5: dealings: Krycek and John speak
5: dealings: Krycek and John speak, by disanddat
If John didn't know better he would think that Krycek had a scry-witch on staff, one whose sole purpose was to watch John Winchester and pick the most inconvenient moment possible for Krycek to interrupt John's life. As unlikely as that idea was, it would explain why the one person in the entire universe who knew the codes for it had buzzed directly into John's ear five seconds before the end of a hour long reading of a containment ritual in a dead language that John was struggling with already. Damn, but he hated that tiny device implanted just behind his earlobe, that’s why John rarely used it. It just felt too invasive.
John's voice had faltered in the middle of word. It wasn't much of a flaw, but it had been a flaw. That was why the padukahan wind-sprite had twirled around John, laughing, before rushing up out the gaping hole in the thatched roof. That was why it had vanished into the atmosphere when it was supposed to have been sucked into the bottle on the floor. It was a mercy that the thing was more interested in escaping than it was about taking revenge on John for its near capture. Air sprites were odd creatures.
Worst of all, John wasn't sure he would be justified ripping a bloody strip of skin off Krycek's back over the interruption. The single hail chime and two words Krycek had spoken weren't major. It's not like an earthquake had rattled the planet or the nearest sun had exploded. John should have been able to gloss over the minor interruption. The text had been right there in front of him. Except it was like an earthquake or an explosion. Krycek hated calling John directly, hated it with a passion, and would only surrender to the need under the direst of circumstances. In all the time Krycek and John had been able to openly access one another Krycek had only done it three times, while John was guilty of yanking Krycek's virtual-leash at least three times a year, every year.
John's stomach clenched up to the point it felt like it would create a black hole right in the center of his body. It took every bit of self-control John had not to rush to respond. Instead he gathered up the blessed yellow crystal bottle and the ancient book he had been reading from. Both were carefully stowed into his back-pack before John stepped out of the half-ruined hut. He had to step over bones, but better bones than half-rotted bodies. No animals should be interested in the village these days. This entire area was deserted enough that John had landed his ship right out in the open without fear of drawing attention. He'd crushed a few battered huts during the landing, but it wasn't like the people would ever return to this place now.
Despite that knowledge, John took another five minutes to haul out a scanner and check the area over for any signs of life before he tapped behind his ear and opened a comm-line, just in case. Securing the line and feeding in the verbal codes to return Krycek's hail took time. John gazed up at the darkening sky while he waited for the right connections to be made. One way or another this call would mean a rushed voyage was upon him.
"Winchester?" The name on the other end of the galaxy was used as a replacement for 'hello', 'what the hell took you so long' and possibly 'help me', but even so, it was clipped off and steady. More telling was the complete lack of background sound. No music, voices, or even the hum of nearby equipment filled the emptiness behind Alex Krycek's voice. Alex must have tucked himself away in an odd place to await John’s return call. Stations and ships were seldom silent, not completely.
"I've got a few minutes now," John prompted vaguely before falling silent and waiting for Krycek to respond. When John called their conversations were normally a violent dance of obscenities, demands and sometimes even indulgent affection if the timing was right. “Is it important or should I get back to you later?” Of course it was important, but still John took a certain, shameful pleasure in not being the petitioner this time.
"Your boy was by not so long ago. Are you sure you taught him the proper value of salt? Tsk, tsk, John. I'd almost think he was eating it like some home-world savage."
Krycek's teasing tone was just as wicked as usual, but he had already betrayed weakness, having called John. A flush of power and a cruel streak inside John made him want to bark out a cold laugh. "My son…” The way he voiced the words, in a rumbling growl, was a warning all by itself. “…is not something you should be taking an interest in, Krycek. I’ve told you that before.” John turned in place, uncomfortable in the eerie silence of the ruined village. His gaze raked the sky, checking for the possible, but unlikely, return of the sprite. “Now, was it really necessary to interrupt me and screw up the culmination of a year's research and days' worth of prep work to chat? Do I bother you when you're selling illegal weapons to five-year-olds to discuss the price of chicken's blood? Don't piss me off, boy."
Both of them played the silence game for a few breaths. John strained his ears but there wasn't anything behind Krycek. He had to settle for listening to the texture of Krycek breathing. It wasn't too fast. Alex knew better than to betray himself that way. But the sound was shallow. Hearing it so intimately, right in the comm-chip behind his ear, made John think of other times... times when Alex's chest would heave, his shoulders would shake and his voice would crack. It might have been a mistake, making the call out here instead of going into the ship and calling from the cockpit.
John bit back more than one question, too stubborn to speak again until Krycek gave something up.
Krycek caved first. He had to. "Where are you, Winchester? Anywhere local to Carterius Prime?"
"No." John considered the span that separated them. "I'm maybe 7 or 8 days out... if I were to leave right now." He hesitated before adding. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you, not yet."
“I know that,” Krycek snapped, his frustration getting the best of him. The pause that followed filled a silent count of ten. A faint ruffling sound slipped through the fragile connection before Alex spoke again in a softer, more coaxing tone. "I mean… I know, but..." Another scrape. Maybe Krycek's fingers brushing at his hair or face. He forced a breathy laugh. "Maybe I could meet you halfway. I could use a change of scenery. I'll buy you a drink. Name your station and I'll turn up a bar with some plasma wrestling. Naked whores covered with blood pulling each other's hair, that sounds Winchester-ish enough, I think."
No panic in Krycek's voice. John took that as a good sign, as a sign he had wriggling room. "I'm in the middle of something. Maybe another time." John would go. He had to go, more lives than Alex’s were at risk if he didn’t, but he didn’t have to make it easy on Krycek.
Another battle was fought in the silence between worlds. Something metallic thumped, maybe Krycek's head or boot against a pipe or wall. Almost, just almost, a sound like teeth grinding filtered through. "Fucking bastard." Krycek hissed, furious at having been forced to properly ask for help this time. "Please John."
"How bad is it?" Pleased with the concession, John acknowledged what the call was really about.
"The itch behind my eyes started this morning. I thought it was something else at first. I'm way too early. I know. The planets are skewed lately, weird shit is happening around here. Maybe..." A huff of air that might have been a laugh escaped Krycek. "I think I can bite it back for a few days."
"Three days..." John guessed, sifting through star-maps in his head. "That’s the best I can do. Diomattel, the surface not the station. Get on your private ship… alone… back tunnels and squeak around security. I know you can. Move your ass. Don’t you go near anyone between now and then. You might become contagious within hours. Call me when you get close and we'll pinpoint a spot."
A relieved sound escaped Krycek. "I can do that."
"And Krycek..." John spoke quickly before the other could cut the connection. "Alex, was Dean really there?"
"I treated him right, John. He doesn't realize what truly amazing bargains he gets out of me. I just ragged on him a little.” The normal husky glee had returned to Krycek’s tone. “We wouldn't want the other hunters getting all curious. I'll tell you all about it when I see you."
It was too much information, too happily offered up. John was going to have to carefully squeeze the real story out of Krycek when they met up, which would be easy enough, considering how desperate Alex would be by then. “Three days,” John repeated before disconnecting without saying good-bye. If he stayed on the line any longer he might be tempted to ask for information or supplies, which would not only undercut John’s temporary advantage, but it would also feel like asking for payment.
Krycek would bring bribes along for John. He always did, but he’d call the gifts ‘overstock’ or ‘extraneous gear’ to downplay how valuable they were. Putting an actual price-tag on the ritual John did that kept the black-oil virus inside Alex dormant would cause Krycek to grow resentful and would make John feel even more like a mercenary. John didn’t want to upset the uneasy alliance he had with Alex Krycek for not only his own sake, but for Dean’s sake as well. John could negotiate other suppliers if he was willing to risk his life or his freedom on a chance betrayal by a stranger, but no one else in existence would provide him… or Dean… with the sort of intel or supplies they got from Krycek, not securely.
John tensed and released, rolling his shoulders to shake off the knot that wanted to settle between them. He needed to get the ship underway and then he needed to manage a good stretch of sleep and some decent food. It wasn’t just the ritual that he was going to have to perform that would take energy and concentration. Dealing with Alex Krycek face to face required John to be at his sharpest.
If John didn't know better he would think that Krycek had a scry-witch on staff, one whose sole purpose was to watch John Winchester and pick the most inconvenient moment possible for Krycek to interrupt John's life. As unlikely as that idea was, it would explain why the one person in the entire universe who knew the codes for it had buzzed directly into John's ear five seconds before the end of a hour long reading of a containment ritual in a dead language that John was struggling with already. Damn, but he hated that tiny device implanted just behind his earlobe, that’s why John rarely used it. It just felt too invasive.
John's voice had faltered in the middle of word. It wasn't much of a flaw, but it had been a flaw. That was why the padukahan wind-sprite had twirled around John, laughing, before rushing up out the gaping hole in the thatched roof. That was why it had vanished into the atmosphere when it was supposed to have been sucked into the bottle on the floor. It was a mercy that the thing was more interested in escaping than it was about taking revenge on John for its near capture. Air sprites were odd creatures.
Worst of all, John wasn't sure he would be justified ripping a bloody strip of skin off Krycek's back over the interruption. The single hail chime and two words Krycek had spoken weren't major. It's not like an earthquake had rattled the planet or the nearest sun had exploded. John should have been able to gloss over the minor interruption. The text had been right there in front of him. Except it was like an earthquake or an explosion. Krycek hated calling John directly, hated it with a passion, and would only surrender to the need under the direst of circumstances. In all the time Krycek and John had been able to openly access one another Krycek had only done it three times, while John was guilty of yanking Krycek's virtual-leash at least three times a year, every year.
John's stomach clenched up to the point it felt like it would create a black hole right in the center of his body. It took every bit of self-control John had not to rush to respond. Instead he gathered up the blessed yellow crystal bottle and the ancient book he had been reading from. Both were carefully stowed into his back-pack before John stepped out of the half-ruined hut. He had to step over bones, but better bones than half-rotted bodies. No animals should be interested in the village these days. This entire area was deserted enough that John had landed his ship right out in the open without fear of drawing attention. He'd crushed a few battered huts during the landing, but it wasn't like the people would ever return to this place now.
Despite that knowledge, John took another five minutes to haul out a scanner and check the area over for any signs of life before he tapped behind his ear and opened a comm-line, just in case. Securing the line and feeding in the verbal codes to return Krycek's hail took time. John gazed up at the darkening sky while he waited for the right connections to be made. One way or another this call would mean a rushed voyage was upon him.
"Winchester?" The name on the other end of the galaxy was used as a replacement for 'hello', 'what the hell took you so long' and possibly 'help me', but even so, it was clipped off and steady. More telling was the complete lack of background sound. No music, voices, or even the hum of nearby equipment filled the emptiness behind Alex Krycek's voice. Alex must have tucked himself away in an odd place to await John’s return call. Stations and ships were seldom silent, not completely.
"I've got a few minutes now," John prompted vaguely before falling silent and waiting for Krycek to respond. When John called their conversations were normally a violent dance of obscenities, demands and sometimes even indulgent affection if the timing was right. “Is it important or should I get back to you later?” Of course it was important, but still John took a certain, shameful pleasure in not being the petitioner this time.
"Your boy was by not so long ago. Are you sure you taught him the proper value of salt? Tsk, tsk, John. I'd almost think he was eating it like some home-world savage."
Krycek's teasing tone was just as wicked as usual, but he had already betrayed weakness, having called John. A flush of power and a cruel streak inside John made him want to bark out a cold laugh. "My son…” The way he voiced the words, in a rumbling growl, was a warning all by itself. “…is not something you should be taking an interest in, Krycek. I’ve told you that before.” John turned in place, uncomfortable in the eerie silence of the ruined village. His gaze raked the sky, checking for the possible, but unlikely, return of the sprite. “Now, was it really necessary to interrupt me and screw up the culmination of a year's research and days' worth of prep work to chat? Do I bother you when you're selling illegal weapons to five-year-olds to discuss the price of chicken's blood? Don't piss me off, boy."
Both of them played the silence game for a few breaths. John strained his ears but there wasn't anything behind Krycek. He had to settle for listening to the texture of Krycek breathing. It wasn't too fast. Alex knew better than to betray himself that way. But the sound was shallow. Hearing it so intimately, right in the comm-chip behind his ear, made John think of other times... times when Alex's chest would heave, his shoulders would shake and his voice would crack. It might have been a mistake, making the call out here instead of going into the ship and calling from the cockpit.
John bit back more than one question, too stubborn to speak again until Krycek gave something up.
Krycek caved first. He had to. "Where are you, Winchester? Anywhere local to Carterius Prime?"
"No." John considered the span that separated them. "I'm maybe 7 or 8 days out... if I were to leave right now." He hesitated before adding. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you, not yet."
“I know that,” Krycek snapped, his frustration getting the best of him. The pause that followed filled a silent count of ten. A faint ruffling sound slipped through the fragile connection before Alex spoke again in a softer, more coaxing tone. "I mean… I know, but..." Another scrape. Maybe Krycek's fingers brushing at his hair or face. He forced a breathy laugh. "Maybe I could meet you halfway. I could use a change of scenery. I'll buy you a drink. Name your station and I'll turn up a bar with some plasma wrestling. Naked whores covered with blood pulling each other's hair, that sounds Winchester-ish enough, I think."
No panic in Krycek's voice. John took that as a good sign, as a sign he had wriggling room. "I'm in the middle of something. Maybe another time." John would go. He had to go, more lives than Alex’s were at risk if he didn’t, but he didn’t have to make it easy on Krycek.
Another battle was fought in the silence between worlds. Something metallic thumped, maybe Krycek's head or boot against a pipe or wall. Almost, just almost, a sound like teeth grinding filtered through. "Fucking bastard." Krycek hissed, furious at having been forced to properly ask for help this time. "Please John."
"How bad is it?" Pleased with the concession, John acknowledged what the call was really about.
"The itch behind my eyes started this morning. I thought it was something else at first. I'm way too early. I know. The planets are skewed lately, weird shit is happening around here. Maybe..." A huff of air that might have been a laugh escaped Krycek. "I think I can bite it back for a few days."
"Three days..." John guessed, sifting through star-maps in his head. "That’s the best I can do. Diomattel, the surface not the station. Get on your private ship… alone… back tunnels and squeak around security. I know you can. Move your ass. Don’t you go near anyone between now and then. You might become contagious within hours. Call me when you get close and we'll pinpoint a spot."
A relieved sound escaped Krycek. "I can do that."
"And Krycek..." John spoke quickly before the other could cut the connection. "Alex, was Dean really there?"
"I treated him right, John. He doesn't realize what truly amazing bargains he gets out of me. I just ragged on him a little.” The normal husky glee had returned to Krycek’s tone. “We wouldn't want the other hunters getting all curious. I'll tell you all about it when I see you."
It was too much information, too happily offered up. John was going to have to carefully squeeze the real story out of Krycek when they met up, which would be easy enough, considering how desperate Alex would be by then. “Three days,” John repeated before disconnecting without saying good-bye. If he stayed on the line any longer he might be tempted to ask for information or supplies, which would not only undercut John’s temporary advantage, but it would also feel like asking for payment.
Krycek would bring bribes along for John. He always did, but he’d call the gifts ‘overstock’ or ‘extraneous gear’ to downplay how valuable they were. Putting an actual price-tag on the ritual John did that kept the black-oil virus inside Alex dormant would cause Krycek to grow resentful and would make John feel even more like a mercenary. John didn’t want to upset the uneasy alliance he had with Alex Krycek for not only his own sake, but for Dean’s sake as well. John could negotiate other suppliers if he was willing to risk his life or his freedom on a chance betrayal by a stranger, but no one else in existence would provide him… or Dean… with the sort of intel or supplies they got from Krycek, not securely.
John tensed and released, rolling his shoulders to shake off the knot that wanted to settle between them. He needed to get the ship underway and then he needed to manage a good stretch of sleep and some decent food. It wasn’t just the ritual that he was going to have to perform that would take energy and concentration. Dealing with Alex Krycek face to face required John to be at his sharpest.