You're Wasted on Me

Part I

Summary: It was almost like fate, how everything fell into place so horribly—so, so horribly. Angsty M/K one-shot slash, part one of two.

Disclaimer: The X-Files and all related characters, plots, etc. belong to Chris Carter, Fox, et cetera. The plot and relationship status are mine, unless Chris Carter has something up his sleeve that he's not telling us about. As seems to be the present trend with me, my title is taken from a song—Rapid Hope Loss by Dashboard Confessional. Also took some lyrics from the same song. Nothing related to DC or the song is mine … it's the band's and all their people.

A/N: I couldn't remember how Mulder's kitchen connected to the rest of the apartment, so that scene is utter guesswork. Just FYI. And sorry it's so long. I broke it into two parts 'cause no one wants to read an eleven-page one-shot….

You called to say you wanted out

Well, I can't say I blame you now

Sometimes you've got to fold before you're found out

Mulder got into his car, slammed the door, and immediately tossed his head back onto the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. So much had gone wrong in so little time it hardly seemed believable:

The case he had been working with Scully had been blown; they had lost the suspect within a few hours with no hope of regaining him. Thus they had to come report back to Skinner, who had ordered them back out to hunt him down, though the both of them knew it was pointless; his spacecraft had beamed him back up. Skinner had not believed as much. They spent the better half of the rest of the day idly walking through the woods, looking for nothing. Upon returning back to Skinner, he had shrugged and sighed with dissatisfaction, but did not further grill them.

He had seen a glimmer of hope at the end of the tunnel at the thought of returning to his apartment, where Alex should already be waiting, in all likelihood wondering where he was. Their trysts were few and far between due to both partners' need to keep the relationship quiet, lest someone who did not need to know found out, such as Skinner or the Cigarette-Smoking Man. Because of this, each affair seemed to last longer than the last, and Mulder found himself yearning for the next before the current one was ended. In fact, during Scully's report to Skinner, in his mind he was already unlocking the door to apartment forty-two….

However, his thoughts were dismantled when, as they left Skinner's office, Scully informed him rather casually that she would have to stay at his apartment as her own was in the process of several renovations.

The thought alone mortified him, of having Scully walk in to see Alex, possibly ready for him in a manner that Scully would no doubt find very unpleasant. He tried every excuse, but with each one Scully's ingenious mind had a counteraction. In the end, she had asked if he was hiding something, which he quickly had to deny.

Panicked, he excused himself to the men's restroom, took out his cell, and quickly tapped in his home number, only to remember he had instructed Alex to disconnect the phone upon each visit so as to avoid unwanted calls. Angry, frustrated, and horrified all at once, he slammed the mobile shut and onto the sink countertop.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, eyelids firmly closed, and sank down to the floor of the bathroom. Perhaps he would have time to warn Alex before he unlocked the door? He could get out the fire exit. Yes, that's what he would do.

Sighing and recomposing himself, he exited the restroom. "Ready?" he said to Scully, who was standing patiently outside.

"After you," she replied, allowing him to walk in front of her.

He ambled nervously to his car, Scully close in tail. She followed him into his car, and they drove off, a knot in Mulder's stomach increasing with each inch of distance they shortened between FBI HQ and his apartment.

As they came up the stairs, Mulder began talking to Scully in a very loud voice, praying that Alex would hear, get the hint, and leave.

"So, Scully, what're they doing to your place?" he said, stepping into the hallway.

"The whole building is undergoing a mandatory replacement of pipes and a checkup on the wiring. One of the more paranoid tenants has been complaining about faulty work, but I've not seen anything."

Mulder chewed on the inside of his lip as he stood in front of his door. "Alright, well, come on in, Scully," he said as he unlocked the door apprehensively. He had said her name as many times as possible within the short walk without sounding conspicuous, hoping anyone within might pick up on it.

Now stalling for time, he purposefully let his keys slip between his fingers before pushing the door open. He picked them up once more, and stepped inside, croaking to his partner to make herself at home.

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders: Alex was nowhere in sight, and there was no sound whatsoever coming from anywhere within the rooms. He sighed with relief and fell onto his couch. Mulder's eyes closed and he breathed in deeply several times before the fact that he was safe sank in. His fear was rapidly slipping away.…

"Mulder," said Scully, poking her head around the corner of the archway separating the kitchen and living space, "you don't have anything edible in here, do you realize that?"

He smiled and craned his neck around to look at her. "Sorry 'bout that. We can go out, if you want. I don't, er, usually eat here."

"Yeah, sure. I've not been out in ages."

Returning with their stomachs full at nearly eleven the same night, Mulder and Scully trekked up the stairs once more to his apartment. Though Scully had gotten a couple of phone calls (which she had not answered, claiming she wanted a night away from phones), it was otherwise a very nice evening spent with excellent company. Now, thoughts devoid of anything remotely mistrustful, but rather on the sleeping arrangements for the night, Mulder turned the lock…

…and then the weight that had previously been lifted from his shoulders was thrust back upon them with full force. Relaxed on Mulder's couch with no shirt and listlessly watching something on television was Alex Krycek.

He quickly backed out of the room, shut the door, and turned to face Scully. He just looked at her, terror filling every part of his body, making it impossible to even think of moving.

"Mulder?" said his partner. He must have been quiet for some time, because she repeated, "Mulder?" and walked past him, pushing the door open.

"Mulder, what the hell – " came a familiar voice from what seemed to be right in front of Scully.

Reluctantly, he twisted back around to see the stunned looks of Alex and Scully. For a while the three of them stared from one to the other, but no one said anything.

Finally, Scully broke the silence. "Why is Alex Krycek in your apartment without a shirt on?" she said in a very low voice, as if that might make the situation easier to do with if it was spoken in a whisper.

"I – think you should leave, Scully," said Mulder hoarsely, not looking at her, but instead at the floor.

"No," she said, now firm. "I think you should explain what the hell is going on here, and it better be damn good."

Alex, who had previously been very silent as he watched his lover's best friend let the idea of their relationship sink in, said quietly, "Agent Scully, I really think you should leave. It would be best not to let anyone know about this."

"Know about what? Mulder! What is going on? If it's … what I think, you should get the hell out of here because—"

But it was no use finishing her sentence, as no one had been listening to her very closely: the two men's attention was now focused on a third man walking down the hallway.

"Oh shit," said Mulder under his breath and, pushing past Alex and Scully, practically dove onto his couch. "It's Skinner," he hissed at the female agent, who had remained in the hall, staring blankly at the approaching figure.

As if this had snapped her out of her trance, Scully followed quickly behind Alex, who was now working at a window. She took a seat beside Mulder, the latter trying very hard to appear concentrated on the television program. Meanwhile, Skinner walked through the door just as Alex had moved to the windows on the bedroom; none of them seemed to be accessible—or enterable, even if they were.

"Agent Mulder, Scully?" he questioned, looking around. "Was that … Alex Krycek?"

"Krycek?" said Mulder calmly, looking up at his superior who was looming over the couch in front of the television. "Why would he be in my apartment?"

Skinner narrowed his eyes. "I don't know, Agent Mulder, you tell me. You can also tell me why neither of you saw fit to answer your phones." He looked round at Scully as he said this. "I tried both your mobiles twice, but neither of you picked up—same with your home phones. I left a message on your answering machine, Agent Scully. I came down here to tell you that they've caught your—"

A loud crash and the sound of something very heavy hitting the floor within Mulder's bedroom aroused looks of alarm from all three occupants of the living room. Without missing a beat, they rushed into the room, each with a different motive.

Mulder, mentally begging anyone who would answer, God and Buddha included, that Alex had willed a window open and fled. Apparently, he had no such luck: he was lying spread-eagle on Mulder's glass-littered carpet, his face, hands, and bare chest displaying many cuts. His prosthesis was detached and was upon the ground.

At the sight, Mulder impulsively bent down to him, taking in the scene that, for the first time in a while, he had not had a hand in creating. "What the hell happened to you?" he said to Alex, who was blinking rapidly and slowly moving his hand to the back of his head.

He removed the hand, blood between his fingers. "Christ," he said thickly, lifting his head off the ground and spreading the thick substance around, his brown knitted.

"You alright?" said Mulder, helping him to his feet. "You should get that checked—"

The two lovers, briefly caught up in one another, seemed to have forgotten about the pair of gawking FBI agents behind them, until Mulder had mentioned getting his wound looked at, which had brought his thoughts back to Scully.

"Oh, shit," he said for the second time that night, but this time under his breath.

There were tears in Scully's eyes that her partner could not comprehend, accompanied by a look of utter disbelief on the face of the Assistant Director. Mulder gave her a pleading look and eyed Alex for emphasis. She responded with a pleading look of her own, but conceded upon the desperation her partner offered in his eyes.

Mulder watched silently, still crouched beside Alex, as Scully lifted his head and examined it, lifting hair away carefully. She sighed. "It's just a minor lac … he's covered in them, Mulder. Some of these will probably need stitches." Her voice was low, and thick with an emotion Mulder yet again failed to recognize.

Krycek stood, not taking Mulder's hand when he offered it. "I don't need anything, Agent Scully. I'm fine." He glanced at his partner. "Can you get me a towel?"

"Agent Mulder—" Skinner began from the doorway as Mulder turned to go the bathroom.

He stopped in his tracks, and turned, prepared for the worst, but not wanting to face it. He was surprised, brimming on shocked, to see his superior shake his head, and look at the floor.

He left the room, very aware of the silence in the bedroom that followed his leave. He had really screwed up this time, and he knew it. He and Alex had had their meetings well planned and thought out from the beginning, and he knew that had been getting a bit sloppy recently. It seemed that with the anticipation of the forthcoming meeting, the both of them had began forgetting careless ground rules, for instance, the most important one: never plan a night on the day of a case unless you are one-hundred percent sure that there is no risk of being caught.

With a discontented sigh, Mulder grabbed Alex's towel and left the bathroom. "Here," he said, thrusting it into his arms.

"Thanks," said the younger man gruffly, still disregarding the other two agents.

"Look—" Mulder began Scully and Skinner, but the latter held up a hand to silence him.

"I think we had better go, don't you Agent Scully?" he said in a very peculiar tone.

Scully, Mulder knew, had no place else to go—but he did not object to her leaving, and neither did she. He watched, as if from a different body, as Skinner and Scully left the room, and he and Alex were left alone.

A/N: Review, if you will. My first XF slash!fic. :-)