours before Mulder regained consciousness. The combination 
of drugs Krycek had used on him did no permanent damage, but did leave his 
memory hazy. 
"Do you remember anything about where he held you, Agent Mulder?" There was no 
impatience in Director Skinner's tone, but since it was the fifth time he'd 
asked the question, there was some irritation in Mulder's reply. 
"No, sir. I don't. He hit me with some sort of tranquilizer dart, then when I 
came to, he shot me up with a nice little mixture of his own. After that," his 
voice faded uncertainly, and Dana was convinced there was something he was not 
telling them. "... it all gets really fuzzy." 
Skinner nodded acceptance, then sighed. "Well, he did keep his part of the 
bargain. I suppose." 
"And we'll keep ours," Scully's voice was hard. "Until Cancerman is ... taken 
care of." 
Skinner looked at her for a long moment, then turned to Mulder. "Get some rest, 
Agent Mulder." Turning on his heel, he started for the door. 
"Sir?" Mulder's raspy question stopped him. "Thank you." 
Skinner tightened his lips, then nodded once, and left the room. Dana watched 
him leave, then turned to her partner. 
"What didn't you tell him, Mulder?" 
He studied his hands for an endless moment, absently tracing the healing 
lacerations from the cuffs he'd been chained in. Finally he met her concerned 
gaze. 
"Just ... a nightmare, Scully. Nothing unusual." 
She accepted his quiet answer, determined not to pry if he wasn't ready. She 
reached across the hospital bed and laid a hand lightly on his bruised wrist. He 
rested his eyes on the small hand covering the marks of his abduction, and gave 
her a half smile. One day, though, she would know. One more mark against Alex 
Krycek, one more debt for him to pay. Once this truce was over, then all the 
markers would come due. And when their deal with the devil was over, she would 
make sure he paid. 
**** the end ***********(at least until Dana catches Alex in a dark alley with 
no witnesses...) ****************