GET HERE

by FLUTESONG

GET HERE
Author: Flutesong
E-mail: Flutesong@Hegalplace.com
Website: http://www.hegalplace.com/flutesong/ Keywords: M/K Slash
Spoilers: Krycek did not kill Bill Mulder and Mulder knows - after the silo Rating: R - Language, language!
Summary: Lonely Boys meet again
Warning: Slash /Language
Written for the 11th Lyric Wheel - Transports of Love theme Disclaimer: CC and 1013 tried to prevent these characters from going on their rightful paths (They OWN them)but this is my attempt to correct that grievous mistake. Notes: I just drove round trip 650 miles each way from the east coast to Indiana in 4 days. I wished this was what was really going on in the motel room next door. Deepest Thanks to Sue Ashworth for the wonderful beta. The WEBSITE is brand new and its wonders are due to Logan and Marcia Elena and they are wonderful indeed!
Archive: Sure, let me know where

GET HERE

Mulder dialed the cell phone Krycek had left for him seven weeks ago and listened to the seemingly endless series of beeps, tones and rings.

"What?" Krycek answered.

"Where the hell are you?" Mulder asked.

"Not there?" Krycek answered, his voice rising in pitch slightly, and Mulder knew he was smirking.

"Get here," Mulder said.

"Can't do it without a site-to-site transporter beam, and Scotty is not in dry-dock at the moment," Krycek answered.

"Why does everyone use Star Trek references when they talk to me?" Mulder said.

"Get real," Krycek said, with a snort.

"I'm gonna be in Indiana for five days, starting Tuesday. All I have is to do is appear at a parole hearing on Tuesday and meet with the local parole board four days later, about an old case. Otherwise nada. Time on my hands and all that," Mulder explained.

"What's the matter Mulder? No assorted ghosts and ghoulies to investigate? No lights in the sky, or mists on the plains to poke into?" Krycek said, in a pissy voice.

"I was rather hoping to poke into something more substantial and investigate exactly what makes you scream, but, hey, if you're too busy causing mayhem, wherever the hell you are, I can make other plans," Mulder snarked.

"Wait a minute; wait a minute. God, you are such a bitch, Mulder. I didn't say I wouldn't try or anything, it's just that transportation is a bit tricky at the moment," Alex said, hastily.

"You're in jail, aren't you? Tell me you're not in another missile silo," Mulder demanded.

The phone was silent for long seconds, "I am not currently incarcerated. I am, however, currently without a viable means of transport." Alex said.

"Steal some," Mulder said, shortly.

Krycek laughed, "Some Dudley-Do-Right Federal Agent you are."

"Trains, planes and automobiles are available almost everywhere. Buy a ticket or something." Mulder said, impatiently.

"Fuck, Mulder, I would if I could. I'll try. Indiana on Tuesday, got it, and, Mulder," Alex's voice dropped, and Mulder shivered, "if I get there, you'd better be prepared to do some deep investigation. Real deep, real hard and real, real thorough."

"As a trained professional, Krycek, I'm your man," Mulder answered, promptly.

"You bet your sweet ass you are," Alex said and hung up.

Mulder sighed, adjusted his pants and crushed the cell phone under his heel, picked up the pieces and threw them away. It was useless to try and trace Krycek, and the phone was good for only one call; after that it would just make rude noises and eventually go dead.

Indianapolis, Indiana - Wednesday afternoon, and Mulder was pissed. Where was Krycek? Mulder paced He wondered where in the hell Krycek had been when he'd called. "I don't care how you get here, just - get here, if you can," Mulder thought fiercely. "I need you right here, right now, right by my side."

Damn! When had Krycek become so important? Maybe it was when he had found him, wild-eyed, thin and trying so hard to be cool on the dark D.C. waterfront last May. He'd gone to a meet, thinking it might be a contact sent by X and found Krycek huddled in the shadows by the monument.

He'd gone into overdrive immediately and pushed Krycek further into the shadows with a gut-punch. Krycek had gone down from the one punch. Mulder had been surprised, Krycek didn't ever fight back, but he had at least defended himself in the past. Mulder had kicked him, before he could fully process Krycek's state of defenselessness. Krycek had moaned, curled himself into a tight ball and covered his head.

"Fuck, Mulder," Krycek gasped out, "just kill me already and have done with it."

"Where's your gun? What the hell are you doing here?" Mulder snarled.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Krycek panted.

"You think I believe you didn't know I was going to be here?"

"Believe it or not, Mulder, I do have more pressing concerns than running into you all the time. Staying alive is a definite concern and running into you always seems to contradict that effort." Krycek struggled to his knees and slowly got to his feet. He kept his hands in plain view and leaned against the base of the monument for support.

The street lamps provided Mulder with a view of Krycek's face, and he was shocked. Krycek was thin to the point of emaciation, and his hair was chopped off almost to a buzz cut. He was sickly white in the pale light, and he looked haunted and hungry. The leather jacket was missing.

"What happened to you?"

Krycek stared at him.

Grabbing Krycek by the front of his shirt, Mulder shook him, "What happened to you after the car accident? Where did you go? I saw a bright light, and then nothing, until I woke in the hospital. The fucking tape was missing. Where is it?"

Krycek lunged suddenly, knocking Mulder's hands apart and off him; his thin shirt tore. Kicking out, he toppled Mulder, threw himself on top of him and pinned him down. "Where was I? You goddamn bastard, I was there. Right there in the fucking silo, spewing out hell in hell. You didn't figure that one out, wonder boy?"

Rolling off Mulder, Krycek lay panting on the cold asphalt. Mulder could see the man's ribs through the torn shirt, and the heartbeat pound at the base of his neck.

Ever watchful, Mulder lay on the cold floor, "I thought you might be dead. The French diver and his wife died within two weeks of the alien vacating their bodies."

Sitting up, Krycek hugged his knees with his arms, "It did not leave me that way. It poured out and slithered back to the ship. While it was inside me - it gave back the tape in exchange for the location of the ship."

"Damn," said Mulder, got to his feet and put out a hand to help Krycek to his feet.

The other man looked at Mulder's extended hand, shrugged and put his hand in it, standing up.

"Your shirt is torn," Mulder said, for lack of anything else.

Krycek pulled the rent pieces back together, shrugged again, and looked out over the river.

"You going to arrest me or something?" He asked Mulder.

"Nah, you'd just slither away somehow, like the tape and the alien and that would piss off Skinner. I missed dinner coming here, and I'm hungry. Want to get something to eat?" Mulder replied.

Krycek looked away from the water and into Mulder's eyes, "What are you doing, Mulder? I not a charity case, and I don't remember much about the alien."

Eyes sliding away from Krycek's direct gaze, Mulder said, "Let's just eat, Krycek. It's late and cold, and I'm hungry and alone. You've got something better to do?"

"No."

"Okay then, let's get some of the fried fish at the wharf," Mulder took off his coat and shoved it in Krycek's hands.

Krycek held the coat closely for a moment then put it on, "We used to eat lunch there."

"Yes."

Mulder stopped pacing the motel room floor. It had started that night, whatever "it" was. All he knew was Krycek - - - Alex, had become something that filled a longstanding, empty gap in his life. Nothing much had ever been explained or examined. Alex had returned his jacket the next day and brought subs with him for dinner. The following week Mulder followed a message he found in a bag of sunflower seeds to a diner and they'd eaten together again.

Alex gave him a phone number. He'd called, and they went to see a movie. It was so normal, he'd wondered if it was an X File.

When Alex had not answered his phone for three days straight, Mulder had Langley find the address, and he'd gone to Alex's apartment. Alex had been injured. There were rough rope burns across his neck, and his voice croaked and rasped.

Mulder went out and bought soup and some aloe cream then insisted on applying it. Alex had not protested. Mulder hadn't stopped at Alex's bruised neck, and by the time he was through, the soup had long since gone cold, and they slept.

They only referred to their liaison long distance on the phone, otherwise they met, when they could, did normal things like eat and occasionally went out to normal places then fucked like mink.

When they were apart, Mulder thought the whole arrangement was insane. What the hell was he doing having an intimate relationship with Krycek? He tore every aspect of it apart over and over again, but came to no good conclusions. "It" was what it was, and he didn't want to be without it. He promised himself he would make Krycek explain what he thought the "it" was, but he always saw Krycek's heartbeat pound in his throat when they met again and forgot why he needed to have it explained in words.

"Get here already, damn you," Mulder said to the mirror. "Reach me by railway, reach me by trailway, just get the fuck here."

Mulder flung himself into the uncomfortable motel room chair and waited. The scratching on the door finally alerted him as Alex opened the door. Mulder could see he was sweating beneath his leather jacket; his long wavy hair was damp, and his tight as second-skin jeans were damply molded to his thighs; he looked hot as hell.

Alex paused, posed and grinned, "Been waiting long, love?" he asked, in a sugary sweet falsetto.

Mulder grinned back, casually crossed his long legs ankle over ankle, "Who, me?" He pointed to his chest and ran his hand down his belly to cup his sex, "Do I look like I was waiting?"

Alex grinned wider, let the jacket slip off his arms and licked the sweat from his upper lip, "Well, yeah. Actually, you do. You wouldn't believe how I got here. Maybe if you're very, very good and welcome me properly, I'll tell you later."

"Maybe if you're very, very good, I'll listen," Mulder replied, got up, walked to Alex and pushed him forcefully against the wall. He followed up on the push and plastered his own steaming hot body against Alex in full cover. Leaning in closer, he licked the sweat from the pulse point on Alex's throat.

"That's good," Alex whispered.

"It gets better," Mulder answered.

"I know," said Alex. "It just gets better and better."

"Yeah," said Mulder, "It does".

Fini

Get Here (If You Can)
Oleta Adams

You can reach me by railway, you can reach me by trailway You can reach me by airplane, you can reach me with your mind You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can

You can reach me by sailboat, climb a tree and swing rope to rope Take a sled and slide down slow, into these arms of mine You can jump on a speedy colt, cross the border in a blaze of hope I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can

There are hills and mountains between us Always something to get over
If I had my way, then surely you would be closer I need you closer

(interlude, then repeat bridge)

You can windsurf into my life, take me up on a carpet ride You can make it in a big balloon, but you better make it soon You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can

I don't care, I don't care, I need you right here right now

I need you right here, right now, right by my side (yeah,yeah, yeah, yeah)

I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can


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