See disclaimers and notes in Part One.

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

Seconds
By Tiramisu

Part Six:

Mulder stirred his coffee restlessly, eyes scanning the list of websites Alex had left with him. This had become his morning routine now, checking for updates on this handful of sites and bulletin boards that Alex and his associates used. At first, Mulder had appreciated the assignment, both as a palliative to boredom and as a gesture of trust from his lover. But as the days passed and the agent's strength returned, Mulder found himself anxious for more of a role in what Alex called 'the war'. With the laptop in front of him on the kitchen table, he began skimming the morning's news.

Howard Salt's death had been replaced in the headlines last week by Absalom's death, and Mulder had found himself with the opportunity to learn a bit more about Scully's new partner, John Doggett. He knew that Alex still considered the man an unknown quantity; Doggett's association with Rohrer troubled him, and the agent's disbelief in the conspiracy made him unpredictable and untrustworthy. But Alex did admit that Doggett's concern for Scully seemed genuine, and Mulder found himself predisposed to like the man for that. And he had seen the news coverage of Doggett after Absalom's death. Whatever John Doggett believed about the conspiracy, he clearly found it abhorrent that Absalom had been killed the way he had. In time, Mulder suspected, he could be made to understand the truth.

He swallowed a mouthful of the lukewarm coffee, grimacing at its bitter taste. Across the table from him, Jeremiah Smith glanced up from his newspaper, about to speak, and smiled instead. "That bad, is it?"

Mulder shook his head, embarrassed. "I just let it get too cold," he admitted. Nodding at the newspaper under Smith's hand, he asked, "You find something there?"

"Possibly," Smith told him. "I don't suppose Alex has made it all the way to Wiekamp yet? He may be able to look into these while he's there."

"He only left a couple of hours ago," Mulder reminded the other man. "He's probably still on the highway. What have you got?" he asked, leaning over the table to see headline of the story in question. Smith pushed the paper toward him helpfully, turning it around for Mulder's benefit. Then he reached for one of the other newspapers on the chair and placed it beside the first one.

"Go ahead," the older man said.

Mulder looked at the two articles, picked up the first one.

" 'Arlington Woman Killed in House Fire'," he read aloud. He skimmed the short article. The woman was alone in the house, asleep, at the time. The fire was attributed to faulty wiring; she and her husband had recently had their home renovated in anticipation of the birth of their first child.

So?

"Was she one of the six?" Mulder wondered aloud.

Smith nodded. "Yes. Due any day, as well."

"I take it you don't believe this was a simple accident, then."

"I don't know," Smith confessed. "But it bears looking into. Alex's contact at Wiekamp is involved in the project at Zeus Genetics. He may be able to tell us something."

Mulder frowned, scanning the story a second time. "It doesn't make sense, though," he pointed out. "Why would the military kill one of their own experiments?"

"I don't know that they would," Smith acknowledged. "Although there's a chance that they want to test the viability of an embryo not carried to term. The story does not actually mention the state of woman's pregnancy, nor the condition of the child."

Skeptical, Mulder handed the newspaper back to Smith. "The military doesn't need to kill the mother," he argued. "They could just arrange for her to be hospitalized, and then take the baby, claiming complications. It seems more likely that the replicants are responsible for this fire."

"That is a possibility, as well," the older man agreed. "I'm hoping Alex can find that out."

A flash of resentment struck Mulder, and he opened his mouth to object. He didn't like the idea of all of this being put upon his lover. Alex had too utilitarian a view of his own life as it was.

But Smith merely nodded his head at the other newspaper, still by Mulder's hand.

Sighing, the agent turned to the second article. " 'Oil Rig Blowout Turns Deadly'," he began.

Oil?

Mulder shot a glance at the healer, but Smith said nothing. Mulder turned back to the article and continued reading aloud:

"The body of one of two men who disappeared Tuesday following an explosion on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico has been recovered off the coast of Texas. Simon de la Cruz worked for GalPex Petroleum from 1999 until his death Tuesday on the GalPex rig, Orpheus. De la Cruz, a Mexican national, was found with flash burns covering more than 90% of his body…"

Mulder paused, an uneasy thought creeping into his mind. He'd seen this before. And if Smith has singled out this article as well, he reasoned, then this is not just paranoia.

He looked up and met the older man's somber blue eyes. "Radiation?" he asked.

"I think it may be," Smith confirmed for him. "According to that article, GalPex had just recently tapped in to a new supply of oil in the Gulf of Mexico, and - "

" - and you think it's black oil," Mulder finished for him.

"I think there's a chance of it, yes."

Mulder considered the possibility, skimming the rest of the article. The facts certainly fit. And if that oil got loose….

"Any idea how GalPex stumbled on to this oil?"

Smith shook his head. "Could be coincidence, I imagine. Or it could be that they were led to it. I've got people looking for abductees all the time, but we don't find them all. The ones that transform into replicants can blend in to society quite easily. There may be one or more of them working at GalPex. At other refineries, too, for that matter. It would be a logical field for them to penetrate, when you think about it."

Mulder rested his head in his hands, the enormity of that possibility sinking in.

We're not going to win, he thought. They've got too much of a head start on us…

"…if Alex can learn something from his contacts," Smith was saying.

Mulder glanced up with a start.

"What?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he said, "No. I don't want Alex anywhere near that rig."

"I have no intention of asking him to go down to the Gulf, Agent Mulder," Smith assured him. "I am well aware of Alex's previous encounter with the oil. No, I would only send someone who has already been vaccinated against it. If I can't find anyone appropriate, I'll go myself."

Mulder nodded, mollified. But how many options did that leave? he wondered. How many of Smith's assorted contacts were vaccinated, or could be vaccinated on such short notice? As far as Mulder knew, the vaccine was still only being produced in Russia, and very little of it there, according to Alex. No, there couldn't be too many people available with the prerequisites to handle this situation.

Mulder studied the healer thoughtfully. If Alex were here right now, he'd veto instantly the suggestion Mulder was about to make. But Smith understood the necessity of the risks; he might be willing to allow it. If not, Mulder would just have to do this on his own.

"Smith…"

The older man looked at him curiously.

"I've been vaccinated."

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

Alex sat across from General McCarniss, his expression carefully neutral, pondering the general's request. As assignments went, this one would be easy. It required little time, no extra traveling. No extra contact with the replicants. And it gave him yet another contact, one which would be right there on the scene with Scully.

Yeah, Alex thought. He could accept this assignment. The entire arrangement suited him well. But he wouldn't let McCarniss know that too soon. He wanted more information first.

"Why do you need a second operative in there at all?" he quizzed the general. "You've already got Mulder in place. I thought the whole point of these clones of yours was to protect those women."

"It is. But Agent Scully is due to give birth within the next few weeks," McCarniss told him. "We want to make absolutely certain that nothing will go wrong. And Mulder has been behaving somewhat unpredictably lately. We don't want to take any chances."

Alex shook off the uneasy prickle those words caused in him. Sitting back, he asked mildly, "Unpredictable, how?"

The general studied him for a moment, then leaned forward across his desk.

"We have reason to believe that he stole information from Howard Salt's computer," McCarniss confided. "There's a chance that he has begun to work with, or for, someone else. We don't actually know who's side he's on anymore."

Oh, fuck.

"We already have people looking into it, but if there's a need for your particular skills," the general smiled in a conspiratorial manner, "I'll let you know."

Maintaining his disinterested look with effort, Alex asked, "Do you think there's anything to worry about with him?"

"Let's just say that we're keeping an eye on the situation."

McCarniss rose. His perfectly straight back and direct eyes would have betrayed his position as a military man, even if he hadn't been in uniform. Most people found him intimidating.

Alex stretched and stood up leisurely.

"Come along," the general told him. "I want you to meet your new colleague. She's not military, but she has handled similar assignments in the past. She's also an excellent scientist," he added. "I assume you agree to serve as her back-up if necessary?"

"Yes." Alex followed McCarniss out the door and along the sterile corridor. He couldn't afford not to agree, now.

Who could the clone be working with?

The general strode aggresively, his heels clicking rhythmically on the tile floor. Alex, walking alongside him, was soundless.

They came to a stop outside the laboratory door. "We're going to try to get her into position as soon as we can," McCarniss told Alex. "With luck, we'll have her in place by the end of the week." He pushed open the lab door, leading Alex inside.

The redhead at the long table hardly looked like a scientist, but Alex had long since ceased to be surprised by appearances. He stepped forward as the general introduced them.

"Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Alex Krycek. He'll be your contact during your next assignment. Krycek, meet Elizabeth Gill."

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

The sunglasses were comfortable, but the hat felt strange to Mulder. Neither, in his opinion, formed much of a disguise. But Smith had insisted on them; they were, he said, enough to hide Mulder's face from the airport cameras while subtle enough not to draw attention to him.

"I feel like a cologne advertisement," Mulder quipped. His traveling companion led him to a pair of seats near the window, away from most of the passengers.

Smith gave him a gentle smile. "You're fine," he assured him. "We need to keep you unrecognized, though, until you get on board the Orpheus. This is the simplest way to accomplish that."

Mulder stared out the airport window, watching the 727 as it approached the docking gate. "You know," he told Smith, "you really don't have to come along. I can handle this. I may be rusty, but I do know what I'm doing."

"I know," Smith admitted easily. "I won't be following you onto the oil rig. But I'd like to be nearby, in case I can be of use. Besides," he added without emotion, "I rather think that if I return to the house without you, Alex won't allow me to live."

To his surprise, Mulder felt a blush creep into his cheeks. He ducked his head and turned to watch the progress of the plane out the window.

So Smith did know about them, he figured. He wasn't really surprised; he and Alex weren't always as circumspect as they might be, and Smith wasn't a particularly naïve individual.

Well, at least it doesn't seem to bother him, Mulder thought with relief.

He returned his gaze to the healer. "How long have you known Alex?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh, quite a few years," Smith told him. "Since he was in his teens. He and Jeffrey Spender were schoolmates. He stopped by to visit Cassandra once when she was in the hospital. I happened to be visiting her at the same time."

Mulder frowned, interested. "Did he know about the aliens, back then?"

Smith considered the question. "He knew that Cassandra believed herself to be an abductee. But he didn't know about the conspiracy. He's been learning about that in stages, over the years. As you and I have."

"As you have?" Mulder repeated, dubious. "You know a lot more about it than I do," he pointed out.

"Not really," his companion corrected him soberly. "I'm only trying to fight them, just as you are."

The two men paused as the attendant called their flight. Rising, Smith said, "Come along, Agent Mulder." He picked up the overnight case that held both men's clothing and toiletries, then turned and studied Mulder, appraising him once more. "Are you sure you're up to this? If you feel…"

"No, I'm okay," Mulder assured him as he stood up. He looked down at the ticket in his hand and a surge of adrenaline flooded him. He was back in the game.

"Let's go."

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

The pick-up was gone when Alex pulled into the driveway. In itself, that wouldn't be unusual; Smith often headed over to the compound early in the evening, since Fox was almost fully recovered. But the house itself was completely dark, and that was unusual. Even if Fox had gone to bed early, he would have left a light on for Alex or Smith.

He let himself into the house and stood, listening, just inside the doorway.

The house was empty, that much he knew. He'd learned long ago to trust his instincts on such matters. Nevertheless, moving to the base of the stairs, he paused again and listened for any movement. Silence.

Alex climbed the stairs soundlessly, his eyes peering through the darkness into the open doorway of the room at the top of the stairs - the room he and Fox now shared.

The bedroom was empty, the bed made. He checked the other upstairs rooms, but found nothing.

Returning to Fox's room, Alex switched on the bedside lamp. Where the hell is he? he wondered. He wouldn't have just left, would he? Somewhere inside, Alex knew it was possible. Sooner or later, he'd told himself, Fox was going to come to his senses and Alex would lose him. It was only a matter of time.

But would he have left now?

He stared across the room at the top of the painted bureau. There was nothing on it. The picture of them at Lake Champlain was gone.

This morning, before Alex had left, Fox had again told him that the past didn't matter. It had become a daily mantra for his lover; spoken in Fox's deceptively unemotional voice, it was that man's offer of love and trust, his promise of forgiveness. But it was always delivered in the context of Alex's attempts to keep Scully safe, and at heart he knew that the forgiveness only extended that far.

Fox had stopped accusing Alex of William Mulder's death, but that didn't mean the issue had gone away. Not to Alex, at least.

He stood there now, beside the bed they'd shared this past month, and turned to face the door of the closet. If Fox had left, he would have taken at least some clothes with him. Swallowing, Alex took the two steps to the door, looked into the closet.

It didn't look as though anything was missing. Possibly his grey pullover, but that could be sitting in the laundry bin downstairs. Certainly, not much else was missing.

He checked the dresser drawers. Nothing missing here, either.

Alex let out a deep breath. Alright, he thought, so maybe Fox hasn't left me. Where is he?

Fumbling in his pocket, Alex drew out his cell phone. With his thumb, he punched in the numbers for Jeremiah Smith's line and headed downstairs.

Maybe Fox had accompanied Smith to the compound.

But the voice that greeted him over the phone was not his friend's. Alex paused on the step, listening in disbelief as the telephone recording played through.

Out of range? Where the hell would Smith go that was out of range?

Damn it. Where were they?

Reaching the lower landing, he flipped on the switches for the overhead hallway and kitchen lights. He glanced into the kitchen, knowing he'd find no one there.

It wasn't until he turned on the desk lamp in the living room that he saw the note.

Alex -

Smith and I will be gone for a couple of days. Don't worry, everything's fine.

Fox

Fuck.

Don't worry, everything's fine? Alex crumpled the note angrily. What the hell were they thinking? If anyone spotted Fox and the clone in different places at the same time, Fox Mulder's life was over. Hell, from what McCarniss had said today, even if Fox were believed to be the clone, he could become a target.

And now I'll have to make sure the clone is occupied all day tomorrow, he thought. Damn.

Setting his cell phone on the desk, he shrugged out of his jacket. The Glock fell out of his pocket as he tossed the coat onto the sofa, and he picked it up, feeling suddenly very weary.

They could have told him where they were going. They could have trusted him that far.

He wandered tiredly out to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of orange juice from the refrigerator. On the table he noticed his laptop, along with the morning's papers. The newspaper on top was folded back as though someone had focused on that article. Curious, Alex picked it up and read the headline.

And felt the blood freeze in his veins.

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

He hadn't realized how much he'd come to think of the little house as 'home' until he drove up to it two days later. He'd been away from the house before, of course; he often accompanied Alex to the supermarket, and twice now they'd gone into Reading for clothes and supplies. But he hadn't been far away, and he hadn't been gone for one night, let alone two.

And he hadn't slept away from Alex since they'd gotten back together last month.

It was amazing, he thought, how quickly you could get used to having someone there beside you at night.

As he steered the pick-up into the driveway, Mulder spotted Alex on the porch. Barefoot in a pair of well-worn jeans, he was sitting on the porch step, his head resting against the railing. His flannel shirt hung loose, unbottoned.

He didn't move as Mulder stepped out of the car.

Well, Mulder figured, it's not like you didn't know he'd be upset. He crossed the drive , approaching his lover on the porch hesitantly, wary.

"Hi," he said softly, greeting him with an uncertain smile. "Am I still welcome?"

His lover cast expressionless eyes on him, asking him quietly, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Mulder assured him. He sat beside his lover on the step and brought his hand to the back of Alex's neck, taking him in a gentle grip. "Are you angry?"

"Yes," Alex told him.

"Will you forgive me?"

Alex nodded solemnly. "For anything. But you shouldn't have done it, Fox. We're supposed to be in this together. You should have told me what you were up to."

"You would have fought me on it," Mulder pointed out. "You wouldn't have let me go."

"Damn straight," Alex agreed vehemently. "That black oil is serious shit. I don't want you anywhere near it."

Mulder scowled. "It's because it's serious that I had to go. We both know what that oil is about. Someone had to contain it to that rig…"

"That someone didn't have to be you, dammit!"

"Why not?" Mulder argued reasonably. "It made a lot more sense than letting you go."

"The hell it does," Alex countered. "I've got more experience with this stuff than you do."

"But I've been vaccinated against it and you haven't," Mulder pointed out. "Alex, that oil's been in you. We don't know what any further contact with it would do to you."

He broke off as Alex paled, staring at Mulder.

"I couldn't let you take that chance," Mulder said quietly. Shedding his jacket, he tossed it onto the railing.

His lover drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. "You knew about that?"

Mulder shrugged. "I was there with you, Alex. We rode the whole flight home from Hong Kong together. You think I didn't notice?"

Alex shook his head, uncertainty behind the natural defiance in his eyes. Mulder reached out, stroked the man's hair.

"It's why you won't let Smith heal your arm, isn't it?" he questioned gently. "You're afraid it'll bring it back or wake it up or something."

Alex nodded.

"And Smith doesn't know what it'll do, either."

"No."

So you just live with it, Mulder thought. All this time…

"Then don't you see why I couldn't let you go? Why I didn't want to let you risk it?"

Alex shrugged. "I could have handled it," he maintained.

"But you didn't have to," Mulder insisted, frustrated. "You said yourself, we're in this together now. That means we look out for each other. It doesn't mean you just take care of me."

"I don't want you to get hurt again," his lover told him softly.

Mulder brought his hand to Alex's face, lightly tracing the curve of the stubbled jaw with his thumb. "I know. But you can't take on all of the dangerous work yourself. If we're partners, we share the risks. And, plain and simple, it was less dangerous for me to go."

He took Alex's face in both hands, leaned forward so that their foreheads touched, rubbed the tip of his nose against his lover's. "Hey," he murmurred, "we haven't seen each other in two whole days. Are we gonna spend all afternoon fighting, or can we go inside and make up now?"

And before Alex could answer, Mulder leaned in and kissed him.

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

"It was still a stupid thing to do," Alex argued into the phone. "The least you could have done was check with me first…"

"Neither of us felt that speaking with you about it would have been constructive, Alex," Smith told him patiently. "You tend to let your feelings get in the way where Agent Mulder is concerned - "

Alex glared across the kitchen at Fox, who stood fixing sandwiches at the counter. "And don't call him 'Agent' anymore. Thanks to the two of you and this stupid frigging stunt, Fox Mulder's been fired from the bureau."

The silence on the other end of the line told Alex that he'd made his point.

"The damned clone was already aggravating the guys at Wiekamp," he informed the healer. "You two may have sealed its death warrant."

"Does 'Mr' Mulder know that?" Smith asked.

"Oh, sure," Alex answered tiredly. "He knows. He's so bothered by it all, he's making lunch."

Fox turned to glance at Alex, giving his lover a fierce grin. Alex scowled in return, and Fox's grin quickly faded into uncertainty.

"Look, Smith," Alex continued, "are you going to need a ride back here tonight, or you want to wait until tomorrow?"

"I think I'll remain at the compound tonight, Alex," Smith replied. Alex heard the trace of amusement in the placid voice. He told the older man angrily, "Fine, then. Call in the morning when you're ready to go." Closing the connection abruptly, he slammed the cell phone onto the countertop.

Fox winced at the sound.

"You know, great sex usually puts you in a better mood than this," he joked. He put a plate full of sandwiches on the table and sat opposite Alex.

The younger man selected one of the sandwiches and bit into it without a word, his eyes meeting his lover's with a reluctant smile.

Fox raised an eyebrow expectantly. "It was great sex, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was," Alex admitted. "At least we have that going for us."

***********

The porch faced east, like their bedroom window upstairs. In the afternoons, with the heavy growth of trees around the house, the porch often appeared to be in twilight even while the rest of the house still glowed with sunlight.

The porch was darkening now in the late afternoon, but Alex made no move to come in. So Mulder finally decided to step outside.

"You're looking thoughtful," he spoke, pushing open the screen door. "Mind some company?"

Alex leaned against the railing, staring out at the dirt road in the direction of the compound. If he moved his head, Mulder didn't see it. Crossing the threshold onto the porch, Mulder stood beside his lover, leaning against the railing, leaning into Alex.

He slipped one arm around Alex; drawing his body up against his lover's, he pressed his lips to the other man's neck with a slow, deliberate pause to graze his cheek against Alex's stubbled jaw.

Alex didn't pull away, but he didn't press in against Mulder as he usually did.

"Still angry?" Mulder asked him.

"I'm not angry, Fox," Alex spoke tiredly. "I'm just trying to figure out what to do."

Mulder nodded, more to himself than to his lover. "I was thinking about that, too," he told the younger man. "If my double really is reporting to someone other than your contact, maybe I'd be in a better position than you to find that out. If I go back to DC…"

"If you go back to DC," Alex stated flatly, "you're as good as dead."

Mulder shook his head. "Not necessarily. If you can keep the clone out of the way, then maybe no one will know that I'm not it. You can tip me off to what your contact expects, and I can play out the rest of it myself."

"Fox," Alex sighed, "my contact is not the only one who knows about the clone. All of the people involved in that project know about it. And I don't know who all of them are, or how many of them there are, or what they may be watching for."

Mulder thought about that.

"Well," he suggested, "you may be able to find out from your contact…"

"My contact," Alex reminded him harshly, "is on the verge of having that clone eliminated. Whether they think you're the clone, or know that you're you, they're still likely to kill you. And you're not going to be much good to anyone if you're dead, so forget it."

Mulder swore under his breath. Turning from Alex, he gazed off past the fringe of trees, out to where the last of the sunlight still struck the road.

The hell of it was, Alex was right.

"You know," he told the younger man, "you can't expect me to just do nothing while you handle everything yourself." With a glance at Alex, he asked, "Are we partners or aren't we?"

Alex didn't answer.

Mulder turned, examining the other man curiously. "Alex?"

His lover shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I want us to be. But I'm beginning to doubt if it will work. There are too many things we don't talk to each other about…"

Mulder let out a soft, frustrated sigh. "If this is about my going down to the Gulf - "

Shaking his head, Alex said, "It's not. Not just that, anyway." He hands and face grew animated as he tried to explain. "Fox, we're fighting aliens that can change what they look like. We're…we're fighting replicants that we haven't even found a way to kill. We're fighting our own government. We can't be fighting each other."

Mulder stared, puzzled. Alex's eyes narrowed as his voice grew more intense, more desperate.

"Don't you see? If we're going to work together, we've got to be able to trust each other completely. Believe in each other. Right now, I don't think we have that. You'll do things without keeping me posted, thinking it's better that way, but it's not. So I won't be able to count on you. And you already feel that you can't count on me, because you don't believe what I say…"

"Damn it, Alex," Mulder countered angrily, "you can count on me. If you would agree not to shut me out of the fight, we'll be able to talk next time - the way normal partners do. But that's up to you. You're not laying the blame for that at my feet." He heard his voice resounding in the quiet afternoon; taking a breath, he forced himself to calm down.

"Don't you think you can offer me that much to work with?"

He waited until Alex gave a reluctant nod before continuing.

"And I've already told you a dozen times that I do trust you now. I see how hard you're trying to protect her. But you still don't believe me, do you?"

The bowed head was his only answer.

Damn, he thought, exasperated. We've got to get past this.

"Alex." Mulder gripped Alex's chin, forcing the younger man to look at him. "Listen to me. We can't carry this with us forever - it'll tear us apart. And I can't lose you again. I won't survive it. Whatever your part in her abduction, it's long since in the past. And I've let it go. I don't hold it against you any more. Would you please tell me what the hell can I say to make you understand that?"

"I do understand that, Fox," Alex spoke quietly. "You've put aside what's happened to Scully."

Alex broke away from Mulder's grasp and crossed the porch. Reaching the side railing, he gazed out past trees, to the fields beyond. His back was to Mulder.

"Scully is alive, Fox," he said. "It's easier to forgive what's happened to her. But what happened to her is not all there is."

Mulder blinked at the back of Alex's head, startled by the implication. He'd known they'd have to address it sooner or later. They both had known that. But he didn't expect Alex to be the one to decide to broach it. Normally, he shied away from the past.

The past couple of days had been difficult, the flights to and from the Gulf long and tiring. Earlier this afternoon, he and Alex had made love, but Alex's mood was still dark. Mulder really didn't want to deal with this now. He just wanted his lover to get past this current argument, past the hurt he was feeling over Mulder's handling of the oil rig situation.

He wanted to know that Alex wouldn't leave him again.

But as he followed Alex to the other railing, the bleak look in the green eyes changed his mind. He had done something to this man when he took off on his own. Whatever fragile hope Alex had begun to have in their relationship had been damaged. He had to handle this now.

Leaning against the railing, his back to the outside world, he tried once more to reassure the younger man.

"Pay attention to me, Alex," he began carefully, "I said it's all in the past. All of it. And I mean that. You knew long before I did that we were in a war with them. That there would be casualties. Maybe it just couldn't be helped…"

"You don't get it," Alex interrupted, turning to face Mulder directly. "Look at you. You can't even say the words now. When you were mad at me - when you hated me - you could look me in the eye and accuse me. It hurt you, but you could do it."

Alex's eyes locked on Mulder's. "I hated the way it hurt you. I tried for years to get you to believe that I didn't do it. That I didn't kill your father. But you wouldn't let yourself believe it. And with good reason," Alex told him ruthlessly. "Because you knew me. Because you knew the truth."

A peculiar twinge of fear struck Mulder, but he pushed it aside. He held the other man's gaze steadily.

"Is that what it would take, then?" he asked. "Is that what you want me to say? That I believe you didn't kill my father?"

"No." Alex's eyes met Mulder's, relentlessly. "No, Fox. I want you to say that you love me even though I did."

And in that one brief moment, Mulder felt the world turn upside-down.

He had always known it, he told himself. He had known…

But always, in the back of his mind, Alex's denials would replay themselves. And over the past month, sleeping beside this man, making love to him, he'd let himself hear those denials, and believe a little bit. He'd forgiven the rest of it. He thought he'd forgiven this, too. But had he only taught himself not to believe it?

He stared at Alex now.

"Did you?" he murmurred.

"Yes." Alex admitted, meeting Mulder's eyes with a touch of defiance.

Yes.

And in the midst of the anguish that word caused Mulder, he saw the fear in the other man's eyes. Alex wasn't only demanding absolute acceptance, absolute trust; he was offering it. In that one word, Alex had placed his entire life in Mulder's hands. While most people find it terrifying to commit their hearts to another, Alex had handed his over, along with every tomorrow he would have, to a man who at any moment of the rest of their lives could choose to send him to the gas chamber with that confession.

He had said it to Mulder once before - he'd never ask of anyone else a sacrifice he wasn't willing to make himself.

Damn. Even in a demonstration of trust, Alex Krycek played with fire.

His father hadn't been a good man, Mulder knew. He'd been a traitor to every cause he claimed to believe in. He'd been a sponsor of horrendous experiments on innocent people. He'd sold out his own daughter, handed her over to the enemy. And he'd let his son carry the burden of guilt for it. But he was his father.

Alex had killed him.

Alex stood away from him now. "You can't say it, can you?" he asked quietly.

Mulder opened his mouth, trying to speak. He wanted to say it. He had to say it. But no words came out. I need time, he thought. Just give me a little time...

Alex hung his head, turned, walked past Mulder toward the steps.

Don't leave again. God, don't let him leave again.

Mulder spun around, grabbed his lover's arm, instinctively reaching for the right one.

"Alex."

Alex stopped. Head still bowed, he peered up at Mulder through thick lashes. Mulder brought his hand to the younger man's face, cupping the chin and gently guiding Alex's head upright. Alex never took his eyes off him.

"I love you, Alex."

Mulder stared into the green eyes, determined to meet that gaze without looking away. He had to be able to say this, because Alex needed to hear it. And because he meant it.

"I love you, Alex," he repeated softly, his voice shaking. "Even though you did it. Even though you killed my father."

The tears began then. And he was on his knees, Alex holding him, sobs wracking his body as they hadn't in years. He cried for his father, for Scully, for Melissa. For Samantha, gone from him forever now. And he cried for Alex, and for the six years they'd lost.

They were still there long after the sun went down.

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