Beg, Borrow, Steal Away
by Hth


"Hey, Scully, I need an eggbeater."

His partner had looked happier to see him. The seconds ticked off, and she 
merely stood in the quarter-open doorway, watching him narrowly. "An 
eggbeater?"

"Yeah, I had this craving for lemon meringue pie, so I called my mom and got 
the recipe, but guess who doesn't own an eggbeater? Can I borrow one?" As 
all-consuming as Mulder's depressions were, his manic phases were just as 
imposing. His eyes were bright with a lunatic friendliness, and he was 
shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

"Fine. I'll get you an eggbeater; wait on the porch."

"Woof, woof, Scully. Come on, it's getting dark, and I'm cold." She revealed 
no flicker of compassion -- or of movement. "What's going on in there?"

She sighed. "You really shouldn't have come, Mulder."

"Scully, do you have a man in there?"

"Not exactly the way you think."

Mulder adopted his best love-me look and said, "It's really cold out here."

"All right. I'm going to let you in, but I want you to listen. He came to me. 
He needed a place to stay, and--"

The careful, soothing way she spoke, and the way she deliberatly passed over 
his name told Mulder everything. His good mood drained out of him instantly. 
"He's in there?" Scully nodded. "I don't -- why wouldn't he come to me?"

"He's worried that you're too serious about him. So am I. Mulder, you have to 
be careful dealing with someone like him, in his position. Even *he* 
understands that."

Mulder was incapable of pushing Scully out of his way, so he was reduced to 
crowding her, in a doomed attempt to be intimidating. "I want to see him. 
Dammit, Scully! You lied to me."

"I just never told you."

"Has this happened before?" Stiffly, she nodded. "Dammit. He could've been 
dead for all I knew, and you couldn't even--"

She stepped back, allowing him inside. "He's worried about you, Mulder. We 
both are."

Mulder's stomach clenched at the sight of Scully's couch transformed into a 
hospital bed, complete with blood-stained sheets and painkillers on the tv 
tray. "God. Where is he? Alex!"

"Take it easy, Mulder. I'm right here." He leaned against the kitchen 
doorframe, trying to capture the mellow, silky grace of the old Krycek. But 
through his thin white shirt, Mulder could see the deep gouge in his abdomen.
"You fuck." Mulder could feel his lip begin to quiver.

Sheepishly, Krycek looked down. "I didn't have a choice about coming here. I 
needed a couple of stitches."

Mulder didn't know which hurt worse: that his partner had kept secrets from 
him, or that his lover didn't trust him. Love-love, and it hurt all the way 
around. Tennis, anyone?

"Here's your eggbeater."

His hand curled around Krycek's fingers, and the eggbeater. Mulder kissed him 
long and hard. "Don't do this to me again. Please."

Alex shook his head and kissed him again. It felt like a promise, but maybe 
not one Mulder should believe.
.



Author's Note:  In case anyone remembers the old Eggbeater Short-Short challenge from SlashX, yes, this was written in response to that.  250 words and an eggbeater, dig it.