Krychek. by Glacis. Rated R for violence and sexual situations. Includes graphic portrayals of homosexual sex and violent death. No copyright infringement is intended. note: written before the character was named onscreen

The bullet barely missed her skull, whistling as it passed her cheek. The next instant, a solid male body, much larger than her own, hit her sideways and landed on top of her. Muffled by his bulk, she could hear the exchange of fire, the thump thump of bullets striking flesh, the harder slump of bodies hitting the pavement. Scully reached up to push him off of her, trying to see what was happening, make sure they were out of danger. Mulder gasped sharply when she pushed at his chest, and she stopped immediately, guessing from his reaction that he'd taken a hit.

The silence was uncanny, after so much noise. People didn't realize how loud gunfire was, until they were pinned in a crossfire, unable to move, unable to escape. Wriggling until she could peek out over his shoulder without lifting him into possible danger, she saw the sheriff holster his weapon and walk over to kneel by the body of the suspect. The body wasn't moving.

Her mind kicked into gear, and she gently rolled Mulder off of her, settling his unconscious body gently into a reclining position and efficiently ripping open his shirt to ascertain the extent of the damage. A swift, cursory examination determined that the bullet had passed neatly through his shoulder, below the collarbone, and no bones appeared to be broken, although he was bleeding heavily. That wouldn't account for the loss of consciousness, though. Wishing vainly for more light, she carefully examined his head with her fingertips, finding the small lump at his temple and the gash sluggishly bleeding over her hand. He must have cracked his head when he tackled her. She sighed. It was a good thing her partner was so hard headed. With the number of times he ended up knocking himself out, he could be in serious trouble if-

His hand shot up, catching hers by the wrist and forcing it down. She stared at him for a moment, startled by the action and the wild look in his eyes, then murmered reassuringly, "Mulder, it's me, Scully, you're okay. It's just a slight head wound, but you've been shot. You need to go to the hospital."

He looked at the petite redhead who had been touching his head so gently and narrowed his eyes. Shot? What the hell was going on here? And who was she?

Case closed. Killer killed. Mulder in the hospital. Scully doing the paperwork. Everything was as it should be except for one small thing. Mulder had amnesia. Complete and total memory loss when it came to any personal matters whatsoever.

He could remember how to speak, how to add, how to get dressed, and how to analyze a serial killer, but he didn't know anyone. Not even her.

Scully looked at the glowing computer screen on the desk in front of her and bit her lip. It wasn't his fault. It had been a traumatic case, one of several, and Mulder was completely stressed. He hadn't been sleeping for quite some time, his nightmares making it nearly impossible to get any rest, and her own abduction hadn't helped matters. Reports indicated that the amnesia was trauma and stress related, that it was highly selective, and that he wasn't remembering essentially because he didn't want to remember.

She understood, even empathized, with his not wanting to remember some of the details of his life. But her? Why wouldn't he want to remember her? Realizing she sounded self-pitying even to herself, she closed the report she'd been working on and powered down her computer. Enough was enough. He didn't remember her because she was part and parcel of the whole situation. He would remember in time. And she would be there when he did.

In the several weeks since the shooting, he had healed nicely, and was ready to return to work. There wasn't a reason in the world why he couldn't, except that he still hadn't regained his full memory. He knew the basics, remembered his FBI training, and showed phenomenal skill in the cases that Skinner had shown him to "ease him back in" as well as to jog his memory. Unfortunately, while his memory had jogged wonderfully well when it came to the work, he still didn't know anything about the last three years, and couldn't recall any of the personal memories of his life. No parents, no Samantha, no abduction, no little grey men. No Skinner, no X-Files. And no Scully.

He was sleeping better than he had in years. He just didn't know it.

Scully kept her faith, certain that once he was surrounded by the files that had been his obsession for so long, he would remember. It didn't work. He considered the work odd, but interesting, and they worked together well, but without the almost magical connection they had had before. After only two cases, the X-Files were shut down again, as usual with no indication from whom the order had originated. Scully protested, but Mulder didn't.

Two months of Violent Crimes, and his arrest record was incredible. For once, they got an indication of what sort of agent he would have been if he hadn't been distracted by his obsession. Clinical, cold, brilliant. He smiled often, and cracked punnish jokes, and munched on sunflower seeds. If he missed Scully, he never mentioned it. And he didn't mention the X-Files.

He met Frohike for lunch one day, and didn't tell anyone how uncomfortable he had been with his friend's rampant paranoia. He stopped by and talked with the Lone Gunmen, but they didn't have much to talk about. No interesting alien DNA, no odd government coverups. The visit was a little uncomfortable on both sides, and he soon left.

Scully worked away in the pathology lab, not complaining, not making waves. She watched, and she waited. And some nights , more often than she cared to admit, she parked silently across the street from his apartment building and stared at the darkened windows, wondering if he would ever remember, and missing him more than she'd thought possible.

Others weren't sure how real his memory loss actually was. Eyes watched him, measured him, kept lookout for slips in his story. But he seemed so sure. And the memories didn't come back. Finally, against the advice of some members of their little fraternity, they decided on a test.

Alex Krychek came through the back window, creeping through the darkened rooms and wondering at the silence. It was only a little after midnight. Surely he wasn't asleep already?

He moved like a shadow through the hallway, coming up beside the couch and peering into the shadows. The television was off. The couch was empty. And Alex was completely confused. Where the hell was Mulder?

Backtracking through the quiet hallway, he leaned his shoulders around the doorway to the bedroom and froze with surprise. Mulder was asleep. In his bed. Not on the couch. The sheets were draped smoothly across his legs, not tangled from some nameless nightmare. He looked ... peaceful. Krychek stared at him for a long moment, then holstered his weapon. He'd never seen Mulder like this, so relaxed. His hair was ruffled, a few dark locks falling over his forehead, making him look boyish. His mouth was slightly open, his parted lips surprising Krychek. His mouth looked so inviting. Unaware of his actions, Krychek moved closer, staring at the figure sprawled on the bed.

He was nude. That fact suddenly hit Alex with the force of a freight train, and he found his breath coming faster. His eyes widened slightly, and he drank in the details. He'd been Mulder's partner for such a short time, only a few months. He'd known he was attractive, but it had been secondary to his actual mission. Just as it should be tonight. But for some reason his body wasn't paying any attention to all of his mind's "shoulds."

Long legs moved restlessly, drawing his attention to their sleek lines. His eyes travelled hungrily up from the well shaped feet, along the hair roughened length of calf and thigh, to the shadowed pelvis. His penis lay quiescent, nestled in a bed of dark curls, well defined even in sleep. Alex's throat felt dry, and he swallowed heavily, trying to find some moisture. His hot gaze left Mulder's groin reluctantly, following the planes of his stomach, to the broad chest, small firm nipples slightly erect in the cool night air, fuzzy hair defining his collarbone, silky skin flowing over his shoulders. One long arm bent along- side his head, his hand curving next to his cheek in a curiously innocent posture, the other arm outflung to lie along the side of the bed, his fingers splayed across the pale sheets. Krychek's tongue flicked out to moisten his dry lips, and he swallowed again. He moved closer, until he was standing right next to the bed, and bent over Mulder. His head tilted as his eyes traced a line along Mulder's throat, around his shadowed jaw with the slight off center dimple, and he had to fight the urge to run his tongue over the indentation. He continued his perusal, taking in the angled cheekbones, the relaxed mouth, strong nose and feathery brows. Then he froze, as he realized that the warm hazel eyes were wide open, and staring right at him.

"Am I supposed to shoot you now, or are you supposed to shoot me?" His sleep-roughened voice felt like a caress to Krychek's ears, and he smiled in reply.

"Neither." God, did that come from him? He sounded so ... needy.

"Then, what?" The deceptively sleepy eyes were taking in everything, and Krychek felt an almost overwhelming urge to show him what he felt. Then he thought about it. Why not? Mulder didn't know who he was, wasn't aware of their past history. Why shouldn't he have a little fun? If he was truthful, he'd been wanting to get in Mulder's pants for months.

"I'm an ... old friend."

Mulder's pupils expanded in the dim light. Alex was caught in the inky blackness, drawing closer still. Suddenly, one corner of that generous mouth quirked up, and Alex smiled in return, a feral smile, only partially masked by the darkness.

"A good one, I hope," came that sleepy voice again, "considering the way you're looking at me."

"A very good one," he purred in reply.

Krychek eased his black leather jacket off and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Mulder watched every move he made, curious, but not afraid. His instincts were trying to tell him something, but he couldn't figure it out. They'd been doing this to him for months, and he was frankly tired of trying. As long as this man made no move to hurt him, he'd settle back for the show and see what he had in mind. Something told him that they'd never been lovers. In fact, the only person he'd been attracted to since he'd lost his memory was Agent Scully. But she'd been reassigned and had made no move since to contact him, so they must not have been as close as his gut instinct told him they had. So he wasn't trusting his gut much these days. The warm touch of fingertips sliding along his shoulder brought him out of his reverie and he froze, wondering what would happen next.

"What's your name?" Softly. Curiosity still getting the better of him.

The other man paused, then smiled, a sweet smile with a hint of teeth behind it.

"Alex."

"Alex." Krychek watched him as his eyes narrowed, brow furrowing as he tried to recall the past. Trying to distract him, and needing to give in to the temptation to touch him, he lowered his head to the slightly salty skin of Mulder's shoulder. When he met no resistence, he raised his head and looked askance at the larger man. Mulder looked back at him, one brow raised, and smiled.

"And just how close friends are we, Alex?"

Krychek laughed quietly, and bent forward again, running his tongue along the hollow of Mulder's collarbone, nibbling the side of that delicious throat, licking under his jawline, stopping to suck lightly on his earlobe. He was rewarded with a quick gasp from Mulder, and raised his head again to see huge eyes staring back at him, now more green than hazel, pupils nearly swallowing the irises. This was too delicious. Mulder had absolutely no idea. Now Krychek could take his pleasure with him, then return to his controllers and tell them the honest truth, that Mulder was not faking his amnesia, that he was absolutely no threat to them any longer. And then maybe he would return. For a little more pleasure.

Shrugging his thin black tee shirt off, he quickly shed his pants and boots, pulling his briefs off with his loose slacks. His shoulder length hair swung loose from the band holding it back, and Mulder's hand raised to finger the strands inquisitively. Like black silk. Not the least bit familiar. Yet, there were flashes... almost like memories, but more impressions ... Krychek's mouth closed hungrily over his, cutting off his musings and startling him a little. The raw need in the other man's lips took him by storm, and he found himself responding almost unwittingly. It was an odd experience. His mind was analyzing the whole encounter, trying to isolate the aspects that felt familiar and sifting away the unfamiliar, intent on restoring lost memory. His body was responding to the firm hands caressing it, the hot mouth plundering his, and the urgent movements of Alex's legs between his own, and paying absolutely no attention to his mind. Mulder felt intensely confused.

Krychek couldn't believe what was happening. Not only was Mulder allowing him to touch him, he was responding beautifully. He levered himself over Mulder's body, rubbing his straining erection against Mulder's stomach, his half formed erection, the tops of his thighs. Mulder was beginning to writhe underneath him, stimulated in spite of himself by the hands on his nipples, rubbing the long muscles down his sides, gripping his buttocks then curving around the front of his groin to cup his sac, fingers squeezing firmly as they traced the veins along his penis, flicked the sensitive head, coaxing a full erection out of him. Krychek grinned against the curve of Mulder's shoulder as he felt the other man's hands begin their own restless journey, running through his hair, pulling his head back to lick at the side of his throat, kneading his shoulders firmly.

Their hips began to rock together, the friction between their erect penises driving them quickly beyond rational thought. Alex tore his head away from Mulder's hands, pinning him down to the bed and running his open mouth the length of his torso, finally stopping when Mulder's slick penis rested alongside his jaw. Hardly pausing for breath, he widened his lips and took him in his mouth, savoring the salty taste of ejaculate on the tip, revelling in the moan his actions tore from Mulder's throat. Long fingers thrust through his hair, pulling him closer, as he began a steady rhythm, working his lips and tongue around and along Mulder's penis, first pumping the shaft with his hand while sucking strongly on the tip, then sliding his mouth down the length of him, caressing the flesh with the inside of his cheeks. Mulder was thrashing in earnest now, and Alex began to hum deep in his throat. At the same time, he pinned Mulder's hips with one arm and thrust the other between his spread thighs, working his hand along the sweat-soaked line of his buttocks until he could thrust first one, then two fingers deep in his ass, massaging him and sending him over the edge. Mulder's whole body arched, nearly throwing Alex off, but he held on, riding out the storm. Mulder pumped furiously into Alex's mouth, screaming aloud with the sensations causing his body to spasm, until finally there was no energy left to move.

Krychek lay for a moment with his head on Mulder's stomach, the other man's hands tangled in his hair. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face. Never, ever would he have believed that Mulder would be so incredibly responsive, especially with him, of all people. Proof positive that Mulder had no memory of the past. He felt Mulder take a deep breath, his belly moving under Krychek's cheek, and smiled. Time for some satisfaction of his own.

Carefully disentangling Mulder's fingers from his scalp, wincing when a few hairs were pulled away, he lifted himself up and surveyed Mulder's prone body. Sweat gleamed off his skin everywhere the dim light hit him, and he looked utterly replete. Alex licked his lips, tasting Mulder again, and surged up to lie on top the taller man's body. Mulder looked at him for a moment with an odd sort of confusion, and Alex leaned down over him, opening his mouth over Mulder's in a wet kiss, thrusting his tongue into the silky depths and sharing the taste with the source. Mulder shuddered once, then pushed back with his own tongue, taking Krychek by surprise and flipping him over so that Mulder lay on top and Alex was the one who was pinned. Alex looked up at the intent face staring down into his, and couldn't believe what he found himself saying.

"Fuck me." It was more plea than command. Mulder leaned down to kiss him, tonguing him deeply in return, and Krychek dropped his knees to the sides of Mulder's hips, silently giving him easy access. Mulder raised his hands to Alex's knees, pushing them upward to open him up for entry, then paused. Something was nagging at him, something important, something he should remember. For an instant Dana Scully's face swam in front of his eyes, and he got even harder than before. He hadn't thought that was possible. Krychek responded to the slide of the tip of his penis between his thighs with a whimper, and Mulder focused on what was happening now. Or rather, what _wasn't_ happening. For an instant, he looked down at Krychek, and Alex finally broke through the haze of passion to realize that Mulder hadn't done this before, and wasn't sure what to do next.

Krychek cursed under his breath, then reached down between their bodies to grasp Mulder's penis and draw him closer. Shifting his knees so that they rested in the hollows of Mulder's shoulders, he placed the tip of Mulder's penis against his opening and rocked. Instinct took over, and Mulder finally, finally gave him what he was craving, pushing slowly and steadily into him. Once he was all the way in, he stopped, giving Alex a chance to adapt to the feel of him. He really was large. But Alex was having none of it. Thrusting his hips forward, he began a steady rocking, and Mulder moved in counterpoint, enjoying the tight heat and the unusual position. The analytical part of his mind that was still working on the memory problem divulged the information that this was a first, that he hadn't had sex with a man before, then Krychek began to clench his ass muscles like a fist around Mulder's driving penis, and all attempt at rational thought was buried by the intense need to come.

Ignoring the wrenching moans that Mulder was wringing from him, Krychek concentrated on the incredible sensations radiating from their joined bodies, and the rush of adrenaline that was making practically every hair on his body stand on end. Peeling one hand away from Mulder's slick, hot chest, he lowered it to his own aching penis and began to stroke in time with Mulder's thrusts. The combined sensations were a sensual overload, and he climaxed explosively, spraying between their bodies so fiercely that he nearly blacked out. The rhythmic contractions seizing his body clenched Mulder in their grip as well, and the added pressure sent him over the edge.

When Krychek came back to himself, Mulder had slipped out of him and was laying, spreadeagled, taking up a good two thirds of the bed. His abdomen and chest were covered with Alex's come, and his entire groin was coated with a mixture of both their semen. Krychek thought he'd never looked so incredibly beautiful. Unaware of the satiated smile on his own mouth, he closed his eyes and slept.

The images were solidifying. Finally, with a mental sigh of satisfaction, all of the pieces were starting to fall together. Mulder lay for long moments in the darkness, images flashing past his eyes like home videos. When it became too intense, he rolled quietly from the bed and went into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection, taking in the swollen lips, the marks made by greedy hands on his chest, neck, thighs, arms, the dried semen caking his torso and chest and groin. For an instant he thought he was going to vomit, then he controlled his stomach and wet a washcloth with steaming water. As quickly as he could, he washed all the visible evidence of his recent encounter from his body. His mind, after it's intensive work, seemed to have shut down, and he was going through the motions by rote.

Two images kept flashing in front of his eyes, making his hands tremble and churning his stomach. Krychek, helping the bastards take Scully, taking his partner away from him, giving her to the torturers. And Krychek again, dressed in black, putting a fatal bullet in his father's head. He blindly turned out the bathroom light and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Still naked, not turning on any other lights, he made his way into the bedroom and pulled his Glock from its holster. Turning to the sleeping form of Krychek, he steadied himself.

"Alex." Just loudly enough to be heard.

Krychek stirred, opened his eyes. The satiated smile was still in place. It lasted until he realized that Mulder was no longer lying beside him, that he was pointing his gun at his unprotected stomach. Krychek made an abortive move to roll away from the threat, but Mulder flicked off the safety, and he froze. As Mulder squeezed the trigger the first time, he grabbed at the blossoming pain in his abdomen, too shocked to even scream.

"That is for Scully."

Startled, terrified dark eyes searched Mulder's, unable to believe this was really happening. As Mulder levelled the gun one more time, pointing it directly between Krychek's eyes, the last words he heard were, "This is for my father."

Mulder stared at the corpse on his bed, the remnants of brains splattered across the pillows, blood running freely and soaking the sheets. He lowered the gun and slowly walked into the front room. So far there hadn't been any indications that his neighbors were alarmed. The apartment above his was unoccupied, and the tenants who lived below were away on vacation. His bedroom was in the middle of his apartment, so he didn't have to worry about shared walls. With any luck, the people around him would attribute the gunshot to a television program turned up too loud. Dimly, he realized that he had committed a felony, and was in the process of covering it up. Another part of his mind reminded him that this was the only way Alex Krychek would ever be brought to justice.

Wandering to the couch, he slumped down and picked up his cellular telephone. Punching in a number he hadn't used in months, he was relieved to hear Scully's alert voice on the other end of the line. Apparently she hadn't been sleeping too well either.

"Scully?"

"Mulder?" Her voice sounded incredulous. "Is that you? Are you okay?"

"Yes and no. How fast can you get here?" He couldn't disguise the urgency in his words.

"Um." She sounded sheepish. "Two minutes? I'm, uh, right outside your building."

"Great." He didn't waste time finding out why. "I have ... a problem."

"Be right there."

By the time she got up the elevator, Mulder had managed to wrestle Krychek's corpse back into it's slacks. The rest was too difficult. He answered the bell before the first ring died off, and pulled Scully into the living room. To her intense surprise and delight, he caught her up in a bear hug before releasing her and leading her to the couch.

"All right, Mulder. What's this about?"

"I remember, Scully. Everything." Her eyes lit up, but she kept silent, sensing he wasn't finished. "But I found out because ..." he gulped, and she looked at him quizzically. Taking a deep breath, he let it out all in a rush. "Alex Krychek came here tonight and I didn't remember who he was and next thing I knew we were in bed together and we had sex and then all the memories came back and I just about vomited but instead I got my gun and killed the son of a bitch and now his corpse is in my bed."

She looked at him in complete shock. Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn't been this.

"Do you know what this means?" Her hushed voice finally broke the silence.

"I go back to sleeping on the couch?"

"Mulder!" She almost screamed at him. He shrugged a shoulder and looked at her apologetically. Now she knew he remembered everything, even his sick sense of humor. "What do we do now?"

"Well, I've been thinking about that." She looked at him expectantly, and he grimaced at her. "I know where Cancerman lives."

She got up without another word and walked into his bedroom. He waited for what felt like an eternity before she returned. Looking at him with calm blue eyes, she asked, "So I take it we bring him a present?"

Krychek was overdue. He should have reported in hours ago. The man who held the secrets let himself into his cold apartment, as barren as he was himself, an accurate reflection of his personality. Walking slowly into the bedroom, he flicked the lightswitch on and froze. Alex Krychek's dead body lay half dressed across his unmade bed. From the placement of the bullets, it appeared that Mulder had his memory back.

He continued his walk to the side of the bed and picked up the telephone. A quick dial, some softly spoken words, and a disposal team was on its way to take care of the detritus. Another casualty in a shadow war. He looked at the corpse for a moment, then returned to his front room to await the others. Mulder remembered.

It was time to begin the game again.

End