Until then, Mulder had one last night to say goodbye to his old life. He planned to spend the evening eating take out and watching a marathon of his favorite sci-fi B movies. He settled into his customary spot on the couch with a familiar white carton full of steaming noodles and meat, fired up the TV and opened his laptop to check his email. There, nestled between UFOnet posts and enticements to enlarge his penis, was mail from Queequeg0925. He grinned to himself and opened it, expecting final instructions from Scully. There was no way he could have been prepared for what he read:

"Mulder, I am trembling as I write this. You know you are my closest and dearest friend and that I will love you as a friend forever. Throughout this past week I’ve done nothing but tend to William and think. The clean sea air has brought me more clarity than I’ve had in years. I don't want to string you along and drag this out, so I'll just get right to it.

"My dear friend, we both know this isn't going to work. As much as we care for each other, it's not the kind of relationship either of us really wants or needs. I want to try again, away from the X-Files and D.C. I want a new start on my life. I deserve that. My son deserves that."

"And Mulder, you deserve it too. I know it hurt to lose the FBI and I know this is hurting you too, but it really is for the best. You have always wanted something I can't give you. Now you have the opportunity to find it. There is someone out there who is perfect for you. Someone who will actually enjoy chasing ghosts and monsters with you. Someone who understands your need for adventure. No, I don't have a clue who it is or where they are. Just call it my 'woman's intuition,' Mulder. I have to set us both free."

He couldn’t read any further.

"Just great," thought Mulder. Yet another person sucked out of his life. What the hell was he? The universe's designated Goodbye Boy?

Mulder stared at the computer screen despondently for several minutes then turned it off and closed it. "What am I going to do now?" thoughts flittered through his mind, but they were far too frightening to confront.

He ate his food without tasting it and spent the rest of the night sitting on his couch, staring at the TV and trying not to think. Several hours later, a knock on his door startled him awake. "Oh yeah, Frohike," he mumbled.

"You look like you died again," Frohike exclaimed.

"Yeah. Hello to you too. And I think I did," Mulder said. "I'm ... I don't know. Scully dumped me, I think."

"Scully dumped you? Why? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. I don't even know how I feel about it. Maybe I can just stay here."

"Do I still get your porn collection?" Frohike asked.

Only the sound of the front door opening kept Mulder from smacking Frohike upside the head. Mulder watched the door open, his eyes growing wide. Fuck! It was Alex Krycek! But that was impossible. Krycek was dead.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mulder asked.

"As of today Mulder, I live here," replied Krycek.

"You can't live here, Krycek. I live here. Besides, you're dead."

Turning to Frohike, Krycek pointed to himself and asked, "do I look dead?"

Frohike's mouth opened and closed, soundlessly.

"Stop that. You look like one of Mulder's fish. I was dead, but I'm not dead any more. I would think that you, of all people, would understand that Mulder. The rebels keep a sort of medical squad of healers handy. They still need me, so they revived me. And here I am."

"Okay, I'll accept that little story for the sake of argument," said Mulder. "And here you are. That doesn't explain what you're doing here."

"I subleased your apartment when I heard it was available. I'm tired of living on the run. I thought I might as well live someplace familiar."

"Well even if you aren't dead, you can't live here! I take back my sublease!"

"Mulder, you can't do that, legally. I've rented the place. Now get out of here. Go hang with your weirdo geek buddies. Those Three Stooges or whatever they are."

Frohike bristled. Mulder stalked towards Krycek, fist raised. "The Lone Gunmen, you asshole. Now get the hell out of my apartment."

"You get the hell out of my apartment, Mulder." Krycek pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket. "You see this? This is a signed lease." He unfolded the paper and held it inches from Mulder's face.

"I'm not leaving."

"I'm not leaving, either."

"Fine then. Just don't talk to me."

"Fine then. Why would I want to?"

Frohike interjected, "you want me to stay, Mulder?" Krycek laughed. "I can still beat you with one hand, Mulder, but you don’t need your guard dog."

Mulder turned to Frohike and said, "you can go. I can take care of myself."

As Frohike closed the door they continued:

"I get the living room."

"I get the bed."

"You can have it. I hate the bed. I never slept on that bed."

*****

They'd settled into a routine. They each had their own territory within the small apartment, but agreed to take turns with certain neutral zones -- mainly the bathroom -- and to share the kitchen. They moved around each other less and less warily with each new day and even started to get used to each other a little. Their conversation was mostly made up of jabs and snipes and sarcastic digs, but they managed not to kill each other and even sometimes managed to eat together without a knockdown, drag-out fight.

Mulder knew he was depressed and that it was perfectly reasonable to be depressed under the circumstances. He actually considered visiting a doctor, but despite the fact that he'd devoted his education to studying human psychology, he simply couldn't rouse himself to do anything about his condition.

The days dragged on. Krycek was in and out, but mostly in, lately. And as the days passed, Krycek began to replace the TV as Mulder’s anesthetic of choice. Mulder spent hours watching him on the phone or computer. He began to notice the way Krycek moved. He catalogued all the little things, like the way Krycek's mouth quirked when he was almost laughing and the way Krycek's eyes brightened when he received good news. He watched with fascination the way Krycek managed two-handed tasks with one hand. He deluded himself that he was occupied with a character study. He wasn't obsessing. Right. He was just coldly analyzing his enemy. If he told himself that enough times, he thought it might become the truth.

He didn't dare allow the real truth to filter up into his conscious mind. It was a struggle of course -- a battle of wills within himself that he lost every night after the lights went out. At night in his dreams, Alex Krycek was not his enemy. At night in his dreams, Krycek's bright eyes blazed with passion and his mouth trailed kisses over Mulder's naked flesh. And the things he managed with that one hand drove Mulder wild with desire.

"So what are you going to do? Spend the rest of your life watching bad movies and staring at me?"

Mulder jumped, startled from his reverie. "Fuck you, Krycek. I don't stare at you."

"In your dreams, Mulder," Krycek laughed.

"Those would be my nightmares if they actually existed," Mulder spat back.

"Oh, they exist Mulder. You serenade me with them every night." Krycek replied.

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" Mulder asked.

Krycek smirked. "These walls are really not very thick. You think I don’t hear you, Mulder? Whimpering my name in your sleep? Moaning my name every night while you jerk off?"

"You're imagining things. You just want to hear me saying your name so badly that you've convinced yourself it's real."

"Whatever, Mulder. You know, I'm a big boy. At least I can admit to both of us that I find you attractive."

"I just bet you're a big boy," Mulder mumbled.

"Okay, that's it!" Krycek shoved the other man against the wall, grabbed his face with one hand and kissed him.

Mulder froze, paralyzed by the sudden kiss. "Shit! What have I done?" he thought. His cock was threatening to burst through his jeans in an attempt to join itself to Krycek's. To make matters worse, Krycek was grinding against his groin. Then Mulder's desire overwhelmed him and he simply couldn't think rationally anymore. Krycek's lips were still nibbling at his own. Moaning softly, he circled his arms around the man and pulled him in close. He felt Krycek's hand come up between them and unbutton his jeans. His cock sprang free into Krycek's hand and Yes! that hand was suddenly making his dreams come true, stroking him firmly just under his cockhead. He managed to moan "couch," into Krycek’s mouth.

"No. Bed," Krycek moaned back, pulling away.

Mulder leaned his head back against the wall and looked up and down Krycek’s body. "Yeah. Bed," he whispered, knowing he'd just conceded the battle over whose territory they'd use to finish this. Then he clasped Alex Krycek’s hand and followed him into the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed together, alternately caressing and nipping at each other. Krycek finally managed to sit halfway up and pulled off his shirt while Mulder watched. Then Mulder finished removed his pants. They alternated stripping for each other, pausing in between garments to explore uncharted territory with mouths and hands. When they were finally completely uncovered, Krycek leaned over and pulled open the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube. He poured some into his Mulder's hand, then rubbed their hands together.

"I've never..." Mulder gasped.

"'Sokay, we don't have to," Krycek said, gently, lying back on the bed. "No rules. Just play."

At that, Mulder picked up the bottle of lube, squeezed a generous portion into his already slick hand and proceeded to coat every inch of the beautiful body that was laid out before him. He slid his body on top of the man, reveling in the feel of Krycek's hard body against his own. A wave of intense need washed over him and he grasped both of their cocks together and slid them against each other while Krycek smoothed his lube coated hand over Mulder's back and ass. They moved in unison, riding against each other faster and faster, striving toward completion, until finally, both groaning each other's name, the intensity became unbearable and they erupted over each other.

As Mulder collapsed on top of him, Krycek said, "You know, you can call me Alex. I really prefer it. Besides, it sounds better than 'Krycek' during sex.

"Uh huh," Mulder nodded and then they both fell soundly asleep.

*****

Mulder woke to find himself alone in the bed and disoriented. It was morning; they must have slept for hours. Or at least, he must have slept for hours. He had no idea where the other man was or how long he had been gone. His body was slick and clammy and stuck to the sheets with lube and something else he'd rather not think about just now. He shuddered a little, then pealed the sheets off his body and headed for the shower.

As he began to scrub the lube and dried cum off his body, he wondered how long Krycek's had been up. "He probably couldn't get out of bed and away from me fast enough. Stop it. You think too much," Mulder sighed to himself. Last night felt right. No, it felt wonderfully perfect. So perfect that it couldn't last. Damn it, if he let Krycek close to him he'd just be betrayed again. The man was his enemy and just because they shared the same apartment now and had ... had done whatever last night didn't mean there was anything to care about. Better to steel himself against emotion and pretend it was just physical or better yet, that it would never happen again. He finished cleaning himself quickly, dried himself, threw on underwear, jeans and a T-shirt and padded into the living room.

Krycek // No, Alex.// had coffee ready and had started on toast. Without looking up said to Mulder, "So, getting back to our original conversation..."

"What original conversation?" Mulder asked.

"The what are you going to do with your life conversation. Remember that? Before you fulfilled your fantasies with me?"

"Fuck you. Those were your little fantasies we were fulfilling. And what I'm going to do with my life is none of your business."

"It is my business, Mulder. I live here. With you. I'm tired of you moping around the apartment with nothing to do. It's unnatural. It's a damned X-File is what it is. Hey, there's an idea. Why don't you go back to solving X-Files. That was fun for you, wasn't it?"

"Alex, just in case you missed the last several months, I can't work on X-Files. I was fired from the FBI."

"So? You've been officially cut loose from the X-Files before and it didn't stop you. Your geek friends can give you leads. I'm sure you could do a lot of good in this world playing Ghostbuster. Besides, we could use the money."

"I'm not giving you any money, Krycek."

"Call me 'Alex,' remember. By 'we,' I mean the Resistance. Or have you decided that alien colonization is a good thing?"

"No. It doesn’t matter. I don't have a partner anymore. Scully left me."

His voice dripping with sarcasm, Krycek said, "oh, and Scully is the only person you could ever work with? That's funny. I seem to recall that you once worked with some guy named ... wait, it's coming back to me. Oh yeah, Alex Krycek. Wasn't that it?"

"I thought you were busy helping the Resistance, or so you say."

"I have most of the current phase of plans completed. I can't work with you all the time, but you never wanted your partner with you all the time anyway. And the rebels could use your help to, you know."

Mulder sighed. He hated to admit it, but Krycek made sense. He couldn't come up with any good arguments against considering it. At least he could go talk to the Gunmen. That would get him out of this room so he could think some more.

*****

The Gunmen were delighted to hear Mulder wanted back in the game. Langly pulled together all the contacts they'd had from subscribers and friends. There were a few obvious hoaxes, a couple of stories that were easily explained by natural phenomena and one poltergeist phenomenon in Michigan that sounded intriguing enough to at least warrant a preliminary investigation. Things were definitely looking up. Maybe this could work after all. Maybe Krycek ... Alex ... and he could work together again. Maybe this was his new start.

Mulder returned home with the file, happily anticipating sharing it with his new partner and truth be told, he was ready to go back on his promise to himself and celebrate with some extreme possibilities with his new partner.

He could feel a change immediately after opening the door. Emptiness. The apartment was filled with emptiness. Dropping the file on the floor, Mulder ran into the bedroom to confirm his worst fears. "Shit! I knew it," he thought. Krycek's clothes, toothbrush and weapons were all gone. But wait ... he left his spare prosthesis! His heart pounding with hope, Mulder decided to check, just once to see if Krycek had maybe sent him some kind of note. He gingerly opened his laptop. There was indeed an email -- this one from Rat0622. He started at the screen for a few moments, not sure if he actually wanted to open it. He knew he couldn’t take another "Dear John" email. Finally, swallowing hard and with a shaking hand, he double clicked and read:

"had to take a meeting with someone, somewhere. don't you dare have the three geekmen track me down. we'll both end up dead *again* if you do. and you better take out the trash while i'm gone or no dessert for you when i get back. see ya in a few..."

He slumped back against the couch with relief. He'd managed to move up from the universe's Goodbye Boy to the universe's See Ya in a Few Boy.

End