Synopsis: Soaked and wounded, Alex came to the only safe place which is Mulder's apartment, but the storm isn't less violent than the one outside before they reach their final.

Note: This is an M/K version of The X-Files finale, wrttien for The Cube's eXit Files Challenge that took place on May 18, 2002.

Thanks:Mars, beta and babe, who made it better.

Feedback&Critique: Is very welcomed :)

It's raining outside, and Mulder peeks through his blinds, seeing the blurry light from the street lamp throw its way down onto the murky pools of water. He stands there, waiting in the green light of his fish tank. Leaning against the window frame, he rests his head on it, listening to the raindrops. He's staring at the golden, waving rings of light in the water, waiting to see the shadow that will cast itself over the light, signaling the coming of a ghost he has to face.

Closing his eyes, Mulder knows he has to tell Krycek it's all going to be over tonight.

In a dark alley, a shadow is resting his body against the damp brick wall, breathing a bit too heavily. There are small pools here and there around him, and through the darkness, he sees the red of his blood dissolving into the water beneath his feet. Maybe he's been hit by more than one bullet, and one more amount of his life is seeping out of him. Maybe that's why the weather isn't cold enough to make him shiver more than he already is. He walks toward the main street, then looks up at the apartment building in front of him.

Only the dim light of Mulder's fish tank is illuminating the window. Through the rain, that light is the only sign that will lead him to a safer place. At least from the rain, if not from danger. This time he is invited. Whatever Mulder's reason is, it sure isn't a 'free from jail' celebration that Mulder wants to share with him. Whatever it is, he has to go up there and dig it out of Mulder.

There, in the dimness and behind the blinds, he sees the man standing, watching the street, watching him. The rain helps wash down the blood from his face, and while he tastes it in his mouth, he's glad it goes away before Mulder can see it. He knows Mulder will be wearing that cold, calculating face of his, and that's already too much for him. He doesn't want to see the smug satisfied look as well, the one that always lurks behind his hazel eyes when he watches Krycek swallow his own blood.

He will taste the blood on my lips tonight. No matter what, it has to end. He's going to love me, or kill me.

He's already late. Ignoring his wounds, Krycek strides towards the building where Mulder is waiting for him.

The door swings open and Mulder snarls: "Thought you wouldn't show up."

Krycek slides into the room while Mulder shuts the door quickly. The warmth inside the apartment waves into him, and he lets out a long sigh before he realizes it, forgetting that Mulder is actually standing behind him.

He turns around, face flat, though he's boiling inside. "What is it you want to talk to me about, Mulder?"

But then Mulder is looking at him as if he's glad to see him, in a gray tee and faded jeans, looking as if he just woke up, with tousled hair and faint stubbled cheeks. Krycek's anger evaporates, and he starts to feel liquid warmth running up and down his body as arousal breaks lose. Then he realizes that the warmth must be blood leaking from one of his wounds.

Fuck, is he shot in the guts or something? Flinching slightly as pain follows the realization, he takes a step away from Mulder, not wanting the other man to smell his panic.

But before he can step further away, Mulder grabs his arm, his right arm, and stares into his eyes. "Come here, Alex."

Krycek stiffens, heart jumps, though he thinks he heard chimes in Mulder's soft tone. "Cut the crap, Mulder. Why did you call me here for?"

"Just...come here and sit down with me on the couch," Mulder speaks softly. "Please."

Surprised, he lets Mulder pull him to the couch. They both sit down, and Mulder is still holding his wrist. He glares at Mulder suspiciously, wondering what trick is playing in his mind.

It may be the rain and the tender quietness in the room with only the dim light that lends him a calm feeling. Mulder is staring at him, his eyes determined and yet strangely soft. Too soft, too close to affectionate.

Narrowing his eyes, he asks under his breath, "What?"

Mulder's hand comes up to smooth his cheek, and Krycek freezes. Mulder is looking at his lips now, and he's actually looking at Mulder's lips too.

Blood in my mouth...kiss him...

"You're cold, Alex." Mulder whispers, and then he leans in to kiss Krycek.

The world has stopped turning for Krycek. But fuck the world, because Mulder is kissing him, his soft, plush lips devouring his own split ones, Mulder drinking his blood and him drinking Mulder's water. Krycek becomes instantly hard, and his arm flings up to catch the back of Mulder's head, pulling him into a crushing kiss. They forget themselves in a wet, hungry savoring before Mulder pulls hesitantly away, and he sees that Mulder's lips are smeared with his blood.

He's going to dive in for another kiss, but Mulder cups his face and looks into his eyes again. "Wait...I have to get something, be right back." And he bruises his lips against Krycek's again before getting up towards the bathroom.

He keeps his eyes on Mulder as he walks away. Hears the water, hears the rain winding down to a drizzle. Hears his own heart thumping, his cock throbbing. He stands up and eases himself off the wet jacket. He's standing in only the white tee shirt that's glued to his chest, and the jeans that snugs painfully at his crotch when Mulder comes back into the living room.

Carrying a wet, warm cloth, Mulder reaches towards Krycek, and the younger man winds his arm around his waist and crushes their mouths together again. The cloth almost falls off Mulder's hand as Krycek kisses him hungrily, sucking his lips and playing his tongue all over Mulder's mouth before their tongues come to swirl around each other. They grunt and moan into each other, then Krycek is gasping against Mulder's lips.

"I thought we would never do this..."

Mulder wraps Krycek in his arms. "This is what I want to talk about, Alex."

"I've been waiting..." Krycek sounds like he's choking, "...years."

Mulder smoothes his back, resting his head against Krycek's shoulder. "I have something I need to tell you, and promise me you will listen till the end."

Krycek nods, wanting nothing more than to plunge into that soft, inner cavern again. Mulder draws back, lifting the cloth up and wiping the blood trailing down Krycek's forehead.

"You're bleeding again." Mulder wipes the dark, ugly stains off his cheek and chin. "Does it still hurt?"

Krycek stares at Mulder incredulously, then at the red-soiled cloth in Mulder's hand. "Well, I chose to come straight to your place, Mulder. So yes, it still hurts a bit. Now can we go back to the kissing?"

Mulder cups his face with one hand and keeps wiping his face. When he speaks, his voice quavers, "No. Not until you listen to me."

"I thought you had something *better* to offer tonight, Mulder." Krycek pushes Mulder away, disgusted with the feeling of being jerked around. "I don't need a fucking nurse."

Mulder's face is heated in anger, and Krycek sees...sorrow and pain, in his eyes. What is that supposed to mean? He snaps. "What do you want, Mulder? I've given all I could have and you're never satisfied! You wanted me to come see you, and I did. What the fuck do you need me to do? To give?" He snatches the cloth from Mulder and shakes it in front of the older man. "This? I'm not into role playing, Mulder."

Mulder grips Krycek's upper arms, fingers digging into his flesh, glaring at him. "Get a grip, Alex. Listen to me."

"Fuck you."

Abruptly, Mulder throws Krycek on the couch, using his weight to hold him down. It would have felt like a game, but Krycek looks up and sees glistening tears in Mulder's eyes.

Bitterness and agony dance in those dark hazel pools. He stares, stunned, at a tear falling out from Mulder's eye, descending in slow motion and gently dropping on his cheek. He blinks as the warm, feathery droplet touches him, looking up at Mulder in shock.

Mulder takes the cloth from his loose grip, and starts wiping his forehead again. "You're still bleeding, Alex..." he rasps.

Mulder slides his other hand inside Krycek's tee, warm palm caressing his stomach, and he hisses as it brushes past a cut there. A cut? Where and when did he get it? Tonight? Or earlier today? How come...

Mulder's fingers play over his torso and chest, and in their wake Krycek feels more wounds here and there. Some big, some small, some fading, unseen. The hand stops at his heart, resting. Mulder wipes his face again, then speaks in a hushed tone.

"You were shot, Alex. In the head."

Krycek closes his eyes for a moment and opens them again. "Get off of me, Mulder."

Mulder strokes his chest in circles, and whispers gently. "You're dead."

Krycek lands a blow on Mulder's face before either of them realizes it. The older man falters back, and in seconds Krycek flips Mulder onto his back and presses him down with his whole body, his prosthetic crushing at Mulder's throat, gun sticking between Mulder's eyes. His voice comes out as a feral snarl. "Fuck you, Mulder!"

Mulder grabs Krycek's plastic wrist, still pressing hurtfully into his adam apple, his eyes wet with tears, but they never leave Krycek's. "If you don't believe me, squeeze the trigger, Alex."

Pain slits through Krycek, slashing the deep end of his guts and chest at Mulder's vehement words. Familiar pain that he always knows. Mulder still hates him, still wants him dead. Again and again. The bastard also knows he couldn't hurt him, not fatally, and is using it against him. Maybe he should just pull the trigger. End it all now.

He keeps his eyes on Mulder, and the older man doesn't seem to be afraid, just settled, assured. That drives Krycek into a wrenching pang of rage. "I'm dead?" He snorts bitterly. "Your wishful thinking, *Fox*."

Swiftly, Krycek replaces his prosthetic arm on Mulder's throat with the steely grip of his good hand. Mulder's hands fly up to grab it, but he tightens his grip, gritting, "Take your pants off for me, Mulder. Let's see what a dead man can do."

Mulder stares up at Krycek. The younger man sees that there's no anger in Mulder's face, but a wide-eyed startle.

"Now!" He yells.

Slowly, Mulder lowers his hands to his crotch, and Krycek feels the gesture make his cock leap inside his jeans. The long fingers slowly pull down the zipper, revealing pale green boxers inside.

"Take it off, easy, no tricks."

Mulder is very obedient, to Krycek's surprise. He should have tried this trick long ago.

Stripping off his jeans and boxers awkwardly under Krycek, Mulder stares at him, his eyes bordering on anger now. "I told you, Alex. Touch your forehead. It's there."

"Shut up." Alex squeezes his grip and Mulder's mouth opens in voiceless protest. "And now, take my cock out."

Mulder reaches for Krycek's jeans and unzips him. Angry still, he can't resist the twitch of pure, hot white desire his hands send along his body as they touch Krycek's erection. He frees the long, thick shaft, already slick, and starts stroking it gently up and down.

Krycek hisses, his hips bucking into Mulder's hands, caressing his genitals the way only experts know. Closing his eyes, he rides Mulder's hand rhythmically, gasping, "Good...Mulder..."

Mulder stares down at the cock in his hands, and he grabs his own cock, then puts them together. He bucks up against Krycek, faster, his grip tighter. He bites his lips in thrilling joy as Krycek's pressure around his throat moves up and down in time with his thrusts. He pants softly, and Krycek's name is coming out of his parted lips in a soft sigh.

He feels Krycek speeding up, feels himself tightening, legs automatically spread apart, his back arching from the couch. His cock is pounding inside his fist, and he's one blink from orgasm when Krycek stops and lets his hand go from Mulder's throat.

Mulder shuts his eyes, biting his lips, his body shaking. "Alex..."

"Lift your legs up and hold them for me," Krycek says breathlessly.

"You're dead, Alex."

"Oh yeah?" Krycek spits into his palm and smooths himself up and down. "We'll see, Fox." He nudges the tight entrance and roughly works his way in inch by inch.

Mulder is thrashing on the couch, cheeks reddened, beads of sweat springing along his hairline. Beautiful, Krycek grates his way into Mulder deeper and deeper, not stopping to give Mulder time to open up because he can tell from Mulder's darkening and stiffening erection that he is loving it. At the last two inches, he thrusts home, making them both cry out. He hooks one arm around Mulder's leg, and starts his plunges.

They thrust into each other, hard and long, Krycek hovering over Mulder, and now he places his right arm on the arm of the couch and shoves fully into Mulder. Mulder is stroking himself with every powerful claim, each move wrenching breathy moans from him. There's no art in it, no shifting positions or intervening kisses, just a raw, nerve wrecking fuck for both of them.

Krycek leans down closer, feeling his slick pubic hairs rubbing against Mulder's tight balls, and just that tiny touch of their groins and chests fires him into a loud, shattering orgasm.

He's coming deep inside the hot, tight haven of Mulder's body, feeling himself pulsating and shivering, his body rocking from Mulder's own climax. Panting, he resists falling onto Mulder's chest.

His eyelashes are trembling from emotions rushing to break free from his eyes. If he opens them now, he might not be able to pull out and walk away. Now that he's had a taste of what he's always wanted, what he has sacrificed for. He can't be satisfied with it. He still wants more.

"Alex." Mulder's voice is slightly trembling. "Open your eyes and look at me." Words followed by a gentle hand on his cheek. "One more thing I have to tell you, Alex, is that I love you."

Krycek opens his eyes and sees drops of blood soiling Mulder's face and neck. One droplet lands perfectly on his lips, and Mulder's tongue sneaks out to lap it away.

Mulder sees the younger man lift his hand and touch the wound on his forehead; his eyes widen in stunned horror. Krycek rubs around the smooth edge of the small hole in the middle of his forehead, blood dripping out of it and down his nose. Finally, the tip of his middle finger slips into it.

Something flickers in Krycek's eyes, and he stares down at Mulder's painted lower lip. Shaking his head, he mutters, "It can't be..."

"Now your stomach, Alex. You took a cut there when you were very young."

Dizzily, Krycek does as he is told. Touches another thick line of blood there, as if the cut has just been newly lashed. "No, I just got it on the way here, Mulder. There were men, Consortium men, waiting in the alley..."

"There's no more Consortium, Alex. It's all over."

Krycek stares silently into Mulder's eyes. Mulder brings himself up and gently pushes Krycek to rest against the couch. "Let me show you one last thing. It's something you need to see."

Mulder takes the tail of the white tee in his hands and rolls it up and over Krycek's head. Krycek wants to close his eyes, but he can't. He is transfixed by Mulder's now green eyes as the man pulls his clothes away, leaving him naked.

The tee shirt is dropped onto the floor. Mulder runs his hand over the prosthetic arm, to the straps, to the strong shoulder down to pale, battered flesh.

Krycek is trembling at Mulder's every touch; and he would be laughing hysterically right now if Mulder wasn't touching him in such a careful way, a way that sings tenderness.

"No, Mulder. Don't touch it...it still hurts..." his voice fades as another realization hits him.

Mulder undoes the straps, and pulls the prosthesis away, revealing the torn, truncated arm and the white bone sticking out of Krycek's bleeding stump.

Screams catch in his throat as the world swallows up on him.

All he can do is hold Krycek tight against his chest while the younger man goes still in his arms. Mulder can't hold his tears now. He lets them flow down his cheeks as he stares into the darkness.

It's going to end tonight.

He murmurs against Krycek's ear, "You were right, Alex. I couldn't have done it alone. Not without you."

Moments pass, and Krycek murmurs back, his voice calm, "Why tell me now, Mulder?"

Mulder takes a deep breath, saying, "It has to end. You and I. All of this. I have to give her back the time I took from her, at least for now, Alex."

Krycek wraps his good arm around Mulder's back, pulling him even closer. "Funny, I've never thought of myself as dead. How can I tell? You still feel so good to me, Mulder." He's stroking Mulder's back up and down as if comforting him. Then he slides his hand up and holds Mulder's neck, pressing him closer. "You're still so warm to me..."

"Because you don't let yourself think so." Mulder plays his fingers over Krycek's nape and shoulder, and the younger man lets out a long sigh. Mulder goes on. "We don't think so. This isn't even my apartment, Alex. We just see it that way. And I guess that works. At least for us."

They just sit there, listening to the sprinkle outside the window, to the sound inside their chests. Then, Mulder kisses the top of Krycek's head again, whispering, "Come to bed with me."

Krycek looks at his bleeding left arm, feeling the first tear in years rolling down the corner of his eye. One single tear for one last night with the man he loves.

They have to end the suffering tonight.

"I want you so much," he says in a strangled voice. "I love you, Mulder."

"Alex, my fleshy being might be on a lease for a while, but after that..." Mulder angles his face so their lips rest against each other. "...after that, you'll have the rest of my existence."

They meet in a long, deep kiss before Krycek draws back and gazes into Mulder's eyes. Suddenly, they remember the first time they laid eyes on each other, seeing every hatred, passion and longing flowing between the two of them.

They take to the bedroom, where Alex finishes stripping Mulder slowly. When they lie down in the bed, the rain has returned. The dark bedroom is filled with low, heavy breathing and male scents overflowing in the air. Two bodies are moving against each other between grunts and moans as Mulder firmly glides in and out of Krycek, leaving his marks on the younger man. They claim each other once again before the dim light inside Mulder's living room fades into the brighter light of morning.

He finds himself standing in a vast, tall grass field. Looking up, he sees the white trail of the milky-way hanging low before him in the open, starry sky. It is peculiarly beautiful, layed out like a road with a million stars walking along its path. So boundless yet so close. Standing here he feels like he's already taking a step into a long journey, one he's been waiting for.

There is a big, bright light further away, and his intuition tells him he has to go there.

He takes a look at himself and finds that he's wearing a well-worn black jeans, a gray tee underneath a dark wool sweater, a leather jacket, and a pair of hiking boots. Fumbling inside his left pocket, he pulls out a flashlight, then a pair of black leather gloves from the right pocket. He sniffs at the gloves suspiciously and seems to recognize them. He searches for his cell phone, but doesn't find it there. But maybe he doesn't need it. Satisfied with what he's found, he puts on the gloves while keeping the flashlight between his lips. When he finishes, he casts the light into the field, seeing his path as clearly as the sky above.

And he starts walking.