See disclaimers and notes in Part One.

---------------------------

Seconds
By Tiramisu

Part Two:

Light from the hallway was seeping through the crack in the slightly open door as Mulder awakened. Some instinct in him reached over, but the other side of the bed was empty. He cursed himself silently. It had been more than six years now since those few months Krycek had shared a bed with him - was he never going to stop reaching for the man?

He rolled over, noticed the dim nightlight burning in the hallway, and remembered where he was. Or rather, remembered what he knew about where he was - which, he reflected, wasn't much. Lying there, he tried yet again to recollect what had happened. He remembered traveling to Oregon with Scully to investigate a possible UFO-related incident. Remembered the kid, Billy Miles, who was now not a kid but a police deputy. Remembered some stupid scolding he got back at the bureau for going over budget. But that was before going to Oregon, wasn't it? Did he go back to DC after that, or was he in Oregon right before being in this house?

No. He was somewhere else in between. Possibly a lot of somewheres. If he could only piece together the fragments of memory….

If only he could stay awake long enough to reason his way through it….

***********************

Rohrer had insisted that Alex meet him at the top of the Cladder Building, thirty-five stories over the District of Columbia, and he was already waiting on the roof when Alex arrived at seven-thirty. The rain that had swept through the region earlier had frozen in patches, and as Alex headed toward the edge where Rohrer stood, he thought about how easily either of them could end up no more than a large messy spot on the concrete below. So he waited several feet from the parapet, until Rohrer gave in and moved toward him.

"What do you want, Krycek?"

Alex went straight to the point. "Zeus - what's it mean to ya?"

Knowle Rohrer studied Krycek with an unpleasant grin. "Thinking about having a baby, Alex?" His eyes moved slowly from Krycek's face down to his shoes.

"Thinking about never having any, Knowle?"

Rohrer chuckled coolly. "Take it easy, boy. Zeus, huh? Place is trying to perfect human DNA. One of three facilities sponsored by the US government to do just that - but you already know that, don't you?"

Alex nodded. "Have they succeeded?"

"Maybe." Rohrer cast an interested glance at Alex. "Why?"

"Just answer the question, will you? As far as you know, have the doctors at that lab managed to create some kind of superior human?"

Rohrer shook his head slightly, but his eyes glittered brightly. "Not that I know of. But I think I'd better look into it, hmm?"

Alex didn't trust that gleam in Rohrer's eyes. He'd known the man for several years, but there was something not right about him tonight. Still, he'd proven himself a reliable source in the past…

"While you're at it, find out for me what's really being done with those alien-in-a-bottle things, or whatever the hell they are."

"Sure." Rohrer headed for the door into the building. "It's chilly out tonight. If there's nothing else you need, how about we get back down to sea level?" He pulled open the large metal door, let himself through, and held the door open for Krycek.

Alex shrugged. Damn idiot, he thought. It's not like I was the one who wanted to meet on a rooftop. "Fine," he agreed, taking the door from Rohrer and passing through. From habit, he took a moment to be certain that the door closed silently, and as he turned back around, he discovered that Rohrer was holding the elevator for him.

Well, it's after work hours, he reasoned. I don't suppose anyone would see us together. Anyway, he's the one whose job would suffer for it, not me.

So he stepped reluctantly into the elevator and leaned against the back wall. His eyes automatically glanced upward, checking for the trap-door. As long as there was an exit…

"Basement or lobby?" Rohrer asked.

"Basement," Alex told him. Lowering his eyes from the trapdoor, he caught Rohrer leaning forward to hit the B button.

And the breath all but fled his lungs as he noticed the bumps on the back of Rohrer's neck.

Oh, shit.

*************************

Alex was doing ninety miles an hour on the I-83 North before he really became aware again of where he was. The car windows were wide open, in spite of the cold, and a light sleet was blowing in on him. The same lines spun repeatedly through his brain -

Rohrer was one of them. A replicant. Alien.

The elevator ride had been endless. Sheer will had kept Krycek still during the descent, the windowless metal walls closing in on him as he watched the countdown on the elevator register. Every floor they passed was a year, an eon.

Rohrer was one of them.

Thirty-five floors. Thirty-six, to the basement. Stay calm. Twenty flights to go. The elevator barely crawled. Could replicants turn into black oil? he wondered.

An alien. Rohrer wasn't human any more.

Five weeks of the taste of oil in his mouth. The stench of it in his nostrils. Five weeks of no escape from that dank, airless chamber. Of just him and an alien presence that could enter him, control him, without even a chance to fight it. Five weeks of hell.

And Rohrer was an alien now.

The little 'ding' of the elevator bell as the doors eased open was the sound of freedom made almost tangible. The crushing feeling in his lungs was almost unbearable. There was a cold, crawling sensation along his skin. But Alex, ever the well-trained soldier, fought the urge to flee and walked calmly through the doors behind Rohrer, nodded in response to the other man's good-night wave, and proceeded toward his car at a perfect leisurely pace. Not until Rohrer's minivan had disappeared out of the parking garage and onto the street did Alex's legs fold bonelessly under him.

**************************

There was nothing wrong with the muffler on Smith's pickup, but the noise of the engine turning over was an outrage in the middle of the quiet country night. Mulder had just begun to drift off to sleep again when the sound shook the room. Intrigued, he worked his way to the window in time to see the red taillights turn right along a road Mulder couldn't make out in the darkness. Where was Smith going at this time of night?

The Lexus wasn't in sight, and the house had a palpable emptiness to it. This was a perfect opportunity to explore a bit, at least as far as his legs would carry him. But the empty hallway, even with the nightlight still burning, unsettled him. And for the first time in his adult life, he was genuinely afraid of being left alone.

Leaning against the wall, he stared at the crack of light defining the way to the hallway, and took a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. Then he moved with uncertain steps across the room and out into the corridor.

Okay, he told himself with some shame, that wasn't so hard now, was it? Now where to go?

A cool draught blew through the hallway and he shivered. The flannel pajamas he wore were warmer than anything he usually wore to bed, but he wished now that he had a bathrobe, as well. The muscles in his shoulders, already sore, tensed against the chill. He considered turning back, crawling into bed again, and escaping into sleep. But here was his chance to find out something about what was going on. He had to take it.

The door across the hall from him led to the bathroom. There were two other doors further along on this floor, one on either side of the corridor. The one next door to his own room would be the easier one to reach, so he moved along the wall until he could turn the doorknob.

***********************

The Reading turnoff was racing past. Two hours now, Alex had been driving with no goal but to get away from the Cladder Building and Rohrer. His hand was no longer shaking. Still, the sudden chirrup of his cell phone jolted him badly. He interrupted the third ring.

"What?" he asked gruffly, willing his voice not to tremble.

"Alex?" Smith questioned softly. "What's wrong? You don't sound right."

"I'm fine, Jem. What's up?"

"Where are you?"

Good question, Alex thought. He glanced at the bright green highway sign up ahead, stunned to realize how far he'd driven without being aware of it. "I'm about twenty minutes from the house. Maybe less," he added, with a glance at the speedometer. Amazing that he didn't get pulled over by now. "Why?"

"I'm on the way to the new compound," Smith told him. "They've found two more…"

"You left Mulder alone?"

"Take it easy, Alex," Smith reassured him. "Mulder was sound asleep when I checked in on him. And he hasn't been trying to escape or anything…"

"They could go after him," Alex pointed out.

But Smith didn't agree. "The military don't know where he is. And if the others want to get to him - well, you and I wouldn't be able to stop them, anyway."

The hell I wouldn't, Alex thought. At least I'd die trying.

Aloud, he said, "Fine. I'll be at the house in a few minutes. You go take care of the other abductees. I'll take care of Mulder."

"Alex?" Smith queried gently. "You do realize, don't you, that their lives are just as valuable as Agent Mulder's. I can't pretend that one human life is worth more than another. And I have to begin the healing in them, before it's too late."

"Do you think they've been implanted? That they're potential replicants?" The very word sent a tiny cold panic through Alex; he shook it off with annoyance.

Smith answered, "I expect so. Most of the ones we've seen lately have been."

"Mulder wasn't," Alex reminded him.

"Mulder was vaccinated."

Something else he hates me for, Alex thought with a grimace.

To Smith, he merely said, "Okay, then. Do what you've got to do. I'll take care of Mulder. See ya tomorrow." Before Smith could respond, Alex ended the connection. Home was only a few miles away.

***************************

He knew the instant he turned the door handle that this was Alex's room. The faint scent of Alex's cologne, of Alex himself, leather and soap…

But it was the little spiral notebook that caught his eye as if it glowed, that made him certain that this was Alex's room. From the day he'd met Alex - Krycek, he corrected himself - the man had always kept those little pocket-notebooks handy. One at his desk at the bureau, one in the glove compartment of his car, eventually one under his pillow at Mulder's apartment. Always one in his jacket pocket.

He would jot down any odd bits of information - notes for work, plans for a weekend, names of books he wanted to read. Any little fact that struck him as interesting. And Krycek had always found the oddest things interesting, and had the strangest facts available at his fingertips. It was one of the first things Mulder had loved about him.

God, he missed him sometimes.

When Krycek had disappeared from his life, he had even remembered to take the notebook from under his pillow…

Mulder placed one hesitant foot into the room. It looked much like his own, really. A simple double bed with an old, but clean, quilt covering plain white sheets, the small painted dresser and matching nightstand, the wooden straightback chair by the window, all very much the same. But Mulder's room didn't have a laptop, and there was no flashlight on Mulder's nightstand. No knife on Mulder's bureau, either. Yep, this was definitely Krycek's room.

Across from the doorway, the window vibrated lightly in the wind, startling him. His heart slammed against his ribs.

Another tentative step into the bedroom.

And his legs shook beneath his weight. Throwing one arm out to the side, he found the wall, and let himself collapse against it.

Damn, he thought. How long was he going to feel so weak?

The room was small - it would take only a few steps to get him to the bed. Determined, he moved another step forward. He was too far from the wall now, and not quite close enough to the bed, and when his legs again gave out, he fell to his knees. Exhausted, he just sat there in the middle of the floor for a moment and drew several more breaths.

Well, no dust on the floor, Mulder noted with wry amusement. He tilted his head and peeked under the bed. Nope, not even a dust bunny. Well, what do you expect? The man could clean up a crime scene so thoroughly that Luminol wouldn't pick up the bloodstains. Always was a neat-freak, he thought.

Mulder pulled himself back up. He wanted to check out that notebook. With his lungs shuddering at effort, he made the additional two steps to the bed and fell forward onto it with relief. The pillow on this side smelled like Alex. Mulder pressed his face into it and inhaled deeply.

Damn, he was so tired.

He shouldn't give in to this, he knew. It was only the soporific effects of his illness, and the vague unease at being alone, that was making him sentimental. Alex Krycek was a mistake from his past, and a curse that haunted his present and future. He was not worth missing. He was a cold-blooded remorseless killer with no loyalties but to himself. And Mulder should have known that from the beginning.

He'd only known Krycek for a few days when he'd seen the young man take a life - that really should have given him a clue, he thought ruefully. Alex had been shaken up at the time, not for ending a human life, but for having been fooled by Augustus Cole in the first place. On the ride back to DC, Alex had admitted as much. By the next day, the young killer had been determined to be more careful, but he'd never shown the least concern over the death.

And Mulder, who used to consider himself skilled at deciphering people, had believed that Alex was only denying his own sense of guilt. Not until months later did he realize that Alex was incapable of any guilt. But by then, Mulder had lost his soul to the man. And six years later, he still hadn't found a way to claim it back.

So here he was, confused and sick and lonely and frightened of being alone in a big dark house, and still finding comfort in the scent of Alex's pillow. God, he was pathetic. Maybe he should just give up and die right now.

He started again as the purr of an engine approached. Not the pickup, obviously, he thought. The Lexus, then?

A minor panic struck Mulder, and he jumped up. The sudden movement started the room flying wildly around his head.

But he needed to escape this room before Krycek found him in here. Two steps forward, and he was close enough to the doorframe to grab it for support. He extended his hand forward…

****************************

Alex pulled into the driveway with a soft screech of tires, killed the engine, and leapt over the porch railing in one fluid motion. Keys in hand, he let himself in to the house and paused, listening for any sound. Hearing nothing, he flicked on the stairwell light and ran for the upper level, taking the steps two at a time. Fox's door, usually only slightly ajar, was standing wide open. Alex froze.

Listening again, but still hearing nothing but wind, he tiptoed forward and peeked in to Fox's room. He wasn't there.

Alex automatically glanced over at the bathroom door, but it too stood wide open, and the light was off. He reached in to his coat pocket and withdrew a Glock, uncocked the safety, and began to move soundlessly down the hall. Next door to the bathroom, Smith's bedroom door was closed. But just beyond where he stood, Alex could see that the door to his own room also was open, a dark cavern in the wan light from the corridor. He continued toward it until he spotted the hand.

Fox lay face-down on the hard floor just inside the doorway.

And Alex's heart actually paused in its beating.

Until Fox moved.

Alex sucked in a great gulp of air as his pulse resumed its rhythm, and he dropped to his haunches beside Fox. Absently, he tossed a glance into his room; no one else was there, so he flipped on the overhead light.

Restoring the safety on his gun, he returned it to his jacket pocket and focused his attention back on his former lover. First he ran his hand over the man's skull, but there were no new lumps or wounds that he could find. He checked Fox's pulse, found it reasonably strong, if a bit too rapid, and gently turned the man over. Nodding to himself, he slipped his hand inside Fox's pajama top and spread his palm over the man's heart. It, too, seemed to be beating easily. He couldn't be sure whether Fox had passed out from exertion, or simply fallen asleep there. He removed his hand from Fox's chest and placed it against the man's forehead. No fever.

Well, may as well try to get him back to bed, he thought.

"Hey," he murmurred softly. "Wake up, sleepyhead."

Fox moaned, but didn't waken. Alex let his hand drift from Fox's forehead down his cheek.

"Come on, hon," he tried again. "This ain't no bed you're in." A deep breath escaped Fox, who turned his head sideways into the palm that still rested against his cheek. Alex swallowed, but didn't move his hand. From down the hall in Mulder's room, the chirp of his watch sounding the hour echoed back to them. Alex counted off the little bleets.

"Eleven o'clock, Mulder," he teased gently. "You planning to spend the rest of the night sleeping on the floor?"

It almost seemed as if Fox had nodded at the question. But Alex figured he must have been mistaken. Still, maybe he'd better explain this to him.

"You have to wake up, sweetheart," he told him gently. "It'd take me twenty minutes to carry you one-handed. And you probably wouldn't enjoy the experience, anyway. So come on, now. Please." He stroked Fox's face again, his thumb tracing the outline of the other man's jaw. Until he heard one word escape Fox's lips.

"Alex."

And Fox pressed his lips to Alex's palm in a quiet kiss.

Alex fell back, off his heels, into the bedroom door, and stared in awe at the other man.

He's still asleep, he reminded himself. He's just so exhausted that his mind can't even work right. When he opens his eyes, he won't even remember it. Or worse, he'll regret it. Don't let it mean anything to you, boy.

But it did.

Earlier tonight, the muted bell of an elevator reaching a basement had signaled safety, freedom, everything to Alex. He would've said then that that bell was the sweetest sound in the world.

He would have been wrong.

The sweetest sound was that soft moan of his own name on Fox Mulder's lips. Alex would've faced anything, even that elevator ride again, to hear that word once more in that tone. But now he could do nothing but stare.

****************************

It wasn't the first time Mulder had awakened to find himself lying on the floor. And it wasn't the first time he awoke to the sight of Alex Krycek watching him. But neither had happened in quite a while, and he couldn't recall them ever having both occurred at the same time.

The shrill chirp that had awakened him this time had apparently come from Krycek's cell phone. The younger man was sitting beside where Mulder lay, talking to someone he referred to as 'Jem'. The black coat he wore was damp on one side.

"No, I just got back a few minutes ago," Krycek was telling someone at the other end of the phone. His green eyes were on Mulder.

Mulder struggled to sit up but fell back dizzily. He breathed in and closed his eyes, preparing to try again. Before he could, though, he felt a hand touch his cheek. He opened his eyes. Krycek, phone to his ear, offered his good arm in support and Mulder silently accepted the help of his former lover to settle against the wall. Alex's eyes, as they met Mulder's, were solicitous and concerned, and Mulder had to look away.

Krycek continued into the phone, "Yeah, Mulder's fine. He was passed out on the floor of my room when I got here." For an instant anger shaded his voice, but it faded quickly at whatever was spoken to him from the other end of the phone line. "No, I guess he's okay now. But he shouldn't have been left alone, Jem."

Mulder leaned forward and hissed into Krycek's other ear, "I don't need a babysitter."

Krycek jerked away from him as if stung. He glanced quickly at Mulder, disconcerted, and then just as quickly turned back to the phone call. "How are the two new ones doing?"

Mulder didn't know who "the two new ones" were, or how Krycek wanted them to be doing, but clearly the response from the other side of the phone line was not good. The color drained rapidly from Alex's face, and he swallowed hard. Mulder tilted his head to catch Alex's eyes. Alex only shook his head and turned away from Mulder's questioning gaze.

Mulder leaned back and waited.

***************************

Alex wrapped up the call quickly and jammed the cell phone into his coat pocket. Fox was watching him, waiting for an explanation, but Alex merely returned the gaze wordlessly. Sorry, sweetheart, he thought. We're not talking about this tonight. I need to think first.

The new ones were fine, Smith had told him, but it was a close call. We almost didn't get them in time, he'd said.

And Alex remembered the replicants. And Rohrer.

He stood and shrugged out of his coat, tossed it on the bed, and turned back to Fox.

"Think you can make it back to your own room?" he asked.

Fox thought about it a minute, then answered honestly, "Not really, no."

"That's okay. You can take my room," Alex offered. "I'll take yours." He extended his hand to help the older man up. "C'mon, Mulder. You'll be more comfortable on the bed than on the floor."

Fox took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled easily off the floor. But once standing, he continued to hold on to Alex, studying his eyes with that intensity he so often gave things.

"What's going on around here, Krycek? Where is Jeremiah Smith?" Fox demanded in a low voice.

Krycek. Oh well, I knew it was too good to be true.

Alex gently drew his hand free from Fox's. "Smith is just down the road a way. At a compound that we set up there a couple of months ago."

Fox waited expectantly until Alex continued. "For abductees. Smith heals them."

A spark of interest lit Fox's hazel eyes. He leaned in closer to Alex. "Abductees? As in 'abducted by aliens' abductees?"

"Yeah, 'abducted by aliens'," Alex said, backing away. He took his coat from the bed and hung it in the closet. "What do you think he's got down there, a half-way house?"

"Where's he find them?" Fox wanted to know. He yawned, but his eyes still glittered.

Alex shrugged as he closed the closet door. "He's got people who work with him. They find them all over. Anyplace there's been a sighting, they go investigate. Sometimes they find someone. Sometimes they don't." He snatched up his laptop from the nightstand. "I guess it must be hard to tell whether a sighting is a pick-up or a drop-off."

He turned again to Fox, just as the older man tried to stifle another yawn. Alex shook his head softly and said in a more gentle voice, "Look. You're tired again. Lie down and get some rest." And with that, he nudged Fox lightly, and the older man dropped into a sitting position on the bed.

Fox mumbled sulkily. "That's all I ever do." But the bed felt, oh, so comfortable, and Fox swung his legs up onto it, as well.

"Right now, that's all you can do," Alex pointed out with a sympathetic grin. To his astonishment, Fox grinned back.

"But I do it well, don't I?"

"Better than anyone else I know," Alex told him, giving him a wink. He jerked his head to indicate the bed. "Off with you, now. If you need anything, give a shout, okay?"

***************************

Mulder held down another yawn as Krycek headed out of the room, but as the younger man made a move to switch off the overhead light, Mulder felt his earlier uneasiness return. And he was loathe to let Krycek leave him alone.

He paused in the act of pulling the covers over himself and called softly,

"Alex?"

At the sound of the name, Krycek's hand froze midway toward the light switch. He glanced over his shoulder at Mulder, a peculiar shocked expression in his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Are you going to work on your laptop for a while?"

Krycek nodded. "Why?"

"Would you stay in here?" The request was out of his mouth before he knew he was about to ask it.

Krycek looked even more stunned than before, and Mulder instantly regretted the question. There must be any number of reasons that Krycek would want to turn him down. And certainly he himself shouldn't want Krycek's company. The man had betrayed him too deeply. So why the instinct to reach out to him?

Krycek answered slowly, "I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Oh. Okay," Mulder shrugged. "No big deal." He let his head fall back on the pillow. "I'm pretty sleepy, anyway." He was, too. But still, as Krycek nodded and turned again to go, Mulder added, "Leave the light on?"

And this time, when Krycek returned his gaze to Mulder, there was a new concern in his eyes. He moved closer to the bed and looked down on the older man.

"Are you afraid?" he asked gently.

Mulder hesitated, then nodded. He should probably be too humiliated to admit this, he thought. To anybody else, he would be. But this wasn't anybody else. Alex Krycek could make him feel all kinds of things, but embarrassment wasn't among them. They'd shared too much for that.

Krycek moved around to the other side of the bed and kneeled gingerly on it. He leaned forward, his green eyes locking on Mulder's. "Alright," he murmurred. "I'll stay if you want."

And God, Mulder wanted to touch him just then, to connect with him and melt into him, to burrow into the concern and the comfort he saw in those dark, expressive eyes.

But he only nodded softly. "Thanks. It's silly, I know. I'll probably be asleep in two minutes, but…"

"It's okay. Just rest, I'll stay."

As Krycek shifted, settled back against the headboard, Mulder rolled over onto his stomach. He turned his head so that he could see the other man through one eye. For a moment, he was reminded of those nights six years earlier, when sleeping beside this man was a regular occurrence. But those nights were in the past, and Mulder felt their loss as keenly as if for the first time. He sighed, and slid his arms under the pillow as he breathed in its scent. Shame to have Krycek so close, and still have to rely on a pillow for comfort.

Krycek propped the laptop on his knees as he opened it up. The small sounds of the system coming to life were soothing to Mulder, and he closed his eyes wearily.

"I wish I wasn't so tired all the time," he mumbled into Krycek's pillow.

Krycek chuckled. "Don't worry. You're getting better. A couple of months ago you couldn't even recognize me or Smith, and now look at you. Holding conversations and everything. Another few weeks, you'll be strong enough to belt me in the mouth again."

Mulder opened one eye and looked askance at Krycek. "I don't want to hit you," he murmurred.

Krycek quirked an eyebrow. "Good," he said lightly. " 'Cause I don't want to be hit." He wrinkled his nose in a funny grin at Mulder, and Mulder couldn't help grinning back. The thought crossed his mind that he should say good-night now to Krycek, but he was so tired…

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