Bittersweet Surrender

He almost turned around and left when he saw her.

He knew they'd send someone. Given her job, it made sense that it was her. He should've known.

Should've known, but still hoped it wouldn't be.

She looked different to him, more professional, more confident. He should have been glad for her, but it made things worse.

She'd want to know why he hasn't contacted her since he left with Mulder.

He knew she wouldn't ask. Not here at least, but he'd see it in her eyes, and then he'd see something worse.

He'd see her pity.

He didn't want to see that look on her

He'd seen it plenty of times before.

It was on the men from the gulag, who found him in the forest.

It was on every new solider that came into his command and he's seen it on the face of every woman he's met since then.

He was use to it. He could handle it from all of them, but not from her.

But he couldn't turn around and leave, so he went to her and got it over with as quickly as possible.

Surprisingly, she didn't show much emotion at all. She was good at that, being cold, except with those she cared about. Perhaps he overestimated his importance to her.

He told himself that was a good thing. With luck he wouldn't have to see her again at all, but luck was rarely with him.

She came later to his quarters. His men tried to get rid of her but she wouldn't leave. They didn't know what to do with her and finally brought her to his door.

She said nothing as she stood the doorway, while two young soldiers stood behind her looking sheepishly at him.

"She won't leave sir, she insists on seeing you."

He sighed and motioned them to let her in. He couldn't blame his men, she knew how to stand her ground, and wasn't easily intimidated. They didn't stand a chance.

She helped herself to a chair, still silent. Although she was wearing the same clothes as when he saw her earlier, she seemed less professional, more feminine, more like she did the last time they were together.

In fact, this hole he was living in was also a lot like the one he was in the last time they were together, but he didn't want to think about that. She may be the same person as she was back then, but he wasn't. There was no point in torturing himself with useless memories.

"What do you want, Marita. You shouldn't be here."

She stayed silent for a moment, almost emotionless but he could tell she was nervous. She would twirl her fingers in her hair when she was nervous. He told her that once, and afterwards she was careful not do it. He even thought that was why she cut it, but she was doing it now.

"I think it's obvious we need to talk."

"Talk?" He scoffed

He knew what kind of woman she was, and what type of man she needed. He was no longer like that. Did she come to express her regret? Did she think it would help anything by putting him through more humiliation? Or worse, maybe she wanted to know the details. Perhaps she felt she had some right to know what took the man she knew away from her. He wasn't ready to do that. He didn't think he'd ever be ready to do that.

"I want you to go, Marita."

She went over to where he was standing and stood in front of him, still looking at his eyes. She hadn't looked at his arm since she came in. He could smell her shampoo. She hadn't changed it. He'd forgotten how nice she smelled.

She whispered in his ear. "We promised each other we'd be in this together."

At first he thought he heard her wrong. "Are you kidding?"

She wasn't. He could see it in her face.

This was worse than he had expected. For a while he thought she might have spared him from her pity, but she just delivered it in a different way.

"I don't need you here," he hissed, "I don't expect you to fulfill that promise and I don't want you to. I'd rather you not be here at all than to come here out of some obligation."

He turned to open the door but she pulled him back. "I wasn't talking about my obligation to you."

She ran her hand along his face. Her smooth skin was another thing he'd forgotten.

"I've missed you." She said, and moved her hand to the spot on his neck she knew gave him shivers. "I haven't been able to escape for a while.

More memories. It was a game they'd played long ago, before he was exiled. Like children playing pretend. They'd spend an evening talking about their mundane jobs, and normal lives, that didn't exist and then they'd make love silently, fearing any words or sounds that would break the façade. Pointless tragic make believe, but it made them feel better.

It wouldn't work anymore, too much has happened.

He swallowed the lump that had formed suddenly in his throat and looked down at his arm.

"I can't pretend normal anymore."

She nodded, still caressing his neck. "That wasn't the only way we had to feel better."

Then he saw something in her eyes he'd been certain he would never see again.

Desire.

She was looking at him the same way she had before.

More memories, and he could no longer hold them back. He suddenly wanted to be able to escape with her too. So, when she kissed him he didn't pull away, and before he knew it he was wanting her back.

He kept telling himself over and over it doesn't mean much, it doesn't mean anything at all. She was probably still in denial. Tomorrow she'd wake up and realize this mistake, and if not tomorrow, some day soon after.

Still, he realized he missed her, and thought maybe he could escape, for a little while. As long as he kept telling himself that it wouldn't last, as long as he prepared himself for when she would leave him for better things, this indulgence would be okay.

Sweet Surrender/ Sarah Mclachlan

It doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room
I've crossed the last line
from where I can't return
where every step I took in faith
betrayed me
and led me from my home

And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

You take me in
no questions asked
you strip away the ugliness
that surrounds me
are you an angel
am I already that gone
I only hope
that I won't disappoint you
when I'm down here
on my knees

And sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

Sweet surrender
is all that I have to give

And I don't understand
how by the touch of your hand
I would be the one to fall

I miss the little things
I miss everything
about you

It doesn't mean much
it doesn't mean anything at all
the life I've left behind me
is a cold room

And sweet surrender
Is all that I have to give.

Thanks to Marcia for the lyrics.

Note on Canon: I always thought that Patient X was the first time these two saw each other since the loss of Krycek's arm. After I read about Alex being the one on the phone in Marita's apartment, I thought, "yeah, that would work", but it wasn't my first impression, and since we didn't actually see his face, I figure it's okay if I took some liberty with it.