Third Movement

I would like to insert the disclaimer that I am not getting off on the Krycek/Mulder scene in this one.  Also, no, I’m not a man hating lesbian, I’m a penis loving gay man, but I bow to my bizarre imagination, and I don’t like Krycek one bit, so that’s hopefully enough of a disclaimer for that bit.

It was a new world.

Not to say that everyone lived in steel skyscrapers in huge mega-cities as we have always been told we will
 in any new world. The futuristic dreams of what life would be in the future were just that, dreams.

People still drove cars, people still died, and no amazing technologies had extended lives.

What had changed the most was ideology.

The shattering of the conspiracy had more wide-ranging effects than anyone would have ever suspected. 
Cancer man’s death at the hands of Krycek, and Krycek’s own disastrous ending had brought more 
turmoil and change than any world war.

Not soon after Krycek’s demise, a young, naive and spirited congressman stumbled onto some evidence that aliens did indeed exist.

It was perhaps no coincidence that a certain red headed female had been seen leaving that congressman’s office late the evening before the discovery.

Youth and naiveté will always mar the best-laid plans. Political naiveté especially.

After following the path to discovery, the congressman laid the bombshell on an unsuspecting public.
Although his initial announcement was met with high skepticism by the press at the time, the reams of documents quickly swayed opinion. The public met the news with protests, violence, and a call to end the conspiracy.

A freshly elected President dealt the final blow to the conspiracy: He ordered all evidence released.

And the world was never the same.

It was seven years later, and the world had definitely changed.

-----

Mulder reflected over the past few years over a bottle of the cheapest vodka he could find.

“Vodka,” he slurred, “is the only thing from Russia that makes up for Krycek.”

It was also the only thing that could make Mulder let go of the past, albeit briefly. The past always came back to assert itself in the form of the world’s worst hang over.

His last thought before the vodka dragged him into the depths of sleep was how good it would feel to be
held again.

-----

Religion was dead. Even that grand institution, the Catholic Church, collapsed under the weight of the explosive files that the US Army, FBI and CIA were ordered to release. 
The Pope himself found no explanation, no plausible reason to keep the Church alive. In his last mass, he smashed his miter against the cross, and killed himself in a manner that could only be described as ‘grotesque’.

Riots erupted around the world. Literally over a billion people died in the riots, as the lesser educated
countries, those dominated by religion and those stuck in communism, rose up and destroyed
their own countries. China’s population was more than decimated as the people began a new revolution, overthrew the government and slaughtered anyone remotely involved in the communist rule.

But no world wars. No inter-country conflicts. The Americas were, by comparison, peaceful. The riots that did occur were, to the impassionate observer, almost scripted. No deaths, few arrests, little damage.

The amount of suicides, however, skyrocketed to the point where buying stock in funeral related companies
would guarantee you a massive return. It made no matter that the names of most of the high profile suicides
happened to be on an highly secret list composed just before the order to surrender all information regarding alien activities on earth.

Scrawled on a presidential letterhead, the list contained three different sets of handwriting. If a guess were to be hazarded, fingers could be pointed at the White House, the Pentagon, and the FBI, although since the list was destroyed after being committed to memory, no guess could be made.

Beliefs and moralities began to change a couple of years after the shock.

The world had begun to recover and many social mores began to morph. Sexuality became more fluid, and permissive, and began to be seen as an act of pleasurable and consensual nature. Although intercourse became more frequent, sexually transmitted diseases dropped, as a more permissive society saw the need for contraceptive and protective products so shunned before.

The amount of gay and lesbian people skyrocketed to well over ten percent of the population, as strict moral attitudes towards them dropped like flies. As the gears of legislation resumed a higher speed than normal, laws of equal rights were passed.

The almost utopian change in the Americas began to shift overseas.  Countries torn by internal warfare slowly healed their hurts and began to recover. Competition and economies thrived, and the world began to heal.

-----

Scully quickly thrust the folder and data CD into a pile of papers she knew the congressman was working on.
Quietly she flicked off the light, and snuck out into the hallway. Turning the corner, she almost bumped into one of the cleaning staff, who took no notice of her, humming to whichever bass thumping top 40 tune was cresting the charts and blaring through his Walkman at the time.

As she rounded the corner, an unfortunate coincidental passer by recognized her.

“Scully!” he shouted, sprinting down the hall to the corner.
As he came around the corner, he saw a long hall, unbroken by doors or windows, with only an exit at the far end, and not a person in sight. No human could have traversed the long expanse of the hallway by the time it took him to reach the entrance to it.

“I’ll be damned,” muttered Fox, “if I am seeing things. She can’t be gone.”

-----

It would be a sad tale, if indeed, Scully was gone. But she was and was not, both at the same time.

From normal human life, yes, she was gone. Dead in a way.

From existence, no, she was still vibrantly alive.

-----

Mulder had indeed returned from whatever fate his alien captors had held for him, and to Walter’s surprise, he was quite silent about it.  He just simply appeared again, and resumed his daily life.

The only major difference was that he started keeping some personal possessions, clothes and a toothbrush at Skinner’s house.

“Well, you know, Walter,” he said, “sometimes that freshly fucked look isn’t the greatest when you have to run after that next strange phenomenon.”

Walter shook his head at Fox and smiled. He knew that through the bad jokes and angst that Fox perhaps
was slightly better for the experience. Fox became less mechanical and more passionate in bed, and the murmured sweet nothings became more frequent and meaningful.

But all was not well. Krycek, once a pawn, then a potential threat to the conspiracy, became the last hold-
out, keeping the secrecy and deception alive. Skinner reluctantly cleared Mulder and Scully to hunt down
and capture the last conspirator.

Three months passed while they searched. Leads took them all over the continent, each to find the still warm trail that Krycek had left behind mere hours ago, before escaping to his next locale.

The hunt became heated, Mulder becoming intensely involved, burning with a fire that no one had seen before. Finally, the trail led them to that long ago warehouse where the thousands of medical files once stood, now empty and barren, long since cleared out.

All the doors that were electronically locked stood open. The knowledge that Krycek was in one of them led them to make a foolish mistake: they split up.

Mulder crept down through the caverns, kicking up small dust clouds in his wake. It seemed as if there hadn’t been a soul in the cavern for ages, yet he knew better. He could see footprints scuffed into the dust, handprints on the wall. The silence was eerie, and the echoes of Scully’s coughs reached him faintly as she gagged on her own personal dust storm.

Then, the coughs turned into a gasp and a muffled scream.
“Scully!” he shouted, and sprinted back down the passage. As he burst out of the tunnel’s entrance, he was greeted by the sound of a heavy object whistling through the air behind him.

A burst of stars, then blackness.

Mulder slowly dragged himself into consciousness. His first glance taken confirmed that he had been dragged inside one of the tunnels. His second glance confirmed that he was gagged, and bound hand and foot, and the last... confirmed that he was stark naked. He began to panic slightly.

He saw his clothes, neatly folded to the side. He also saw Krycek, struggling out of his own clothes. Fox’s heart began to beat wildly and adrenaline rushed into his body, but to no avail. He was bound tight.

“Aww, poor Fox. Thinking little old me would take advantage of poor innocent you.” Krycek growled. He stood there, completely nude, and advanced towards Mulder. “Do you want a piece of this?” he grinned, and grabbed his stiffening member with his hand. “You should be so lucky, Fox.  But not today. Convenient how we’re the same size, hmm? I needed some new clean clothes, and well, any chance to embarrass you I’d have to take.”

Mulder found his thoughts taking a small road trip through the less pristine areas of his mind. It did take a rather detailed tour through the mental city of “Size Matters”, and came back with picture postcards of  “The Largest Dick I’ve ever Seen”. Fox gaped and then frantically tried to focus on what Krycek was
telling him, but it was difficult, with Krycek obviously getting off on both his rant and watching Mulder tied up, struggling to get free, All the time, Fox’s repulsion at and adoration of Krycek warred inside him.

Krycek stopped talking for a moment, walked over to Mulder and snapped his erection on Mulder’s head. He giggled “Oh, I’ve always wanted to do that, Fox;  you always looked like you needed a little more abuse.”  He walked over to Fox’s clothes, and grabbed Fox’s underwear. Raising it up to his nose, he inhaled deeply, his cock twitching in excitement. “Ah, if I only had more time, Fox, I’d...”

“Stop right there, Alex.”

Scully stalked into the small cavern, her gun pointed directly at Alex’s heart, and ruby red fury in her eyes. Not to mention a bruise on her face, torn clothes, and abraded and bloody wrists where it was obvious she was bound not that long ago.

“You’re a sick bastard, and I won’t let you get away with it any longer,” she yelled, “ Say good-bye, fuckhead!”

She aimed the gun down, and shot him in each foot. Krycek toppled over, too suprised to even scream. She
kicked him onto his back, and shot his arm three times, severing it with the precision one would get using a
chainsaw to slice a sandwich in half. Krycek managed to shriek once, but Scully did not stop.  She aimed
for his erection, shot it twice, and then aimed for his head.

“Goodnight, Alex, your reign of terror is over”

Bang.

-----
 

Fox’s recollection of what happened next was blurry. He remembered the world going fuzzy, then into double images, then fuzzy again.

He remembered Scully cutting him free, helping him dress, and guiding him out of the corridor and into the main area of the warehouse.  He recalled her punching Skinner’s number into her cel phone and making him tell Skinner where he was. She quickly explained to him that she had to go, someone had freed her, something was happening, but it was all too quick for him to grasp. She ran outside and the last thing Mulder heard was a blood-curdling shriek. Scared, battered, bruised, and woozy, Mulder crept behind a door and wept, cursing his enfeebled state and feeling the coward.

-----
 

“Is it time yet?”
“No.”