>He woke alone and sated, not sure for a moment where he was, merely aware of the contentment deep in bones and sinew. A lingering pleasure he hadn't felt since -- the completion of that mental reflection banished the last traces of relaxation. Last night. Pleasure. Pain. Darkness. Krycek.

Oh fuck, Krycek.

Skinner sat up abruptly, eyes cold and wary. It must be later than he thought since golden sunlight spilled in broad pools across polished oak and the muted jeweled brilliance of oriental carpets.

Standing by one of the windows, light and shadows painting his body in golden stripes was the man he had dreamed of, hated, loved, lusted after, and last night, had fucked and hurt. He would not deny, even to himself, just how arousing the sensation of Krycek helpless beneath him had been.

Last night had been a revelation in more ways than one. He'd always known that hatred and lust could coexist, could feed off each other. But he had been innocently unaware of just how strong a drug the mixture was. Lips stretched in a smile that was more of a snarl as he realized that this time there was no need to deny himself. For once in his life he was free to take what hewanted.

Alex Krycek.

There was no movement when Skinner walked up behind him; green eyes remained steadily on the horizon, the delicate colors of the sunrise seemingly absorbing all his interest.

Skinner frowned as he saw bruises on the lean pale body, the angry welts and bite marks that marred the skin. He slowly traced one with a large finger. A strange atavistic thrill ran through him at the thought that Krycekwas wearing his marks.

When he opened his mouth the last words he'd ever thought he would say spilled from his lips.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Nope," the husky voice as always sent shivers down his spine.

"Liar." Skinner growled, suddenly angry.

A flash of dry amusement lit the green eyes, as Krycek half-turned. "What do you want me to say?" A quick graceful shrug. "I can handle whatever you do."

"So you said - last night," Skinner bent his head and bit into one soft ear, pulling the hard lean body into his arms with little gentleness.

The dark madness of the past hours had done much to assuage the worst of Skinner's rage. He was still pissed as hell, but no longer ready to kill. He had seen Krycek stripped of his defenses tremble and scream in pain, mockery gone.

It was almost enough.

Krycek tilted his head to give him better access, shifting his weight untilSkinner's rapidly hardening cock was pressed tightly against the cleft of his ass.

"Last night..." Skinner whispered in his ear, breathing picking up speed, "why?"

Pale skin rippled as Krycek shrugged, a strange bitterness flowing across the elegant features. "Why not?" A self-mocking grin flashed. "Surely you've realized the kind of privileges that go with Consortium membership?"

Large hands tightened in punishment. "I didn't join for the money or power."

A quick twist, and they were face to face. "Which rather leaves open the question of why exactly you're here."

Stepping away, Skinner shrugged. "Would you believe if I said, becauseI think I can make a difference?"

He waited for the inevitable mocking, but instead there was a moment of silence and then a husky chuckle. "Funny, that's exactly what I thought you'd say."

Despite himself there was a flash of answering amusement, and he let it color his voice as he said dryly, "Always happy to be so predictable."

"Not predictable, more - reliable." Krycek stepped closer again, body open and vulnerable. "It's good to know that some things never change." He tilted his head. "You know, there are some benefits that go with the risks and responsibilities. You'll never have to worry about a pension plan again."

"Ah, but the question is, will I live 'til old age?" Skinner countered dryly.

A flash of sardonic humor. "Sorry, I never make any promises about survival, including my own, but you won't need to worry about money again." A pause, a brief hesitation and then he said softly, "And like it or not, you've just acquired another possession."

Skinner frowned. "Do I want to know what you're talking about?"

"Probably not," Krycek admitted a thread of amusement whispering through his voice. "It's one of those things your puritan side disapproves of." He looked away, a strange vulnerability shadowing green eyes for a moment. "You really did save my life yesterday. I was all out of bargaining chips and Mr. Smith has never been too fond of me."

Skinner shrugged, uncomfortable, not wanting to think of his impulsive decision. "Must be your winning personality, Krycek, you're a rattlesnake with a rattle a mile long." He paused, giving Krycek a hard look. "All I want is you out of my life for good." He ignored the faint voice at the back of his mind that whispered, liar.

Krycek shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, Skinner. I'm yours or I'm dead." He smiled wryly. "Look on the bright side, you can have me anytime, any place, any way you want. Cheaper than buying a whore down on the strip, and more fun than your own right hand."

Skinner gave him a long searching look wishing yet again that he knew what was going on behind the dark green eyes watching him with cool mockery. While he was not eager to remember all of last night, neither had he expected Krycek to ignore it. Bitter experience had taught that if there was one thing Alex Krycek knew it was how to retaliate. Nor was he the kind of man to submit tamely to abuse.

A frisson of unease suddenly whispered up Skinner's spine. Staring at Krycek he said coolly. "Give me one reason for not handing you back to Smith, now that I know the nanocytes are neutralized."

He relished the sudden fear shimmering across the green cat eyes. "Ah,but can you trust me to tell the truth?"

Skinner smiled grimly. "Oh, I don't expect you to, but you'll take me to the palm pilot today." There was absolute certainty and Krycek cocked his head in wry agreement.

Hips pressed back, legs spreading as he steadied his weight against the mannuzzling his shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin of an exposed nape. "How about this then? What better way to regain your manhood, than in thebody of the man who took it, hmm?"

It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, the accuracy with which Krycek pinpointed his weaknesses, and for a moment he wondered which of the two of them had been truly fucked last night. In retaliation his hands tightened,hard enough to leave more bruising on the pale skin. But far from flinchingfrom the pain, Krycek simply laughed, the husky mocking sound that never failed to drive him mad and spread his legs.

Ignoring the blatant invitation, Skinner stilled, ignoring the urgent demands of his body. "It's not enough, Krycek."

Something akin to fear shadowed the thin dark face. "If you hand me over to Smith you know what he'll do."

"I know," the deep voice replied evenly.

Bitterness hardened Krycek's eyes to emeralds. "I see. Okay, how aboutthis? I can get you Thomas Halliwell."

Skinner exhaled loudly. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Krycek smiled thinly. "I've known Thomas Halliwell for a long time, I can give you all the info you need to take him down legally."

"How?"

A casual shrug. "Keep me, and I'll give you what you want."

A moment of silence and then; "You have a deal, Krycek."

Krycek's smile never reached his eyes, as he turned, slid his remaining armaround Skinner's neck and pulled it close, kissing Skinner with practiced heat and expertise.

Rubbing up against the solid body behind him, like a cat in heat, he moved sinuously, going to his knees and slipping the hard cock into his mouth, teasing the slit with his tongue before swallowing it deep with the ease of long practice.

Expertly judging the moment, he pulled away, ignoring the instinctive protest, rising to his feet, turning around and bracing himself against the wall.He glanced over his shoulder,  "Come on, Skinner and fuck me."

Pausing in the act of doing exactly that, Skinner hesitated suddenly remembering last night. He knew he had hurt Krycek, and for some to him unfathomable reason, he was hesitant to do so again.

Instead of accepting the blatant invitation he detoured briefly to the table beside the bed, grabbing the tube of lube he'd used the night before, and returning, nudged Krycek's thighs wider apart.

Skinner squeezed a liberal amount of lube on his fingers, reaching down andusing his thumbs to lightly knead a well-muscled ass before pressing insidethe tender, bruised ring of muscle.

He knew Krycek must be hurting, yet the only sign of the inevitable rawnessof barely healed flesh was a minute shifting before Krycek pushed his hips back almost defiantly, throat arched and bared.

Skinner fought to control his breathing as he rode the sensations, long slow thrusts, each flex of his hips sending him deeper into the tight heat, thesensation of slick skin beneath his fingers, the soft moans and responses of the man beneath him. He took without hesitation or gentleness, as Krycek had taken his pride and freedom. Each groan of lust, each stifled sigh of pain was repayment on debts owed.

"God, I hate you," he whispered into the damp hot skin of a vulnerable nape. Thrusting again, he reached around to roughly fist the hard, dripping cock, thumb flicking repeatedly across the swollen head.

A shudder traveled through the pale graceful body writhing beneath him in response to the rough caresses. Krycek moaned softly, the flick of silky-softdark hair sweeping across broad shoulders as he arched, taking Skinner evendeeper.

He caught his breath; it never failed to drive him mad, the free, wild response. A man like Walter Skinner was accustomed to the need for patient coaxing during the long years of his marriage. His previous experience had been the whores of ‘Nam he’d slaked his lust in during his youth - women with no interest in the man, only the color of his money -- the ease withwhich Krycek became aroused by a touch, a caress, a kiss, was a marvel.

In silence they moved; thrust and counter-thrust, the rays of the rising sun coloring sleek, sweaty bodies in shades of gold. Panting heavily, his breath jagged and uneven, the very motion of pushing air through tortured lungs was almost too painful to endure.

Krycek’s breathing grew harsher, more rapid as Skinner felt the body around his cock contract in silken invisible tremors and a flood of warmth spilled across his fingers. That pushed him across the top and he soon followed Krycek over the edge and into the abyss.

As soon as his breathing had evened a little, Skinner abruptly pulled away. "I need a shower," he muttered, going into the bathroom andslamming the door behind him.

Turning the force of the water on to the maximum, Skinner cleaned himself, in more than one way cursing his own weakness. If only he didn't want Krycekso much! But even now, after just fucking the man, even the thought of Krycek stirred his body back to life. With an impatient oath Skinner turned the handle, gasping as icy needles hit him, and momentarily at least, cooled himself off. He only wished it was as easy to cool off his mind.

Wrapping a towel around his hips, he made a decision. He'd accept Krycek's offer, as a bodyguard and, his lip curled, a fuck toy. As his body had reminded him last night, it had been too long since there had been more satisfaction than the occasional solitary jerk-off to a porn flick alone at night in his condo.

Ah yes, he would use, as he had been used.

When he came out again, he found that Krycek had apparently found a shower of his own, if his damp, slicked back hair was anything to go by. The younger man too was dressed in faded tight jeans that left little to the imagination and a black polo necked shirt.

"Mr. Smith is waiting for you," Krycek said calmly, all business.

It was hard to imagine that this was the man who only minutes past had beenmoaning his name, Skinner thought. He strode across the room, grasping the firm jaw between his fingers, turning it slightly to study the severe lines of the face, the enigmatic green eyes.

"I wonder..." he finally said musingly, "if there is such a thing as honest emotion left in you." Slowly he stroked the pliant lipsopen, tasted the hot silk of a willing mouth. A strong hand came up and briefly clutched his shoulder, before sliding down a broad muscular back, pulling him closer.

When they finally had to break apart for air, Skinner's mouth twisted. "Jesus you're a bastard, Krycek."

Krycek breathed out slowly. "I know." For a moment there was regret, soft and fleeting as a summer wind in the husky voice. Then his voice changed, mocking himself and the man glaring at him with hatred in his eyes. "Think of me, as a signing bonus. The chocolate mint on your pillow."

Despite himself Skinner couldn't help the dry inflection of his voice. "Compliments of the management?"

* * *

Skinner sipped tea out of the Royal Derby china cup, watching a soft-footedservant offer a tray of cucumber sandwiches and fruitcake to an old man. Resisting the urge to demand coffee, real coffee, no cream, no sugar, he looked at the man on the other side of the table. "I'll be leaving assoon as the last meeting is over but I'll keep in touch."

Mr. Smith inclined his head. "I will look forward to your report." He hesitated briefly, "Mr. Skinner, while I would not like to interfere in your private business, are you sure that taking responsibility for Krycek is the wisest course of action?" He cast a disdainful look at the dark man standing just inside the door, awaiting the pleasure of his new master, playing the role of loyal servant to the hilt.

Skinner followed his look to the fine-boned enigmatic face, green cat-eyes meeting his steadily, without a flicker of emotion, arms hanging loosely at the side, the real and the prosthetic. The stillness of pose was capable of transforming into action at a moment's notice; an arrow released from the bow, and with the same deadly grace. "No, I'm not sure that it's wise," he admitted in his deep voice.

Mr. Smith pursed his lips. "Nonetheless, our colleague is correct and if you can indeed control Krycek, he is yours, without reservations."

Skinner looked at him thoughtfully. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but why?"

"The truth?" Mr. Smith seemed almost amused, "Krycek, while occasionally extremely effective, is also regrettably flawed. Had it not been for the insistence of a former member of the Consortium he would have beeneliminated a long time ago."

Skinner glanced at Krycek who seemed utterly indifferent to the news, was actually smiling slightly at some private joke. "I see, so you are really off-loading a bad investment on me?"

Mr. Smith said gently, "Not at all, Krycek is a very effective bodyguard and killer. That is of course, the other reason he has not been eradicated. As long as you do not trust him, and keep him on a short leash you shouldhave no problem."

Skinner raised an eyebrow. "I don't think trusting him overmuch will be a problem." He rose abruptly, a tall powerful man, the wire-rim glasses not detracting from the aura of menace. "We may have an alliance, but that doesn't mean I trust you, or your organization."

"I understand, Mr. Skinner."

Turning to leave, he realized that Krycek had silently come up behind him. Skinner gave the younger man a hard look. "You're coming with me?"

"What do you think, Mr. Skinner? Hard to guard someone's back from a distance. From now on, wherever you are, I'm there too."

Ignoring the hot flash that ran through him at the cool words he frowned. "Somehow I don't think the FBI will appreciate me having a personal body-guard from a shadowy global organization."

A flash of white teeth and sardonic humor. "No need for them to know, I'll just be your mid-life crisis; a toy to console you for the breakup of your marriage. This is the age of don't ask, don't tell, they can hardly fireyour ass for swinging both ways." He shrugged and added with casual cruelty, "Besides, you're never gonna go any higher up the fibbie food-chain."

"Much as I appreciate your detailed explanation of my middle aged frailties, and the limitations of my career options," Skinner said dryly, "you forget, you're not just some hustler I picked up from the street. You're a wanted felon."

Krycek shook his head. "Nope, I've been cleared of all charges, go check the records if you don't believe me." He lifted an eyebrow. "One of the perks of the new Consortium." He smiled, "Actually, all it took was some judicious pressure at the right places, a good hacker and voila!" He gestured at himself. "You see before you a blameless citizen of our great and glorious country."

Skinner sighed, "Shut up, Krycek."

"Yes, sir!"

Skinner gave him another hard look.

Stepping into the shining black BMW, he smiled grimly at the sight of Krycek holding the door politely. Quite a difference from the smirking man who'd showed up playing with his little toy, enjoying watching Skinner thrash helplessly.

* * *

Unlocking the door to the condo, Skinner was acutely aware of the man standing silently behind him. He was so hypersensitive he almost jumped when Krycek shifted his weight, the leather of the old jacket creaking softly. He actually flinched as he felt a warm puff of air against his neck.

"Relax, Skinner, I don't bite - much," a soft voice murmured, laughter running through the tone.

Skinner swung around abruptly. "Back off!" he ordered curtly.

A dark eyebrow rose in a question, even as Krycek held up his hands and took a step back. "Hey, I was just kidding."

"I wasn't." Dark eyes crackled with icy rage. "Let's make something clear, Krycek you're here on my sufferance. It's damned clearthe Consortium doesn't want you. If it wasn't for me, you'd be feeding the fish at the moment."

Krycek stared at him for a moment, the knowledge of being a helpless pawn carved deep into the lines of his face. His mouth twisted. "True." Bitterness pervaded the husky voice. "So now what?"

Walter Skinner looked at him coldly. "Now, you prove that you're worththe price, the Consortium put on you. You keep me alive and..." he paused, "satisfied."

There was a sudden flash of anger. "I'm no - " Krycek broke off abruptly. "Fuck, you're enjoying this, aren't you, Skinner?"

"What do you think, you little shit?"

Krycek spat, "I think you're gonna loving grinding my nose in the dirt."

Skinner threw his jacket over the back of the sofa, going over to pour himself a whiskey. "Then you'd be right." He raised an eyebrow, his turn to mock. "Why the pissy attitude, Krycek? You're a whore, and we both know it."

The anger was gone as abruptly. "I may be a whore, Skinner, but I don't come cheap."

Skinner drank down some of the alcohol, feeling it burn all the way down his throat and stomach. "Let's get some things straight. I despise you, Ithink you're an unreliable, treacherous bastard who should be taken out andshot."

Neither of the men recognized the inherent contradiction between Skinner's words and his actions.

Krycek unzipped his jacket, shrugging out of it. "Always happy to be appreciated," he quipped ironically.

Skinner looked down at the remains of the whiskey, swirling it around in the heavy glass, watching the amber liquid slosh gently against the sides. "But for the moment, we're stuck with each other." He gave Krycek a grim look. "Which reminds me, you still haven't told me what the hell you were doing in Thomas Halliwell's apartment two nights ago."

Krycek sighed, "Trying to put together a deal to save my ass. I knew the Consortium wanted Halliwell dead, and I figured if I - "

"... Came bearing Halliwell's head like a trophy all would be forgivenand forgotten?" The question was laced with heavy sarcasm.

"Something like that, yeah."

Skinner shook his head. "Every time I think you've reached the limit, you surprise me, unpleasantly."

"Glad to oblige." The words were snarky, the tone more weary thananything else.

Skinner rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm too tired to deal with this tonight. Tomorrow I'll make sure you get a visitor's pass, it'll be the lesser of two evils, I don't want you caught by some agent lurking outside."

He added a little grimly, "I'll introduce you as a consultant."

"A consultant, now there's a word that covers a multitude of sins," Krycek sprawled down on the sofa, stretching out, making himself at home,like an alley cat. He murmured appreciatively, "I'm looking forward towatching Scully's face tomorrow."

Skinner regarded the tall fluid body with intense dislike, not sharing the anticipation - there were times when Dana Scully definitely lived up to the myth of redheads. "Jesus, I must be crazy to agree to this," he muttered.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll all play nicely together. Green glimmered mockingly beneath dark lashes.

Skinner snorted starting to leave when Krycek spoke behind his back.

"Oh and, Skinner," there was a deceptive mildness to the husky voice that should have warned him.

"Yes?" he turned around - and stared straight into the dully-gleaming barrel of a loaded Walther PPK. Automatically a part of his mind processed the information that Krycek must be wearing a SOB - small of the back - holster, for future reference.

The sound of the safety being cocked was unnaturally loud in the sudden silence of the room.

Krycek said very evenly, "If you ever put your fist up my ass again, I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

Skinner raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed by the reminder of what he'd done. "Did it hurt? Did you feel helpless, abused - raped?"

The ugly words hung in the air between them.

"What the fuck do you think?" Krycek spat, green eyes hard as glass.

"Then you know exactly how I felt lying in that hospital bed, dying."

Krycek stared at him. "Bastard."

Skinner shrugged once. "You want pity? You've come to the wrong man." He crossed his arms, a hard man not giving an inch. "There's too much history between us for you to play the victim now, Krycek."

The sudden smile was genuine albeit wry. "Well it was worth a try, most other guys would be crawling by now, drowning in guilt."

"Easier for you to manipulate?" Skinner stalked across the room, grasping the younger man by the shoulders, the grip firm but not hard enoughto bruise. "Boy, I know you too well to fall for that act." He paused, then suddenly gripped the firm jaw and forced it up for his inspection. "And just so you know, the next time you point a gun atme I'll feed it to you barrel first."

"You're such a hard-ass, Skinner," Krycek murmured with cool irony, the gun disappearing as fast it'd appeared.

* * *

He was almost asleep, body aching from the workout Skinner had given it, curled on his side as far from the other man in bed as possible. He'd wonderedif he should just leave after the fucking, but when he'd tried, Skinner hadgrowled a curt order to stay.

Obviously the AD believed firmly in keeping rats where they could be seen.

"It won't happen again."

The deep voice woke him from a half-slumber. For a moment he almost asked why. "Glad to know."

A long silence, and he had almost drifted off again when Skinner's next words brought him abruptly awake.

"I'm sorry."

Sitting upright he tried to stare through the gloom of the room. "You're what?" The incredulity was obvious.

Skinner was on his back, one arm flung across his face effectively hiding it from view. "You heard me."

"Yeah, I just can't believe I heard right."

The arm moved as one dark eye opened and focused on the man leaning over him. There was a hint of a smile on the stern mouth. "I was out of line."

Krycek sounded genuinely bewildered. "What fucking line?"

Skinner didn't answer.

He blinked once. "You'll beat the shit out of me, but rape is out." Krycek almost laughed aloud. How very typical Skinner. The man was such amixture of outdated honor concepts and uncompromising pragmatism. He'd killfor mom and apple pie, probably even torture and maim if necessary. But bring sex into the equation and he baulked. Damned puritanical American.

Aloud he only said, "Well, that's one load off my mind."

Skinner growled, eyes closed, "Don't push it, Krycek."

"Perish the thought," the younger man said dryly still amazed that Skinner had actually apologized.

* * *

FBI Headquarters, The Next Morning

"Scully, Doggett, in my office now!"

The two FBI agents looked up in surprise at the grim face of their boss. Hewas gone before they could say anything else.

Scully raised an eyebrow at her new partner in mute inquiry.

"We'll find out when we get there," the tall grey-eyed man said laconically. Scully gave him a look compounded equally of annoyance and mild amusement. After more than seven years of being the sensible and logical person it was both irritating and liberating to be partnered with herself.

Pondering life with John Doggett Scully entered Skinner's office after a perfunctory knock. The sight that met her eyes drove all thoughts of her new partner from her mind.

He was standing by the window, a tall lean man, dressed in black leather and faded denim, a man with the face of a fallen angel and the light of the devil in his eyes.

"Krycek!" she hissed.

He cocked his head in the old familiar gesture. "Scully," his voice mocked her hatred.

Skinner stepped between them. "Back off, Scully," he ordered. "Krycek's here at my invitation."

She focused on Skinner, shock evident on her face. "You invited himhere?"

The big man met her glare steadily. "Yes, I did.

She swung around, hands clenching at her sides. "What have you got on him, you son of a bitch?!"

Doggett blinked, he'd never seen his cool, capable partner so emotional andfor a moment his eyes rested on the dark stranger. He knew who Alex Krycek was, like everyone else he'd heard the rumors and whispers, but somehow the reality was very different. The lean body, slouching casually by the window,dark hair flopping down into a thin, too pretty face did not match up to the legend of Alex Krycek, ratbastard and traitor extraordinaire.

As the scene played out before his fascinated eyes, he looked beyond the angry words to body language: Scully's aggressive stance, Skinner's strangely protective pose and of course, the focus of their argument, Krycek's seemingly indifferent, remote posture.

Krycek smiled wryly, something strange glimmering in the green depths. "Would you believe nothing, Scully?"

"No!"

He sighed, turning, almost unconsciously, to the big man looming over him.

"It's the truth, Scully," Skinner said in his deep voice. "Iam not being coerced or blackmailed. As a matter of fact," he smiled alittle grimly, "Krycek is mine now."

That silenced her as nothing else could have. "How?"

"The Consortium." Once again she was about to interrupt when he shook his head sharply. "Face facts, Scully. The Consortium as we knew it is dead and gone, either burned to ashes or," he glanced at the silent man at his side, "otherwise disposed of. What their heirs are doing is something I can support. Something in fact I believe we must support."

"And Krycek?" She did not give as much as an inch.

Skinner sighed, "He's part of the deal. The charges against him have been quietly dropped. After all, we," a corner of his mouth twisted dryly, "have never been able to actually prove anything against him."

Scully snorted, her opinion of Krycek's guilt obvious. "Yes, sir. But that still doesn't explain what he's doing here." With you, her pointed look added.

For the first time Krycek spoke. "By allying with the Consortium, Mr. Skinner is putting himself on the line, there are people outside the government and inside it who don't want him to succeed. I'm here to make sure he stays alive."

Three pair of eyes fastened on Krycek while he spoke. One was hostile, one indifferent and the third - enigmatic.

Skinner shrugged, "As you heard, there are people who think my life may be in danger and they've sent Krycek along as guard-dog."

Scully looked down her nose, not an easy feat when you're the shortest person in the room by about three inches but she managed it effortlessly. "A dog, sir? Does he sleep at the foot of your bed?"

There was a moment's silence, and then Krycek murmured mock-innocently. "I don’t remember you complaining, Scully when I was warming your feet."

Scully's mouth dropped open.

Skinner gave the man by his side an annoyed look, his voice resigned. "Tell me, Krycek, is there anyone here at FBI that you haven't slept with?"

A flash of devilish amusement was his only warning before Krycek answered blandly, "I never slept with either Mulder or Scully, Mr. Skinner. I just fucked them, no sleeping involved."

Scully flushed until the color of her skin matched her hair and gave Kryceka look that should have slain him on the spot. "Sir, I can explain," she began.

Skinner shook his head to prevent further confessions. "No need, AgentScully, I'm only too aware that Krycek went through the halls of FBI like agroupie through a rock band."

John Doggett who had watched the scene unfolding before him in silence shook his head in disgust. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, "I thought I was being assigned to the FBI not some crazy soap-opera."

Krycek chuckled, "Welcome to the world of the X-Files." He resteda hip casually against a desk. "We're just one big happy family, aren't we, Mr. Skinner?"

Skinner's hand fell heavily across a leather-clad shoulder and squeezed a not very subtle warning. "We've got more important things to discuss than Krycek's sexual escapades."

Scully's cheeks still flamed. "Yes, sir."

"Scully, Doggett, we've got a meeting here in half an hour, I want an update on what's happening with Halliwell." They hesitated and he growled, "Move it, people!"

Such was the force of his personality that although Doggett still looked incredulous and Scully tight-lipped, they left.

Once alone, Skinner turned on the grinning man sprawled in a chair. "Rabble rouser."

Krycek grinned, "Sorry, I couldn't resist, they're so easy."

"Yes, they are," Skinner's voice was very dry.

A soft chuckle, "Anyone tell you you've got a dirty mind?"

* * *

"... We are still not getting anywhere. He's covered his tracks too well. The boys in the backroom are trying to hack into his financial records, but so far no luck."

Although both Scully and Doggett were manifestly punctilious, neither of them could resist sneaking little glances at the silent man sitting in the corner. Slouching in the chair, looking bored, fingers drumming a tattoo on thesmooth surface of the armrest from time to time, his presence making the room hum with unspoken tension.

Skinner frowned. "What about his street contacts?"

"You're never going to get him through the dealers. He's too careful."

Three heads swiveled to stare at Krycek.

"Ah yes, our resident Halliwell expert," he ignored the look Krycek shot him, "tell us what we've missed, what's not in the file."

Krycek thought for a moment. "Don't know just how good your info is onhim, but I'll tell you one thing, Halliwell has survived this long for one reason, he always covers all his bases. He's one of the money men for the Consortium, but he's got his fingers in other pies as well."

"And you know him exactly how?" That was Scully.

He smiled sourly, "I used to courier for him once or twice."

"Couriering what?" Scully persisted.

He shrugged, "Guns, drugs, information, whatever he wanted me to carry."

Skinner had listened in silence, arms crossed over his chest. "Keep talking."

Krycek frowned thoughtfully, "He's got few weaknesses and doesn't trust anybody."

"Sexual habits?"

Scully ignored the three incredulous pair of eyes turning to stare at her, saying coolly, "We found some pretty exotic toys in Halliwell's condo, do they belong to him?"

"Yeah, Halliwell likes his little games," Krycek's mouth twisted briefly. "But I don't think it's something you'll be able to use. He's careful, everyone is adult and it's all 'consensual.'" He cocked his head, thinking. "If you want him legally," cold irony shaded his voice, "then your best bet are the secret files he keeps on all his dealings."

"Halliwell keeps records?" Doggett asked sharply. "You sure?We've been looking ever since this operation started, but the word on the street is that he got burned badly in the past."

Krycek smirked, "Yeah, I know that rumor. Guess who started it?"

Skinner glanced at Doggett and Scully, "Check it up," he ordered curtly before turning back to Krycek. "Anything else you can tell us?"

"If you wait, the problem will resolve itself," he glanced at Skinner, "there are other peoples besides the feds that are pissed as hellat Halliwell and they'll solve the problem their usual way."

"Why is the Consortium after Halliwell?" That was Scully, her body proclaiming louder than words dislike of the man that looked at her, a smile in his bottle-green eyes.

Krycek's voice was suddenly colder than liquid hydrogen. "He sold out to the enemy. Some good people died because Halliwell got greedy."

"Good people?" Scully asked in blatant disbelief. "Are theresuch a thing in the Consortium?"

Krycek shifted, and something in his face silenced her. "Don't be too quick to judge, Dana," her name was a soft challenge, "you've onlyseen one side of the Consortium. Remember, when you fight for your life, there is little room for mercy or compassion."

They stared at each other, and it was Scully who dropped her eyes first.

Skinner realized that once again Krycek had managed to surprise them all. He remained an ever-changing enigma, capable of casual, ruthless cruelty, easily dismissed as nothing but a thug and assassin. Then there would be moments like this, tantalizing flashes of another Krycek, of a man who fought for a cause, with little glory and less recognition.

There was a moment when he wished, uselessly, that things had been different; that they could have been on the same side. That what bound him to Alex Krycek was more than bitter memories, hatred and lust.

On to Part 3