Author/pseudonym:Debra Fran Baker
Pairing: M/Sk/K
Rating: NC-17
Status: New, complete
Archive: Yes
E-mail address for feedback: dfbaker@panix.com
Other websites: http://www.panix.com/~dfbaker
Disclaimers: Chris Carter's, not mine. May be reproduced for personal use only.

Summary: Krycek picks at an open emotional wound. Warnings: None, really. Threesome, if that means anything.


Debra Fran Baker

I'd watched them before. I'm good at watching, at seeing in the dark. And I've seen them, tangled together in motel sheets like some adulterous couple, fearful of their respective spouses.

And each time I follow them, lurking in the shadows with the other rats, I tell myself it's the last time. That I'm a fool for doing this. That all I'm doing is torturing myself, tearing out my heart. That I'll get caught one of these days. Each time I say this.

Until the next, like this night. I saw them in the parking garage. Mulder caught Skinner's eye and Skinner nodded. His partner was there, but if she noticed, she didn't give a clue. She knows, though. She doesn't approve, so she doesn't say, but she knows. I watched her glare at Skinner's car as he drove away. I know that look. I share that look. It galls me that we have this bond, but it also gives me hope.

But Mulder doesn't see this. If he doesn't want to know, if he doesn't want to believe, it doesn't happen. I watched him climb into Scully's car before getting into my own.

I didn't follow her. I know the route better than I know my way home. I've traveled it more often.

She dropped him at home. Mulder, full of contradictions - expensive suits that never saw a tailor, a man who hated to be driven yet didn't own a car, violent but so fragile. I hated myself for loving him.

I waited outside his apartment. He was down again in moments, suit of armor changed for old jeans and a leather jacket. He looked younger like that, smaller. If it weren't for his eyes, he could almost pass as a rebellious student. But I'd seen the pictures of Fox Mulder as a teenager. He'd always had those eyes.

I hope that when I get to Hell, Bill Mulder is there waiting for me, rotting.

Best job I ever did. Consortium didn't even have to pay me.

At least, I thought so until I saw that his eyes were even older afterwards. He wasn't supposed to *love* the bastard. Of course, I wasn't supposed to fall in love with Mulder, either.

He hailed a cab and got in. I had a reasonable idea of which motel was on tonight's schedule, so I didn't bother following. I just drove off on a different route.

*He* was already there when I arrived. I parked my own vehicle on the other side and maneuvered back to him. He didn't notice me at all, but I noticed him.

Skinner was leaning against his car. He'd discarded his tie along with his jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt collar. The white shirt emphasized his muscles better than the tightest t-shirt, and his suit pants outlined his slim hips and generous endowments enough to make my breath short and my jeans tight.

But then I could never breath around Skinner - even when I tried to control his life, I couldn't control my own reactions to him. How did it feel to be Mulder? How did it feel to be wrapped up in those arms, covered, filled by that man? If he made Mulder feel safe, I could love him as well as hate him for giving what I could not. And for giving Mulder what I... I didn't let my mind go further.

The cab pulled up, and Mulder got out. I sank further back into the shadows. Skinner's face lit up. That smile went straight to my soul. It always did. As for Mulder - he kept those eyes down and his lips together. That always happens, too.

He couldn't walk to Skinner fast enough. Each step was a dagger to my heart, but I had to keep watching. And then Mulder was wrapped in those arms in a hug so warm and gentle that I ached. I couldn't do that for him now. I could never hold him close and apart from this world, the way he needed, the way Skinner could.

For the first time, I wondered how Mulder felt inside that cocoon. Did he feel safe? Smothered? Loved? Confused? Mulder and I showed our love through violence. He wouldn't let me give him anything else.

Skinner loosened his hold enough for Mulder to meet his lips. I knew how that full lower lip tasted, how it felt hard and angry against my own mouth. I remember our tongues wrestling for dominance. There was none of that here. I watched Mulder melt into Skinner, watched them drown together. I rubbed my eyes.

They broke apart slowly, and walked arm in arm towards one of the doors. It was a matter of moments for me to thread a fibre-optic camera through their door and to pick the lock of the room next to theirs.

I connected it to the television - these cheap rooms don't get the VCR-proof TVs, and ran to bribe the desk clerk for that very room. It didn't take much of a bribe. If I wanted room twelve, it was no skin off his nose.

I knew I had time. Mulder never settled down right away. He had to burn off his nervous energy by pacing and talking and it did no good to try to change that. Even Skinner's overwhelming presence wouldn't change that.

It would have had me turn to jelly... don't go there.

I was back in my room, this time legally with a key, in five minutes. I turned on the set. Mulder was still pacing, but he was slowing down. Skinner was watching him with a patient smile. He'd settled down on the bed, dwarfing it with his size, and removed his shoes and socks, and had pulled his shirttails out of his pants. My mouth went dry.

And then the pain started again. Mulder crept back into Skinner's arms.

"Oh, God, Walter. I missed you." He buried his head in Skinner's shoulder.

"Missed you, too, Fox." That was another knife to my gut. If I'd dared to use the forbidden name, I'd get another punch in the face. All Skinner got was more nuzzling.

The nuzzles turned to kisses and then to nips. I hated this. I hated the surge of jealousy that ran through my body. I hated the arousal I felt at the same time. I am *not* a voyeur. I don't make porn movies a way of life like Mulder does. Hell, I've spied on people having sex before in *every* possible combination, and it meant almost nothing to me.

But this... every time I pick at this scab, I get hard. As they tear away each other's clothing in the room next door, I unzip my jeans and take my penis out.

I couldn't take my eyes away from the screen. Skinner was wearing only his shirt now, and it was unbuttoned. Mulder was skinning out of his own jeans, so I had a beautiful view of the man, and he was magnificent as always, massive and masculine. He stroked himself lazily as he watched Mulder. I echoed his actions with my own hand.

Mulder came back into the picture, and my attention was diverted to his perfect rear. Nothing could ever hide it - not ratty sweats or fancy suits and certainly not old jeans - but revealed it was... I couldn't take my eyes away. I remembered how it felt beneath my hands, how beautifully it bruised...

He began kissing Skinner again, moving down that body as if trying to taste every inch. He paused to suck at a nipple or two. I could hear Skinner moan and Mulder breathe hard, fighting to keep my own noises down.

Skinner sat up and moved to the foot of the bed, presenting a profile to my little camera. He was enormous, rock hard and leaking, and I... I could feel my muscles contract at the thought of taking him inside me.

Mulder knelt in front of him. There was that smile, as brilliant as the sun. I almost never got a chance to see that except for these times. And then he took all of Skinner into his mouth. My jaw ached.

As always, I was struck by how right Mulder looked like that. How beautiful he was like that. I could hear him moan in pleasure in time to Skinner, who was tangling his hand in Mulder's hair.

Mulder moaned louder when Skinner pushed his head away. The man had to have a will of iron. I knew what Mulder's mouth could do.

Skinner dragged him to his feet. My breath stopped for a moment. Yes, Skinner was magnificent, but Mulder was... heartbreaking in his beauty. Where it wasn't scarred from injury and surgery, his skin was smooth and elegant and I remember the marks it took.

Skinner took Mulder's arm and guided him to the bed, carefully laying him face down, and placing a pillow under him.

I moaned. The angle of the camera was all wrong. I couldn't see more. I told myself it would be a relief, that I didn't need to see Skinner take *my* Mulder again.

I didn't need to see because I'd seen it all before.

Mulder would be lying on the bed, naked and vulnerable. Skinner would be stroking that perfect butt, and then preparing Mulder so gently and lovingly I'd feel like crying and killing Skinner.

But I'd needed to see it anyway. I needed to feel that pain, he needed all of it. That's why I was here. I buried my face in my hand, and tried to tune out what was going on on the set.

I heard a knock on the door.

What the hell?

I put myself together as quickly as I could, and grabbed my gun. Cautiously, I walked to the door and, standing out of eyeshot, I opened it.

*He* was there. His shirt was still unbuttoned. He had his pants on, but they were unbuttoned, too. I couldn't speak.

"View's better in that room, boy. Leave the piece."

"H-h-h... "

"We saw the camera." I shivered at the anger in his voice. I also grew harder.

I opened my mouth to speak but there were no words.

"How long, boy? How long have you been spying on us? And how much have you been paid?"

It was hard, but I forced the words out. "No one pays me. No one else knows. You think... you think I'd put *him* in danger?"

"Do you *know* what he's doing now, Krycek? Do you know what you're putting him through?"

I turned to the set, but a hand on my bad shoulder stopped me.

"I destroyed that toy of yours."

I looked at him. His voice was perfectly calm, and that was more frightening than even his anger.

"He's back there, alone. I'm going back to the room, and *you* are going with me, Krycek."

I nodded mutely, wondering why he hadn't drawn the weapon I saw tucked in his pants. I looked again. Three weapons. Two standard FBI issue and one smaller one - Mulder's ankle gun. He was carrying Mulder's weapons. Mutely, I handed him my own and let him guide me to their room.

Mulder was still on the bed, still naked, still heartbreakingly beautiful.

He stared at me with those ancient eyes, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around them. "Krycek." I reeled from the hatred in his voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mulder."

"Why?" Those eyes were burning me, right down to my soul. To my surprise, I had one.

"To... see you. To... know."

"Know what? That you could destroy *him* in one phone call?"

He reached out a hand. Skinner took it, held it tightly, interlaced their fingers.

"No! That... that he made you... made you happy. That this... this danger was worth it. To... to protect you."

"Protect us?"

"Think about it. I'm *good*, I'm the best. But I've been following you two on your trysts for months, since you started, and you never twigged until now. So your precautions weren't good enough. Mine are."

"Krycek... how good?"

"Damn good." I thought about a couple of guys who would *never* report back to their masters, other than through a medium at a seance.


I collapsed on the only chair in the room, and hid my face. Mulder's voice was drained of anger.

"Krycek? Alex? Why?"

"Because you need protection. And I would do anything, risk anything, to protect you. And if *he* makes you happy, I'll protect him, too." The truth burned coming out. I wanted to bury my face again, but I forced myself to look straight at them both.

Mulder had relaxed enough to sit cross-legged on the bed, but he still grasped Skinner's hand like a lifeline. Skinner hadn't moved, except to use his other hand to stroke the one he held.

"What are you saying, Alex?" Skinner sounded almost gentle now.

I bit my lip and then took a deep breath. "I love him." I focused on Mulder. "I love you. At least as much as I can love anyone. I'll kill for you. I'll die for you."

To my shock, and that of Skinner's, Mulder tore his hand free, gathered up his knees again and began to rock.

Instantly, both of us rushed to him. I sat ineffectually at the foot of the bed, while Skinner wrapped his arms around him, refusing to let Mulder shake him off.

"Don't... no... please. Don't say those words."

No, he wouldn't want to accept love. Not from me, at any rate. I looked at Skinner, who nodded.

"Not from you, either?

"No. Not with words." He just looked at me.

"You believe me?" Skinner nodded again. "I could hate you for it, but... no."

I looked at them, at Skinner's strength and power, at Mulder's beauty and need. And I tore off my jacket and my shirt, and shrugged off the prosthesis. I hated it, but I couldn't touch him with that plastic... thing.

And then I wrapped my arm around Mulder as best I could, allowing Skinner to complete the circle I couldn't make. To my surprise, Skinner did more than that. I found myself held in his strength. I was right. It felt safe there.

Mulder slowly relaxed under Skinner's words and my strokes. Eventually, he was able to lie down between us, although he still shook occasionally. Skinner motioned to me and I got up.

It took some management, but we got him covered up with the blankets and bedspread. I think Skinner could have done it himself, but he was gracious enough to pretend he needed my help.

Skinner then took off the rest of his clothes, carefully stashing the guns as far from the bed as possible and climbed, gathering up Mulder as he did. It was a measure of my condition that I felt neither arousal nor jealousy at that sight. It just looked the way things should be.

"I'll go back to my room now."

I turned to leave.

"No." Mulder's whisper stopped me in midstride.


"Don't go. Stay. Here. Please."

Skinner didn't bother to whisper. "Yes. Stay here... Alex. With both of us. Don't be alone tonight." I read the words "or ever" in his eyes, and for a moment I felt like curling into a ball of my own.

Instead, I took off my boots and my jeans, and joined them on Mulder's other side. Even when we were lovers, we never finished a night together, Mulder and I. He or I would always pack up and leave.

I'd dreamed of sleeping with him in my arms. Now, holding him close, being held close by Walter Skinner, I slept soundly for the first time in years.

<the end>

Copyright 2000 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates