"Make Mine a Double, by Jennie

Make Mine a Double

by Jennie

Pairing: Victor/Alex, XF/Once A Thief

Rated: M

Author's Notes: NickZone Valentine story for DeAnna

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I suppose Toronto isn't the worst possible city to be alone in on Valentines Day. At least it's not filled with people trying to kill me. On the other hand, now that I'm officially dead, not too many people are actively trying to kill me any more.

I almost miss the challenge, you know? At least it reminded me that I *was* alive. Which is kinda pathetic, if you stop to think about it.

Let's not, if it's all the same to you.

I'm out wandering around downtown because, let's face it, sitting in yet another of ten thousand anonymous motel rooms, watching some saccharine sweet romantic movie in solitary splendor is so entirely not me that it defies description. So is retreating from every bar and restaurant I enter because it's filled with happy couples or gangs of singles even more alone than I am, but, hey, details don't really matter, right?

I turn a corner and, thank god, a Starbucks. The barista looks almost pathetically grateful to see me and prepares my large mocha - with extra whipped cream, thank you - in record time. Even better, the woman appears to feel no need to converse beyond necessary questions, so I drop a few bucks into the tip jar before turning away.

"Oh," she says softly.

Naturally, I assume that her noise is in response to the large tip, so I'm grinning just a bit as I fit the top onto my cup and lift my eyes to can the room for a seat.

And meet my own eyes. Staring at me from my own goddamned face. On top of *my* body. What the-

"What the fuck!" My twin delivers my words in - you guessed it - my voice.

In a strangely perverse mirror ballet, we each take a step back, freeze, stare at each other for a breath, drop our coffees, and reach under our left arms for our weapons. Which we then level at each other in matching stances.

"Freeze," he says.

Well, thank fucking god! He's not me after all. Oh, he's trying to be as coldly menacing as I know myself capable of being, but the guy just doesn't quite have my... touch. And it's slightly amusing, to tell you the truth. I feel as if I'm looking at myself in some kind of an alternate universe - you know, Alex Krycek as he would have been if he'd never betrayed Mulder and killed his father and so on and so forth, e-i-e-i-fucking-o.

I give the situation just a moment more of thought, debating whether to kill the guy on general principles or to...

Oh, what the hell? I engage the safety on my glock and grin at him. "Cloning technology really has improved, hasn't it?"

He blinks at me, confused, still stubbornly pointing his gun in my direction. Between my eyes, actually. "Wha-"

"C'mon, let's replace these coffees and talk." I hold out my right hand in offering. "I'm Alex. Alex Krycek."

"Um." Warily, he lowers his nine millimeter, shifting it into his left hand before slowly reaching out to shake my hand. "Vic. Mansfield."

I know that I'm smirking under his watchful eyes. Also know that he's growing more and more irritated by my expression. I just can't help myself, though.

The mixture of disbelief, suspicion and fascination in his gaze is... cute. Yeah, I said cute. No, that's not a word I use often, but in this case it really is appropriate.

"Where did she find you?" he suddenly asks.

"She?"

"The Director. My boss - as if you didn't know."

He tries to sneer at me.

Did I say cute? This guy is absolutely adorable.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I don't know your 'Director'. She must be very interesting to work for, though."

He narrows his eyes and glares more fiercely.

Be still my heart.

"Fine," he says shortly. "Say I believe that you don't know her... just don't think for one second that I believe our meeting is a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence, Vic."

"Oh? So how do you explain this?"

"I don't. Wouldn't even hazard a guess."

That shuts him up for a minute. A short minute.

"What did you mean? That cloning technology thing you said You... weren't serious. Were you?"

"I... it's a possibility worth considering."

"The hell you say." Oh yeah! Got his dander up with that one. "I'll have you know that I know my parents - don't like them, but I'm sure that there was no... cloning involved in my conception."

I shrug. "Okay."

"That's all you have to say? *Okay*."

"Look, I've seen a lot of unexplainable things in my day. Unexplainable and unbelievable things. I'm not gonna go into details and I'm not gonna try to convince you. So, yeah, okay."

"Right." His voice clearly exhibits severe doubts as to my sanity.

"I'm not crazy. Not in that way."

He digests this in silence, sipping is coffee while studying me with suspicious eyes.

"What do you do? For a living."

Oh, he's *really* gonna love this. "I was a cop. Then an agent with the FBI. Now I... I've gone independent. I'm a spy."

"Huh. I was a cop, too. In a former life." No comment on the spy thing. Why do I suspect that he thinks I'm delusional and humoring the crazy man?

"And now you work for this 'Director'."

"Yeah. She's... it's... I can't explain."

I wave my hand in the air. "Understood."

And, enough with this serious heart-to-heart bull. "Tell me Vic Mansfield, what's a pretty man like you doing alone on Valentines Day?"

He snorts. "I could ask you the same question, Alex Krycek.

I file away his lack of offense at being called pretty for later study and grin. "I'm all alone in a strange town. Reason enough?"

Another snort. "We both know that you could walk into any bar in this city and find a girl without even trying."

Restraining myself from pointing out that he too could find a girl very easily, I say teasingly, "Maybe I'd prefer a man."

He doesn't even blink at that. He just looks... intrigued And blinks at me slowly.

Oh boy. I'm being flirted with. By myself - in a manner of speaking.

"You're gay, too?"

"I'm bisexual."

"I... I see. This brings up some interesting possibilities, Vic Mansfield."

"Doesn't it though?"

Then, thank God, he blushes. Guess I didn't misjudge him so very much after all.

Back in familiar territory, I smile suggestively. "Gonna invite me back to see your... etchings?"

Damn, I hope I don't blush such a brilliant shade of red!

"I... um... Don't you think this is a little strange?"

"What?" I ask in all innocence. "Our resemblance?"

"Yes, dammit. It's. Wouldn't it kinda incestuous, the two of us..."

"Fucking?"

He coughs. "Yeah."

"More like masturbation, I think."

"*Masturbation*?"

"You know... jerking off, spanking the monkey, wanking..."

"Oh, Jesus," me moans.

I want to laugh. But manage to control the impulse. "But, hey, we're alone, horny, and attracted to each other. Where's the bad in that? What do you say we go to your place and see what happens?"

After a long period of silence, during which he weighs the pros and cons, he finally nods. "Okay. C'mon."

As I follow him outside, I can't help thinking about Mulder and his extreme possibilities.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll tell him about this night. Some day.

For now, though, I just want to know how it will end...

The end. Tease? Me? Dear me, no. Whatever makes you say that...?

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