TITLE:  World Without End: Book Two (13/?)
AUTHOR:  Rachel Anton
E-MAIL:  RAnton1013@aol.com

xxxxxx

Just keep going.  In retrospect, that seems like a 
pretty stupid thing to say.  There were so many other 
options, things I could have suggested that might 
have prevented us from reaching this point.

For instance, I might have said, "Why don't we start 
with you telling me what the hell is going on?"

Maybe I just didn't wanna know.  Maybe I already knew 
and couldn't bear to hear it.

The signs were all there.  She's been distant and 
peculiar for so long now that I can barely imagine 
her any other way.  She's been disappearing for long 
periods of time with no explanation, quite 
frequently, for at least a month.  Catching her in 
his arms was really just the icing on the cake.

But I still refused to believe it.  When she came to 
me that day, I honestly thought she was being 
sincere, that maybe I was being paranoid and 
insecure.  I thought she wanted to try.  And I have 
been trying.  For the past week, I've been trying my 
damnedest to make things right between us, despite 
the fact that I've been busier than ever planning 
this raid, despite my suspicions and my fears.  She 
seemed to be working with me, even allowed me the 
privilege of making love to her a couple of days ago.  
I thought we were hitting another upswing on this 
fucking amusement park ride from hell we've been on 
for the past five months.  I guess I was wrong.

Sometimes I wonder if she thinks I'm the stupidest 
person who ever lived.  Did she think I wouldn't 
figure it out?  I used to be a freaking spy for God's 
sake.

No.  After tonight, I guess it's safe to say that she 
wants me to find out, but she doesn't have the balls 
to say it to my face.  That's what makes me saddest 
of all.  I expected so much more from her.  I thought 
she was brave.

I'm not a real stickler for rules.  I haven't abided 
by them, and I haven't really set too many of them.  
As far as I'm concerned, most of them are 
hypocritical and unimaginative, more of a crutch for 
people who can't distinguish between right and wrong 
for themselves than any kind of safeguard.  Not that 
I'm the most reliable source on this subject...

In any case, the point is that Dana and I don't have 
too many rules in our relationship.  Most of our 
expectations for each other have gone unspoken.  In 
all the time we've been together, I've only had one
real demand, one simple courtesy that I've asked of 
her.

No, it's not fidelity, although I'm starting to think 
it might have been a good idea to negotiate that 
right up front rather than blindly expect it from 
her.

The rule is that the night before any kind of battle, 
raid or other potentially life-threatening situation, 
both of us leave work early, eat dinner, talk, and go 
to bed.  Together.

I told her that I needed this very early on, before 
we even lived together, and she's always been very 
accommodating.  So much so that I came to believe 
that she needed it herself.

Another mistaken assumption.

I'm leaving tomorrow.  The trucks are all packed up, 
the plan is set, watches synchronized and all that 
crap.  I conducted our last minute strategy session 
in a frantic rush, skipping over some important 
points in my haste to get back here and cook what may 
well have been my last meal with Dana.  May have been 
if she had shown up.

The first few hours weren't too bad.  I was a bit 
early, it turned out, and I spent the extra time 
preparing our food to perfection.  By the time I was 
done with dinner, she was a little late but I figured 
if I kept it in the oven, it'd still be warm when she 
got home.

It's burnt now.  Burnt to a pathetic, blackened mess.  
Been that way for about six hours.  I don't even 
remember what it was anymore.

I have to say, those six hours were the longest of my 
life.  I went through several stages when I realized 
she wasn't coming home.  First, denial.  Yep, any 
minute she was gonna walk through that door, all 
apologies and reasonable, believable explanations.  
That faded into anger at about nine or ten o'clock.  
How dare she blow me off like this?  Could she have 
forgotten?  What kind of bitch...

After a few hours of infuriated pacing and chair 
kicking, I started to get worried.  What if something 
had happened to her?  Surely she couldn't have 
forgotten.  Surely she couldn't be doing this to me 
on purpose.  Things have been strained between us, to 
say the least, but still, she'd never go out of her 
way to hurt me.  She must have been injured or in 
some kind of trouble.

That's when I decided to look for her.

I hadn't wanted it to come to that.  I suppose denial 
still had a pretty strong hold and a huge part of me 
was still waiting for her to come back on her own.  
But I couldn't just sit here if she needed my help.

The first place I went was, of course, the most 
obvious.  If I'd just gone there in the first place, 
at five or six when she was supposed to come home, 
maybe things would be different.  Maybe I'd have been 
able to leave here in my happy, deluded little world.

But I didn't make it to the lab until about one 
o'clock in the morning.  I guess it's the stalker in 
me that wanted to peek through the window rather than 
knocking at the door.  The stalker and the realist, 
the one who knew from the start what was really 
happening.

She was there, all right.  Looking post-orgasmically 
happy and disheveled and for a moment I was actually 
relieved.  She was okay.  Thank God she was okay.

And then I saw him with the same nauseating look, 
leaning over her.  She jumped into his arms and I 
watched them hugging like a couple of lovesick teen-
agers for as long as I could stand it.  Maybe I was 
waiting for them to stop.  But they didn't stop.  
They just kept hugging and laughing and jumping
the fuck up and down and I finally gave up.  
Completely.

And now, almost two full hours later, I sit at what 
used to be our kitchen table, still waiting for her 
to come home.  But this time it is with acceptance.

Her bags are packed and piled in the hall outside the 
door.  If she doesn't make it back before I leave, 
there will be no need for a gory scene.  She'll see 
them and understand that I'm finally giving her what 
she wants.  For the first time ever, I believe.

Perhaps I'm being too kind, letting her off too easy.  
Maybe I'd be better off pretending I don't know and 
just carrying on, making it as difficult as possible 
for her to be with her real love.  But sadly, I don't 
have that in me.  I couldn't bear the torture myself.

No, the time has come.  There is nothing left to say, 
no pain left for us to inflict on each other.  I only 
hope that losing her doesn't destroy me.

xxxxxx

In the end, the answer was so simple it was difficult 
to comprehend the amount of time spent finding it.  
How could I have overlooked something so basic, so 
fundamentally obvious, for so very long?  I suppose I 
knew that the solution was in Mulder's blood but who 
would have guessed that it would be the blood itself?  

It doesn't matter anymore.  We found it.  A way to 
convert without the conversion.  The right mixture, 
the right temperature, the right everything.  That's 
all that counts.

There will have to be more tests of course.  We'll 
need to inject the serum into someone infected with 
the cancer first.  A human guinea pig.  I've already 
resigned myself to that fate because I am almost 
completely certain it will work

I should have told Alex I was going to be late.  It 
must be at least four in the morning.  The moon is 
gone already and the night is at its darkest point.  
The only sound on campus is that of my feet making 
contact with the frosty grass as I make my way home.  
He must be worried.

It doesn't matter.  Once I tell him where I've been, 
what I've done tonight, he'll forget.  He'll be 
happy.  Euphoric even.  And best of all, my discovery 
will surely be enough to stop him from going on this 
fool's mission tomorrow.   It will have to be.  I'm 
not letting him go without making love to me 
properly, and there's just not enough time left.  
He's supposed to leave in two hours.

When I get into the dorm, I feel like running up and 
down the halls, pounding on every door and waking the 
world to tell them all that I did it.  I finally did 
it.  But there's only one door that's really 
important and I find myself bolting up the stairs, 
taking two at a time, to reach the fourth floor and 
my home.

In my excitement and haste, I almost trip over the 
pile of garbage bags sitting in front of our door.  
Maybe Alex has been doing some cleaning.  It looks 
like a lot of stuff to be throwing away though.

I step over them, making a mental note to go through 
them tomorrow and make sure he's not tossing anything 
we actually need, and unlock the door.

All the lights are out and the room feels very empty 
when I step inside.  He must have gone to sleep 
already.  I close and lock the door behind me and 
start making my way through the dark.  When I reach 
the bedroom door, I hear a noise, something like a 
sigh, coming from the kitchen area.  I spin around, 
startled.

"Alex?"

Silence.  Deafening, eerie silence.

I grope around in the dark, searching simultaneously  
for a lightswitch and the small pistol I keep 
strapped to my boot.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

I clutch the weapon in my right hand and hit the 
switch with my left.  The small, dim bulb of the 
kitchen lamp flickers on and, relieved, I let out a 
gust of air.  It is Alex.

"Why didn't you answer me?"  I ask.  He shrugs, not 
averting his gaze from the table top.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark?"  I try again, 
putting my gun back where it belongs.  Still no 
answer.

"Alex, you're not gonna believe what happened 
tonight," I blurt out, simply bursting with the need 
to share the good news with him.  His eyes dart up 
and he sniffs, sneers.  There is something dangerous 
in those eyes tonight.

"I'm...I'm sorry I'm so late, Alex but there's a 
reason.  A very good reason."

"Really," he says but it's not a question.  It's that 
same barren tone he used with me in his office the 
other day.

"Yes, really.  I think that...I think we found it 
Alex."

"It?"

I can't stop myself from running over to him and 
wrapping my arms around his shoulders.  He might look 
irritated now, but when he understands...

"Alex, this is so exciting!"

I lean around and kiss him on the corner of the 
mouth, wanting to just fall into his lap and be 
surrounded by him.  But his body goes tense, hard and 
cold, and he flinches.

"What did you find, Dana?"

"Alex, we're saved.  I'm saved," I whisper into his 
ear, and he jerks away.

"What are you talking about?"

"I found it."

I move so that I'm kneeling on the floor in front of 
him, so that I can see his face when he understands.

"A cure, Alex.  I found a cure."

His eyes get wide and I laugh, just laugh.  It feels 
so real saying it out loud like that.

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty much absolutely."

I lean in to kiss him full on the mouth, but this 
time he stands up and walks away from me completely, 
leaving me sitting on the floor alone.  He turns his 
back on me and rests his hands on the ledge of the 
sink.  More silence.

"Alex, aren't you going to say anything?"

I'm not going to die, Alex.  Don't you care?

Of course, he doesn't know how close I came.  Still, 
I thought he would be ecstatic.  He's wanted this as 
badly as I have for some time.

"I'm glad.  I know you've been working for awhile on 
this.  Congratulations."

"Glad?  You're glad?  Congratulations?  Alex, don't 
you understand what this means?  Don't you see how 
much this will help us?"

"Yes, I know what it means.  You did a very good job.  
It won't go unappreciated."

I don't even know how to respond to that.  Not just 
the words, but the tone.  Even that day in his 
office, I don't think he was this cold to me.  This 
couldn't be just because I was late.  Not now that he 
knows why.

I stand up and move behind him, wrapping my arms 
around his waist and snuggling my head into the crook 
of his shoulder.

"Alex, what's wrong?  Aren't you happy about this?"

I feel his chest rise and fall heavily as he sighs.

"I've gotta go soon.  I need to get ready."

"Go?  Alex...you're not still going are you?"

"Yes."

"But Alex, we have what we need from them.  You don't 
have to go anymore.  That's what I'm trying to tell 
you.  Why don't you just stay here with me?"

I reach my hand through the buttons on the front of 
his shirt and caress his stomach lightly.  I feel the 
muscles twitch under me, and then I feel him shudder 
and violently jerk away.

"That's not all we need, Dana.  Not all I need."

He walks back to the table, and I almost fall against 
the counter.

"Why are you going, Alex?"

"The weapons.  I told you."

No.  I refuse to believe that he would risk so much 
for so very little.  That's not what's driving him 
right now.  I have an idea what his motivation might 
really be, and it frightens me terribly.

"Why are you *really* going, Alex?"

"The weapons.  And because we've been screwed over 
one too many times."

"So you're going for vengeance?  You're risking your 
life and the lives of all those people to prove that 
nobody fucks with Alex Krycek?"

He looks up at the ceiling and laughs shortly through 
his nose.

"Something like that..."

"Alex, you can't..."

His head drops down, and his eyes meet mine from 
across the room.  He's so far away now, and he looks 
angry.  Very, very angry.

"What are you doing here, Dana?"

"What am I...what do you mean, Alex?  What's the 
matter with you?"

"Did you miss something on your way in here, Dana?  
Maybe I didn't make it clear enough."

"Alex," I breathe, growing more and more alarmed and 
confused as his voice raises.

"Do you want me to write it out on a piece of paper 
for you?"  he roars.  His eyes squeeze shut, and he
inhales sharply.  His rage is frightening, but at 
least he's showing me something.  It's better than 
the cold shoulder.

"No, Alex, I want you to talk to me.  I want you to 
tell me what's wrong."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you need to start."

"Well, we don't have much time, so I'd better just 
stick to tonight."

Tonight?  Is that what this is?  Could he possibly be 
this angry because I'm late?  I realized he might be 
worried or a little irritated, but I figured once I 
told him why, he'd realize how important it was.  Of 
course I also thought it would stop him from going 
and that missing this night together wouldn't be such 
a huge issue.

"Alex, I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I wasn't here tonight.  
I really am.  I thought that when I told you...I just 
thought we'd have more time."

"Well, that's where you're wrong, Dana.  We don't 
have any more time."

His voice is cold and flat again, and it is with a 
terrifying finality that he reiterates, "None."

My heart drops into my stomach at the sound of that 
word because all at once I realize that he is not 
just referring to our time tonight.  There's 
something much bigger happening here, and it's 
finally starting to sink in through the delirium of 
my discovery.

"Alex, why didn't you come down to the lab if you 
were waiting for me?"

"I didn't come at first because I wanted to see how 
long it would take you to come back on your own."

A test?  Is that what this was?  What the hell kind 
of game is he playing with me here?

"But when I started to hear the birds singing I got a 
little worried.  So I did come down to the lab, 
Dana."

"You did?  I didn't see you there."

"No, I'm sure you didn't.  You seemed quite 
distracted.  Quite happily distracted."

"Yes, Alex.  Because I was working."

He winces and spits, "Working on what exactly, Dana?  
Is the cure for cancer in Mulder's pants?"

I can't stop my jaw from dropping to the floor at 
that one.  I think I'd slap him if we didn't have a 
table between us.

"Just what am I being accused of here?"  I manage to 
choke out through my anger and confusion.

"All I know is what I saw.  Again."

"And what exactly was that?"

"You and...him.  Pawing each other at  two o'clock in 
the morning, seven hours after you were supposed to 
come home and be with me."

"Alex, that was...it was nothing.  It was a hug.  We 
were hugging because we were happy about finding a 
cure.  I can't...I can't even believe I'm having this 
conversation.  You're being ridiculous.  Again."

He just stares back at me with those unblinking eyes 
and that gaping mouth, the crease above his nose 
deeper than ever.  Disgust.  That's what that look 
is.  Disbelief and disgust.

"I'm going to sleep, Alex."

I start to walk, on shaking legs, towards the 
bedroom.  He sighs heavily behind me.

"I think you're still missing the point here."

"Alex, where's Ret?"  I ask, suddenly realizing why 
the place seemed so empty when I came home.  No 
slobbering mass of dog jumping on top of me when I 
walked through the door.

"He's in Bryan's room."

"What the hell for?"

"Because, he and his owner don't live here anymore."

I spin back around to face him again and goddamn him, 
he actually looks smug.  His arms are crossed over 
his chest, and he's fucking smirking at me.

"What are you doing, Alex?"  I ask quietly, fear 
clamping my chest in a vice-grip.

"I'm sorry.  I thought it was obvious by now.  I'm 
throwing you out...Scully."

"You're...what?  You're not...Alex, no."

"Your stuff is outside already.  Feel free to take 
any room you'd like just as long as it's not in this 
building.  You can keep your job and everything else.  
Just stay out of my way."

"I can't believe this.  I can't believe you.  I can't 
believe you're doing this!"

And doing it so damn easily.  Negotiating it like a 
business arrangement or something.  Can't he see that 
he's killing me all over again?  Isn't this killing 
him?  I want to shake him, to smack him back into the 
Alex I know, but I'm afraid there's nothing left of 
him anymore.

"You're gonna just...just give up on us?  On me?  
Because you misinterpreted a perfectly innocent hug?"

"It's not just the hug, Dana.  Do you remember what 
you told me that night in the pool?"

"Which night?  What are you talking about?"

God, this is so completely surreal.  I feel like the 
universe is disintegrating under my feet.  What in 
the world is happening?

"You said that if you weren't happy, if I knew that 
you weren't, that I had your permission to throw you 
out.  So, here we are."

"I never said that I was unhappy!  I never said that!  
Never..."

I feel tears of panic and horror burning the back of 
my throat, trailing down my cheeks, and I wipe them 
away frantically.  Why should I let him see me break 
when he couldn't care less?

"You don't have to say it.  Don't you think that I 
can see it, living with you every day?  Dana, the 
only two times I've seen you happy in the past five 
months have been the two times I saw you in his 
arms."

Bastard.  Goddamn you, you bastard.  Why are you 
doing this to me?

"I can't believe this.  I can't BELIEVE it!  You 
wanna know something, Alex?  I wish that Mulder and I 
were fucking so that I'd actually deserve this kind 
of treatment.  But we're NOT!  We're not doing 
ANYTHING!"

Oh God, I'm really losing it.  I've gotta get out of 
here before I start hyperventilating.

Deep breath.  Don't let him see you hysterical.

"It doesn't matter if you are or not," he says, quiet 
and calm.  Fuck you, Alex Krycek.  Fuck you.

"No, obviously it doesn't."

"The point is that whether you can admit it to me or 
yourself or anyone else, you want to be with him.  
You're only happy when you're with him."

The sun is coming up.  He has to leave on his stupid, 
pathetic little adventure and I can't be here 
anymore.  I just can't.

"You're going to be unreasonable no matter what I 
say, Alex.  There's no point in even talking about 
this anymore."

We stare each other down, and I wait for a long 
moment, the longest in my life, for him to put an end 
to this.  But he doesn't, and the knife cuts a little 
deeper.

I can't even wipe the tears away anymore because 
they're coming too fast.

"Have a nice trip," I tell him, walking quickly past 
him and to the door, taking pains not to let any part 
of me touch any part of him.  I swear the doorknob 
burns like fire when I put my hand around it.

"Have a nice life," I whisper, and my voice cracks 
irreparably.

"I just can't live like this anymore, Dana.  I'm not 
trying to hurt you," he says softly, and it's just 
the final twist.

"Too late."

I pull open the door and step through, closing it 
quickly behind me so that I don't have to look at his 
blank fucking face anymore.  This time I do trip over 
the stupid pile of garbage bags in the hall, and it 
finally hits me that this is really my stuff.  All of 
it.

I let myself collapse into the junk, let myself 
really cry now because I know he's not going to open 
that door until he's sure that I'm gone.  I find 
myself leaning against the door, whimpering, fucking 
whimpering like a whipped puppy, touching the wood, 
wishing I could go back to the other side.  And then 
I hear him.

Or rather, hear what he's doing.  Breaking glass, 
cracking wood, smashing things.  He's in there 
smashing things, tearing our home to pieces.  I take 
no comfort in the fact that his stoic facade has 
cracked.  In fact somehow, it only deepens the agony.  
And the most miserable thing of all is that even 
though I hate him more than anything right now, I'd 
give the world to go in there and be able to make him 
stop.  To comfort him and make it all better.

But I can't make it better.  And I fear that I never 
will be able to again.

xxxxxx

End Chapter Thirteen
Continued in <a href="wweb214.htm">Chapter 
Fourteen</a>