Category/Rating: Slash/NC-17/Angst Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. CC does. SPOILERS: Takes place right after The Paper Clip Trilogy WARNING: This contains m/m sexual content. If this offends you, please hit *delete.* This fanfic may NOT be archived anywhere without my written permission. NOTE: This fic has never been posted anywhere besides the now defunct "Socks Shoppe" and since I still get the occasional request for it, I thought it might be fun to stick up on USENET. Feedback is very welcome, flames are used for my new circus act. Thanks. :-) COMEUPPANCE II: GLASS by DB Kate dbkate@yahoo.com %%%%%%%%% Alex Krycek was running. Running down the streets of D.C., with the night, the trees and the black sidewalks whirling past. There was a searing pain in his chest and a voice chanting in his ear. //You're a dead man...you're a dead man...you're a dead man..// Two hours before he'd made a phone call to that smoking bastard, one where he had explained *exactly* what the new deal between them was. The life of Alex Krycek was his own to keep, along with the tape that was his insurance. And if the smoking bastard didn't agree, then Krycek was going to make him a very famous man. Very famous, indeed. It'd been a wonderful feeling, spitting those words into the phone after he'd narrowly escaped the booby-trapped car the bastard had set up for him, its explosion coming *that* close to ending his life. But now the glorious feeling of cheating death had been replaced with an unimaginable fear, a terror that perhaps the tape wasn't enough and that he, in fact, was just delaying the inevitable. That Alex Krycek's life of luck had reached its end. But Krycek kept running, instinctively, his legs churning beneath him with dull aches throbbing in his calves. He turned an ankle on a loose piece of cement and tripped, but quickly regained his balance and continued. A sharp pain was searing through his side, but Krycek still ran, for he was a hunted man now, and he must run...or die. His back burnt strangely underneath his jacket and he began to tire, his legs simply refusing to carry him any further. He slowed and finally wheezed to a stop. He was breathing harshly, and after a deep, shuddering breath, he looked around and took slow stock of his surroundings. He was amazed at how far he'd gone on an emotion as simple as fear. A suburban neighborhood stood before him -- its welcoming porches and cheery gardens mocking him, telling him that he didn't belong there. And that he never would. But this place looks familiar, thought Krycek. Very familiar. Wiping a shaking hand across his dry mouth, he stared at the buildings around him and vague memories started to return. Memories of weekends spent walking up this block, passing a certain garage, going to a store nearby. I've been here before, he thought, I know I have. A moment later, he saw it. Brian's house. //God, I'm in front of Brian's house.// Krycek grimaced and looked away. Well, that's just great. I go through all the trouble of putting my past behind me and look where I run right back to. Straight to the person who destroyed me in the first place. To the person who, if he hadn't left me, might have helped things turn out differently. I might still be with the Bureau, still have my job, my self-respect...my life. And who knows, maybe I'd even be living in that house right now. Krycek stared at the house and its neat steps and white shutters stared back at him. He saw a light on in the front room, it was the muted shades of a glowing computer monitor. He took a short step closer and then back, until a wave of lightheadedness made the world around him pulse madly. Bile rose in his throat, and he saw tiny flashes of light when he closed his eyes. I'm going to pass out on his stoop, thought Krycek. Great. Well, if I'm going to do that, I might as well do it inside. He climbed the stairs shakily, holding on to the railing, and hesitating for just a second, he rang the bell. Krycek heard a voice from behind the door and fought the urge to run. "Coming." When Brian Pendrell opened the door, the cup he was holding fell to the ground. "Oh, my God." Krycek shrugged awkwardly, his vision blurring around the edges. "Hey, Brian. I was...in the neighborhood. Just thought I'd say hi." He swallowed and his tongue felt huge inside his mouth. "Alex," Pendrell said in shock and then regained his composure. "Well, I..well. Would you like to come in?" he asked with an ushering gesture. Krycek felt a wave of dizziness almost take him to the ground. "Well, yeah. Actually, I would." He took a deep, steadying breath and stepped inside. "Look, I don't want to bother you, but I..." Pendrell interrupted him. "You're not bothering me." He stared at Krycek, at his worn jeans and tired face. He was pale and his jacket was ripped. There was something else too -- a thin stream of blood was trickling down Krycek's shirt, leaving wet, crimson trails down its white cotton front. Pendrell paled. "You know Alex, I think you're hurt. How about letting me take a look?" he said slowly, carefully closing the door behind Krycek. He quickly pulled his desk chair to the middle of the small living room and motioned for Krycek to straddle it. Krycek sullenly obeyed and leaned over the chair's back, exhausted. "Look, I didn't come here to annoy you, but..." "You're not annoying me." Pendrell gingerly helped him out of the worn leather jacket and didn't make a sound when he saw the back of Krycek's shirt. It was soaked with a bright, scarlet stain running from his neck to his waist. Swallowed hard and gently pulled the collar back. Turned white when he saw the bloody pieces of glass sticking out of Krycek's neck. "Yep," he continued, weakly. "I think you've got a couple of cuts here. I'll get the first aid kit. Be right back. Don't move, OK?" He ran to the back of the apartment. Krycek could hear the doors of medicine cabinets and bathroom closets being flung open and then slammed shut, with various items falling and clattering to the floor. He sighed and suddenly regretted coming there. What the hell were you thinking, Alexander? What the hell, what the hell, what the hell he heard, in two languages, his thoughts a jumbled mix of Russian and English. He closed his eyes when Pendrell returned. He said nothing as the shirt was lifted up over his head or when he heard the clatter of metal things against a small tray. Brian's voice came softly from behind him. "I don't want to upset you, Alex, but you have some glass imbedded in your back. Do you want me to take it out?" Great, just fucking great, thought Krycek . "Sure." Pendrell worked quietly for a few minutes and Krycek winced against the sting of the alcohol and sharp bites of tweezers plucking what felt like the flesh right off of his back. Idiot, Krycek chanted to himself. This was an idiotic idea. You should have just gone to a motel room and drank the pain off, or...or... He didn't know what he should have done, but anything would have been better than sitting there underneath the steady, precise hands he remembered from a time long before. "What happened?" asked Pendrell quietly. "What does it look like happened?" replied Krycek miserably. Pendrell carefully examined a small shard he held between the tweezers. "Well, this looks like windshield glass. Slight tint. Full grain." Krycek laughed helplessly and shook his head. The FBI wasn't kidding when they hired this kid. Sharp as a fucking tack. Even without his microscope. "So, what happened?" asked Pendrell again, continuing to extract tiny pieces of glass from Krycek's back, taking a moment to swab the cuts with alcohol. "During the course of my dirty work for an international syndicate of power-mad men, I was double-crossed after retrieving a tape of incalculable value and forced to jump from a car that was booby-trapped with high-powered explosives," replied Krycek, his voice muffled and his head buried in his arms. There was a moment of silence before Pendrell answered. "No, seriously, Alex. What happened?" Krycek rolled his eyes. "I smashed into a Dairy Queen." Pendrell nodded knowingly. "Ah." Krycek kept his head down and winced with pain when Pendrell pulled a larger shard from underneath his hairline. He shut his eyes tightly, trying unsuccessfully to stop the room's horrible, sickening spin. Nausea took its hold over him and he coughed up, then swallowed, a small mouthful of bile. Everything began to hurt. His body, his mind...his soul. Please make it stop, God, he thought. Just make it stop. "Are you sure you're not hurt?" asked Pendrell, a note of concern creeping into his voice. "Look, I can take you to the hospital. It's only..." Krycek sharply interrupted. "No!" The room's spin calmed slightly as Krycek raised his head and took two huge, quivering breaths. He continued in a quieter tone. "No...I'll...I'll go tomorrow. You don't have to take me anywhere. I'm fine." They were silent for a few moments and soon Pendrell handed him a fresh shirt. "You're all done as far as I can see. I guess the rest is up to you." "Yeah. Guess it is," replied Krycek, pulling the shirt over his head with short, angry yanks. What a fuck-up I am, he thought miserably. Such a fuck-up. "Alex?" "Yeah?" "You're welcome to have some dinner if you'd like. Are you hungry?" Pendrell's voice was gentle and kind. Krycek looked up at him and the sight of light-blue eyes, filled with concern, nearly made him cry. He merely nodded in reply, unable to speak. "Good. I made soup tonight, I just have to heat it up. I'll make some tea for us, too. Take a minute. It'll be good to talk to you. Haven't seen you for a while." Pendrell got up and went to the apartment's small kitchen and Krycek watched as he efficiently heated the soup, measured the water and lined up the bags, ever the scientist. He was wearing jeans and a button-down work shirt, soft blue and loose fitting and it was such a vast improvement over the lab coat and dull tie that always gave him that inescapable air of dweebishness in the office. His hair was still wet from the shower and Krycek could smell the clean, warm scent of shampoo and soap. Felt a slight warmth roll down his stomach, down to his legs and berated himself for it. That's over, Alex. Over. The kitchen hadn't changed much since the last time he had been there, Krycek noted. God, it felt like a million years ago since he'd been in that kitchen, usually on a Saturday morning, having tea with Brian, sometimes talking, sometimes not talking, but simply taking him right there in the kitchen, bending him over the chair and... Krycek sighed and shifted painfully in his seat, his cock suddenly remembering those Saturday mornings too. He kept watching and tried to forget that he was an outlaw. Attempted to trick himself into believing that nothing had ever changed. He grimaced when he leaned back against the chair, the cuts in his back still burning, the tiny, invisible shards of glass still making him wince with pain. Pendrell returned with a tray holding a bowl of hot soup and two steaming mugs of tea. He set it in front of Krycek with a bashful smile. Krycek remembered that smile, and once again squirmed in his chair, the ache between his legs becoming hot and burdensome. He picked up the spoon and started to eat, not looking up at his host, who was examining him very carefully, with pale blue eyes peering at him over a hot mug. The soup was eaten quickly and Krycek began to feel better , the lightheadedness and nausea disappearing with the food. They sat together in silence for a long while, the only sounds the clatter of a spoon tapping against a bowl and the odd beep of a car horn in the distance. Finally, Krycek decided that the silence was more troublesome than speech. "So, how's Dana Scully?" he asked, taking a huge gulp of tea, nearly boiling as it was. He let it burn his mouth and enjoyed the pain when it did. "Agent Scully?" Pendrell flushed. "She's...she's fine. I guess." Krycek looked sharply at him. "Aren't you two engaged by now?" Pendrell looked at the floor and shook his head. "No. Not really." He squirmed under Krycek's gaze. "I don't think she's into dating anyone at the moment." "Really? So, have you given up on her?" asked Krycek, a secret hope rising in his heart. "Oh no, but..." Pendrell immediately replied, then stopped when he saw the darkness fall in Krycek's eyes. He took a deep breath and continued confidently. "No. Not at all. It's just going to take longer than I thought. That's all." "Good," said Krycek abruptly, letting his spoon clatter onto the tray. "After a decade or so, you'll be ready to go on Oprah. You know, the *My Hopeless Crush* show." Pendrell inhaled sharply and turned a bright shade of red. "Are you done?" he asked tersely. Krycek knew that Pendrell wasn't talking about dinner, but pretended he was. "Yep. Thanks." Pendrell picked up the tray without a word and returned to the kitchen. There was a long, tense silence as he turned on the faucet and began to wash the dishes. They banged sharply against the porcelain and Krycek couldn't tell if that was an accident or a sign of anger. "So, where have *you* been, Alex?" Pendrell called out after a few moments, the sound of running water filling the apartment. "I was surprised when they told me you'd left the Bureau. Did you get another job?" Krycek thought dismally for a moment before replying. "Yeah. I got another job." Pendrell yelled above the running water. "Doing what?" "Consulting work. Mostly," answered Krycek, rubbing his aching temples. He heard the swish and clatter of dishes being washed. "Do you like it?" Krycek thought for a moment. "No." he answered truthfully. "Why not?" "Lots of travel, late nights, no benefits. Can't beat the money, though," said Krycek distractedly. "But I wonder if it's worth it sometimes." Pendrell nodded. "Money's no substitute for happiness," he said sagely, turning the water off and drying his hands on a dishtowel. "So, where was this accident you had? Around here?" Krycek shook his head. "Montrose." "Montrose?" replied Pendrell in a shocked voice, entering the living room. "That's nowhere near here." "Yeah." "Are you sure you're all right?" "Yeah." Pendrell quietly sat in front of Krycek, his expression concerned. "Alex, there's something very wrong here. I can see it." He warmly ran a hand through Krycek's dark hair, pushing it away from his eyes. "Come on, you can still tell me your troubles, can't you? We're still friends, aren't we?" Krycek grimaced. His back was burning and the cuts were starting to itch. "I...I don't want to talk about it." Disappointment filled Pendrell's features. "All right. Maybe some other time then." Yes, some other time, thought Krycek. When I learn how to turn the clock back to a time when I was a decent man -- a man with clean hands and a clear conscience. And to a new place, a place where I'm no longer haunted day and night by two red-haired women, one crying out for someone...anyone to please, please help her, and the other, silent and bloody on a cold living room floor. To a place where I have nothing to hide from the innocent blue eyes before me. Krycek shivered, his arms and chest cold. He felt Pendrell's hand run once more through his hair and wished he wouldn't do that, if only to stop the fierce hopes that kept rising in his heart. "Well, I'm going to bed now, are you coming?" Brian asked softly. "It *is* late, you know." Krycek's head snapped up, his heart in his throat. "What?" Pendrell quickly raised a hand. "*Just* for sleeping, Alex. I have an early day tomorrow, and I really have to be in top form. And you know that couch is impossible to sleep on. Come on, it's not like we've never shared a bed before," said Pendrell smiling. "Or, look, if you're too uncomfortable, you take the bed and I'll take the couch." Krycek shook his head, unable to turn away from the blue eyes in front of him. "No, I think we can share the bed for a night." "Good," said Pendrell, and he tilted his head toward the bedroom. Soon, Krycek was walking down a hallway he knew very well, with a man he knew every part of, a man who had once made him happy in almost every way, except for the inconvenient fact that he had broken his heart. "I wouldn't mind the company, actually." And soon they sat side by side on the bed, with Krycek shifting painfully, his back still aching from the cuts and the throb between his legs returning, hard and troubling. The bedroom hadn't changed at all except for the addition of a television. "This is new," said Krycek, nodding at the inane, flickering images in front of them. Pendrell shrugged and mindlessly clicked the remote. "Gotta do something in bed." Krycek raised an eyebrow at him. "There are better things to do than this." "I know that," Pendrell laughed. "But unfortunately, not for me." "Doesn't have to be like that," said Krycek, gently taking the remote and clicking the television off. "We can do something else tonight." "Oh, I don't know, Alex," said Pendrell nervously. "I don't think so." "Why not?" asked Krycek softly. "It'll be like old times." He ran a hand over the leg that lie next to him, and marveled at its warmth and the heat it sent up his arm, through his chest and down to every part of him. "It's no big deal," he lied, but it was worth the invention. "We can forget it about it tomorrow." The baby blues turned toward him, huge and disconcerted. "I really don't think we should. I mean, you know...it's been a long time, and while I...I mean, I don't think we left things off very well and I don't think that..." he stammered as Krycek rolled over, straddled him and hooked a finger through his shirt's top button. Krycek popped the button open, his eyes very green and bright, with dark hair falling over his forehead. "You don't think what?" Pendrell fidgeted slightly, looking flushed and shy. "I don't think that this is a very good idea." "Let me ask you something, Brian. When *was* the last time you got laid?" asked Krycek, popping the second button. "Well, let's see. When was the last time I saw you?" replied Pendrell with a wan laugh, re-buttoning the button, only to have the next one popped open. He squirmed under Krycek's hands, which were everywhere...touching, taking, soothing. "Last time you saw me was almost two years ago. And yet, you say you're not horny in the slightest, huh?" Pendrell tried to redo more buttons, as the ones underneath fell to the side under Krycek's fingers. "I wouldn't say that. But I'm in love with Dana Scully, Alex. She may not know, she may not care, but I can wait." "Oh. So you can wait?" Pendrell nodded with a sudden, stubborn intensity. "I can wait." "And how long are you willing to wait?" asked Krycek, pulling the shirt apart. Pendrell drew in a sharp breath as he felt two warm hands push under his T-shirt. "As long as it takes," he whispered without conviction. "You know, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. Actually, it's the stupidest thing I've ever heard anyone say, " said Krycek as he snuck a hand beneath Pendrell's neck. With one swift motion, he pulled him up toward him. "And I hate it when someone so smart is so stupid." "Alex..." began Pendrell, but stopped mid-sentence as Krycek crushed his mouth to his. He moaned against Krycek's lips and it was such an urgent, wonderful sound, it took every ounce of self-control Krycek had, not to simply take him right there and then. "You know why it's stupid, Brian?" asked Krycek breathlessly, as he rose and pulled the shirt off of the man underneath him.. "Because you have someone right here who'll give you so much more. So why settle? Why give yourself so completely to a woman who probably doesn't give a damn? One who probably doesn't even know your name?" Pendrell was about to respond when he felt a strong hand between his legs, pressing through his jeans. He groaned instead of speaking and his hips bucked up to meet the hand, beseeching more contact. Krycek shook his head. He'd had lovers during the time that he and Brian were apart, but none were quite like this. Brian had always been this way, insatiable but submissive, fighting for and against every touch. He kissed him once more and could hear Brian's heart pounding, blood coursing through his throat, his cheeks and mouth. There was another low moan against Krycek's lips and he heard the small, pleading words, begging for release. Yes, I'll give it to you, thought Krycek, but you have to promise to be mine afterwards and I'll promise to forget all the sharp evil in this world and then, only then, will we be happy again. Krycek slid down and kissed his throat. There was no resistance now, just warm hands urging him on, fingers entwined in his hair and small, strong caresses against his neck and cheek. He took his time, remembering scents, and tastes and secret places once forgotten, but now, familiar again. God, I've missed this, thought Krycek, I've missed him. He worked his way down, slowly, carefully, and was rewarded with sweet, familiar sounds, mixed words of desire and need. He felt his own body respond to the excitement of the person underneath him, and suddenly Krycek wished for a hundred things at once. Everything was hot now...the air, the room, the bed, and he himself was so maddeningly close to the edge, that he was almost disappointed when he heard the sharp cry come from beneath him and felt the warmth spill into his mouth, sliding down his throat and fall past his lips. He rose, and lay back breathing deeply, his head against Brian 's thigh. At least...at least I'm still, he thought, at least I'm no longer running. Krycek felt two strong arms pull him up and Brian kissed him deeply. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I did miss you. I would be lying if I said I didn't," whispered Brian against his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry." Krycek took a sharp intake of breath and felt the sting in his eyes. "Be quiet. Please..." "Stay here tonight. And tomorrow we'll talk. Maybe you're right," said Pendrell, trailing small kisses down his neck. "I bet I can do better than her. Stay with me." No, I can't stay, not tonight, not ever, thought Krycek, the tightness beginning to grip his throat. I have to leave. I'm a hunted man, I'm a... But before he could protest, Brian passionately took his mouth, and soon, Alex Krycek could no longer think. He felt himself being rolled onto his back and the cuts burned their way into him, the tiny shards of glass pricking him like needles. But soon, they were forgotten. When he felt the warm mouth on him and taking him in, he almost imagined that for one moment, he was no longer hunting or hunted, chasing or fleeing and that he merely existed in this space, which was one he had always belonged in. He called out Brian's name when he came, and the slow, kind smile was the last thing he saw before he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, and dreamed of a world whirling past and the Devil himself right behind him. Telling him that he was, indeed, a dead man. Three hours later Krycek rose, and with his back still burning, he dressed and crept from the house. He didn't kiss the sleeping man goodbye, he left no note, no words...just a memory and tiny dots of blood on white sheets. And once again, Alex Krycek was running. Down the streets of D.C., with the night, the trees and the black sidewalks whirling past. There was a searing pain in his side and a voice chanting in his ear. //You're a dead man. You're a dead man. You're a dead man.// This time he wasn't allowed to stop. ************* Fini! All comments welcome. dbkate@yahoo.com