From: RhymePhile@hotmail.com   
      
   Title: "Culmination" (1 of 1)   
   Author: RhymePhile   
   E-mail: RhymePhile@hotmail.com   
   Distribution: Feel free to spread it around   
   Rating: R for language and disturbing images   
   Category: S, A   
   Keyword: Mulder/Krycek UST   
   Spoilers: Post-ep: The End. Other spoilers: Tunguska, Terma, The Red and the   
   Black   
   Summary: In the third story after "Constant" and "Ceaseless," Mulder comes   
   to a revelation about his relationship with Krycek.   
   Disclaimer: Siiiigh. Fox and Alex. Not mine. Owned by 1013 and Fox. We treat   
   them a whole lot better, though.   
   Author's Note: Thanks to everyone on MKV who has been supportive of my past   
   two writing efforts by warmly offering feedback and comments, especially   
   Jynn (for giving me the idea for the opening), Griva, and Lorelei.   
      
      
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
   "Culmination" (1 of 1)   
   by RhymePhile   
   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   
      
   Even while he was sleeping he reminded Mulder of a sleek, tightly wound   
   panther ready to pounce.   
      
   Krycek lay facing the bedroom door, one arm curled beneath the pillow, with   
   the comforter hiding what remained of the other. It surprised Mulder that   
   Alex didn't immediately wake after he had opened the bedroom door this   
   morning.   
      
   After a few hours spent uncomfortably sprawled on Krycek's functional yet   
   draconian kitchen chair, Mulder had settled into the leather loveseat. Other   
   than a short trip to Krycek's surprisingly clean bathroom, Mulder remained   
   there on the couch, steadfastly monitoring every squeaking floorboard   
   outside the apartment.   
      
   He had stayed awake all night, senses alert and his body on edge in case   
   they had a visitor. Mulder paused at the thought and smiled to himself.   
   They. What bizarre happenstance caused this combination of paranoiac FBI   
   agent and his...what was Alex to him now?   
      
   Enemy wasn't right. It never had been. An enemy did all he could to destroy   
   you, to bring you crashing down into ruin. Krycek may have had motivations   
   that were suspect, but he never intended to harm Mulder in that way. Rival   
   would be an accurate term, but it was unclear exactly how much Krycek had   
   actively plotted against him. It was doubtful that Alex purposely derailed   
   Mulder, knowing what Mulder did about the other man's surreptitious   
   dealings. Nemesis may have been true before tonight, but one look into   
   Alex's eyes from across the kitchen table -- and past the gun that rested   
   ominously between them -- changed the status quo.   
      
   Once the morning hours crept closer and the world began to wake, Mulder got   
   up to stretch and put an ear to the bedroom door, wondering why Krycek   
   hadn't risen yet. He didn't know what Alex was to him anymore, but when he   
   heard nothing from the interior of the bedroom he began to get worried.   
      
   Odd that he could feel anything other than derision toward Alex Krycek.   
      
   But his heart began to react at the thought of Krycek breaking his promise   
   and taking his life some other way. Fear coursed through him, and he   
   suddenly realized this man wasn't just his constant: he made up a piece of   
   Mulder's soul.   
      
   If Scully was like the ship in the storm that protected him and kept him   
   tethered to all that was warm, emotional and *human*, then Alex was the   
   churning ocean, wild and dangerous, something always to be respected and   
   never to be underestimated. Alex made up that half of him that reacted in   
   anger; the side that was quick to judge and mete out justice; the unhinged,   
   feral aspect to Mulder he worked so hard to control.   
      
   And Mulder realized he needed them both to stay afloat.   
      
   There was no lock on the bedroom door, and once Mulder got over the initial   
   fear that he would find Alex dead, he breathed a sigh of relief over the   
   sleeping man's body.   
      
   So now here he sat, watching the gently rising and falling white down   
   comforter and Alex's tense, cat-like form. It felt surprisingly intimate,   
   staring into the soft, almost gentle face of the man who a few hours ago had   
   begged for help from the person who had done nothing but hurt him.   
      
   Mulder had raised the blinds halfway this morning -- after checking out the   
   relative safety of Alex's brick-walled view -- hoping the light would rouse   
   the sleeping man. The sun was streaming in through the edges of the window   
   blinds, casting a mixed dance of light and shadow over Alex's nose and   
   mouth. He must be exhausted, Mulder thought, tipping his head to get a   
   better look at Alex's peaceful features that were marred by the red, split   
   lip and bruised cheek. Mulder noticed the swelling had gotten worse from the   
   previous night, as if someone had painted angry, purple and blue marks   
   across Alex's face.   
      
   Mulder felt mesmerized for a second, simply looking at him. In reality, they   
   were so much more alike than Mulder had ever imagined: both seeking some   
   kind of quiet release, a sense of peace from the harsh, angry world they had   
   been forced to become accustomed to. Mulder felt like he was banging his   
   head against the wall in his quest for the truth -- it was probably like   
   Krycek had said to him all those months ago. There is no truth. There was no   
   Holy Grail or shiny plastic prize at the end of this fight. There had been   
   nothing but death, sadness, and guilt for the past few years, and it hadn't   
   gotten him any closer to the great mysteries of the universe. All it did was   
   fuck him up a little bit more every day.   
      
   It had to be like that for Alex as well. But, unlike Mulder, he was alone   
   through the worst of it. Alex didn't have a Scully. Alex didn't have anyone   
   to hold him when it felt like the world was crashing down, when having   
   someone to trust meant more than life itself.   
      
   His eyes drifted to the empty space below Alex's left shoulder. He wondered   
   if Alex had been alone when he lost his arm. Aside from the half-assed quip   
   tossed between them when Alex visited him that night, Mulder had no idea   
   what had happened. Of course it was a result of the gulag experiments   
   because of what the truck driver's wife had said: "No arm, no test."   
      
   He then had a horrible recollection of that night, sleeping on the floor of   
   the tiny cabin and being awakened by what he thought were the sounds of   
   animals coming from somewhere in the forest. At the time he thought it was   
   the stress and fear overwhelming his senses, but looking down at Krycek he   
   felt suddenly sick as the past came into clearer focus.   
      
   It wasn't an animal.   
      
   They were human screams.   
      
   Mulder swallowed and sighed deeply. Add those terrifying sounds to the   
   cacophony that haunted his dreams, he thought soberly. He bit his bottom lip   
   and stared at Alex's ravaged arm, hidden by the comforter.   
      
   Mulder lifted his hand and placed it gingerly on what remained of Alex's   
   left arm, careful not to disturb the bedspread. He realized his hand was   
   shaking slightly as it moved slowly up to where the comforter touched Alex's   
   bare shoulder. Gently, he brought his fingertips down, almost feather-like,   
   onto the smooth skin, his breath catching in his throat when Krycek moaned   
   in his sleep. Mulder didn't move until he was sure Alex hadn't woken up, and   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)