Disclaimers in Part One.
- 17 -
December 3rd
Scully was cutting Krycek's hair. She tried to do a decent job, even though he had said he didn't care as long as she kept it out of his face. Her own had grown too, a bit longer than she liked to keep it these days, but she didn't trust him with the scissors. He might have many unforeseen talents, but somehow she strongly doubted his skills as a barber. She wasn't that good herself, but she had agreed when he asked her. If she were to be completely honest with herself, she liked being close to him as long as it was safe.
When she was done, she gave him an approving look, pretending to admire her handiwork.
"Much as I hate to admit it, you are an attractive man, Krycek."
"I am?" His surprise seemed genuine, and she wondered how that could be. How could he meet those green, long-lashed eyes in the mirror every morning and not realize their impact?
"Well, in that case…" He spun around without getting up from the chair, caught her around the waist and pulled her on to his lap quickly enough to send the scissors flying through the room only to land with a clang in the sink.
Scully was about to protest his reckless behaviour, but his mouth was already on hers, continuing the voracious exploration she had had a taste of twice before. She pushed against his chest, while fully realizing the futility of her gesture.
He was not holding back any more, and there was no way now she'd get out of this.
Just as she thought he hadn't even noticed her resistance, he drew back his head, a clear thread of saliva still connecting their mouths. "What?" he asked in a voice so husky it didn't quite carry. "Having second thoughts?"
She shook her head. "No, I just needed to breathe."
He chuckled slightly, an odd, sobbing sound, and hugged her close. For a moment, she was actually glad he only had one arm. She might have feared for her spine otherwise. "Krycek, there's no rush this time", she complained. "Are you always this desperate?"
"Sorry", he said, but he didn't look it. It was only the fourth time she had seen that sunny smile, and she was already becoming addicted to it. "Guess I just couldn't believe my luck."
"Luck has nothing to do with it", she said firmly, almost primly. "This is a well-considered decision. A few days early, but still."
He laughed, surprising her because she had never heard him do that before. In fact, she could have sworn he didn't know how. He stood up from the chair, and for a moment he was carrying her in one arm, holding her against him with her feet dangling off the floor. Then he set her down and began awkwardly to remove his clothes.
She realized that undressing each other might not be entirely practical under the circumstances, so she got out of her own clothes without ceremony, leaving them on the floor as some sort of protest against her official self, which had always been very neat.
Krycek was taking longer to get out of his jeans, and she noticed that he was staring at her. She thought it odd; after all, he had seen her before. Most of her, anyway. The stark, green hunger in his eyes frightened her a little. She was going into this willingly, but was it really possible to go through with it unscathed?
"If I changed my mind now, would you accept that?" she asked. She had no doubt it was the wrong thing to say, but she just had to know.
"Are you?" he asked gravelly, his eyes almost frightened.
"Am I what? Changing my mind? No, but I think I need to know if I still can."
"I don't know", he said with chilling honesty. "It might be too late." Suddenly it dawned on him what she was asking. She needed to feel safe. "I won't hurt you though", he said. "Well, not willingly anyway."
She could have done without the amendment, but for some reason his honesty always got to her. There was something so touching about it, in someone like him.
He was out of his jeans now, standing in his shirt and underwear only. She found she could not take her eyes off his long, powerful legs; his inner thigh muscles were particularly intriguing, she thought. And those graceful feet - if anyone had told her what beautiful feet Krycek had, would she have believed them? Pity men didn't go barefoot more often. Of course, the climate…
Cautiously, she approached him. She held up a hand to ward off any sudden attacks and managed to get close enough to start unbuttoning his shirt. She had no doubt he had learned to do it single-handedly, but she supposed it might take him a while. The shirt was dark green - she could not recall having seen him in any light colours lately. She undid the last buttons, taking a good look at him. On an impulse, she leant her head against his smooth chest, then gave it a long lick from his waistband to the hollow of his throat. She had to strain a little to reach all the way, but she managed, just barely. He groaned most satisfactorily. She sidestepped quickly as he reached for her, then she started to take off his shirt. His hand caught hers, and he shook his head. "Please don't."
It amazed her that he would ask, not just order her off. At the same time, she was a little disappointed. "Krycek, I don't mind."
"I do."
"Look, I've seen it before."
"I know you have. Just humour me, okay?"
She nodded. "All right, you can keep it on. But I must say I never expected you to have a vanity problem."
"Maybe I have a problem with pity."
"You shouldn't. Pity can often be the start of something - quite fascinating."
He flashed her a quick grin, but this time it didn't reach his eyes. As if to dismiss his worries, he caught her to him again and kissed her, slow and lingering for a change. She noticed that he was taking care to hold her so that her naked breasts lay flush against his skin, and she was doing everything to help, relishing the sensation as much as he did. She basked in his body heat, absorbing it into her own skin. His scent aroused her; to some extent it always had, ever since she noticed it that first day in the elevator. She had not been conscious of it before, but quite possibly it was the main reason she could be around him for so long, yet never fear him. She could not fear someone she - wanted.
Finally, he got out of his underwear, and she was wondering if maybe she should have second thoughts after all. He was only at half mast at the moment, probably due to the sudden chill, but even so… She was seriously wondering if she'd really be able to accommodate him at his - peak. Still, he had said he wouldn't hurt her. Willingly.
He half shoved her towards the bed, and she lay down, grabbing hold of the blankets and pulling them up, since breaking contact with his skin made her feel cold again. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "Be right back."
She heard him turn on the water in the shower, and lay wondering briefly what he was up to. Then she realized. He was not circumcised, so he was washing first. Somehow, she had never expected that kind of consideration from him, especially after his desperation earlier. It gave her something else to think about though.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Obviously, he was not planning on any kind of protection. Maybe he didn't even have any. She knew she had not; the last ones she had been carrying around had dried up and she had thrown them out just before leaving for Harting airfield in October.
He came back and got into bed with her, pulling the blankets around them both. The bed creaked considerably, and for a moment she wondered if it would hold. She could feel his long member against her thigh, and she thought she had better bring up the matter now, before it was too late - in case it wasn't already.
"You didn't give any thought to - protection? I'm all out."
He was lying half on top of her, supporting himself on his good arm. His green stare seemed amused rather than disenchanted, which was a relief. "Dana, I hate to remind you, but you don't need any protection. You can't get pregnant."
The cold statement angered and saddened her. He was at fault for all the calamities that had befallen her these past six years, and he dismissed them so lightly. What had she been thinking, getting this close to him? "Don't call me Dana", she said curtly. "This isn't that kind of relationship."
He nodded, accepting her condition without rancour. Maybe she was being too harsh after all. His life had been ruined too, and he dismissed his own misfortunes just as readily as hers. Didn't that account for something? "I only meant", she clarified, "I don't know where you've been."
He just looked at her. "Scully, I'm not suicidal."
She glared back. "Okay, but you don't know where I've been."
He actually smiled at that, and she felt ready to hit him. "But I do, Scully. You haven't been anywhere lately, you told me so yourself."
"I did not! All I said was, I hadn't been with…" For some reason, it was impossible to bring up Mulder's name right now.
Krycek shifted a little, to support his chin on his hand, while still propping most of his weight on his elbow. The movement brought the tip of his member in direct contact with her clitoris, and she wondered if he had planned it. Probably.
"And that was the only thing I didn't know. I told you it came as a surprise. The rest - well, your life is on file, Scully. All I had to do was look it up."
She supposed that indicated some interest on his part, but she resented it all the same. He picked that moment to shift again, and this time there was no doubt about what he was trying to do. "Stop it", she said.
He leant a little heavier on her, impeding her breathing slightly. "Scully, I'm not going to stop now."
She stared into his eyes, belligerently she hoped, but she knew he could read her arousal there too, plain as day. He certainly didn't seem in any way discouraged. This close, she noticed two fine scars on his face, two almost invisible white lines. One ran along the right side of his nose, marring it just enough to make it more interesting. The other ran slantwise across his lips, as if to draw her attention to their admittedly intriguing shape.
She took the opportunity to cease fire. Gently, she traced the scars with her finger, and he kissed her fingertip as it passed across his lower lip. "How did you get those?"
"Someone you know", he said. "Don't ask."
"Mulder?" Suddenly she could speak the name with no ill effects. "What did he do to you?"
Krycek looked away briefly, she couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or not. "He hit me with a telephone handset. I told you not to ask."
She couldn't help it, she started to giggle. "I'm sorry", she gasped in-between her small outbursts of mirth, not sounding for one minute as if she meant it.
"You'll be damned sorry if you don't stop that", he threatened, but he was smiling, and she did not feel in the least intimidated.
Until she felt his fingers on the very tip of her right nipple - lightly, electrifying. She tensed, momentarily cold with fear.
"Don't worry", he whispered, "I do have control of it. I told you I wouldn't hurt you." His mechanical hand continued its light caress, and she shivered. "I didn't think you'd notice. Sorry." But he still did not remove his hand.
Of course she had noticed. Since he only had his artificial hand free, and he was touching her on the right side, she'd be hard put not to notice. Other than that, she had to admit it was highly pleasurable. He was quite skilled with that thing - perhaps he really did have control of it. Then again…
"Why?" she asked. "I mean - you can't feel what you're doing, can you?"
He smiled, a little sadly, she thought. "No, but you can."
From the pressure on her nether regions, it seemed that the idea was getting to him, whether he could feel what his fingers were up to or not. He lowered his head then, putting his lips to her other nipple, just lightly at first, then taking more of her breast into his mouth, sucking hard. She groaned and dug her fingers into his hair, not knowing whether to try and pull him away or to hold him closer. His left hand was cupping her right breast now, but gentler than his mouth; his control still held.
Gradually, he began to move down on her, kissing her belly lightly on the way. She realized what he was about to do, and she got a firm grip on his hair - wishing she had not cut it so recently. He stopped, looking up at her.
"Don't serve me, Krycek", she said succinctly. "I want no debts between us." She saw the quick spark of green anger, and amended, "Besides, you're leaving me out in the cold. It's lonely up here."
As he moved back up to lie alongside her, she quickly shifted to be on top. She wasn't being entirely unselfish; this way he'd have two hands for her. From the way he was using his right one now, she gathered that he had indeed missed the touch before. His left one stayed on her, but it wasn't doing much at the moment. His right touched both her breasts alternately, now and then pinching her nipples lightly, just enough to tease her, not to numb. Once, he flicked his fingers against her erect nipple, and she nearly yelped, not because it hurt, but because the sensation was so unexpected - and hard to define. She liked it, but she was not quite ready to ask him to do it again.
She straddled him, a little higher than he might have wanted, where she could just feel his tip poking at her tail bone. Then she bent down to brush his lips lightly with hers. He tried to hold on to her, to deepen the kiss, but she dodged his hand and repeated the touch, just softly, teasing the sensitive skin. She had the impression his kisses were always voracious, demanding, taking as much as he could before it was gone, and she was determined to teach him something else. She flicked her tongue briefly across his lips, then moved down to his left nipple, bothering it with her teeth.
Apparently, he was not in the mood for lessons. Suddenly she was underneath again, this time pinned under his body, as he needed his right hand for other things. He was pressing down hard above her groin, just short of the bone. She moaned. Maybe he was right, maybe this was not the time for playing around. It had been a long time - for her certainly, and she suspected it was the same for him. He slipped a finger inside her, checking, finding her G-spot and rubbing it. She roared at him and tried to squirm off, she tried to tell him she wouldn't be able to go on if he kept that up, but she wasn't any too coherent and she doubted he got the message. He entered her properly then, filling her all the way, even pushing against her cervix, causing her exquisite pain, indistinguishable from the pleasure she was also feeling.
He wedged his hand in between them, trying to get at her clitoris, but she shook her head. "No!" she gasped, "Don't rush it, and don't distract me!"
He pulled his hand back out, taking some of his weight on it, and she breathed more easily. She was now quite certain that his prosthetic arm could not support his weight. He would have to either lean on his live one, or crush her under him. Not very practical.
"Let me up", she said. "You don't have to hold me down, I won't run."
He stilled his movements and looked down at her, as if only half believing. Then he nodded and rolled them both around, getting back under her, while still keeping her thoroughly impaled. No playing around. He wasn't about to let go now, not even for a minute.
He was so deep inside her it almost hurt her to move, but it was a kind of pain she didn't know how she could have lived without for so long. A life-giving pain. Unknowingly, he aggravated it by holding her down, his right hand pressing down hard on her buttocks. She stifled a scream as she came, biting his shoulder to keep quiet. Not the injured one fortunately. He gasped all the same, but made no further sound. Used to quiet lovemaking while on the run, no doubt. A cold streak of jealousy passed through her at the thought, totally unexpected. He widened inside her, an involuntary warning of his climax, and for a moment she feared he would rupture her. Then he came, and she forgot everything as he filled her, in complete and trusting abandon.
She slumped on top of him, feeling his heart racing. "See?" she mumbled. "I don't like to scream…"
He chuckled a little and held her close. This wouldn't do. She'd just rest a while, then she'd go up and wash…
Hours later, she woke. He had shifted on to his side and they were no longer connected, but he was holding her tightly, and he was fast asleep. There was no way she could get up now without waking him. She could still feel his heart, a strong, steady rhythm. The room was dark now, with only the moonlight spilling in. Not yet a full moon, only just enough light to see his face, completely peaceful for once, his long, thick lashes shadowing his cheek bones. She marvelled at his complete trust in her. She wouldn't have expected him ever to sleep with more than one eye at a time, yet he seemed perfectly at ease now, after giving all of himself, recklessly. Making the most of the opportunity. As if, existing so constantly on the brink of death, he knew how to live whenever he had the chance. She could understand that. This, she did not quite know how to handle. Dammit, why did he have to be suddenly so trusting, so vulnerable? The wary assassin suddenly leaving himself wide open, just because she… Belatedly, she realized that all her calculations had been wrong. It wasn't possible to come out of this unscathed. Or with her loyalties untouched. One thing she knew for sure. None of this would ever be entered into her journals.
*************************
In the morning, she surreptitiously checked herself for blood. She was relieved to find none. Okay, so she was unharmed. Physically anyway. She hadn't meant for him to notice, didn't even think he was awake, but he was, and he did.
"Come on, I wasn't that rough on you, was I?"
"No, I - well, yes, actually."
He reached for her, and against her better judgment, she curled right back up inside the warmth of his embrace. She even pushed his shirt aside so she could rest her head on his bare chest. His scent was always distracting, and right now it was downright irresistible.
"I'm sorry", he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I hope you can believe that."
"Don't worry", she said. "I loved every minute of it." She sensed rather than heard his light chuckle, and she hated herself for what she had to say next. "We can't ever do this again though."
He drew back a little, looking sharply at her. "What's wrong?"
She could not meet those eyes right now. There was no way she could tell him the truth. Then in the end, she found she could not lie to him either. Not after all that trust.
"I was mistaken. I thought this wouldn't affect my loyalties."
She had hoped he would hear ….to the FBI, but he heard her right.
"To Mulder." He said it bitterly, and it was not a question.
She nodded, still without looking at him. "But it will", she said. "Or rather, it could."
"Then why not let it?" he exploded, and she had a feeling he would have hit something if she hadn't been in the way. "What hold does that guy have over you? Nothing quite sound anyway. What does he do to you that I don't? Don't I treat you badly enough? I'm sorry I haven't managed to ditch you yet, but if that's what it takes…"
"Alex", she said.
That stopped him short. "Okay, okay, never argue in bed. I guess I hear what you're saying. It's just a bit hard to live with, you know? You're saying you could have feelings for me, and just because of your damn principles I have to stand back for him - and the guy doesn't even bother to touch you!"
Finally, she looked into his eyes. "I see I made another serious mistake", she said. "I never stopped to think that you might care. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. In fact, I didn't believe I could."
He stroked her hair gently. With his fake hand, because it was the one free at the moment. "I'll live", he said with a sigh. "I always do. If you say it was a mistake, then it was a mistake. But - if we're not to have this kind of relationship, can't you at least keep calling me Alex?"
"I haven't called you Alex."
"Yes you have. You do it when you don't think I can hear you. Or when you don't think, period."
She tried to remember. Truth to tell, he could be right. "I think I may have yelled it when the shape shifter attacked you. Because I remember you saying something - it was partly in Russian, but I gathered you didn't want me to call you by your first name."
He hugged her briefly. "I was just kidding. Stupid joke. In the old days, there were three levels of intimacy. Guess there still are, but people don't pay much attention to those things anymore. If you didn't know a person at all, you'd call them by their last name - familia. Your neighbours and other acquaintances, you'd address using imya and otchestvo - first name and patronymic. Imya alone was reserved for those closest to you - well, and kids of course. Never mind all that - feel free to call me Alyosha, if you like."
"I did read The Karamazov Brothers in my misguided youth", she said. "'Alyosha' sounds a little too saintly for you. I'll settle for 'Alex'."
"The Brothers Karamazov, I think", he said. "Brat'ya Karamazovy at any rate.
Okay, 'Alex' will do fine." His eyes glittered briefly. "Of course, you realize that entitles me to call you Dana? Danushka? Even 'Danochka'?"
"Even? What's the difference?"
"Stronger diminutive."
"Thanks, I'm not that little."
Glittering green mischief. "Oh yes, you are. What, nobody ever told you that?"
She swatted him - and was instantly afraid he would take it amiss. Or rather, that he would not take it amiss. Damn, but it was easy to relax around him. Literally…. Best not think of that right now. "'Dana' will be fine, thank you."
She hoped that was true.
He swallowed slightly, suddenly serious. "I think you'd better get out of this bed now, Dana. In fact… don't touch me for a few days, okay?"
It could have been an insult, but he was practically pleading. She nodded and got hastily out of his arms, making a beeline for the shower. How the hell had she ever imagined she'd be able to see this through…
- 18 -
December 25th
The only seasonal music on the jukebox was a much worn rendition of Jingle Bells. After listening to it twice, Scully declared the ancient machine off limits for the holiday.
She wasn't any too clear about why she wanted to celebrate Christmas. Mulder might have blamed her Catholic upbringing, but she felt as if that had little or nothing to do with it. Krycek hadn't reacted to the date at all, it was just another day to him, until she pointed it out and suggested they commemorate it in some way.
Commemorate…. that was it. She must have had some inkling that sooner or later, this strange captivity would have to end. If Mulder wasn't looking for her, wouldn't Skinner be hard at it by now? She had called in sick for a week - by now she had been gone for close to three months. Mulder must think her abducted again, if he knew. If he hadn't been abducted himself. And Skinner…. but maybe he was content to believe anything the Smoker might tell him, these days. Somehow she found that hard to believe. The ex-marine was protective of those assigned to him. He would insist on making pickup.
Whatever happened, she could not really see herself sitting across a table from Krycek at this time next year. Or any other time, once they were out of here. Against her better judgment, she found that she wanted to remember this Christmas. There never would be another like it.
She gave the table a critical look. Not much as Christmas dinners went, just more dried rations, but they had both done their creative best, and even though Japanese noodle soup might not be a traditional starter, it smelled good. They even had whole candles. Most of the time, they would use a few of the many stumps lying about in decayed cardboard boxes in the store, but for today, the candles were fresh.
They sat down, and Krycek lit the candles. "Guess we'll have to do without the wine", he said. "It probably wouldn't have stored well in the cold anyway."
Scully gave him a long look. "With you, I'll settle for vodka."
His head dipped quickly, with a brief, snorting laugh. "That's not what you said last time."
"I must have lowered my standards since then." But she was smiling as she said it.
He looked up, and green met turquoise. Their smiles gradually died, as they looked at each other for a long time. Too long. Abruptly, Scully rose and went over to the cupboard under the sink, where the vodka had stood untouched for all these weeks. She held up the bottle. "Think this will be safe?"
As always, he caught her meaning at once. "There isn't enough of it to make it unsafe."
"Good. Then let's celebrate."
*************************
Later, they helped each other clear the table. They left the dishes to soak in the sink; washing up could wait. After all, this was supposed to be a holiday. Once, Scully touched Krycek in passing, letting her hand slide gently over his chest, then down and along his waist. She did it without thought, because it was so good to be near him, to feel his scent, the heat of his body…
She caught herself and gave him a half terrified look. "Sorry, I - I wasn't thinking." Damn. She had held back for twelve days now, why would she suddenly… it had to be the vodka. Not that she had had any amount to speak of but then, she didn't weigh much.
He shook his head. "This isn't going to work, is it?"
She took a step backward, holding up her hands. "I said I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Promise."
"You really think you can stick to that? Maybe you should ask yourself what you want. What you need, anyway."
She backed off a little further, keeping a wary eye on him the while.
He sighed. "Don't worry, I won't. Just please stop being afraid of me!" He walked off into the café and started fiddling with the jukebox, defying her veto. For a moment she almost expected Jingle Bells to start up again. But no, it was something else, something quieter. As Krycek came back in, she could finally make out the calm, resigned voice - and the words:
We weren't lovers like that, and besides, it would still be all right.
"I didn't know you liked Leonard Cohen", she said.
"McCabe and Mrs Miller. Thought it kind of appropriate." He went over to the window and looked out. "Same climate anyway…" He turned to her, his face unreadable. The assassin's face. The thief's, the spy's. The one he wore with others, not her. "Care for a game of chess?"
*************************
"What do you really want, Dana?"
She knew he wasn't talking about her current strategy. "I told you."
"Tell me again."
She sighed. "It's not a question of want."
"What then? Duty? Don't give me that, he never did anything to deserve your sacrifices."
She didn't answer.
He moved his queen into enemy territory. "It's up to you, you know. Just say the word."
"And do what? Run away with you?" She countered his move, putting a pawn in the queen's way.
He glanced around their currently idyllic prison. "It's a beginning."
She shook her head, smiling a little. "You know what I meant. And you know I can't. I wouldn't be me if I did."
"We might be here a long time yet." He frowned at the board for a moment, then disentangled a black bishop from behind its lines and sent it out in the field.
"You're still in love with him."
She puzzled briefly over that. Then, "Strange to say, I don't even think I am. I just can't betray him. And it feels too much like betrayal to fall - to have an affair with his greatest enemy."
Krycek took the compliment in his stride. If indeed it was one. "Okay, you don't love him, but he has you mesmerized."
"Mesmerized?" She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Her practised test of Mulder's wilder theories.
"Yeah, you're under his spell." The self-assured spy was gone now, replaced with a young, Russian boy with forest-green eyes. There were hints of fairy tales in those eyes - and some vodka. He reached out for her hand but held back at the last instant. "But don't worry, kn'zhná. One day, I'll come and free you."
"Knyazhná?"
"'Princess'." He looked slightly embarrassed.
"You'd be my knight on a black horse?" Drawing him out, the way she always did Mulder.
"Why not?" His knight appeared from nowhere in front of her queen, threatening her king. "Check…."
*************************
The room seemed smaller and - undulating. It was the best way to describe it. Occasionally, colours would ripple through the walls. White, green, pastel purple…. The floor kept murmuring under his feet. He tried to think of it as engine sounds below the deck of a vessel, possibly a space-going one. But truth to tell, it felt more like deep breathing, or snoring…
The two beings in front of him didn't look like any aliens he'd ever met. One of them stood taller than Mulder, but it seemed to be wearing some kind of suit, and there was no telling if it would be as impressive without it. The suit consisted mainly of floor length robes with a high construct across the being's shoulders - if indeed it had any shoulders. The construct was highly ornamental, but Mulder assumed it contained the equivalent of a personal air supply. The 'helmet' had features but none that made any sense to Mulder. By contrast, the other alien did not appear to be wearing anything at all. Indeed, half the time Mulder wondered if it was even there. Perhaps it was a projection. It was as if it could not be seen when looked at directly. From the corner of his eye, Mulder would sometimes glimpse a giant spider, sometimes an oversized insect, vaguely mantis-like. Other times it didn't look like anything he could readily define.
"This one does not have full telepathy", the suited one said. "Latent at best."
Both sentences were introduced by a lengthy sound reminiscent of whirring clockwork, as if the being had to work its way up towards emitting the words.
The other had no such trouble. "Then he can develop it." The voice was surprisingly sweet, almost endearing. Or perhaps just insinuating.
The whirring started up again. When it was finished, the first one said, "No."
Lots of trouble for so little, Mulder thought.
"You have been conducting experiments", said the one who wasn't quite there.
"Performing research."
The covered one wound itself up to a, "What if we have?"
"It will not be allowed."
"You are onboard my ship." The last sounded like a threat. The wind-up period was shorter this time.
"Then let us ask him", said the other. "Or are you afraid?"
The challenge made no sense at all to Mulder. He supposed it did to the aliens. The suited one turned its helmet in his direction. In the most prominent part of the 'face' was a sphinctering aperture, surrounding a bright yellow 'eye' like that of some fifties radio set, except for the colour. The whirring went on for a while, then, "Who are you?" the being asked.
Mulder groaned. "Don't start with me. I've already answered that - to the best of my knowledge", he amended rapidly.
The helmet was lowered slightly. Then it turned to the other being, and the clockwork started its noisy buildup. "He doesn't know."
The other took a step toward Mulder. At least he thought it was one step, but it might have been several. Come to think of it, he couldn't even tell how many legs the thing had. But he had a vague impression of two of them being used almost as hands, to emphasize its speech with delicate gestures.
"What do you want?" it asked.
"The truth", Mulder said before he thought.
The being nodded. At least it dipped what had to be its head. It was in roughly the right place for a head. "That can be arranged. My truth or this one's?" It indicated the other alien with a slight tilt of the same head-like appendage.
"The objective truth", Mulder said. "The whole truth."
The being slumped a little, as if dejected. "There is no such thing in the Universe."
The other started whirring again as if in protest, but no words came of it.
"Then at least let me see my sister!" Mulder implored the ethereal alien.
It nodded, with more confidence this time, he thought.
"That can be arranged."
- 19 -
Forest way station, January 15th
The two helicopters circled purposely like buzzards, but they made no move to land. Their engines rent the white silence, usually only disturbed by woodland birds.
"Army?" Scully asked, shading her eyes with her hand. She could not make out any colours, but she thought the shape looked familiar.
"Probably", Krycek said, copying her gesture. "These are unmarked, though."
"The Smoker?"
"Or his enemies."
The helicopters veered off into the distance. If they had found what they were looking for, obviously nobody was going to do anything about it.
Scully and Krycek went back into the house. Krycek went directly to get the old rifle from its corner. He checked it. Four rounds left, as expected. Well, he didn't think Scully would have taken it on a hunting trip without telling him.
"Always expecting the worst?"
There was no reproach in her tone, she knew he was. And that he might well be right.
"They could have dropped someone, further off."
"To kill us?"
He nodded, and it occurred to her that he had probably been on missions like that himself. Somehow she hadn't thought of him as a parachutist, but of course he would do whatever it took.
"Why?"
"There's dissent within the Syndicate, worldwide. I've played the different factions against each other sometimes. Someone might want to remove all traces of the Smoker's schemes."
"Are you saying those helicopters might be foreign? Violating whose ever airspace this is?"
He smiled slightly. "No problem. The helicopters are already in place; they come in on an undetectable craft. Then they're just painted black and kept on standby."
"An undetectable craft? You mean - a UFO?"
"Once you have the technology, why not use it?" He made for the door, taking the rifle with him.
"I won't argue", she said, accepting the possiblity for now. "Just - be careful, okay?"
The look he gave her was a warmer green than she had seen in a while.
Apparently, she could still say the right thing sometimes.
*************************
January 18th
Three days later, they were prepared to accept that nobody had been sent to kill them - or to rescue them, for that matter. The choppers hadn't landed, and no new ones had come.
"Just reconnoëtering then", Scully said.
"It would seem so."
"Maybe the fire brigade flies unmarked helicopters."
That earned her a derisive glare - but he looked at least partly amused.
"We should consider another possibility", she said, reluctantly. This was heavier to bring up than she had thought.
He glanced quickly at her, wordlessly indicating that he was listening.
"These are the first helicopters we've seen since we got here. If they were simply reconnoëtering, then for whom? The Smoking Man? A quick check on us before they come back to get us out of here? They can't very well keep us here for years. Well, maybe you but not me. No place on Earth is that remote."
"You'd be surprised", he muttered, but he didn't really argue her point. "So what you're saying, we'd better pack our things?"
She shook her head. "Maybe not quite yet, but we need to decide what to do about our truce. In case we get separated before we can come to an agreement."
A swift, green gleam. "Well, that would be too bad, wouldn't it? Because it's over when you say so, remember? And if you don't say so, then it's still on."
She seethed. For some reason, he always managed to rub her the wrong way these days. "Exactly. That's why I think we'd better have a contingency plan."
"Look, why not leave the truce on? I sure as hell don't want to kill you, I hope you don't want to kill me. You've saved my ass from a raving mad Mulder twice already, all you'd have to do would be to keep that up."
"I wasn't saving you, I was saving him. From himself."
Krycek made a dismissive gesture - with his left hand, she noticed in some surprise. "Whatever. You still saved my life. You could even explain to Skinner or any of your other employers with the same keen sense of self-aggrandizement, you could tell them we have this agreement and it's personal. They'd accept that, and if the worst came to the worst, they'd send someone else."
"Would your employers do the same?"
"Uh - no. But I could always cheat them, I've done it before."
"You once said you would kill me if so ordered."
He nodded briefly, as if to dismiss that on the grounds of logical arguments.
But somehow they died on his lips, and the look he gave her was almost frightened.
"Dana - I don't think I could do it." He smiled a little, shakily. "Guess I'd have to cheat them."
*************************
January 24th
Scully had almost a week to think about it. Then there was a renewed flyby, camouflage-painted helicopters this time, but still unmarked. Two of them, as before. Neither of them landed. Towards evening, a lone, black one came in low over the area, made a wide turn and was gone. The visits seemed to lend the matter some urgency. She would have to reach a decision soon.
Keeping the truce would mean that she tied herself down unnecessarily, even to the point where she might not always be able to help Mulder. And Mulder needed to rely on her. On the other hand, she was her own person. Krycek was right; her superiors would in all likelihood respect a personal ceasefire. They didn't usually demand that you broke your promises, even to criminals. It would undermine their credibility in the long run; they'd never be able to strike another deal with a snitch. He was right about one other thing: she had saved him from Mulder twice. The first time, she had to shoot Mulder to do it, and it had still worked out in the end, he still trusted her. If she told him about her personal armistice right away, as soon as she found him, he would accept it. He'd rant and rave, but in the end, he would accept it.
That night, as they were setting up the board, she said, "Okay, Alex. The truce stays on unless I say otherwise. Which means that if I never get a chance to call it off, then it's still on."
"Even if I have good reason to think you'd have wanted to call it off?"
She nodded. "I can't have you second-guessing me, then I'd never know myself whether it was on or off."
Krycek was playing white. He chose to open conservatively, with the king's pawn. "Good, that leaves us only one other matter to settle."
She eyed him warily. "And that would be?" She countered his move with her own king's pawn.
"Dana, they're likely to pick us up any day now. They wouldn't have flown over several times if they weren't planning something. We could be out of here tomorrow. Or we could be dead, but either way - what do you say, just one more time for old times' sake? It isn't as if it could change anything now." A bishop's pawn came to the assistance of the first one.
She couldn't help smiling. "You never give up, do you?"
"No."
She mirrored his move. "You may be right, it wouldn't change anything. But, it would hardly make things easier." She looked into his eyes and forgot the rest of her rationalizations. "Anyway, I can't, I'm sorry. I'm at the peak of my period."
Unexpectedly, a white knight leapt from behind its lines, upsetting the ordered strategy already on the board. "I know", he said huskily.
Her eyes grew wide. "How…." Better not ask. Perhaps his sense of smell was inhumanly keen, perhaps he had just become sensitive to her pheromones. If indeed humans emitted pheromones; science was still out on that one, and she wasn't sure she was ready to believe it. Damn him anyway, there always was something not quite civilized about him.
"You're not in pain or anything?"
"No, that's over for this time. But…"
"Then it should be okay."
"Alex, I'd bleed all over the bed." Dammit, why was she even having this conversation? Moreover, why did she have to bleed when she could never again have an ovulation? Why hadn't they taken that away as well? Probably wouldn't mess with her hormones. It would have been better if they had.
"The sight of blood doesn't bother me."
Stating the obvious. As if she needed a reminder. Desperately, she hung on to the practical aspect.
"It would make a terrible mess. We'd never get it out of the mattress, I think the one on top is horsehair."
He was unimpressed. "So what? Leave something for them to wonder about. They'd never be sure what happened here. Of course there's always the floor, but I'd rather not subject you to that. The draft is terrible."
She got up, the game forgotten. "Alex, I…"
He leant forward, snatched her hand in his own right one, and pulled her to him. He hadn't really been planning it, but she lost her balance and landed on his lap. "Dana, please. Just this once - it'll never happen again." He moved his hand quickly, covering her breast, feeling it carefully. The nipple was hard and swollen under her T-shirt. If she was wearing a bra, it had to be a very thin one. He pinched her lightly, tentatively. "Still tender?"
She groaned. "Yes, but don't stop. It's okay as long as you avoid light friction."
He pulled a little, and she squirmed, trying to bite his neck. He met her halfway, capturing her mouth with his, forcing her lips apart to accommodate his tongue. For all he knew, Mulder, aliens or the government would claim her tomorrow, but for tonight - she was his.
*************************
He took care not to be too gentle with her breasts this time, as a light touch seemed to hurt her aching nipples worse than a firm pull. On the other hand, the semi-rough treatment seemed likely to send her over the edge in no time, and he didn't want that.
She had been right though, the mattress was already soaked. As before, he had kept his shirt on, though more for lack of time than to keep the prosthetic juncture out of sight. The shirt was hanging loose, unbuttoned, dragging in her blood.
He inserted three fingers of his right hand, feeling inside her, trying to locate her G-spot. It was a little harder to find in the general flow than it had been last time, but he did. He rubbed it gently, and she writhed, her hands coming up to grasp his erect member, trying to pull him closer. He shook his head. Not yet.
He switched hands, getting some of his artificial fingers inside her. He regretted the loss of sensation, but his left hand would be able to keep this up without cramping. With his right, he carefully pressed her labia aside, baring her clitoris. It was already glistening with her blood, the barest touch now would probably…. He clenched his teeth hard. She was still touching him, now concentrating on the tip, or rather on the rim around it. The sight of her combined with her ministrations to make life exquisitely unbearable for him, and he wondered how the hell he was going to last long enough to make the most of this, their last encounter.
If she noticed which hand he was using for what, she didn't seem to care. Her eyes were closed now, and she was mewling helplessly as he slowly withdrew his left hand, letting the fingers glide over her still exposed clitoris. He leaned over her, taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking on it, then the other. He loved the colour of her nipples, rosy like on a blonde. It was true what they said; you never knew what to expect from a redhead.
He didn't want to get any more blood on her than was unavoidable, he was not a blood fetishist. This joining was important to him in a very different way, almost as a sacrament. Maybe that didn't make him any saner than if he had really been a fetishist, but he couldn't help it, it was how he viewed it. He could only hope it would mean something to her too, something special.
She groaned, almost pleading, and he did not know whether she wanted him to stop or go on, but there was no way he could hold back now. He plunged into her, full length, and he knew it was too fast and maybe too hard, but her blood would work fine as lubrication, she wouldn't get hurt. He felt her inside beginning to convulse, and her spasms pulled him right over the edge, in a state of mindless dissolution.
And she screamed. This time she screamed as he filled her, and the sound was highpitched like that of a queen cat, but not as wordless. This time, she screamed his name.
*************************
He managed to get underneath her without breaking contact. He would have stayed on top, but she felt so soft and fragile under him; he didn't want to crush her. Her blood was drying on his hands. He wondered briefly if he would ever get it out of the joints of his prosthetic fingers. She was resting peacefuly on him, her head on his chest. He blew gently on her hair.
"According to some cultures, we're family now", he said.
"What?" She remained where she was, too comfortable to raise her head.
"Intercourse with a menstruating woman is regarded like the mingling of blood.
The exchange of fluids turns the couple into blood brothers - or rather, blood siblings."
"What cultures?" she murmured against his chest.
"Can't remember. Probably some obscure tribes of New Guinea. Those people have lots of interesting ideas."
"I'm not New Guinean."
"Look upon it as an exchange of DNA."
"A localized blend possibly, not an exchange. Unless you managed to sneak it into my bloodstream, which I doubt. You're not built like a syringe."
He laughed at that, nearly dropping out of her. Then, slowly he said, "Neither are you. And yet I think you've punctured my heart."
"Please don't go all Russian on me, Alex." Her voice was muffled against his chest; he couldn't quite tell the tone of it.
"Just thought I'd give you fair warning. You won't get rid of me now - little sister."
"What's that in Russian?"
He gave her a surprised glance - but she still wasn't looking up. "S'estr'onka - why?"
"I just like to be able tell when you're calling me names."
- 20 -
Forest way station, February 12th
The snowmobile was coming closer. They had heard it for a while now, ever approaching, though maybe not in a straight line. Coming in broad daylight it probably posed no threat, but it did not hurt to be careful. Krycek was waiting with the rifle; Scully had both knives. Not much as weaponry went, but at least she could be moral support.
Finally, the vehicle lunged into view over a large snowdrift, and they could see its rider. He was wearing fatigues, but he did not appear to be armed. He held up one hand as he approached, needing the other to steer. Krycek kept his rifle trained on him. "That's far enough!" he called as the snowmobile was within fifteen feet of them.
The rider nodded, throttled the engine and stepped off. With both hands raised, he approached them carefully. "I have a message for you!" he shouted through the sudden silence.
"Okay, give it here", Krycek said.
The other shook his head. "It's not in writing. I was sent to tell you this: Mulder has been found."
"Alive?" Scully called out.
The soldier looked puzzled. "As far as I know. Shouldn't he be? Anyway, there's no longer any need for you two to remain here. Can you find your way to the dropoff?"
"What dropoff?" Krycek asked. He hadn't lowered his rifle.
"The place where you set down as you came here?"
"I guess so", Krycek said. "But we're not going anywhere."
Scully shot him a quick glance but said nothing.
"Any pickup will have to be made here", Krycek insisted.
The soldier shrugged. "Suit yourselves. Not much of a landing area, but we can always try. Long as you keep your front yard clear."
*************************
Scully closed her suitcase. Packing her things had been quick. "Why not the dropoff area?" she asked.
Krycek had needed even less time. His backpack was tied and sealed. "Anything to throw a wrench into their plans. If they want us trudging through the wilderness again, I don't. Besides, it could always be a trap."
"I can think of better traps." She looked at the bed. "We should have burned that mattress. It's still lying around in the store, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I've half a mind to bring it in before we leave - anything to confuse them."
"They'll know. After all, nobody's dead."
He grinned briefly, then he reached for her hand. "It was great though, Dana.
Sure you don't want a final…?"
"Alex…"
"Okay okay. But I didn't know they'd give us almost three weeks."
"Alex, it's got to stop somewhere. Let the last time be the last time." Because I don't think I could take another, she thought. I'm enough of a wreck as it is.
"The sensible Dr Scully", Krycek said. "But how deep does that sense run - little sister?"
The epithet made her flush hot and cold. How could she ever hear that now, without thinking of him? She hoped fervently that Mulder would have resolved his own sister issue. He might find his partner prone to sudden fadeouts otherwise. Mulder…. there was no easy way to deal with this.
"Mulder will know something happened", she said with absolute certainty. "What the hell can I tell him?"
Krycek gave her his best sun-edge smile. "You could always tell him I make you scream."
*************************
In the morning, a small, white helicopter set down gingerly less than fifteen feet from their porch. Its rotors whirled up some of the snow on the roof, causing a miniature avalanche.
The craft was only half as big as its predecessors, looking more like somebody's private toy than anything belonging to the military - or the Syndicate. Maybe it was the best they could do, given the constrained landing field.
Krycek and Scully grabbed their baggage and got out, bent double against the wind of the rotors. The pilot was waiting for them outside his machine. The vessel might look like a rich man's indulgence, but the pilot was in fatigues and carrying a machine gun.
"Just her." He pointed to Scully.
Krycek flared. "What're you talking about? There's room enough for the three of us!"
"Just her. Orders. They'll send someone for you later."
"Alex, it's probably for the best", Scully reminded him. "We don't know where they're taking us. They can't exactly drop me on the doorstep of the J Edgar building with you in tow."
"Judging by how long it took us to get here, that flimsy thing won't make it to Washington. Not DC anyway."
"Well, so what if they're taking me to wherever Mulder is?" When he did not answer, she kept walking toward the helicopter.
Krycek didn't like the look of things, but he had to concede her point. If they had wanted her dead, they could have arranged it without wasting fuel. Much as he hated to admit it, it seemed far more likely that she was going back to her world - and he to his. Unless the Smoker simply wanted her out of the way, so there'd be no witnesses later, when he got rid of an agent who had outlived his usefulness? Krycek sighed. Fine, he could deal with that. It wouldn't be the first time. Sometimes it amazed him that the old man never learned.
"S'estr'onka!"
She stopped immediately. Somehow, he had rather suspected she would. He walked up to her, touched her face gently with his gloved hand.
"Stay out of the convent, Dana. When all this is over, I'll come for you."
She raised an eyebrow. "I must say I don't find that thought very reassuring." He wanted to kiss her, deeply, wildly, long enough to make her forget there ever was a lunatic named Mulder in the world. But the pilot was watching them. Looking bored, but still watching.
Habit took over. Krycek stepped back two paces, his face suddenly inscrutable.
"Maybe you shouldn't."
*************************
February 14th
The smoking man entered the old way station. The fumes of his cigarette were adding to the already stale atmosphere of the place. He had a look around the main living area much like an honoured guest being shown into an unfamiliar room. He was smiling, as if he liked what he saw - or if his plans had all worked out lately.
His gaze fell on the topmost mattress of the bed, and just for a moment, his smile faded. Then it was back, wider than before, but still without showing teeth.
Dana was right, Krycek thought. He knows. He wasn't any too sure why he had brought the thing back in. It seemed like a childish gesture now. It wouldn't confuse anyone.
"Cosy little place you've got here", the smoker said, conversationally.
Krycek sighed. "Look, if you've come to pick me up, then let's go. If you've come for something else, then do something about it already."
The smoker went over to the stove, opened its fuel compartment and flicked the last of his cigarette into it. "There's no hurry. But then, you always were the impatient type, weren't you, Alex?"
Krycek glanced toward the stove. Why the consideration? Was the old man really concerned about the fire hazard, or didn't he want to leave his usual signature where it could be easily found? "All right", he said, "what's your game this time?"
The old man actually chuckled. "Game? Why would I be playing with you? Do you see me as the proverbial cat, Alex?" He did not bother to elaborate. "As you've no doubt noticed, I have a helicopter waiting. It would be hard to miss, wouldn't you say? But, don't you think you owe me a report before we leave?"
Krycek stared at him. "What report? You sent me to find Mulder, then you trapped me here until you could find him yourself. Some report. Short story syndrome."
The older man smiled. Forcing a new cigarette out of a tormented packet of Morleys, he said, "I'm disappointed in you, Alex. You're jumping to conclusions. Who said I found Mulder?"
"You sent a message that he had been found. When you use the passive form, it usually means you're involved."
The lighter flared briefly. "Not this time, I'm afraid. Some environmentalists came across him running aimlessly through the woods, yelling, Who are you? and What do you want?"
Krycek snorted derisively. "So he's finally snapped."
The transition from amusement to dead earnest was instantaneous. The pale blue eyes speared the assassin. "I wouldn't be so sure. After all, there is precedent for this kind of behaviour. In Agent Mulder."
Krycek turned his back on the old man, recklessly. "Yeah, yeah I know. He can lose all his marbles and cause you no end of trouble, but he can do nothing wrong." He spun around, suddenly sick of pretense. "He'll never follow your lead - or anyone else's for that matter. I'll have your operation yet, old man. You know it. It's only a matter of time; you can't live forever."
The smoker flicked ash on the floor. Once more amused, but not impressed. "Indeed? And when you have - my operation, as you so quaintly put it, what will you do with it?"
For a moment, Krycek was on the brink of telling him. What you should have done in the first place, you plotting old - chort. I'll use it to fight the colonists. He held back just in time - or at least he hoped he had. The words had been virtually on his tongue. What if the old devil really was telepathic?
"You can't win, Alex", the smoker said. As if to emphasize his words, he walked over to the table where the chess board was still set up, game unfinished. He made three moves on one side, two on the other, and left the white king checkmate. "You don't take the long view."
Krycek snorted at the theatricals. "Okay, so I don't. It would still be nice to be out of here."
The smoker went past him without comment, into the old café. Presently, Bob Dylan's world-weary voice launched into one of the poet's more pensive numbers:
I-I-I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronzed…
The older man came back into the main room, "I understand you disabled the cameras, Alex." He pulled on his cigarette. "Did you know you missed one?" His tone was light, on the point of indifference.
Krycek closed his eyes briefly. "Where?"
"That question is rather academic now, don't you think?"
Silence.
The smoker went over to the stove. Opening the wood compartment once more, he let his second cigarette join the first. Only half smoked. "You still haven't given me your report."
"If you really had a camera left all this while, then you know all there is to know." And more than you ever had a need to know, you decrepit bastard.
The smoker smiled blandly at him. "Think Mulder would be interested in the footage?"
He was rewarded by a look of pure, emerald fury. "Look, if you do anything to harm her -"
The other beamed as if he had been looking forward to precisely this reaction. "She'll come to no harm. I have great plans for her."
From the café, the haunting tune persisted:
And so it did happen, like it could have been foreseen,
the timeless explosion of fantasy's dream…
"If Mulder ever finds out, he'll kill her", Krycek said.
The smoker smiled thinly. "I see you don't know Fox Mulder, Alex." He went over to the window and looked out. The helicopter was sitting where he had left it, its pilot waiting patiently. "I shouldn't worry", he said dryly. "Agent Scully will live a long time. A very long time…"
Krycek sat down on the bed, disregarding the soiled mattress. It was dry now anyway.
The old man brought out his dented packet of Morleys, looked into it and changed his mind. Letting it slide back into his pocket, he said, "I came to warn you, Alex."
The jukebox was still at it:
'All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight' - I gagged in contradiction, tears blinding my sight…
Krycek wished the damn thing would shut up. "Warn me of what?"
….I ran into the night, leaving all of love's ashes behind me.
"Don't do anything that might interfere with your work." The tone was clipped, almost inflectionless. "You're useful only so long as you keep a cool head." A faint smile, then, "Besides, you'd have Mulder to contend with."
"I've no idea what you're talking about."
The smoker beamed at him. "Then all is well. Shall we go?"
"About time." Impatiently, Krycek snatched up his backpack and shouldered his way out the door ahead of his visitor. Behind him, the jukebox was finally closing its narrative:
I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
will be fully aware of how precious she is.
The smoking man paused in the doorway to let the last harmonica notes ring out into the fading day. "Ballad in Plain D", he said pleasantly. "Great piece, wouldn't you say? A little before your time of course, but - quite evocative."
He let the door fall shut. "Quite evocative…" he muttered.
Pulling his coat around him, he hurried after his wayward agent.
*************************
When she finally found him, it was quite undramatic. She came walking out of the woods as he had so often dreamed, and there wasn't even a bright light behind her. Just his long lost sister in a print dress and sandals, despite the season.
She looked a little pale, but it was definitely her this time. He had never been so sure of anything. No matter how this turned out, it had to be the end of the road.
She stopped in front of him, a few steps away, as if she were less certain than he. He understood, and felt sorry for her. She must be feeling the same doubts he had harboured for so long. She needed time. So he waited, drinking in the sight of her. Her dark brown hair was as thick as ever, and loosely braided. Some wisps of it had escaped confinement and were now gently stirred by the wind.
They stood for a while like that, looking at each other. Then her mind was made up.
"Fox", she said, and the short word had a ring of finality to it, as if she too had reached the end of the line.
He swallowed, choking on her name. "I thought you were dead", he said when he found his voice.
She looked him up and down.
"And I thought you'd be taller."
The End
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