From: RhymePhile@hotmail.com   
      
   Title: "Constant" (1 of 1)   
   Author: RhymePhile   
   E-mail: RhymePhile@hotmail.com   
   Distribution: Anywhere and everywhere   
   Rating: R for language and violence   
   Category: V, A   
   Keyword: Mulder/Krycek friendship/UST   
   Spoilers: Post-ep: Set right after The End, before the Movie; other   
   spoilers: Patient X and The Red and the Black   
   Summary: Krycek shows up at Mulder's apartment with dinner, but Mulder   
   overreacts and they have a typically violent confrontation until Mulder   
   learns the real reason for Krycek's visit.   
   Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek belong to Fox and 1013 Productions.   
   No infringement intended.   
   Author's Note: Dedicated to all the authors out there -- especially everyone   
   on RATales and M_K: Velocity -- who continue to dwell in the fictional world   
   by refusing to let one of the best characters on television lapse into   
   memory.   
      
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
   "Constant" (1 of 1)   
   by RhymePhile   
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   He was getting that tingly feeling, again.   
      
   Not the one that meant he had stepped on a thumbtack while blindly stumbling   
   into his desk in the dark, nor the pins-and-needles effect of sleeping on   
   his couch with an arm splayed at the wrong angle.   
      
   It wasn't even the one he especially enjoyed that meant in a few seconds   
   whatever scene he was watching would meet his needs, and he could stop the   
   DVD and go to bed.   
      
   No, this one was different.   
      
   Hmm.   
      
   He tossed his keys onto the table in his foyer, noticing for the first time   
   that his sneakers were covered in the soot from his office. Mulder had fled   
   from the charred, blackened remnants to retreat to the relative quiet of his   
   apartment. He knew Scully was worried about him, but he had to do anything   
   to get away from that place. In a daze, he hadn't remembered driving home   
   after witnessing the still-smoldering destruction of his life's obsession.   
   Obsession. Mulder had to laugh at that. It wasn't even a few months ago that   
   he had completely doubted his entire mission. Aliens? No, it was a   
   government conspiracy, of course. But then there was Scully, and the bridge,   
   and so much evidence to the contrary, and...the kiss. Could one strangely   
   emotional moment from the man he considered nothing more than a liar and a   
   murderer open his eyes somehow? Months of doubt erased with one touch of the   
   lips by that bastard Krycek? C'mon, Mulder, he thought to himself, your   
   renewed vision couldn't have been the result of a kiss from an oddly   
   affectionate, possibly homosexual, leather-clad, double agent.   
      
   Huh. He never thought that Alex might be gay. If he was, the kiss made   
   sense, sort of. Sort of disturbing, but sort of flattering, too. Or perhaps   
   it was Alex screwing with his head, knowing Mulder would be dwelling on the   
   reasons behind the kiss, trying to work up a psychological profile. Maybe it   
   was Alex's way of slowly driving Mulder crazy, making him wonder over and   
   over about the unexpected tenderness. Alex could have easily shot him,   
   bashed him over the head with the gun, or paid Mulder back for all the   
   beatings, but instead he chose to make his point that way. Mulder realized   
   then that if he hadn't turned his head at the last moment, Alex would have   
   planted those round lips right on his mouth. What would have happened then?   
   Why was this still eating at him? And why was he referring to Krycek as   
   Alex?   
      
   Shaking his head at the thought, he made his way into the living room.   
      
   With Mulder's track record (and his abnormally high rent due to various   
   violent occurrences in his apartment over the years) he had slowly honed his   
   reflexes to sense more about his surroundings.   
      
   Sometimes he wished his reflexes were as good as his jump shot, but they had   
   to count for something because he hadn't been killed yet. He chuckled,   
   imagining what other FBI agent could consider it a good day when he didn't   
   wind up dead.   
      
   But there was something not quite right. Something was...off.   
      
   Mulder stood there a moment, assessing the room. Did he feed the fish? Yeah,   
   he did that this morning. Maybe he left the computer on? No, he pressed the   
   space bar and the screen stayed blank. Damn his eidetic memory, anyway.   
   About the only use for it now would be to vividly recall the sights and   
   smells of his former office. He sighed, willing the vision away.   
      
   But there it was again -- the niggling feeling consumed him, tingled on the   
   edge of his conscious mind and made the hairs on his arm stand up.   
      
   Drawing his gun now, he walked around the living room, checked under the   
   couch, poked his head into the bedroom, searched the closets, under the bed,   
   the spot behind his overflowing clothes hamper, and then walked back into   
   the foyer when he saw it.   
      
   Him.   
      
   "Mulder," said Alex Krycek nonchalantly, mock-saluting with his prosthetic   
   arm.   
      
   Mulder twitched for a moment, his finger jumping to the trigger of his Sig   
   Sauer. He drew a bead in between those dark, green eyes as he walked closer   
   to the kitchen, where Krycek sat with bags spread around him on the table.   
   It smelled suspiciously like Chinese.   
      
   "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't be mopping up pieces of you right   
   now, Krycek." Mulder spat the man's name like a bad taste from his tongue.   
      
   Krycek merely smiled at the handgun aimed at his head. "General Tso?"   
      
   "Who?"   
      
   "That's a good enough reason, I'd think," Krycek replied. "General Tso's   
   chicken, your favorite, if I remember correctly. Sweet and sour chicken for   
   me, but we can switch if you'd like."   
      
   Mulder edged closer, his weapon still focused on the man's skull. "What the   
   fuck do you want?"   
      
   "I brought dinner," Krycek answered, shrugging.   
      
   "The last time you were here you held a gun to my head, and now you think   
   I'm going to relax like we're old friends? Go to hell."   
      
   "It just sounded like you had a hard day," Krycek said wryly.   
      
   It took Mulder a moment to realize Krycek was talking about the fire. "What   
   do you know about it?" he asked, his jaw clenching.   
      
   He could feel it happening, that humming in his head that began in Krycek's   
   presence. He felt the muscles of his left hand tightening into a fist. His   
   body felt hot, taut with tension.   
      
   "Nothing, Mulder, I just heard about it. News travels fast in our circles."   
      
   "You're a liar, Krycek."   
      
   "I had nothing to do with the damn fire, Mulder." Krycek reached into one of   
   the plastic bags and grinned back at Mulder. "General Tso and his chicken,   
   rice, eggrolls, and how about this..."   
      
   Krycek winked, giving Mulder an impish look and held up a bottle. "There's   
   an iced tea in this bag. It could be love."   
      
   Mulder flashed to the teasing, private moment he and Scully had shared so   
   long ago, and felt himself start to lose control. He charged forward at   
   that, kicking the leg of the chair Krycek was sitting in, knocking it from   
   under him and across the kitchen. The other man couldn't compensate for the   
   sudden movement with only one arm, and crashed to the floor, his head   
   slamming against the refrigerator door.   
      
   Mulder straddled him, pushing the tip of his weapon's muzzle into Krycek's   
   throat.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)