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This entry is part 1 of 6 in the series Deny Nothing

When Mulder disappears, his two favorite sidekicks must ally to save him. Has Alex Krycek met his match? And is Agent Scully a natural redhead? Only their hairdressers know for sure.

Spoilers: Through the (first) film.

Rating: XA(R), NC-17 for sex and violence between major characters. As Woody Allen said: Sex between a man and a woman can be wonderful, provided you get between the right man and woman.

Disclaimer: You down with OPP, yeah you know me. Actually that’s part of the summary, not just the disclaimer.

Deny Nothing cover

Alex was in Istanbul, getting a blow job from the most enthusiastic partner he'd yet found on the continent, when he got the alert.

He tossed the kid out and dialed the number — not the number that appeared on his beeper, naturally, but the number that came up when he ran it through his personalized coding program. Sometimes he wondered what espionage had been like back in the days of Washington and King George. Slower, he thought.

Mulder had been missing for only ten hours by then, but his little partner and his shiny-headed boss had conferred and agreed to conduct an unofficial search for him.

It wouldn't have been news, except that his real watchers, the serious ones who could get killed for fucking up, didn't know where he was either. Surveillance hadn't picked up any indication that Scully actually knew his location and they doubted she was trying to game them. She'd been running down the list of Mulder's favorite conspiracy freaks and loons with negative success. All in all, it violated Mulder's standard operating procedure; usually he told Scully something provocative before he ran off, dropping clues like breadcrumbs for little birds to eat. Usually Mulder had called by this point, when the shit was a millisecond away from the fan blades and he expected her to fix it all.

He wondered if Mulder had finally lost his vertical hold. It had always been a possibility that one day he'd decide to stop fighting and embrace the darkness behind his own skull. That was part of his charm.

Alex sighed. No doubt about it, he missed the big galoot. And the local Turks, while young, were nowhere near as good-looking.

He was on the next plane to New York.


The light in Mulder's apartment was murkier than the water of the aquarium humming dimly in the corner. Small surprise that Mulder would take better care of his fish than of himself, though neither would win any health awards.

Scully would have been here already. He thought it looked a little tidier than he remembered. He wondered if she kept clothes here, or if that was too indiscreet. Surveillance refused to confirm a sexual relationship. Of course, he'd had a pet hacker retrieve his own file from Surveillance and they'd thought that he and Mulder were just friends. All it took was some paranoid lust and a willingness — in his case, an eagerness — to forego beds.

The ostentatious sound of a safety being flicked off interrupted his musings. The gun nudged the back of his neck and, as always, it sent a thrill straight to his cock.

"Hands behind your back," Scully ordered. He smiled at the fishtank because she couldn't see it and swung the prosthesis back and caught it with his remaining hand.

Cold metal closed around his living wrist, and then he felt the vibration as she secured the prosthesis. Thankfully for him, she didn't seem to notice the unusual texture of his plastic limb.

"Turn around."

She'd kept the weight off well, he noted as he looked down at her. He'd expected a continuing fluctuation, based on his memories of her when he'd first met Mulder and when she was returned. But it seemed that Dana Scully was no yo-yo dieter.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for my KISS records that Mulder borrowed. Does he know you wear his shirts when he's gone?"

She flushed and her eyes dropped for a crucial second. One sharp tug at just the right angle, and the straps around his shoulder slipped free of the prosthesis. He swung his arm around, a bizarrely improvised numchuk, and batted her gun hand aside just as his plastic fist connected with the sweet spot on the back of her head.

The Addams Family's Thing couldn't have done better, he thought with satisfaction as she crumpled. He fished a handcuff key from his pocket. He had to stick it between his teeth to unlock the cuff from his wrist, but then he was able to remove it from the prosthesis and reinstall the cuffs on her.

It was the first time that getting his arm cut off had ever helped with anything.

She regained consciousness as he was unbuttoning his shirt to slide the prosthesis back into place. He could tell she was watching, because her breathing changed even though she tried to keep her eyes at half-mast.

"I'm not going to rape you," he said indulgently. "I've just got to get my secret weapon back in its holster."

She struggled upright. With her arms cuffed behind her, she had to thrust her chest against Mulder's Egyptian cotton shirt. He stared as he tossed his shirt aside, just to annoy her. He supposed that it was a nice body, for a girl.

"What are you doing here?"

"I didn't answer that when you *had* the gun. But I imagine that the answer's obvious, Agent Scully." He secured the prosthesis, tightening the straps that had torn loose, and began the laborious process of putting his shirt back on. The major life activities weren't so bad — eating, fucking, firing a gun — but details of hygiene were still frustrating. He probably wouldn't notice the difficulty after another forty years to get used to it.

"Am I to assume that you don't know where he is either?"

"None of the factions I know of will admit to having anything to do with his disappearance. I thought I'd see if I could be of some help, since you're not known for your ability to think outside the box."

"Do you have any useful suggestions, Krycek?"

Most of what came to mind had very little to do with finding Mulder. It was admirable, in a way, that she was able to ignore the fact that she was sitting handcuffed on the floor in the presence of a man she knew to be a remorseless killer. "When did you last hear from him?"

Her eyes began to roll, and then she denied herself the indulgence of reacting. "He said something about a potential new case a few days ago, I'm sure it's on tape somewhere. According to garage records, he left the Hoover building at 10:12 AM two days ago and departed for parts unknown. I had hopes that someone like you might have access to the tracking device that I'm sure was in his official vehicle."

He smirked at her. "Shall we go to the location of its most recent transmission?"

"You want to … work together?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Agent Scully, and we might have better luck combining our official and unofficial resources. We get Mulder back, and then I'll fight you for his hand."

Her lips quirked. "It seems as if you could use one."

Alex didn't even wince; as soon as he'd said it he'd known that he'd pitched it straight over the plate. "So, shall we declare a truce until we find the object of our mutual regard?"

She stared at him. He must have passed her test, because she nodded and turned so that the handcuffs faced him.

"I hope you're grateful for a watchful government's tender concern for Mulder's well-being," he said as he released her.

"I wake up every morning and thank God for that."

He didn't remember such sarcasm. Maybe it was an effect of the abduction.

Series NavigationDeny Nothing: Chapter 1.5»
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