155 (Okay, 157) Words, or The World's Shortest
Slash-Evidence Voyeurism Story Ever
by Saundra Mitchell

     Any number of things could have happened, considering that Krycek had let himself into the
apartment with nary a sound. He could have crept up the stairs silently, the sleeping occupants
of a blue-dressed bed completely unaware of his presence. He could have raised his Sig with
graceful poise, closing one green eye to sight with the other, his leather-gloved hand caressing
the gun. If he had done that, then he could have pulled the trigger, letting the room fill with an
empty whisper of a silenced weapon, then the dull spatter of bloodmist painting the tasteful
white walls.

    Yes, Alex Krycek could have done all of these things. His unfortunate conditional tense,
however, lay in the fact that rather than finding a slumbering Mulder and Bayliss, somnolently
peaceful as good federal agents and detectives should be at three a.m., he had found a
fucking Mulder and Bayliss. Somehow, it had just been more interesting to watch.

-Fin-