WICKED GAME
by Mare (MareZX@aol.com)
Chapter 10
Disclaimers in Chapter 1, rated NC-17
Scully cringed, dreading Mulder’s next words, as he studied the TV screen. He watched 
carefully, then picked up the cardboard video box from on top of the TV and read the back.
She wished she could just disappear, sink into the floor; anything to avoid the mortifying scene 
that would inevitably follow. Her heart pounded, her stomach did flip-flops and she realized that 
she was sweating. Still, bad as the upcoming discussion would be, part of her wished Mulder 
would just say something and get it over with. The waiting was just as hellish as anything he 
could possibly say.
Mulder leaned against her desk and watched the tape for another long moment. Finally he said, 
"I haven’t even seen this one yet. How is it?"
A small sound of surprise escaped her. Of all the things he could’ve said, that was about the last 
one she expected. She took a deep breath and composed herself. "Maybe you’d better judge for 
yourself. I suspect we’d have a difference of opinion."
"Mmm." Mulder bent down and picked up the remote, which had ended up on the floor in front 
of the desk, but he didn’t stop the tape. He turned back to her and stared at her with a funny 
look for what felt like a long time. Finally he asked, "Expanding your horizons, Scully?"
"No, it’s more like..." Think, think! If he knows it’s personal, you’re in big trouble... "...a study of 
sorts," she finally said, unable to meet his eyes. "General research."
"Research? About what?" He didn’t say it, but she heard it in his voice anyway: Yeah, suuuure...
"It’s, um... a theory I’m working on. Sort of..." That was so lame. Like he wouldn’t ask about the 
theory now?
The question came right on cue. "Care to share?"
She managed a small smile. "Maybe when I have more conclusive evidence."
"Whatever you say, Scully." Mulder turned the TV cart so that the screen could be seen from 
both desks, then went to sit at his. She saw him scanning the desk surface -- looking for a disk? 
She was suddenly very glad that she didn’t have one. Mulder thinking that this was personal was 
bad enough; how could she cope with it if he thought her video viewing had to do with her 
informant?
She tapped her fingers lightly on the desktop. She had to say something. Was it really better to 
let her partner think it was personal? Probably. Best to keep in on an intellectual level, though. 
She cleared her throat, drawing Mulder’s attention away from the TV screen. "I was thinking, 
Mulder... maybe my research would move faster if you allowed me to pick your brain a little."
His full attention was on her, his eyes dancing, like he was just dying to make a comment. He ran 
his tongue across his lower lip, then said, "Sure, why not?"
Scully took a deep breath. There was just no easy way to get out of the situation, was there? 
Hypothetical, she reminded herself. Keep it on an intellectual level. Nothing personal. "Well... I 
was wondering..." She gestured toward the TV. "Is this what the average man looks for in oral 
stimulation?"
A sly smile spread across Mulder’s face. She could practically read his mind: Taking blow job 
lessons, Scully? She knew he couldn’t resist asking. Controlling the urge to curl up in a little ball 
under her desk, she waited.
But the expected question never came. Instead she heard, "Just what kind of theory is this, 
Scully?"
"Well..." Her mind raced, trying desperately to come up with something that didn’t sound 
completely lame. "If you must know, I’m researching the role of pornography in domestic 
violence; how tapes like this create unrealistic expectations in a relationship." She could’ve done 
better with more time, but that wasn’t bad for such short notice. "So tell me, Mulder, is that what 
John Q. Public really wants from his significant other?"
Mulder watched the tape for a long moment. "Sure, Johnny would love that," he finally said. 
"But he’s not likely to get it. His girlfriend Jane Doe probably couldn’t do that. That actress is a 
professional, after all..." He tilted his head slightly and leaned a little closer to the TV. "Not to 
mention uncommonly flexible..."
"I can see that." Scully shifted uncomfortably and unbuttoned her suit jacket. Why was the 
basement suddenly so warm?
Mulder shook his head a bit, stopped the tape, and turned his attention back to her. "Yeah, John 
would really like that, but let’s face it. He’d be happy with just about any oral stimulation he 
could get... unless she bit him or something."
Scully sank a little lower in her chair.
He moved toward the drawer that held the tapes, and she suddenly noticed something on the 
floor. She leaned closer, not sure what it was. Something she’d dropped? Something he had? 
Maybe it fell from the video box? From her angle it looked like a hand lotion sample she’d been 
carrying around. It must’ve fallen out of her bag at some point. She scooped it up into her jacket 
pocket as Mulder returned to the TV with a different tape.
He put the new tape in the VCR. "Jane’s a lot more likely to be able to do..." He held down the 
fast-forward button on the remote for a few minutes, stopping it at yet another oral sex scene. 
"...this. It’s a lot simpler. See? And John, being the average kind of guy he is, would gladly settle 
for that. But his friend Joe Schmo the wife-beater is another story."
Scully almost regretted lying to Mulder. He was in teacher mode now, getting into the 
discussion. He seemed even more interested in disseminating information than in watching the 
visual aides he was providing for her. Part of her was fascinated, but another part wished he’d 
just shut up and let her watch in peace.
"Joe watches these videos, then goes to bed with his wife Mary Sue. He’s always rough with her, 
but he really beats her up if she doesn’t perform up to the expectations the tapes set for him."
Scully couldn’t help but smile. Mulder would’ve made a great teacher; undoubtedly the favorite 
of every student. "So what you’re saying is that the videos simply enhance the sexual experience 
for the average man, only engendering violent behavior in those already inclined toward it?"
Mulder winked at her. "Gold star for you, Scully! Guess that wraps up your research, huh?"
The action on the screen had progressed to standard intercourse now. Two days of watching the 
videos was starting to take its toll -- she could definitely use some of that herself. She squirmed a 
little in her chair, the familiar ache making her uncomfortable. It was time to gracefully remove 
herself from the discussion. "That’s only a small part of the theory, Mulder, but I very much 
appreciate your help. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment."
She gathered up her things and had her hand on the doorknob when Mulder’s voice stopped her. 
"Hey, Scully?"
Digging in her pocket in search of her car keys, she turned. "Yes, Mulder?"
"I just wanted to apologize about the other night. I’m really sorry about the phone call."
"Oh, that’s --" She stopped as her hand fell on the small plastic bag in her jacket pocket. It 
couldn’t be hand lotion; there was something hard in the bag. She deftly transferred it from her 
pocket to her handbag for a better look.
She examined the item through the clear plastic of the unopened bag. It was a metal circle, 
maybe half an inch wide, approximately two inches in diameter, and adjustable. It could almost 
be a little handcuff, but there was only one.
"Something wrong, Scully?" Mulder asked.
She looked up, startled. "What? Oh, no, everything’s fine." Was the little handcuff something of 
Mulder’s? Something he’d miss? Obviously he hadn’t used it... She could always place it right 
back where she found it tomorrow, when he wasn’t looking. Stuffing the item down into the 
deep recesses of her bag, she drew out her keys. "Couldn’t find my keys. You were saying?"
"I was just saying I’m sorry about bothering you a few nights ago. I hope I didn’t interrupt 
anything."
From the look on his face, Mulder obviously knew exactly what he’d interrupted. Was this a new 
tactic in the boyfriend information search? Mulder seemed to expect a reaction, but she wasn’t 
sure what he was looking for. Her best course of action was to not give him a reaction. "No need 
to apologize. You didn’t bother me at all," she said, opening the door part way, eager to get out 
of there.
"Okay, if you’re sure..."
"I’m sure. See you tomorrow, Mulder."
It wasn’t until she was halfway home that she realized what the little handcuff really was.
****************************
"Alex?"
Scully stood just inside the door of her apartment, dismayed at not finding her business partner 
there. Just like him to go out when she wanted him around. She closed the door and hung up her 
coat, slowly becoming aware of the sound of running water.
Shedding her shoes and suit jacket, she padded toward the bathroom. The sound was much 
clearer now; the shower was running. Mid-afternoon was sort of a strange time for a shower, but 
it might actually make things easier. A plan began to form in her mind.
Skirt, blouse, and pantyhose were left on the bed, and Scully stole into the bathroom in only her 
underwear. The hot, steamy air enveloped her and she could see him now, silhouetted behind the 
shower curtain. He stood motionless, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing.
No matter. Bra and panties landed on the floor and she gently pulled back the shower curtain. 
"Boo!"
Krycek didn’t move. He just stood there, arm braced against the wall, head resting on that arm, 
letting the hot water beat down on his shoulders. He didn’t even look up when he heard her, but 
after a moment, he did answer. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here." She ran a finger down his back. "What are you doing in here?"
"Steaming my sinuses. Close that curtain, will ya?"
He sure sounded like he needed the steambath. She stepped into the shower behind him and 
closed the curtain again. "Maybe I can take your mind off that," she purred, reaching around and 
gently caressing his penis.
He sighed softly and arched into her touch. "Came home just for this?"
"No... I’ve been doing some research."
"Okay, I’ll bite. What kind of research?"
She started stroking with both hands now. "What do you think?"
He sighed again. "I hope this isn’t a request, because I really don’t feel up to it right now."
"That’s not what your body says." She had the hard evidence right in her hands. His obvious 
arousal only heightened her own, and it fleetingly crossed her mind that her accusation of a few 
nights before might not have been entirely correct.
Krycek coughed. "That part of my body is a pathological liar."
Scully laughed lightly. "I think this may be the only part of you I can count on to tell the truth. 
Actions speak louder, after all." She let her fingers roam over spots she knew were especially 
sensitive. "Go ahead, try to say no."
A small groan escaped him. "Mmmyeah, right, like I can when you do that..."
"See what I mean?" She maneuvered herself around him, squeezing between him and the wall, 
and resumed stroking. "Besides, you’re not allowed to."
He shifted position, one hand now braced against the wall next to her head, the other gliding 
down her body. "Even on my deathbed, I wouldn’t be allowed to say no?"
"You’re hardly on your deathbed..." Her breath caught in her throat as his hand settled between 
her legs. A few light strokes in just the right place melted her insides and turned her legs to jelly, 
and she had to hook one arm around his neck to keep herself upright. "...and you’re obviously 
capable of fulfilling a request," she finished breathlessly. "So don’t argue and just do it, okay?"
That drew a soft laugh from him. "What’s the magic word?"
She let out a long, low moan as his finger slid inside her. "Nooooooowwwww...."
"Nope, wrong word..."
How did he manage to always get the upper hand in these situations? She reached down and 
swirled her palm over the head of his penis. "Now," she repeated.
His knees buckled this time. "Guess it is the right word," he gasped.
His hand moved down her leg now, prodding at the knee. Getting the idea, she lifted that leg 
and pressed it close against his hip, opening herself to him.
He stepped closer to her, and she could feel his rigid organ trapped between them. "Here?" he 
asked.
"Here," she breathed. "Now."
"You didn’t want to in the kitchen..."
She took his erection in hand and guided it between her legs. "Here. Now."
The words were barely out when she felt him push inside her, filling her. He held for a moment, 
then started moving, settling into a slow, steady rhythm. "What research?" he asked again.
Scully took a few deep breaths, finding her voice again. "Videos," she breathed. "Mulder’s 
videos."
"Learn anything?"
Feeling him inside was so good, but she knew she wasn’t going to come that way. His hands 
were occupied; one braced against the wall, one holding her leg. She had one arm clasped around 
him, but the other... Her free hand found its way down and she started stroking herself. "I... 
know..." she gasped.
"Know what?"
"Fantasy. Second fantasy."
He gave a harder thrust. "Well?"
"Two... women... maybe more... oh, God, Alex, harder..."
His rhythm increased slightly. "Versions?" he panted.
"With... a man... or without. You... you men... pigs..."
His rhythm slowed again. "Want me to stop?"
"Don’t you dare!" She stroked herself faster. "Said it yourself..."
Krycek increased his tempo again. "I did. So, which... which tape?"
Back in the office, she thought she knew which one -- the box was well worn around the corners 
and the tape seemed grainy, maybe from overuse. But the current activity drove the title from her 
brain. The only thing her mind registered was how unbelievably good her lower body felt; how 
much better it was going to feel any minute... "‘Sub... Suburban Dykes’?" It was the only thing 
that floated into her brain; she didn’t know whether or not it was correct.
He slammed into her harder and faster now, nipping in the bud a nascent thought about their 
own tapes. "Know?" he panted. "Or guess?"
She bit back a cry at a particularly hard thrust. She almost couldn’t stand it when it was like this, 
she was always sore afterward, but while it was happening she couldn’t get enough. It might 
have scared her that she thought nothing of leaving work in the middle of the day just for this... 
if it didn’t feel so damn good. "Guess," she breathed. "Educated guess."
His only response was a groan as he came.
With a moan of frustration, she tried to stroke faster, but her hand met resistance. Krycek was no 
longer holding her leg up, and his hand now drifted to where their bodies were still joined. She 
had no problem letting him take over; he seemed to know better how to make her come than she 
herself did, and she could feel the results of his effort almost immediately. Her orgasm was 
building quickly, it wouldn’t be long now...
"Educated guess," he said, still breathing hard. "I always knew you were a first-rate agent. 
You’re good at putting all the evidence together."
"So it... it is... that one?" Another minute, just one more minute...
"Mm-hmm. One of ol’ Spooky’s favorites. If I were a porn watcher, it would probably be on my 
‘guilty pleasures’ list too."
Finally she crashed over the edge, clinging to him and crying out against his shoulder as the 
spasms of her climax swept through her. They remained in that position, spent, for a few minutes, 
until Krycek abruptly backed away from her. "Congratulations. You probably just got my cold."
Scully leaned against the wall and reached over to turn the water off. If a cold was the price for 
sex like that, she’d gladly pay. "We should save some hot water for the neighbors."
He nodded and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. His breathing was still labored, and he made no 
move to get out of the shower.
"Why that tape?" She couldn’t do anything about the cold, but she could keep his mind 
occupied.
He leaned against the wall, resting his head on his arm again. "It was hot."
"Pig," Scully muttered.
He shrugged. "Sometimes something hits you in ways you don’t expect. You saw the tapes; 
damn near everything under the sun on ’em. Don’t tell me there wasn’t something a little out 
there that got to you."
All of it had gotten to her, a little at a time. But Mulder’s tapes didn’t hit her the same way 
Krycek’s tapes had. "I do know what you mean about the difference between amateur and 
professional tapes now," she said. "I like the ones you made better."
"Mm-hmm."
She was almost expecting something along the lines of "told you so," and it seemed a little 
strange that she didn’t get it. He had to be feeling under the weather to not pounce on that. 
Maybe the time was right for another admission. It was sort of unfair not to tell him, and she 
could probably get away with it now without getting too much grief. Scully cleared her throat 
and said tentatively, "Alex, about the other night... what I said..."
"Forget it," he mumbled.
Definitely not a Krycekian reaction. How very odd. "All I wanted to say is --"
"Drop it, please?" His voice was still low, and he didn’t look at her.
She took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that... I may have exaggerated a bit when I said 
that."
She could barely hear his response. "Just a bit."
"I never should have said it." She stopped short of saying she was sorry. She did believe that his 
head games played an integral part in most of the deal encounters so far, but he’d just proven 
that, if nothing else, her accusation was badly phrased. Probably badly timed too -- the aftermath 
of the blow job disaster was hardly the time for the subject to be brought up.
He cleared his throat and coughed. "You were hurt," he said softly. "You lashed out. It happens. 
Now just forget it, okay?"
Under normal circumstances, Krycek would gloat unmercifully if she admitted she was wrong 
about something. It was very strange to see him so subdued. She ran a hand down his left arm, 
marveling again at its construction. She couldn’t even tell where flesh ended and synthetic 
material began. "You really don’t feel good, do you?"
He flinched away from her touch. "Just a cold. No big deal."
"Are you sure?" His skin looked flushed. Was that from the hot water, or a fever?
"It’s not life-threatening. Chill, will you?"
The tinge of annoyance in his voice held her back from touching him again. "Then do us both a 
favor," she said. "Dry off, get dressed, and go lie down somewhere."
Krycek reached for a towel and slowly shook his head. "Can’t. Gotta work."
"Can’t it wait?" If he pushed himself, he’d be dragging around the apartment looking miserable 
for longer than he otherwise would. Which meant dragging out the deal...
He dried off quickly, then dropped the towel on the floor. "Nope," he mumbled. "Can’t wait."
After Scully dried her hair and cleaned up the bathroom, she expected to find Krycek in the 
living room, working on his computer. He was there, all right, but the laptop was on the floor 
next to the sofa. Krycek was stretched out, asleep.
*************************
Scully drummed her fingers on the car door and sighed. Her day had started badly enough; the 
last thing she needed was a stakeout. Especially this particular stakeout.
Overall, the two weeks since her mother’s visit had passed rather pleasantly. Her mother had 
made no secret of the fact that she liked Krycek very much and she was happy to see her little 
girl in a healthy relationship with such a charming man. The words disturbed Scully and part of 
her wanted to set the record straight regarding the true nature of their relationship, but it was 
probably better not to burst her mom’s happy little bubble. Let her think what she wanted. Too 
much baggage -- baggage neither Scully woman wanted to disturb -- went with the truth.
She managed to avoid catching Krycek’s cold, which he recovered from without incident. He 
was more or less his old self again within a week. She thought she detected an effort on his part 
to be less manipulative, which made her think that there were reasons other than illness for his 
reluctance to discuss her accusation. She could’ve been wrong -- the changes were subtle -- but 
she didn’t think so. It was possible that he’d thought about it and come to the conclusion that 
she had a point. Not likely, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of extreme possibility. Of course, 
she’d also thought about it, and realized that maybe he had a point too.
Scully held off on any deal activity while Krycek was under the weather, but once he was feeling 
better, they spent a very informative night exploring the difference between amateur and 
professional porn. Naturally he used one of their tapes, along with a tape she assumed was a 
rental, to illustrate his points, and Scully surprised herself and him with her reaction. She didn’t 
think she’d ever be able to look at her coffee table the same way again.
But this day had the makings of a nightmare from the very beginning. She’d awakened at 4:30 
a.m. with a nosebleed. It was a bad one which took half an hour to bring under control. By the 
time she finally did, she was weak, trembling... and just about ready to wake Krycek up to ask 
him about the cure for this wretched disease. She didn’t really believe he knew anything about 
any cure, but a little part of her now wanted desperately to believe. If he could stop the 
nosebleeds, stop the debilitating headaches that always followed, shouldn’t she at least ask?
But she didn’t ask. She crawled back into bed beside her sleeping business partner, careful not to 
touch him so she wouldn’t wake him. He couldn’t possibly have a cure. It would be pointless to 
ask and just get her hopes up. It was terribly unfair of him to dangle the cure in her face, 
knowing he couldn’t deliver. Living with the disease was one thing. Being teased about a cure 
was something else, something cruel. No matter how smoothly her association with Krycek was 
going, she couldn’t help but hate him for that.
She woke feeling achy, weak, and with a pounding headache. She seriously considered calling in 
sick, but got dressed and went in anyway, slogging through the late-March rain. Big mistake, she 
soon realized.
Before she even dried off, Mulder informed her that they had an emergency meeting with 
Skinner. Scully thought the meeting might have something to do with a new case, or the hunt for 
Krycek, but instead she found herself faced with paperwork. Rather, the lack thereof. She spend 
the next half hour trying desperately not to sink into the chair and let it swallow her up while 
Skinner chewed them out about the fact that he’d seen only minimal paperwork from either of 
them for weeks.
Scully knew that was her fault. Mulder and paperwork just didn’t mix, and she’d been doing the 
majority of it for their department for years. She often took it home with her, sometimes working 
in bed. But since January, her nights had been occupied. When faced with a choice between 
boring paperwork and great sex, with information helpful to her job, how many women would 
actually work?
On the other hand, she and Mulder hadn’t been especially busy since Krycek had come into her 
life. How could there be that much work backed up? Still, she couldn’t help but feel guilty.
She couldn’t even look at Mulder once they left Skinner’s office. He didn’t say anything, but she 
knew what he had to be thinking. Blowing off work now that you’re blowing the boyfriend, 
Scully? He’d never say it, but how could he not be thinking it? She just knew that if Mulder said 
anything, it would be difficult not to lash out at him. She hated feeling like that.
That was Krycek’s fault too. And she hated him for it.
So she spent the next hour doing paperwork. Mulder graciously offered to handle some of it, 
especially after admitting that there was still work from January, around the time of her 
diagnosis. Hearing that made her feel a little better, knowing it wasn’t all her -- or Krycek’s -- 
fault, but there was still a lot of work to get through.
She weathered another nosebleed, not as bad as the one earlier, and was just getting into a 
groove with the work when they were called back to Skinner’s office. This time the meeting was 
about the hunt for Krycek. He’d been sighted going into a building, Skinner said. That building 
was to be surveiled. Mulder and Scully would be part of the first shift.
So there she was, sitting in the car, watching the comings and goings around the target building. 
The activity pattern suggested to her that it was a crack house; not anything Krycek would be 
involved with. She hoped he wouldn’t be involved, at least. It wouldn’t make sense, but the 
possibility still existed. After all, she didn’t know what he did all day, where he went, what he 
worked on. He could very well deal drugs for pocket change, and be in the building she 
watched.
She held her breath each time someone came out, half expecting that it would be Krycek. What 
would she do if it was? Her stomach was in knots, and she was unable to eat the fast-food lunch 
Mulder had bought for her. He ate with gusto, further turning her stomach with his generous 
offer of fries. Her head throbbed, and she just sat there wishing she could be anywhere else when 
Mulder’s voice broke through her thoughts.
"Heads up, Scully. Looks like something’s going on in there."
She rubbed the condensation off the car window and looked out. The weather was miserable; 
cold with wind-driven rain. This was the fourth straight day of rain, and it was starting to 
depress her. Everything always seemed worse when it was cold and rainy. "Nobody’s coming 
out, Mulder," she said. "There’s no activity." Why would somebody go out on a day like this 
anyway?
Mulder leaned over her shoulder and peered out. "Looked like something was happening. Sorry." 
He leaned back into the driver’s seat and shook the cardboard fry container. "Sure you don’t 
want any, Scully? Last chance."
"No thanks, Mulder. Enjoy." She stared out at the building’s entrance again. "What on earth 
would Krycek be doing in there?" she wondered aloud.
Mulder slurped his shake. "Consorting with other rats and assorted lowlifes?"
"Think about it, Mulder. That’s obviously a crack house. If Krycek is really involved in a 
conspiracy for global domination, wouldn’t using or dealing street drugs seem pretty trivial?"
Mulder shrugged. "There’s an awful lot of money in drug dealing."
"More than can be made selling government secrets? Besides, last time you saw him, did he look 
to you like he had any money?"
"So he doesn’t flaunt the wealth. You have to admit it’s possible."
It certainly was possible. That was the problem. "I suppose, but it doesn’t really add up." Her cell 
phone rang, and she was happy to direct her attention to that instead. "Scully."
"Agent Scully, it’s Agent Kowalski. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, but I have an 
answer for you about that translation."
Frustrated that all the Russian dictionaries she could find were in Cyrillic, Scully had finally 
taken Krycek’s nickname for her to one of the Bureau’s language specialists. She knew the 
answer might be embarrassing, but any momentary discomfort she felt was worth knowing what 
it meant. Krycek’s constant use of it was starting to drive her nuts. Besides, knowing what he 
was calling her might be helpful in determining what was going on in his head. "Oh, hi. Thanks 
for getting back to me on this. What did you find?"
"A few questions first. How well does this guy know the language?"
She frowned. That had to mean there were multiple translations for the phrase. "As far as I know, 
he’s fluent. I believe it was spoken in the home he grew up in."
"And how well does he know you? You said he’s a friend?"
That sounded even more ominous. "Yes..."
"Friendly enough to be playful?"
Playful? Designed to piss her off, undoubtedly. "I guess so. The word ‘cute’ was used."
"You’ll have to make your own judgment on that. Okay, ‘plamennaya malyishka’ translates 
literally to ‘fiery little one’."
Scully mulled that over. Krycek had called her spirited once; that could’ve been what he meant. 
"Does it have another meaning?"
"The first word could also mean ‘red,’ or ‘red-haired person’."
That sounded much too generic for Krycek. "What’s your guess?"
"My best guess? He’s been calling you the Russian equivalent of something like Little Red."
Scully gritted her teeth. "And grinning like the Cheshire cat each time he says it." The only 
trouble was, her Cheshire cat would never disappear...
"Anything else I can do for you?"
"Not now, thank you." Scully clicked her phone off, silently fuming. Krycek had to know his pet 
name would piss her off. Of course he did; that was why he used the Russian version instead of 
English. If she was in an actual relationship with a man who called her Little Red, it just might be 
cute, but coming from Krycek...
"Language problem, Scully?"
She looked up into Mulder’s curious eyes. "Yes, um... my, uh... my neighbor’s been calling me 
something in another language..."
"Oh? What?"
She smiled sweetly. "Nothing I can’t deal with, Mulder."
"You’re not going to eat this, are you?" Mulder picked up her now cold chicken sandwich and 
dug in. "What language was it?"
"Urdu," she lied smoothly.
A voice crackled over the car’s radio. "No activity for the last fifteen minutes. Looks like it’s 
time to go in."
The next twenty minutes played out like some kind of nightmare. Her heart was in her throat the 
whole time; worried that something would happen to someone on the team, terrified that Krycek 
was there and would be arrested or maybe killed.
Mulder was in the first wave of agents storming the building, but she wasn’t, so she held back, 
trying to remain calm. She stifled a scream when the first shots came, but training took over and 
she managed to perform her role in the raid without a hitch. Nobody watching her would ever 
know that inside, she was a mess.
Once the dust settled, a quick look around convinced her that Krycek wasn’t there, and relief 
flooded through her. She took a few gulps of air, letting the information sink in. Krycek wasn’t 
there. She was safe. He was safe.
Leaving the cleanup to the other agents, Scully wandered slowly down the second-floor hallway 
until the adrenaline rush subsided and her legs gave out. She slumped against the wall, trembling 
uncontrollably.
Oh, God, I can’t do this anymore, she thought. How many more times is this going to happen? 
How many more stakeouts? How many more operations until we do find him? I can’t live like this 
anymore, I just can’t....
"Scully?"
The gentle word and the hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality, and she looked up into 
Mulder’s eyes. "Scully, are you okay? You’re white as a sheet."
She took a few deep breaths and managed to stand upright again. "I’m fine, Mulder," she 
murmured softly.
"Come on, sit down before you fall down." He steered her to the nearby stairwell and sat down 
with her on the top step. "What happened?"
"Nothing; I just... haven’t eaten anything since breakfast."
"Don’t move. I’ll see what I can scrounge up."
Scully collected herself while Mulder was gone. Exhausted now that the adrenaline rush was 
over, she nonetheless felt better. Her stomach was calm now, and her headache was even starting 
to subside. Just amazing, the effects anxiety had on the body.
Mulder rejoined her and offered her a box of animal crackers and a Coke. "Best I could find on 
short notice," he said. "Sorry."
"It’s fine. Thank you." She offered him the crackers, which he declined, but he did take a sip of 
the soda. "So, what happened in there?"
"What happened in there was, we stumbled into a pretty significant drug bust. We should be high 
on the DEA’s Christmas list this year -- turns out they’ve been looking for this guy for the last six 
months."
Scully briefly contemplated a tiger-shaped cracker, then bit its head off. "Who is he?"
"One Eduardo Escobar, mid-level drug dealer and all-around bad dude. I think we have a file on 
him, too. The jurisdictional fighting over this one could go on for months."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Sheldon got winged, but it looks like he’s okay. We took out Escobar’s enforcer, but as far as I 
know, nobody else was hit."
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Did anyone escape?"
"The agents outside detained one guy they pulled off the fire escape..."
Scully held her breath. Krycek?
"... and they said he’s been babbling at them in Spanish since they slapped the cuffs on. Let’s just 
hope he knows something."
She let her breath out slowly. "Sounds like a successful operation."
"Successful, maybe," Mulder said, "but not the way we expected."
"No," she agreed as a sudden idea struck. Sending the investigation in a new direction could help 
take the heat off her. "Honestly, it was pretty unlikely that we’d find Krycek in there. If he 
smuggled anything, it would more likely be diamonds, don’t you think? We know he was in 
Russia; I’ve heard that diamonds are cheap and readily available in Siberia."
"Good thinking, Scully." Mulder was already mulling over her words. "We’ll have to start 
checking jewelers..."
Not bad for a spur-of-the-moment thought. "New York seems the most likely market, Mulder. 
The Diamond District on 47th Street. And... don’t the smoking man and his group meet in New 
York?"
"Sometimes, at least. The old Brit seems to be based there..."
"So there are still avenues to pursue."
Mulder gave her a half smile. "That should keep Skinner from kicking our asses too much over 
this."
"He should kick whoever gave this tip," Scully muttered.
"What’s that, Scully?"
She just smiled and shook her head.
"Ready to go yet? Come on, I’ll drive you home. I’m sure Skinner won’t mind if you file your 
report tomorrow."
Home? Yes, she wanted to go home. She needed to... but not with Mulder. "Take me back to the 
office instead? My car’s there, and I want to pick up some things."
"Sure you’re okay to drive, Scully? You’re still pretty pale."
"I know, I know, white as a ghost. I’m fine, Mulder. Really."
Mulder gave her a long look. "Well," he finally said, "technically, spectral manifestations aren’t 
white..."
Scully sighed. "Let’s go, Mulder."
*************************
One look at Krycek once she got home was enough to bring back everything she’d felt during the 
day. All it took was one simple question to push her over the edge.
There wasn’t even anything provocative about his tone or his question. It was just a friendly 
question. "How was your day?"
She couldn’t help it. She’d been through too much that day, too much that ultimately traced back 
to him. "My life is falling apart all around me," she fumed, "and it’s all your fault!"
Krycek put down his newspaper. "Sorry you feel that way."
She watched him get his jacket and pick up his keys. And she watched him walk out the door 
without another word.
It took a moment for her to realize what she’d just done. "Alex?" she called. "Alex, wait! Come 
back!"
She yanked the door open and called to him again, but he was already gone.
*************************
It took fifteen minutes for Scully to calm down and start to think rationally. Krycek went out 
often; he knew how to take care of himself. He’d be fine... and he’d come back. She was pretty 
sure he’d eventually come back. She couldn’t help but worry about him a little -- she still felt a 
tickle of anxiety -- but she was pretty sure he’d be fine, and he’d come back.
More than three hours later, he did. By that time she had changed clothes, had dinner, and gotten 
through a sizable pile of the paperwork she had to catch up on. The work helped her focus her 
mind, driving out thoughts of that awful day. She was calmer, more relaxed, and headache-free. 
For the first time that day, she was starting to feel like herself.
She heard the door close, and a second later Krycek leaned into the kitchen, where she had her 
work spread out on the table. "Is it safe in here yet?" he asked.
Scully heaved an inward sigh of relief. He was safe. She put down her pen and turned around. 
"Alex, where were you? It’s not safe --"
"Chill out, I’m fine. Nobody saw me. Is it safe here?"
She sighed. "It’s safe now. I’m sorry, Alex, I had no right --"
"Your day sucked. You don’t need to apologize for that. Want to talk about it?"
She silently shook her head. It was still too fresh; she wasn’t ready yet.
"Okay, suit yourself." He ventured further into the kitchen and looked over the forms. "Y’know, 
I wasn’t with the Bureau that long, but I still remember how to do that stuff. Need any help?"
Help would have been lovely. She started to accept, but stopped herself. "Alex, you can’t. You 
know that."
He shrugged. "Just thought I’d ask, but it looks like you have it under control. So c’mon, take a 
break." He turned and headed toward the sofa. "I have a surprise for you..."
Her interest piqued, she followed him into the living room. "What?"
He was settled on the sofa now, feet up on the coffee table next to a videotape and a bag on his 
lap. "The best medicine for a sucky day," he said, now offering her the bag. "Cookies and 
comedy."
Scully just blinked at him. "Cookies? You know I don’t eat --"
"It’s comfort food, Dana," he broke in. "It’s not supposed to be good for you." He shook the bag 
a little. "C’mon, they’re the best -- Mrs. Field’s. You’ll love the milk chocolate chip. And they’re 
still warm."
She eyed the bag for another moment, then gave in, dipping into the bag as she sank onto the 
sofa. What the hell? It wasn’t like she couldn’t afford an extra pound or so.
Krycek was right; the mini-cookies were very good. She quickly devoured the few she’d taken, 
and met his eyes when she went back to the bag for more. "Want to talk about it now?" he asked 
softly.
She hesitated for a second, but then, against her better judgment, the whole story came spilling 
out. Everything, including the headaches and nosebleeds, which she never intended to tell him 
about. By the time she was finished, she was curled up in the corner of the sofa, hugging a 
pillow, and crying; shedding the tears she hadn’t allowed herself all day. She hadn’t intended to 
cry in front of him either, but she just couldn’t help it anymore.
Krycek didn’t interrupt during her story, but once she was done, he did speak. "I’m so sorry," he 
said quietly, gently. "About all of it."
She looked up then, trying in vain to wipe the tears from her face. The look in his eyes was so 
gentle and sympathetic that she knew he meant it. That was probably what prompted her to say 
it; to utter words she never in a million years thought she’d ever say to Alex Krycek. The words 
were more difficult to say than the ones she’d used the night she watched the video he’d made, 
but at that moment, she just needed it so much... "Alex?" she whispered. "Hold me?"
He held out his arms to her, letting her snuggle against his chest. She’d never admit it under any 
other circumstances, but right then, the feel of his strong arms around her made everything seem 
a little bit better. She closed her eyes and felt a few more tears slip down her cheek, but it was 
okay now. Krycek held her and murmured soothing words to her, and now all the dragons were 
slain and everything was right with the world again.
After a while the tears stopped, and she just listened to the beating of his heart. It was a 
strangely comforting sound, and his arms around her felt so good. She felt safe. At any other 
time she might find it troubling that she felt so safe and protected in the arms of... this particular 
person, but not now. Now it just felt... right.
"My life is falling apart because of you," she sighed, "and you’re the only one even trying to 
make me feel better."
"Is it working?"
She smiled slightly and curled closer against him. "You know, I think it is."
"Good." He lightly stroked her hair. "You don’t have to deal with that stuff alone, y’know. Any 
time you need to talk -- about anything at all -- I’m here." He tilted her chin up so that she was 
looking in his eyes. "I mean it, okay?"
Scully nodded. "Okay." She lay her head on his chest again. After a moment, she asked, "Alex, 
were you out today?"
"Mmm-hmm. Picked up a few things at the supermarket, and went to the hardware store. I spent 
this afternoon fixing the garbage disposal." He lightly tapped the top of her head. "You have 
some kind of tipster problem over there in Fibbieland. I was never near that building."
"I know." And she did know. That was the stupid part; deep down she had known all along that 
he wasn’t there. She’d let the suspicions of Mulder and others overshadow her judgment. "I 
know, I just..."
"I know. Spooky can be pretty persuasive."
She smiled a little. Only a partner of Mulder’s could understand, and this ex-partner of his, who 
still enveloped her in his arms, understood well.
Krycek shook the cookie bag. "Still plenty left," he said. "Did you get a peanut butter one yet?"
She took a few more cookies, now mulling over the suggestion she’d given Mulder. "Alex, you 
don’t have any diamonds, do you?"
He brushed off the crumbs she’d dropped on his shirt. "Diamonds? Where’d that come from?"
She told him about her suggestion. "I just want to make sure I’m really sending them off in a 
different direction. I hope I’m not getting you in trouble with that."
He slowly shook his head. "Nope, don’t think so. I wasn’t planning on selling them yet anyway."
Surprised, Scully looked up at him. "So you do have some."
Krycek shifted a bit. "Yeah, I, um... invested in some Siberian diamonds when I was over there. 
And that’s all they are -- an investment. If I were smuggling, I would’ve sold them --"
"Did I say anything about smuggling?" Scully asked quietly. "Are they in this country?"
A slight hesitation, then, "Yes."
"And you were going to sell them?"
"Only if I have to."
If he wasn’t going to sell them, what on earth was he going to do with them? "Just... be careful 
when you do, okay?"
He ruffled her hair. "Of course, plamennaya malyishka."
She smiled. "You don’t have to say it in Russian. Why don’t you just call me Little Red?"
Now he looked surprised. "You’d let me?"
She settled her head on his chest again. "Today, maybe. But I reserve the right to get annoyed 
any other time you use it... Comrade."
Krycek laughed softly and ruffled her hair again. "Agreed." He shook the cookie bag again. 
"Only one left. Want it?"
"It’s all yours." She sighed deeply and relaxed against him. Being with him like this shouldn’t 
feel so comfortable, but it did. He seemed to feel comfortable with it, too. Which of them did 
that say more about? And what exactly did it say? "Alex?"
"Mmm?"
"Is there really a cure?"
Again he hesitated, but the answer came, softly. "Yes. The cure is out there." A pause, then he 
asked, "Are you asking?"
Was she? It would’ve been so easy to, and she was sure, at least at that moment, that he could 
get it, but something held her back. Why? Why couldn’t she just ask? "Not yet," she murmured.
"Okay. When you’re ready, let me know. Are you at least ready for some classic comedy?"
He got up to put the tape in the VCR, breaking the spell. Scully didn’t think she’d be able to 
recapture that feeling of comfort and protection if she resumed her position when he came back, 
but he took her in his arms again and the feeling was there. She allowed herself to fully relax for 
the first time in what felt like a long time, and the Marx Brothers movie was exactly what she 
needed to lift her spirits the rest of the way. By the time the movie was over she felt refreshed, 
restored.
All because of Alex Krycek.
*************************
It wasn’t the note that made her good mood fizzle. It wasn’t the file. It wasn’t even the pictures. 
It was the phone call.
Scully started out the next day in a good mood, thanks to Krycek’s actions. Amazing, that a 
night with Krycek that didn’t involve sex could do that to her. Sure, she felt a little weird about 
the previous evening, but it was easily dismissed. She’d had an abnormally lousy day, and he 
tried to cheer her up. No big deal. And if her silly brain continued to insist that she was right to 
feel weird about it, then it was easy enough to... counteract last night. Get things back on their 
established course. She planned to take that action as soon as she got home.
All this ran through her mind before she got to the office. Once there, she found a file and 
photos on her desk, with a note from Mulder. He was meeting with the DEA people about the 
drug bust; could she do him a little favor while he was gone? The photos were from the park 
ranger in Pennsylvania who’d called about the Bigfoot sighting. Mulder wanted her to look at 
them and offer a medical opinion about the victim’s cause of death.
Being dragged into Mulder’s bogus Bigfoot case annoyed her, but she could handle it. A cursory 
glance at the pictures was enough to convince her that the dead man had been killed by an 
animal, probably a bear. She put them aside without another thought, and settled down to her 
report about the drug bust.
She was just finishing up when the phone rang. Her mind more on the report than the call, she 
picked up the receiver and identified herself.
"Hey, Scully, feeling better today?"
Mulder, actually concerned for her welfare. "Much better, thanks."
"That’s good. Did you get a chance to look at those pictures yet?"
That, of course, was his main concern. If she hadn’t said she was better, would he have cared? 
"It’s not Bigfoot, Mulder. Any first year med student could tell you that man was killed by an 
animal. How’s it going with the DEA?"
"Just great. They haven’t even read the reports yet. We’ve spent the last three hours fighting over 
who gets to prosecute this guy."
Scully sighed. "Typical."
There was a brief silence on the other end, then, "You’re sure it was an animal, Scully? You put 
the pictures up on the projector and took a close look?"
"Mulder, I didn’t need to. It was so obvious --"
"Would you, Scully? Just look. That’s all I ask. Just look and call the ranger back."
She sighed again and drummed her fingers on the desk. Didn’t Mulder learn anything? The last 
time he threw an assignment like this at her, she ended up getting a tattoo... "Mulder, I’m not 
going to continue to feed that man’s delusions. Or yours. I gave you my medical opinion. If you 
don’t trust it, get a second opinion somewhere else, and you call him."
"But Scully --"
"I have to go, Mulder." For the first time in their partnership, she hung up on him.
She sat there for a moment, quietly seething. Mulder knew the case was without merit. He’d 
already told the ranger the perpetrator was a bear. She had no idea why he was continuing with 
it, or why he insisted on dragging her into it.
But she knew he’d continue to insist. Fine, then, she’d look at the damn pictures on the projector. 
She’d make absolutely sure that the killer was an animal. She’d figure out the bear’s height, 
weight, age, and birthdate if that was what it took. Still fuming, she set up the projector and put 
the first photo on it. Then the phone rang again.
It had to be Mulder. She didn’t know why it took him so long to call back, but it had to be him. 
She snatched up the receiver and barked, "Now what, Mulder?"
"Y’know, it’s a good thing I’m not your boss," Krycek said.
Scully took a deep breath. "I’m sorry, Alex, I just..."
"I know, Mulder did something to piss you off. Guess I don’t have to ask how your day’s 
going."
She sat on the edge of her desk and quickly ran through her memory. Krycek had never called 
her at the office before. Why now? "Is that why you called?" she asked.
"Yeah. You were such a wreck yesterday, I wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again. What’d 
he do?"
"He’s dragging me into this stupid Bigfoot thing, and --"
"Isn’t this the thing he said wasn’t an X-File?"
"The very same. I already gave him my opinion, but apparently that’s not good enough anymore," 
she fumed. "You know, I have half a mind to --"
She stopped herself in time. No, she couldn’t. The action she planned to take was best left at 
home. She couldn’t possibly do it at the office. Too dangerous, not to mention an 
uncharacteristic stoop to Krycek’s level. Absolutely not.
"Half a mind to what?" he asked.
She hesitated for a second. No, she couldn’t do it. Bad, bad idea. They’d be caught for sure. 
"Nothing. Nothing I haven’t thought about a thousand times before, but I can’t do it."
"Quit?" Krycek asked. "Sure you could, if you really wanted to."
Boy, was he off the mark. "I can’t quit. Not until we unravel all this information of yours."
"Poor Little Red," he said. "I guess Spooky’s not there... want me to drop by with more 
cookies?"
Drop by? Was he reading her mind or something? She’d already dismissed the idea. But if he 
could make it work... No, she couldn’t let him. "Are you crazy?" she cried. "If anybody caught 
the slightest glimpse of you --"
"But do you want me to?"
She shook her head. "It doesn’t matter whether or not I want you to, you can’t! You could never 
get in here!"
He laughed softly. "You’d be surprised at the places I can get into. And you obviously want me 
to, so I’ll see you in a little while."
Fear sent cold tendrils up her spine... but there was a touch of excitement too. "Alex, no!" she 
cried, but she was talking to a dial tone.
*************************
Stepping into that office was like passing through a time warp. Krycek moved slowly around, 
picking up this thing, touching that one. Every atom in the basement office screamed out that it 
was Mulder’s. That the whole place was overwhelmingly Mulder’s. He’d never been in the 
basement office before, but it still brought back uncomfortable memories of a difficult time in his 
life; a time he preferred to keep buried.
His intention in coming here was to set things straight; get the deal back on track. What had 
happened the previous night was an aberration. He knew that all Scully’s troubles weren’t his 
fault, but something about the way she’d said that had gotten to him. Guilt had reared its ugly 
little head, at least for a short time. About the same time he went for the cookies, he realized that 
the comfort food and sympathetic ear could be considered a mindfuck; thus, part of his overall 
plan. What wasn’t part of the plan was the genuine emotion Scully’s distress brought out in him. 
He was as unprepared for that as he was for the realization that just holding her felt... good.
Much too good.
The fact that it felt so good was weird, and definitely not in the plan. The best way to rectify 
things was with intense, hot, sweaty sex, as quickly as possible. Deal sex. He knew his excuse for 
showing up was weak, but it didn’t matter anymore. He needed sex... and was fairly sure that 
Scully did, too. He should have no problem goading her into initiating, especially if she really 
was annoyed with Mulder.
But he was unprepared for the office’s effect on him. He knew that if he stayed for any length of 
time, he’d be crushed under the weight of the oppressive... Mulderness of the place. If he could 
throw that weird feeling, fucking Scully here would be enormously satisfying; a true "fuck you" 
to Mulder. If, if, if...
Krycek took a deep breath and glanced around the office again. Definitely Mulder’s place. There 
was hardly a hint of Scully here. "How can you stand it here?" he asked.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, look at this place! Everything in here is Mulder’s. I’m surprised you haven’t suffocated 
in here yet. You don’t even have a nameplate on the door."
"I have a desk," she said quietly.
"Aren’t you the lucky one." Obviously that had been a bone of contention in the past. He tossed 
the bag of cookies on her desk and took notice of the photo projected on the screen. "You did his 
scut work anyway, huh?"
She stiffened. "I had to make sure --"
"Looks pretty damn clear to me," he interrupted, studying the picture. "Last time I checked the 
lore, Bigfoot didn’t have fangs and claws." He shut off the projector. "Now, how ’bout a 
cookie?"
Scully sighed and leaned against Mulder’s desk. "Alex, why are you here?"
To lull you into submission with small talk and then fuck you. What’d you think? He shrugged. 
"You wanted me here."
"I want you to go home! What if Mulder or Skinner comes in?"
Krycek locked the door and then made his way toward Scully’s desk, where he picked up the 
note that was on top of the other photos. "Says here Mulder’s meeting with the DEA. And I’m 
pretty sure Skinner would knock first."
"Somebody else could come in. What happens then, when you get caught?"
"Dana, this is the basement. Nobody comes down here."
"How do you know they didn’t already see you? What is so important that you had to take the 
risk to come down here?"
Krycek looked up from the desk and studied her. She was flushed, breathing slightly faster than 
normal. Exasperation, or was she feeling what he felt? Only one way to tell. He hadn’t planned 
to tell the truth, but he could see now it was the best way to go. "I’m here about last night," he 
said.
She stiffened. Looked like another gamble was about to pay off... "Last night was... very nice," 
she stammered.
He fixed his eyes on hers. "Exactly."
It took a moment, but she finally got it. She gasped and turned away, nervously twisting her 
hands together. "I was going to... when I got home..."
Krycek stepped up behind her, enfolding her in his arms. Oh, how different it felt now; worlds 
different than it had felt last night. No comfort now; just need and want. This was what it was 
supposed to feel like. "What were you going to do when you got home?" he breathed into her 
ear.
Scully sighed and relaxed against him. "You know what..."
He pressed closer against her, leaving her no question about the reason for his visit. "Tell me. 
Show me."
"No, I can’t..."
"You can," he assured her. "You know you want to."
"Of course I want to. But not here. Home..."
"Are you sure you can wait?" She obviously felt the same way he did. He was hardly touching 
her, and she was trembling.
"I... I can wait. Can’t... not here..."
"Dana, the door’s locked," he purred. "Nobody’s here, nobody can see us, nobody can hear us. 
You can do whatever you want. Now... tell me what you were going to do later."
"I... I..." She took a big gulp of air. "I... can’t. Not here, Alex, not here..."
"Okay, if that’s the way you want it." He stepped back from her and moved toward the door. 
Sometimes, after all, a strategic retreat was the best move. "I’ll go home and leave you alone 
here. Alone with all Mulder’s stuff. It’ll be just you and Mulder’s scut work. Have fun with 
Bigfoot."
His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice. "Alex, wait."
Krycek turned to see her perched at the side of Mulder’s desk, suit jacket now off. She bit her 
lip, glanced down at the desk, then back at him. She was definitely breathing harder now, and he 
could see the indecision in her eyes. He waited, trying hard not to push her in either direction. If 
she still told him to go, so be it. He’d be ready when she got home. But if she asked him to stay...
With a sudden movement, Scully pushed files toward the center of Mulder’s desk, away from 
the edge, and sat on it. "This has to be quick," she said, reaching toward the button on her pants. 
"I mean it. Really quick."
He was before her in an instant, helping her with the pants. "It was going to be quick whether 
you said that or not," he admitted. "It has to be."
"Has to be," she agreed breathlessly, now working at his jeans.
An instant later he was inside her, and it was just the way he wanted it to be. Fast, hard, and 
intense; a momentary burst of sensory overload. They both came hard and quickly, and when it 
was over, he felt much better. Calmer. The tension that had built up since the previous night had 
eased.
He figured that Scully’s tension had eased too when she laid her head on his shoulder and 
started to giggle. He couldn’t help it; he rested his head on hers and laughed too. He wondered 
idly if she too appreciated the symbolic nature of their chosen locale.
A few moments later she raised her head and looked him in the eyes. "You have to go now," she 
said.
"But I --" The absurdity of what he was about to say hit him, and he couldn’t help but laugh 
again. "But I just came."
Again she bent her head and giggled. "And I did too. But you have to go. Mulder might be back 
soon."
Mulder was already there. His presence in the office was palpable... right up until the moment 
they started having sex. It seemed to have receded somewhat. Krycek grinned, wondering if 
Mulder would’ve liked to watch. "Okay, okay, I’ll go. But first..." He dug in the pocket of his 
jacket, extracted a disk, and slid it into Scully’s bra cup.
She pulled it out and looked at it, then looked up at him. "You planned...?"
"Not planned. Hoped. I wasn’t sure you felt the same way I did. I’m glad we, um... came to an 
agreement." He held his breath, waiting for her tirade to start.
It never came. She took another long look at the disk, then at him. Then she put the disk down, 
got off the desk, and started putting her clothing back together. "So am I," she finally said. "Now 
please go before somebody sees you?"
"If that’s what you want. You might want to spend some time cleaning up after I leave, too."
She raised her eyebrow, and he pointed behind her. Files, pushed around during their frenzied 
movements, were now all over the floor.
Scully laughed and bent to her task as Krycek, whistling, slipped out the door.
*************************
The whole plan was turning into one big mess.
Krycek rubbed at his achy shoulder and sighed. Nothing was going the way he’d planned 
anymore. He couldn’t get a lead on the person he’d been trying to find. He couldn’t get the FBI 
off his back. He suspected that the smoker and his cronies knew he was alive. And he couldn’t 
stop thinking about Dana Scully.
Thinking about Scully was getting to be a big problem. Having sex in the basement office a few 
days before had helped for a while, but dangerous thoughts started creeping in not long after. 
Thinking about fucking Scully was okay; he’d been doing that for years, and it was what had led 
to the whole deal. But thinking about Scully, Dana Scully the person, was... not in the plan.
Also not in the plan was the damn pain in his shoulder. There was always some pain; a constant 
ache that he was usually able to ignore or control with aspirin. But the aspirin wasn’t working this 
time. He’d already taken four pills, and they had no effect whatsoever.
Maybe they just needed more time to work. He pushed the pain out of his mind with other 
thoughts.
His latest lead on the person he wanted to find turned out to be a dead end. There were a few 
other leads he could follow, but any one of them would likely bring him too close to the smoker’s 
group. In fact, they had to know already that someone was sniffing around. They might also 
know who. It had been almost five months since the Tunguska incident. More than time enough 
for them to figure out what happened there and conclude that he wasn’t dead. He knew they’d 
check, too. Old Smokey was amazingly thorough.
Krycek knew he couldn’t hide from the group forever, but he had hoped the group would be 
fighting its own battles by now. Mulder didn’t seem to be taking the information Scully fed him 
seriously. He hadn’t, to Krycek’s knowledge, gone on any fact-finding missions other than the 
one in mid-February. Was he just gathering data, waiting for more pieces? Typical pain-in-the-ass 
Mulder. He’d spent the last four years trying to pick apart the group and the conspiracy, and 
when he was handed the means to do so on a silver platter, he didn’t follow up. It just figured.
Another, sharper stab in his shoulder sent Krycek in search of something to dull the pain. He tore 
through every closet and cabinet in the apartment, looking for something alcoholic. If he couldn’t 
get rid of the pain, he could at least get himself into a state where he didn’t care whether or not it 
hurt. Some part of him knew it was dangerous, but it didn’t matter anymore.
That plan didn’t work, either. There was nothing alcoholic in the apartment. Not even a beer.
That left the medicine cabinet. The sharp pain was constant now, a thousand hot knives driving 
into his shoulder with every little movement, making him nauseous and dizzy. Nothing in 
Scully’s medicine cabinet could help pain like that, but he had to do something. He’d already 
tried the aspirins; the only other choice was ibuprofen. He washed down half a dozen pills and 
stumbled back to the sofa.
Trying to find something, anything, to focus on to take his mind off the pain, he found his 
thoughts coming back to Scully, but this time the deal came to mind, too.
The deal, like everything else, was a mess. Sure, the basic principles were working the way he’d 
planned -- he was getting sex and giving information, and that office tryst went a long, long way 
toward satisfying the "strike against Mulder" part. But he never thought he’d end up thinking so 
much about Scully.
The way he’d planned it, the game had a definite end. When he’d given out all his information, 
or when Scully got completely fed up and sicced the Feds on him (or shot him), he’d leave. No 
strings, no regrets. That way the Consortium would go down, Mulder would (somehow; he 
hadn’t really planned how) find out what St. Scully had been doing behind his back, and he’d 
escape, having fucked his fantasy woman for a significant chunk of time. Though no subsequent 
partner could compare to her, he’d known at the beginning that he’d eventually have to leave. He 
accepted it as part of doing business.
But now, thinking about Scully was starting to turn the whole plan inside out. Suddenly, he 
didn’t want Mulder to find out -- ever. And a little part of him didn’t want to leave.
He’d already begun working toward that end, he realized. Even though there was still plenty of 
information to give, he found himself cutting it into smaller and smaller chunks, just to prolong 
the deal. He’d started tailoring his behavior in response to her wishes. He hardly felt like himself 
anymore. In his mind, the game no longer had an end. He didn’t want it to be over.
That realization scared him deeply.
Suddenly the pain came to the forefront again, stabbing into his shoulder with a white-hot 
intensity he hadn’t felt in months. He found himself doubled over, rubbing frantically at the 
shoulder, tears escaping from his eyes. He couldn’t breathe anymore; every breath just sent 
another jolt of agony through him, and it just kept pounding, pounding, pounding, never-ending 
pounding...
The deal suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered but ending the pain. One thought 
broke through the pain; one image manifested itself in his brain. This thought hadn’t come to him 
since he left the hospital in Russia, but it came now; demanding that he act on it. He knew he 
had to, as it was the one sure way to end the agony. Permanently.
*************************
The silence that greeted her seemed strange to Scully. Normally Krycek greeted her when she got 
home, but she heard no greeting. Maybe he was out. Great, then she’d have to worry about him 
again. With any luck, he at least left a note.
She moved through the apartment to the kitchen, where she found the table bare. No note. Just 
lovely. Now she had no idea when he’d be back.
A low moan from the living room drew her back there, and that was where she found Krycek. 
He was lying on the sofa, and it took a moment for her mind to register what she saw.
The gun in his hand.
The hand he lifted toward his head.
Even as she lunged toward the sofa, she heard the scream tear through her own throat.
"NOOOOO!"
End Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Send Mare feedback: MareZX@aol.com