Title: Blind-Sided I Author: Savannah Black Feedback: wordraven@yahoo.com Rating: R Keywords: Scully/Krycek Spoilers: Two Fathers/One Son (alternate time line) Timeline: Sometime 6th Season Summary: Scully steps into the middle of a tricky situation. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Chris Carter and 10-13 Productions. Not for profit. Blind-Sided I by Savannah Black Stupid, stupid, stupid, Dana Scully thought as she felt a hard arm wrap around her waist from behind and jerk her back against a muscled chest. She had walked right into it. Her arms were trapped against her sides. Whoever he was, he had long arms. At first she wasn't even going to check out this building, but in the end she couldn't just dismiss it. She had to be thorough and check it out. Now she had, and now she was in trouble. She was about to start in a reasonable tone of voice to try to convince whoever this person was that had his arms around her that assaulting a federal officer was a bad idea when the words choked and died in her throat. A man appeared from out of the shadows on the other side of the room. He swooped forward quickly and silently but that wasn't what caused her to choke. What caused her to choke was the fact that she recognized him. "Krycek," she whispered. Mulder was nearby. She took a breath, preparing to scream, thinking she was going to die anyway. The unknown man behind her pressed his hand to her mouth, muffling any sound she wanted to make. The hand over her mouth pressed with such force that her head was pressed back immobile against his chest. She dimly realized he was as tall as Mulder, the top of her head barely reached his chin, and filed the fact away for use in future identification. It could be useful. If she lived through the next few minutes that is. With Krycek here that was a big if. It was dimly lit in this office but she could see enough to know that Krycek was not happy. He was frowning at her like she was an annoyance he really didn't want to deal with. That was fine with her. She really didn't want him to deal with her, either. She tried to look up and back, to see her captor's face, but he held her immobile. She couldn't see him, but his hand was still wrapped over her mouth and his scent was disturbingly familiar. At her brief struggle to look up, Krycek finally spoke. "Don't move and you might just live through this, Scully." His low warning growl sent a shiver of fear through her. She went perfectly still. The man who held her still hadn't made a sound. Krycek stared at him intently, as if trying to communicate something to him silently. She felt the man's nod on the top of her head then Krycek was moving closer. She tensed up again. Krycek held his right hand out to the man. "Handcuffs." The man hesitated, still strangely silent. "Trust me," Krycek said impatiently. With that, the man slowly began to peel his hand away from over her mouth. "Keep quiet and don't move," Krycek growled at Scully, "or I'll kill you and anyone who tries to help you." Scully felt the man tense along her back and was startled at the strange reaction. But he remained silent, one arm still tight around her waist and trapping her arms as he pulled out a set of handcuffs and handed them to Krycek. She could twist around now and see the face of the man holding her but decided it wasn't worth it. Not yet. Her first priority was survival and escape. Identifying the man that held her so tightly was only a secondary concern. Krycek nodded approval at her stillness then nodded at the man. The unknown man pushed her forward in front of him, moving them both deeper into the room, deeper into the shadows. She was acutely aware of his long, lean body moving against hers before she understood and began moving with him to avoid the contact. Krycek backed away to the side, watching silently as she was pushed forward. She came up short against a dark object that turned out to be a desk. The man pressed her forward, the edge of the desk digging painfully into her hip. She gave a small gasp of pain. The man's thigh that had been pushing her forward so insistently eased back a little. Before she could totally register this confusing action, Krycek was there. His thigh pressed against the back of her legs alongside the other man's, his hand going into her hair to hold her head facing forward. "'Cuff her," he ordered harshly. The other man hesitated only briefly before she felt his arm around her loosen and slowly slide from around her waist. He pressed against her before he regained his balance and pulled away. His hands slid up her arms to grip her elbows and pull her arms back. His hands trailed down her forearms to wrap around her wrists. Scully shuddered a little. He was taking his time. Either he was still hesitant, or he was enjoying himself way too much for her peace of mind. Krycek watched Spender awkwardly handcuff Scully and felt like snorting with exasperation. He could tell Spender really did not want to do this, but it was the only way. Scully knew him. It was not like she would believe Spender if he told her he just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought he'd stop by and have a chat with her least favorite one-armed assassin, Alex Krycek. Krycek's one good hand flexed in her hair. He absently noted that her hair was soft and silky and took a perverse pleasure in messing up its coifed perfection before his attention was once again drawn back to Spender. He could not believe he had been reduced to this: wet nurse for some green kid. It was only because Spender was the boss's kid that Krycek was even here, watching the kid's back and spewing shit about what a 'great man' his father was. It was enough to make him vomit. But it was okay. He could put up with it. In the past he had put up with far worse to get far less. When the day finally came, all those oh, so, superior 'Elders' were going to be on their knees, begging *him* for their very lives. In the meantime, he had to look out for the kid. His instincts told him that Spender wasn't really cut out for the game. Too upstanding. Too trusting in authority. Too much faith in the difference between right and wrong. He wasn't going to last and only paternal pride was blinding CGB into thinking he would. Consuming ambition was all that had gotten the kid this far. But that was okay with Krycek. As long as the punk didn't die while he was his responsibility, he didn't care. He had bigger things to worry about. Unfortunately, at the moment, the only priority he had was to keep Scully from discovering that it was Spender standing behind her and taking his sweet time handcuffing her. Krycek's eyes narrowed. Past the anxious sweat coating Spender's pale, narrow face he thought he detected a hint of arousal. He snorted impatiently and the kid fumbled nervously. Amateur, he thought. "Hurry up," he growled. Spender jumped at the rebuke and quickly finished fastening the cuffs. He went to step away but Krycek once again rebuked him. "Get your handkerchief and blindfold her." She jerked instinctively at that, but both men were too close. She couldn't get away and her movement only caused both men to press her harder into the desk. Krycek's hand dug into her hair. Scully swallowed and hoped neither man heard the nervous sound. Krycek's hold on her hair shifted slightly but was as tight as ever as he waited on Spender. He watched Spender fumble in his pocket for a white handkerchief. He opened it then folded it in half to make a huge triangle. Krycek moved his hand so Spender could wrap it around Scully's head, the triangle of cloth nearly covering her entire face. She jerked a little as true darkness descended over her eyes but didn't make a sound. Krycek's hand dropped from her hair to grip her arm tightly. "Take her weapon." Spender's hands fumbled down her body. Krycek watched derisively as he nervously pulled up her suit jacket and jerked her gun and holster from the small of her back. While he was at it he relieved her of her own cuffs and keys and even her cell phone. Scully gave a soundless sigh of relief when the unknown man's hands stopped patting over her. Spender dropped his haul on top of the desk with assorted thunks and clinks. Scully jumped at the unexpected noise, blindly trying to pierce the blindfold. Being unable to see was nerve-wracking. Spender stepped away from her nervously, but Scully was still conscious of Krycek's body against hers, limiting any move she could make. "What should I... " Scully's head jerked up, blindly seeking, as she heard the mystery man's voice for the first time. His voice was high and twisted with tension but still somehow familiar. "Shut up!" Krycek cut him off. Scully might recognize Spender's voice, and he couldn't allow that. Not yet anyway. Spender subsided with an abashed expression, realizing his error. He held Scully's gun awkwardly and shifted his weight from foot to foot. He was at a loss as to what he should do now but he had been forbidden to ask questions. He was nervous and torn. He realized the danger he was in if Agent Scully recognized him, but he also couldn't reconcile his conscience to the fact that this treatment of her was really necessary. Technically this was kidnapping. He had joined the FBI to stop kidnappers, not to become one. He had grabbed her in a blind panic, his first thought to keep her from seeing him, but as soon as he had touched her it had been too late. Now he didn't know what to do to fix the mess. Krycek jerked his head towards the door impatiently. "Go," he ordered. "I'll get in touch with you." At Spender's hesitation, Krycek let the contempt show clearly in his voice. "Go. Now." Spender would worry about his conscience later. He turned and headed for the door. Krycek didn't move for a long moment after the door had quietly shut behind him, giving him time to get out of the area. He held Scully's arm tightly and his leg pressed her against the desk absently. He needed to decide what to do with her. While he thought, Scully was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that she was alone with Krycek in a deserted building, that Mulder wouldn't come looking for her for at least another half-hour, that she was tightly handcuffed and as good as blind. But far worse than all that was the fact that for some reason she was acutely aware of Krycek's warm body so close to hers. She suppressed a shudder down to a small jerk as she tried to figure out where *those* strange thoughts had come from. She had been partnered with the world's sexist man for years and had managed to strangle any hint of sexual awareness between them. They had been to hell and back together and still had only a platonic relationship. Surely, she thought dizzily, she could control herself until she escaped from Krycek's clutches? Or would that be clutch? Could a man with only one arm have clutches? She strangled a wild, desperate laugh. "So what now, Krycek?" She was amazed at the calm professionalism of her voice. None of the fear or shameful awareness was in that cool, calm little voice. She could do this. She blindly jerked her arm in his grasp to get his attention. "Krycek?" she demanded. "What are you going to do with me?" His grip on her tightened when she tried to jerk away and his answer was automatic. "What would you like me to do to you, Scully?" he asked in a low purr. The innuendo was purely instinctive. He absently made the comment as his mind worried at the problem of what he really was going to do with her. She trembled in response and instantly had his full attention. He stared at her intently in the dim shadows, but she was still as stone now. Krycek wondered if it had been his imagination. There was one way to find out. He moved more fully behind her and pressed against her lightly, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "Any suggestions?" he asked in that same rough purr. "What do you *want* me to do to you?" He emphasized 'want' with a small thrust of his groin against her butt. She jerked and gasped. He enjoyed her reaction, even if it was only from fear. He buried his nose into the strands of hair at the back of her neck and inhaled deeply. Sweet and soft, like the feel of her body against his, but nothing like the mind and will encased in that body. Sharp and hard and fearless were words that best described her mind and will. Even the idea that Scully could be afraid of anything was mind-blowing. "Get away from me, you pervert," she snarled. Krycek was reassured. She may be afraid, but she would die before she would admit it. That was the Scully he knew. In deference to her tightly held control, he took a step back and gave her some space. There was no need to torment her. She was one of the few women he respected, even if they were on opposite sides. Even if she only *thought* they were on opposite sides. Basically they were striving for the same goal, just in different ways. She wanted to stay within the law to catch the conspirators. She still believed in justice while he had lost faith in justice a long time ago and only used the law for his own ends. But he did respect her. He would make this ordeal the least traumatic he could out of respect for her. "Relax, Scully," he reassured her. He pulled the blindfold off her and stuffed it in a pocket. "I'll take you home and let you call Mulder. I'm sure that's what you're dying to do." He pulled her up and away from the desk. "Just cooperate and this will all be over soon." He pulled her towards the backdoor. She stumbled along beside him in the dark. At least Mulder could always be counted on to have a flashlight, she thought irritably. This was ridiculous. She expected him to run her into a wall any minute. She awkwardly stumbled along beside him as expected pain made her tense Krycek put up with her awkward stumbling for only a few steps. Impatient, he jerked her to a stop. "Would you stop it and just walk!" "I can't help it! It's dark!" she snarled back. "I keep expecting you to shove me into a wall." "Trust me, Scully, if I wanted to shove you into a wall, I would. At the moment, I'd be happy if you'd just walk." She felt another involuntary tingle go through her at his words. 'Shove you into a wall' resonated through her head suggestively and warmed her body. God, I wish, she thought before she could stop the traitorous thought. This is ridiculous. She didn't even like the man. He was a criminal, a murderer. She certainly didn't trust him. But still the idea of him shoving her against a wall and holding her there with the length of his own body made warmth pour through her. Thank God it was dark. She suspected she was blushing. She never blushed. She never allowed it. Mulder certainly never got a blush out of her. How could Krycek accomplish it without even trying? Krycek noted Scully's odd silence and the stiffness of her body but dismissed it as resentment. He started walking again. This time she walked smoothly, almost recklessly. "You know Mulder's around here somewhere," Scully said, after the silence weighed too heavily. She was in a strange mood. She fought back the desperate urge to taunt him and it was only her training that stopped her tongue. Don't provoke the kidnapper in a kidnap situation. They had drilled that into the cadets at the Academy until they could say it in their sleep. But it was still hard. For a lot of reasons. She was irritated that she had wound up in another situation where someone other than herself decided her fate. She was relatively sure he wasn't going to kill her, but that didn't make her feel any less helpless. She was an agent, trained to help others. She hated it that she couldn't do anything to help herself. She longed for her gun or even a handcuff key. At least if her hands were free she would have a fighting chance. She also desperately wanted Krycek to tell her who that man had been. She knew him. She knew she knew him. The knowledge itched on the edge of her awareness. It was there, he was familiar, but she couldn't quite get a hold of it. But just as irritating was the knowledge Krycek wouldn't tell her even if she asked him. She was also irritated at her illogical awareness of him. Maybe it was the memory of his hard body moving against hers or his warm breath against her ear or his hot scent. It had been much too long since another human being had even touched her in passing let alone rubbed against her like that. But as much as she tried to dismiss it, her skin itched with an urge that a simple scratching would never appease. And that fact irritated her mightily. So she had to strike out. However she could. "Mulder is out there," she warned. But he ignored her and that infuriated her even more. "We're going to hunt you down this time, Krycek. You're not going to get away. We'll find you and drag you to the nearest jail. You're going to stand trial for your crimes." Krycek was silent until then, ignoring her, but at her taunt he spoke up. "And what crimes would those be, Agent Scully?" he asked sarcastically formal. "Murder, assessory to murder," she promptly answered then added with malicious satisfaction, "kidnapping and assault of a federal officer. Just to name a few." "Assault," he repeated with mock astonishment, "Scully, you wound me. I think I've been most kind." They had reached the door. Krycek released her to open it. He mockingly motioned her to precede him with a courtly gesture. She stalked into the dimly lit alley. While the alley may be dimly lit, it was still ten times brighter than inside the building, and Scully was glad. It was hard to stalk with her hands cuffed behind her back, but she managed it. Krycek let the door swing closed and quickly caught up with Scully and grabbed her arm. He walked her around to the driver's side of the car and shoved her against the door while he dug around in his pocket for the keys. "Assault," she continued as if she had never stopped. "You know as well as I do that you can't go shoving people around like this. That's assault." She raised an eyebrow and sneered. "I am assuming of course that you really were a fully-trained FBI agent and not just some fraud pretending to be an FBI agent to gain Mulder's trust." He didn't say anything to that but felt irritation go through him. She had quite a mouth on her and a sharp tongue to go with it. He unlocked the door and yanked it open with more force than strictly necessary. He grabbed her and roughly pushed her inside, making her slide over to the passenger side. Her hands cuffed behind her back forced her to squirm and struggle across the seat. He took malicious pleasure in pushing her a number of times in quite a few uncomfortably intimate places. He noted she had a firm, tight ass and, as his hand came down on the back of her thigh, her legs were just as well muscled. Maybe he took *more* than just malicious pleasure. He had never had a reason to put a hand on Scully before. He discovered he was enjoying it more than he thought he would. She was such a prim little bitch, he had expected the ice in her veins to freeze him. But it didn't. In fact she seemed quite warm to the touch. After the first outraged gasp, she remained silent as she struggled over to the other side of the seat. Finally she was sitting up in the passenger seat and glaring at him. He took his place behind the wheel with a smug grin. He fit the key into the ignition, and the car started with a roar. She blithely continued her lecture as if she'd never been interrupted. "And sexual assault." He jerked his head around to stare at her. Sexual assault? Where had that come from? He frowned at her. Was she ever going to shut up? She met his frown. "Sexual assault. Any unwanted sexual contact, such as a man rubbing himself against a woman," she sneered, "is sexual assault." He was caught by the contempt in her eyes for a minute before he could tear his eyes away and look at the road again. Her direct stare made him feel like a worm, a masher that had taken advantage of a woman who couldn't say no. Which is essentially what he *had* done, wasn't it? he asked himself irritably. But he hadn't meant anything by it. Not really. He had only been teasing her. He didn't understand the guilt he was feeling. Guilt was usually Mulder's domain, but his reaction to the contempt in her eyes gave him an inkling of the source of this unaccustomed guilt. He respected Scully. He wanted her to respect him. He wanted her to appreciate all the sacrifices he had made even though he would never be able to tell her the whole story. But when he looked into her eyes all he saw was hatred and contempt. She made him feel lower than a cockroach and he didn't like it. Not at all. He fought back the feeling of inadequacy. He was good at what he did, the best. What he did best was survive. He was better at it than anybody, much better than Mulder could ever dream of being. And now Scully was staring at him contemptuously because he couldn't survive and still play by her rules. That was just too bad. He maintained a grim silence all the way to her apartment. Scully had finally fallen silent. He was dimly aware of being grateful for that as he continued to grapple with his own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. He wasn't used to dealing with any emotions at all so he was having a hard time with it. Scully had fallen silent because she finally realized what had been driving her spiteful tongue all along: frustrated arousal. He turned her on but wasn't interested in her, not at all, and it was too frustrating for words. Frustrating because she didn't understand why *he* had this effect on her. She had been in hostage situations before and never had this reaction to her captors. Her only reaction then had been repulsion and a sick dread. She knew only too well what happened to kidnap victims. Her FBI training had given her all the gory details. More of the gory details than she really wanted to know. She had finally shut up when the rational part of her mind that was usually totally in control took back a small piece of control by mentioning that if she continued to ride him he might get really pissed off and decide to kill her. Maybe her reaction was because she didn't really believe he was going to hurt her. She felt strangely free to mock him, secure that he wouldn't really hurt her. That was a strange reaction considering she was in the clutches of an assassin. XX XX XX So it was that the two made their way to Scully's apartment in grim silence. Krycek had wrapped his jacket around her, draped over her shoulders to conceal the handcuffs, and had his arm across her shoulders, pretending they were a couple coming back from a date. His gun in the belt holder was hidden under his long sweater, but a hard edge occasionally brushed against Scully's side, reminding her to behave. Scully was fuming, the slow burn of rejection ready to ignite at any minute even though she hadn't ever made any advances that had ever been rejected. She just knew he wasn't interested, and it pissed her off. Meanwhile Krycek simmered with confused feeling of guilt and shame with a large amount of anger thrown on top. He didn't want to care what she thought of him but did, and it irritated him no end. He found her key and opened the door, pushing her inside and locking the door behind them. He looked around. Now how was he going to do this? He couldn't just unlock the cuffs and leave her. She would immediately call the police and Mulder, not necessarily in that order. That is if she didn't try to kick his ass herself, depending on how mad she was. Judging by the glare she was shooting at him, he would be taking his life in his hands if he uncuffed her. He looked around her apartment. There was not anything he could fasten the handcuffs to that would hold her. All the furniture could either be broken, overturned or dragged. He eyed her and then the apartment one more time. Unless he hog-tied her and threw her in a closet, he didn't have a lot of options. But he hadn't checked out the bedroom yet. He shoved her forward. He hit the light switch as they walked into the bedroom and the bedside lamp came on. He stared with dismay at her large double bed. The headboard was one large piece of wood. There was nothing to fasten her to. He shoved her down to sit on the edge of the bed and paced around the room. Nothing. A dresser, a bedside table and a closet. He stopped pacing. He eyed her and then eyed the closet. She glared at him, reading his mind. Her eyes threatened him: He shrugged and looked away. He hadn't *really* considered it. Not really. He was getting irritated again. This was supposed to be the simple part. Drop her off and leave. But it was turning into a big production. He knew what the problem was. He didn't want her to be uncomfortable while she waited for someone to come let her loose. But he also didn't want to get caught because she got free too quickly. He was torn between conflicting desires and wasn't used to the feeling. Wasn't used to a lot of the feelings he'd had tonight. It didn't help that she looked so cute glaring at him with his leather jacket engulfing her tiny form. In the soft light from the lamp she didn't look old enough to be a trained FBI agent. Hell, she didn't even look old enough to be in high school. And the hair that had withstood windstorms in Texas without allowing a hair out of place was much the worse for wear, especially after he had grabbed it and mussed it so badly. Strands of hair hung in her face and the back was rucked up and sticking out wildly. Very un-Scully-like. He liked it. He shook himself. This wasn't solving his problem. He moved over to the dresser and began searching through, hoping an idea would come to him. He opened her underwear drawer first and stopped dead. There were lacy bras and panties and scarves and fine stockings in piles of delicate material. He brushed a fingertip over the soft material, mesmerized. Abruptly, he jerked his hand away and slammed the drawer shut. Playing with her unmentionables was not solving his problem. He stopped with his back to her. He regretfully decided that it may have to be the closet after all. He turned to face her. She was still glaring but her lips had compressed into a thin, angry line at his foray into her lingerie drawer. He looked away, moved to the closet and opened it. He eyed the interior. There wasn't a lot of room in there. He eyed her. She wasn't that big. He pushed some hanging clothes aside and eyed it again. Maybe. Finally, she spoke up. "Don't even think about it, Krycek. If you stuff me in that closet, there's not a force on earth powerful enough to stop me from hunting you down and killing you." It was humiliating enough to get kidnapped once again. To be stuffed in her own closet was too much to even contemplate. By the way she glared at him he knew she meant every word. He decided against the closet. He closed the door. It wasn't that she scared him. It was that if it meant that much to her, he wouldn't do it to her. But that left him with the same problem: what to do with her. He came to a sudden decision. He dug in his pocket for the key. Key in hand, he moved beside her and tugged his jacket from around her. She stared up at him, a vulnerable look in her eyes. But the expression was wiped away so quickly, he had to wonder if he had seen it. He dropped the key behind her on the bed, close to her hands, and backed away. She was already reaching for the key when he drew his gun. She froze, glaring. He wasn't taking any chances. She looked mad enough to chew lead and spit bullets. He took another step back. "Go ahead, Scully. Unlock your hands. Very slowly." She picked up the key and struggled briefly before she was free. She slowly brought her arms forward, rolling her shoulders in relief. That was better. She eyed him. Now she could see about kicking his ass. "Put the key and the cuffs down on the nightstand." She did as he said then watched him. "Lay down on the bed, facedown," he ordered. She looked startled at that then stared at him suspiciously. He motioned impatiently with the gun. "Lay down or I can hog-tie you and throw you in the closet. Your choice." She reluctantly turned away and eased herself down on top of the bed. With a soundless breath of relief, he holstered his gun, grabbed up the handcuffs and quickly crawled onto the bed. He had seen that look in her eye. He didn't want to give her a chance to think about escaping. She gave a startled sound and started to push up, but he was instantly straddling her. His weight came down, and she couldn't move. She could barely breathe. She squirmed. "Get off me, you pig," she growled softly. "No, no, Scully," he corrected softly. "You're with the cops, I'm with the robbers. Get it straight." As he talked he shifted forward. She lay slightly diagonal across the bed and he propped himself above her on his prosthetic arm. It wasn't good for much of anything else, he thought irritably. But the irritation was soon gone as his good spirits recovered. He was almost out of here. He pulled up the pillow from under the neatly-made covers, tossed it aside and found his goal. On the far side of the bed there was a small space between the mattress and the headboard where the support strut for the headboard came up. Barely enough to put the handcuffs around, but it would do. "Grab that," he ordered, pointing. She twisted her head up to look where he was pointing. She glared at him and then at the small span of metal rail. Hair hung in her eyes. She tossed her head to clear her eyes and twisted her head to glare up at him again. "Just do it, Scully." She looked down and after a moment began to squirm across the bed to reach the rail. Krycek eased his weight up off of her to allow her to move. Krycek was tense again during this operation. If she was going to make a move, now was the time. But she reached out and grabbed the rail without incident, and he relaxed slightly. A shrill ringing cut across the silence, and Krycek jumped. Before it registered that it was only the phone, Scully had twisted onto her back and shoved him away. She couldn't get much leverage so he didn't go far, but his fake left arm shot out from under him and dumped him. He toppled to the side and back towards the nightstand and, unfortunately, closer to the phone. Meanwhile Scully twisted away onto her side and was almost free of his entangling legs. She was trying to slide head first off of the far side of the bed when his legs clamped around her again and he lunged up over her. His good right arm went around her and jerked her back. All the while the phone continued to ring. He had lost his grip on the handcuffs and they slid into the disaster that was becoming the bedcovers. He didn't worry about it as he tried to get a better grip on Scully's twisting body. They were lengthwise across the bed by this time and Scully's head and shoulders were hanging off the far side into space. He jerked her back onto the bed, but she still struggled in his grip. She was on her side trying to squirm free when she gave up on that and twisted over onto her back. She would have to deal with him. She pushed at his chest then her left hand grabbed for the gun at his side. He pulled back, grabbed her hand at the wrist and jerked it away. Then her right hand came up and grabbed for the gun. She had him outnumbered. She had too many hands. But he was stronger and heavier than she was. He blocked her first grab with his forearm, but that would not stop her for long. He sat up, putting the gun out of her reach for the moment and inadvertently eased his weight off her. She arched under him then kicked out with her legs. Her foot connected with the phone. It went flying off the nightstand in mid-ring. She began to yell, "Mulder, help-- !" Krycek immediately settled his weight onto her stomach hard. She lost her breath. He released her wrist and quickly tore his gun from the holster. Breathing heavily, he pointed it at her. She froze. In the dead silence that followed they could hear Mulder yelling, "Scully? Scully!?!" Furious, Krycek kept the gun aimed at Scully's throat as he leaned back, found the phone cord with his fake hand and yanked hard. Sudden total silence. Only their breathing disturbed the silence. Scully panted lightly, trying to breathe with his full weight bearing down on her stomach, Krycek harshly gulped for breath, trying to contain his rage. "You should get out, Krycek," Scully finally broke the silence, gasping. "Mulder will be here any minute." At her words, Krycek felt the rage that had begun to subside crash over him in another giant wave. He was going to kill her. He was going to... He got hold of himself abruptly. He couldn't kill her. He didn't want to kill her. He was just mad. But he felt like beating her. "Shut up, Scully," he ordered in a deadly, barely controlled whisper. "But--" The gun barrel was suddenly pressed hard to her throat. She went silent, staring at him apprehensively. Maybe she had pushed him too far. "Not a word," he whispered, fury plain in his voice, "not a sound. Don't move." For long moments she watched him breathe heavily and glare at her. Finally she began to see signs that his fury was subsiding. His breathing evened out, the flush in his face seeped away and his tightly compressed lips relaxed. The gun barrel still dug into her throat though and his weight was still pressing down on her stomach heavily. She could barely get enough oxygen to stay conscious and felt darkness pressing at the edges of her vision. Her hands crept up and lightly touched his thighs where they lay on either side of her. She squirmed under his weight. He sat down harder against her stomach and the gun barrel pressed deeper into her throat. "Don't move," he whispered. But it wasn't the threatening, spine-chilling whisper of before. "I can't breathe, Krycek," she choked out and squirmed again. After a second's thought, he slowly eased up and back until he was sitting on her thighs, effectively pinning her lower body immobile. The gun barrel hadn't moved from her throat. In spite of that, Scully gratefully took a big gulp of air. "The handcuffs are under my left knee. Pick them up. Slowly. Any more tricks," he warned in a rasp, "and Mulder will find your dead body when he arrives." She shuddered at that threat. She knew he meant it. Very carefully, her right hand eased under his knee, found the cuffs and pulled them out. She froze again, holding them up, her thumb looped through one cuff. "Fasten one cuff around your right wrist," he ordered. She couldn't do it one-handed, so she very carefully brought her other hand across her body and under the arm that held the gun to her throat and fastened the cuff around her wrist. She went still again. "Now reach up behind you, wrap the chain around the strut and cuff your other hand. Slowly." She eased her hand from under his arm and slowly reached above her with both hands to grab the strut. She arched her back and neck, the top of her head digging into the mattress as she tried to see what she was doing. There wasn't much to grab onto, but she wedged her hand under the headboard and finally got the chain around it and the other cuff on her other hand. Her straining neck muscles relaxed as she achieved her goal. The gun barrel at her throat eased off when he heard the second click. Krycek took a breath and relaxed, shifting on top of her. Krycek had relaxed, but Scully had a new problem to deal with. As she locked the second cuff around her wrist and relaxed back against the bed, she clenched her eyes shut at the feelings that washed over her. She was suddenly, totally aroused. She fought it back, confused. Why Krycek? she cried in her mind. He was going to kill her. No, he wasn't, her rational mind calmly answered. If he was going to kill her, he would have done it already. He wasn't going to hurt her. But he was firmly in control of her now. There was nothing she could do about it. She abruptly realized that was why she was so excited. Anything that happened, she couldn't be responsible. She dimly realized that it was related to her hang up with authority figures. He could tell her what to do, order her to do anything, and she would have to do as he said. It made a skewed, twisted sense and with her eyes still closed, she squirmed with shame. Mostly because all he was going to do was leave. Leave her alone to deal with her sick compulsions until Mulder showed up and let her loose. She squirmed again, suddenly impatient to be alone and deal with this. She opened her eyes and glared at him. He had holstered his gun by now. "Are you going to get out now, Krycek." The way she snarled it made it sound more like an order than a question. She was furious, more with herself than with Krycek. At the moment she was shattered and vulnerable from the shocking self-revelation she'd just had and couldn't begin to hide her anger and self-contempt. But Krycek only heard the furious contempt in her voice. Her words sounded more like an order to a peon than a question. Anger spurred through him. He leaned forward, his face close to hers as he propped his fake arm beside her for balance. His hand stroked into her wildly tangled hair as he softly breathed a question against her lips. "What if I don't want to leave, Scully?" The low suggestive purr held a thin threat that sent a chill down her spine but also sent another shock of arousal through her body. She tried to choke it off as her back arched involuntarily and her breasts ached, drawn into tight peaks that hurt. She closed her eyes and turned her face away from the interrogation in his eyes, desperate to hide her body's reaction from him. Thank God for her heavy suit jacket. It would be too humiliating if he discovered her reaction to the situation, to him. Furious, he jerked her head back around to face him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you." The commanding order shot from her breasts down her stomach and straight to her to core. She whimpered, her eyes still tightly shut. Why didn't he just *go*? Krycek hear her whimper and his face jerked away from hers as if he had been slapped. She was afraid. Really, truly afraid. Of him. Krycek felt her body trembling under his and felt sick. His stomach twisted and he closed his eyes. Jesus. He hadn't meant to do this to her, terrify her like this. She must really think he was some kind of animal to be this afraid of him. "Please," she begged in a whisper, "just go." God, she was begging him. *Scully* was begging him. He never thought he would ever hear it. That he had reduced such a strong, fearless woman to this rocked him down to his toes. His hold on her hair gentled. "Scully?" he questioned softly. He frowned with concern but she wouldn't open her eyes. "Scully? Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you." He tried to reassure her but didn't get the reaction he expected. She gave a defeated sigh and opened her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out. The sadness in her eyes confused him. "I'm not afraid, Krycek," she said softly. "You should go before Mulder gets here. Things could get messy." His hand stroked over her hair, uncertain where the sadness in her eyes had come from but wanting to make it go away. She *wasn't* afraid, he realized. Using the soft pad of his thumb, he brushed a strand of hair back from her face then let his thumb stroke over her temple and down over her cheek, considering. She trembled again at his touch and the answer finally hit him like a bolt of lightning. She was aroused. She was excited. By him. The idea made him lose his breath. He couldn't think and couldn't move for one long electric moment. He looked down her body, desperate to discover if he had really figured it out or if he was grossly misreading her. The suit jacket covered her completely. His hand went to the top button and eased it open. She took in a short, tight breath at his touch, but he didn't look up. He continued working at the buttons until the jacket was completely undone then pulled the jacket open. She was trembling again. He could see the points of her breasts pressing against her thin, satin shirt in tight nubs, but couldn't quite believe it. He let his fingertips trail over her tight nipples. She shuddered and turned her head away. "Scully?" He didn't know what he was asking of her. If she was repulsed by his touch. If she wanted him to stop. If she wanted him to continue. If what he was feeling was real or just an intense fantasy. Scully, aroused and trembling under him. There was no way it could be real. But it was. He closed his hand fully over her breast and she gasped. His thumb flicked over the nipple, and she jerked and whimpered. The sound shot straight to his groin. Scully wanted him. She was so hot to the touch she burned with the heat of a sun going nova. He wanted more of that heat, all the heat she could generate. He wanted her to burn him up. He suddenly realized he had forgotten to keep breathing. He took in a deep, gasping breath. He looked up to find her staring at him with eyes that were half-lidded with desire. His hand went beside her to brace himself and he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were instantly open and seeking under his. She made another choked whimper against his mouth, and he jerked at his body's wild reaction. His mouth pressed against her harder, hungrily tasting her. He tried to devour her. She kissed him back with an answering hunger. He shifted above her, easing his body down to hers as his knee found her thighs and tried to slide them apart. She jerked a little and her eyes opened in alarm at the touch, suddenly graphically aware of where this was going and unsure even through her thought-destroying arousal. But he continued to kiss her hungrily and her concerns slipped away as her eyes slipped closed. She allowed his knees to slide in between hers. They shuddered together as he pressed against her. She could feel his heat even through the layers of clothes between them. She let her knees open wide as she hitched her hips and adjusted herself against his growing erection. He groaned when she rubbed against him. His lips broke away from hers and he let his face drop to the curve of her throat. He shuddered and gasped for breath. She squirmed under his weight, impatient, and he came to a sudden decision. He pulled away from her and she moaned a low protest. She fell silent as he began pushing her jacket up her arms. Soon the material was bunched under her back. In the process her shirt had slid up to bare her stomach. He jerked the shirt up above her breasts to lay taut over her collarbones. She shuddered hard as she realized she felt even more bound at this and shuddered again as he pulled her bra away to allow his mouth to take in her nipple. He began to suck strongly, and she began to shudder. She became aware that his hips stroked against her as well, stroking over her, and the feeling drove her wild. She threw her head back and gasped for breath, trying to hold back, trying to stifle the wild sounds that wanted to pour from her throat. But she was too aroused and too breathless and her body had been shuddering on the edge of orgasm before he ever even touched her. He had barely begun before she shuddered and let out a gasping scream, waves of pleasure engulfing her. She became distantly aware that he hadn't stopped. That his mouth and body continued to stroke over her, against her. She trembled as another orgasm began to build, her hips working against his, the sensations penetrating through the clothes they were both still wearing. "Please," she begged. "I can't..." Her conscience was prodding at her viciously and twisted her with shame as well as arousal now that her first uncontrolled response was past. He ignored her, only sucked harder and his hips worked against her faster and harder. She choked on a whimper as the pleasure of his touch went through her again. He skillfully let her excitement build one more time, but her pleasure was colored with crippling guilt. She felt tears seep from her eyes but that was all swept away as she was hit with another powerful orgasm that left her shuddering and gasping for breath. When she became aware again, this time it was to look up into Krycek's face as he hovered over her, watching her. He had lifted his body from hers but she could still feel his raging erection brush against her belly with each deep breath she took. She stared at him expectantly for one long minute before she started to frown in confusion. She knew he wanted her. She could feel the evidence brushing against her. "Krycek- -?" He interrupted her with an exasperated sigh. "Call me Alex, Dana," he ordered then conceded softly, "At least when we're alone." "Alex," she corrected, still confused. "Why don't you..." She trailed off, uncertain and embarrassed. "Why don't I fuck you?" he finished crudely. She flinched but nodded. That *was* what she was wondering. She couldn't stop him even if she wanted to, and she hadn't exactly been shuddering with revulsion at his touch. "I don't do rape," he said harshly. "And this situation is just plain too weird to sort out. I can tell you want me but not why, so I'll have to pass." She stared at him wordlessly. She didn't know what to say. She never thought *Krycek* would be one to decline an opportunity, especially considering the crippling need he was in. She could still feel his hardness pressing against her. And that he would refuse on principle, no less! She had to agree. This was just plain weird. The harsh lines of his face relaxed, and he smiled affectionately. He leaned forward to plant a light kiss on her forehead. "But I guess I do do sexual assault. You can add it to the list after all." He eased back and tugged her bra back into place, then eased her shirt down to cover her breasts but left her stomach bare. He liked her stomach. He would have to explore it further at a latter date, he thought wistfully. Yeah, right, he thought. In his dreams maybe. He eased up off her. "No," she said. He stopped at the soft word, about to heave himself off the bed but unsure what she meant. "I won't add it to the list," she said shyly. He grinned at that. This was too weird. He leaned over and planted another kiss on her forehead. He pulled away and stood up beside the bed. He stared down at her, trying to memorize her. He would never see her like this again. The next time he saw her she would be trying to kill him. He couldn't count on her temporary insanity to continue. He could only hope that his own insanity would go away eventually. "Good-bye, Dana," he said softly. "I hope I don't see you again." She stared at him, startled at the hurtful words. But his tone wasn't hurtful, and as she looked into his eyes she realized what he meant. If they ever met again they would be on opposite sides. Their conflicting loyalties demanded it. She nodded sadly. "Good-bye, Alex. I hope I don't see you again, either." He nodded and eased back towards the window. He couldn't use the front door. He was cutting it close as it was. Mulder should be here any minute. If Mulder saw Krycek anywhere near Scully, he would shoot him on sight. Especially after her cut-off scream for help. Mulder was probably as crazy as they were by now, only with worry. As he opened the window and eased his way outside onto the fire escape, he wondered if that was better or worse than being crazy with lust or love or whatever he and Scully had been afflicted with. He would probably never know. XX XX XX After he was gone, Scully twisted over onto her side. The cuffs bit into her wrists harshly, and she had to struggle against binding cloth but finally made it onto her side, facing the headboard. She pulled her knees up tight to her chest, painfully aware of the ache between her legs and the dampness that had soaked her pants at the crotch. Even as ripples of spent pleasure shivered over her body, she buried her face into her shoulder and felt the first shuddering sob tear through her. Then she was crying, the tears soaking the blankets under her in a widening circle as she tried to stifle her sobs. She felt betrayed; betrayed by her own body, betrayed by her own feelings. Despair overwhelmed her and she wanted to wail, but she only continued to cry silently. She was so lost in her own misery that she didn't hear the front door open or Mulder call out for her. Mulder was frantic by the time he made it to her bedroom door. The only reason he could think of that she wasn't answering him was because she could not answer him. Because she was dead. Then he saw her on the bed. He moved forward swiftly, moving around to the far side of the bed. "Scully?" She didn't acknowledge his presence until he placed a concerned hand on her shoulder. She jumped and gasped with surprise. "Scully, it's me," he reassured. "Are you okay?" He tried to find any evidence of injury on her but didn't see any. "Scully?" She twisted over onto her back, and he got his first good look at her face. His stomach twisted sickly with fear. She had been crying. She was still crying. She never cried. "Scully?" She didn't answer, just stared at him tragically. He touched her face gently. "Scully?" "Mulder," she said quietly, her voice hoarse with tears. "Mulder. The key." Her eyes flickered to the nightstand. He looked over and saw it. He went around the bed to grab the key but was too impatient to go around the bed again. He climbed onto the bed and leaned over her to unlock her. He pulled the cuffs off and violently threw them away. "Scully?" "I'm fine, Mulder," she answered instinctively, desperately trying to regain control and ignore the tears on her face. Mulder's face stiffened into a grimace at the words. He watched helplessly as she struggled upright, not sure he should touch her. "What happened, Scully?" He watched grimly as she jerked her shirt and jacket down and straightened them. She didn't try to button the jacket back up. "I-- I was..." she started haltingly. She gathered her professionalism around her like armor. Pain went through Mulder as he watched her try to pull herself together. She was the most together person he knew. It must have been bad to make her fall apart like this. "I was checking out that building. I didn't think anyone was there, but there was. Someone grabbed me from behind. I couldn't see his face. Then- then..." She had to stop for a breath, but that was her undoing. Everything abruptly came crashing down. "He- they..." She brought her hands up to her face and shuddered. Mulder felt dread hit him. They? How many were there? What did they *do* to her? Her hands dropped from her face and she reached for him. "Oh, Mulder," she said softly. He hadn't been sure he should touch her, but at her gesture it was with relief that he gathered her into his arms and let her rest against his chest. She began to cry again, but this time with quiet, tearing sobs that stabbed at him. He eased back against the headboard, cradling her to his chest. After her sobs had subsided and she was calmly resting against him, he finally felt he could risk a question. "Scully? Do you want to talk about it?" He tensely waited for her response. He wasn't sure he could handle it. He hoped he could. For her sake. She took a breath and let it out, much calmer. "It was Krycek," she said softly. Mulder tensed and rage went through him. Krycek. She was silent for too long. He couldn't stand it. "What happened, Scully?" She took another breath. "Nothing," she said. Her calm professional voice was back, but she didn't move away from his chest. She rested against him bonelessly. It was as if she was unaware of how close they were, of how much she leaned on him. "They kept me from seeing the face of the man who had grabbed me which leads me to believe that they were afraid I would recognize him. They handcuffed me and blindfolded me then the man left. "He was tall, as tall as you Mulder, but slimmer than you. He spoke a few words before Krycek shut him up, but I didn't recognize the voice." She was silent a minute, thinking. "I can almost place it. Just when I think I've got it, it slips away." She paused thoughtfully, trying to force the memory forward but gave up on it. "Krycek waited until he was gone then took the blindfold off. We drove here. He was just cuffing me to the bed when you called. I almost got away, but he pulled his gun." She shrugged. "And then you found me." Mulder sensed a large gap in her story but decided not to push her. She would talk about it when she was ready. He knew there had to be more to it than that. Just being handcuffed to the bed and left alone wasn't enough to reduce his partner to hysterics. Krycek must have done something. But she didn't seem in pain and she was still fully dressed. He was baffled at what Krycek could have done to her to cause her to fall apart like this, but it could wait until she was ready to talk about it. After another long silence, she took a resolute breath and pushed away from him. "I'm all right, Mulder." She stared into his eyes. "Did you find anything?" He eased his arms from around her because that was what she seemed to want. She sat up, her legs curled under her, and waited for his answer. "Nothing," he said. "Just a bunch of empty offices. Did you see what Krycek was doing?" "No," she answered thoughtfully. "But I didn't get much of a look around before they blindfolded me." Mulder sat up. He knew she wanted to dismiss what had happened and go on, but he had to ask one more question. "Scully, are you going to be all right?" The caring concern in his eyes made her swallow. He really cared about her. It made her feel warm inside even if it was mixed with a lot of guilt. Impulsively, she let her hand come up and cup his cheek. She smiled at him, a smile that lit up her eyes with a warm, golden light if she'd only known. "I'm going to be all right now, Mulder. Thanks to you." And she knew she would be. Her happy smile intensified to joy. Mulder stared at her, dazed. Now he was glad she had never answered that question genuinely before. Now he would be happy with all the "I'm fine's" that she wanted to spout. Because when she stared at him so genuinely grateful and-- could it be?-- lovingly, it was enough to knock the breath right out of him and make him forget what he was going to say. "Good," he answered absently. He could only stare at her. He watched gratefully but also with disappointment as that loving expression was covered over once again with the calm professional look that he knew so well. She turned away, scooted to the edge of the bed and stood up. She turned to stare at him. He was still a little dazed from her smile but recovering quickly. "It's late, Mulder, and I'm tired. I need to get some sleep. I can go over it with you again in the morning. We can see if there is anything I missed then." He nodded jerkily and pulled himself off her bed. "Okay, Scully. I'll see you in the morning." She followed him to the front door and held it as he walked out. He turned one last time to look at her. "Good night, Mulder," she said firmly. "Good night, Scully," he answered. The door closed between them. End