Title: CHANCE ENCOUNTERS V
Story in 6 parts
Date: Written July, 1999
Posted October, 1999
Summary: A series of chance encounters can have
Archive: Ratlover, CJK, Basement.
DISCLAIMER: These are the property of CC, Fox and
CHANCE ENCOUNTERS: This being the Fifth
The top ranks of the Consortium lay clustered in the
Burnt. Most beyond recognition. Some into seared
Because of Mulder's involvement, Cassandra Spender's
disappearance yet again, the role the X-Files had
played, Walter Skinner found his department assigned
Stone-faced, voice brisk, expressionless, he supervised
the tagging of bodies, such as some were, for future
identification. Some had no discernable body part to
be tagged and so numbered cards were placed near for
And all the time he examined the site, answered his
agents' few questions, conferred with the forensic
specialists, he kept his eyes open for a body with no
Once his heart stopped when he found a body that seemed
to qualify, but the pile of cinders next to it held no
By the end of the thirty-hour period it took to
carefully bag the forty-seven bodies and anything
remotely near them, Skinner was numb.
He had memorized several of the tag numbers that might
prove to be the man he sought.
Dana Scully had been put in charge of forensic
identification at his request. Not only did he feel
that she was the best qualified of his people for the
job, but this way all identification reports would come
across his desk.
Weeks later, nineteen of the bodies still hadn't been
identified. DNA records, dental records, blood type
had to be matched and all this took time.
Skinner grew more and more silent with each report
passing over his desk. Most of his staff never
noticed. They were all trying hard to deal with the
enormity of the problems, the revelations of those
involved, men of influence, men of status, men many of
them had respected.
Before the deaths, he had sold the condo and bought a
house in Arlington. The condo had never felt like home
and the house had a yard, room to spread out in, space
for an office. Wood and brick were more solid than an
apartment on the seventeenth floor of some cement and
metal construction. Then he had needed grounding.
He moved in, barely unpacked. His days began too early
and finished too late.
His neighbours, after initial attempts to introduce
themselves were coldly rebuffed, left him alone. Some
of them knew he was with the FBI. None of them had any
idea of his involvement with the strange deaths of the
"cult" that had made the news only scantly: an
airplane crash had wiped it off the TV screens.
Slowly he forced himself to take on a semblance of
life. He hired a lawn maintenance crew so his
neighbours on the street wouldn't freak out at the
condition of his yard. He tried to keep his hours at
the office to his normal ones, still long but no longer
By summer's end, all but seven of the bodies had been
identified. And Scully felt that they might never be.
The Smoker aka CGB Spender and several of his
associates had been arrested for their involvement with
the Consortium. The war between the rebel aliens and
the aliens had moved on to other places.
In all that time, Skinner had kept to the belief that
if he were alive, Krycek would somehow contact him.
Six months after the burnt bodies had been found, he
gave up that hope. He had asked Mulder if he had any
kind of lead on Krycek, who, it turned out, had
supplied Mulder with a great deal of information. But
none since the burning.
The night of his forty-ninth birthday, he spent alone
in his darkened living room, drunk, finally forcing
himself to accept that Krycek was probably one of those
bodies that was ash.
He became more taciturn, colder at work. People became
very wary of approaching him, afraid of being cut to
ribbons by his tongue. He suffered fools even less
gladly than he had ever done.
He lost weight, had trouble sleeping. Brought work
home with him so he would have something to do besides
Dreamt far too much of a one-armed man whom he couldn't
even mourn publicly.
The doorbell rang.
Even though it was Hallowe'en, and the neighbourhood
was filled with kids of all ages, only the stalwart
ones, or the ones dared by their friends, had rung his
doorbell. He hadn't prepared for the evening, hadn't
really been aware of what this was other than another
He answered the door anyway. Why not? It would only
add to his reputation as the bete-noire of the
There were two little girls on his stoop. He
recognized them as the one who lived next door and her
friend from down the street. They had to be best
friends as he had never seen one without the other.
He said nothing. Just waited. His neighbour with the
glasses was dressed as some bespectacled witch, her
friend as a vampire.
They looked at him with trepidation.
"The man asked us to give you this note." The witch
handed him a chocolate bar wrapper.
"The writing's on the inside," said the vampire.
And they ran around the dividing fence to the witch's
Skinner held the piece of paper in his hand, opened it
to the inside.
Please, may I come in?
Skinner shook his head to clear it, read the paper
again. Realized that he knew the handwriting: had
seen it once before on another note that had
accompanied a tape.
He looked up. In his front yard was an old black
walnut tree. The trunk seemed to separate and a shadow
moved away from it.
He stopped breathing as a ghost approached the stoop
and stood just within the circle of light from the open
He was thinner, his face more feral, his eyes almost
black in the scant light. He wore that ubiquitous
black leather jacket of his. His hair was pulled back.
There was a new scar just under his right eye. He
Skinner stared, not really believing his eyes.
"You're dead," he whispered.
"Not yet." Alex Krycek was surprised by the changes he
saw in the man in front of him. What the hell was
wrong with Skinner? He looked like a man who had been
Skinner backed in. Krycek followed him.
Krycek closed the door, went into what had to be the
living room. Skinner was pouring himself a stiff
drink. Gulped a good portion of it down. Turned to
face the man who stood in the doorway.
What does one say to a ghost?
So he hit him, hard, with the flat of his hand, across
Krycek was taken totally by surprise. The force of the
blow knocked him to the floor. Before he had time to
protect himself, Skinner had him by the front of his
jacket, hauled him up, and slammed him against the
"You fucking bastard!" Skinner was white, his voice
quivering with anger. So angry that all he could say,
over and over, was "You fucking bastard!" as he slammed
Krycek against the wall yet again.
Krycek got his hand up, tried to push Skinner away from
him. This wasn't the welcome he had so anticipated.
He raised his knee sharply to groin the man, hard.
Skinner turned to catch the knee on his thigh.
Released him enough so that Krycek could twist out of
the hold he had on him. He tried to make for the door,
but Skinner dropped his weight onto his back and they
both went down.
Krycek landed hard on a leg that was still recovering
from a bullet. Skinner landed hard on him, knocking
the breath out of both of them. For a moment the world
spun out of control.
Skinner had heard the grunt of pain that had preceded
the sharp exhalation of air. In spite of everything,
he felt concern begin to override his shock. He rolled
off Krycek, but kept him confined on the floor,
prosthesis under his chest, right wrist clamped to the
ground, one leg over Krycek's to keep him pinned down.
Waited for Krycek to catch his breath.
"All you had to do was tell me no," the man gasped.
"I thought you were dead. I thought that if you were
alive you would contact me somehow, let me know."
Skinner took a deep breath. With all the pain, the
loss he had felt over the months, "Why didn't you
Krycek looked into a face that was etched with pain.
He stopped struggling. "I never thought of it," he
"You never...Jesus! Alex! What did you think it would
do to me, looking at those piles of ashes week in week
out, and not knowing which one was you? I thought
we...God knows what I thought...Christ! I am such a
He rolled off Krycek, releasing him. Lay on his
stomach, head buried in crossed arms. Disgusted with
himself, for believing they actually had something.
Krycek sat up carefully, looking at the man lying next
to him, in obvious pain.
He reached out his hand and gingerly rested it on
Skinner's shoulder. Skinner flinched. He pulled it
"Walter. Are you saying it mattered? That you..." He
got no response from the other. He tried again, not
sure where he was going, suddenly only knowing that he
was on the verge of losing something he wanted badly.
"Walter. No one's ever cared enough about me to...I
mean, why would you...Ah, shit! I didn't know..." He
hugged his legs up close to his chest, hurting and not
knowing what to do about it.
He'd had dreams about the time they had spent together.
They'd gotten him through some tight times in the last
months. But he'd been smart enough to know that's all
they were: dreams. And yet now...
"There are seven bodies that Scully thinks will never
be identified. Mulder knew some of the ones we did
identify. Knew that you worked with them. It made
sense that you'd be there."
Skinner paused to control the trembling in his voice.
"Mulder says he hasn't had any contact with you since
the burnings. It was as if you'd disappeared off the
face of the earth. What else was I supposed to think?"
Krycek was still working his way around the fact that
he had meant something to Skinner. That he had
probably destroyed whatever that something was.
Desolate, he moved slowly to his feet, hurting more
than he thought he could bear. He had to get out of
here, before he dropped to his knees and begged Skinner
to give him another chance. He'd blown it, and hadn't
even known until it was too late.
"Alex. Where were you?" Skinner raised his head,
looked up into a face as ravaged as his own.
"Tying up loose ends." He owed Skinner that much at
least. "The Consortium had cells in other places. The
rebels needed a human front to deal with them, and they
decided I was it."
He made it to his feet. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I
never meant to."
"Alex, I can't take this coming and going. It rips my
Krycek absorbed pain like a body-blow. He rested his
forehead on the door, put his hand on the latch. "You
won't see me again. I promise."
"Where are you going now?" Skinner sat up.
"Does it matter?"
"Alex, why did you come here tonight?"
Krycek made a sound that could have been a laugh.
"Would you believe it, I was coming to ask you to let
me stay for a while. Until you got bored with me."
Skinner got to his feet. Went to stand behind his
lover. "That might be a long way down the line. Are
you sure you can stay that long? Because, Alex, that's
the only way you can stay. If it's for the long run."
Alex turned around. Walter saw the hunger in Alex's
face, reached out and pulled him into his arms.
They stood by the door, just holding onto each other
for dear life. Tightly, almost painfully.
"You ever leave again," Walter rubbed his face against
Alex's hair, "I'll track you down and pound the shit
out of you. You got that?"
"Yeah." Whispered, but with hope.
There were things they had to talk about, to clear the
air. The past had to be dealt with before they could
try for a future.
It was late and they were both exhausted before they
found their way upstairs to the bedroom. They barely
had the energy to undress, slip between the sheets and
wrap themselves around the other.
And it was late when Walter woke to find a pair of
green eyes watching him. "You been awake long?"
Alex shook his head. "No. Not really." Then, because
he was still insecure about all this, "Walter, are you
sure about this? About me staying? Here, I mean. In
Walter tilted his head back, the better to see Alex's
face. "Bored already?"
Alex tried again. "No. But, shit, Walter, you're an
assistant director. Living openly with a man isn't
going to do your career much good. And living with
Walter placed his hands on either side of Alex's face,
pulled him down for a heart-felt kiss. Held him close.
"Life in the suburbs won't be so bad, Alex. Of course,
you will have to give up killing, extortion, all that
stuff you're so good at."
"Walt, I'm serious."
"I know. I know. But we live in 'Don't ask. Don't
tell.' And I'm sure we won't be the first male couple
in this neck of the woods. As for my career, well, I
was never meant for the top floor. And I rather like
keeping my hand in the field." He smiled. "Stop
worrying about that."
But Alex was uneasy. "Walter..."
"If you have to worry, Alex, worry instead about what
I'm going to do to you."
Alex thought a moment. "That sounds rather like a
Walter rolled over so that Alex lay flat on the bed.
He stroked his foot over the leg closest to him, ending
up with his foot anchoring Alex's ankle. At the same
time, his right hand slipped up the length of his arm,
pulling it up so that he could imprison it against the
He took his time checking out the body now spread out
for his inspection. There were a few new scars. Some
not too important. A couple that made him happy he
hadn't been around when they had been added to Alex's
Alex lay passive, waiting for Walter's next move. He
felt anticipation mingled with a little wariness. He
wasn't used to letting himself be examined this way.
Walter's eyes finally came to find his.
"Not a threat. A promise.
"I promise that, after we've showered, after we've had
breakfast, I'm going to drag you back to this bed. I'm
going to taste every inch of your body with my mouth.
Lick it. Bite it."
Alex's eyes opened wide, a hint of pleasure already
appearing in them.
"I'll find all your pulse points and suck my mark on
you. Shape your collar bone with my teeth. Bite the
soft skin of your underarms, the inside of your elbow,
the back of your knees."
Alex made a soft groan, ran his tongue over his lips,
his mind already reacting to the images that Walter was
providing. Even his cock was appreciative.
"I'm going to play with your nipples till they're so
tender that when I blow on them you're going to scream.
I'm going to tease your skin with my mouth, my
fingertips, my nails so that you can't think."
Alex moaned, tried, but more as a token, to pull out of
Walter's grasp. His cock was hardening from the mere
thought of what Walter was promising. God! It had
been so long! No one since their last time together.
"Then when I finally get around to your cock..."
"Jesus, Walter. Touch me!"
Walter grinned. His own cock was also reacting to his
scenario, but he wanted to wait, to see what would
happen. "When I finally get around to your cock, all
I'm going to do is take the tip, just the tip, Alex,
into my mouth. Just to get a taste of pre-come. I'll
play with it, dip the tip on my tongue into the slit,
suck. See if I can make you come just like that."
Alex's breathing had deepened, his eyes closed. He was
biting his lower lip. His hips arched in invitation.
Walter's voice had hoarsened: he was catching himself
in his own web.
"I'm going to take your balls, one then the other, into
my mouth, warm them up, play my tongue on them. I'll
lube my hand, stroke my finger up from your balls to
your asshole. Tease it with my finger tip. In a bit,
out, around and again and again till it twitches. Till
you open up for me. My finger will go in so slowly
you'll want to thrust back, so I'll have to hold you
down somehow. Because I'm the one who's deciding how
deep I'm in. And when I go in further. And if it's
one finger. Or two. Maybe even three.
"How hard that will be, only you know. How long since
you've been stretched out that way? Will it burn?
Will it feel so good that you'll beg me to fuck you
with my cock?"
Alex's erection was deepening in colour, his hips
writhing for contact of some kind. Walter knew that
Alex could have, at any time, pulled out of his grasp,
if he had really wanted to. Knew that he would have
allowed him to. But he lay there, enjoying his
passivity. Revelling in having his mind fucked, having
his body respond.
Walter's own erection was demanding attention. He
ignored it, watching Alex's body flush, feeling his own
"Then, maybe, if you ask nicely enough, I'll fuck you.
I'll pull your legs up over my shoulders. I'll
position myself against that lovely asshole of yours
and slowly, so slowly it'll make you crazy, I'll push
in, till my balls are squeezed against your ass. In so
tight that there'll be no room between us for even a
breath of air.
"Would you like that, Alex, if I took you that way?"
Alex had enough of the teasing. He twisted suddenly,
taking Walter a bit by surprise. He pulled away,
jerking his body so that he sat up over his now
"You fucking cock teaser!" he snarled. He dropped his
mouth to Walter's cock, taking it into his mouth.
Unlike Walter's scenario, he sucked on it hard, taking
as much of it into his mouth into his throat as he
Walter grunted, raised his hips to allow Alex easier
access. Caught by the images he had used to arouse
Alex, he found himself as ready as his "victim".
Unfortunately, there was nothing in the room by way of
necessities. He was no longer expecting Alex, so there
were no condoms, no lube in the drawer by the bed.
That didn't deter Alex. When he was sure that Walter's
cock was well slicked with his saliva, he positioned
himself over his lover's erection and dropped his ass
to absorb it.
Walter moaned aloud. Alex gasped at the initial pain:
he had gone too quickly and it had been some time.
They both took a moment to adjust. Walter raised his
left knee so Alex could use it as support as the man
Now that Alex had what he wanted, Walter's cock in him,
he took his time. Clenching his muscles, milking the
feeling of being filled.
Walter's hand, wet with his spit, with pre-come, worked
Alex's cock in the same rhythm. He kept his eyes open,
wondering at the beauty of the man above him, head
thrown back, throat exposed, eyes closed in
appreciation and concentration.
Walter's orgasm threw Alex into his own completion.
They lay, still joined, listening to each other's
heartbeats return to normal. Arms wrapped around each
Walter moved just enough to slip out of Alex who
grunted a bit at the feeling.
He kissed the side of his lover's head. Against his
temple, he whispered, "Welcome home, Alex."
End of Part 5