What If - 2

By Shang (shang@shang-fic.net)

Website: http://www.shang-fic.net/

Rating: R

Pairing: Sk/M UST, K/Marita Angst

Category: Episode related - just a touch of Ascension and 3

Summary: Desire, jealousy twist the conscience. You just do things wrong. Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!

Disclaimer: They belong to the truth, justice and evil.

Archive: Slashing Mulder, the Basement, etc..and others please ask

Beta: Thanks Bertina who did the first beta read several months ago. And a big thank you to Ego who is so nice to beta read it again when I asked for help.

Warning: Read here before you take the risk to read the story.

Skinner's office
August 11, 1994

Skinner's POV

Swiftly, I scan the bathroom where a faint smell of vomit lingers, my eyes stop at the tiny blood stains under the sink. I wipe them clean along with a little vomit remaining on the edge of the toilet. Then flush all the dirty tissues. Damn! Seems like I'm covering my own crime scene...the thought reminds me that I have to change clothes. There are small blood spots on my slacks and the hem of my dress shirt, too.

I retrieve my last clean clothes and return to the bathroom to change. I see a few drops of blood on my briefs. Frowning, I peel them off and feel a slight discomfort on the head of my penis.

"Shit!" The skin must have torn when I dry fucked him. In an instant, the fear of probably being infected by any disease from Krycek eats at me. I wash the head and wish my doctor will write me a clean bill of health!

After changing clothes, I gather all the others I wore during camping in my office these past few days to put them away in my gym bag. Checking around, everything is fine, the office and the bathroom are as neat as usual. "Good."

I start to shake. My God, I just raped a man. My legs give up on me; I slide down on the bathroom floor, my mind flies. "I knew you'd make me fall..."

Krycek's apartment
August 11, 1994
Dawn

Krycek's POV

Leaving out of the garage, I look back at the Hoover building, trying to memorize it. Saying goodbye to my career, goodbye to my so called ‘normal life’. I'm leaving with a lot of regrets, I've made a wrong choice and now I have to pay for it by loosing everything and being hurt badly.

Afraid of attracting anyone, I drive away at a normal speed though the pain in my ribs and ass are killing me. Fortunately, the traffic isn't heavy this early in the morning. Passing Chinatown, and two more blocks, I'm home.

"What the fuck?" I jab at the button of the elevator repeatedly, but it seems to stop on the floor, my floor, forever. Sighing, I take the stairs. "Ow," I mutter,it hurts everywhere. I move carefully, gingerly, concentrating on my breathing. The little distance to the third floor leaves me panting, and cursing to reach there. Besides my ribs, my ass is burning too; and it makes me feel the most weak.

"I'll pay you back, Skinner!" I swear through clenched teeth.

"Hello, Agent Krycek." A cold throaty voice startles me. I swing around to see it is Marita standing in front of the elevator. One of her high-heel shoes is wedged between the doors to stop them from closing.

"Now I know why I should've taken the stairs, 'comrade' Marita." How long has she been here? All night?

"C'mon, I am having trouble with my shoe. Would you be nice and pick it up for me?" She says dreamingly, and then leans on the wall boneless.

In another time and place, that would work on me perfectly, you bitch. Though right now I really want to fuck a tough woman like Scully or you to feel strong again, To rebuild my confidence in being a man, I can't fuck you with my ass bleeding and the scent of another man's sweat on me.

I lean on my door boneless, actually too exhausted from the pain. "Too bad, my ribs are broken...you have to do it yourself!"

Her seductive smile disappears; she pulls the shoe out easily and puts it on.

It's strange; the elevator doors don't close up.

Marita sashays towards me, smiles again, evilly. "Poor Alex," She lifts my shirt up, exams my torso and grins smugly. "You save me a lot of trouble."

I watch in shock when she fishes out a syringe from her sleeve. Within a glance, she stabs me with it. "It should ease your pain, thank me, Alex."

I go limp and fall to the floor. Soon the darkness claims me, but before I loose consciousness, I see two pairs of men's feet coming out of the elevator to join Marita.

"Have a nice trip, Alex." Hands grab me, carry me.

NO! I scream in my mind, consciousness slips away.

Skinner's office
August 11, 1994
Morning

Skinner's POV

Kim entering the outer office breaks my daze. Standing in my private bathroom, I wash my face and go back to my office.

"'Morning, sir." She smiles in a way that seems the world has never changed.

"I'd appreciate if you knock on my door first," I grumble. Yeah, I am acting like an asshole. But my world has changed, okay?

"I did-" Kim tries hard to keep her smile.

Sigh. "I'm sorry. Good morning to you." I try hard to put on a smile, too. We both act awkwardly.

She closes the door softly. I begin pacing impatiently, suspecting Krycek would report me; at the same time, I worry if I should have my blood tested for HIV first. Guess the career I worked so hard for to sit in this office wins, I can't let Krycek blow it away and I have to make sure he won't. His apartment is not too far away from the Hoover building...

"Sir? Where're you going?" Kim asks when I pass her on my way out.

"Breakfast," I lie; I don't have a damn appetite right now.

"But-" She eyes the clock. It's seven eighteen; you can't go and eat right now.

"I'll be back soon," its true...I hope. Though I really don't intend to do further harm to Krycek, but at this point I don't even believe my conscience. I might kill- no! I won't, I'm not the criminal Krycek accused me of being.

I break traffic laws a couple of times to pull up at his apartment in less than ten minutes. Something is wrong; the name slot and call button listing Krycek in apartment 36 is ripped off. I try to go through his mailbox; it's empty already, not even a sale paper.

I pull out my gun and rush to his floor, approaching his door cautiously. I can't call for back up; it's my own business, so I'm on my own. Listening carefully for any sign that Krycek might still be inside, I'm startled by a young man coming out of the next door. He is frightened at seeing a surly man holding a gun and he's stunned like a deer caught in headlights.

On reflection, I show him my badge and he bursts out in a nervous laugh. Damn you, stupid Idiot, don't you know to keep quiet? You'd alert whoever's on the other side of the door and put my life and your ass at risk. I stare at him.

"Sir-" He slouches against his door, a weird grin hangs on his face. I hate people with his lousy, careless attitude.

"What's so funny?" I grunt and keep alert of Krycek's door.

"If you want to find Mr. Krycek, he's gone." The young man snorts at my tension.

"What?" I kick open the door in anger, and find everything is still neatly in place. "His things are still here, what do you mean he's gone?"  I turn to look at the young man who following me into Krycek's apartment.

"Well, this morning I heard something outside my door, so I watched through the peephole. I couldn't see the whole thing but I could hear them clearly." He says with excitement. "Man,  that woman was hot and those men were as strong as the action movie stars-"

Oh, cut the crap! I have no patience for his movie preview, "Did Krycek mention where they went?"

"No, he didn't have a say in it, they drugged him! I heard them go into his room and leave through the back door, so I watched from my kitchen window. They had a van waiting in the ally, the big guys threw him in the back...you know, like in a mafia movie, wow, did I witness a kidnapping? Are you going to put me into a protection program? Where's the safe house? "

The idiot! You've seen too many action movies, the good guys win and the bad guys die. This is a real life; you can't survive in the consortium's hands.

"We might have need of your help later when the investigation begins. For now,  I just need your name and phone number." I take my notepad and begin to write down what he says then ask him to leave.

I close the door and look carefully around Krycek's apartment. His bedroom, bathroom, living room and kitchen...So THEY pulled out the implant in the FBI? Krycek's gone? That's it?

Recalling I didn't touch anything in this room, I go to his bathroom and tear off the page I just wrote down then flush it down the toilet. I'm not here, never ever been here, or talked to anyone.Deny everything, that's it.

I return to my office a little later than usual; Mulder is pacing in the outer office. Sigh, he is the last one I want to see at this moment. I just raped Krycek a couple of hours ago, I feel dirty and fear someone as spooky as he is would smell my crime.

"Agent Krycek was hired or suborned..." I read out loud from his report, my heart is also pounding painfully loud; Mulder is damn right about Krycek. I read on with the guilt of knowing the truth, "And the possible murder of the train operator at..."

If I don't handle this carefully, my career is over, maybe worse - I'll be terminated like Krycek. Immediately, I'm angry with the situation Mulder's put me in. But when I look, all I see is the overnight stubble showing the tiredness showing on his face, and those eyes twinkling stubbornly for the truth and justice...Mulder, oh, Fox! My heart is broken for you, I want to hold you and tell you how badly you're going to lose your fight and how much I feel sorry that I can't offer the truths you deserve.

"I need to see Agent Krycek. Immediately," I say to Kim through the intercom. Of course he won't be found. I'm just going through the motions for Mulder.

I walk away to stand by the window, feeling shame and guilt, I can't face him. Never thought… it'll be soon coming to the point - should I save Mulder or my own ass?

"I can't protect you, Agent Mulder. Past a point, this will become a larger bureau matter." Coward, Walter. I talk without turning to face him; I'd burn to ash by his judging glare.

Mulder goes nuts when I tell him Krycek is gone. I'd love that explosion of his emotions if it were some other time and based on any case not concerning the consortium. But now I only fear the fact that he hates me, that I seem no use to him, that he might think I'm one of his enemies. Don't do this to me, Fox. I want to give you what I can. At least let me try the least bit, "There's only one thing I can do, Agent Mulder. As of right now, I'm reopening the X-Files. That's what THEY fear the most."

Standing up, unconsciously, I have an impulse to walk to him, embrace him to make sure
everything is fine...I catch myself from doing that. Well, it's out of the question, anyway.

The problem is, how far can I go to protect Fox?

Krasnoyarsk, Russia
August 13, 1994
Dawn

Krycek's POV

Dreams, one after another, continuous and regretful. Lily gave birth to a beautiful pony; dad hugged me the day I graduated from college; the fire that burned our farm house; the funeral I buried my parents together; I cried holding a check from their life insurance company. My new life in the big city on my own; women that I've slept with; an argument with a training coach at the FBI Academy; shopping for my first day in the Hoover Building; my desk. Then the nightmares begin; Spender, Mulder, my first killing...no, no, no...Skinner, stop, stop it, STOP!

I know I'm dreaming, but I can't wake from it. I don't want to, because if I did, I'd be in the real nightmare that I'll never awake from. I wish I were dead.

Between the dreams, I barely wake up enough to realize where I am, but I do feel that I'm on a moving train. I can hear and feel the rhythm for several seconds, then nothing. Someone gives me another shot to keep me sedated...the dreams...

Suddenly, I'm slapped awake by Marita.

"Honey, time for your bath..." Ow, you bitch, can't wait to touch me? My ribs hurt when she cuts my bandage off. I don't remember when she'd bandaged me. I wipe her hand away weakly and feel hungry. Immediately, Marita slips a warm, wet cotton ball on my lips, fakes her sympathy, "Poor thing, you may talk now."

My mouth tastes like I haven't brushed my teeth forever, and my lips are already split a little from being so dry. And aside from a little nausea, I'm starving like I can eat her alive. So I guess she had sedated me for more than one or two days. I check my arm, there are two tiny holes prove the fact.

"Food."

She laughs, and says cruelly, "After I clean you up."

"Ah!" She is not at all gentle with me, "I bet no one loves you!" I spit in frustration.

Marita giggles, "You, Arntzen, love me."

Arntzen? Narrowing my eyes, I remember she said something about a trip, but not a change of my name, "Where am I exactly?"

"Our honeymoon, of course. In your hometown Krasnoyarsk," Her smile makes me sick. "In Siberia, Russia."

"What?" No, this is much much worse than dead, "First, I'm not a Russian, this isn't my hometown. And three, just what on earth do you people want from me? Is Spender tossing me here to spend the rest of my life? Is this the way the consortium punishes me for messing up things?"

The bitch hushes me, "I said here's your hometown - that made you a Russian. Oh, and you'd better remember your name - Arntzen." She tries to unfold my fingers that are firmly guarding the last line of my defense - the fly of my jeans.

I don't know if she already noticed the tiny blood stains on the rear of my jeans, they should have dried to look like coffee stains. I pray she wouldn't guess what happened to me except I was beaten up. It's very itchy and uncomfortable down there, fuck; Skinner might infect me with some disease or worse - HIV. I wonder how many male partners he slept with.

Now Marita is really mad at me, she slaps me hard until I see stars. "Be a man! Nothing I haven't seen."

Shame and fury, I don't have the energy to fight the bitch back, but I can play dirty. Out of the blue, I grab her hand that is unbuttoning my fly and bite her palm like a rabid dog. She screams in pain then hits my head with the nearest thing she can grab, a plastic basin, to make me release her hand. Well, I'm lucky she didn't choose the scissors beside it.

Someone, looks like a farmer, opens the door. He talks to Marita in Russian, eyeing the mess we'd caused. The basin is on the floor and the water is splashed everywhere. Bandages, scissors, my clothes, pillows and the blanket, then his eyes stop on my opened fly and he gives us a misunderstanding smile.

Both of us are on the bed, too bad I'm straddled under Marita. No, nothing is like what you think, "Help!" I must get out of here.

Marita handles me with one hand pulling the zipper open while talking to the old farmer. He leaves us, leaves the door ajar. I fight with Marita's hands silently, she wins. The terrible woman has the strength to strip my jeans; my briefs are peeled off at the same time.

Damn I'm naked with scratches and days old bruises here and there in front of Marita who is smirking triumphantly.
The man returns and says something to Marita, she follows him out. I take the time to gather my clothes, then shut myself in the bathroom - if I really have to take a shower, in fact I need it badly, I am still capable of doing it myself.

"Need some help, honey?" Marita knocks on the door, lazily.

"Don't call me that, we're not actually on a honeymoon." I answer in defeat, staring at these drug bottles in the cabinet. I can't read the Russian on them. "I need something to clean my wounds..." Well?
I hear her walk away and return; she slides a small white bottle under the door to me. "It's only disinfectant."

Don't have too much energy to wash myself thoroughly, but I take care washing my ass clean.  After shower, I use the stuff to clean my hole, and cry out. It burns!

"Be a man, like I said." That bitch chuckles outside of the door. "By the way, I'm leaving."

"What?" I open the bathroom door, not caring too much that I'm still naked, "What do you mean you're leaving? You gonna leave me here? Alone?" Guess our 'honeymoon' is over.
"Don't worry; he'll take care of you." Marita nods towards the old man who is standing there expressionless.

I frown, hissing my worry and fear. "What am I gonna do here? "

Mulder's apartment
August 18, 1994
Midnight

Skinner's POV

Duane Barry's case was closed, but it becomes a Scully case now. A federal agent was kidnapped, it made my Fox restless. He’s probed here and there, and I got phone calls from people complaining about my unrestrained agent.

I've had enough.

Maybe I really should send him to California, not that I believe there's a vampire worth the use of the federal resources. Like Spender said, it could give Mulder a little sunburn and get Scully out of his mind - just for a while.

But it's not the main reason why I'm here now, climbing to the fourth floor to his apartment with the file clenched in hand.

Actually, I had a fight with Sharon last week after I finished camping in my office. I was in a bad mood, I mean, how could I be fine after I raped Krycek and disappointed Fox? So I said something about Sharon's mom and we finally shouted at each other about our marriage. Well, of course I'm the one being kicked out of the house. Gentlemen wouldn't let their wives wander on the street, right? I stay in a hotel, cheap but clean, and near Fox's apartment. I saw him this morning jogging through the street in front of my window. God blessed me!

Breathe, Walter, hold on. I knock on his door softly and step back to let him see me through the peephole. I wear casual clothes; hoping to give him a different view of me.

Knock, knock. Open the door, Mulder, I know you're home, I hear your TV.

"'E-evening, sir." He is drunk. Swaying a little, he leans on his door frame, blinks, "What can I...dooo...for you?"

"You okay, Agent?" My heart pounds loudly, I see that his hair is wet from the shower. I can smell both the shampoo and the alcohol. "May I come in?"

He doesn't seem to hear me, almost asleep on his feet. I reach out, softly, put my palm on the side of his neck. The second I yell 'YES' inwardly, Fox is alerted by my touch; he brushes me off and looks around. "Skinner, sir? Oh...y-yeah, come on in."

The living room is very dark, I find the switch and turn the light on...doesn't work, "You should fix it, the light is dead, Mulder."

No answer, he slouches on the couch, hands stroke his face, "Like I said, what can I do for you, sir?"

"You haven't showed at work for three days, I just wondered how my Agent is doing."

He chuckles bitterly, murmuring, "What did you think I'd be doing? Scully- "

I can't hear the last, so I walk to his side, hesitantly, I sit by him gingerly. Now I see the tears, just a little but enough to know he's crying.

You're crying for her, Fox?

Our bodies are only inches apart, I want to grab him, kiss him and do everything I want with him. The room is so dark, and the couple begins to make love on the TV...My eyes wander over his body stealthily. Through the light coming from the fish tank, I notice the cross on his collarbone, I thought he was Jewish, "Why that?" I ask, eyeing the necklace.

"Scully's." Mulder says brokenly, he leans back and caresses the cross, closing his eyes.

My heart is dead cold, I'm sinking and sinking. Do you love her?

Jealousy is twisting my conscience, makes me loosen my hold on the file I brought here. I put it on the table in front of him. I'd rather send him away than see him like this. "A case in California. I thought it'd be up your alley." Forget Scully, Fox, forget!

He doesn't move. "Agent Mulder?" His eyes still are closed, moist with tears. Cautiously, I say softly, "Fox?"

My God, he's fast asleep! Beside me! Kiss him, Walter, kiss him. He's defenseless, breathing softly and ripe for seducing. God, I want him so much!

Instead, I cover him with the blanket, throw away his beer bottles, and turn off the TV. I feel depressed when I close the front door behind me.

Tomorrow, Mulder will be on the plane to California...

To be continued...