WICKED GAME
By Mare
Chapter 3
Disclaimers in Chapter 1; Rated NC-17
As hard as she tried to avoid going home, Scully could delay it no longer. After she’d finished in 
the lab, she’d accomplished a lot of other work during the day in an effort to keep her thoughts 
as far as possible from the events of the previous night. She had been successful -- too successful, 
in fact. Her focused efficiency during the day had made short work of the stack of paperwork on 
her desk, leaving her with nothing more to do. Mulder’s remarks about the source of her new-
found energy continued to get on her nerves. She could take a joke as well as the next person, 
but he was carrying it too far. She’d thought he was sensitive enough to know when enough was 
enough, but apparently she’d thought wrong. Not only was it embarrassing and annoying; it also 
made her more and more sure that she couldn’t tell him what had happened. Once she reached 
the point where she either had to leave or hit him, she realized she had no choice but to go home.
With each block she drove, she sent up a silent prayer that Krycek would be gone when she got 
home. She even managed to half convince herself that what she thought had happened had really 
been a nightmare.
Nightmare, Dana? that little rebellious part of her mind piped up. Or is dream a better word?
"No," Scully said firmly, hardly aware that she was speaking aloud. "Even if it was real, it was a 
nightmare."
Really? When was the last time a man made love to you like that?
"He didn’t make love to me. He raped me."
Then why didn’t you tell Mulder? He would’ve sympathized; would’ve even stopped making those 
crude remarks. Could it be, maybe... you enjoyed it?
"NO!" Scully pounded her fist on the steering wheel. "I did not enjoy it." Even as she said the 
words, utterly delicious sensations from the previous night came back to her, and a completely 
unwelcome warmth spread through her lower body. "He just knew what buttons to push. Like he 
said, it’s just as easy as making someone scream."
Oh, come on. Three orgasms, just from knowing what buttons to push? Not likely. Admit it, you 
loved how it felt when he touched you. Feeling him inside you drove you wild.
"NO!"
Face it, if it were any other man, you’d be half in love with him already.
"I don’t base my relationships on sex. I would never fall in love with somebody just because he’s 
great in bed."
And he was great, wasn’t he? Best you ever had.
"So what?" She became aware that the driver of the car in the lane next to her was looking at her 
funny, and she glared at him until he sped up and passed her. "It was just sex," she said firmly. 
"Meaningless sex."
The State of Denial must be a nice place to live, Dana.
"Denial? I’m not in denial. It meant nothing. I didn’t tell Mulder because... well, Krycek would 
find some way to twist it around so... it looked like something it wasn’t."
You’re afraid, aren’t you?
"Of him? Absolutely not!"
You’re afraid of yourself. You’re afraid it felt too good and you liked it too much; afraid you won’t 
be able to hold out. Afraid you’ll go crawling to him one night begging him to do that again, and 
afraid of how you’ll feel when he pays you off with information.
"I’m not afraid," Scully whispered fiercely as she pulled up in front of her building. "Not afraid." 
But as she turned the key to kill the engine, she realized that her hands were trembling.
Taking a moment to compose herself, she looked up to the windows of her apartment. There 
were lights on, meaning that Krycek was still there. A shiver of fear ran through her, and she had 
to stop and calm herself down again. Nothing will happen, she reminded herself. I’ll be fine if he 
sticks to the terms of the deal. He won’t touch me unless I initiate it.
"Right," she said aloud. "The last time I took Alex Krycek at his word, Mulder almost got his arm 
chopped off." She took a deep breath and entered the building.
********************
Visions of how she might find her unwelcome houseguest tumbled through her mind, distracting 
her so thoroughly that she dropped her keys four times before finally fitting the correct key in the 
lock. She spun her mental roulette wheel, trying to decide which image would be the right one. 
Would he be in the kitchen cooking? Already waiting for her in the bedroom? Lounging naked 
on the sofa? She wiped that vision from her mind quickly, unwilling to deal with the reaction her 
body had to it, and pushed the door open.
Whatever picture her mind had settled on, it hadn’t prepared her for the utterly innocuous scene 
she saw before her. Krycek was stretched out on the sofa -- fully clothed -- reading the 
newspaper. There was a laptop computer (not hers) sitting closed on the coffee table, next to a 
newly-straightened pile of magazines she had been meaning to read. In fact, the whole room 
seemed to have been straightened up a bit. Not that it had been messy before; it just looked more 
organized somehow. Scully shook her head a bit in disbelief. Alex Krycek -- domestic?
He had looked up briefly when she came in, and now turned his attention back to the newspaper 
with an amused half-smile. "Hi," he said, more to the paper than to her. "Thought you might be 
late tonight."
Scully closed the door and kicked off her shoes, still processing the scene in her living room. Two 
nights in a row now, Krycek had gotten the drop on her. As soon as she thought she had him 
figured out, he went and did exactly the opposite of what she expected. What other surprises did 
he have in store for her? "Oh, you did," she said, trying to regain some measure of control. "And 
just what made you think I’d be late?"
"Must’ve been the way you left here this morning." He closed the paper and watched her as she 
moved about the room. "You as much as told me that if I was here, you wouldn’t be." He caught 
her gaze and held it. "Dana, you’re trying to avoid me."
She felt herself being drawn in, hypnotized by those luminous green eyes. Yes, I want you, right 
now, right here, was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to squelch the impulse to say the 
words. Instead she closed her eyes for a long moment, breaking the hypnotic spell. "And why 
would I avoid my own home just because you’re here?" she asked. "We have a deal. If you stick 
to it, I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"
"It’s not me you don’t trust, is it? You don’t trust yourself."
The impulse to smack that grin off his face was almost overpowering. He’d probably enjoy it, she 
thought. But the words were disturbingly familiar, words that had come from her own mind. 
Better to just not deal with that for the time being. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "How do you get 
through doors with an ego that size?"
He laughed. "So the bullpen was wrong -- you do have a sense of humor!"
Scully leaned against the entrance to the kitchen and chewed her lower lip. "Care to hear some of 
the things they said about you?"
"Heard ’em." Krycek sat up and stretched, a move of such surprisingly sinuous grace that Scully 
couldn’t take her eyes off him. She continued to watch as he stood and moved into the kitchen 
to check the pots on the stove. He moved like a cat, with an ease she’d never noticed before. 
Then again, she’d never seen him in this sort of environment, relaxed, confident and in control. 
The effect was very unsettling. "Seriously, Dana," he continued, his tone light, "lots of women 
would kill to be in your position right now. Believe it or not, I’d be considered a great catch."
"Sure, by the local law enforcement." She couldn’t watch him anymore; the whole effect was too 
disturbing. She mentally cursed herself for finding it disturbing at all.
He shook his head sadly at her. "Dana, didn’t your mother teach you that if you can’t say 
something nice --"
"Okay, I’ll bite," Scully sighed. "Why are you such a great catch?"
"Look around you. I cook, I pick up the place...you’ve already experienced my, um... after-hours 
skills... I even took the wet spot..."
Please don’t go there... not yet, she silently begged. "How considerate."
"I even did the laundry that was in the hamper."
He apparently didn’t want to nitpick last night either, at least not yet, or he wouldn’t have 
moved on so quickly. "Great. I suppose my whites are now black and my delicates are ripped to 
shreds?"
"Hey, I took Laundry Sorting 101," he said defensively.
"Fine," she sighed. "If you do windows and can give a bathroom a half-decent scrub, I just might 
hire you."
He looked up at her, studying her, his expression unreadable. "They were so wrong about you," 
he mused. "That’s good. I like a spirited woman."
"I’m so glad." Finally managing to beat back vivid memories of the previous night, Scully 
watched him move around the kitchen, setting the table for two. "You didn’t eat yet?"
"Couldn’t let you eat alone, could I?" He flashed her that killer grin, then turned back to the 
stove. "It’s almost ready. Are you?"
Ready for what? You? Very definitely not... "I’ll be right back," she said slowly, "and I swear, if I 
see wine on that table when I get back, you’re dead."
Krycek laughed softly. "Dana, would I do that to you?"
"Yes. You already have."
He raised an amused eyebrow at her. "Trust me?"
"Not on your life."
He laughed again. "Just go, will you?"
She surprised herself by going. She could afford to trust him to some extent on this point; it was 
a relatively simple one. She would, however, stand her ground on more important stuff. She 
knew better now.
Scully returned after quickly changing her clothes to find the room exactly as she’d left it. No 
soft lighting, no candles, no light music... and more important, no wine. A bottle of mineral water 
stood by one of the glasses on the table; a beer by the other. She slipped without a word into the 
chair by the mineral water place setting, noticing as she sat the lemon wedge on a small plate next 
to the bottle. This whole experience was a nightmare, but one thing about it was rather appealing. 
It was nice to be cooked for and waited on for a change, even if it was by a wanted felon. After 
all, her doctors had told her to start eating better, and Krycek was, to her amazement, a good 
cook. Thoughtful in his choices, too -- if Mulder had been serving this dinner, there would be no 
lemon for her water. In fact, there would probably be a beer by her plate, too. And the food 
would more than likely be Chinese takeout.
Scully dug into her meal (chicken cutlet something or other -- she suspected it was a recipe 
unique to her new cook), perfectly willing to dine in silence. At least she thought she was willing, 
but she soon realized that the silence was filled with unspoken questions she didn’t want to 
answer. She figured she might as well get the conversational ball rolling, if for no other reason 
than to head off any discussion of the previous night. "So," she asked, almost afraid of the 
answer, "what did you do all day?"
"Nothing much," came the answer. "Cleaned up last night’s dinner -- forgot to do that, didn’t 
we?" His playful leer brought no response (only through sheer force of will on her part), so he 
continued. "Picked up the place... did the laundry... like I said, not much."
She offered a tight smile. "How very domestic."
"Yeah, well, I got tired of living like a sewer rat. Domestic is a nice change." He paused, almost 
daring her to respond to the sewer rat comment, but she declined. "Oh, by the way, I thought 
that since I’ll be living here, I should unpack. I moved some stuff around in the closet and 
dresser. If you can’t find something, just ask."
Scully blinked at him. "You moved my things?" The thought of him touching her intimate 
possessions made her feel... weird.
"I can’t very well live out of a duffel bag for the rest of my life, can I? Where else was I going to 
put my stuff?"
Rest of your life? That’s how long you plan to be here? Not willing to discuss that point for the 
time being, she bent to her food again, now determined to dine in silence, no matter the cost.
Krycek allowed her to for a good while, through most of the meal, before asking in a casual, 
conversational tone, "So, how’s old Spooky these days?"
She looked up at him, trying and failing to read his expression. "Since when do you care?" What 
was he getting at?
"Today I happen to, okay?" No response from her, so he continued. "When I didn’t have cops 
and former colleagues beating in the door during the day, I figured you didn’t tell Mulder about 
last night." Another pause, during which Scully, knowing and dreading what was coming, 
concentrated mightily on her plate. "Why?"
Even though she knew it was coming, the question still hit Scully like a ton of bricks. Did he 
have to bring it up so soon? She gulped from her glass, then made the mistake of meeting his 
gaze. Those green eyes were very intense now, rendering her utterly incapable of speech. She 
dropped her eyes to her plate again. "I... I..."
"Why?" he repeated, his voice soft yet unmistakably commanding. "If you really believed it was 
what you called it, why didn’t you tell him? He might’ve even believed you."
She could almost feel that intense gaze boring into her skull. Not now, she silently begged. Don’t 
do this to me; not now.
"Why, Dana?" he asked again, his voice still soft. "Why didn’t you tell him?"
"Because..." The truth was, she didn’t really know why she hadn’t told Mulder anyway, despite 
his teasing. Of course she couldn’t now, not after a whole day, but why hadn’t she as soon as she 
got to the office? Because she didn’t think he’d believe her? Because Krycek could refute any 
claim she made? Because last night was... Because... "Because I just want this whole nightmare 
over with," she heard herself say. "I want it finished as soon as possible, and this... deal... of 
yours seems to be my only choice. If you stick to it." She could feel her face redden as she said 
the words.
She felt the intensity of his gaze drop dramatically, and he chucked softly. "Does that mean I 
have something to look forward to later?"
"No, I..." She took a sip of her water to calm herself, trying to will her face not to turn as red as 
her hair. Damn him for being amused by all this! "I’m not ready for that. Not yet."
"You were ready enough last night..."
"I wasn’t given a choice last night, was I?"
"Sure you were," he countered. "And I didn’t hear the word ‘no’ pass your lips once. Which is 
why I sort of thought you might want to get this deal started as soon as possible..."
"I thought you said the ‘when’ was my call."
He shrugged. "It is," he said mildly. "But if you’re even thinking about it... last night wasn’t 
really so awful, was it?"
Again memories of the previous night washed over her, and it took every ounce of self-control 
she had not to give in. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked quietly, not meeting his eyes. 
"Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? Do you even care? You could’ve asked me to 
climb Mount Everest without ropes and it wouldn’t be this hard." She paused, took a breath, and 
sipped from her glass again. "The only way you could’ve made this deal any harder would be by 
asking me to... to sleep with that black-lunged bastard you’re in league with." Her voice had 
dropped almost to a whisper by the time she finished, and she was almost surprised to find that 
she was trembling.
"See, Dana, it could be worse," he pointed out, an evil grin appearing on his face. "I could’ve 
asked you to sleep with other people, and I didn’t. Console yourself with that if you like. It’s 
only me."
"That," she spat, "is the problem."
Krycek considered this for a moment. "Sex with me is really that revolting?" he finally asked.
Scully fought to keep herself from crying. How could the sick bastard be so glib about this? The 
most revolting part of this, for the moment, was that her mouth just couldn’t seem to form the 
emphatic "yes" she desperately wanted to say. "Asking for it is revolting. And degrading. This 
whole deal is... hard. So damn hard."
"I know it’s hard," he broke in softly, and she looked up to see a flash of something -- might that 
be regret? -- cross his eyes. "I can’t help it."
"You can’t help it?" she hissed. "You --"
"I can’t help it," he repeated quietly.
Her eyes met his again, and she felt all the anger drain from her body. "What do you get out of 
this, anyway?"
"Besides the obvious? Sorry, that’s classified."
"Classified." He nodded. "Dammit, tell me!"
He sighed. "Dana, in my experience, this statement is generally full of shit, but in this case it’s 
very true: what you don’t know can’t hurt you."
Scully sat back and processed what she’d just heard. Was there something more going on here? 
More than just his own sick, sadistic game? What was he keeping from her?
"By the way," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "that should be ‘used to be in league with’."
She blinked. "What?"
"You assume I’m connected to that black-lunged bastard. Our agendas... ah... aren’t quite the 
same anymore."
That was news. "Since when?"
Krycek drained his beer. "He tried to kill me twice," he said evenly. "Quite a philosophical 
difference, wouldn’t you say?"
Okay, maybe that had something to do with what was going on. But... "So why this deal, with 
these terms? Why does it have to involve me?" Her voice dropped as an uncharacteristic wave of 
self-pity came over her. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"
"It’s not a question of deserving it," Krycek told her. "The stakes are high here, Dana. I know 
you don’t believe that, but it’s true; much higher than you think they are. And trust me, you’ll 
thank me when this is all over."
"What are the stakes?" she demanded.
"Classified."
"How am I supposed to know when this is over if I don’t know what I’m working toward?"
"You’ll know. Believe me, when the time comes, you’ll know."
Scully mentally berated herself for falling into this trap. Once again, she’d placed herself in this 
man’s hands, trusting him to lead her to some unknown, but apparently important, goal. She’d 
sworn never again after the last time...
But last time you didn’t have sex with him, that little part of her mind piped up. That is what’s 
keeping you in this deal, isn’t it?
She banished that thought from her mind. It was absolutely impossible for one night to affect her 
life so profoundly, to the point where she would actually agree to something like this. Wasn’t it? 
There had to be some way out of this...
"Krycek," she began softly, then corrected herself. "Alex... is there any way... any way at all that 
we could... renegotiate?"
He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "Renegotiate?"
"Yes." Scully took a deep breath, then continued tentatively, "If I could arrange for a pardon..."
He shook his head slowly. "You don’t get it, do you, Dana?"
"But you’d be free," she protested.
"Dana, even with a pardon," he said, as if explaining to a small child, "I’m not free."
"You’re telling me that your own personal freedom... the ability to walk down the street in broad 
daylight without getting carted off to jail, is actually less important to you than sleeping with 
me?" She knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn’t help it. She was getting desperate.
"You’re not hearing me, are you?" He sighed, apparently as frustrated with this question as she 
was. "I don’t care if you get a pardon from the President himself and have him sign it right here 
in front of me. It doesn’t matter. Will that stop anybody from putting a bullet in my head? Get 
me a pardon from that and maybe we’ll talk. Anything less means nothing. I’m not free."
"I see." She sat back, trying not to let her despair show on her face. "You’re not free, so I’m not 
free."
"You really don’t get it, do you?" Krycek got up and paced around the kitchen. His voice 
changed; she thought he sounded almost angry now. Not quite, not yet, but the anger was there, 
just beneath the surface. "You’re as free as you want to be. You tell me right now you want to 
bag the deal and I’m outta here. You’re free as a bird; you can pretend the last two days never 
happened if you want. If you can. No strings. But if you say yes, you’re in this deal one hundred 
percent, and you’re in it to the end. You have time if you need it, but rest assured, time is not 
unlimited. Something will be expected of you. And if you say yes and then string me along? I’m 
outta here then, too... and you won’t like what happens after I leave."
He came to rest by the chair from which he’d arisen, leaning forward across the table, eyes fixed 
intently on her. "You just have to decide how badly you want what I’m offering." He reached 
out and, before she could move, gently caressed her cheek. His touch might just as well have 
been a slap. The gesture and the gleam in his eyes sent a clear message: Never forget I’m 
dangerous. Never forget I’m in control. "I know you want it," he whispered. "You just tell me 
how much."
Scully could only sit and stare at him. Yes, she wanted the information he offered; Mulder 
needed it. But did she really want...
You know you do, that little voice told her. Sure, it all sounds sleazy. Sure, he could hurt you any 
time he wants to. But it all comes down to one thing, doesn’t it? You do want him, and you won’t 
be able to let him just walk out that door.
Krycek sat down again, leaning back and crossing his arms. "So, are you still willing to stand by 
that ‘yes’ you gave me last night?"
He was giving her another chance to back out. But... would he really let her just walk away from 
this, with no repercussions? Probably not, she admitted. She couldn’t forget who she was dealing 
with here -- he’d sold out his own government; who was she to expect any better treatment? Of 
course, she could still end the whole thing by telling Mulder...
Another completely unexpected flash of memory from the previous night sprang to her mind. She 
could almost feel again the incredible things he did to her with his hands... his tongue... "Yes," 
she whispered, so softly she could barely hear it herself.
"What was that?" Krycek asked. "Didn’t quite hear you."
"Yes," she repeated, louder, unable to look at him. "Yes, we have a deal."
"Good." He drew her mostly-clean plate across the table. "You weren’t planning on finishing this 
cutlet, were you?"
She looked up, taken aback yet again. She had just agreed to be his sex slave, and what did he 
want to do? Eat. "I’m tired, and I have a headache," she said, rising from her seat. "If it’s okay 
with you, I’m just going to go to bed now."
He looked up from the plate, startled. "You okay?"
"I’m fine; I’m just tired." The headache is your fault, she mentally added.
"I take it that wasn’t an invitation, then."
She sighed as she moved toward the hall. "No, it wasn’t. Believe me, you’ll know it when you 
get an invitation."
Krycek waited until she was almost in the bedroom before calling out to her. "You know, Dana, 
someday this is going to be a more equal partnership."
A chill ran down Scully’s spine as she returned to the entrance to the dining nook. "I beg your 
pardon?"
"It is," he insisted, clearing the dishes off the table. "One of these days you’re going to help with 
the dishes."
********************
Scully sighed in frustration. Tired as she was, sleep refused to come. She tried to empty her mind 
and allow herself to drift off, but soon realized that wouldn’t work. There was too much running 
through her head to even think of sleep. She punched her pillow, releasing some tension, and 
gave up. The questions demanded answers, or at least some focused thought.
Chief among those questions was just how her houseguest would behave now that she’d agreed 
to his deal. Would he stick to it? His word had never been worth much before, so she couldn’t 
count on it now. She had searched for the least sexy sleepwear she could find, finally settling on 
a pair of baggy cotton pajamas that buttoned up to the neck. It was a precaution, just in case 
Krycek finished the dishes and decided to join her. He hadn’t; she had heard the TV come on 
once he was finished in the kitchen. Even though he’d lowered the volume, she could still hear 
what was on: a couple of inane sitcoms, a cop drama, the late news. Somehow she’d never 
thought of Alex Krycek as the type to kill an evening in front of the boob tube, but that was 
exactly what he was doing. Just one more thing to keep her off-balance.
Their dinner conversation this evening had certainly kept her off-balance. At first she had 
thought this deal was just one of Krycek’s little head games (a particularly sadistic one), but she 
was apparently mistaken. If he could be believed, it went much deeper than that. Start with that 
statement that he wasn’t free. What did that mean? Probably that the smoking bastard still 
wanted him dead. Why did he want him dead? She’d probably never know. Not unless he 
benevolently decided to tell her everything, and she was pretty sure it would be a cold day in hell 
before he did that.
Okay, so the deal had something to do with buying his freedom from the Morley Man. How? By 
feeding the information about his operations to Mulder through her. But why involve her at all? 
It wasn’t like he’d never fed information to Mulder before. Of course, the end result of that was 
that Krycek became Mulder’s personal punching bag and had his arm brutally amputated. Had he 
been trying to expose the smoker then? He’d said he was, but who could believe him? That was 
probably the reason for her involvement. It was probably safer for him to be once removed from 
the exposure when (if?) it came. That would also explain how he could be desperate enough to 
offer it in the first place.
What she still didn’t understand was how he could say she’d thank him once this was over. Sure, 
once they were exposed, he’d be free, but what benefit would that be to her? Evidently there 
were still things he hadn’t revealed. He said he got something "besides the obvious" out of the 
deal. What was that? And how did she fit into that? Was she his chosen conduit for information 
only because he wanted to sleep with her? Or was there something more on the line here? He 
implied that there was, but again, how could she take him at his word?
Scully was still awake and pondering these questions when she heard the TV shut off. A minute 
later Krycek entered the bedroom, moving around in the dark like he’d lived there for years. She 
watched him through slitted eyes, trying not to give away the fact that she was still awake. He 
started to undress, and Scully sent up a silent prayer: Please, God, don’t let him sleep naked. Her 
prayer was answered quickly, as he stripped down to only his t-shirt and boxers. He went into 
the bathroom, and she turned on her side, away from his half of the bed. She heard the toilet 
flush and the faucet run, then he was sliding under the covers next to her.
There was a pregnant pause, and she could feel the weight of his stare. She heard a soft chuckle, 
then his low, throaty voice. "Nice jammies, Dana," he purred. "Very sexy." Then he turned on his 
side away from her with a soft sigh.
What have I done? Scully asked herself as she closed her eyes. Dear God, what have I done?
********************
He stood in the middle of the meadow dressed all in black, a dark beacon that drew her like a 
moth to a flame. She flew to him, clung to him, molded herself to his body. He stroked her cheek 
once, the invitation clear in the gesture and in his brilliant emerald eyes. She let her gauzy white 
dress fall to the grass, offering herself to him. In an instant she was lying on the dress and he was 
with her. He kissed and touched her everywhere, setting her entire body afire with the magic of his 
touch. His roving hand came to rest between her legs and she opened them in welcome, shivering 
and sighing at his gentle strokes. First one finger, then two, then three slid inside her, and she 
gasped at the sudden entry. He kissed her then, his tongue invading her mouth in time to the 
rhythm of his fingers sliding in and out of her. His thumb stroked her tiny nub, bringing her almost 
instantly to that perfect peak of ecstasy --
Scully sat up like a shot, breathing hard and more aroused than she’d ever been from any dream 
in her life. It was a dream, wasn’t it? Sure it was. She was in her bedroom, in her own bed, alone 
-- no, not alone. Not alone, but certainly not being --
She shook her head and took a deep breath, willing her pounding heart to slow down. She 
calmed herself after a few moments and slid back down toward the pillow again. That was when 
she noticed the dark spots on the crisp white pillowcase, clearly visible in the pale moonlight 
filtering through the curtains. With growing fear she touched her upper lip, and her finger came 
away wet. Another nosebleed.
She scooted into the bathroom and was concentrating on trying to stop the nosebleed, praying 
that it wouldn’t get worse, when she heard movement behind her. She looked up from the sink to 
find Krycek standing in the doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Dana, are you okay?" he 
asked, reaching out to her. "Here, let me --"
"Don’t touch me!" she cried sharply, shrinking away from his touch.
He stepped back, and she turned away almost too quickly to see the flicker of hurt in his eyes. "I 
was only trying to help."
"I don’t need your help," she snapped, reaching for another tissue.
He moved toward her again and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes you do, Dana," he said 
softly.
The memory of her dream came to her, and she jerked away from his touch and spun around to 
face him. "I said, don’t touch me!" she cried, and felt a measure of satisfaction when he obeyed 
and stepped back, chastened. "You have a lot of nerve, you know that?" she went on, the effects 
of the last two days and the dream, combined with the crushing fear that accompanied every 
nosebleed, finally allowing her to lash out at him. "You really do. How can you stand there and 
tell me I need your help? You torture me and badger me into this sick deal of yours, and I need 
your help? I have a terminal disease -- how the hell do you think you can help with that? You’re 
probably one of the ones who gave it to me!"
Krycek stiffened at that, his hands curling unconsciously into fists. "Never, ever say that again," 
he said in a low voice, his eyes filling with anger. "Don’t you dare lay that on me! You have no 
idea!"
"Then enlighten me!"
His eyes closed now, and he struggled with himself for a long moment before he was able to 
speak. "I can’t." His voice was soft again, his anger faded to sadness. "I can’t."
"Then leave me alone." She turned back to the sink, closing her eyes against tears.
"That’s the problem, you know," Krycek said, moving forward and placing his hands on her 
shoulders. This time she didn’t shrug them off. "Everyone’s leaving you alone, and you’re 
perfectly happy to push the ones who don’t away. Who’s there for you through this? People 
always lean on you. Who do you get to lean on now?"
"My mother," Scully whispered, choking back tears. "Mulder..."
"Your mother," Krycek said gently, now massaging her shoulders, "has no idea, does she? She 
says she’s there for you, but she doesn’t know what you’re going through and you don’t talk to 
her, you don’t tell her what you’re feeling. You don’t tell her how you’re afraid every time you 
get a nosebleed that the cancer’s spreading. You can’t tell her how you feel you’re letting her 
down. She still thinks you’re the strong one, the daughter who can take anything. Who can cope 
with anything. You’re the doctor; cancer at least is an enemy you know how to fight. She 
doesn’t know..." He leaned in closer now, whispering in her ear. "She doesn’t know how scared 
to death you really are."
Scully took a deep breath and pulled away from his massage. He couldn’t have come any closer 
to the mark unless he’d been living in her own head the last few weeks. How the hell did he 
know?
"And Mulder," he went on, now leaning against the bathroom wall, "is in denial. You don’t talk 
to him either, because the subject scares him even more than it scares you. He says he’s there for 
you too, but he’s not. He can’t be because he’s too busy wallowing in self-pity; thinking about 
how if you die he won’t have anyone to dump his problems on anymore. You don’t even feel 
you can talk about it with him because the subject upsets him, and God forbid we upset Mulder, 
right? Poor tortured Mulder. Everyone’s out to get him. You are too, by being selfish enough to 
die and leave him all alone."
"That’s not fair," she whispered, but even as the words came out, she knew that at least part of 
what Krycek said was true. She didn’t feel she could talk about the cancer with Mulder, and he 
certainly was in denial.
"Maybe not," Krycek allowed. "But it is true, and deep down you know that." He waited for her 
denial, but none came so he continued. "You do need somebody to be there for you through this. 
To give you a shoulder to cry on if you need it and a sounding board to scream at if you need to. 
You need someone who’s traveled the same road and knows how you feel." He paused, then, "I 
can do that for you."
She turned, confused. "You can? You’ve had cancer?"
"No," he sighed, "but I’ve stared death in the face, and I did it alone. I was so sure, so damn sure 
I’d die in that silo, and I have to tell you I was never so scared in my life. I thought I wanted to 
die after those barbarians hacked my arm off..." A slight shiver ran through him and he crossed 
his arms as if trying to ward off a chill. "They tell me I almost did. And y’know what? No matter 
how much I wanted to die, when it came right down to it, the idea scared the hell out of me."
He moved forward again, gently stroking her hair. She allowed him to, suddenly mesmerized by 
the soft, gentle look in his eyes; the kind of look she’d never expected to see from him. "My 
journeys might not have been the same as yours," he told her, "but I do know how you feel; I do 
understand. I know you feel more alone now than you ever have, but it doesn’t have to be that 
way." He gently lifted her chin so that she was looking up at him. "I can help you, Dana," he said 
softly. "Please let me."
A part of her desperately wanted to believe and trust him. That part ached to just lay her head on 
his strong shoulder and cry as she hadn’t been able to thus far; cry out all her loneliness, 
depression, and fear, and let him comfort her. But the rest of her...
She pulled away from him and turned back to the sink. "The only way you can help me," she 
said, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice, "is to find a cure for this disease and get out of 
my life."
He said nothing for what felt like a long time; so long that she thought he’d left. She looked up 
into the mirror and saw him still standing behind her, eyes fixed on her. When her eyes met his in 
the mirror, he looked away and shifted his weight, unsure now. And when he spoke, his voice 
was so quiet she could barely make out his words.
"I can make certain... inquiries..."
Scully whirled around to face him, but his attention was focused somewhere off to her side. "Are 
you saying you have a cure for this disease?" she asked sharply.
Krycek sighed deeply and met her eyes. "There are some avenues I can explore..."
She threw up her hands. "Of course. You have nothing. How in the world I could ever believe --"
"It’s not nothing." He sounded almost defensive now.
"No? It’s no sure thing either, is it?"
"Surer than that chemo you’re undergoing right now."
"And just what would I have to do for this? Is this where you tell me I have to sleep with --?"
"No." He cut her off quickly. "You wouldn’t have to do anything you’re not already doing."
"So this is part of the deal."
He shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly..."
"I find it very difficult to believe that you’d offer it if there wasn’t anything in it for you."
"Look, does it really matter?" he asked. "Do you want me to make the arrangements or not?"
Scully leaned back against the sink and weighed her options. Did he really know of a cure? Or 
was this just another one of his little head games? Did a cure even exist? She’d been told it did 
not, but then again... Krycek was once in league with the people responsible for her disease. If 
anyone could get ahold of a highly classified treatment, he was the one. Still... it was still 
Krycek. The man offering her her life was once sent to her own living room to end it...
She shook her head and turned back to the sink. "No, I don’t... I don’t believe you; I don’t trust 
you. There’s no way you can have a cure."
"Suit yourself." She could almost hear the shrug in his voice. "The offer’s always open. All you 
have to do is ask."
She looked up at him once more. "Why? After all you’ve done to me and my family, why do you 
want to help me?"
"I don’t think you deserve to die." The words were simple, but his intense green eyes, fixed on 
hers, suggested to her that there was far more to the answer.
She met that gaze for a long moment, then bent back to the sink, hoping he wouldn’t notice the 
shudder that ran through her. "I’m touched," she said flatly. "Now get out."
He moved toward the bathroom door, but turned back to her. "Think about this, Dana," he said. 
"They don’t have anything to offer you. They just treat you like a cancer patient and wait for you 
to die. I’m offering you life. And even if you don’t take it, for the time you have left, I’ll treat 
you like a woman. A woman with a full, rich life she shouldn’t be so hasty to let go of."
"Get out," Scully repeated softly.
To her great surprise, he did. And then she sat down on the edge of the bathtub and cried.
End Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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