Banishing Betty

"You fool. Didn't I tell you I went to the bone, baby?"

A shaky, bandaged hand gripped a glass filled with scotch and a few chunks of ice. After trying to dissolve the lump in his throat with a couple swallows of the warming liquid, Ed Jerse half-dropped his glass onto the table with a thump.

"Face it, Eddie. You knew all along. You told ol' Pouty Lips herself," her voice buzzed inside his skull, dripping with contempt at the mere mention of her.

In the background, the heavy clicks of cue balls being struck on the pool tables could be heard, as well as the low roar of the bar drone surrounding his bowed head. Betty was right. He had told Scully it was more than just a chemical reaction to the ink, that it ran much deeper.

He was at a total loss. Everything Ed had tried to do to fix his problems or make the best of it had brutally backfired in his face.

When it seemed that things couldn't get any worse, he had gracefully decided to pick himself up and start a new life. "Never again," he vowed, but no, that fucking bitch took his rock bottom and added another hundred feet to it. And she never left him. Damn it all. "Oh God, what now?" he thought, too depressed to anything but sit there, uncomfortably numb.

"A vodka," Krycek said to the bartender. He forked over six bucks and took a sip. "Ugh, damn awful," he grimaced. He did that to himself every time, just to see if it's the good stuff instead of the crappy American brands. But, a drink was a drink. Better luck next time.

Krycek had played the conspiracy game his entire adult life, but the working field had drastically changed. He needed more than a temporary alliance. He needed a trustworthy friend if he was going to survive from this point on. And if anyone could possibly understand, if anyone could handle the truth, it was Mulder and Scully. He was disappointed to have to think less of them now for missing the boat on the Pudovkin case. He had deliberately maneuvered that Russian contact into place for Mulder to find, so that they would come to know what Krycek knew. Pudovkin was the rabbit hole into the twisted Wonderland that was the conspiracy. As much as he was loathe to open up, it was necessary. So that, maybe, he could gain partnership instead of continuing his solitary endeavors. But why had Mulder and Scully failed to pick up the tip, dammit?

From his surveillance, Krycek suspected Ed Jerse was to blame for all this.

"What's all this," he had thought two days ago as he had spied Agent Scully sitting with Jerse at the bar. Was he with the Bureau, too? Had the X-Files been re-assigned? Or was he just a clueless civilian? He cursed the Cigarette-Smoking Man under his breath. All the power in the world at his nicotine-stained fingertips, and the man wouldn't even provide Krycek with decent audio equipment. Whatever was going on, Krycek did not like the look of it, and he aimed to get to the bottom of it. This was one plan he couldn't afford to see fail.

And now there sat Jerse, a free source for the taking. Alex's lips curled into the slightest of smiles as he watched Ed moping in his booth alone. 'This is going to be relatively easy,' thought Krycek. He downed the rest of his crappy vodka in a few quick gulps and ran a hand through his hair. Showtime.

He sauntered over to where Ed was sitting, but the man didn't even notice him. "Hey. Do you mind if I sit here? This girl at the bar is talking my ear off and if she sees me alone again, she'll probably come over and take off the other ear...."

The apathetic Ed raised his eyes and stared at the stranger for a moment. "Are you sure she didn't talk your arm off instead?" he said, noticing the fake prosthetic. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"No, she didn't. But the last girl did." Krycek's face played a light-hearted expression.

"Ha! See babe, he isn't a sourpuss like you," piped up Betty. "Why don't you give him a seat?"

Jerse, too tired to argue, nodded to the chair beside him and Krycek sat down.

"My name is Alex, by the way."

"Ed."

"Ed...so what brings you here, if you don't mind my asking? Honestly, you don't look like the typical patrons around here."

"Honestly, you don't look typical, period," Betty winked, unseen under Ed's bandages.

"It's a good place to drink when you're feeling down," responded Jerse, while fiddling with the wrappings on his arm and trying to ignore her.

"Really? It looks no different from any other seedy joint on this strip, " shrugged Krycek.

"Everyone here looks like their problems are worse than mine, " said Ed, mechanically. But it didn't make him feel good about himself. Not this time.

Krycek saw a man who looked utterly defeated on every level. A cigarette dangled from Ed's haggard mouth, and a long, worn bandage was tied from his shoulder all the way down the length of his arm, ending in a mummy-like hand gripping his drink. His white shirt was rumpled and looked slept in. What the hell had happened to this guy? He had to play his next words just right. "Really. I wouldn't have guessed."

"Of course he wouldn't," smirked Betty. "Everybody wouldn't. Even the old, fat, biker perverts around here look like they have it better than you. Eddie, baby, I know what you need, and right now, stop acting so damned pathetic."

Ed sighed and swallowed the lump in his throat again. "Yeah, well, usually I feel that way. Just not recently. You know how it goes, shit happens." Ed offered a smile, but it came out looking like a sad grimace.

Krycek flashed back a knowing smile, expertly formed. "Yes. I know what you mean."

"Uh, I-I'm sorry about being snide when you first came over. I didn't really mean it, you know."

"I already forgot about it," said Krycek. Forgot about dragging him out back and slugging the information out of him, that was.

Ed tipped his head towards Krycek gratefully. With the strong alcohol buzz and the unexpected company, he began to feel more talkative.

Betty snorted, and then taunted Ed in a singsong voice, "You plastered idiot, do you see any girl at the bar? I want to know what he wants. Don't you want to know what he wants?"

Ed didn't care. He didn't want to play Betty's games, always suspicious, always conniving. He was unbearably lonely, but too terrified of being anything else. The last thing he wanted was to hurt someone again, they way he had hurt Dana, and the way he had hurt himself.

She kept on jeering. "Eddie, Eeedieee...come on, Eddie! There's no quitting with me, lover. Let's go see what this Alex wants from us."

Damn her! Simple, reserved chitchat was good enough; he did not want to go any further. He did not want to drag another person into this mess. "Fuck you," Ed groaned inwardly.

Powerless to defy her, Jerse wrenched his gaze from the table and put it on Krycek. Something was a little...off. Alex's black leather jacket was battered with wear, and the gray t-shirt underneath looked worn thin to the point of almost unraveling softness. Faint gray circles shadowed beneath his eyes. His lips remained discreetly parted, as if he required more air than normal people. This man was not as relaxed as his poised, attentive manners advertised.

"Now you see, Eddie. I wonder what he's really doing here tonight," she prodded.

Alex looked like just another common thug out for a drink, but Ed couldn't shake the feeling Krycek was somehow a disconnected outsider even among this bar full of outsiders. Gritty and low-life he appeared, yet his polished bearing was anything but thuggish. It was too contradictory for Ed's comfort.

Jerse blinked and brought his gaze back down to his drink. "So it looks like whatever girl you were dodging is gone now," he said, trying to get rid of him before something bad happened.

"What about you? Is it about a girl?" Krycek only pressed on.

"What's it to you?" Ed half-slurred.

Krycek smiled serenely. "A lot, if you care to know."

Jerse watched those lime-colored eyes stare back expectantly. He let out a worn, beaten-down chuckle. "You really think you can give me some pointers, huh? Look, I'm sure you know a few things about women, but this is beyond anyone's capacity. Trust me."

"Why don't you try me?" Alex proposed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I did."

Krycek just smirked. "Now you have to tell me. Here, hold on a second." He motioned to a busy, young, dark-haired waitress passing by. She stopped abruptly and raised her eyebrows at him in a hurried, 'you're not my table, what do you want' expression. Unfazed, Krycek made sure to bend his lips coyly. "Would you be so kind as to pour my friend here another glass of scotch? On me." He tactfully looked up at her from under his thick eyelashes.

Her bothered manner dissolved quickly into another, more enticing kind of feeling bothered. "Sure thing, mister," she said, running an appreciative eye over Krycek and plucking a bottle out of the several that was balanced on her tray. "Enjoy, boys," she winked and dashed off after filling Ed's glass.

Jerse did admit it was nice to see a full glass. A story in exchange for Scotch? He was not going to ruin his good buzz by arguing with it.

"Don't you dare!" warned Betty. "You tell him about me, and you will regret it."

He proceeded to tell about his tattoo. His divorce. Betty's voice. Dana. The furnace. His arm. After he finished, he sat in silence, waiting for Krycek's response.

Krycek clenched his jaw, and his nose flared briefly. He wasn't sure how drunk Jerse was, but he was beginning to question whether it was a good idea to buy him that last drink. He quickly put on his friendly face and chuckled. "Wow, Ed. That's really...amazing."

Jerse saw that twitch in Krycek's face. And more alarmingly, he knew Betty saw it.

"He's not going anywhere," she stated simply.

Ed felt partly possessed as he spoke slowly, with a hint of threat in his tone. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

Krycek kicked himself for wasting all that time when he should have stuck to Plan A: Punch and Tell. The man was obviously not connected to reality in this state. "I didn't say I didn't believe you, did I?" he said.

Jerse scoffed. "You didn't have to, Alex."

Enough messing around. It's time to finish this, thought Krycek.

"Finish him, babe," she demanded Jerse.

Ed miserably downed the rest of his scotch, wondering why she had to be such a vindictive bitch over nothing. "Well, I'm beat. Thanks for listening, anyway. Cigarette?"

"Thanks," Krycek took the smoke. He hated smoking. "And thank you for fending off the chatterbox."

"No problem," said Ed. "I'm gonna call it a night. Take it easy, okay?"

"I will. You too."

Jerse felt Krycek's eyes on him as he slipped out the front door of the bar. Now all Ed had to do was wait until he came out.

Inside, Krycek had risen to his feet in pursuit as soon as the door had closed behind Ed. He was going to have to use the old-fashioned interrogation method now and wasn't too thrilled about it. "...knuckles never get a rest..." he griped to himself. He made a mental note to purchase some brass knuckles with the custom inscriptions he liked.

Outside, Jerse stood hidden in an alleyway across the street from the bar. He saw its front door fling open to Alex's silhouette standing in the frame. The head moved left, then right, searching the street.

"Ooo, I think he's looking for someone," she snickered.

"Oh my God," Ed's eyes widened. "What on earth is going on?" he thought. He leaned back against the brick wall and took a shallow breath. It was so cold outside, it made his bones ache. But it was good, because it helped him get out from under Betty's homicidal grip. He didn't know what this guy wanted with him, but he sure wasn't going to stick around to find out. Ed staggered backwards and turned to jog further into the alley.

Outside the bar, Krycek stood scanning the street, his fists clenched at his sides. Nothing. He didn't see a soul. Then he heard it. It was faint and getting more so, but there it was; the sound of feet pounding on pavement. Damn! Somehow, Ed knew he was after him. Alex took off down the alley in the direction of the sound.

In the alleyway, a rising panic swelled in Jerse's chest as he heard thudding feet closing distance from behind him. Shit, shit, shit! He picked up speed as much as he could, but it wasn't long until two arms sharply clenched his waist. A millisecond later, those arms were followed by the entire weight of Alex's body as it tackled Ed to the ground.

All the wind was knocked out of Ed but, recovering quickly, he used the momentum from the tackle to roll onto his back with Krycek attached to it. Krycek grunted at the weight crushing down on his chest, and the second his grip relaxed, Jerse freed himself. But Alex was the more hardened, quicker man; up in a second, he grabbed the momentarily free Ed Jerse by the throat and slammed him back-first into the brick wall.

Ed choked on the hard, cold prosthetic hand that was squeezing his windpipe. "What the hell do you want," he croaked.

"Pudovkin. I know." Alex's eyes bored into Ed's threateningly.

"What?"

"Don't fuck with me, Jerse! You tell me what I need to know and this will be over," Krycek growled in his face.

Ed's heart palpitated frantically in pure terror. How did this man know his last name? How was he going to convince him that he had no idea what he was talking about?

"Special Agent Dana Scully. What did you tell her about Pudovkin." With each word, Alex's 'hand' dug deeper into Jerse's throat.

Ed gasped helplessly and winced. "Please, I don't..." He heard Betty laughing in amusement.

"What if you hurt someone again, the way you hurt Daaana, the way you fried yourself? Yep, you're a real ass-kicker," she jeered at his prior reservations.

She always knew what buttons to push, and he loathed her for it. With a grunt, he swung his arms and violently snapped Krycek's prosthetic out of its attachment. Alex's jaw dropped in surprise as he watched his 'arm' clatter to the pavement.

Krycek stood seething, lips curled back in a silent snarl and his chest heaving. His fury far outweighed any sting in his amputated arm.

"If looks could kill, then call me slaughtered!" Betty exclaimed with glee. "But isn't he feisty, baby?"

"YOU CRAZY BITCH!" Ed raged at the top of his lungs at her, but looking at Krycek while he said it.

Krycek wanted so badly to crush Jerse's throat again. But he couldn't do that because right then he was using his only hand to rip the bandage off Ed's arm.

Ed screamed again, this time in agony as the bandage was torn off his third-degree burns. The sharp bolt of pain shot straight up his arm and knocked him to his knees. Krycek's voice was tempered in spite of his anger, "Professing ignorance will only get you into more trouble. Now I am going to ask you another question, and you will tell me the truth. Do you understand?" Alex's face was unreadable.

Jerse looked up at him and scowled, deliriously swaying on his knees from the pain. "You're the biggest, damn idiot I've ever met," he gasped.

With an immediate swiftness, Krycek slammed his boot into Jerse's gut. He did not speak, but simply waited.

Ed bowled over, coughing, but that did not deter him one bit. "You know what, I wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't the first time you hit up the wrong person," he wheezed. "Fucking moron."

Krycek's eyes darted to Ed's wounded arm, and he noticed the scarred outline of a female face on his bicep. A moment of doubt emerged in his mind. Maybe Jerse wasn't as wasted as he had thought? An X-File. Krycek had been so focused on the conspiracy, he had never given the actual, everyday work of the X-Files a second thought since his brief stint with Mulder so long ago. As far as he was concerned, Mulder and Scully's only real work involved the impending colonization. "Scully's little X-File," he said to himself while staring at nothing in particular.

"Look, I don't know what she does in the FBI!" Ed said.

Krycek snapped out of his thoughts and put his attention back on Ed. "Just to be sure," he thought as he grabbed Jerse by the shirt with his good hand and pulled him up to his face. "Then tell me what you do know." Alex let go of his shirt and cruelly raked his fingers down Ed's burns to jolt him. But it was he who received the jolt.

"What big, strong hands - er hand - you have."

Krycek released Ed's arm in shock. His hand had been right over that tattoo.

Right before his eyes, Jerse saw Krycek transform from a menacing bastard into a startled one.

"You didn't say that, " Krycek blurted out.

It was Ed's turn to be shocked, "Y-you heard her?"

"All the better to beat you with, Eddie...just not the way he's been doing," Betty continued her train of thought in Ed's head.

Krycek saw Jerse make a disgusted expression. "Did she say something just now?" he asked.

Ed looked at him warily for a moment before speaking. "I don't know why, but she likes you. A lot."

Krycek dropped his jaw in half-disbelief. "This is insane," he said, studying Ed's face for signs of this other, unseen woman he had just heard. The voice had been low, husky, and unmistakably female. This was all too bizarre for him, not to mention completely im-fucking-possible. But so were the aliens, at first. Anyway, he had what he wanted and knew there was nothing else left to discover from Jerse as far his inquiry into Mulder and Scully was concerned. He looked one last time at the pitiful, wretched Ed Jerse standing before him with his burned arm and no one but the voice in his brain to keep him company. Krycek turned around and walked away.

"Hey!" Betty said sharply. "Where does he think he's going?"

Ed was able to exhale now that he watched Alex retreating back down the alley.

"Oh no, no way," Betty exclaimed. "We are not finished, do you hear me? You get him back here, right now!"

"It's over, Betty." Ed attempted to form a tone of finality in his voice.

She wasn't having any of it. "I wasn't asking you, Eddie. I'm telling you to get him back."

"No."

"Eddie. Baby," she crooned, switching gears. "How long have you been by yourself? I told you that tramp was no good for you. I told you no woman is. I know you, babe. I would say better than you know yourself, but you don't even have that. Instead of just giving into me, listen to me for once. You've tried your way, and you've tried your way while barely hearing me. Now try it my way, all the way. It will make all the difference, Eddie. I promise."

Jerse's eyes had closed as her velvety words echoed in his head. Desperate for peace and for any way out of his sad circumstance made it easier for her voice to have an almost hypnotic effect.

"Go get him, lover." she urged.

He opened his eyes to see Krycek's form smoothly walking down the alleyway. His body moved with a precariously controlled grace. Then he saw his one arm, that horribly strong and cruel arm, and was knocked to his senses. "He's a hardened criminal," Jerse objected.

"Honey, I noticed exactly how hardened he is. Quit stalling."

Jerse rolled his eyes. "You two deserve each other. And if you think I'll take any more S&M crap from either of you, you've got another thing coming."

Betty cackled.

Ed scooped up Krycek's prosthetic which lay on the pavement. "Forget something?" he called after him.

Krycek stopped in mid-step, his back still facing Jerse as if to say, "damn it!" He turned around. His jaw clenched, a little irritated for letting himself become hot-headed enough to forget his arm. Working all day but getting nothing done - it was beginning to give him a mild headache. Krycek strode back up the alley with eyes locked on Jerse.

Ed was a complete, beaten mess from his head to his feet. Alex's pulse quickened at the sight of every bloody scratch etched on Jerse's face and arms, at each tattered bandage hanging off his limb, and every fresh, lavender bruise emerging on his throat; he always admired his own handiwork. He didn't glean pleasure or take pride in afflicting people, but he couldn't help creating some wretched beauty out of it. After performing the same filthy work year in and year out, he found himself using interrogation and wet works as a kind of art. It's what they call, "making the best of it", he figured. And on this occasion, Krycek thought that the canvass added to the exquisiteness of his work as well.

Jerse glared at him through his tousled, brown hair. Seizing the opportunity to examine what he considered his best masterpiece yet, Alex stopped inches from Ed's face. "I'd pummel you again for it, but it's been a long day. Hand it over."

A thick pause of expectancy hung between them. Alex's eyes flickered over Ed's features. Ed continued scowling. Then, in a instant, Jerse smashed his fist into the side of Krycek's face with a sickening thud. He grunted and reeled backwards, colliding into a rusty alley door. Jerse rushed towards Krycek, clutching the prosthetic arm in both hands and shoving it tightly under his chin.

"You think you could just beat me up and walk away?" Jerse said, enjoying the sight of Krycek choking under his own 'arm'. Perspiration trickled down Krycek's forehead as he strained to breathe, weakly tugging at the prosthetic with his good hand.

Jerse leaned more heavily into the fake arm. Suddenly, both men heard a creaking sound as the old rusty door began to give way under their combined weight. The reddened hinges loudly cracked, bringing the door down into the building, and the two men along with it.

Krycek instinctively curled his head towards his chest, choking further on the prosthetic, but saving his head from banging the floor of the abandoned warehouse. His body was not so fortunate. The rusty door clattered to the floor, knocking the wind out of his lungs as Ed's entire body crushed down on top of him.

With the weight of his chest pushing down on Alex, Jerse watched his face change color as he was further deprived of oxygen. Right before Krycek's eyes began to roll into unconsciousness, Ed finally released the chokehold. Krycek coughed and sputtered, inhaling as much air as he could. Rising from Alex's upper body, Jerse sat up, straddling the wheezing man's hips. He tossed the prosthetic aside.

Krycek was in a bad spot, and he knew it. After a few more deep breaths of air, he began fast-talking. "Walk away while you still can, Ed. The people I work for aren't going to stop until they find you, and what they can do to you is far worse than anything you've gone through."

Jerse laughed sardonically. "I don't think so, Alex."

"Even more worse than your 'woman' problem, too," continued Krycek. "You think I don't believe you? You have no idea of the things I've seen and done. Things that make your little escapade sound like a fairy tale." Krycek discreetly balled his right hand into a fist.

Jerse caught Krycek's movement from the corner of his eye, grabbed his wrist in his left hand and pinned it above his head. "Bullshit!" Ed bellowed, hovering over his face.

"You know I heard her. I believe you," Krycek persisted. Jade eyes flittered over Jerse's countenance again.

"You snake! Like I'm gonna trust you."

"I am telling you that you should admit to the truth of what's happening to you," Krycek deadpanned.

Jerse frowned. "And what truth is that?"

"That there are events no one can explain. And that it happened to me, just as much as it did to you."

"Wrong!" Betty exclaimed. "Look closer."

Jerse searched Krycek's face for any sign of Betty's assumptions. The man was on his back beneath him with his only hand pinned above his head to the floor, but his green eyes brazenly bore into Ed's as if this vulnerability was of no consequence. His taught, coiled body tensed under Ed's thighs. Jerse tightened his grip around Krycek's wrist, who sharply inhaled. Lips parted, alarmed. Good. This is what he wanted, to have that scumbag at his total mercy.

Ed leaned closer, "And yet...there is still another truth to be confessed." Jerse glided his burnt, right hand up Krycek's chest and came to a stop at his throat, threatening fingers touching skin. "You're a liar and a thug," he stated. Beneath his palm, he felt the hit man's Adam's apple bob up and down in a nervous gulp.

Jerse sneered, savoring Krycek's uneasiness. He finally moved his hand away from the throat, up the side of his face, and came to a stop at his head. Much to Alex's further trepidation, Ed curled his fingers into the tufts of his dark hair and tugged. After feeling a surge of satisfaction at the sight of Alex's wary, shifting eyes, Jerse crushed his lips down on Krycek's mouth, forcefully invading it with his tongue. A throat for a throat, an arm for an arm, and now a malicious fuck for a malicious mindfuck. Ed couldn't have formulated a more perfect trinity of retribution. Beneath his fingers, Jerse felt Krycek's blood pulsating within its wrist. His tongue savagely raided the killer's mouth in domination, waiting for Krycek to squirm, to try and get away, or any sign to show he was hating it. Yet nothing but an impulsive, if not surprised, response came from Alex, who met every fierce tongue lashing with his own. Ed hastily pulled back, dismayed and panting.

Alex was chuckling heartily. "Don't tell me," he said in between guffaws. "She put you up to this, right?" A mouthful of teeth leered at him between freshly chafed, reddened lips.

Ed's irritation level rose several notches. "Why can't you just stay scared shitless like a normal person?"

Betty joined in laughing, her sound intermingling with Krycek's snickering as if they were sharing a private joke. "Mmhmm, this is why I have to do everything myself. A tip on the house, sweetheart: trying to punish a thug by assaulting him is like flinging mud at a pig; both of them are gonna lick it up. And now so can you, baby."

Krycek's tongue slithered between parted lips. Jerse slightly panicked, aghast. A man like that is not supposed to have rosebud lips. The same mocking eyes grazed down the length of Ed's body, amused to see him turned hard.

"You can thank me later for catchin' him for ya," she chirped.

Jerse's face flushed in complete embarrassment. "Betty..." he pleaded aloud for mercy.

Krycek's eyes gleamed in amusement. "So, she is in there."

"I'm the only one in me!" Ed tried to grasp any semblance of control.

"Well, make up your mind. I don't have all night." Biting his lower lip, he lifted his hips and nudged Jerse where it counted. Ed felt a warm bulge push up against his crotch.

"The fuck." Jerse sent Krycek another flying fist to the face. "And damn you, too, Betty. I didn't sign up to get this creep off." He shifted off Krycek, rose to his feet, and started walking away.

Krycek spat out blood and saliva on the floor, leering at Ed in sparked fury. "What did you think would happen?" he called after him. "That I'd shake like a little schoolgirl and beg you not to rape me?" Krycek grabbed his prosthetic, attached it back onto his arm, and scrambled to his feet. "It's gonna take a lot more than a fuck to ride a power trip." He rolled his head, leisurely stretching his neck muscles. "Get your ass back here, Ed." Krycek knew what Jerse was capable of now, and he decided it would be fun to turn his mark into his trick for tonight. One thing Krycek could count on was whether or not he had a bad day, he still ended it with a bang.

Jerse stopped, facing away from Alex. "It was a mistake," he said over his shoulder. He couldn't have been any more exhausted. A ragged gasp erupted from his mouth to suddenly feel Krycek's warm, rough fingers delicately tracing his jaw. Ed's eyes followed the hand up the arm, the shoulder, the neck, and to his face.

Jerse was getting moody again and Betty was counting on it. "Damn you, Eddie, I told you to listen to me. It's one thing to put up a great fight, but when it's with yourself, you're always going to lose." He felt Krycek's fingers tightly wrapping around the back of his neck. "Do you really want to stifle yourself and burn out? That's pathetic. You've thrown more than enough angsty fits to last you and me the rest of our lives." The other man's face began to move closer. "Now then. You're gonna get over yourself and let this hot man fuck you."

"What?! But I'm not-" Ed began.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, did you even hear anything I just said?" she interrupted.

"I did, but- oh!" he was cut off again, this time by Krycek who finally assaulted him with a rough kiss and possessively pulled his hips far, far away from the concept of personal space. The grinding was positively disorienting.

Krycek's pressed his teeth against Jerse's jugular vein. His tongue extended along the skin, then with his lips closing on Ed's throat, he sucked almost painfully. Ed's eyelids instantly slid shut and his mouth dropped open. His fingers sunk into Alex's hair, massaging the black strands and taking in the sensation of his wet mouth sliding up to his right ear. Krycek bit his earlobe and released it after a slow, sensual tug-of -war with his teeth. His moist tongue darted out and traced the whorls in Jerse's ear. Krycek stopped. "Breathe," he whispered, with breath cooling the wetness left behind and sending Jerse's hairs to stand on end.

Eddie gasped new air into his heaving chest, and steadied against Krycek to shake off the faint, oxygen-deprived dizziness. He hadn't even realize he had stopped breathing.

Krycek was clearly amused. "Something tells me you're new to this. Or rather, someone." Alex fearlessly smoothed his right hand up from Jerse's waist, across his chest, and laid it deftly on the charred remains of his tattoo.

"Hey, doll."

"Hey yourself, lady. You're running this show, aren't you? " Krycek delivered a half-cocked smile in Betty's direction.

She giggled, "Oh I wouldn't say it's just me," she said as Jerse dipped his left hand under the back of Krycek's jeans, seized his bare buttock, and firmly pressed himself harder against Alex's hips. Krycek hissed in approval.

"And it's 'Betty' to you. I don't work that "ma'am" or "lady" business, got it?"

"Anything you say...doll." Krycek taunted.

"Don't get smart, or I'll have him tie you down."

"Promise?" Alex smirked, and suddenly groaned as Ed's hand squeezed lower.

Ed placed his right hand in the crook of Krycek's right elbow and pushed his hand off Betty.

Alex's brow crinkled in protest. After dealing with alien conspiracies and the Syndicate, it wasn't easy coming up with entertainments that didn't feel mundane and bored him to tears. He was enjoying toying with this unexplainable, sexy-sounding, phenomenon. Too bad Mulder and Scully couldn't see how fun the plain X-Files could be. Too bad it took someone with Krycek's crappy luck to appreciate it.

"I can think of better things to do than stand around talking to psychotic bitches," said Ed as he enveloped Krycek's fake finger in his mouth, and pulled it out in one achingly long, slow suck.

Krycek inhaled sharply and felt his stomach flip. He swore he could feel Ed's wet mouth surrounding his digit, even if it was his fake one. Nothing like a constant case of phantom limb syndrome to guarantee a mindfuck. But Jerse had quite a valid point. "You're right," he murmured. "Standing around nailing psychotic bitches is better."

Ed pretended to look offended, "fuck you."

"Indeed," said Alex and hooked a fake finger into the belt loop closest to Jerse's jean button. With a skillful tug of the loop, he popped the button open.

"Nice trick," Jerse commented.

"I think so, too," Alex stared at Jerse's lips.

Ed looked away, feeling a little timid under such bold inspection. "We should, uh, get out of h--"

Krycek cut him off again, prying apart lips with his tongue and winding it around Ed's tongue with bold, greedy strokes. He tasted the faint, salty and metallic flavor of blood from his own mouth where Jerse had punched him, along with scotch. Grasping the back of Ed's head, he kissed more deeply. The sound of mouths smacking, air rushing out of nostrils, and stubble scraping like sandpaper surrounded their ears. Ed moaned, allowing Krycek free reign of his body.

Alex stopped as unexpectedly as he started, panting. He swung his fake arm across the back of Jerse's shoulders. "Let's go," he sniffed, already steering themselves out of the alley.

"Where to?"

"Ever been to The Underground?" Krycek asked as they walked down the block.

At that question, Ed heard Betty's mischievous cackling reverberating in his head. Ed knew of the place. One doesn't scope out seedy bars and not eventually know a thing or two about the other kinds of places around. "Woo boy! It's too bad I have to lug you around everywhere, because, unlike you, this guy's got taste," she said.

"Some taste! I'm not going for that leather and S&M stuff," Ed persisted to Betty.

"Could have fooled me," Krycek responded, oblivious to Ed's internal dialogue.

"Well, it's not surprising coming from you. I've never seen someone get turned on when having the shit beat out of them."

Alex gave him a sideways glance. "Modern day evolution, Jerse. Instead of just coping with pain, adapting to it will make you thrive. And make you more alive than anyone else," he announced. His tone contained a hint of desperate bravado. Krycek then scoffed, "If you want to call that little temper tantrum of yours back there a beating, okay. But I beat the shit out of you," he said brushing his fingertips across Jerse's exposed burns to drive home the point.

Jerse grimaced, but stayed silent. However wretched Jerse's recent life experiences were, if the rest of his days never turned for the better, he'd still have the love for his children and the recollections of his gladness to hold on to. But to meet an individual who espoused such an "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" attitude towards suffering, to the extent that it became a turn-on, conjured up sympathies Ed didn't think he would ever be directing towards Krycek, and he wondered kind of cruel life Alex had lived.

Krycek's eyes shifted tensely. "What is it?" he said, feeling Jerse's gaze.

"You can't change my mind; we're not going to The Underground," Ed deflected.

"Your loss. And now I'm at a loss as to where to go," Krycek said in mock irritation. "The alley wasn't so bad," he mused.

Ed wrapped an arm around Krycek's waist and pulled him to a stop. "We're here."

"And 'here' would be where...?" Krycek pursed his lips.

Jerse reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a key chain, as well as pulling Krycek up the steps of the building with his other arm. "This is my place." he said.

"How convenient."

"Yeah, I actually held priority for locations nearest to the bars when I was going through the divorce," he said. "Not exactly Buckingham Palace, but it does the job."

Once inside Jerse's apartment, Krycek wasted no time. He pushed Ed into the bedroom and shoved him on the bed while falling on top of Ed himself. More heavy frenching ensued as Krycek grasped Jerse's fly and unzipped it in a sharp swipe, releasing his penis. He pulled away from Jerse's lips and peered down. A commando boy, just like him. The corners of his mouth bent upwards in a pleased smile, and he thrashed his tongue against Ed's again, matching every stroke with the stroke of a hand on Jerse's hardening dick.

Thrusting his hips into Krycek's fist, Ed eagerly moaned into his vodka-tinged mouth and clutched the back of his leather jacket in a death grip. The need to touch bare skin overpowered him, and Ed clawed at both lapels of Krycek's jacket, sliding the soft leather down his shoulders and off his arms. Krycek sat up, shrugged it off, and tossed it aside. He crossed his arms, pulling his fitted gray shirt over his head.

Ed's jaw slackened, taking in the carved, marble-like hardness of Krycek's chest and the contours of his arm muscles gliding under the skin. He was only familiar with the endless undulations of soft curves from the women he had bedded. Each one of them had been luscious and delectable in their own way. And now in an entirely different way, Alex sat on his knees before him. Krycek wasn't soft; he was coarse and hard. He also wasn't sweet; he tasted salty, even bitter. And far from delectable, he was deliberate and forceful. Facing this strange, new territory, Ed felt a head rush as if he was standing at the edge of a precipice. The anticipation was a little frightening.

"Are you just gonna lie there all night gawking?" A shirtless Krycek had his hands resting on his thighs and his head cocked to one side, entertained by Jerse's wonderment. Although Ed didn't find his trick delectable, Krycek did and was impatiently ready to get started.

Ed solemnly responded to the challenge by sitting up and removing his shirt. He met Alex face to face, lips barely grazing his. Krycek made the tiniest of leers at Jerse's overt tease. His smugness quickly faded when Ed sunk a hand down the front of Alex's jeans, rubbing in a steady, insistent beat. Krycek rolled his head back and held on to Jerse's hips. Then pulling his hand out of the jeans, Ed unzipped Alex and echoed his movement in kind. As Krycek caught Ed's mouth into another vigorous tongue wrestle, the two men's exposed erections ground against each other, their bodies swaying back and forth in mindless sensation.

Jerse looped his hands underneath Krycek's arms and held the back of his shoulders, driving him backwards onto the starched, white comforter. As Ed stretched out on top of him, it was amazing to feel every inch of his body pressing up against his own. His lips wandered to Krycek's left shoulder, embedding his teeth into the flesh. Nuzzling the toughened muscles with his lips and nose, Ed shifted his hands from both shoulders to grasp the top of Krycek's left arm. Fingers, scratched from the earlier brawl, roamed the line between skin and plastic until they found the uniquely crafted clasp of the prosthetic. Alex slid his right hand through the man's brown hair and tugged, yanking Ed's face upwards. Hotly incensed green eyes fumed at those brown ones. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm taking it off." The brown eyes jetted back and forth, studying Alex's face.

"Like hell. Leave it," he tightened his fingers into a fist in Jerse's hair.

"Hey, don't worry. It's alright," Ed assured him. "Nothing I haven't seen before," he smiled at his cliché. He began to open the clasp.

"I said 'No'!" Krycek snarled, and roughly jerked Ed's head, half-rolling, half-shoving the startled man beneath him.

The outburst caused Jerse's skull to bang into the headboard. "Okay, okay!" he winced.

Krycek ground his erection against Ed's as a reminder of what he was there for. Ed exhaled loudly and unwittingly spread his legs, wrapping them around Krycek's waist and rubbing back with his hips. Alex's body slid back and forth in a faux-fucking action, and his face wrinkled, focused towards gratification.

With every grind of his hips, Ed's pelvis pressed upward to capture the sensation of every texture and vein in Alex's thick penis rubbing against his. He didn't think his nerves could take anymore, but at the same time he just couldn't get enough. "Uh ..Aleh...God..!" he pleaded, in spite of not having a clue why he was begging for something he was already getting. And getting. And getting.

"Just 'Alex' will do fine," Krycek quipped between strained gasps.

It wasn't long until Jerse's cock began leaking, which caused the experience of Krycek's grinding dick to become even more palpable. Alex grunted behind squeezed lips. The precum lubricated their skin and all friction was lost as their cock-job rose to a frenzied level. Ed's short, hoarse cries filled the bedroom, surrounding his own ears, yelling incoherently and trying not to come.

"Do it," Krycek said, panting, as a few drops of sweat rolled off the tips of his black locks.

Jerse let go and shot his semen, splattering his own chest. Alex didn't stop moving against him, and his sweat mixed with Jerse's cum in a wet, slippery mess as he continued grinding. Then bracing himself with his fake arm, Krycek enclosed both his and Jerse's cocks in his fist and jerked off vigorously until he came onto Jerse's chest with an open-mouthed sigh. "Ohh...Fuck!" he moaned.

Coming down off his orgasm, Jerse's pulse began to slow to his normal rate. Clarity returned to his vision, and he absent-mindedly caressed his own right pec, sliding his fingers around in the cooling fluids. He noticed the comforter was twisted in disarray, and somehow the sheets underneath weren't spared the ravaging, either. On top of that, he was feeling quite sticky. He had the suspicion that only Alex Krycek could pull off making such a huge, dirty mess with their pants still on and not even having fucked yet.

And there was Alex, lying on his back with his pants almost riding off his waist and with each side of his fly curled outwards, framing his goods as if to proudly display it to the world. Jerse silently laughed; as if Alex wasn't cocky enough, it looked like his clothes had absorbed his swaggering attitude, too.

Krycek caught Jerse staring at him again. 'First-timers.' he thought. As much as he liked to fuck-and-run, though, he kind of liked the look of this one. Not only was he more handsome than most of his flings, he had an appealing sincerity that didn't get under Krycek's skin. That, and Ed's apparent awe made Alex's ego tick.

Krycek stood up, kicked off his boots, and pushed his jeans to the floor. Stepping out of them, he eyed Jerse's burned right arm. He wanted to meet her again. That voice, that brazen attitude and spirited tone told him she not only had a hand in this, but she was probably in the driver's seat.

Though he'd indulged his twisted appetite for all sorts of dark excursions, he never had a woman and a man together in one body. If that's what this was. It had been such a long time since he worked the X-Files unit that his paranormal investigative skills had gone a little rusty. Either way, coming across any new way to get off excited him. His fingers itched to lay over that spot on Jerse's bicep, to hear her low voice ring in his ears and drug his sensibilities once more.

He moved around the foot of the bed, his haunches swinging languidly as he walked, and stopped at Jerse's side. Ed glanced up at him uncertainly, wondering what he was going to do next.

"How's Betty?" Krycek asked.

"How should I know?" Jerse wished Krycek hadn't brought her up. He noticed the more physical he became with Krycek, the more Betty had become blissfully absent. And he didn't want to tempt her emergence with any talk about her.

"Maybe I should ask her myself."

"Maybe not."

"Maybe you should leave that up to her."

"Maybe you should mind your own damned business!" Ed got up, shoved Alex aside, and stormed off to the bathroom.

At the sink, Jerse jerked open the faucet and dampened a washcloth. The last thing he wanted was to hear that insane, catty, pushy, screeching voice again, and he was not about to let that happen just because it made some pervert hard.

"Fucking you is my own damned business." Jerse looked up to see Krycek's face reflected in the cabinet mirror.

"Yeah. Me. Not her. So forget about it." Ed wiped off his chest.

"You're the only one in you," Krycek repeated as he moved in close behind Eddie. He licked the spot between Ed's ear and jaw.

Ed bristled, irritated that Krycek had shrewdly cut off the grounds on which he was denying him. Well, he could bat, too. "Since it's just me, I guess you have a sick, burnt-arm fetish or something equally perverse."

"No different than your fake-arm fetish," Krycek countered.

"I don't have a fake-arm fetish," Ed retorted.

"And I thought you were just gripping it and shoving it in my throat and licking it and sucking it all for me. Soo generous of you." Krycek whispered in his ear while holding his gaze in the mirror. He ran his hands up both Jerse's arms before Jerse realized what Krycek was doing.

"Hey!" said Ed in pain as Alex's hand tightly clamped over the burned tattoo.

"I see what you have to put up with to get him to do anything," Krycek said, closing his eyes in anticipation.

Jerse waited in anticipation and dread as well. Then, a strange thing happened. He smelled Krycek's salty breath as it tickled his neck. He felt the sweaty chest sticking to his back. He looked at the reflection of his own fearful eyes. But he didn't hear a single word in his head. Not even a snicker. He saw Krycek's mouth twist as his patience began to wear thin, and it was then that he even dared to think it was over. Still, he did not want to think too soon, and was left to test the waters.

"Are you gonna stand around like that all night?" Ed threw back Krycek's words, a variation on a theme. He turned around out of Krycek's grasp to face him. "Let me take it off."

Alex scowled at him. They'd been through this once already.

"Oh, I get it. You want me to take it by force, bloody and brutal, the way that makes you hard."

"Do you want to test that theory?" Krycek said, his voice thick with warning.

Ed laid a hand on his left shoulder. "I told you. That's not my style."

Krycek scoffed. "That's right, you're from the 'pretty please' camp."

"You're going to beg me before the end." Ed was surprised he was talking like this.

Krycek gave a patronizing nod. "Come on, then."

Ed took Alex's fake hand in his, rubbing the inside of the plastic wrist with his thumb. His other hand flew to the line where the attachment met his stump. His fingers pressed against the sides of the delicate nerve endings and Krycek grimaced in pain that was more than just physical.

"Stop," he said.

Ed stopped and replaced his fingers with his tongue. This time Krycek gasped aloud. No one had ever gone near his stump in this way. Not that he would have let them, but no one even showed interest, and he didn't blame them. To the world, his fake arm was something to be looked upon with sympathy and sense of complete and total loss. Every one of his flings had taken in the sight of it with shock, remorse, and then complete oblivion as if the compassionate thing to do to was not bring it up. Bullshit. Overtly ignoring it was the same thing as saying it was something shameful, and something to be rejected because he was not complete.

But here was Jerse, reveling in it, like it was a trophy of his hardiness instead of a memento of his loss. And as Krycek saw Jerse caressing the prosthetic and running his careful tongue along the frayed nerves, it fired up the ingrained sensory mappings in his brain, persisting in the memory that his arm was still there. He saw Jerse's fingers run up the plastic forearm. That sight, and with Jerse prodding his broken nerves, his brain mechanically put two and two together and sent him the experience of heat and skin that wasn't there. He couldn't believe it. He could feel it. It was like a case of phantom limb, but infinitely magnified. It was the most sensual thing he had encountered in a long time, and immediately he needed more.

Jerse began to suck fervently, even painfully now, but Krycek didn't care. His tongue ran back and forth, skin, plastic, skin, plastic. If Krycek wasn't looking down at it, he wouldn't have felt the difference. But he wanted it off. "Ed," he sighed. "Ed."

Ed just grazed his teeth along the edge in response.

"Oh God, Ed! Please, I can't!" A hot tear leaked out of each eye as he squeezed them shut. The sensory rush was a tidal wave, and Krycek wanted to ride it for as long as he could stay conscious. "Take it..." he panted.

"Mmm?" Ed's lips vibrated against his flesh.

Krycek felt his dick prodding against his own belly. "...off!" he exclaimed.

"Aren't you going to say, 'pretty please'?" Ed said.

"Ah...FUCK!" Krycek roared, making a move to grab the clasp and rip off his prosthetic. Ed slapped the good arm away with a firm backhand and dived in for the clasp himself.

Much to Krycek's almost agonizing bliss, Ed rimmed his tongue around the edge of his stump now that the prosthetic was off. He wasn't going to make it if Jerse kept it up.

"....Ed." he chanted again. "Get out of those.....fucking....Ahh...pants."

Krycek bent his head down, colliding his lips with Ed's in a hungry kiss. Groaning at the feeling of Krycek's tongue sliding into his mouth, Ed reached behind himself with one hand, opened the front of the mirror, and blindly groped for the tube of lube. He closed his fingers around it, and let Alex push him back into the bedroom. In mid-lip lock, Ed felt an unusual ridge pattern on the cap of the tube in his hand, and raised it up to his face for a better look.

"Wait." Ed gasped, pulling away from Alex.

"Oh hell, what?" said Krycek.

"This is toothpaste." Ed said, and set it down on the end table.

Krycek rolled his eyes. "I'll go get it. You get out of those jeans."

When Krycek returned, he took a look at the lithe, naked body stretched on the sheets and smiled ravenously.

Ed saw Krycek's grip tighten on the tube. "Just so you know, I haven't done this before," he told him.

Fresh meat. "I know," said Krycek. "I've never had any complaints," he added, smiling wider. Krycek clambered onto the bed and planted each of his knees on the outside of Jerse's stretched legs. "Turn over. On your knees," he said.

Jerse positioned himself on all fours, glancing over his shoulder. He heard the lube's lid snap open. The cold air against his buttocks heightened his nervousness and anticipation as Krycek prepared himself.

After a few seemingly endless moments, Alex pressed a lubricated thumb around his opening. "Relax," he instructed.

Ed gasped at the sensation and tightened his muscles. With his pelvis, Krycek insistently nudged Ed's rear end. "I said, 'relax'," he repeated, his hipbones kneading Jerse's butt.

Ed felt his muscles relax under the warmth of Krycek's hips and the heat of his lubed cock pressed between his bottom cheeks.

"Yes," said Krycek as he rocked them back and forth, continuing his dry humping. Then, without breaking his rhythm, he pushed the tip of his head inside Ed.

Ed exhaled forcefully, vainly trying to will himself to stretch wider and adapt to the pain. Krycek's fingers wrapped around his cock and tugged with every backward sway of their bodies, expertly balanced without his prosthetic on. He pushed himself further in at each undulation, and Ed squeezed his muscles around Alex.

Krycek momentarily saw spots in his vision, evenly withdrawing almost completely from Jerse's body before sliding back inside.

Ed's heart hammered in his chest as Krycek began to move steadily, riding him and pumping his penis in his fist. Ed grunted as the pain he had been bearing all this time began to dissolve into a tingling sensation.

Krycek gritted his teeth, and finally came. Ed braced himself on one arm and joined his other hand with Krycek's at his own cock and pumped, pushing himself back against Krycek's shooting penis, feeling the warmth of semen filling him. Not long after, Ed came spurting over his sheets.

Alex pulled out, and ran a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. "Not bad for your first time."

Ed turned around and laid down, panting on his damp sheets. "That was...intense."

"Where do you keep your towels?" Krycek asked.

Alex still stood on his knees over Ed, with his one hand resting on his hip. The pose accentuated...well, everything, as if he was a statue on display.

"Hall closet. Top shelf." said Ed as he leaned over and opened the nightstand drawer, extracting a box of cigarettes and a lighter.

Krycek wrinkled his nose at the cigarettes and climbed off the bed. Lighting up a cigarette, Ed nonchalantly watched his naked form disappear into the hallway. Alone now, the silence ringing in his ears was deafening. The apartment felt like a silent tomb. His mind was heavy, as if whatever had gotten a hold of it had now let go, and only Jerse alone bore the weight of his mental self. It was such a strange feeling after so long. He swallowed nervously. "Betty?" a sensitive whisper. Only the sound of falling water responded as Krycek turned on the shower in the bathroom.

Police sirens ran into the distance, the ceiling fan kept on whirling. Ed Jerse exhaled, watching the tendrils of smoke unfurl towards the ceiling. He moved his hand to the ashtray next to him and snuffed out the cigarette. With glassy eyes, he rose up from the bed, heading to the shower for another taste. He smiled his first genuine smile in a very long time. Ding, dong the bitch was dead.