Disclaimers in Part One.
"Scully? Scully where are you?"
I can't believe this. I can't fucking believe this. Was it something I said? Who's fucking idea was it to start drinking anyway? Emotional release is one thing but this woman is having a fucking mental breakdown.
I scan the parking lot frantically, praying that she hasn't run back into the road or something, and finally spot her across the way next to the Pinto. She's kicking it. Great. She's probably gonna put a fucking hole in the door to top off our troubles.
I approach her slowly, in much the same way I would a dying wild animal.
"Scully, hey Scully."
She looks up when I am a couple feet away. She's crying in a way that I haven't let myself cry since I was a little kid. Heaving sobs and flowing tears and she's hunched over clutching her stomach. I don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to do here.
"Scully, Scully, you've gotta relax, calm down Scully."
I reach out to touch her shoulder in a lame attempt at comfort and she straightens and jerks away.
"Don't touch me! Don't fucking touch me! Just leave me alone."
What happened to the calm, cool and collected woman I kidnapped? This is too fucking weird. This is not Dana Scully.
"Scully, I don't know what's wrong but whatever it is, this isn't gonna help. Why don't you come back to the room with me and go to sleep."
"Fuck you!"
Okay, bad idea I guess. God, I am so crappy at this. I don't even remember the last time I saw someone cry.
"Scully, come here."
I put myself between her and the car, a dangerous place to be, and reach out for her. She pulls back but she's so trashed she doesn't stand a chance. I grab her by the arms and pull her to me and squeeze her as tight as I can.
"Let me go, let me go you fucker, you fucking fuck!"
"Shh, potty mouth. Just relax Scully. Relax."
She's squirming in my arms and smacking at my chest for awhile but eventually the effort of fighting me and sobbing at the same time becomes too much and she collapses into me.
"Shhh, it's okay. You're gonna be fine," I whisper into her hair, trying to convince myself more than her. She's clutching the front of my shirt and I can feel her tears leaking through the material. I start rubbing the part of her back that's covered by her tank top and I feel her body loosen.
"You're fine Scully. Everything's fine."
I think I could be whispering Russian and it would have the same effect as these inadequate words. But she seems to be getting calmer and calmer. Her sobs quiet to whimpers and sniffles and she's shaking a little less.
"Remind me never to get you drunk again missy."
She doesn't laugh but she doesn't scream FUCK YOU either so I guess it wasn't a totally stupid thing to say.
I hold her for awhile longer, stroking her back and whispering ridiculous platitudes and eventually she stops crying completely. Eventually she lets go of my shirt and her arms come around my back. Eventually I start to feel like it's time to stop hugging her because she's okay and this is really odd.
"Okay?"
She nods and sniffs and I know that it's time. Time to let go. Any old day now.
Okay, maybe odd wasn't the right word. Or maybe it wasn't the only word. I'd have to add really really nice to that. And when I feel her hands slowly start to move over the muscles in my back I decide I should probably add surprisingly comforting. When she sighs and snuggles up closer to me I start to add things I really don't want to add.
"Scully?"
"Mmm…"
Oh boy. This is not good. Something's different. Something in her body, in the way she's moving, God I can almost smell it. This is not a comfort hug anymore. How did that happen?
And how did my hand move to the part of her back that's not covered by her tank top. The upper part of her back and then over the nape of her neck and then her breath, her breath on the side of my neck and her lips, oh Jesus. Oh SHIT.
She starts placing tiny kisses on my neck, working slowly up to my ear and I moan and pull her closer without even considering what the fuck I'm doing. It just feels so good, so different. I'm hard as a fucking rock. When did that happen? My hand tangles in her hair and when I feel her tongue tracing over the outside of my ear I lean against the door of the Pinto and pull her with me. I can't even support my own fucking weight right now.
Pretty soon her tongue is inside my ear and her hands are moving faster, pulling at my T-shirt, sliding underneath it. Oh God. What the fuck is happening? Where the hell are we? I think she drove us into the Twilight Zone.
"I want you so bad Krycek."
Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck. No you don't Scully. No you don't. But I can't bring myself to say that. Not when her body is pressing against me like that and she's touching me like that and licking my fucking neck. No, my reaction is to kneel down and grab her by the thighs, lift her up and turn, slamming her against the car and burying myself between her legs.
She gasps and her eyes shoot open. For a second I'm sure she's gonna spit in my face. Then she smiles. She fucking smiles. And she wraps her legs around my waist and grinds against my already painfully throbbing cock and clutches my hair in her hands and pulls my face to hers. And she kisses me. Dana Scully kisses the shit out of me against a 1976 Pinto in the dusty parking lot of Bub's Bar, Hotel, Grocery and Post Office.
There is no finesse in this kiss whatsoever. Just the knashing of the teeth and the tongues of two desperate souls with too much vodka and too little sense. She tastes better than I ever would have imagined. Not that I ever would have imagined in the first place. My tongue in Dana Scully's salty, sultry mouth is not something I ever would have imagined in a million years. But there it is. And right now I wouldn't change it for the world.
Pretty soon we're actually biting and she's pulling so hard on my hair that I'm pretty sure chunks of it are going to be embedded in her fingernails and she's groaning and grinding and I can't help but start thrusting against her hungrily. Very hungrily. Almost savagely. This is so fucking weird.
She stops kissing my mouth and moves her lips and tongue sloppily over my chin and cheek, back to my ear. I pull her hair away from her neck and start sucking on the skin there. Her skin tastes even better than her mouth. I wonder how good she tastes everywhere else.
I grab at her hips and then a little higher and when I look down and see her nipples, hardened and huge, poking against the material of her shirt, I have to touch them. I have to bite them.
She cries out loud enough for the truckers inside Bub's to hear and digs her nails into my scalp. Her fucking T-shirt tastes good. I snake my hand under the fabric and touch her bare stomach. And then a little higher again. I run my thumb over the tip of the breast not currently between my teeth and her whole body trembles violently. I squeeze it between my thumb and forefinger and she throws her head back against the car.
"God, yeah. Do it harder."
She's so fucking beautiful.
"Fuck me Krycek. Right here. Right now."
"Oh God…Scully…God," I whimper, just about helpless at this point. I can't even remember the reasons that this is wrong. So wrong. How am I supposed to tell her?
I can't fuck her. I know that I can't. God, I can't. But I can't stop either. It just feels so good rubbing against her like this, back and forth and up and down, mimicking the action but still fully clothed. Does this count as sex? Is this gonna fuck things up just as badly?
I don't think it matters because I couldn't escape even if I wanted to. She's got me clamped against her in a vice grip with her thighs. Damn that woman has some strong thighs.
She moans into my ear and her hands slide down my back to clutch my ass, her fingers kneading the flesh, pulling me impossibly closer to her. I can feel her heat even through those silly red sweatpants and the thick jeans I've got on. God I wanna be in her so bad, I can't even imagine how fucking amazing it would be. I can barely remember my name from just this frenzied grinding.
Suddenly her head slams against the car with a thump and she starts rotating her hips insanely. Her face…God, I know that face. That's her almost there face. Oh Scully please, please don't say Mulder. Just this once.
She gasps and her body tenses and then shudders violently.
"Jesus…God….KRYCEK!"
Oh thank you. Thank you thank you thank you.
She shakes for a little bit and wraps her arms tight around my neck and then her legs slide down and on to the ground. I kiss her again and I can feel her smiling big against me. It's been a long time hasn't it Scully?
I run a trail of kisses down her neck and start to pull my lower body away from hers. My erection is still pressed against her stomach and it's really starting to become a troublesome matter. But she won't let me go still. Her hands grab at my backside again and she licks the inside of my ear.
"I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me against this car."
She reaches down and strokes me through my jeans and I could fucking scream like a little girl it feels so good. Then her fingers start tugging at the buttons on the fly and before I know it her hand is inside my pants, wrapped around my dick.
"You want it too. You're so big and hard for me. I know you want it. Give it to me Krycek."
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. I think it's my turn to cry. I don't know what the fuck my problem is but I don't think that I can do this.
"Scully…I…ugh…"
Oh man. I don't think I can stop it at this point either. I don't know how but she knows exactly how to touch me. I could probably come right now in her hand if I let myself.
But I can't. Fucking Christ. I just can't.
I grab her hand and pull it away. Then I back away.
"Scully…we can't."
She stands there for a minute with her mouth hanging open. I start to button up my pants.
"We can't. We can't."
I wish I could fucking breathe.
"Excuse me?"
Great. She sounds pissed.
"We can't. We can't."
Very articulate as always.
She frowns and looks down at the ground. Then she looks back at me. Her eyes are wide and confused and watery. Oh shit. Shit.
"What the fuck Krycek? Am I that goddamn repulsive?"
"Oh God, Scully, Scully no. No."
"Well what the fuck?"
She's crying again. Nice comfort there buddy.
"Scully…Scully look at me. It's me. It's Krycek. Remember. Murderer, thief, liar, traitor, idiot, remember? You don't want me Scully. You don't."
I want to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her but I'm terrified to touch her again. I think even the briefest contact would be enough to send me over the edge. I can't stop fucking shaking myself.
"You think you know so much about me? About what I want? You don't know SHIT!"
"Scully, think about what will happen if we do this."
"What? What will happen? Will the Earth stop turning on its axis? Will the heavens fall?"
"Maybe."
"Fuck you."
She turns on her heel and starts stalking back to the room. I follow her like a fucking fool.
"Scully, think about it. You're drunk, you're upset, you're not seeing things clearly."
"What happened to follow your feelings Scully? What the fuck happened to that?"
She throws open the door and we both go inside. Why am I still planning on sleeping in this room tonight? I must have fucking brain damage.
"I don't think you're really listening to what your feelings are telling you right now though. I don't think you're doing this because you have feelings for me. I think you're doing this because of some fucked up, unresolved issues between you and Mulder and I don't wanna be a fucking surrogate Scully."
I slam the door and realize that I am suddenly very very angry. And that I am starting to hate Fox Mulder.
"You wanna know what's gonna happen if we do this? Maybe the Earth won't stop spinning Scully, but I'll fall in love with you and you'll wake up hating me for taking advantage of you and for not being Mulder and you'll probably tell Mulder out of some misplaced sense of guilt and he'll kill me with his bare hands and then shoot himself in the head. Is that what you want?"
You can stop screaming anytime now Alex. Deep breath. In and out.
"You love Mulder, whether or not he deserves you. And fucking me isn't gonna change that."
She stares at me for a minute with her hands on her hips and then runs to the bathroom. She moves to slam the door and then realizes there isn't one. I watch her look at herself in the mirror and then back at me.
"What if I don't want to love Mulder? What if it hurts too much and I can't stand it anymore?"
"Scully we can't choose who we love. I'm sorry that it's hurting you but think about how much worse you'll feel if you sleep with me, if you try to make yourself love me and see that it doesn't work."
"You don't know that."
"Yes I do. I've done it before Scully. I've been where you are. And I've spent my life fucking all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons. It doesn't help Scully. It doesn't make it hurt any less."
She sways a little bit and then turns away from me. Then she falls to her knees and starts heaving into the toilet. I run into the bathroom and kneel down behind her, pulling her hair away from her face and stroking her back as she expels a double cheeseburger, about 200 French fries and onion rings, a bag of pork rhinds and over half a bottle of vodka from her stomach.
When she's done I help her up and flush the toilet. She sits down on the lid and I run water over a wash cloth and bring it to her face.
"Scully, if I had it my way I'd say fuck it all. Fuck this whole stupid life and I'd take you off to some strange tropical paradise where no one speaks English or knows what an EBE is. But that's not our life. And you wouldn't want it to be."
"I think…I think I need to lie down."
We walk back to the bedroom and I stand by the window, not sure what I'm supposed to do now. Then she starts pulling her shirt off. Shit. What the hell is she trying to do to me here? I should turn away but I can't. And after the shirt goes the shoes and the socks and finally the sweatpants and she's standing there in her underwear. The erection that finally disappeared when she started vomiting has returned with a vengeance.
She crawls under the covers and turns on her side, away from me.
"Goodnight Krycek."
Um, okay.
"Good…goodnight Scully."
She turns off the bedside lamp and I lay down on top of the covers next to her. Pretty soon I hear her start to snore and I relax a little. Maybe I'll be able to sleep eventually too. I think I might have to head back to the Pinto first though. I just hope I can manage to see somebody else's face when I make myself come tonight.
*************************
The last time I woke up with a headache like this it was because of chemotherapy. I'm also extremely dehydrated and confused.
Getting drunk is such a very strange thing. When you're there you feel like it's the last night of your life, like nothing you do or say will have any effect whatsoever and you might as well go with whatever impulse strikes you. You also tend to feel like the entire world is either out to get you or thinks you are the queen of the universe. Usually both at one point or another. You get reckless, you get stupid and you think that you're having fun but you're not entirely sure. Eventually though, the fun and the misery stop and you fall asleep. And then you wake up.
My companion is still passed out on top of the bedsheets, fully clothed except for shoes but I am awake. Awake and in my underwear. And I think something's crawling up my
leg.I slip out from under the blankets and hurry into the bathroom to gulp down some tap water and hop into the shower. The hot water makes me feel like I might live after all.
God, what the fuck am I gonna do now? What was I thinking getting drunk like that? Feeling the way I did, it was bound to cause problems. Problems. Nice understatement. Throwing yourself at Alex Krycek in a parking lot is a problem. Getting rejected by the man who would probably fuck his own mother if he thought he could get something for it is worse than a problem. And having to face him when he wakes up after crying like a fucking lunatic all night is something closer to a catastrophe.
At least he did turn me down though. I wonder how I would be feeling if he hadn't. The memories of last night's insanity start to crystallize in my mind and I remember some of the things he said to me. Much as it galls me to admit it, a lot of it was true. I probably would have woken up hating him and myself. I probably didn't really want him at all. As usual, it was all about Mulder. Damn circles.
Or maybe it's just that I've finally really become a man. Maybe I've finally achieved the coveted ability to separate sex and love into two distinct compartments, locked away forever, never the twain shall meet. Maybe I've become Mulder.
God, I don't think I've ever been so embarrassed in my life. If it weren't for his promises of Fowley incriminating evidence and a chance to get the X-files back I would be out the door right now. But the need for those things still burns in me. Despite my utter humiliation I need to carry on.
I wonder if this counts as a betrayal. We didn't fuck but I would have. Does that mean the same thing it would if we had? What would Mulder think? Would it destroy him to know that I even considered touching another man? God I hope not. I feel an errant tear escaping and wash it away angrily. This is not a good time to start feeling…well, anything. We can all see where feeling got me last night.
Luckily for everyone I suppose, Krycek's MORALS saved the day. Or his utter lack of desire for me. Either way, I'm still unsullied Scully. Celibate for five years and counting.
But hey, I did have an orgasm now that I think of it. How weird is that? He barely even touched me. God, it was a pretty intense one too if I remember correctly. I don't even remember the last time I came from grinding my crotch into someone. Probably when I was a thirteen year old bag of hormones capable of reaching orgasm at the mere suggestion of a boy touching me. Of course the last time I had an orgasm at all with another person present seems almost as long ago. Before I met Mulder. That seems like another lifetime. I kind of thought he'd be the one to break the dry spell. In fact I kind of knew it. I used to kind of know a lot of things.
Anyway I can't help but wonder, if Krycek could do that to me with our clothes on…
Oh well.
I turn off the tap and wrap myself in one of the ratty hotel towels. Once I'm dressed in my new team uniform, which desperately needs a run through Bub's laundry before we leave, I head back to the bedroom. Krycek is still lying on the bed but his eyes are open.
"Morning."
I can only nod and look away.
"How do you feel?" he asks me carefully. I'll bet he thinks I was too wasted to even remember what happened. Sadly I actually wasn't that far gone. Just far gone enough to become a complete basket case.
"I've got a headache."
He nods and stands up.
"Well, I'm gonna take a shower. We should get some breakfast and see how Bub's doing on the car when I get out."
He walks past me and towards the bathroom and I realize that maybe there was just a little bit more to my kamikaze bone jumping than I thought. He looks really good in the morning.
"Krycek…"
He turns to face me and gives me a half hearted smile.
"Thanks. For last night. You….you did the right thing."
He nods kind of sadly and shrugs.
"I kind of thought you'd think so. Don't turn me into a gentleman just yet though. And don't start thinking I do anything for purely selfless reasons."
"No of course, wouldn't want to ruin your reputation."
"It was hard though Scully. It was really really hard."
"Yeah I saw, remember?"
He just sneers at my attempt to share the embarrassment. Of course. Like anything could embarrass him.
"Krycek…why exactly…"
"I told you why last night. Remember?"
"Mostly but, I mean is that all there is?"
Why I feel the need to ask him this is beyond me. Why should I care if he finds me undesirable? He's certainly not alone. But for some reason I really just want to hear him admit it. For some reason I can't believe, no matter how hard I try, that any man would turn an even remotely attractive woman down out of concern for her well being and given Krycek's questionable character the scenario seems even less likely. I guess I just want to finally face the truth about myself.
"Cause sometimes Krycek, sometimes I start to wonder…"
"Wonder what?"
"About why I…why it's…forget it. Nevermind."
This is stupid. I never used to be like this. I never used to care. I shake my head, utterly disgusted at the insecure mess I've become and start to walk away. Is this what I turn into when Mulder's not here? When I'm out of his presence and less intent on keeping up a brave front, on not showing any weakness, is this what comes out? I didn't realize this neglected and ignored side of my self had grown and festered to such an alarming size.
"No, wait. What? What are you talking about?"
"It's not important. Go take a shower so we can get out of here."
"It is important. Scully this isn't that thinking you're repulsive thing again is it?"
I stare at the door to our room, hoping someone will break it down and take me out of here really fast. Krycek comes around from behind me and plants himself right in my face.
"It's not Scully, is it?"
"Not repulsive per se. It's just…it's hard sometimes to think of myself as a woman, a desirable woman. Sometimes I…I don't know what I'm supposed to be. I feel so…so old sometimes. Like I've aged about twenty years since I graduated from Quantico. I think I've turned old Krycek. Old, bitter and patently unattractive. I blame the government."
"Scully, honestly, I think I know how you feel. It's hard to think of yourself as attractive, as normal, even as human when you live the kind of lives that we do. But the fact is that you're one of the most beautiful women in the world. You're brilliant, strong, sexy, and bitter yes but that's kind of sexy too and maybe Mulder doesn't tell you that which makes him a fucking idiot but I know that he thinks it."
Oh God, how did we start talking about Mulder again? Why the hell did I even open my mouth again? Stop the self pity train, I wanna get off!
"I wasn't fishing for compliments Krycek."
"Well good cause I don't give them."
"Fuck, why am I wondering if he remembered to eat breakfast? Goddamn him."
"Because you love him Scully. And I'm sure he didn't because he's probably out of his mind wondering where you are by now."
Why do I find that hard to believe? Why do I imagine that he's still in his office with his fucking documents?
"He's gonna kill you Krycek. You know that. You might as well have slept with me. You've got nothing to lose."
"That's not entirely true Scully. I'm not afraid of Mulder. That's not why I stopped you…" He pauses and takes a deep breath before continuing and I realize how stupid it would be to even think that he would be afraid of Mulder. The man had his arm cut off with no anesthesia. I can't imagine he'd be afraid of much in the area of physical injury after that.
"Scully, it would be so easy to fall in love with you. Too easy. And I don't have room for that kind of shit right now. I can't afford it. Especially not when I know how it would make you feel. How badly it would screw everything up."
Alright, stop right there. The room is spinning.
"Wait, what did you just say? You said that last night too didn't you? About falling in love with me? What does that mean?"
He laughs and shakes his head.
"What does it mean? I dunno, do you want a treatise on the definition Scully?"
"No but I mean, you're not serious. I mean you're just saying that…right?"
"Scully, why in God's name would I just say that? It's not a particularly pleasant thing to say. And I wouldn't say it as a compliment. In fact if I were you I would probably consider it an insult."
Oh my God. I am the shittiest person who ever lived. How selfish and childish can you get? Mulder has got NOTHING on me. He may have used Diana to get to me but at least she wasn't there to see it. At least he treated HER decently. Not that his words would have bothered her in the least anyway. This is so much worse.
"Oh Krycek, I…God, I am so sorry."
I feel like crying again. When did I turn into such a heartless bitch? When did I start hurting every man I come into contact with? Why the hell did he have to say that? This wasn't supposed to have anything to do with love, with any kind of feeling. This was a mistake. A drunken abhoration. I'm starting to understand just how huge a mistake it might have been.
"Sorry? For what?"
He looks utterly confused.
"For what I did, for my…for you…for everything…"
"I've gotta say this is the first time a woman has apologized for coming on to me Scully. Please, hurt me some more."
"I wasn't even thinking about you. I was so wrapped up in myself, God, I'm just really sorry." What the hell WAS I thinking about? The best possible way to hurt myself, Mulder, Krycek and every innocent bystander who happens upon us?
"Scully, you shouldn't think about me. You shouldn't have to. You've got enough problems. Yet another reason that the whole thing would have been a bad idea."
"Well, thank you anyway. For everything."
"Like I said, it was mostly in the interest of self preservation. But don't think you'll be so lucky next time Scully. I wouldn't try that twice."
"Thanks."
I lean in and kiss his cheek and he gives me a hug.
"Everything's gonna work out Scully. Honestly."
Right. Everything's gonna work out just fine. I smile into his chest and get a really strong sense of deja vu. Haven't we been here before? I've really gotta get myself together. Apparently the parallel isn't lost on Krycek either because after a moment he pulls away abruptly.
"Alright, I've really gotta go."
"Yeah you do. Take a shower Krycek, you stink."
"Hey you were pretty ripe yourself before."
"Fuck you Krycek."
He laughs as he walks to the bathroom.
"Why do I never tire of hearing you say that? I'm gonna have to teach you to swear in Russian before this trip is over though. We have more ways of saying fuck than you can even imagine."
I don't doubt it Krycek, I don't doubt it.
*************************
I wish I could know for certain that she wasn't in any danger. If I knew that for sure I would be able to explain this feeling knawing away at my gut. This feeling of loneliness and betrayal. This anger.
This is so different than the other times. Times when I've almost lost her because of outside interference, other people's agendas, the evil we face daily. In a way those times were almost easier.
There is no logical reason for my immediate conclusion that Scully chose this. I've seen and heard nothing to prove it. And a part of me is still terrified that she's in trouble, that she's hurt, or worse. And that part of me is still looking for her with tenacity bordering on insanity. But I think that part is in denial. The rest of me has become so aware of the reality of this situation that it's becoming almost impossible to ignore. Scully ditched me.
I don't think that she's gone for good, although that was my first panicked assumption. I think that she's just found something else. Something that she can't or won't share with me. Why is that so much more painful than thinking she's been abducted by spacelings and taken off to some flying motherwheel, as Spender would say.
God I need a shower. Running doesn't get rid of the knawing feeling anymore. It just makes me sweaty and more angry. And even less motivated to function in the world. I can't even try to get off my couch right now. What's the fucking point?
When did I lose everything? When did Scully become part of everything and not the only thing? Is this my fault somehow?
These questions haunt my waking hours and since I don't really sleep anymore that's pretty much all my hours. I've been over the weeks before she left so many times that my brain is numb from thinking about it. I miss her. I miss the closeness we had not so long ago. Why did we run from it? Is that my fault too?
"Is it?" I ask the fishies. As usual they don't have an answer for me. In fact I think one of them just died. I don't even have the energy to scoop it out with the net.
A knock at the door jolts me out of this trance like state and for a brief moment I am sure that it's Scully. She wouldn't knock though. Not anymore. We moved past the knocking stage about 4 years ago. Is that why she left? Because I don't knock before I come in anymore?
"Come in," I call out, utterly unconcerned with who it is. Maybe it will be a band of thugs deposed to shoot me. Put me out of my misery. I might do it myself if I had the energy.
I hear heels clacking on the wooden floor and turn around with a new false hope which is immediately dashed. It's Diana.
"Hello Fox," she says standing over me with the most putrid look of pity I've ever seen on anyone's face in my life. I just wave. She's holding a manila envelope, clutching it to her chest and she sits down next to me.
"Fox I've got something to…to show you."
Oh shit. She sounds REALLY worried about me now. Panic and hope rise in my chest.
"What is it? Did you find her?"
"Fox I…sort of. Somebody slipped this under the door of my office last night. I…Fox you better prepare yourself."
Oh my God. No.
"What is it? Is she all right?"
My voice is so high I sound like I've been sucking helium.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Yes she's fine Fox, that's…that's not it."
She's still clutching the damn folder to her chest like a fucking shield and I rip it out of her hands and start tearing at the flap.
"Fox I'm serious. You're not going to like this…"
I empty the contents of the folder onto my lap. It's a pile of about 5 or 6 pictures. I hold them up with only the top one visible and peer at it confused. It's a woman and a car. A butt ugly orange car. The woman is hunched over against the door clutching her stomach. She's wearing red sweatpants and a black tank top and a backwards baseball cap. The picture is taken from far away so it's a little difficult to make out her face. But the more I look at it the clearer it gets.
It's her. Oh my God it's her. And she looks so sad, like she's crying hysterically. Crying in a dusty parking lot all by herself. God Scully, where are you? What's happening? There's nothing in the picture to reveal the surroundings as far as I can tell. It looks like it might be a motel parking lot. There's part of a semi in the picture with Louisiana license plates but that doesn't mean anything. Those trucks go everywhere.
"Someone just put this under your door? No note or anything?"
"No, just the envelope."
"God, she looks so upset. What the fuck happened?"
"Fox…"
Oh right. There are other pictures.
I put the first one next to me carefully on the couch. I'm gonna need to bring it to the lab to make sure it's real and to look for clues.
The next one is also taken from a distance and it's basically the same picture except that there's a man in it. A man standing next to Scully. He's touching her shoulder and her face is twisted up. Fucking Christ. It's Krycek.
"Oh my God, Diana. We need to find her right away. This man is dangerous. She's in trouble…"
My heart is beating so fast I feel like I'm gonna keel over. What the fuck does he want with her? I'm gonna kill that fucking bastard this time.
"You…you know him?"
"Yeah I know him. He's a fucking scumbag. A murderer and a lying piece of shit."
Her eyes open wider and she frowns deeply.
"Oh Fox, I didn't realize you knew him. I…I'm sorry."
What the fuck is she talking about? I put this picture with the other one. The next one is closer, probably shot with a zoom lens. It's the two of them against the car hugging. HUGGING. They're fucking hugging. What the fuck is that? His fucking hand is on her back. Her hands are on his shoulders. Her face is buried in his chest and his nose is in her fucking hair. Her hat is lying on the ground next to them. This can't be Scully. It must be some other woman. Maybe a clone. Maybe a clone who kidnapped Scully with Krycek and they're dressing alike to confuse people. Or maybe it is Scully and she's just fooling him, making him think he's safe so she can kick him in the balls and escape.
The next picture is even closer and obliterates any hope of the second scenario being accurate. It also obliterates any trace of credibility to these pictures. They're kissing. He's got her pressed up against the car with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands in his hair and their mouths are open and I can see their fucking tongues.
"These aren't real."
"Fox…"
"They're not real. This…this isn't…they're not…it's fake."
I can hear the desperation in my own voice and so can she. She just shakes her head and puts her hand on my knee.
"I'm sorry Fox but I don't think so. I took them to the lab and…"
"You took this to the LAB?"
I'm not sure why this infuriates me so. It's just so fucking humiliating.
"Not that one but the first two."
"Well, maybe those are real but not this one. Not this one."
"Fox, why would someone…"
"I don't know Diana. Why do they do anything? To ruin me."
"Fox I think you need to maybe face the fact that she's just found someone else."
"Someone else? Someone else?? This isn't someone else Diana. This…man…this fucker killed my father and probably her sister too. This can't be real. What are the other ones?"
"Fox, maybe you shouldn't…"
I toss the kiss picture onto the coffee table. The next one is worse. He's biting her nipple through her T-shirt. I can see his fucking teeth. She's grabbing at his ass and her head is thrown back against the car, her mouth open and her eyes closed, the way I used to imagine….God she looks like she's having a fucking orgasm. And he's looking up at her with this deranged look in his eye.
"She wouldn't…she couldn't…this…"
The next and last is the absolute worst. It's the most vile and offensive thing I've ever laid eyes on. His hand is up her shirt and his head is thrown back. His face is tightened into a grimace of ecstasy. Because her hand is between them clutching his disgusting, heinous, living disease factory of a dick. Her eyes are open in this one and she's looking down at it with her lips parted and a look of dumbstruck awe on her fucking traitorous face.
"Fox?"
"We have to find them."
"Fox I don't know if that's…"
"We have to find them so I can rip the rest of this motherfucker's limbs off and shove them down his throat."
"Fox…"
"Don't fucking Fox me! Are you gonna help me or not?"
"Of course. Of course I'll help. Whatever you need."
There's only one thing in the world I need any more. A rusty knife to cut off Alex Krycek's fucking dick.
*************************
I guess this is our last goodbye
And you don't care
So I won't cry
I'm not sure if Bub was an actual mechanic in the strictest sense of the word but whatever he did, it worked. The Pinto was up and running before lunch time on our second day in Texas. The bill was "whatever yeh got" which, I was somewhat alarmed to find, consisted of 76 dollars cash, a Commemorative Canadian coin, a couple toothbrushes, the two or three changes of clothes I brought, and Scully's package of cotton underwear. Bub only seemed interested in the cash. Go figure.
I kept 30 of the dollars a secret from him so somehow we managed to get what probably amounted to 500 dollars in parts and labor for 46 dollars. Gotta love a hick. However this didn't solve the problem that we were left with 30 dollars to make it all the way to California. Now that we've finally escaped the barren wasteland of Texas and zipped through such wonders of nature as the Painted Desert and the Hopi Mesa, we're just about broke. We're going to have to break into Scully's wallet soon and I really didn't want to do that.
"Where the hell are we now?"
Sleeping beauty awakens. She's always so cheerful after a nap.
"Nevada."
"Ugh, still?"
"Buck up, we're almost in Las Vegas." Where I hope to turn 3 dollars in quarters into 300 dollars real fucking fast.
"We're not…stopping there are we?"
"Aren't you hungry? It's almost dinner time. I thought we could grab a bite and check out a couple casinos."
"What happened to our big hurry? A few days ago you didn't even wanna stop and let me pee, now you wanna go sightseeing?"
She's got a point I guess. Where did this desire to prolong our journey indefinitely come from? When did I start wishing the car would break down again? When did I start fantasizing about pretending it had? When did I start preferring this reality to any other and stop caring about the end result of what I'm trying to do? Gee Krycek, ya think it might have been when she stuck her hands down your pants? Or maybe when you saw her gorgeous face twisting into an orgasmic grimace?
God what a dumb fuck I am. I wonder if I'll ever stop kicking myself in the ass. How many men get an opportunity like that? I wish we were all normal people. I wish there wasn't so damn much at stake. Not that it would make that much difference. She would love him no matter what.
"Well Scully, we have to eat somewhere. I'm starving. And we need some cash quick. In fact, open the glove box wouldja?"
She sighs and pulls it open and then she stares inside, shaking her head.
"You little thief."
"Open it up and see how much cash you've got in there."
"Unbelievable."
She looks through the billfold and announces forlornly, "nine dollars and twenty-four cents".
"Geez Scully, the FBI doesn't pay the way they used to."
"Well excuse me. Next time you rob me I'll be sure to be more prepared."
"Right well, anyway, it's not enough. We can't use your credit cards obviously so it's gonna have to be Vegas."
"You actually expect to win money in Vegas?"
"I know I will. Trust me."
"Whatever Krycek. Just make it fast all right. I really wanna get this over with."
Right. Of course. So you can go home and show Mulder how clever and resourceful you've been, how you've saved the X-files and his ass yet again. Isn't that the plan? Isn't that what we both wanted?
Fuck. This wasn't supposed to happen. She's right. I might as well have slept with her.
*************************
Mulder, you would love Las Vegas. I think the whole place is a goddamn X-file. It's gotta be because our luck is actually good here. Yep, we went a-gambling. At a place called, of all things, Circus Circus. It was…well it was a circus. A huge 400 floor megalopolis containing a hotel, 4 casinos, 14 restaurants, an indoor theme park complete with rollercoasters and a carousel, 3 convenience stores, 10 or 50 gift shops and yes, live circus acts every half an hour. They even had their own television station. And a monorail. Can't forget the monorail.
I'll never be able to forget what it was like walking into the surreal sensory overload that was Circus Circus after 7 days of travel on the most deserted, dark and empty back roads in America. I never thought it was possible to see too many colors at once. And the constant cha ching of the slot machines, the depressing sight of hordes of ancient women anatomically connected to the money devouring things into the wee hours of the night, the monster sized quarter cups clutched to the chest of every single person in this town, well, let's just say it's been an interesting study in greed as a vice. Every other interest seems to take a back seat here. It's the only city I've been to where the good old fashioned dollar is valued over sex, liquor, food and violence. These people are too distracted to even get wasted.
It's actually pretty contagious. Okay, maybe it wouldn't have been if I'd been alone, jamming quarters into the slots and watching my hard earned paycheck disappear into oblivion. I probably would have grown disgusted in about 10 minutes. But I'm not here alone. I'm here with the most dishonest, sneaky, two-timing, back-stabbing guy I know. Or thought I knew. Anyway, I shouldn't have been surprised that he conned Las Vegas out of a wad of cash. I was wrong Mulder. The house doesn't always win. Sometimes the criminals do. I wonder if he could beat death too. I can see him now, distracting the grim reaper while he picks Satan's pockets…
But I digress. The point is, Vegas is a weird fucking place. And it seems to have captured us in its snare. When Krycek out jacked the black jack dealer and dumped all those pretty chips into our bag I have to admit I was just about jumping up and down. Of course that was before I realized that those white ones were hundreds. When I realized that I almost had a coronary attack. I wonder what he was planning to do if we had lost.
Our sudden encounter with good fortune left both of us in a state of delirium, so much so that the urgency of reaching our destination has dissipated yet again. We put aside 300 dollars for the remainder of the trip, quite generous considering we only have a day or two left, and decided to give the rest back to the money sucking monster. We're spending it here the way most of the luckiest gamblers do. Okay, maybe the house does always win.
Krycek rented us two deluxe rooms at the Palace for the night. Driving that pathetic fucking orange car up to the valet at this snooty assed place is another moment I won't soon forget. The valet's disgusted shock shifted to elated ass kissing pretty quick when Krycek stuffed three fifty's into his pocket for a tip.
I'm completely alone for the first time really since this whole bizarre escapade began, submerged in the best bubble bath of my life with plenty of time to think about what the hell I think I'm doing. This place is so swanky they've got a radio in the bathroom and I'm finally listening to some nice classical music. Unfortunately, there's also a goddamn phone in here. It seems to almost be staring at me, speaking to me. Dana, phone home.
I can't bring myself to do it yet. This is the first real vacation I've had in five fucking years. And I'm also afraid at this point. It's like when I used to stay out all night without calling mom and dad. Every hour that passed it grew more and more impossible to call them. When did I start thinking of Mulder as another father again? Are we really going backwards? Do we have to in order to go forwards?
Anyway at this point I am 100% certain that the call would be traced. That Mulder would be in Vegas within a few hours and that we would never make it to our destination.
I can't even think about it anymore. Not now. Not tonight. Tomorrow. And the day after that. And every day after that for the rest of my life. But not tonight.
I get out of the tub since all the bubbles finally popped and I'm turning into a pickled grape and I wrap myself in the cozy Palace issue bathrobe to dry off. I wander into the palatial bedroom and bury my toes in the thick carpeting. As I'm considering the contents of the minibar a flash of red catches me eye. I stare at it curiously for a moment, wondering how it got there, if some magic fairy snuck into my room and left it for me. But when I approach it I can see who my fairy is. And I'm so sure he'd love to hear that one.
It's a dress. A gown really. Deep, intense red, strapless with a huge slit in the back. It's velvet. And it's hanging from a hook on my door. There's a note attached to the hanger.
Put this on and meet me in the lobby at 8. I reckon
it'll make ya look purty.
-Joey
Whoo boy. What the hell is THIS? God this dress must have cost a fortune. I wonder if we've got enough left for dinner. Yeah probably. Daddy Warbucks has enough to open his own freaking bank.
I take the oddity off its hanger and peer inside at the tag. Size ONE?! I guess I should be flattered but really, I'm just horrified. The last thing I want to be forced to do is bring this thing back to him and tell him I couldn't fit my ass into it. Maybe if I don't wear any underwear…
I take off my robe, unzip the dress and step into it with nothing underneath. I pull it up over my breasts and reach around back to attempt a rezip. After a struggle matched only by my girlhood attempts to squirm into a pair of size zero Calvin Clein's, the thing closes. I walk, not an easy task, to the full length mirror and take a gander. Holy Mary Mother of God. Pray for me. I'm a sinner.
I notice the red velvet pumps on the floor for the first time and slip them on my feet. They fit perfectly. Slutty Cinderella.
Krycek bought this whole get up. He actually went into a women's clothing store and picked this out for me specifically. In the past two hours. It's absolutely the most confounding and surreal thing to happen on this trip. And that's saying a lot.
Is this a date I wonder. If this situation were at all normal I would consider it a date. I would probably be sitting here debating the merits of taking him to bed tonight. Pro's: sexy, good kisser, can create spontaneous orgasms out of thin air, probably fucks like his life depends on it. Con's: untrustworthy, potentially violent, probably a murderer, stole my wallet. We are so not normal.
*************************
Eddie van Blunht apparently has nothing on Alex Krycek. It's funny because I thought that the image of that fucker in my body attacking my Scully had been pretty much banished to the nether regions of my brain. Cause I mean hey, the whole problem with that was how come he got her to that point and I couldn't? What was it about him that made it so fucking easy. But I did get her to that point finally. That exact point. Kissus interruptus. I thought that was a pretty big fucking deal. Now I've gotta say once again, what the fuck is wrong with ME?
Diana managed somehow to pinpoint, through that first wide angled photograph, the exact location of the event. Don't ask me how. She took it off to the lab again and came back with a fucking latitude and longitude. Texas. Of course it would be in fucking Texas.
Anyway, we're now sitting on an airplane which is going to deliver us to Dallas soon and for the first time in forty eight hours I am not looking at those pictures. And I'm so pleased to know that I don't even need to have them in front of me to be able to conjure the images. They are burned into my memory for life.
I'll never forget her face. She was coming. She was definitely coming. I studied that damn picture for 10 hours straight the other night. Well, 10 hours off and on. The studying was interspersed with barfing.
It's been a particularly vile couple of days. Even by my standards. I think the lowest moment might have been taking my erect dick out of my pants and holding it up to that damn picture, trying to figure out if his was bigger, better, something, estimating the size of Scully's hand in relation to mine and trying to figure out the circumference. Yeah, it was a particularly pathetic night on the Mulder scale. I'll give it a 10, Dick. It's got a funky beat and you can sob to it.
Sobbing, there's something I haven't done in awhile. What's it been, fifteen minutes?
Dammit Scully, what did I ever do to you? What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?
I found that rusty knife. Even managed to get it past airport security. Being an FBI agent still has its advantages for now. But the more I think about it, the more it seems like too kind a punishment. I've had a lot of sick thoughts in my day but this is the first time I've ever seriously considering raping someone. Maybe I'll do both. Sexual humiliation AND mutilation definitely seems like the way to go on this one.
And then what? Well, so far my little fantasy hasn't evolved past this point. What will I say to Scully when she sees her boyfriend, dickless and sodomized, all the blood slowly leaking from his shriveling body? I wish I knew. I wish I had a fucking clue what I could say to her at this point. I suppose why would be a start. Why him? Why not me? Why? Why does he get what I've spent five years working for? Why Scully? Why?
*************************
You know, for a couple hours I actually had myself talked into believing that I was a nice guy. A gentleman. Trying to do something nice for a woman who sorely deserves it. I must have been wrong because upon seeing Dana Scully floating into my vision in the dress I oh so selflessly purchased for her all I can think for about five straight minutes is "nice fucking rack". I guess if I were a real gentleman I might have gotten her something demure and chiffon. Oh well.
After the initial shock of seeing her perfect breasts squeezed in and pushed out the top of that bodice sucking thing passes I take a gander at the rest of her. She's standing by the elevator, standing on her toes to look for me through the crowd. She must have gone to the drug store and gotten some makeup and hair stuff; crimson lipstick and black mascara and something to curl her hair and tie it up with. She's got these little wavy tendrils hanging down from her bun and they frame her face perfectly. No jewelry but that's fine. It would only be a distraction anyway.
She spots me and her mouth drops open about a foot. As she walks towards me she starts to laugh. I guess it is pretty funny. I can't remember the last time I wore a tux. Might have been my junior prom. About two thousand years ago. And the last time I shaved is an even greater mystery to ponder. Tonight I did both. Why? Don't fucking ask me. Please. I don't know what the point of any of this is supposed to be.
Well, I know what part of it is. To make Scully feel like the hottest woman on the planet. She deserves to see that in herself. I'd really like it if she got at least that much out of this. As for me, my only plans tonight seem to involve a variety of masochistic activities ranging from staring across the table at that face and those tits and knowing they are both forever out of my reach to talking to the brain attached to the body and letting her personality drip like acid into my empty shell of a heart. When I do self-emmolation, I do it right.
I wonder if Mulder's ever seen her dressed like this. Not bloody likely. I don't think their relationship would be so pathetically unconsummated if he had. Say what you will about Mulder, underneath it all he IS a guy. He might have more self control, or self hatred depending on how you see it, than most of us but he's gotta have testicles somewhere or other.
"Love the monkey suit," she tells me through the giggles.
"It's Hugo Boss."
"Oh a big shot then huh."
"Scully, you look…" God, are there even words?
"Like a prostitute? Who picked out this dress Krycek? You or Larry Flint?"
"A little cleavage does not a prostitute make Scully."
"A little?"
"Well whatever. You look amazing."
"Thanks. So…what is all this Krycek?"
"It's dinner Scully. Dinner."
And a chance to be normal people maybe. Just for a couple hours. Some time with you Scully, just for me, before I have to say goodbye. A few shared, enjoyed moments. Maybe a little temporary forgetfulness. She offered me her body the other night. I doubt another such offer will ever be forthcoming and for that I'm grateful. I don't have the strength to refuse again. But tonight, tonight I'm yearning for an offer of her mind, her full attention. I wonder if she can give me that. I wonder if it's possible to spend even two hours with Dana Scully and not have the ghost of Mulder hanging over us. I guess she wouldn't be Scully if that were even a remote possibility. I guess a lot of what makes her so desirable is a lot of what makes her so untouchable. But anyway, at this point anything's worth a shot right. How many more times am I gonna get an opportunity like this?
"Just dinner huh?" she asks with her arms crossed protectively over her breasts.
"Just dinner."
*************************
I don't know how but Krycek has managed to find a tasteful restaurant in Las Vegas. Low lighting (a true rarity in this town), quiet and pleasant music, and good Italian food. Once again we stick out like a sore thumb but at least we match this time. We are probably the only people under fifty in the entire place. Most of the women are wearing necklines up to their earlobes and the men are in very traditional looking tuxedos and suits. Well, except for the ones in bolero ties. Krycek and I look like we just stopped in on the way back from the MTV Music Video Awards.
Despite the fact that we don't exactly fit in everyone's been extremely polite and the service is excellent. Well, maybe not everyone. Krycek has been staring at my breasts in a pretty rude manner for some time now. At least the other men in this place look out of the corner of their eyes. Honestly though, it doesn't bother me in the least. This is the first time I've felt anything close to sexy in a million years.
I wish Mulder were here to see me like this. God, if Krycek's being rude, Mulder would be downright ridiculous. I can almost imagine the marinara sauce dripping down his chin like drool. I giggle a little at the image and Krycek looks up at my face finally.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing I…I was just…nothing."
Okay, this is not good. I feel guilty for thinking about Mulder when I'm sitting here with Krycek and I feel guilty sitting here with Krycek when I'm thinking about Mulder.
God, Mulder. I think he'd be able to live with the sex. I really do. He knows how easy it can be to separate the acts of our bodies from the acts of our minds and hearts. But this, this sitting together for a formal dinner, talking, sharing time, in a way I think this is the thing that would kill him. I wish I could enjoy it despite that fact.
"Did you kill Mulder's father?"
He stares into my eyes, much less startled than I would have expected, and says "No, I didn't."
I nod and feel a tiny bit less guilty. Not like it really matters. Mulder will never believe anything other than what he wants to believe where this is concerned.
"You know you saved my life that night. Remember?"
"I wasn't trying to save your life Krycek. That was just an unfortunate side effect."
He laughs and takes a sip of wine.
"I know. You were trying to save Mulder's life really. And you did. But regardless of your intentions, you DID rescue me. I was grateful for that. Believe it or not."
I want to ask him about Melissa. No I don't. I don't think I could stand to know. No matter what the answer is.
I wonder if this is how Spender is going to end up. Once he's been hung out to dry by Smokey and his henchmen will he become a one armed, triple agent, renegade? I'd love to hear Mulder's take on that.
Okay, that's two strikes. One more unwarranted Mulder thought and this game's gonna be over. You know what the funniest and saddest thing about all of this is though? When you come right down to it, if I ever really developed actual feelings for Krycek, being in a relationship with him would be frighteningly similar to being in a relationship with Mulder. Especially the bad parts. In fact the bad parts would be even worse. I guess he knows that.
"Scully are you all right? You seem a little tense."
"I'm just…I'm kind of wondering what we're doing here Krycek."
He looks down at his plate and shakes his head. I think he looks more sad than I've ever seen him.
"I don't really know Scully."
"I'm sorry. I mean this is really nice but…"
"But you can't stop thinking about him and you know that this isn't really us."
"I just think…"
"You want to go. You're getting anxious."
"Krycek…"
"We'll go after dinner okay? It's only about a 12 or 14 hour drive from here."
"Thanks. Again."
"Just promise me one thing okay?"
"Well, you've gotta tell me what it is first."
"Keep the dress."
*************************
"Fox?"
Diana knocked a little harder on the hotel door, hoping that he hadn't shot himself in the head. As she'd expected, Krycek and Scully were no longer residing at Bub's. They were in Vegas now and she and Mulder were headed there in the morning. She'd managed to convince him that they'd been stupid enough to tell their waitress where they were going and that said waitress had spilled the beans to her. He believed without question.
Such a fool where Scully was concerned. It was actually very sad. He was so desperate and distracted it hadn't even occurred to him that Diana was figuring things out in a rather unlikely and speedy manner. His dementia was working to her advantage in some ways. But in others…
"Fox, are you in there?"
"What?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah yeah."
Don't sound so excited.
He was sitting on the bed, staring at that damn picture. The one with his dick. Pathetic. He turned it over and put it down on the bedside table when she came in. He didn't look up, didn't acknowledge her at all. She sat next to him and nudged his shoulder with her own.
"You okay?"
He shrugged noncommittally and rubbed his fist in his eye. Diana barely managed to suppress a groan. He was crying. Again.
She wondered what the hell it would take. This woman was fucking his enemy for God's sake and he was still getting teary eyed over her. She'd treated him a hundred times better and she didn't think he'd ever shed a tear for her. Even when she'd left. Even when she'd walked out on him. He never cried. In fact until recently, Diana had been convinced that Fox Mulder never, ever cried. She hated Scully for making him cry. She hated him for letting her do that to him. She hated herself for never having had that kind of power over him.
"Fox…why do you need to find them so badly? Why can't you just let her go?"
He stared at the wall in leui of a response.
"Fox…"
"I just have to know Diana. I have to know everything. I just…I can't believe that it's as simple as it seems."
She knew that nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. In this case of course, if all went according to plan, he would never know that. If all went according to plan, Scully wouldn't have anything to show him to convince him that she'd had any considerations at all apart from fucking Krycek.
"You really want to kill him don't you."
"Among other things."
Diana couldn't quite figure how that would affect things just yet. Krycek's death would cause a few glitches but it could end up being for the best. Her orders had been to keep him alive, to bring him back, but she wasn't sure if it was going to be possible.
"Scully and I stayed in this hotel once."
Yeah, we've all stayed at Best Westerns Fox. He fingered the blanket between them and she thought it might be a good opportunity to grab his hand. She reached for it but he pulled it away before she got there, apparently oblivious to the gesture.
"We were investigating this guy who thought that he was possessed. It rained on him everywhere he went. Even inside."
"Wow, that sounds really interesting."
"I thought it was. Scully said that we should call Al Roker and go home."
He laughed at the memory and Diana was forced to look away so that he wouldn't see her rolling her eyes.
"So, what did it turn out to be?"
"Huh? Oh, I don't remember. His midget brother or something…"
"Fox, do you ever wonder…I mean, do you ever ask yourself where you'd be if we had stayed together? If I'd been here working with you on the X-files all this time?"
He looked blankly at her for several minutes. Guess not. Then he looked suddenly stricken.
"Oh my God."
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"That's what…that's why…the last time I…she thought…oh God. What have I done?"
This made little sense to Diana but she could tell it had him drastically upset. She reached out for his shoulder and he stood up and started pacing frantically, running his fingers through his hair.
"Fox, are you al…"
She jumped when he kicked the small metal garbage can clear across the room.
"How could she think…how could I…oh God…"
He ran to the bathroom and she heard the telltale sounds of vomiting. She tried not to follow his example when she got back to her own room.
*************************
Ever heard the expression, all dressed up and no place to go?
No, I'm not talking about our non date. I'm talking about our brand spanking new black burglary clothes, our 200 dollars worth of ammo, our devices and identification and everything else I risked my mucho retarded ass to get my hands on. I'm talking about a five mile hike in the deep dark of night. I'm talking about the adrenaline rush, the chattering nerves, the misery.
I'm talking about the fact that there is NOTHING HERE. The facility, the soldiers, the electrical fence, the rabid dogs, everything that I'd spent time and money preparing for and the goods inside, gone. Gone. Just fucking gone. They must have known we were coming.
"Krycek?"
Oh Jesus. Fucking-A. I am so dead.
"They uh…they must have known…"
I turn to her with my most hapless expression, praying that this woman still has a compassionate bone left in her body. The two of us are standing on a hill, looking down at…well, nothing. A big, gigantic, empty space. Lots and lots of sand. She looks from the vast expanse of nothing over to my face and then back again. Shit. She's fucking armed. Why did I give her that stupid gun?
"It was here Scully. Honestly. I…"
Run Krycek. Run now while you've still got legs.
"I'm sorry Scully."
She's so still. I don't even think she's breathing. Just staring out into the nothing with unblinking eyes and an expressionless line of a mouth.
"Scully…"
"You're…sorry?"
Uh oh.
"It was here Scully. I swear to G.."
"Shuttup. Don't talk. You don't deserve to talk."
Reflexively I put my hand in the general vicinity of my gun.
"So this is the big thing huh? This is it?"
"It was…"
"You snuck into my home, knocked me on the head, dragged me across the fucking country in a goddamn PINTO, deprived me of a good night's sleep for over a week, made me wear that stupid fucking hat, almost gave me a nervous breakdown, and very likely ruined my relationship with Mulder for THIS?"
"Well, it was kind of fun wasn't it?"
She turns on her heel and gapes at me. Oh man, I didn't even notice her eyes. She's deranged.
"You are a sick fuck."
"You like that though, don't you?"
If you ever wanna know how far is too far to push somebody just ask me. I'm the master. I don't even see her coming until she's on me like a flying squirrel with rabies. I swear to God. She FLEW.
She must have put all her force in it because, I'm somewhat embarrassed to say, she knocked me flat on my ass. Before I can react her tiny fists are everywhere, pounding into my chest, my face, her legs kicking at me, limbs flying in every direction. The dust is rising in a cloud around us. And all the while she's screaming like a fucking banshee, calling me names I've never even heard before. Her nails scrape at me, rake over my cheeks and I taste blood in my mouth. She straddles me to get better leverage and gets a really good belt in right to the bridge of my nose.
Goddamn woman, how can something that hurts so bad feel so fucking good? I should really get her off me before she does some serious cosmetic damage to my features. My face is just about the only thing I've got going for me these days. But I can't bring myself to do it.
How can I when this is probably the last chance I'll get to have her riding my fucking lap in those tight black jeans? Instead of pulling away or forcing her away, I find myself pressing upwards, straining to be even closer to her rotating hips and her punching fists.
"Goddamn you Krycek! You stupid fucking lying piece of fucking shit…"
Yadda yadda. I've heard it all before. The lying thing really does hurt this time though. I haven't lied to her. Not even once. And it's been over a week. That's like a record for me or something. She oughtta be impressed.
I push up with my weight and roll over so that I'm pinning her to the ground. She's still scratching at my face so I grab her wrists and slam her hands down. How did I end up back between her legs?
She's panting and writhing under me, trying to get loose so she can beat me up some more, and I milk whatever enjoyment I can out of the moment. Her hair is a wild, knotted, rat's nest and her mouth is pulled back into a tooth baring grimace. The heat of the Southwestern night is causing sweat to break out over her anger flushed cheeks and forehead. Dirt and dust are sticking to her skin and her T-shirt is ripping at the shoulder. Fucking animal. Beautiful, wild, fucking animal.
"I wasn't lying. It was here Scully. I haven't lied to you. Not once."
"Not once huh? Your whole fucking life is a lie you little SHIT!"
I press down harder against her in a restraint/friction combo and she spits in my face. The glob of mucus stings my eye but strangely enough, increases my arousal. I feel her heels pounding at the backs of my knees in a lame attempt to escape but all it's doing is bringing us in closer contact, causing me to almost bounce up and down on her.
"Let me go motherfucker!"
"Not until you calm down Scully. Ripping my face off isn't gonna help this situation any."
"I'm gonna kill you, you cocksucker!"
I feel her trying to slip her leg under mine, perhaps so that she can knee me in the groin, and I press down harder against her with all my weight. We're both sweating now and I can feel her nipples through the damp cotton of our shirts.
"Get off me you goddamn pervert."
I grind against her purposefully this time and she bites her lip. Oh yeah. Who's the pervert Scully? I do it again and I feel her body respond against her will as she shivers and bucks up towards me uncontrollably.
I sneer at her victoriously and she spits in my face again. All the phlegm in the world isn't gonna change the simple fact that I make you hot, Dana Scully. Maybe not as hot as your real lover would make you, but hotter than you wanna be right now.
We stare at each other for a brief, panting moment and all I can think about is the way her lips tasted the other night. She probably wouldn't have that same vodka coated sweetness tonight. Tonight she would probably taste bitter and tangy, more like her cunt. God, it's time to go.
"Scully, we have to get out of here. It's not safe."
"Well then get the fuck OFF ME!"
"I can't unless I'm sure you're gonna be good. Are you gonna be good Scully? Huh?"
"I can't believe you have a fucking hard on now," she says with a smirk and an eye roll.
Well Scully, if not now when?
"You really are a sick fuck."
"This isn't improving your chances."
"Fine Krycek. Whatever. I'll be good. I won't kill you. Yet. Just get the fuck off me."
With a twinge of regret I stand up and pull her with me. Despite the temperature my body feels suddenly cold without hers pressed against it.
We start quickly retracing our steps back to the Pinto and I let her lead the way this time. It's a long hike and I really don't want my back turned to her at this point. Besides, this way I can look at her ass.
End Part Two
Continued in Part Three.
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