The Deal. An XFiles adventure by Glacis, starring all our favorites, including (and featuring) Ratboy. I don't own any of them, of course, but if I'm sued all they'll get is debts. Story is rated NC17 ( violence and nasty language) and includes graphic depictions of sex so if you're a minor don't read it or I'll have to destroy your computer.

He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe, for once, something was going to turn out right. Ever since the double crossing son of a bitch had tried to blow him to kingdom come he'd been running, reacting, twitching at every sound. But now he had a plan. And the bait to set it all in motion had just walked in to his sights.

Mulder looked preoccupied, worried, stressed. Typical, in fact. Maybe a little paler, a bit more tired, than usual, but still there ... still perfect for his needs. He tracked his prey across the street, through the park and over to the apartment building. Waiting until enough time had elapsed to be sure that Mulder was safely in, he passed as silently as a shadow through the side alley and into the back entry, making certain to remain unseen. As he ran lightly up the stairwell, he mentally calculated the odds. It was almost eleven, there were few people out on the streets this late. He should be able to pull it off and get out unseen. On the other hand, if there was a witness, his nine millimeter had a silencer. And the trank darts were strong enough to stop a mountain lion. One FBI agent, no matter how paranoid, shouldn't be a challenge.

He rested outside the anonymous door, regulating his breathing in a manner that was second nature by now, listening intently to the muffled television noises, the rumble of the answering machine, the muted gurgle of the fish tank. One shuffling thunk, then another, as the shoes were kicked off. A short click and tiny rush of air as the tab was pulled on a drink, then the silence of a tired man after a long day at a difficult job. He counted down, twenty, nineteen, taking his time, doing it right. No more messups. He couldn't afford them. No partners now to shoot the wrong person, whether his or Mulder's. No witnesses. It was too damned important. Wouldn't do to break the door in ... not enough time, and too many ears along the corridor.

At the end of his countdown, he scratched, lightly as a cat, then scratched again. The timbre of the silence changed, from relaxed to alert, and the footfalls toward the door were soft and wary. He was unaware of the smile playing about his lips as he ducked slightly, pushing the blank envelope he had brought along against the bottom edge of the door. A pause, then the slightest hint of rustling cloth, as his target bent to peer under the door, seeing the deliberately blocked light, misunderstanding the reason, thinking it was a clue in his never-ending quest, when in actuality it was--

The door opened a crack. A strong hand shoved quickly, forcefully, startling Mulder. Before he could raise his gun, the other man's gun spat once. He clutched at the dart buried in his stomach, fought the conflicting urges to faint and to attack, and swayed as the room began to tilt. His dark haired assailant pushed him none too gently back into the living room and shut the door.

It was bait in the trap. To trap the bait. Alex Krycek smiled gently and leaned forward to catch Mulder as the world went black.

His eyes were swimming. And his stomach hurt. And he couldn't move his arms. Hell of a way to wake up ... he must've fallen asleep at a really weird angle on the couch to have such a neck ache... Gradually, the realization filtered through Fox Mulder's mind that something was -- not quite right. The first thing that registered was the fact that he was naked. And he didn't usually sleep naked. One never knew when the MIBs would break into the apartment and take one for a 'little ride', and being nude when that happened was just too humiliating to even consider. Then there was the distinct sensation of carpet fibers pressing against his side and legs. Last time he'd checked, his couch had not been upholstered with shag carpet. Finally, there was the undeniable fact that his arms weren't asleep. They were bound. By metal. He was handcuffed to something, but his eyes weren't cooperating and he couldn't quite focus on his surroundings. And he was very much afraid that any minute now he was going to throw up. Not a good way to wake up.

Sunlight filtered through a tiny window set high into the wall, casting swaying shadows on the sparsely furnished room. A small table, a single chair, and two wrought iron bars set into the wall... he forced himself to assess his surroundings, trying to remain professional, and trying to think of anything other than the nearly overpowering urge to vomit. Whatever the hell had been in that dart had been strong enough to set his system spinning. He pulled himself painfully to a seated position and continued to scan the room. The ridges on the wall behind him, and the approximate six foot separation of the iron bars made him think that at one time they had been the endpieces of a bookcase built into the wall. Now, they made a very effective prison. He eyed the chain binding his wrists to one bar and his left ankle to the other, mentally trying to find a way out. Nothing was immediately apparent.

A rat in a trap. Alex grinned nastily to himself at the description, then let himself into the room, making no effort at stealth. Mulder's head swung away from his rapt contemplation of his ankle chain, a little too quickly to judge by the suddenly green hue of his face. As he fought valiantly to control his stomach, Krycek settled into the lone chair and regarded him with mock sympathy.

"Poor Fox. Got his leg in a trap and his tummy doesn't feel too good, either, now does it?" Mulder suppressed a growl, keeping his teeth clenched against the nausea, and he laughed softly. "It'll pass pretty soon, Mulder. There wasn't anything toxic in it," he reassured him with touching, if utterly false, concern, "and the effects are relatively fast to dissipate."

Mulder tried to ignore the fact that one, he hated this man more than any other single individual on the face of the earth with the possible exception of Cancerman, and two, he was unable to rip his throat out like he really wanted to because he was chained naked to a wall. He forced himself to face his nemesis, chanting "His day will come" silently to himself like a mantra against his own helplessness. Eventually, he calmed down enough to be able to watch his former partner with something close to his usual equanimity.

Alex stared back at him measuringly. When he was certain that Mulder had calmed enough to listen to him, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and pinning Mulder with an intensely serious gaze.

"I have a proposition."

"Fuck you!" So much for equanimity.

"Maybe later, if you're lucky." He enjoyed the dumbstruck look on Mulder's face for a split second before continuing with his proposal. "I have something you want. You have something I want. Or, actually, you and your friends have something I want. Are you willing to listen?"

Mulder stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Whatever you have, Krycek, I'm not buying. You can go straight to hell."

"Probably," Alex returned with a wry half smile. "But I don't want to go alone. And with your help, I won't."

This time he couldn't restrain the growl. "I don't trust you and I sure as hell am not going to help you!"

Krycek gave him that same measuring look, then smiled. It was not a reassuring sight.

"Yes. You will." He arose from the chair and walked to the door. Pausing to shoot Mulder a last glance, he smiled again. "You will."

Mulder narrowed his eyes at the closed door, then swept a searching glance over the walls. He didn't see any obvious monitoring devices, and he didn't want to waste any time. He had to get the hell out of there, before Alex came back and dragged him further into his little game.

Krycek had to admit, he hadn't expected Mulder to recover quite so fast. Watching the determined agent through the concealed camera in the table front, he winced as he saw him open yet another slice on his wrist with the edge of his cuff. Mulder had managed to wedge the side of his cuff under the edge of one of the iron posts, digging into the plaster of the wall in an attempt to loosen the bar and slip his chain free. Unfortunately, this put the hard edge of the cuff cutting directly into the soft skin on his wrists and the blood was starting to flow freely. Alex sighed, and gathered up a stocked medical kit. If he was going to persuade Skinner and Scully to help him, he had to make sure the bait was in good shape. They probably wouldn't be too cooperative if Mulder effectively slit his own wrists and bled to death before they could even figure out where he was being held captive.

Mulder froze as the door drew open again, and Krycek stalked into the room. Dropping a bulky box on the floor a few feet away, Krycek came to within striking distance of Mulder and glared at him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, you damned moron?" Mulder was feeling a little light headed with the remnants of the drug in his system, compounded by the blood loss, and his grip on his temper was nonexistent.

"And if you did manage to pry yourself loose?" Alex inquired, dropping into a comfortable seat on the carpet and regarding Mulder quizzically. "In case you haven't noticed, you're half stoned, your leg is still chained to the wall, and you're stark naked."

Mulder glared woozily at him, then shook his head to clear the last bits of fuzziness from his brain. "I'd rather take my chances naked in a fucking snowstorm than in here with you, Krycek."

"I was afraid you'd say that," he sighed. "You know, if you'd just listen to what I have to say--"

Before he had the chance to finish the remark, Mulder pushed out with all his strength, succeeding in pulling the bar away from the weakened plaster. Before Krycek could react, he swung his fists together in a modified hammering blow, catching the other man across the face and opening up a gash in his cheek with the swinging chain. Alex reacted immediately, with an uppercut that slammed Mulder back against the wall, stunning him. With no wasted motion, Alex pulled Mulder's arms high above his head, all the weight of his body now on his shoulders, and clipped the chain to one of the curled hooks in the design of the wrought iron. Backing away and lifting a hand to his burning cheek, he regarded the writhing figure in front of him with mingled respect and hatred.

The things he had to do to stay alive.

Every time he tried to pull himself up, to take some of the strain from his burning shoulders, the cuffs would bite deeper into the cuts on his wrists, He tried to use his hands on the chains, but his fingers slipped on the links, slick with his blood. When he thought that his hands were completely numb and he really would have to start screaming very soon, the damnable door opened again.

Krycek had taken the time to clean his own cut cheek, small butterfly bandages holding it closed. He watched Mulder's face as he approached, readily admitting to himself that the undoubted agony on the face of the troublesome bastard made him feel much better. Stopping to pick up the medkit on his way, he yanked roughly at the chain, dislodging it from the hook. Mulder was unable to muffle his cry of pain as his deadened arms clattered against his midsection, instinctively curling up to protect his groin from the swinging chain. Krycek knelt beside him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

"You really are a pain in the ass, you know." His matter-of-fact tone cut through the haze of pain in Mulder's head, and the agent opened his eyes to see Krycek calmly preparing a syringe full of clear liquid. As he shot a drop from the end of the needle, clearing any air bubbles, he regarded Mulder thoughtfully. "Guess you'll just have to hear my proposition when the others do. Until then, this should make you a little more ... manageable."

Before he could formulate the question, Mulder felt the tiny sting of the needle biting into his bicep, then things went a little strange. Alex watched the normally intense hazel eyes lose focus, the harsh, angry features soften, and reached for the kit. Applying salve to the cuts on Mulder's wrists, he watched his captive thoughtfully. While this particular combination of drugs wouldn't put him out, it would render him pliable and open to suggestion. As he gently worked the medicated cream into the soft skin, cleaning up the lacerations, he let his mind wander. Now might be the best time to plant some ideas. The others should be getting his messages soon, and when they did, he had to be ready.

Krycek's fingers gradually slowed as the warmth of his skin was transferred via the medicated cream into Mulder's cold wrists. The pins and needles must have hurt, but thanks to the concoction he'd injected into his captive, Mulder didn't appear to be in any pain. As the feeling returned in his hands, Mulder made an abortive attempt to pull them from Alex's grasp, but his muscles refused to cooperate. There was a delicious lassitude creeping through him, muting the frantic voice in his mind that was screaming for him to escape, to run, to resist. Other sensations were also permeating his body, and he was unable to mask them in his current state of undress. The warning voice fell mute, horrified by his body's response, and dreading the moment when Krycek would realize what the slow movements of hands on bare skin were doing to his nervous system.

Alex rotated his fingers gently on the bruised and raw flesh of Mulder's wrists and arms, trying to frame his proposition in the most persuasive manner he could while still making it simple enough for Mulder to grasp the essentials, as drugged up as he was. His distracted gaze drifted down to his hands, satisfied with the effects of his ministrations, and he carefully unlocked the chains from Mulder's arms. There was no way the agent would be able to escape. While he was conscious, he was far from capable. As the chains fell away, he gathered them into a small pile to the side of Mulder's hips, bending over the other man's torso to push them against the wall. As he straightened, he noticed what the chain had been camouflaging. One of the drugs in his own particular devil's brew was a stimulant, to keep vital signs strong, and sometimes it acted as an aphrodisiac. From the look of Mulder's erection, this was one of those times.

"I had no idea you were so sensitive to drugs, *Fox*." Alex almost laughed, especially when he saw the mixture of embarrassment, rage and arousal in Mulder's glare. "Looks like later may be now, hm?"

With a wicked smile, keeping his eyes locked to Mulder's all the while, he slowly reached out and began to trace his fingertips along the semi- rigid flesh. Mulder reacted with an involuntary moan, his eyes shutting from either humiliation or denial, Alex wasn't sure which. Maybe both. As his own breath began to quicken, he shelved plans for trying to persuade the recalcitrant agent to join him in his proposition. There would be time for that, later. Right now, under his hands, was the only chance he'd ever get at fucking Fox Mulder. And he planned to make the most of it.

Mulder's hips were pushing lazily up toward Krycek's stroking hand, the lethargic movements gradually gaining strength as Krycek began stroking his chest with his free hand. His mouth fell slightly open, breathing coming in irregular gasps, as he tried to fight his arousal. Krycek leaned closer, caught up in the unwillingly wanton responses of the man under his curious hands. By now, Mulder's erection was straining against his palm, as Alex feathered delicate caresses over the slick skin of his chest. Stopping to scratch lightly over a nipple, he was delighted by the moan the caress evoked, and repeated it several times, alternating from one tight bud to the other. As he was continuing this delicious torture, his other hand roamed freely, circling the sensitive head of Mulder's penis, thumbing the crease along the top then tracing the veins along the shaft until he could roll his balls in the soft sac, eliciting one moan after another until Mulder was almost whimpering continuously.

The beleaguered agent finally managed to get his arms to cooperate, after a fashion, drawing them up and placing them against Krycek's chest, fully intending to push him away. The heat of his skin through the thin cotton shirt seemed to give his hands other ideas, however, and Krycek felt another pulse of arousal when Mulder's hands slid slowly up his chest to rest heavily at the sides of his neck. Taking it as encouragement, whether it had been or not, he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, careful not to dislodge Mulder's unsteady grip. As he backed away to unfasten his jeans, Mulder's hands slipped, the friction as his fingertips grazed lightly through his chest hair sending shivers up his spine. Sacrificing gentle exploration for the sake of speed and his own straining erection, he stripped off the rest of his clothing in near record time and moved back over Mulder's supine form.

As Alex began firmly caressing every inch of silky skin that he could reach, some part of Mulder's mind was watching in an odd mix of revulsion and unadulterated lust. He wanted to pull away, or at least protest, but his mind was awash with the drugs and the unusual sensations running over his body. With a mental shrug, he gave up the fight, his natural curiosity getting the better of him. The small part of his mind that was still relatively coherent sat in the corner and screamed with rage, while the rest of his being concentrated on the incredible sensation of Alex Krycek going down on him.

Krycek followed the path his hands had taken with his lips, teeth, tongue. Mulder tasted sweet and salty, tiny drops of pre-cum wetting his penis and sparkling in the soft dark curls scattered across his groin. Mixing with Krycek's saliva, it caused an almost unbearably erotic sensation as Alex slid his mouth over and around Mulder, stopping to nibble the tender flesh at the crown, nipping and soothing to the root, rolling first one testicle then the other into his hungry mouth, massaging the tender skin with the side of his tongue, engulfing as much of his cock as he could take and then humming deep in his throat. The pressure built until Mulder's head was swimming, and with an inarticulate cry his hips bucked, once, twice, three times. Alex drew back with one final pull, containing Mulder's climax the best he could, gathering the semen into his hands.

Before Mulder could catch his breath, the effects of his climax multiplied in his mind by the lingering effects of the drug, Alex abruptly rolled him over onto his stomach. He spread Mulder's cum thickly along the damp crease of the agent's ass, probing with first one, then two slender fingers at the small ring of muscle. Mulder tried to tense, the outraged corner of his mind protesting a little more loudly, when Krycek angled his fingertips to scrape lightly across Mulder's prostate. His scream caught them both by surprise, and after one instinctive clench, he released his hold on Alex's fingers. As he was trying to catch his breath from that unexpected jolt, he felt the blunt tip of Krycek's penis begin to work it's way deeply into his ass.

Krycek caught his breath as he carefully pushed his way in, pausing to allow Mulder a chance to adjust and to catch his own breath. The sensation was incredible, so hot, and so tight, like a velvet fist squeezing his cock. When he finally worked his entire length in, he paused, resting his sweaty chest against Mulder's broad back. Mulder whimpered slightly, but made no other move, and Krycek slid one hand slowly around Mulder's hip, searching for his penis. Mulder was already erect again, and Alex commenced a gentle rocking rhythm, stroking Mulder's length in concert with his own thrusts. The combined sensations overpowered Mulder, and with another scream that sounded suspiciously like a sob, he came again.

The rippling effect of his climax worked his internal muscles and he milked Krycek until, with a scream of his own, the other man came explosively, clutching Mulder's twitching penis and biting and sucking at the side of his neck. Mulder's hands worked convulsively on the carpet, whether trying to grab hold or push away, he couldn't have said. With one final convulsion, Krycek wrung one last jolt of semen from him, and he felt consciousness slip away. Alex felt the tense body underneath his own relax, and slowly withdrew, gasping from the release of pressure. He rolled Mulder over and checked his pulse, then leaned close to him. Ascertaining that he was indeed unconscious, he opened his mouth over Mulder's in a deep, wet kiss, plundering that full lower lip and taking the liberties he couldn't when the other man was awake and aware. Finally satiated, he drew clean towels from the kit at their feet and cleaned up the evidence of their activities. There was nothing he could do about the bite marks, true, but perhaps by the time Skinner and Scully arrived, they would have faded.

Of course, if they hadn't, that was just too damned bad.

She didn't like this. Didn't like it at all. The surprisingly light step of Director Skinner behind her should have reassured her, but it didn't. The fact that Alex Krycek had called him directly should have made her a little more confident. It didn't. All she could see was Melissa's still face, her mother's devastated eyes. Mulder, numb, and his mother, shattered. The desperate plea in her partner's face as he begged her to let him kill the rat bastard. Why hadn't she? Yeah. To keep Mulder from a murder charge. But maybe they could have beaten it. And maybe, just maybe, Missy would still be alive.

On the other hand, maybe not. That black lunged son of a bitch probably had a whole damned army of killers. Krycek was just her own personal nightmare. And Mulder's. Mustn't forget that ... and had to pray that he was still alive.

The light came on suddenly, blinding them both, They froze in identical crouches, and Alex Krycek's voice came at them from the whiteness, seeming by auditory illusion to be coming from every direction at once.

"Drop your weapons."

She risked a glance back at Skinner, hating the feeling of being pinned. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and she gingerly lowered her gun to the floor. If nothing else, she did still have the leg holster under her trousers. Like Mulder, she also got tired of losing her gun.

"I don't want to hurt you," the disembodied voice continued, "and I don't want you to hurt me."

"What do you want, Krycek?" Walter Skinner's voice sounded unusually loud, and incredibly cold. While he wouldn't admit it, except perhaps under torture, he had an almost paternal interest in Agents Mulder and Scully, and these mind games put them in jeopardy. They also pissed him off no end. He gradually straightened, and Scully followed his cue, squinting against the light.

"I want ... a truce."

Scully and Skinner exchanged incredulous glances.

"And we're supposed to trust you?" Dana was trying very hard to maintain her composure. "You kidnapped my partner. You beat up my boss." She didn't notice Skinner's involuntary wince. "You killed Mulder's father, you helped someone abduct me for God only knows what kind of heinous experiments, and you killed my sister!!" Her voice rose slightly with each word. Skinner reached out a restraining hand, and she took a deep gulp of air, trying to stop her body from shaking. Swallowing dryly, she tried again. "Why in Heaven's name should we trust you?"

There was a short silence, then a soft reply. "You have no choice."

Skinner felt his gorge rise, but managed to keep his anger from showing in his expression. Scully wasn't quite as adept. Her skin flushed until her features nearly matched her hair, and the two men could almost see sparks flying from her hair. Krycek finally stepped from the side of the building into the light. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he inclined his head.

"You don't have to trust me. I have something you want, and you have something I want. Straight trade. I want to cut a deal." He didn't smile, but his expression lightened. "And, for once, we both want the same thing."

"What's that, Krycek?" Scully was glad Skinner had asked the question. She didn't trust her own voice.

"Well, as to what we have ... I have Mulder. He's the bargaining chip, the bait to get you to come out here and listen to me." He put out a hand in a stopping motion at Scully's involuntary movement toward him. "He's all right." He paused, and she tried to decipher his expression, but couldn't. What the hell had he done with Mulder, she thought somewhat frantically. She couldn't lose him, too. He continued smoothly, "All I need is breathing space."

"For what?" That was her boss. Direct and to the point. Alex seemed to appreciate it as well.

"I'm working on payback here, trying to save my own ass. Cancerman screwed me, made the mistake of double-crossing me. He's on my ass now, and I need to know that when I take out the bastards that come after me, I'm only taking out his men. They'll be enough to handle. I don't want to have to deal with another fucking vendetta with your people."

In other words, Scully mused dully, no vengeance for Missy. For Bill Mulder. For me. For an instant, she allowed all of the hatred she felt for this man to shine from her eyes, and he took a small step backward, as if her enmity had actually slapped him. She smiled coldly at the cut on his face, evidence that Mulder had not gone quietly, then turned to face Director Skinner. He looked back at her calmly. This was her call. Her partner, her family, her life ... her choice. She nodded, once, sharply, before she could dwell on all the ramifications of her agreement.

"But not forever, you bastard," she hissed across the room at the still dark figure of Krycek. "When you've dealt with him, then you will deal with me."

He nodded his agreement, understanding everything she didn't say, then tossed something shiny at her feet. She knelt slowly and picked it up, her eyes never leaving him. He stepped back in to the shadows and the lights abruptly went out, leaving an afterimage of whiteness that resolved itself slowly into the shadows of the dimly lit warehouse. She scooped up her weapon and took the object over to a nearby window, turning it over in her hand, trying to read the writing on the small tag attached to a new, clean cut key. Finally deciphering the writing, she glanced over to Skinner.

"It's a storage unit in the Parkway. I know where it's at."

He nodded and followed her to her car.

As they sped toward the unit, she prayed that Krycek would actually keep his word, and not harm her partner. Skinner didn't say a word, letting her concentrate on her driving, forming and rejecting possibilities if this rescue started to blow up in their faces. As they drew near the storage units, she cut the lights and they silently exited the car.

He came around the corner high, and she came in low, but there was no one to ambush them there. With one quick look, Skinner nodded her on, and covered her back as she deftly flicked the lock. He pulled back on the heavy door and she bolted around the corner, keeping herself low to the ground to offer the smallest possible target. For no reason, because the small room contained no threat, just Mulder. Unconscious, Hands tied behind him. Dressed in soaked sweatpants and a ragged tee shirt. Skinner kept lookout while Scully quickly checked his vital signs and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Whatever Krycek gave him, it doesn't appear to be affecting his vitals. We'll have to get him to a hospital and get him checked out, though." Skinner nodded agreement and helped her wrestle her ungainly burden out to the car.

It was almost twelve hours before Mulder regained consciousness. The combination of drugs Krycek had used on him did no permanent damage, but did leave his memory hazy.

"Do you remember anything about where he held you, Agent Mulder?" There was no impatience in Director Skinner's tone, but since it was the fifth time he'd asked the question, there was some irritation in Mulder's reply.

"No, sir. I don't. He hit me with some sort of tranquilizer dart, then when I came to, he shot me up with a nice little mixture of his own. After that," his voice faded uncertainly, and Dana was convinced there was something he was not telling them. "... it all gets really fuzzy."

Skinner nodded acceptance, then sighed. "Well, he did keep his part of the bargain. I suppose."

"And we'll keep ours," Scully's voice was hard. "Until Cancerman is ... taken care of."

Skinner looked at her for a long moment, then turned to Mulder. "Get some rest, Agent Mulder." Turning on his heel, he started for the door.

"Sir?" Mulder's raspy question stopped him. "Thank you."

Skinner tightened his lips, then nodded once, and left the room. Dana watched him leave, then turned to her partner.

"What didn't you tell him, Mulder?"

He studied his hands for an endless moment, absently tracing the healing lacerations from the cuffs he'd been chained in. Finally he met her concerned gaze.

"Just ... a nightmare, Scully. Nothing unusual."

She accepted his quiet answer, determined not to pry if he wasn't ready. She reached across the hospital bed and laid a hand lightly on his bruised wrist. He rested his eyes on the small hand covering the marks of his abduction, and gave her a half smile. One day, though, she would know. One more mark against Alex Krycek, one more debt for him to pay. Once this truce was over, then all the markers would come due. And when their deal with the devil was over, she would make sure he paid.

the end (at least until Dana catches Alex in a dark alley with no witnesses...)