The site still ached, and often, but he'd learned to block it out. After all the pain he'd caused it seemed boorish to show his own, but somehow, some way, Mulder always knew.
Whether he was lazing about in bed, or quietly reading, or cautiously washing dishes in the kitchen, his lover-enemy-friend-father-confessor always saw, and came to soothe, to make amends.
Krycek knew an awful lot about the things that guilt could make a good man do. That's why he fought to keep his small frustrations to himself.
They both were much too damaged to take on each other's scars.