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Part One: Midnight Angel Take the hope from the heart of a man Death left a sour taste in his mouth, a burning stench in his nostrils, and no matter how many times he washed, he still couldn't rid himself of the feel of it on his skin. He wasn't sure if it was intention or boredom that had caused him to dress in black, looking every bit the reaper he likened himself to. The knuckles of his right hand were bleached white with the vicious fist his fingers had locked themselves in. A meager defense against the cold. Not even the vodka burning in his stomach could warm him. No one bothered to question him here. No one knew his name, or even dared look him in the eye. He kept to himself, as much a loner as ever. The others didn't know just how lucky they were. He only spoke to those men he meant to destroy. The mercenary was a role he played very well. And yet, as he stepped onto the sidewalk in the treacherously frigid night air, his attention was drawn immediately to the wisp of fragility that stood before him. She didn't belong there. That much was obvious. The blushing luminescence of her flesh glowed virgin-white in the neon lights. Blue flashes of color danced over her dark hair, landing in a halo atop her head as she paused to adjust her sandal. She was about as natural standing in front of the tattoo parlors and seedy bars that filled his gaze as the nun that once slapped a ruler across his palm. The only difference was, the Sister had been an old woman...this was just a girl. His first impulse was to keep walking, to disappear into the oily black shadows and never look back. His second urge was to crush her like a flower, breathing her heady scent in and savoring every nuance. In the end, he merely stared. Dressed in a powdery-blue velvet blouse, her cut-off jeans swishing around her thighs like a lover's whisper, she glided away from him. As the broken sidewalk between them widened with each step, he fought the compulsion to follow. This wasn't his scene. True, he hadn't been with a woman in a long time, but that didn't make him desperate enough to chase some candy-scented teen-ager to her daddy's BMW. He didn't need to run his palm over the beaded chain around her ankle, nor to run his fingers through the chocolate silk of her hair. He had no intention of tasting her bubble gum flavored lips. He didn't itch for the feel of her manicured nails scratching at his back. So why the fuck was he following her? It had been a long time since he'd noticed the subtly sway of a woman's hips. Females as a whole had never been one of his top priorities...but that was not to say that he was at all interested in men. His only concern in the male body was in knowing just where to strike to do the most damage. From the first memory he could recall, his Cold-War immigrant parents had been teaching him just what it took to survive...what it meant to sacrifice. The soft peal of a woman's laughter, in a world where the law was "betray or be betrayed," could very well be deadly. **Cheat, steal, lie. Kill precisely and quickly. Trust no one. Finish anyone who gets in your way.** It was a hollow way to live...but it was the only way to stay alive. Tuning out the song of the city, horns blaring, helicopters flapping by in utter darkness, he concentrated on the soft heartbeat of her shoes on the concrete. Stalking her like an unsuspecting rabbit. At times almost close enough to touch, yet sometimes lost among a crowd of carousing strangers. The rapid tattoo of his heart was almost enough to make him pause. He was a skillful hunter and had long ago trained himself to become apathetic to the kill. This instance may have been different, but he was shocked by his own excitement. The thrill racing through his veins like mercury hit a fever pitch as she rounded the corner and he lost sight of her. Gone, in the blink of an eye. Reaching the spot where she once stood, he swiveled around, scanning the area, only to find nothing. Disappeared. And yet, not quite. The smell of her still lingered in the air, soft and sweet like wildflowers in spring. With just a hint of spice that made his eyes close in sheer surrender. For just a moment, he wasn't a killer anymore. He wasn't a cold-blooded murderer with only destruction and perseverance on his mind. He was just a man, overcome with the latent lust and hunger for a beautiful woman. Never once, not even in his lowest hour, had he ever been a rapist. The idea of forcing an innocent woman left him with only cold distaste. And he had no desire to overpower this delicate creature...but he did want her. With an intensity that left him trembling. Yet he wasn't prepared for the instant when he opened his eyes to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Standing on the lower steps of a staircase, hidden in the shadows of the corner building, she held the pistol with two hands. Her grip wavered slightly as she met his gaze with wide blue eyes, her nostrils flaring with the effort to keep her flustered nerves under control. "You mind telling me who the hell you are and why you're following me?" A moment passed in silence and he felt a slow smile spreading across his face. "Last I heard, this was a public sidewalk." Her finger twitched slightly on the trigger, but he didn't flinch. He had to fight the urge to check his watch out of boredom. "Public sidewalk, my ass. That doesn't give you the right to follow me home." He glanced up at the door frame above her. Apartment 2A. His gaze drifted over the flaked paint, chipped bricks and graffiti-laden concrete, the sagging and well-worn wooden steps she stood on. And suddenly his earlier image of the spoiled little rich girl went up in flames. "Look, I made a mistake. Do you think you could flick the safety back on that thing before you accidentally blow my head off?" "I don't think so. Who are you?" He backed up a step, raising his hands slightly to show her he meant no harm. The very thought was so ridiculous he almost laughed. "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry I bothered you." "Stop right there." Her aim became more determined...centering right on his groin. He froze. "I've seen you before. Who are you?" Fuck. He should have walked away when he'd had the chance. "Alex." She blinked slowly, licked her lips, and hesitantly lowered the gun. Still, she didn't flip on the safety. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually this paranoid. I just moved here and the idea of being raped doesn't really appeal to me, you know?" Somehow he managed a slight smirk. "You're right to be suspicious. For all you know, I could be a serial killer." Her eyes crinkled, a dimple curving her cheek. "What a way to go." Heat spread through his torso, lighting blazing flames along the way, burning a fire storm to his suddenly too-tight jeans. He'd spent most of his life attracted to violence. Although his intelligence had always been impressive, it was his seemingly effortless skill at marksmanship that had gotten him noticed at Quantico. It was no mistake, however. With former KGB agents as parents, and the knowledge that the world was most certainly coming to an end, he'd learned how to fight before he learned to talk. Resistance was in his blood. So why did he find himself so enticed by this stainless angel? "I didn't mean to be so rude." She rubbed her arm briskly. "It's cold out here. Do you have a place to stay for the night?" "Why, are you inviting me in?" "No...I was going to refer you to the 6th Street Shelter. I volunteer there sometimes. They're good people." "I have a place." "Oh." She stared at him for a minute, her eyes sweeping over him in a strangely daring caress. She opened her mouth as if to say something, only to close it again. And then she finally got the nerve. "Well the least I can do is offer you a cup of coffee, after pulling a gun on you." "You don't remain suspicious very long." "Well, you look harmless enough, Alex...besides, I still have the gun, and my walls are very thin. Mrs. Kitts could have the cops here in seconds, should I scream." Trusting. Naive and trusting. He hadn't encountered the combination in quite some time...but given where he usually spent his time, that wasn't surprising. A man with no loyalties had no place asking for trust. Just the same, he had no trust for anyone else. What was it that Rudyard Kipling had once said? "The female of the species is more deadly than the male." And it made sense. The most wicked of thorns were often carried by the prettiest flowers. He had no proof of her innocence. Nothing more than some gut feeling. And yet he followed her up those dark stairs. She wisely kept the gun close to her side, out of his reach, ready to use should she sense any danger. Funny. She obviously wouldn't know danger if it stung her on the ass. And what an interesting ass it was. He was hypnotized by the rhythmic sway. Had to fight the urge to mold his palm to the curve. Once she reached the top of the stairs, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as she used her free hand to unlock the door. Flipping a switch near the door, she illuminated the penthouse loft to a soft pinkish glow. Stepping aside, she motioned for him to go ahead. "I hope you don't mind the mess. I don't have many visitors." His gaze swept around the room. The bare wood floor was barely visible under the yards of paint-spattered drop cloths. Canvases of different shapes and sizes leaned against the walls, and more still were mounted on various easels around the room. Each in a different state of completion. Some covered with bright splashes of oil paint, others in acrylic, and still others with only pencil drawings in place. But they were all disturbing. When he would have expected this woman's soul to be composed of flowers and poetry, instead he was greeted with harsh lines and blurred shapes. She met his stare, her cheeks flushed. "They aren't finished. I can't seem to get them right. But this is the stuff that's selling at the galleries. They can't keep them in stock....well, except mine. Mine they can't get rid of." He stepped closer to one of the canvases, running his fingers over the dried paint. "You're not much of a talker, are you?" she asked. His touch skimmed over the scrawled red paint that made up her signature. Sabryn Jaegar. He almost didn't notice when she stepped away from him to the minuscule counter space that made up her kitchen. "Do you like your coffee black?" "Do you have tea?" He could feel Sabryn's eyes on him, but didn't look up. "Uh...sure." The rest of her high-ceiling apartment consisted of a tiny bathroom area, kept separate by a wall of glass bricks, and corner that served as her bedroom. The weathered iron frame of her bed was barely recognizable under the mound of twisted blankets and sheets. Having not slept a normal night in years, he recognized the signs of nightmares immediately. Large windows lined two walls of the loft, allowing him to see the busy street below. There were no pictures sitting on her few pieces of furniture, no signs of a live-in lover or even the occasional boyfriend. The huge place was as empty and cavernous as an airplane hangar. "You live here alone?" She froze in the process of putting a mug in the microwave. It took her a moment to decide just how to answer him. In the end, he knew, she decided on the truth. "Yes. I'm not a city girl." She turned a bit, to face him. "I grew up on a farm, but I'm not exactly a country bumpkin either. I guess I don't really belong anywhere." He couldn't picture her on a farm. Of course, he doubted anyone could say the same of him either, even though he'd been born in rural Colorado. Still, there was a good reason he didn't resemble a farm boy...instead of raising pigs or sheep, his father had been raising a son that one day might have to fight his own future. A boy fluent in Russian, and possessing basic knowledge of several other languages, rather than knowing how to drive a tractor or milk a cow. A boy who knew how to find the information his father sought by any means necessary. A favorite of his teachers, a straight A student, a driven athlete. A man who'd graduated with honors, and went on to get a double major in college, entering the FBI Academy at Quantico to become a Special Agent. It was only a means to an end. Just as his father before him, Alex Krycek was first and foremost a spy. Some would call him a traitor. But those bastards didn't know what they were up against. In this world, there was no one country or government that he resisted. They were all the same corrupt, lying, back-stabbing syndicate. Treason was the game they started. "Are you from around here, Alex?" "No," he said, his voice barely audible even to his own ears. "I'm not from anywhere." "That's an odd thing to say. But don't worry, I understand. I don't really talk about myself all that much either...except, around you. I guess you just do that to me." He could think of a lot of things he'd like to do to her, but making her talk wasn't real high on that list. "I'm sorry I don't have anywhere for you to sit." She headed towards the bed, trying in vain to smooth down the rumpled covers. After a moment, she just tossed them to the floor. "I guess this will have to do." He nodded at the gun she'd tucked into her waist band. "That's a dangerous place to keep that thing. At least for me anyway." "Hmm? Oh..." She blushed a bit. "I'm sorry, I just--I'm being stupid. My brother gave this to me when I moved into the city. I'm not really all that comfortable with it, but--" "But you're even less comfortable with me." "No. That's the problem. I am comfortable with you, but sometimes I guess I'm too trusting and I really shouldn't be. Isn't that dumb?" "Not at all. You should be cautious. This world is all going to hell, anyway." "You sound like my brother." Considering him carefully, she finally set the pistol down on her night stand...potentially making a fatal mistake. She was lucky he didn't favor killing women. She headed back to the kitchen and he settled himself onto her bed. The squeak of the springs made him wince. "I'm not even sure why I invited you up here," she mused. "I don't do this sort of thing every day, you know." "You invited me because you're lonely." She laughed, but the smile didn't stay on her face for long. "Why would you think that?" "You live alone, in an apartment where you don't have many visitors. You're away from your family. You spend your nights working with strangers just for a bit of companionship. There are no signs of a boyfriend. No birthday cards or trinkets that might be gifts from friends--" "What are you, a detective?" She crossed her arms. "And anyway, just because you're alone, that doesn't make you lonely." "No--" "Are *you* lonely, Alex?" He stared at her, unblinking. "No, Sabryn, I'm not." She narrowed her eyes a moment, before turning and removing the mug of steaming water from the microwave. He watched her work, with an economy of movement and a delicate touch that made her the artist she was. Setting a plastic bear-shaped honey bottle on the night stand, she handed him his tea. "Never would have pegged you for a tea man. Then again, that sounds a bit like an oxymoron." He couldn't resist taking a look at her grin, over the rim of the mug. As she settled herself down on the footstool opposite him, he had to wonder what the hell he was doing here. He knew what he really wanted from her, but he was a fool to think he was ever going to get it. "Just what do you do for a living, Alex?" "What would you say if I told you I'm a spy?" "I'd say someone's been watching too many Schwarzenegger movies." She tilted her head to the side. "But that doesn't mean you don't have the right look. That whole 'Man in Black' persona really works for you." Christ. He actually laughed. He hadn't heard the sound in so long, it was almost rusty. "So, Mr. Spy...just who are you spying on? If you're after Clinton's secrets, I'm afraid they're already out there." He had to clear his throat. "No, that man is just a figure head...no pun intended." The soft giggle that escaped her plush, glossy lips made the room feel about twenty degrees hotter. The dark ache centering in his groin grew that much more painful. She didn't tear away her silver-laced gaze when he looked at her, didn't cower in fear in his presence. But she didn't know who she was truly dealing with. If presented with his true face, she'd have no problem clarifying the blurred shapes in her perplexing abstract paintings. The startling images of malevolence and catastrophe, so foreign to her that she couldn't even contemplate their likeness on canvas, would be as clear as glass. "Believe me, you don't want to know the things I know. Not in a million years." "You're certainly full of mystery, I'll give you that." "Everyone has their secrets." "What about family? Is that too personal a question?" "What do you want to know?" "Is there a Mrs. Spy?" "No." "Oh, that's right. Spies don't fall in love. I bet you just skip around from one woman to the next, like James Bond, never settling down, never daring to get attached." "Pussy Galore?" he asked, wryly. The girl actually snorted, nearly choking on her own sip of tea. "Something like that." "Yeah, something like that." "Still, it's hard to believe a man doesn't get lonely living that kind of existence. No one to come home to at night. No one to trust. No one to love." He swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp, heedless of the scalding he gave his throat. Standing abruptly, he handed her his mug. "I should go." "Did I--um, yeah. It's getting late." "Th-Thank you for the tea." Sabryn set down both the mugs she was holding and held out her hand. "It was nice to have met you, Alex." He didn't give a damn about shaking her hand. Touching innocence wasn't enough. He wanted to consume her, possess her, be overwhelmed by her. Hold her, rock her, fuck her...destroy her. That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? The moment he let himself have her, he'd ruin her. He couldn't let that happen. And still.... And still, he wanted her. Brushing aside her outstretched hand, he grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her closer. Barely noticing the hands she shoved against his chest to stop the assault. Ignoring the look of shock and alarm in her pretty blue-gray eyes. Pressing his mouth to hers with a gentleness he didn't know he was capable of. When she quit fighting him, he knew he was screwed. Her mouth softened below him, opening slightly, reciprocating the kiss. And he had to stop before it was too late. He walked away from her, leaving her to breathlessly stumble without his support. He could feel her staring after him, but he didn't bother to look back. As he reached the door, he paused and flipped the button on the knob so the door would lock behind him. "You should really be more careful," he said, his head turned to the side. "The only men that aren't dead in this world are deadly." He didn't wait around for her response. He stepped out the door and down the stairs with bitter determination. Not looking back once. Wiping the image of her face from his mind. He stepped back into a world where he was on his own. Where he used people for his own selfish motives and didn't give a damn who he stepped on along the way. Didn't she get it? He wasn't lonely. No one else mattered. *** Part Two: Sabryn Summary: What price do we pay to keep our secrets? For Allison Elizabeth, with love. Special thanks to my beta girls, Ginny & Diadem. He rais'd a mortal to the skies, Sweat-damp sheets spilled onto the floor next to her, illuminated by the soft blue glow of her lap-top computer. Her eyes half-closed with exhaustion, Sabryn typed a silent communication to a friend she'd never met. Although she'd once sworn never to set foot in a chat room, boredom and insomnia had months ago led her to a conversation with a man who could sympathize. Now, alone in a one on one conversation with her friend, over instant messaging, she didn't feel quite so lonely. Although he only knew her as "Lailah," he knew more of her secrets than she could count.
Sabryn closed her lap top and sighed. Her friend was right. It was best that she just forget her visitor from the other night. He wasn't coming back. Tossing her sheets out of the way, thankful they'd dried of the perspiration she'd shed during the night, she settled back and stared at the lights dancing across her ceiling. She had to forget Alex...along with the sinful dreams of him that made her sweat far more than her usual nightmares. Saturday morning's sun flooded the loft like a broken dam, waking her from the only sleep she'd had all night. Without curtains on the massive wall of picture windows, she had no need for an alarm. Yawning, she stumbled out of bed and hurried to the bathroom to shower and change her clothes. She didn't bother with her hair, other than to pull it away from her face with an old scarf. Dressed in a ratty pair of sweat pants and a clean T-shirt, she slipped on her shoes, grabbed her bag, and headed out the door. The deli around the corner was her only stop before heading to the 6th Street Shelter. She pulled a plastic-wrapped sandwich from the cooler, along with a bottle of berry-flavored iced tea. As she stood in line to pay for her purchases, she couldn't help the urge to look over her shoulder. She could feel someone's gaze on her. Yet, as she turned around, she had to look down to see the person standing behind her. The little girl stared up at her with big brown eyes, twirling a sandy ringlet around her finger. Holding her mother's hand with barely the grip of two fingers. "Amanda, it's not polite to stare." Sabryn flinched a moment before she realized the woman wasn't talking to her. The girl's name was Amanda. She looked down at the little girl once more, only to see the child quickly avert her gaze. "Ma'am...can I help you?" Her attention torn away from the child, Sabryn blushed and moved up to the register. The same familiar teenager she saw every day rang up her bill. And just as always, she reached into her wallet to pull out the $2.25...only to realize she didn't have enough. She'd forgotten to stop at the ATM machine. Then again, it didn't really matter. She didn't have any money in the bank. She'd spent every penny from her last painting sold to pay for the rent on her apartment. Unless she sold another painting fast, things were going to get very desperate. She would have to--- No. She refused to even think about that. Turning a pleading look on the cashier, she said, "Do you take checks?" He shook his head, pointing to the sign on the register. "Sorry, no checks." "I'm sorry, I just...I'm short by a dollar and eighty-five cents. Is there any way you can put me on a tab? "No, I can't--" "I come here every day. You know I'll pay you back." Behind her, the woman with the little girl--Amanda--tapped her foot impatiently. "I'd be glad to help you, but my boss isn't here and I don't want to get in any trouble." Just as she was about to give up and return her food to the cooler, Sabryn started as someone brushed past her and tossed a five-dollar bill onto the counter. "Keep the change. Maybe next time you won't be so rude to your customers." Sabryn swallowed heavily, staring up at her generous benefactor. "Alex." He barely glanced at her. Grabbing a package of peanut butter crackers from the nearby rack, he turned around and headed back out the door...leaving Sabryn and the cashier staring after him. Quickly recovering from her surprise, she picked up her lunch and hurried after him. He was nearly to the end of the block by the time she caught up, breathless and clutching her side. "Will you slow down! My legs aren't as long as yours." "I didn't know I was supposed to be waiting for you." "Well you could at least give me a chance to say thank you." "I didn't do it to earn points with you. You were holding up the line and I'm in a hurry." She stopped walking, staring at the back of his head. But as he kept walking, she couldn't keep her gaze from drifting lower. She swallowed heavily, watching the way his jeans molded so nicely to his ass. My, my. There was no denying he was a handsome man. The first time she'd seen him, she'd been more intimidated by his looks than she was by the gun in her hand. His piercing green eyes looked far more deadly than any man-made weapon. But for all of his masculine beauty, he was the most aggravating man she'd ever met. "Well thank you so much for being so concerned about me, Mr. Spy!" When he didn't stop, she clenched her fist so hard she squished her sandwich. Taking a deep breath, she started after him once more. "You may not care about manners, but I do. Where I come from, when someone does you a favor, you give them your gratitude." Finally, he stopped. Turning slowly, he pinned her with his lethal gaze. "No one's stopping you." "Oh, for God's sake...thank you. I truly appreciate what you did and I intend to pay you back." "It's not necessary." "Well it would make me feel better." "You don't owe me anything." She regarded him carefully, finally noticing the way he never really met her eyes. "Did I do something--I get the feeling you don't like me." Something akin to a laugh escaped his lips as he started walking once more. "I don't like anyone." "Then why did you kiss me?" "Momentary lapse in brain function." She felt her mouth drop open. "Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just kiss me like that and then act like it's all my fault. If you'll remember right, I tried to stop you and you wouldn't let me." "Do you always talk this much?" "In fact," she continued, "this was all your fault. You're the one who followed me home. I should have called the cops and had your ass hauled off the jail for...for...stalking." He turned so fast she almost slammed right into him. "Yes, you should have, Sabryn. And if you know what's good for you, you'll walk away right now." Crossing her arms, she stared up at him unblinking. "Why should I? Is Dr. No going to get me and subject me to all sorts of mind-blowing tortures?" His voice was a barely audible, flesh-caressing whisper. "No, honey, but I just might." Standing there on shaking legs, shivering slightly in the brisk winter breeze, she watched him walk away. Not even daring to follow. *** Folding the wool blanket with absent-minded motions, Sabryn stared out the window at the slowly setting sun. The pile of laundered pillows and bed clothes next to her teetered precariously, but she barely even blinked. "Girl, what planet are you on?" Sucking in a sharp breath, she turned to see Olivia picking up a couple of pillows that had fallen to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking." "Certainly not of this task, if the smile on your face was any indication." Lord, she could feel her cheeks blazing. "I, uh...I didn't realize I was smiling." "It's a man, isn't it?" Olivia leaned her hip against the table and tilted her head to the side, sending a cascade of tiny braids falling over her shoulder. "I know that smile. Doesn't matter who's wearin' it." "Just thinking about the Brad Pitt movie I rented the other night." "Uh-huh...and I spend all my time daydreaming about Tom Cruise, too." She grinned, scratching her temple. "Well, actually, I do. But I don't smile like that." Sabryn set down the last blanket and took a deep breath. Although Olivia was a friend, they weren't all that close. They knew very little about each other, outside of the shelter, and Sabryn wasn't accustomed to talking about herself. But she needed to talk to someone. "I'm in trouble, Livie." "What kind of trouble?" "I met a man--" "Yep, that's trouble." "No, you don't understand." She licked her lips, trying to decide how best to word what she wanted to say. "I'm not good at dealing with this kind of situation. There are just things about me that...that I would be scared to tell a man like this. Things about my past." Olivia nodded, obviously aware that she wasn't going to get anything more out of her. "And you're serious about this man?" Sabryn had to laugh. "No, of course not. He's arrogant, rude, ill-mannered, impatient, secretive--" "You like him." "No." "That's not what I'm hearing." "Then you're not listening very well. I just--" She rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the ache that had suddenly developed. "I'm trying to think of the future. If not this man, there is sure to be some man who will want to know about my past, and I have no idea what to say." "If you love him, and he loves you, then you'll tell him. It's as simple as that." "Maybe you're right." "Of course I am. I'm always right." Sabryn grinned, picking up the stack of linens and taking them to the nearest cot. As she started to unload the stack, one by one on each bed, Olivia followed with the accompanying pillows. "So, who is this arrogant man?" "A friend, Livie. He's just a friend." *** After a dinner of cold, leftover pizza, Sabryn sat on her bed surfing the web. She was bored out of her mind. Her internet friend wasn't on-line, and she'd had her fill of fan fiction for the week. There was nothing on TV, and she refused to call her brother without something to discuss. He'd just tell her he told her so...he'd said she couldn't handle living alone. Well, she could handle it just fine. She just needed a little entertainment. She briefly considered going down the bar where she'd once seen Alex exiting, but she didn't have any money and he'd made it clear that he didn't want her around. She didn't need to be told twice. Still, it didn't stop the slight hurt she'd felt at his words. Why did men always have to be so rude? In the end, she closed down her computer and went to bed. Silently praying for a peaceful night's sleep, she settled under the covers and closed her eyes. Yet, when sleep finally came, the peace didn't last for long. She is running, the cool spring air whipping her hair out behind her and plastering her nightgown to her thin legs. Ahead of her, her brother laughs menacingly, holding her teddy bear just out of reach, daring her to catch him. Dried wheat stalks, brown and mottled black from the winter freeze, cut into her bare feet, pushing woody slivers into her numb flesh. She is crying, but more out of frustration than fear or sadness. Her brother is a bully, but she cannot tell her mama, or she'd be nothing but a big baby. Johnny races up the hill, cackling evilly, taunting her with the threat of throwing her precious bear into the creek. The pale, smiling moon is high in the sky. She has never been out this late in her papa's fields and the dense black velvet shadows frighten her senseless. She still believes in the boogie man, and if not for her need to feel like a big girl she never would have pestered her parents into letting her camp out with her brother. If only she hadn't cried.... Reaching the crest of the hill, her ten-year-old brother takes one look at the ratty stuffed animal is his hand and pitches it into the water below. With the sodden plop, she screams. Scrambling past him, she darts into the water, unaware of the change until she is already ankle deep. The creek is warm. Steaming hot, like bath water, on a chilly April night. The damp edge of her nightgown brushes her skinny leg and she shudders. Behind her, she can hear Johnny's laughter come to a sudden halt. And there is no noise. It's as if God turned down the volume on the world. Pulling her dripping teddy bear from the mud and clutching it to her chest, she stares up at the night sky with trepidation. The warm water under her, combined with the sight above her makes her want to wet her pants. She calls for her brother, but no sound leaves her throat. She tries to spot him behind her, but he is lost in blinding light. She tries to move, but is frozen in place. Out of nowhere, something hits her hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of her, slamming her to the ground, splashing water all over her and soaking her clothes. And yet, she doesn't stay down. The last thing she hears is her fearless, domineering brother, screaming her name in utter terror. "Mandy!" Sabryn awoke with a scream, doubling over in her bed with the urge to vomit. The dream was always the same, and she never remembered it all, but it always left her with the same feeling--inescapable fright. Her stomach clenched, and every muscle aching, she climbed out of the wet mass of sheets and made her way to the bathroom. Once in the darkened space, she lowered herself to the cool floor and struggled to control her pounding heart. Leaning her forehead against the cold porcelain toilet, she fought her nausea with the same determination as a hangover victim. No one else she knew had such powerful nightmares...then again, they weren't just dreams, were they? Memories, struggling desperately to break free from the tangled web of her mind. At the age of seven, she'd faced something so horrible her mind was afraid to remember it all. For years afterwards, she'd been taunted by class mates, shunned by potential boyfriends, made a laughingstock of her small town, and treated as a liar by her own family. All for a moment she couldn't recall. That April night, Amanda Megan Pruitt died...and Sabryn Jaegar was born. When the sickness passed and she could stand once more, she slipped off her baseball jersey and got into the shower. The chilly water slid down her flesh, washing away the last tired traces of the night. Cleansing her of the ache as well. Minutes later, dressed in an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt, she turned on the coffee pot. She readied her canvas and began to draw. Ignoring the darkness outside, before the dawn. Sweeping her gaze across the canvas, seeing the complete picture in her mind. And when the outline was done, she began to paint. Her eyelids were drooping by the time the light began to fill her apartment. She painted long into the morning, unaware of anything but the canvas, resigning herself to cold coffee once she added the finishing touches. With a thinned bit of red, she signed her name at the bottom and stood back to survey her work. She stared into Alex's eyes, smiling slightly at her choice of color. The Phthalocyanine green caught every nuance perfectly. Standing in shadows as mysterious as his gaze, reaching forward with a beseeching hand, he looked as if he might step right out of the painting. She laughed softly. "And wouldn't I shit if he did just that." With one last glance, she set down her paint palate and set about cleaning her brushes. It was becoming a beautiful day...and as she stared absently out the window at the street below, she caught a glimpse of her subject staring up at her building as he leaned against the street lamp across the way. She had to blink to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her. Was that really Alex? "Huh. Will wonders never cease." Without wasting time, she picked up her keys and headed for the door. "He doesn't care about anyone, my ass." *** Part Three: Human Touch Summary: When does loneliness become too much to endure? For Ginny, who's never seen a Krycek ep but still loves him anyway. Special thanks to Diadem, my cheering section extraordinaire. The belief that there is only one truth, and that oneself is in possession of it, is the root of all evil in the world. She tip-toed down the stairs, her bare feet crowned with toenails painted a garish purple, looking disheveled and exhausted. Still, there was a sly little smirk playing about her lips and a glitter in her eyes that he was coming to know all too well. Stuffing her keys in the pocket of her paint-spattered jeans, she glided across the deserted street and headed straight towards him. A woman on a mission. He wasn't sure whether to stand his ground or head for the hills. She was nothing but trouble. So why the fuck couldn't he stay away from her? "Why, Alex, I do believe you're spying on me." She looked absurdly proud of herself after that comment. "May I ask why?" "You ask a lot of questions about me. I have a right to be suspicious." "Oh, I see. You think I want something from you. State secrets and government intrigue. Or could it be that, just maybe--shock, horror!--I'm just trying to get to know you? To make a friend?" "I don't need any friends." She nodded, licking her lips. "And that explains why you're standing in front of my apartment this early in the morning." Christ, did she ever stop talking? "I was walking past and saw the light on. I was curious." "Curiosity killed the cat...quite literally, in fact. My cat was killed when he was trying to find mice in our neighbor's field. He ate poison and died." She examined her fingernail a moment, before meeting his gaze once more. "You just happened to be walking past my apartment this early in the morning?" "I had business." "Spy business. Sounds like fun. Can I come along some time?" This really had been a mistake. True, he'd had business in the area, but he'd had no excuse for stopping here. Not really. He'd told her the truth when he'd said he was suspicious of her, that he wondered just what compelled her to ask so many questions about him, but that wasn't everything. It wasn't just her that was a mystery to him, it was his attraction to her. He'd been with plenty of women more beautiful than her. More exciting, mysterious, intelligent, powerful. But they'd all wanted something from him. They'd used him. Maybe it was that more than anything that kept him coming back to Sabryn's door. She seemed, for all intents and purposes, innocent. And some masochistic part of him wanted to prove once and for all that she wasn't. "I don't think you want to play the games I play," he said finally, chewing on the corner of his lip. "And how do you know what I want? You don't take the time to get to know me. You don't seem to like me, anyway." "I never said that." She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Talking to you is about as confounding as consulting a Magic 8-ball." "You're going to freeze to death if you keep walking around barefoot in the middle of winter." Looking down at her feet, she winced. "Damn it. I didn't even realize." With a smile, she added, "I was painting you." "You were what?" "Painting your portrait. It's really strange, because I've never done a portrait before...at least not a real portrait. I've painted my dog, and my cat...before he died. But I never painted a person before. I don't even know what compelled me--" She rambled on, totally unaware that he'd stopped listening to her. "Show it to me." "Hmm?" "Show me the painting." She suddenly flushed bright red. "Oh...ok." Alex followed her up those stairs once more, glancing quickly at the street around them, not even completely sure what he was looking for. And glad he didn't spot it. It took him a moment to recognize the pounding of his heart and ringing in his ears as panic. It was an emotion he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He waited impatiently as she unlocked the door, flexing his right hand in and out of an involuntary fist. A habit it was useless trying to break. When she opened the door and he caught sight of the wet paint, the smell of fresh acrylic, he let out his breath. He wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting. Some cultures believed that taking one's picture would capture their soul on film. But he wasn't superstitious enough to think the same could happen on canvas. He hadn't been preparing himself to see a pitchfork and a pair of horns. And yet, it shocked the hell out of him to see what he did. She hadn't painted him dressed in black like Death come alive, nor had she placed a gun in his outstretched hand. Instead of painting him as the spy and murderer he was, she pictured him as an ordinary man. Standing in foggy shadows, like those of a dream. Reaching out for someone, with almost hopeful eyes. Wearing pure, unsullied white. Innocent. Clean. Human. He had to fight the urge to laugh. Hell, she didn't know him at all. Even so, she had to trash the damned thing. His face was easily recognizable, and he no more wanted it trapped on canvas than he wanted to see it on a surveillance video. "You have to get rid of it." "What? This took me hours." "What the hell possessed you to paint me anyway? Torch the damned thing." "Over my dead body." He stepped past her, standing just before the painting. "The eyes are all wrong, anyway. Too blue." Completely ignoring her shriek of protest, he stuck his finger in the wet paint and smeared a squiggly line across his own angelic face. "You asshole!" "You're just now beginning to figure that out?" He grabbed the damp rag below the easel and wiped the paint off his finger. "Believe me, I just saved you a lot of trouble." "You can't just walk into someone's home and destroy their hard work." "I do whatever the hell I want to, sweet heart." She looked like she wanted to hit him, with every ounce of her soul, but to her credit she didn't make a move. "You know I can just repaint it. I'll do it over a million times if I have to." "You stubborn little--" "And don't you forget it." Slamming the door shut, she stalked over to the kitchen. A quick inspection of her bread made her wrinkle her nose, just before she threw it in the garbage. "I'm hungry. Did you want something to eat?" "Like what?" "Well, at the moment, macaroni and cheese is all I have." He should have grabbed the remains of the mutilated painting and left. Walked as far away from her as he could, and never looked back. Against his better judgment, he stayed. "Macaroni and cheese, it is." She eyed him with something related to disdain. "Are you sure you don't want Filet Mignon, Mr. Spy?" "You said it was all you had." "I was just making sure you didn't want me to go to the market or something." "You don't have any money." "That's right, so if you've come up here looking for your five dollars, you're going to be disappointed." "I told you that you didn't owe me anything." "Then what do you want? Surely you didn't come up here just to destroy my painting?" He was silent for a long time, casually making his way to the only sitting place in the apartment. And when he lowered himself onto the bed, and met her stare with half-closed eyes, he could almost hear the sudden intake of her breath. "I think you know exactly what I want from you." It was a remark meant to startle her, to take some of the bravado out of her smug expression...but it was her response that truly provoked shock. In Alex. "So why don't you take it? I'm not afraid of you." Suddenly without words, he settled back against her pillow and watched her work. As she ran water in the pan and opened the box of pasta, she completely ignored him. Letting him do as he would. And God, it was almost erotic. She was daring him to take her. All he had to do was seize what she'd offered. Grab her, throw her down on the squeaky bed and fuck her senseless. Hell, make her speechless. That'd be a first. Staring at her over the length of his supine body, he couldn't help but grin at his own arousal. And it finally dawned on him. The girl made him feel alive. For the first time in years. She made his breath quicken, his heart race. Not just the thrill of the hunt, or some sexual gratification. She made him feel human by her very defiance. Sure, maybe she was using him, and he was definitely using her...but this time it wasn't malicious. It wasn't life or death. He just wanted her. The tension drained from his body, slipping away like a tremulous shiver. His head sank into the softness of her pillow, surrounding him with the scent of her mint shampoo. And yet that wasn't all. He could smell her, every little nuance, warm and spicy against his skin. He breathed in deeply, wanting to drag that smell down to the depths of his soul. That musky, earthy scent that was so sexual...and so pure all at the same time. He had to fight the growl that burned in his throat. Tried to ignore the feel of her sheets against his touch. The sound of her soft sigh as she waited for the water to boil was almost enough to make him scream. How long had it been since he'd been in a woman's bed? He couldn't remember if it had ever happened. Parked cars, couches, beaches, public rest rooms...hell, he'd even fucked a woman in a Russian tanker ship. He scowled at the memory. But not once had he ever been in a bed like this. Even so, it was so easy to imagine himself here, legs tangled with hers, slick with sweat, bed-springs squeaking a rhythmic protest as he pounded himself into her over and over again. Her head thrown back in ecstasy, her fingernails digging into his clenching ass, her lips parting for one single word- "Alex?" Snapped out of his reverie, he met her bored stare. "Yeah?" "Do you want salt and pepper?" He hadn't realized she'd finished so quickly. Sitting up, he scooted back against the headboard, despite the objection of his too-tight jeans. "No, I don't." She handed him the bowl, full of steaming bright-orange macaroni, barely giving him a chance to grasp the dish before she moved away. Sitting carefully on the end of her bed, out of his reach, she tentatively took a bite. A moment later, he did the same. Whoever would have thought he'd be sitting here with this girl, eating food he hadn't tasted since his childhood? Taking his second bite, he glanced up at her and found her staring at his hand. With the bowl in his lap, and his right hand wrapped around the fork, his left hand was immobile at his side. As it almost always was. Covered in a black leather glove. Sabryn quickly averted her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stare." "I've gotten used to people staring." She chanced another look at the prosthesis he wore. "Would I be rude in asking when it happened?" "Almost three years ago." "There is a man at the shelter who lost his hand in an industrial accident. He was right-handed, and had to learn to do things all over again. And even though it's not supposed to be legal, he lost his job because of it." She licked her lip. "Did that happen to you?" "No. My arm was cut off in Russia, to save me from medical experimentation." She raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. All you had to say was you didn't want to talk about it." "Fine. I don't want to talk about it." Her eyelids drooping, she sighed heavily and lay down across the bottom of the bed. Picking at her food with the sharp tines of her fork, she gave him a bored look. "You're one of the strangest people I've ever met, you know." "The feeling's mutual." "Still, I like you. You're interesting...in a stay-out-of-my-business, I'm-a-top-secret-spy-man sort of way." He shook his head, biting back the little smirk that tugged at his lips. "Why were you up so early this morning?" She yawned, her eyes growing moist in the corner. "I don't sleep much." "Nightmares?" "All the time...well, when I'm not dreaming of you." "Me?" She blushed, laying her head down on her arm. "Nothing too exciting." He had a feeling that was an understatement. She wouldn't meet his gaze with those sleepy eyes. "Ever since I was a little girl, I've always had the same dream," she whispered, fighting to keep her eyes open. "And it still scares me every time." "A dream about what?" "Mmm...it's starts out in my daddy's field, with my brother Johnny..." "And?" This time, she didn't open her eyes again. Breathing deep and even, she was fast asleep on the end of her bed, lying so close that he could have nudged her with his foot. Her hand was still curled around her fork, her food sitting forgotten in front of her. A tiny wisp of her hair blew up with her every exhalation. Alex watched her for a moment, waiting for the moment when she would return to lucidity once again, but that moment didn't come. Careful of the squeaking mattress, he eased himself off the bed one limb at a time. Extracting the fork from her fingers, he picked up her bowl and took the dishes to the sink. And once he was sure she was still sleeping, he set to work. Starting with the night stand by her bed, the most dangerous of places considering where she lay, he began searching her apartment. Moving with deft silence, with stealthful movements that barely made a sound. She slept on undisturbed, completely unaware that her life was now an open book. He wasn't even sure what the hell he was looking for...but his attraction to the girl made him suspicious in the least. And he wasn't about to set himself up to be ambushed. If she had secrets, he wanted to know about them now. He was determined to be one step ahead of the game. He flipped through her magazines carefully, looking for any hidden papers or documents. Picking up the prescription bottles on her night stand, he found two different sedatives and something for nausea. She kept a box of chocolates in the top drawer, along with an unopened box of condoms. He had to chance a look at her face with that last revelation. At least the girl was smart. At the very bottom of the drawer, he found a worn picture of a little girl holding the hand of a man dressed in a suit. They were both smiling, standing in front of an old barn. Holding a scruffy teddy bear in her other hand, the girl looked to be about five or so. And she looked an awful lot like the woman sleeping on the bed behind him. Flipping the picture over, he read the names written on the back. Steven and Amanda Megan. With one last glance at the picture, he put it away and moved on. A search of the cupboards produced nothing out of the ordinary. They were almost bare. In the last drawer, next to the phone, he found an address book. It was almost bare as well. Most of the numbers written down were for pizza and Chinese food delivery. She'd written down the number for the shelter she volunteered at, and several art galleries in the area. But the only personal numbers in the whole book were for an Olivia Jordan, and Johnny...her brother. The sudden emptiness of her life filled him with unexpected regret. He almost felt guilty. But like so many times before, he refused to let the emotion last for long. He quickly searched through the cases of paper back books. From the looks of things, the girl did a lot of reading. Everything from Dean Koontz to romance to Calvin and Hobbes. Her video collection was nearly as impressive. At least she was well entertained in her own company. His last search took him to the area of the loft that served as her bathroom. Her medicine cabinet was neat and orderly. Several tubes of toothpaste. Antacids. Emotrol for an upset stomach. Deodorant, tampons, shampoo, soap, floss, fluoride rinse. Nothing out of the ordinary. No birth control pills. The cabinet next to the sink obviously made up for her lack of a dresser. Her clothes were neatly folded and stacked, next to a colorful array of towels. The silky little bits of fabric that passed for her underwear caught more than a moment of his attention. But just as he was about to close the cabinet door, he heard the soft sound of a whimper coming from the bed. He froze for a moment, sure that she was awake, but when the sound persisted, followed by the rustle of sheets, he knew what was happening. Stepping out of the bathroom, he caught sight of Sabryn, lying on her side at the end of the bed. Just as before, but this time her hands had a violent, white-knuckled grip on the sheet below her. Her hair was spread out beside her, tangled across her face. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, fueling the eerie little cries that escaped her parted lips. Alex stood motionless, knowing it was best not to intervene. The chances were she would keep on sleeping and not even remember the dream. But the sudden piercing intake of her breath, followed by a wrenching sob, was too much for him to ignore. Stepping closer, he reached out with his right hand to brush the hair from her face. Her eyelids fluttered, lashes sweeping his flesh in rapid spasms. Pulling the damp strands from her forehead, he let his fingers trail across her skin, unaware of his own soft murmur until she finally opened her eyes. She twitched below his touch, before settling back to the mattress and letting out a shaky breath. Swallowing heavily, she closed her eyes once more. Seeming to fight the moisture that clung to those long lashes. And before he could move away, she grasped his hand and held on tight. The strength of her grip. The warmth of her hand. The rapid pulse beating under his finger tip. The softness of her skin and the light perfume of her body just inches from his. Her touch, so human and welcoming. It was enough to make his chest ache. To bring an awful, tight, crushing, collapsing pain to his lungs. He couldn't breathe, and yet...and yet the air around him tasted so fucking sweet. She turned her head and looked up at him, a slight smile curving her lips. "You have nice hands...I mean...a nice hand." When he didn't say a word, she continued. "Not callused, like my dad's. Not a worker's hand. But not really soft either. Strong. Determined. Long fingers...you know, they call these artist's fingers. Funny. I'm the painter, and my fingers are short and clumsy. But your fingers...your hand...there's just something beautiful about it." His fumbling brain finally found a moment of clarity. "I should go." She acted as if she hadn't heard him. "Thank you. It was nice to wake up to a comforting face." Sitting up carefully, she pushed her hair over her shoulder and took a look around. From him to the loft, and then back again. "Well, if you have to go, I won't stop you." Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded and headed for the door. Just as he'd opened it, and flipped the switch so it would lock behind him, he heard her say, "And if you were looking for my journal...it's on my lap top, Alex." *** Part Four: As Heaven Is Wide Summary: Who would dare betray the betrayer? For Bori. Thanks for being such a dear friend, and always knowing how to put a smile on my face faster than Godiva's Pecan Caramel Truffle ice cream. No man chooses evil because it is evil; Assaulted by loud music and the smell of sweaty smoke-ridden bodies, Alex pushed his way through the crowd. Gorgeous girls, barely dressed and shimmering in the flashing lights, pressed up against him, trying to entice him to dance. The pulse of the song, vibrating through his body from his head to his feet, was about as drugging as the heavy fog of marijuana and tobacco smoke lingering in the air. He might have stopped to take advantage of the women offering themselves to him so freely, but he barely noticed them. Purposefully making his way to the back of the club, staring directly at his target through the mirrored lenses of his wrap-around sunglasses, Alex lightly caressed the delicate piece of machinery in his pocket. Sitting alone in a shadowed booth far from the crowd, Walter Skinner looked more than a little uncomfortable. Wearing a T-shirt and wind breaker, a far cry from his FBI regulation suit and tie, he was obviously working on his second drink for the night. It wasn't surprising that the man was unsettled. Alex literally held his life in his hand. Upon spotting him, Skinner slid a large Manila envelope across the table. Alex didn't sit down, nor did he touch the envelope. He merely stared, intimidating the man with an icy gaze he could no doubt feel, but couldn't see. "I got what you asked for, Krycek. Can I go now?" Finally relinquishing his control of the palm pilot in his pocket, Alex flipped open the envelope and spilled its contents on the table. "Jesus, do you have to do that here?" "What's wrong, Skinner? Afraid someone might see you handing over Top Secret documents to the enemy?" "You son-of-a-bitch. You had me go behind the backs of people who trust me, and for what? Information on smallpox inoculations. What the hell do you want with this stuff, Krycek?" "You know what you need to know." "This is for 'him' isn't it? C.G.B. Spender? He didn't die at El Rico like the others, did he?" Satisfied that all the evidence he'd asked for was present, Alex slipped the documents back in the envelope. One step closer. True, he had no problem fucking with Skinner. The man was of no consequence to him. But as long as he was useful, Alex planned on keeping him on a tight leash. And completely in the dark. He didn't need to know anything more than he already did. And besides, the Assistant Director was a hell of a lot of fun to toy with. "What do you care, Skinner? You got the X-Files reopened. If you're so worried about Spender, have your agents find him." "Even if you did tell me where to find him, I'd never believe you. You're a pathological liar." Alex had to grin. He couldn't deny it. Lies served him well, as long as he kept his story straight. Still, Skinner was no saint either. "I'll be in contact when I need you again." "What does it mean, Krycek? First nano-technology that almost kills me just to prove some point...now smallpox. What the hell are you planning?" He didn't bother to answer. He had the man under his thumb, and didn't give a shit about his complaints. One day he'd tell Skinner exactly what was going on, when the moment was right. When it served his purpose. Until then, he left him sitting there in that dark booth, drowning in scorching whisky, deafening music, and his own misery. She wasn't sure quite how many days had past since she'd last seen Alex, but as Sabryn sat on the roof of her apartment catching the last rays of the dying sun, she missed him. Her lap top computer sat open on her thighs, the cursor blinking at her impatiently. The small patio area on the roof, accessible from the fire escape outside her window, was a nice place to escape...if one didn't mind the smell of hot tar in the summer time. These days, with the long winter nights, she barely ever made it up here. Night was the one time she would never set foot on the roof. Releasing her lip from the brutal grasp of her teeth, she finally typed a message into the small window and hit send.
Sabryn closed her lap top, unable to stifle her grin. Even so, she was nervous. Meeting her friend would be a big step. She didn't even know his name. But the little she did know about him was comforting. He understood her past better than anyone. He was truly interested in getting to know her, and wanted to hear her story...not to laugh at her or ridicule, but in hopes of understanding her better. It was the first time in her life she felt truly accepted. Picking up her empty water glass and her computer, she started to make her way to the fire escape, only to freeze in mid-motion. She could hear someone climbing up the ladder. Only accessible to the street by pushing something under it and climbing up, the fire escape was only really convenient to her apartment. She swore under her breath, wishing she'd thought to bring her gun with her. She had the urge to yell out "freeze," but she had nothing to back up her command. Backing away from the ladder, she was about to find a place to hide when she saw the unruly thatch of dark blond hair. She let out a heavy groan and dropped her armload back onto the lawn chair. "Damn it, Johnny, you scared the shit out of me!" He peeked over the low wall surrounding the roof and gave her a guilty smile. "Sorry. I yelled, but I guess you didn't hear me." "I gave you that key for emergencies, not so you could break into my house." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of bills. "I thought this was an emergency. You need rent money, don't you?" She literally squealed, rushing over to him as finally stepped onto the roof, and hugged him until he was nearly choking. "Oh, God, thank you! You have no idea what a life saver you are." Suddenly pulling back from him, she looked him in the eye. "But what about Carly and the kids?" "This money isn't from me, it's from Mom and Dad. They wired it to me this morning." Sabryn backed away from him altogether. "Mom and Dad?" "Mandy, I know you said you didn't want to take money from them--" "Don't call me that." "Sorry...Bryn. They're worried about you, you know." "They could have been a hell of a lot more worried a long time ago, but they didn't give a damn about me then." "They're old fashioned people living in an old fashioned town. What did you expect?" "I expected to be believed, God damn it!" "Don't yell at me, I'm on your side." She collapsed onto the lawn chair, burying her head in her hands. "I'm sorry. I'm just so angry. I don't want anything from them but respect, but that's the one thing they won't give." He knelt down in front of her, running a hand over her hair. "I know, Bryn. It's not fair, and I'm not defending them...but you need the money. Take it. Pay your rent, and when you sell another painting, you can pay them back and not worry about it again." She met his gaze with burning eyes, fighting the suffocating knot in her throat. "Fine." "They do love you, no matter what they believe about that night." Sabryn merely looked away, unable to bear his piercing stare. Clearing his throat, he stroked her hair once more before gingerly settling down onto the bird-dropping speckled folding chair next to her. "I saw your new painting down there. Who is he?" Uh-oh. Johnny was curious. That was never a good sign. "Just a friend, John." "You certainly didn't paint him like a friend." She had to laugh. "Oh really? And how did I paint him, naked and tangled in sheets?" "Have you seen him naked and tangled in sheets?" She gasped, punching him in the arm. "No, I haven't, but I'm sure he'd look wonderful!" "Does this 'friend' have a name?" he asked, rubbing his arm. "Alex." "Just Alex? Like Cher?" "I don't know his last name." "Hmm." Sabryn could almost see the wheels turning in her brother's head. "And yet you painted him anyway. What does he do for a living?" "I don't know." Johnny's eyebrows rose. "I imagine I don't have to tell you to be careful." "I'm not stupid. I keep my gun loaded, like a good little soldier." "This isn't funny, Bryn. I'm serious." "So am I. I'm twenty-five years old, John. You don't have to keep treating me like that little seven-year-old." "I'm just watching out for you," he said, standing up. "That's what big brothers do." Sabryn followed him to the fire escape, carrying her computer, grabbing his arm before he started for the ladder. Pulling him into her embrace, she planted a kiss on his cheek. "I know, and I thank you. You've always believed in me." "And I always will." Pulling away, he grasped the ladder and started climbing down. Waiting until he got halfway down, she did the same. He stood on the fire escape below her, and grasped her waist to steady her as she got closer to the bottom. Taking the computer from her, he held her wrist as she stepped inside the window and then followed her into the apartment. Sitting in the cab of the jet black Dodge Durango, Alex stared up at the fire escape with his jaw clenched. Irrational anger burned like acid in his throat, filling his stomach with flames of rage. And even though the platform two stories above the street now stood empty, he could still see her standing there. Her arms around a tall blond man, her perfect lips brushing his cheek. He could see the man's hands on her as she climbed down the ladder. So possessive. So familiar. So fucking nauseating. So much for innocence. Logic told him to start the truck and go. To forget what he'd seen along with the girl. But bitter vengeance made him want to rip the man in half. Still, he'd been betrayed enough times to know that wouldn't help matters any. And more importantly, the girl meant nothing to him. He'd been suspicious about her interest in him, but now he knew truth. She already had a lover. Her interest in him had been purely "professional." She wanted something from him. And he'd be damned if he didn't find out exactly what it was. Despite the urge to rush into things, he waited until the other man left. Stepping out of the stairwell and climbing into a beige sedan, he didn't look the type to carry on a torrid sexual relationship. But appearances could be deceptive. Releasing his tight grip on the steering wheel, Alex opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He shut the door behind him and set the alarm with his key chain. His long strides took him across the street and up the stairs in seconds. Sabryn had barely closed the door when she was nearly startled out of her skin by the loud pounding. Her gaze skipped to the box under her bed, containing her pistol, but she decided against it. In all likelihood, Johnny had just forgotten something. "Who is it?" "Alex." Her heart fluttered in her chest like a bird trying to beat its way out of a cage. Her fingers fumbled as she quickly turned the lock and opened the door. She winced at the shakiness of her own voice, as she said, "Long time, no see." "I'm sure you were just waiting for me to return." Tugging absently on the thick braid of hair resting on her shoulder, she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. "I'm afraid that if you've come to demolish my painting again, the paint is already dry." "There's more than one way to destroy something." Sabryn felt an absurd little shiver at the sound of his voice. There was something almost dangerous on the edge of that husky whisper, something lethal in the dark glitter of his eyes. She ignored the silly impulse to take a step backwards. She couldn't remember ever being quite so uncomfortable in his presence before. His gaze swept over her face in an almost palpable caress. But he didn't make a move towards her. "Who was he?" "Who?" "You know who I'm talking about. The man that just left here." "Spying on me again?" "Who was he, Sabryn?" "My brother, Johnny. Not that it's any of your business." "He had blond hair." "That's right. He takes after our father. Any more questions, Spy Man? Do you want me to take a lie detector test?" "You little smart ass." She barely had an indication of what he had in mind before she was dragged from where she was standing and slammed against the solid wall of his chest. Her fingers encountered the buttery-soft leather of his jacket, and she couldn't help the little fists she made in the fabric. Toe to toe with him, she could barely see over his shoulder without lifting herself up. Staring up into his potent gaze, she didn't bother holding back the shiver that raced up her spine. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his breath stirring the hair over her forehead. "I hate to tell you this, but you're the one who grabbed me." "You talk too much." "Yeah, well you're no GQ Man Of The Year, but you don't hear me complaining about it." "I don't like you." Judging from the sensation of his jeans pressing so tightly against her stomach, that was one hell of a lie. Fine. She could play along. "I don't like you, either." The words were barely out of her mouth before her lips were smothered beneath his own. She closed her eyes, surrendering to his voracious appetite. Her fingers clenched his jacket, holding on for dear life. Kissing Alex was about as sweet and innocent as a tornado. He bit and sucked at her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with the slightest parting of her lips. His right hand slid down her back, his fingers curving under her ass and lifting her up the length of his body. Christ, he was strong. And determined. The moment she wrapped her arms around his neck and hooked her ankles behind his legs, he was on the move. She didn't bother to pull away from the intoxicating kiss. She knew exactly where he was headed. Straight for the bed. *** Part Five: Fallen Summary: Lust and longing become to much to bear. For Marina, from one Krycekaholic to another. Special thanks to Ginny for standing by with the cattle prod to get my slacker self back in gear. NC17! If you are under age, please read no further. You've been warned! "It is one thing to be tempted, another thing to fall." It was only sex. And his heart was only beating so God-damned fast because he hadn't fucked a woman in months. Because she smelled so damned good, and felt so amazing beneath him as he pushed her down onto the creaking mattress. She tasted as sweet as chocolate, wrapped around him like a trailing limb of ivy. He could feel her bare foot sliding up his leg, teasing, tickling his denim-clad thigh. Her fingers tangled in his hair, fingernails lightly scraping the back of his neck until it almost made him growl. He wasn't quite sure what made him slow down, instead of plunging into her like a bat out of hell. Maybe it was the beyond-lustful look in her eyes. That wasn't just desire he was seeing there. It was something else, something he didn't want to put a name to. He tried to ignore it, to smother it as easily as he crushed her lips beneath his own. But ignoring the baby-powder fresh scent of her sheets wasn't as easy. Alex stripped off his jacket, dropping it to the floor without heed. His boots were ripped off with the same careless effort, one at a time, in between kisses from her soft ripe mouth. And the moment his feet were finally bare, he settled his weight on top of her and ground himself into every soft curve of her body. A strange orange glow from the setting sun spilled across the bed, rippling over the pearl-white sheets, glittering on her dark hair like bits of gold. Her flushed skin turned the color of rich cream, all the more tempting him to explore her rapidly rising and falling chest. Mining that gorgeous mouth and feeling her little moans vibrate against his lips made him horny as hell, but he was ready to explore. Bracing himself on his prosthetic arm, a barely tolerable sensation even when he was as turned on as now, he slid his right hand down between them and began popping open the buttons of her sweater. Just on the edge of his vision, he could see her turn her head and close her eyes...the flush creeping over her cheeks nearly as pink as the bra he was uncovering. Even so, her embarrassment couldn't hide her excitement. She nearly bucked him right off the bed when he took one of those perked nipples into his mouth. Wet lace and the taste of her, mixed with the slight trace of perfume. Deep panting, spasming breaths leaving her throat. Her fingers clenching in his hair, threatening to rip the strands right out of his head. Her back arching, pushing herself harder against his mouth. She was about to lose it, and he'd barely even touched her. Glancing up at her face, he met her wide blue eyes...and it was suddenly as clear as glass. He hadn't been wrong about her innocence. He just hadn't known *how* innocent she truly was. *** Sabryn dropped her hand from his hair, sensing the change in his demeanor. A ripple of panic seized her chest. It was just like before. Now that he'd teased, he was going to leave exactly like the few boys before him. None of them had truly wanted her either. They'd just wanted to laugh at the town freak. She was about to push away from him, to open the door and order him to get out, when he startled her by opening the top button of her jeans. Holding her breath, sucking in her stomach in a pathetic attempt to make her jeans look a little less tight, she watched him ease the zipper down to the bottom. He wasn't stopping. Not even close. A moment later he began easing the denim off of her hips. Her breath shuddered out of her mouth with the wet suction of his mouth on her ear lobe. She lifted her hips, nearly flinching at the touch of his hand on her ass. Aside from his clothing, there was nothing between them but a flimsy layer of lace and satin. *This can't be happening to me...* It was becoming hard to keep her eyes open. When her jeans were finally pushed down far enough, she kicked free of them and let them fall to the floor. Lying across her bed, with a great deal of his long legs hanging off the bed, he pressed tight against her body and peeled her unbuttoned sweater from her arms. *If only Mama could see me now...* Sabryn almost laughed out loud. Bernadette Pruitt would have an apoplectic fit if she knew what her daughter was doing right now. If she knew who her little Amanda Megan was with. This man would be her mother's worst nightmare. A stranger, dark and dangerous, with no past and no known future. A man who didn't give a damn about anyone and most likely lived off of one night stands. A self-proclaimed "spy" and no doubt a liar. Hell yes, Mama would hate him. And that only made Sabryn want him all the more. All her life she'd been a good little girl, and it had gotten her nowhere. She'd been doubted and ridiculed, turned into the family embarrassment. But she wasn't home now, and no one knew her here. She didn't give a damn about being good anymore. This time, if she was going to get blamed for something, she was going to make it worth while. She was going to get fucked by the bad boy. "You don't have to treat me like a doll. I'm not going to break." "I didn't know I was." She pulled his hand from where it was resting on her hip and dragged it up to cover her breast. "Touch me. This may be a first for me, but I was kind of hoping it would be good." His eyes narrowed for a moment, in obvious defiance to the challenge. But it wasn't long before he took the bait. Yet instead of caressing his fingers over the cotton candy lace, he flicked open the catch between her breasts and pushed the bra out of the way. Catching her nipple between two fingers, he pinched hard enough to make her gasp. "Like this?" "S-Something like that." He lowered his head, rubbing the softness of his lips over her, before sucking her into his mouth once more with no impediments. The silky wet sweep of his tongue, combined with the delicious pulling power of his mouth sent lightning currents speeding through her veins. Made her fingers clench in the dark green cotton of his shirt. And when his right hand slid so slowly down the length of her torso to slip under the elastic of her panties, the shudder that passed through her made the entire bed shake. "Something like this?" he asked, his voice dangerously low as his fingers brushed the curls between her legs. She had to fight the urge to clamp the thighs together in embarrassment...or to push her hand down on top of his and show him just where to go. The latter won out in the end. "Mmm, yes." "What do you want, Sabryn?" She licked her lips. "I want you, inside me." His hand moved beneath her touch, his palm cupping her, his fingertips teasing the damp folds of her sex. Barely slipping inside and pulling out again, back and forth, in and out, making her arch her hips to follow his retreating fingers. Her finger nails dug into his arm, but he didn't even flinch. "Alex, please..." "Please what?" "More." He ground the heel of his hand against her harder, using the knuckle of his thumb to rub against the spot that made her want to scream. His fingers dipped deeper, the longest one slipping inside her and feeling much larger than she'd expected. Sabryn bit her lip, hopelessly caught in his heated emerald gaze. Her over-sensitized chest brushed against the textured fabric of his shirt, her legs tangled with the rough denim of his jeans, and delicious invasion of his fingers between her thighs was enough to leave her panting. And even though he was obviously aroused, there was little proof in the controlled expression on his face. It was only truly evident in his eyes. She was playing with fire. "For a girl who doesn't like me, you certainly are wet. You can't wait for me to fuck you, can you?" She had to be about as red as a strawberry. "So get on with it." The slow thrusting of his fingers suddenly stopped, and she nearly gasped. "Right here, in front of these big windows?" She looked over her shoulder, out the window at the building across the street. She'd thought about it plenty of times before. The other building had tinted glass...she had no idea if someone was watching her. It was part of the reason she dressed herself in the bathroom. "Someone could be watching us right now. Maybe even video taping the event...so they can watch my hand moving between your legs over and over again." The shudder ripping through her made him grin. "Does that excite you, baby?" He knew it did. He must have felt her thighs tighten around his wrist. "Do you want me to do it to you right here, with them watching?" Her throat suddenly dry, all she could do was nod. He pulled his hand out of her panties, shocking the hell out of her by popping his fingers into his mouth to clean off his fingers. She watched mutely as he sat up and opened the drawer of her night stand, pulling out the box of condoms she'd bought with courageous optimism the day she moved into her apartment. "I knew you'd been going through my things." "Just looking for your phone book." "Liar." He merely grinned. "You don't trust me, do you? Otherwise, you might have told me your last name." "It's Krycek. You never asked." "Nice to meet you, Alex Krycek." He reached for the edge of his shirt, baring a glorious expanse of taut stomach. A narrow line of dark hair ran down from his navel, disappearing beneath the waist band of his pants. Olivia had called it a treasure trail. Sabryn had to smile. Treasure indeed. With the hem of his shirt out of the way, she could see just how tight his jeans really were. Damn. She was surprised the man hadn't popped a seam. He peeled his shirt up and over his chest, pulling his right arm out of the sleeve before slipping it over his head. He met her gaze for a moment, pausing slightly, before carefully removing the garment altogether. The prosthesis he wore to replace his left arm wasn't pretty, but she certainly wasn't repulsed by it. He met her stare with arrogant challenge, almost as if daring her to comment or turn away. She did neither. "Do you want me to leave it on, or remove it?" Reaching out to touch the flesh colored plastic, she wrapped her fingers around his palm. "It doesn't matter to me. Whatever makes you more comfortable." He held her gaze for a moment, before moving from the bed and reaching for the button on his jeans. He stood facing her as he unzipped the pants and pushed them off his hips, letting them fall to the floor. The gray boxer-briefs he wore underneath received the same treatment. And all she could do was stare. He sure as hell wasn't a Playgirl centerfold. Hell no, he was real and potent and incredibly hard. She wasn't sure when she'd started to sink deeper into the mattress, but she had to fight the urge to back up. What the hell had she been thinking? She couldn't handle a man like this. Yet even as the thought crossed her mind, the burning heat centering deep within her was growing out of control. He still had that same controlled expression on his face...but his eyes were laughing at her. He pressed his knee onto the bed, and climbed onto the squeaking mattress until he was facing her. On his knees. Completely and utterly aroused. Ripping open the box of condoms, he pulled out one of the shiny foil packets and tore it open with his teeth. Centering the little rolled up piece of latex on the swollen head of his cock, he grabbed her hand before she could even form a protest. She sat there in stunned silence, watching him guide her fingers, feeling the throbbing heat of him below her touch as the thin sheath unraveled to cover him. And when he released her, she was still holding his cock in her hand. She swallowed heavily, letting her fingertips trace the rigid vein on the underside before sliding down to cup his heavy balls in a delicate grip. She could hear his breath catch in his throat. Shrugging her bra off of her shoulders, she let it drop away from her...switching hands to accommodate her exploration. His breath stirred her hair, and she could feel him releasing it from the braid until it spilled across her shoulders. Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he pulled her forward and met her mouth in wet, wanton kiss. Her mouth felt bruised, crushed, plundered. Swollen with the taste of him. Wet with the feel of him. Hot and demanding with the promise of what was to come. He didn't let her explorations continue for long. With a firm grip, he pulled her away from him and turned her around to face the window. "You said you wanted them to see...well I want you to see, too. Everything I do to you." Now that the night was growing dark, the brightness of the lamps in her apartment cast their reflections on the gigantic window. She watched the frantic heaving of her own chest, struggling to fuel her rapidly beating heart. On her knees, with him kneeling behind her, naked except for a pair of skimpy panties, she looked wickedly decadent. His right arm slid around her waist, his fingers catching the waist band of her panties and shoving them down. Just far enough that they couldn't stretch anymore with the angle of her spread thighs. She could feel his erection rubbing against her lower back, sliding against the cleft of her ass with each subtle thrust of his hips. "Put your hands up there." Sabryn leaned forward slightly to wrap her sweaty hands around the iron head board of her bed. She felt utterly exposed, not only to him but to whomever might be watching. Still, she couldn't tear her gaze away from the reflection in the window. She couldn't believe her eyes. Even misted with a slight bit of perspiration, with her hair all wild around her shoulders, and with her lips slack with the effort to aid her breathing, she looked beautiful. Sexy. And with this man behind her, she felt gorgeous. "Can you see them watching us? All of them, in every apartment. Waiting for my next move. Breathless." Breathless indeed. She twitched slightly at the touch of his fingers, parting the dewy petals of her sex, guiding himself into place, poised on the brink. "They've been waiting for this every night. Watching you. Needing to see you scream as you cum." He flexed his hips slightly, torturing her with the slight pressure that wasn't nearly enough. "You've been waiting too, haven't you?" Damn it, she didn't want to be teased. Her back was arched in desperation, and she pushed back against him, trying to force him inside her with her own movement. But he wasn't about to let her take control. This was his game, and she didn't even know the rules. "Alex, do it." "Hmm?" "Fuck me. Please." Meeting his gaze in the reflection on the window, she pleaded him with her eyes, and nearly screamed the moment he thrust forward and began filling her with his throbbing shaft. He wasn't violent, didn't hurt her, but it wasn't gentle either. He didn't baby her or murmur patient words of comfort. He didn't waste a second. Pushing into her so deep she could feel his hips pressed hard against her ass, he leaned forward and braced his hands next to hers on the head board. With his chest to her back and thighs slamming against hers, he did just as she asked. He fucked her until she was nearly mindless. Surrounded by the sound of his breathing, so close to her ear, shallow pants that sounded more and more like grunts with every move he made, Sabryn stared helplessly at their reflections. She never seen or felt anything so erotic in her life. His dominant, bestial position completely consumed her. Possessed her. Each deep, writhing, filling, forceful thrust made her gasp. The heated, musky, sexual smell of his body merged with hers filled her nostrils. The bed below them seemed to be screaming with each slamming movement, the springs sending out an angry protest. The wet slapping sound of their bodies would have embarrassed her at any other time, but she was beyond feeling anything now but the quivering ache he was creating inside of her. Her thighs shook, her body spasmed beneath him. And he fucked her, over and over, like some great wild beast, growling in her ear. As if that weren't enough, holding her gaze in the window, he slipped his hand off of the iron railing and pushing his fingers right against the throbbing heart of her sex. The place that screamed for his touch. The sensitive bundle of nerves that made her buck hard against him with every brush of his finger. And she couldn't stand it any more. She pushed away from the head board and backed hard against him, pushing upright on her knees, wrapping her arm around his neck and meeting his frantic kiss. His thrusts became violent, desperate, nearly bruising in intensity. And as he broke away from her lips, he held her gaze as he whispered, "Cum for me, baby...they're watching." Oh, she was so close...so close. She may have been a virgin, but she knew an orgasm when she felt one. She was a good girl, yes, but she sure as hell wasn't a saint. And yet, she needed more. Just a little more to push her over the edge. Sliding her hand over his, she pushed her fingers down hard. Pressing him into her swollen flesh and rubbing to the right of her clit. Right...right there.... "Alex!" "Look up. Watch us." Somehow, even spasming as she was, she looked at the reflection in the glass and gasped. She could see him moving between her legs, his thick penis thrusting into her, his heavy balls rising, swinging with every movement. His fingers moving, slick with her juices, pushing her hard into orgasm. Her breasts bouncing with every fierce thrust. His tongue sliding up the side of her neck. "Oh God..." With a few last commanding thrusts, he buried his face in the side of her neck and groaned. She could feel him throbbing inside her, convulsing with his release. She couldn't catch her breath, could barely even swallow her throat was so dry. And when he finally pulled out of her and tossed the condom in the nearby trash, she nearly fell over without his support. Carefully lowering herself, her thighs quivering, she sat down on her ankles and watched him get off the bed and head for the bathroom. He walked through her apartment nude, with no modesty whatsoever. And when she expected him to just wash up and leave, he surprised the hell out of her by bringing back a wet wash cloth and tending to her instead. "Lay down." It took her a moment. Hell, she was sore in places she'd never even imagined. Laying down on her damp sheets, feeling like a big sweaty, sticky mess, she watched him with open curiosity as he pulled off her panties and bathed her with the cold cloth. Some spy. He was capable of more tenderness than most people she knew. When he was finished he quickly wiped the cloth over himself and tossed it to the floor. Settling down onto the bed next to her, he didn't seem to mind a bit when she curled up against his side and laid her head on his shoulder. "So, was it good for you?" he asked with obvious amusement. She had to grin. "Well, I suppose it was ok. I'm sure you'll get better with practice." By the time he swatted her ass, she was already laughing obnoxiously. But minutes later, when they were both growing drowsy and comfortable, she had to remind herself not to fall for this man. It was only sex. *** The clock on her night stand read 4:08 as Alex zipped up his jeans and reached for his shirt. He'd been careful not to wake her as he slipped from the noisy bed. She slept on undisturbed, curled up in the sheets, her face buried in the pillow where his head had once rested. Seemingly free of nightmares, she'd spent several hours curled up against his side. Warm and soft. Comforting. And the moment he'd realized he could get used to that feel was the moment he'd known he had to leave. Grabbing his boots and his jacket, he took one last look at her before heading for the door. He didn't want to be around when she woke up...and realized what the hell she'd done. *** Sabryn heard the door shut and opened her eyes. She hadn't slept at all during the night. There was no way she'd be able to manage it with a strange man in her bed. Not when she could feast her eyes on the gorgeous length of his body from beneath her lashes. She would have been crazy if she hadn't looked. And yet, now that he was gone, her apartment felt more empty, more lonely than ever. Slipping out of her bed, she went to the bathroom and got dressed. She went about her morning routine of making coffee. Walking over to her easel, she took down the painting she'd done of Alex and leaned it against the wall, replacing it with freshly stretched canvas. She readied her paints and brushes, and began to draw. But it wasn't long before she had to stop. Before she looked at her rumpled bed and grinned widely. Before she did a little dance and squealed like a girl. She couldn't remember ever being so happy in her entire life. *** Part Six: Shadows Of The Night Summary: What happens when the past starts catching up with you? For Diadem and Ginny, my sublime beta girls. I owe you each a box of chocolates. "If you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you." "Have you lost your mind or did you start takin' drugs?" Sabryn peeked her head around the glass-brick wall of the bathroom and laughed. "Neither." Olivia Jordan folded her arms over her chest and sat her plump rear down on the bouncy bed. "You slept with a man you just met, and you don't think that's crazy?" "You're telling me you've never done that?" "I'm not *you*, Sabryn. I'm not the one who blushes every time a man looks at me. And now you're going off to meet some other man--what the hell has gotten into you?" Holding the unzipped halves of her dress together, she stepped out of the bathroom. "What do you think of this one?" "I liked the other dress better." "The red one? It was too tight." "What do you care? You're seein' two men at once." Sabryn rolled her eyes. "I told you, he's a friend I met on the internet. I'm not dating him. And I'm not dating Alex either." "No, you just slept with him." "There wasn't any sleeping involved." "I can imagine." Olivia tossed her braids over her shoulder, creating a terrible clatter as all the little beads clashed together. "If you don't plan on 'dating' this 'friend,' why do you care so much about what you're wearing?" "Well I don't want to look like a lazy slob. If I show up in paint-splattered jeans and a dirty T-shirt, what is he going to think of me?" "You're just hopin' he's good lookin'." Olivia slid off the bed and walked over to the painting that was leaning against the wall. "Mmm mm mm. Is this him?" Sabryn stepped out of the bathroom again, in yet another dress, and glanced fondly at the portrait. "Yes. That's Alex." "You're gonna have to tell me where you've been hangin' out when you leave work." "I didn't meet him at a club, Livie. He followed me home." Olivia turned her wide brown eyes on Sabryn. "You fucked a man who followed you home like some stray dog?" Sabryn grabbed the painting and turned it around to face the wall. "Do you like this dress or not?" She barely gave the coffee-colored slip dress a second glance. "It's nice." "Gee, thanks for your help." "I just think you oughta be careful, girl. It ain't gonna do you a damn bit of good to fall in love with some man you barely know...especially when you're runnin' off to meet another one." "I'm not in love, Livie. You don't have anything to worry about." *** There was something so appropriate about sitting in a darkened room of the Watergate Hotel, waiting for a viper to arrive. The curtains were drawn to smother the morning sunlight, the bed neatly made and the room freshly cleaned. Still, there was a familiar smell in the air, that of stale perfume and tobacco, and he had to breathe through his mouth to keep from sneezing. Gaining entrance to the room hadn't been a problem. He'd picked enough locks in his lifetime to make it almost second nature. Actually walking in the room had been another problem altogether. He hadn't known if she'd be present...or if she'd be alone. Luckily, the place was empty. He'd already searched the room wearing his leather gloves. Not because he was afraid of leaving fingerprints, but rather because he didn't especially want to feel Diana Fowley's underwear against his flesh. Not quite an hour later, the sound of her key turning in the door alerted him to her presence. She stepped through the door, wearing a navy blue business suit, her lipstick worn except for a narrow line around the edge of her lips. Her dark hair was still in the same classic style. The woman probably wore so much hair spray that it never moved. Alex flexed his hand on the arm of the chair, waiting for her to notice him, meeting the scent of her Poison perfume before her gaze. She was reaching to turn on the nearby lamp when he spoke. "Where have you been, dear? I've been worried." She started, letting out a sharp gasp. "Jesus. What the hell are you doing in my room, Krycek?" "Waiting. Late night?" She flipped on the lamp, causing him to squint in the orangy glow. She tossed her purse down in the nearby chair and unbuttoned her jacket, making it very clear that she was carrying her weapon. "What I do is none of your business. Now get out." He stood up slowly, certainly not in any hurry. Walking over to where she stood, he gave her an appraising look that caused her eyebrow to arch. "You smell like cigarettes, Diana. Do you like the taste of him in your mouth?" "Depends on which taste you're speaking of." He nearly gagged. "Do you have a thing for old men, or just this one in particular?" Shrugging off her jacket, she hung it over the back of the chair and headed for the door. "I told you to leave." "Surely a beautiful woman such as yourself could do better. Maybe someone better looking...a little less geriatric?" She laughed. "You?" "I don't see Mulder beating down your door." "You bastard. Get out." He stepped closer, nearly touching her, staring down into those defiant brown eyes. "I could make you cum harder than Mulder ever did. And I sure as hell know I'd be better than that dried up old prune." She let out a shuddering breath, refusing to back away from his dominant stance. "What do you want from me, Krycek?" "What makes you think I want anything other than this?" "Because I have a brain in my head. You don't do anything unless there's something in it for you." "I'm not the only one. I admit I'd do a lot of things to save my own ass, but fucking Old Spender isn't one of them. Tell the truth, Diana. You don't want him. He's just your ticket to freedom when the colonists come. You'd rather be his whore than slave to a bunch of little gray men." She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist. "Fuck you." "You learn to play the game, get in with the high rollers, and walk away with the chips, isn't that right?" "You should know better than I do, Krycek. You've been playing a lot longer than I have." He released her wrist, waiting for a slap that didn't come. Holding her gaze, he flipped open the top button of her blouse, revealing even more of her long neck. She shuddered at the touch of his knuckles sliding down the length of her throat. "Don't you think it's time both of us had a little reward?" She licked her lips, removing just a bit more of that lingering lipstick. Sliding his thumb along her jaw, he tilted her head up and leaned forward, until their lips were almost touching. His whispered words made her breath catch. "I guarantee you won't regret it. You won't even remember the old man after this." Diana shoved her hands between them, pressing against his chest. "Why the hell is this any different than what I'm doing to Spender? Fucking me just to get back in the game is pretty low, even for you." "I never said I wanted anything from you. Just a good lay." "Don't patronize me. What do you want?" "Just this." He kissed her then, hard and deep, making her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt. She didn't try to fight him, didn't scream. The taste of tobacco in her mouth nearly obliterated the sweet flavor of Sabryn's kisses, and for a moment he almost felt guilty. The unfamiliar sensation burned in his gut, before he forcefully pushed it away...nearly as hard as he slammed Diana up against the wall. She moaned, rubbing up against him like a kitten. So she liked it rough. The sudden vision of her squealing in delight as C.G.B. Spender spanked her was almost enough to make him laugh out loud. Pulling away from her mouth with a suctioned pop, he nibbled his way down her long, creased neck. Listening to the sound of her trembling breath. Pressing her hard against his body. Praying like hell that she thought the erection in his pants was because of her. "When are they coming, Diana?" "...hmm?" "The colonists...when do they arrive?" She shoved him away from her once more. "Is that what this is about? You want to use me for information?" "You know what I want to use you for. I'd just like to know how many nights we have left." She smiled, her lipstick-lined lips puffy from his attack. "You only want me at night?" He smirked. "Hungry, aren't you?" "New Year's day. The Millennium. Isn't that ironic?" Fuck! "What about Cassandra? They need her for the hybrid genes..." "We have enough of her genetic material from the testing. Besides, I've been told she will be found before then. It's only a matter of time." She started reaching for him when he abruptly pulled away. He spit the nauseating taste of her out of his mouth and reached for the door. "You son-of-a-bitch! Where the hell do you think you're going?" "Certainly not to your bed. A man would have to be insane, or just out of prison, to be desperate enough to fuck you." Diana pulled her gun out of her holster, aiming it straight at his back and cocking it just as he turned the door knob. He turned his head slightly, unable to hide his smirk. "We wouldn't want to ruin this nice carpet, now would we?" "Don't beg, Diana. It's so unattractive." He stepped out into the hallway, shut the door behind him, and walked away. The vicious scream that followed his retreat was sheer poetry. *** Sabryn stepped out of the cab, wishing she'd saved some money and just taken the bus. Still, it was nice to have a little time to herself as she nervously rode into downtown Washington. It had given her a chance to calm down. But now as she stepped onto the curb and felt the chilly wind blow her blazer away from her, stirring her thin skirt around her thighs, her sudden shiver wasn't from the cold. She was as apprehensive as hell. But she'd gotten herself this far, and she wasn't about to turn back now. Just this morning she'd made plans to meet her internet confidant on the bench in front of the American Cafe. She thought it was about time she told her story to someone who was ready to believe her. Someone who knew what she'd gone through. Having met him in a chat room discussion almost four months ago, she knew this was a man she could trust. He knew exactly what it was like to face the ridicule and doubt that came along with claiming to have experienced alien contact. She swallowed heavily, settling down onto the wooden bench and tucking her purse close to her side. Nestled in the little bag was the pistol her brother had given her the day she moved to Arlington. She may have been brazen by meeting this man, but she wasn't stupid. She wasn't about to put her safety in someone else's hands. She made sure she met him in public, and wasn't about to let him take her elsewhere until she knew him better. *You slept with a man you just met, and you don't think that's crazy?* Olivia's words rang in her head, sounding so much like her mother's that she almost cringed. But her friend was right. She'd been foolish. Her strictly careful conscience had been nowhere to be found last night. She'd been reckless and wild. Out of her mind, and seemingly out of her body. But, damn, it had been wonderful. And even though she'd since showered and changed her sheets, she could still detect the scent of him. Lingering, haunting her with visions of his body driving into hers. His deep, consuming kisses. His slow, appraising looks that traveled the whole length of her body, caressing every inch of her flesh... "Lailah?" Sabryn snapped out of her reverie, looking up at the man who stood before her. She had to squint in the cold winter sunlight. Standing before her, almost awkwardly in his designer suit and tie, holding out his hand to her with a gentle smile, he wasn't anything like she'd imagined. She expected to meet some long-haired, Sci-Fi convention-attending trekkie...not a handsome man with well groomed hair and intelligent eyes. Clearing her throat, she took his hand and stood up. "I think I should introduce myself properly. Sabryn Jaegar. I take it you're Stargazer 73?" He gave her a sweet smile that no doubt charmed the socks off of the woman he worked with. She had a hard time resisting it herself. "It's nice to meet you, Sabryn. But there's no need to be so formal. I think it's safe to tell you my real name." "Which is?" "Special Agent Fox Mulder." She swallowed heavily. "You're an FBI agent?" "Is that a problem?" "I--I just thought--" "You didn't expect someone Federal to show up and talk to you about alien abductions." She bit her lip. "I don't blame you. Look, why don't we step inside and get something to eat, and then I'll explain myself. I guarantee you won't regret it." She glanced back at the curb where she'd departed the cab, wondering for a moment if it was too late to flee. "All right. Let's go in." *** Nearly thirty minutes and half a sandwich later, Sabryn wiped her mouth with the paper napkin. She tucked a loose strand of hair over her ear and watched Agent Mulder take a sip of his iced tea. After listening to his explanation of his job, she was still just as baffled as ever. But she was also highly intrigued. She'd never imagined half the things he'd claimed to have witnessed. And his almost detached description of the night his younger sister disappeared made her heart ache. It was obvious by the way he spoke he still cared very much for the missing girl, even if he was trying to hide it. "Samantha was abducted in 1973...that's where the 73 in your screen name came from?" He nodded, taking another bite of the giant meatball sub. "And she's part of the reason you became so interested in the X-files...and the UFO phenomena chat room where we met?" Swallowing, he nodded again. "Most of the time I just 'listen in'. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that a lot of those people are lying about their experiences." She didn't comment, but a spontaneous irritation itched the back of her throat. "Those people that do have real experiences, however, are worth every hoax and vicious liar. I was just waiting for a story like yours to come along. Which, of course, is not to say that I completely believe your claims. I want to...but I have no proof that you're any more sincere than anyone else. I really have nothing but a gut feeling." "I understand." "Still, there are certain things about what you've told me that caught my attention. I definitely don't meet with every single person I've talked to." "Why did you want to meet with me?" "You don't have to sound so worried. You aren't under investigation." I'm sorry, this is just awkward for me. I've told you so many things about myself, without ever really knowing who you were. If I'd known you were an FBI agent..." "You never would have told me anything." "Maybe." "I'll be honest with you. You remind me of my sister. You have ever since I first heard your story. I've spent every moment since she disappeared looking for her, around every corner I turned. And if there's even the slightest chance that your experience can help me find her, I'm willing to take the risk." She certainly couldn't say no to that...especially not when looking at that slightly pouty lower lip of his. "Does that expression work on your partner?" "On Scully? All the time. She can't resist me." Sabryn laughed. "All right. What do you want to know?" "What do you remember about that night? I know you've described it to me before, but sometimes if you say it out loud, you can remember things you might have left out." She took a deep breath. She was forced to relive that night, over and over, every time she dreamed. Nothing ever changed. And she certainly didn't want to talk about it now. But she'd hoped in coming here that she might relieve the terror of that night by speaking of it to a person who understood. She hoped that impulse had been a good one. "It was April, and my parents had just bought my brother a new tent because it was on sale. He and my father planned to go hunting that summer. But Johnny didn't want to wait to try out the tent, and he decided to sleep out in the field over night. Being the nuisance that I was, I wanted to do everything my brother did...so I begged my mama until she finally relented and let me sleep in the tent too. "I was only seven years old, and I'd never slept outside before. I was still afraid of the dark, and it was so cold outside. I laid there shivering in my sleeping bag, wanting so badly to go back in the house, but knowing that Johnny would call me a wimp. He didn't even want me out there to begin with. But I was so scared. I--I thought he was asleep, and I was awake all alone, and I started crying." She reached for her water glass, picking it up with a shaky hand, nearly sloshing it all over herself. After she was done sipping, Agent Mulder took the glass from her and handed her a fresh napkin. "Thank you." She cleared her throat. "Johnny heard me crying and started laughing. He was always so mean to me. I don't know if he was planning it all along, but he grabbed my teddy bear and took off running. I'd had that bear since I was a baby and I carried it with me everywhere. So I ran outside, barefoot, chasing him through Daddy's field. The shadows were so dark, like looming monsters, and I was crying so hard I could barely see. Johnny ran ahead of me, and when he got to the top of a small hill, he threw my bear into the creek that ran through our property. "Neither one of us noticed anything was wrong until it was too late. It was so quiet. It may have been a cold April night, but there should have been some noise. We didn't even hear any wind blowing through the trees. It was just dead silent. And the creek was so warm. For a moment I almost thought I'd wet my pants or something." She blushed slightly, looking away from his intense gaze. When he reached across the table and touched her hand, she nearly flinched. "I looked up at the sky. Johnny had stopped laughing and was looking up like he was seeing a ghost. But it was worse than that. I'd been around airplanes before, because my uncle was a pilot, but I knew this wasn't just an ordinary plane. There was something very wrong. And it was only a moment later that some...some *force* hit me in the chest and knocked me on my ass. I landed in the creek water and Johnny screamed. I'd never heard him sound so scared. And I felt myself being lifted, flying through the air like an angel. I thought I was dead." "And that's all you remember?" Sabryn nodded. "How did you get home?" "I--I don't know. The next thing I remember is waking up in a hospital room. My entire family was there, and Johnny still looked so scared. They asked me what happened, and I told them what I remembered...but they looked at me like I was crazy. I tried to get Johnny to tell them, but he wouldn't say a word." "He never told them what he saw?" "He did, later. After a few years. By then the whole town knew my story and they thought I was a liar. Johnny tried to defend me, but it was too late. No one believed him either. They just thought he was playing along. But it was me they blamed for the hoax. I was the one they glared at for bringing all of those reporters into our sleepy little town. I was the one the other kids made fun of, and called the 'Martian Girl.' I was the one my parents didn't believe, and got punished for making our family the laughingstock of town. If we hadn't been so poor, we might have moved to another town. But that wasn't an option." Agent Mulder squeezed her hand, offering her a sympathetic smile. "I know what that feels like, to grow up a loner...a 'liar.'" She coughed, trying to ease the tightness in her throat. "I don't tell my story to very many people. They never believe me, anyway." He set his napkin on the table and pushed his plate to the side. "Did your parents ever go to a fertility clinic?" "No." "You're certain? No fertility treatments with an OB-GYN?" "Not that I know of." "Did you ever have any strange illnesses as a child, something they might have taken you to a specialist for?" "No. Why?" "I'm just thinking out loud for a moment." "I was rarely ever sick as a child. All I had were the nightmares." "Did you see a psychiatrist? Have you been through any sort of memory regression therapy?" She shook her head. "Do you think that would help?" "I don't know...but if you're willing, we could give it a shot sometime. I know several good doctors. Or if you're more comfortable with me, I could try it myself. My specialty is criminal behavior, but I am a licensed psychologist. I've had the necessary training." "I--I don't know..." "I'll let you think about it. I'm going to have to get back to work, anyway." She started to reach for her purse when he waved her hand away. "I'll pay for this." "No, it's all right...I have money now." "Good. Save it." "Agent Mulder, I can't let you do that." "Yes, you can. And please, call me Fox." "I thought you told me over instant messaging that your partner calls you Mulder." "She does. That's different." Sabryn raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. As he paid for their meal and led her outside to catch her a cab, she couldn't help but notice how comfortable she suddenly was. Her initial shyness had all but disappeared. "It was nice finally meeting you, Fox." "You too, Sabryn." Opening the door of the cab for her, he handed a folded up wad of money to the driver. "Take her wherever she wants to go." "Will do," the driver said, grinning. Sabryn could only shake her head. "Thank you." "You're welcome." Before he put his wallet away, he handed her his business card. "Keep in touch. If you remember anything else, no matter how small the detail, call me." "I will." He grinned, tapping on the roof, and gave her a wave as the cab drove away. *** Part Seven: Walk Through Fire Summary: Secrets and lies are meaningless with time For Ben. "Time is the fire in which we burn." She sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the old painting with unfocused eyes. The blurred abstract shapes made little more sense to her than when she'd first painted them. Even so, there was a strange electricity about it. An almost palpable spark in the air. It was nearly two in the morning when she'd been awakened from a restless sleep with an inexplicable urge. Crawling from that warm bed, she'd pulled all of her old unfinished paintings from the stacks leaning against the wall and laid them on the floor. End to end, the weird shapes illuminated only by the lamp on her night stand. Staring at them for endless hours. And without so much as an idea in her head, she picked up her tray of paint tubes and started squeezing their contents out onto the palate. Using a knife and an assortment of brushes, she set to work. Smashing the paint into the canvas with ferocious intensity. Mixing the colors directly on the painting. Pressing with such force that she began to work up a sweat. She only paused once, to tie the hair away from her face and mop the perspiration from her brow. Moving from canvas to canvas, unaware of the mess she was creating all over her floor, she worked at a frantic pace. Her eyes swept wildly back and forth, taking in the whole scene with manic concentration. The muscles in her arms quivered, making her strokes even more haphazard. Finally, at nine in the morning, she stood back and looked at the mess on her floor with stunned eyes. She felt as if she'd just woke from a coma. The fuzziness in her mind slowly dissipated as she started cleaning the dozens of brushes and sponges she'd mussed. Paint covered her arms, smeared her sweats and dotted her floor. She didn't remember making such a huge mess. More importantly, however, she didn't remember what had urged her to paint the gigantic five-canvas collection behind her. Standing at the sink, with blue-green water dripping from her brushes, she glanced over her shoulder apprehensively. She hadn't needed to dream during the night. Her entire nightmare was lying on her apartment floor. *** "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Alex laid his forehead against the steering wheel, his burning eyes closed, dialing the number on his cell phone by touch alone. When the receptionist answered, he asked for the first available flight to Moscow. Just as he suspected, most flights were booked for the holiday season. She told him the best she could do was put him on a stand-by list. Mentally cursing, he gave her the name Arntzen and spelled it for her. He was waiting for her confirmation when he started at a tapping on the passenger side window. Sabryn stood there looking through the tinted glass, smiling awkwardly. Lowering the window, he turned off the phone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to say hello." She brushed her hair away from her eyes, her hand laden down with shopping bags. Noting the direction of his gaze, she said, "Last minute Christmas presents." Unlocking the door, he reached across to push it open for her. "Get in. It's freezing out there." She smiled, and didn't waste a minute climbing into the truck and closing the door. He rolled up the window as she stashed her bags in front of her. She nodded towards the nearby bar. "Were you going to go in?" "I was supposed to meet someone. He never showed." "Oh. I'm sorry. Was it important?" He sighed heavily. "Not anymore." They sat for a moment in fumbling silence. He could see the slight pink of her cheeks, but he had no idea if it was from the cold, or being in his presence for the first time since that night they'd shared. She chewed on her lip for a second or two, before turning to him with deliberate assertion. "Do you want to fuck me?" He nearly choked. "Now?" "No..." This time he was certain she was blushing. "No, that's not what I meant. I--what is this thing between us? Are we just friends who got a little carried away one day, or what? I'm not asking you for an affair or anything...I'd just like to know where things stand." "It was just fucking, Sabryn, and you shouldn't expect anything more from me." "I don't," she said, rather defensively. "I'd just like to know..." "What?" "Am I the only one? I know it's a little late to be asking this, but the idea of having sex with someone who's also seeing other people really creeps me out." He ran his hand through his short hair, imagining he could actually feel his headache throbbing through his skull. "You're the only one." "Oh. Good." She sounded entirely too pleased with that revelation. "Well, I should get going. You probably have to get back to work or something." "I don't exactly have set hours." "What do you really do, anyway? I promise I won't laugh. You don't have to lie to me." It figured. The one time he told the truth about something, she didn't believe him. "I already told you." She shook her head. "My brother used to be ashamed to tell people he worked as a janitor when he was younger. Honestly, hard work is nothing to laugh at." "Put your seat belt on." "What?" "You don't believe me...I'll prove it to you." She opened her mouth to speak, and then abruptly closed it again. Reaching for her seat belt, she nodded. "All right. Prove it." *** Sabryn flexed her fingers around the soft tan leather of the bucket seat, fighting the urge to fidget like a child. He drove in silence, and although watching him effortlessly work the stick shift and clutch was fascinating, she was bored out of her mind. There was only so much staring she could do before she was met with his suspicious gaze. She made do with studying him out of the corner of her eye. But it wasn't long before she grew restless once again. "Where are you taking me?" "You'll see." That certainly hadn't gotten her anywhere. Glancing around the large cab of the Dodge Durango, she had to shake her head at the luxury of the vehicle. "This sure is a nice truck. Selling state secrets must be pretty lucrative." If she wasn't mistaken, the beginning of a smile was forming on his face. "It can be, if you know what you're doing. Especially if you're a good thief." "Do you expect me to believe you stole this truck?" "Believe whatever you want." "All right, Spy Man. Just who do you work for?" "No one...and everyone." "A double agent?" "An ex-FBI agent. Turned traitor." He took an absurd amount of pride in his little story, that much was obvious. He couldn't hide the amusement he felt at her disbelief. Fine, she could play along. "Why would you become a traitor? Was Pussy Galore too much temptation?" He turned to stare at her, his eyes sweeping down her body, nearly making her shiver with that intense gaze. "Almost." "You, uh...you never did answer me. What made you turn traitor?" "It was the plan from the very beginning." "Beginning of what?" "My life." She frowned. "You're not going to give me some stupid speech about how you were born bad to the bone, are you?" "Maybe some other time." She crossed her arms over her chest. "How long before we get there?" "Soon." "We will be back before dark, won't we?" If she hadn't been watching, she would have missed the barely perceptible tightening of his hand on the steering wheel. He didn't answer her. "Do you have any compact discs for that fancy stereo?" He reached down to the center console and flipped open the lid. "Take your pick." Sabryn stared down at the compartment, not even noticing the CDs under the black pistol lying on the top. She glanced up at him, and back at the gun again. Taking it out carefully, she laid it on her lap while she selected a disc. Removing the Offspring CD from its case and popping it in the stereo, she tried to ignore the slight unease in the pit of her stomach. Her brother owned many guns and she'd been around them for years. She'd even been taught to use one, and carried it in her purse. But that had had nothing to do with the man who sat next to her, claiming to be a spy. Still, she put the gun back in the console with only the slightest doubt in her previous beliefs. "You know, in 'True Lies,' when Bill Paxton was trying to get Jamie Lee Curtis to believe he was a spy, he carried a gun too. But he was really just a car salesman." She licked her lips. "I hear car salesmen make good money...and they get great deals on new cars, like this one." Alex merely gave her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye, leaned over, and turned up the volume on the CD. *** Nearly an hour later, she sat alone in the car, in front of a closing ice-skating rink, waiting. Wondering what the hell she was doing there. Either one of his "informants" was a grade-schooler, or she'd been seriously made a fool of. When he finally emerged, his jacket pocket bulging with something, she reached down to flip open the lock on the door. As he climbed in behind the steering wheel, he took a jar out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Don't open it, and don't drop it." She held it up to the light, peering suspiciously at the black sludge inside. "You brought me out here so you could retrieve a jar of crude oil?" "It's not oil," he said, starting the truck, "and don't drop it." "You already said that." "Well I mean it. You definitely don't want to get any of that stuff on you." Sabryn suddenly held it out away from her body. "What the hell is it?" "Hang on to it, damn it. You're fine." Still not quite sure, she pushed her hands back into her sleeves and used the fabric as a buffer between her skin and the glass. "Where are you going, now?" "Out of town." "I'm going to be really pissed if this turns out to be mud or something, and you've got me all freaked out over nothing." "Believe me...you have every right to be wary." *** The sun had long ago started its descent by the time he pulled off the main highway. About thirty miles outside of Arlington, Alex switched off the headlights and turned onto narrow dirt road. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sabryn shiver as she stared up at the steadily darkening sky. He turned down the volume on the stereo, concentrating on the road before him. On either side of the path, forgotten pastures stood thick with tall brown grass and sporadic stands of naked trees. Far off to the right, an old boarded-up house stood ghostly in the shadows. "Where are we?" she asked. "Where doesn't matter. The point is, we're far enough away from people." He could feel her staring at him. "What are we doing?" "I want to show you something." She laughed nervously, trying to hide the waver in her voice. "I've already seen it, remember?" "Trust me, you haven't seen anything like this." He stopped the truck, setting the brake, and opened the door. She squinted in the overhead light and handed him the jar before climbing out of her own door. Meeting him in front of the truck, she began walking beside him down the dirt path. She shuddered again, despite the plush jacket she was wearing. He wasn't quite sure where the unfamiliar chivalrous urge came from, but he suddenly found himself shrugging off his own coat and draping it over her shoulders. She stopped to stare at him for a moment, her perplexed expression barely visible in the twilight, before murmuring a soft thank you. She was nearly engulfed by the huge leather jacket, but she pulled it tight around her and hurried after him. About a quarter mile from the truck, he stopped and started unscrewing the lid of the jar. "I thought you said not to open it." "Just stand back." Tucking her hair behind her ear, she did as he asked and watched him pour half the contents of the jar on the ground. He sealed up the jar and stood back. He could see her staring at the gooey mess on the ground before staring back at him. "Well this is just thrilling." "Shhh." "Why are we watching a puddle of oil? Is it going to turn into a car and drive away?" "Just watch." "I can't even believe--" She gasped, gaping at the puddle on the ground as it began moving. Sliding across the ground in one liquid movement, like a raindrop sliding down a windshield, it began searching for a host. Sabryn covered her mouth with her hand, reaching out to grab his sleeve with the other. She tugged him back, pulling him even closer to her. "What the hell is it?" "A virus." "A...virus?" "It will lay dormant for years if necessary, but once it senses the heat of a human host, it wakes up. Searches. And when it finds what it's looking for, it infects the body and takes over." She stared up at him, her mouth hanging open, before shaking her head. "You're talking about it like it's alive. Granted, viruses do seem to have a set mission of infecting people, but they can't think." "This one can." She started, pulling him back several more steps as the black oil drew closer. "W-Why do you have it?" "I took some of it, as proof of its existence." "You took it?" She licked her lips. "You, um, really *are* a spy?" He merely stared at her. "And what is this stuff, like some biological weapon?" "Something like that." "Why would our government develop something like this, after making the countries in the Middle East get rid of their bio-weapons?" "We didn't create this. But we didn't stop its development, either." "Then whose is it?" He glanced back at the oil, watching it slither across the ground with growing agitation. Moving quicker and more frantically in its search. He pushed Sabryn back farther, making sure he stood between her and the virus. "You'll find that out later." "Why? Is it top secret?" "I don't think you understand how serious this is. Years ago, I was given a vaccine for this stuff. I can be a carrier, but I won't be infected. Not like you. Should this stuff ever get into your body, you'll lapse into a coma. It will feed off of your body, using all of your nutrients, growing inside of you and stealing all of your energy until you die. You'll be little more than an incubator. And when it's fully developed, it'll burst out of your body and move on. But it won't be just you, it will be everyone. Billions will die, and this...this 'crude oil' will take over the earth." This time he didn't need to push her away from the oil. She started backing away on her own. Faster and faster, nearly stumbling over her own feet. Taking one last look at the oil on the ground, he made sure his jar was sealed up tight and began following her back to the truck. He nearly had to run to catch up to her. Grabbing her arm, he slowed her down. She shrugged his hand off, and stared at the jar in his hand. "You've known about this stuff all this time?" "All my life." She closed her eyes for a second. "You have to tell someone." "It's not that simple...but I plan on it, once I gather enough evidence." "What more do you need? Jesus, who made this stuff? Our government knows about it, and they've done nothing? Don't they care that we're all going to die?" "They're working on a vaccine." "Then why haven't they given it to people?" "Because it's not ready." "But you said they gave it you, and you can only be a carrier." "The vaccine I was given was created by the Russians, and they aren't too keen on sharing what they have. This is all like a big race, to see who will be the ones to survive the firestorm." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "So, what? Are we all just waiting for some war to break out?" "Yes." "So maybe it won't happen. Maybe we'll get lucky and world peace will break out." "It's inevitable, Sabryn. It will happen. It's only a matter of time." "Well aren't you Mr. Sunshine today." vShe started walking towards the truck once more, shivering again as she stared up at the sky. "You're still cold?" "No, I'm not cold. I don't like being out at night, especially so far away from the city." He used his key chain to unlock the truck, and climbed behind the steering wheel. When both of the doors were shut, they sat in silence for a while. "You're just going to leave that sludge out there? What if some little kid runs across it?" "If you haven't noticed, there aren't any houses left in this area. It was bought by the government a few years ago." She didn't bother to ask why. He doubted she'd want to know. Starting the truck, he backed up a bit before turning around and heading back down the long dirt road. When he reached the main road, he turned the headlights back on and headed towards Arlington. It was several minutes before she spoke again. "The virus is alien in origin, isn't it?" No one statement could have surprised him more than that. *** Part Eight: Heavenly Bodies Summary: Who will you cling to on the last days of the world? For Julie, Jasmin, and Nanda. Your encouragement means so much to me. Doroga k Zvjozdam Otkrita. (The way to the stars is open.) "What did you just say?" "I think you heard me. That virus came from ET's not-so-nice cousin. They want to wipe us off the face of the earth, and you're just going to watch them do it." Jesus. For the second time in so many minutes, he pulled the truck off the road and shut down the engine. Turning to stare at her, Alex barely felt the shudder that ripped through him. She knew. She KNEW. How the fuck could she possibly be privy to something that was so silenced it had even been kept from the President? He wanted to grab her and shake her. To laugh and scream at the sky that he'd been right about her all along. That he'd had every right to be suspicious, that he'd known she would betray him some day. But she'd never lied. She'd never asked him for anything. And he had a sneaking suspicion that if he'd just known the right question to ask, she would have told him all he needed to know. "What are you talking about?" he asked, quietly. She reached up and flipped on the overhead light, her eyes narrowed not because of the brightness but because she was glaring at him. "Don't play stupid with me, Alex. I'm right, aren't I?" "You sound like you've been reading too much Science Fiction." She laughed, but there was no amusement in the sound. "When I was seven years old, I was abducted from our pasture by an alien ship. Before you laugh and tell me I'm crazy, my brother witnessed the whole thing. And I know you know more than you're telling me. I can see it in your eyes." "You don't see shit." She reached over and pressed the button to lock the doors. Turning in her seat, she leaned back and faced him. "Who are you?" "I think I should be asking you that question." "I'm just a poor farmer's daughter who was in the wrong place at the wrong time." She wrapped his coat even tighter about herself, like a big blanket. "I don't even remember all of what happened that night." "I'll tell you what happened. You bumped your head and had a bad dream. You weren't abducted. It's impossible." Her voice grew even harsher. "Why?" "Because you were just a child. You weren't important to the project, and they already had plenty of healthy ovum from adult women." "What project?" He turned away from that intense gaze, staring at his own reflection in the window, knowing he'd already said too much. "It was just a dream, Sabryn." "You're full of shit." "You don't even want to know what they'd do to you if you were abducted." Her long silence finally made him turn to look at her. She was staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief, her lower lip slightly quivering. She looked like she was in shock, and he had the strangest urge to reach out and touch her. But he didn't move. "Tell me." She swallowed heavily. "You have to tell me, Alex. I can't remember." Damn it. He never should have acknowledged her question in the first place. He should have kept on driving, pretended that he hadn't heard a thing. But it was too damned late for that now. It was too damned late for everything. That was what it all came down to, after all. Time. Here now, gone in seconds. So much wasted time. "The only children abducted were those used to make the clones. But that's not even accurate in itself. They were more like 'drones,' or worker bees. Loyal, mindless slaves created for the sole purpose of preparing the earth for colonization." She didn't say a word, but merely sat there in rapt attention, hanging on his every word. And he couldn't look at the expression of horror on her face. His hand clenched around the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead, down that long lonely road, as he continued. "The drones were of little use otherwise. They're easily killed and wouldn't survive the colonization. So the search began for a better worker. Something that would not only survive the 'holocaust,' but could also be used to fight against any sort of human resistance. But they also needed to blend in, to look just like everyone else. So human eggs were collected and used in the development of the perfect human-alien hybrid." "They stole them, from women seeking treatment at fertility clinics, didn't they?" He glanced at her then, but her eyes were closed. He had no idea how she knew as much as she did. Maybe she was remembering. Or maybe she had some sort of shadowy connection he hadn't uncovered yet. Whatever the reason for her question, she looked like she was about to be ill. He couldn't exactly blame her. If he hadn't known all his life, he would have puked his guts out, too. "Yes, among other things." She cleared her throat, opening her eyes only to stare at the floor. "Where does that virus fit into this?" "It's no mistake that the word 'colonists' and 'colony' fit together. The drones and the soldiers. This virus was engineered to be spread by the sting of a bee. Africanized honey bees. Only the soldiers, those given the vaccine, and the men who worked a deal to save their own asses will survive." "You're one of those men, aren't you?" "I would rather sell my own soul than become a slave to these bastards. I just want to stay alive." "Why? I'd rather die than live to see this happen." "Because we can fight them. Survival is the only thing that matters anymore." She breathed deeply for a few moments, holding a trembling hand to her throat. When it seemed her nausea had finally passed, she turned to look at him once more. "You said you've known about this all your life?" "My parents were KGB agents. Someone figured they knew too much, so they were forced to change their names, get new documentation, and disappear for a while. I grew up knowing that this would happen. I've always known my job was to stop this, any way I could." "But you're not stopping it," she said, angrily. "You should be telling this story to the press, the White House, anyone who will listen." "Do you have any idea what that would mean? Complete chaos. If I was believed, and that's a big if, there would be widespread panic and anarchy. And it wouldn't solve a damned thing. We can't save everyone, Sabryn. There's only so much of this damned vaccine to go around, and there's no stopping the invasion. It will happen. People are going to die, whether they know it or not." "But at least they'd be prepared. They could try to make a stand." "You don't get it. Those who don't have the vaccine have no chance of survival. They'll be demolished. Resistance is futile without it." "You're sitting there telling me I'm going to die, and there's not a damned thing I can do about it?" "Yes." "Well fuck you." He reached out to her then, meaning to offer some small amount of comfort, but she slapped his hand away. She started to reach for the door handle when he pulled her back. She fought his touch, angrily pushing him away, sounding like an animal wildly trying to break free of its trap. "Don't touch me!" "Don't fight me, God-damn it!" With a strength she couldn't possibly resist, he grabbed the back of her neck and smashed his lips against her own. Desperately smothering her panicked whimpers, ferociously kissing her mouth until her violent protest slowly ceased. She didn't lose strength, merely refocussed it. And instead of pushing him away, she clung to him like a life-preserver. Shuddering, shaking, quaking with intense and vital life. So real and brazen and beautifully human. Smelling like wildflowers in summer, tasting as sweet as fresh-plucked fruit. Soft and warm, and far more luminous than any of those heavenly bodies in the sky above them. He was so fucking drunk with the essence of her that he didn't give a damn about anything else. For that moment, he just wanted her. *** She had to be out of her mind. She should have been climbing out of the truck, flagging down the first car that came along, and heading to the nearest television station to tell her story. Screaming to whomever would listen that the sky was falling. Instead, she was climbing over that center console and straddling his lap. Ignoring the sudden honk of the horn as she squeezed herself between his body and the steering wheel. Paying no attention to the protesting ache of her thighs in the cramped position. Wanting nothing more than to cling to precious life, to feel the viral vitality of this man. This moment. While she still had time left. He was talking about the end of the world, and she couldn't wait to get into his pants. There was something so fucked up about that she almost laughed. But given the odd mixture of adrenaline in her veins and shock that made her whole body shake, laughter came far too easily. She had to be losing her mind...or she wouldn't be giggling, horny as hell, and ready to burst into tears all at the same time. Her knees pressed hard into the back of the seat, her thighs painfully bunched beneath her, she ground her body into his and kissed him like there was no tomorrow. He barely gave her a moment to breathe. Nearly feral, he sucked at her lips, biting, smashing them beneath his own. Taking, claiming, ravaging, fucking her mouth with his tongue. Recklessly tearing at her jeans, nearly ripping the zipper as he shoved it down. Pushing his hand inside, he started inching the denim down, but he didn't get very far before he was stopped by her spread thighs. Breaking away from her lips, his heavy breathing stirred the hair on top of her head. "This isn't going to work." "Don't stop." "I can't move. I might have to take my arm off." Her sudden hysterical laughter echoed through the long cab of the truck, and when the sound rang back to her, she could hear every little shaky tremor. No no no no. She was not going to cry in front of this man. Not now. Not ever. She sat back and met his gaze, her back pressed painfully against the steering wheel. "I really hate you. You know that, don't you?" The bastard actually laughed. It was the first time she'd ever really heard the sound, and she couldn't even enjoy it. "Yeah, I know. Now lift your ass so I can take these jeans off and fuck you." She tried to glare at him, but failed miserably. Bracing her hands against the back of his seat, she slid her knees backwards until her feet touched the floor. And then she stood up, ducking her head, flinching when her ass hit the horn. She laughed again, thankful for the condensation on the windows as he pushed her jeans down around her ankles. She shivered, feeling awkward as he dragged the white cotton panties down as well. Crouching, draped in the rich musky leather of his coat, his callused hands on her bare skin, the denim of his jeans creating a subtle friction between her thighs, she let out a shuddering cloudy breath. His palm slid around to cup her ass, his fingers teasing the cleft, their bodies illuminated by the lights of a passing car. And as he leaned forward, his body bent awkwardly in the tiny space, his mouth touching the tiny freckle by her navel, she tried desperately to free herself from her jeans. Toeing off one of her shoes, she kicked free of her pant leg. Thank God. She didn't even give a damn about the awful sound the horn made when she put her foot up on the seat next to him. Ignored the angry pain in her lower back as the steering wheel ground into her flesh. Somehow, sliding down the seat, he managed to put his mouth on her. And nothing else mattered. Her hands were so cold her fingers were numb. Her thighs were shaking so much she was amazed she could hold herself up. And yet the sudden heat of his tongue on her, parting the moist folds of her sex as the horn blared in her ear, left a blazing trail of fire coursing through her veins. She couldn't even find enough breath to emit a moan. He didn't remain in the cramped position for long, didn't let her stay smashed against the horn. He merely teased her, gave her the slight taste of ecstasy. And when he pushed himself upright, moving her foot back and dragging her onto his lap, he replaced his mouth with the fingers of his prosthetic hand. She gasped, sliding herself against the smooth plastic. "Too bad you don't have a built-in vibrator." "Maybe I'll have to get an upgrade." She pressed her fingers on top of his, guiding the prosthesis and pushing herself even closer to completion. Wedging his right hand between them, he popped open the button on his jeans and yanked down the zipper. It didn't take much effort to get his cock out...it nearly thrust free of his jeans on its own. He didn't waste another second. Moving his hand out of the way, he guided himself into position and thrust his hips up to fill her with the solid length of his cock. Pressed down hard on his lap, her thighs grating against the rough texture of his jeans, swimming in the heavy leather of his coat, she let his hands on her hips guide her. She'd never been so uncomfortable in her life, but the ache inside her far outweighed any other. She needed this. Needed him. Was frantic with hunger. He pulled her down hard on to him, thrusting up to meet her every downward plunge, holding her hips so tightly she was sure to be bruised. She buried her face in the side of his neck, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, violently riding every rise and fall of his body. Whimpering deep in her throat, fighting the urge to scream. How could one thing hurt so much, and feel so fucking good? Her heart was pounding, aching, her chest squeezing painfully, and her lungs struggling to keep up the pace. She was dimly aware of the harsh sobs leaving her mouth, but she wasn't crying. Not a single tear formed in her eyes. He'd told her she was going to die, but it didn't mean a fucking thing. She wasn't about to give up without a fight. And the fight started right here. She slammed hard against him, tilting her hips until the sensation was almost unbearable, using his body to give her pleasure. Kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck. Hanging onto every shred of humanity in him. When the waves of dark need finally broke, spilling over her in cleansing release, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. Feeling his whole body spasm beneath her. After a moment, she went limp, lying heavily against him, her legs cramping painfully. But she wasn't about to move. It took several minutes for his breathing to slow, before he removed his hands from her hips and rolled down the window to let a little fresh air cool their sweaty skin. Sabryn laid her head on his shoulder, staring out the window at the starry sky. Impossible. Something that beautiful couldn't possibly be the gateway to their doom. She'd been afraid of that sky for years, but somehow...for some God-awful reason, it didn't seem so threatening now. Perhaps it was the irrational anger still coursing through her veins. Or her sudden determination to fight. Whatever it was, for once she could look at those stars without panicking. She cleared her throat. "When does the invasion begin?" "New Year's day." So much for not panicking. She sat upright and stared at him, feeling the still slightly stiffened length of his cock shift inside her with her movement. She couldn't help the tightening of her inner muscles that made him catch his breath. "That's only a few weeks away." "Seventeen days." She licked her lips, staring into his eyes. "Isn't there anything we can do?" "Get your hands on as much cash as you can. Close any bank accounts, sell whatever might get some money. Pack up your apartment, and head north. Get supplies, your family, whatever the hell you'll need to survive, and find the coldest damned place you can get to. The sooner the better." "Why cold?" "The cold slows them down, stunts their development. For now, it's your only defense. Get your hands on guns, any kind of weapons you can find. And forget about anything electronic. It'll all be useless anyway." "What are you going to do?" "I'm on stand-by for a flight to Moscow first thing in the morning." "You're going to wait in Russia?" "I don't know what the hell I'm doing yet. But there are some things I need first." Why the hell did that thought bother her so much? She tried to shake off the ugly, clingy feeling. It was just a desperate situation and she was reaching for the first person she saw. It wasn't personal. She'd be better off with her family, anyway. Or so she tried to convince herself. "My parents will never believe me." "It doesn't matter what they believe. Just get them out of there, and go north." "Where?" She closed her eyes, shuddering, and started at the feel of his fingers caressing her cheek. "Don't, Alex. I don't want tenderness from you now." "Would it have been better if I hadn't told you at all?" She lifted her hips, pulling away from him, maneuvering clumsily into her own seat so she could pull her pants back on. "It's a little late to worry about that now." He zipped himself up, and she realized for the first time that they hadn't even used protection. Oh what the fuck did it matter. They were all going to die anyway. "Just take me home." He stared at her a moment, before reaching out to rub his thumb against her jaw. She had to swallow heavily to fight the moisture in her eyes. Yet when his fingers brushed over her shoulder, he paused and abruptly pulled his jacket away. He stared down at the tiny scar at the base of her neck, his eyes turning dark in the overhead light. "What?" "Nothing." He flicked off the light and started the truck, pulling on his seat belt. And with one last glance at her, he drove them back towards Arlington. *** Part Nine: Nothing Lasts Forever Summary: "Don't wanna be all by myself, anymore..." For Leigh, with undying gratitude. If not for her tireless dedication to her web sites, NickLea.com and The Krycek File, I would be hopelessly lost. "We all have eyes for our own Dark Angel." She opened her door and stepped out of the truck before he even pulled to a complete stop in front of the curb. As he set the brake, he watched her race up the stairs to her apartment without a single backwards glance. She didn't give a damn whether he stayed or left. And that only made him all the more determined to follow. At least she hadn't locked the door. Light spilled out into the hall from the open doorway, and he could hear the sound of beeps as she dialed someone's phone number. With her back to him, she didn't even hear him enter. He stood still for a moment, waiting, ready to lunge towards the phone should she have suddenly gotten the wild notion to call the National Guard. But when he heard her ask for her brother, Alex relaxed and finally noticed the paintings scattered on the floor. Sabryn Jaegar certainly was an artist. The swirling collection of paintings, placed end to end in one seamless image, was breath-taking...for no greater reason than the fact that he was staring at the very event he dreaded more than anything. Invasion. Real and frightening, vividly painted in colorful detail. Jesus. Some of the images were blurrier than others. Faces were deliberately smeared and disfigured, others hidden in dark shadows. In some places the color deepened to pure black, as if night had descended. But if this girl had claimed to know nothing about the invasion of earth by alien beings, she was lying through her teeth. It was all here, even things he couldn't even begin to imagine. Alex looked up at Sabryn, listening for a moment to the tense, whispered conversation she was having over the phone. But she couldn't keep his attention for long. At the bottom of each painting, there almost seemed to be a timeline of images. A girl coming of age, only to find herself alone. More people, gathered to look up at a huge light in the sky. Children, huddled in fear. Ghostly beings with long spindly arms and legs, huge almond-shaped eyes. Vivid red-orange flames consuming the edge of one painting, only to die slowly and change to lustrous green in another. And then...nothing. Merely trees and grass, spring-like flowers, the innocence of heaven itself. But the top of the paintings, that was different. Blurred and smoky gray, it almost appeared as if something was missing. As if the collection was unfinished. He knelt down for a closer look, reaching out with his right hand, only start at the sound of her voice. "Don't touch those...the paint may still be wet." The anger still hadn't dissolved from her voice. Although they hadn't said a word the whole way back to her apartment, she hadn't changed her mood one bit. She turned back to the counter, ignoring him once more, saying into the phone, "No, I wasn't talking to you." Alex sat back on his heels and listened in. "Look, you don't need to come over right now, but I want to talk to you first thing in the morning...no, Johnny, this isn't something I want to do over the phone...it just isn't." She tapped her fingers impatiently, balancing the phone between her ear and her shoulder. "No, no, it's nothing like that...just come over in the morning. I don't care if you have to go to work, this is more important." She glanced back at him for a minute, sighing heavily. "Damn it, Johnny, I'm fine. You don't need to come over here now and you don't need to worry about me. Just come over here in the morning, and I'll talk to you then. All right? Fine. Good night." She hung up the phone with a loud crash, leaning against the counter. For a moment he thought she was going to lose it. But she surprised him by pulling a spoon out of the nearby drawer and heading for the freezer. When she'd retrieved the carton of Ben and Jerry's ice cream, shut the freezer, and plopped on the bed, she regarded him with a bitter gaze. "Why are you still here?" "Don't have to leave just yet." She took a huge bite of the Bovinity Divinity ice cream, not bothering to offer him any. Apparently her days of being courteous were over. Alex glanced back down at the paintings, wanting to touch, to smear the paint, to erase the memory of them, and the memory of everything they represented. But nothing was that easy. "When I was a kid, I wanted to be an ice cream man." She looked up at him, the spoon poised just in front of her mouth. "Why?" "Because everyone loved him. I remember being at a friend's house--the one friend I had back then--and we got so excited when we heard the ice cream man driving past. That was innocence and summer. Happiness. I wanted that, and look what I've become." "Yeah, well, nothing lasts forever." She gave him a bitter laugh before shoving the spoonful in her mouth. Talking around a wad of frozen cream, something he found strangely erotic, she said, "Why are telling me this, anyway?" "I thought you wanted to know. You said you didn't know me." "I'd rather know about those bees. How can Africanized honey bees spread a disease to the population during their dormancy period? Or did someone forget it's winter out there?" "The bees are kept quite warm and happy until they're ready. True, when they're released, the cold will kill them quickly...but they were only meant to start the spread of the disease anyway. Humans are the real carriers. We spread germs faster than anything. Gross as it may sound, I just gave you more than enough germs to kill you with what we did in the truck." She wrinkled her nose, suddenly losing her appetite. Setting the carton and spoon on the night stand, she just stared at him. "It's so nice of you to refer to it as such...'what we did in the truck.' But what should I expect? It was just fucking, right, Alex?" "Is that what you're angry about?" "I'm angry about a lot of things." She plucked at his jacket, before realizing just what she was wearing. Shrugging the heavy leather off her shoulders, she wadded it up and threw it towards him. He caught it before it landed on her painting. "Why don't you leave? Don't you have a plane to catch?" "What are you going to do?" "I'm going to take a shower and try to figure out some way to convince my family to sell their belongings and move north. To believe everything they never believed in twenty-five long years. Obviously it's not going to be easy. So if you don't mind, I'd really like to be alone." "The hell you would." "What?" "You're scared shitless. And the moment I walk out that door, you're going to fall in a heap on the floor." "Are you always this much of an asshole, or is just for my benefit?" He stood up, walking around the paintings and grabbing her arm before she could twist away. "Admit it. You don't have to be brave every fucking second. No one is." "Oh? In between selling your secrets, back-stabbing your enemies, and fucking every woman who crosses your path, you just curl into a ball and sob like a baby?" "I don't remember the last time I cried. But yes, I've been scared before. Plenty of times." "Well, congratulations." She yanked her arm away from him, heading for the bathroom. "I don't need you, Alex. Just go." "What are you going to do if your parents don't believe you?" She paused for a moment. "It wouldn't be a big shock. I'd just go without them." "And what about your brother? Will you go on without him, if he decides he doesn't believe you?" "Johnny knows I'm not a liar." "I never said you were. I said, what if he decides not to believe you this time?" She spun around to face him, her dark hair swirling around her shoulders. "Why are you doing this? Are you some sort of sick sadist? Do you get off on it?" "I'm just asking you a question, Sabryn. Who will you turn to?" "That's not your problem." "I know it's not." "You don't give a damn about me, so why don't you just go?" "I never said that." A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. "Oh, what? Mr. Spy Man has a conscience? Doesn't want to see me die while thinking no one loved me?" She crossed her arms. "Don't humor me, Alex. Spies don't fall in love, remember?" "I never said I was in love with you." Christ. He could have been a bit less forceful with that statement. She looked like he'd just slapped her. "I just meant that I do care what happens to you." "That's funny, because I couldn't care less about you." She walked away from him then, turning the corner into her bathroom, and even though there was no door between them, he could feel it slamming just the same. He rubbed his hand over his tired eyes, fighting the urge to follow her. Fuck. It was almost funny. He couldn't even remember the last time he gave a damn about anyone but himself, and now that he did she didn't believe it. He didn't love her, that much was true. Falling in love was a suicide mission. Case in point, Fox Mulder. The bastard's petite little partner had him wrapped so tightly around her finger that he'd probably castrate himself if she so much as asked. And everyone knew it. She'd been used against him more times than Alex could count. No. He didn't want to end up like his parents, either. Eva must have been one hell of a temptation for his father to give up everything, his country and his safety, just to be with her. And look how that turned out. Walking away from the bathroom, determined to head right out the door, he didn't get very far. Drawn like a fucking siren's song, he stopped once more before the collection of paintings lying on the floor. Staring with intense concentration at the blurred pinnacle of each picture. After a moment, his gaze skipped to the painting still leaning against the wall. He stepped over to it, turning it towards him, cringing at the sight of his own face. But as he looked down to the ghostly mist swirling just below his counterpart's feet, and then glanced quickly back to the collection on the floor, he had to shake his head. "I'll be damned." *** Sabryn sat on the closed lid of the toilet, her head in her hands, waiting to hear the sound of the door closing as he left. It didn't come. Her mind was so boggled by different thoughts that she couldn't even keep them straight. There was a spy standing in her apartment. That alone was enough to make her shake her head. She never would have imagined such a thing. And if she had, he would have more closely resembled Austin Powers instead of James Bond. Not that she was complaining. But what did it matter, anyway? He'd soon be gone, she'd never see him again, and world was going to end in seventeen days. No, scratch that, she thought, looking at the clock beside the sink. It was after midnight. Sixteen days. She felt like she was going to be sick. He was just leaving her. What the hell was she supposed to do? She didn't know what the hell was going on. She didn't know who to tell. She didn't know how to convince anyone she was telling the truth. She didn't know how to keep convincing herself she didn't love him. She let out a tiny sob, praying he didn't hear it. So stupid. How could she have been so stupid? No, he was just a friend. She was just reaching for him in an extreme situation, and that was all there was to it. She was scared, beyond belief, afraid of losing everything she'd ever known. It was only natural to feel strong emotions. Still, he knew far better than her what was to come. He was better prepared and she'd be smart to stick close to him. If only she could convince him of that fact. Standing up on shaky legs, she checked her appearance in the mirror before walking back out to where he stood. Wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, watching him study his own portrait more intensely than the Mona Lisa. When he didn't notice her presence, she decided to break the silence. "I'm sorry I was so rude before. I guess--well, I really don't have an excuse. I apologize." She held out her hand. "Friends?" He stared up at her from his crouched position, his brow furrowed, before straightening to his full height. All the more intimidating. He nodded slowly, taking her hand in his, swallowing her palm in his grip. "Friends." It was several long minutes before she pulled her hand away. She licked her lips, nervous twisting her fingers together behind her back. "I know you'll be leaving soon, but I was wondering if you'd consider making a deal." He laughed softly. "What sort of deal?" "If you come back and help me get my family situated up north, just long enough that I don't have to worry about them, I'll...I'll give you whatever you want." He reached out to pop open the top button of her shirt, tracing his knuckles over her collarbone. She had to wonder if he noticed the sudden intake of her breath...or the quite obvious hardening of her nipples. "You've already given me what I wanted, Sabryn. Why bargain for what I've already got?" "You won't have it for much longer," she said, tensely. "Besides, surely there's something else you want. Money? Guns?" "The one thing I want is something you could never give me." "And that is?" "A normal life. No spying, lying, cheating, killing..." He paused for a moment, as if waiting for her to take a step backwards, but he underestimated her. She'd suspected as much from the very first moment she'd realized he truly was a spy. "No alien invasions, no waiting to dodge the next bullet." "We're not so very different, you and I. My life has never been normal either...except for maybe seven years as a child." "Well at least you had that much." "If things had been different...do you think you'd have a family now?" He stared at her for moment, before dropping his gaze back to the painting. "I don't know." The sudden sadness in the air was almost palpable. "I need your help, Alex. I don't know how to do this alone." "Did you ever notice the other shapes in this painting?" She was caught off guard by the change in subject. "What?" "Here," he said, crouching down. "And here. I'm not the only one in this painting. There are other figures in the background." Sabryn peered closer, nearly shoulder to shoulder with him, but she couldn't make out anything other than blurred shapes. Turning to look at him, she swallowed heavily when she saw just how close he was. "I--I don't know what those are. I tend to space out a little when I'm painting." "Interesting analogy, don't you think?" "I guess so." "I wanted to show you something." Standing up, he picked up the portrait and stepped over to where the others lay on the floor. Setting down the canvas, he pushed it into place over the others. Gesturing to the collection, he said, "Look." Sabryn stood up, walking over until she stood opposite him, and when she saw the finished product, her gaze flew up to his in amazement. With his portrait placed at the very top, the collection was complete...and with the haze on the bottom of his canvas, and the matching haze on the top of the others, it was quite obvious what had been missing. There in the foggy smoke, or rather, billowy clouds, rose an obscure but unmistakable alien ship. The very one she'd seen the night she was abducted. She put her hand over her mouth, closing her eyes. She couldn't let him see the quivering of her lips. Couldn't let him see the sudden moisture in her eyes. Yet when she felt his hand on her wrist, she flinched. He wasn't gentle when he pulled her to him, didn't mean to comfort or pity her. He merely dragged her up tight against his chest and kissed her hard. Deep and intimate, demanding all of her attention, pulling her right out of her own despair. And when he pulled away from her mouth, she stood up on her tiptoes and held on tight. Burying her face against his neck. Memorizing the scent and taste of him. "It was nice knowing you, Alex. In more ways than one." This time, when he pulled away from her and took a step backwards, she didn't reach for him again. He didn't smile, didn't reach for her hand. He headed for the door and didn't look back. But just as the door was closing behind him, and she was looking away, he surprised her one last time. "I will come back, Sabryn. But like I said once before...you don't owe me a damned thing." *** Part Ten: Paradise Lost Summary: Time flies when the world is coming to an end. For Alli, for graciously filling the shoes of my vacationing beta girls. Thanks! "The true paradises are paradises we have lost." Hell couldn't have been far off. Stuffed into a tiny seat between jabbering tourists and a little old lady that smelled like she'd bathed in perfume, Alex closed his eyes in agony. His brain was throbbing, he hadn't slept in days, and it would be nearly half a day before the plane arrived in Moscow. He had to take a piss, but couldn't move more than an inch in any direction. He was anxious to be on the ground again, in a hurry to reach his destination and finish his business so he could get back home. Jesus. He hadn't really ever thought of the place as home before, and it wouldn't remain so for long. The only slight bit of comfort the city had ever brought him was because of...her. Good God. He really was tired. Blocking out the sound of the engines, the endless drone of the man next to him, and the obnoxious in-flight movie, he tried like hell to fall asleep. Four hours later, with the sound of her laughter echoing in his mind, he actually succeeded. *** Standing in her kitchen, holding his coffee cup in two hands, Johnny met Sabryn's gaze and laughed out loud. After telling him the entire story of the plans for invasion, as she knew it, his laughter was the last thing she'd expected to hear. "You've got to be kidding me." She looked away, shaking her head slightly, plucking at the strings hanging from her cut-off jeans. "Bryn, you just met this man, and yet you're ready to believe every word he tells you? That's not the smart little sister I know." "He didn't lie to me, Johnny." "How the hell do you know? This guy followed you home. You told me yourself that you've told your abduction story to people on-line...how do you know this guy didn't find out your story and decide to use it to manipulate you?" "What the hell for?" "I don't know. Some of these guys just get off on screwing with women's heads." He set down his mug, and crossed his arms. "Did you give out your address to any of these people you talked to?" "No, of course not." "Have you given it to anyone else who knows your story?" "John, you aren't listening to me. He's telling the truth. I know it. I remember." He didn't say a word for a while. When he finally did, his voice was lowered to a whisper, almost as if afraid he might be overheard. "What do you remember?" "It's choppy. Fragmented. But when he told me about the invasion, I remembered hearing about it before. It was like deja-vu. Only stronger." "Have you had more dreams?" "I haven't slept since then." "Jesus, Bryn, no wonder you're ready to believe this shit. You're probably delirious." "I'm fine, God damn it, and stop treating me like a seven-year-old! Why can't you just believe me? I'm not a liar, and you know I wouldn't tell you something like this unless I believed it was true." "What you believe, and what you've seen for yourself are two different things." "You know, you're the last person I ever would have compared to Daddy, until now." She started to walk away from him, her hands fisted in the hem of her well-worn baseball jersey, when he grabbed her arm. "Wait a minute. I didn't say I didn't believe you." Her sudden laughter made him scowl. "You didn't have to." "Look what you're asking of me, Bryn. Just because a man believes in God, it doesn't mean he's ready to face Armageddon. I have always believed you. I just need a little time to rectify this." "We don't have time. You either accept it, or you don't." He sighed heavily, running his hand through his already mussed hair. It was more than obvious that he didn't want to believe a word she said. But she didn't really want to believe it, either. "All right...so what do we do?" She felt like kissing him. "We need supplies. Lots of them. Can Carly get them from her store?" "Jesus, I didn't even think about telling Caroline. I don't want her stressed out with the baby..." "She's a lot stronger than you think." He turned to look at the paintings lying on the floor. "When I first walked in here, I thought your imagination was working over time. I thought those paintings were just meant to sell to a certain audience...not that they were real." "I wish they weren't." "What are you going to do with them?" "Sell them. I have to. We need the money to get supplies." "What kind of supplies?" "Food, clothes, bedding, guns..." "Guns? Are you talking about fighting these...things?" "That's the idea." He shook his head, laughing without a trace of humor. "This is really fucked up." Before she could reply, he continued. "All right, let's call Mom and Dad." Maybe being destroyed by aliens wasn't such a horrible fate after all. "I, um--I need your help with something first. I need to convince Maxine to give me an advance on the sale of these paintings." "You're stalling, Bryn." "You're damned right, I am." "And what makes you think this Maxine will give you an advance, anyway?" "That's where you come in." She gave him a sly smile. *** Sabryn bit her lip, trying desperately not to laugh as she pushed open the door to the Divine Salon. The worn cedar floor below her feet did nothing to muffle her footsteps as she walked through the spacious gallery, but no one was paying any attention to her. Those that weren't admiring the art work were busy catering to the needs of one particular patron. A man who had recently acquired new wealth that was burning a hole in his pocket. A man whose daughter had just been accepted to a very prestigious dance school, and whom was looking for the right gift to surprise her with. Or so he'd have them believe. Sabryn watched the less than subdued performance her brother was putting on, and cringed. If Maxine ever believed this hoax, it would be a miracle. "Just what sort of art does your daughter like, Mr. Pruitt?" "Well now, that's the problem. See, she has peculiar tastes. Nothin' too classical for my girl." "I see. And might I add that you look quite young to have a daughter entering formal education?" "Best not let my wife catch you flirtin' with me like that, Ms. Divine." Maxine blushed, and Sabryn shook her head. She was going to kill him. Pushing past the assistants, Sabryn caught Maxine's eye and motioned her over to the side. "Max, I need to talk to you." "Can it wait? I really--" "It's pretty important. Can you maybe get one of your assistants to help that gentleman while we talk?" Playing with a strand of her platinum hair, the older woman finally agreed. She nodded to her assistant as she led Sabryn across the gallery to her desk. Sitting down behind the heavily loaded blotter, she kicked out an extra chair and motioned for Sabryn to sit. "All right. What's so important?" Without saying a word, Sabryn handed over the Polaroid pictures she'd taken of her paintings. Maxine stared at her for a moment before lifting her jewel-studded glasses and perching them on her nose. She studied the first picture for a long time. Sabryn knew it was the one she'd taken of the entire collection. It wasn't as easy to see the detail, but the effect of the paintings as a whole was striking. She licked her lips nervously, watching as the woman set down the initial picture and moved on to each individual painting. "These really don't do the paintings justice--" "Shhh." Maxine waved her hand, peering over the rim of her glasses. Studying the pictures with squinting eyes. When she reached the last painting, her eyebrows rose. Turning the picture back to Sabryn, she smirked. "I imagine it was rough working with this subject." Staring at Alex's face, all she could do was blush. Maxine looked at the picture once more, taking in the details, before laying it back down into place above the others. "They're certainly different from what I'm used to seeing from you." "I know. My style..." Maxine held up her hand once more, calling for silence. "I said they were different, but I'm certainly not complaining." Sabryn felt her heart skip a beat. It was as close to a compliment that she'd ever gotten from the dealer, and she had to fight the silly grin spreading across her face. Just as she was about to make her offer, Johnny got there one step ahead of her. Her very own mole in training. "I'm sorry, Ms. Divine, I'm just not finding what I'm looking for. Maybe I should come back some other time. Or...or maybe you could tell me of another gallery in the area that might carry something a little...supernatural?" "Supernatural?" "Yeah. You see, my little girl just loves all that stuff. Angels, aliens, demons, monsters, you name it." Maxine glanced back at the pictures in front of her, and then at Sabryn. Lowering her glasses on their beaded chain, she licked her lips. "Robert has shown you all we have here?" "Yes, Ma'am." "Did you happen to check out the works of Siqueiros or perhaps Picasso?" For a moment, Johnny looked dumbfounded, but he managed to recover himself quickly. "Those weren't quite what I had in mind." "Well, then...I don't think I'll be able to help you Perhaps you should try the Hanford Gallery over on 22nd?" "I, uh...yeah. Maybe you're right." He gave Sabryn a flustered look before quickly retreating. So much for making Maxine Divine think she had a sure sale. She hadn't even mentioned the collection. Sabryn felt her hopes sink like dead weight. "Now then, where were we?" "I'm sorry, I don't remember." "What did you call these paintings?" "'New Year's Day.'" "Rather a morbid thought." Maxine crossed her arms over her chest, looking down her thin nose at Sabryn. "I like you, Miss Jaegar, and I'd never bullshit you. I think you have talent. But there are times when I think your talent is wasted and I've told you so. I refused to show your art, and wasn't shy about telling you why. And I'm not about to be shy now." She paused, deliberately drawing out the agonizing suspense. "I'm not a fool. You don't need to send your brother, or your cousin or whomever he is, in here to tell me that your paintings are good. I don't need to be told what I know for a fact. The thing is, this is the best work I've ever seen from you." Somehow all of the oxygen had just been sucked out of the room. Sabryn had to clear her throat to speak, and when she did, her voice was pathetically weak. "Thank you." "The question is, just what are you looking for?" "Looking for?" "You've gone to an awful lot of trouble today. Why?" "I need an advance, in cash, on the sale of these paintings." The woman nearly choked. "You must be joking." "No. Max, you know I've never been the type to boast over my own work. Several times I was even afraid to show you a certain piece because I thought it wasn't good enough, but you assured me otherwise. This time is different. I know these paintings are good. Whether or not they will sell is your department. You know the market much better than I do, even though I've made it my business to learn." "But you expect them to sell?" "Yes." She leaned forward, looking at the Polaroids herself. "I'm not asking for much. Merely a fraction of what they're worth." "How much?" "Five thousand." Maxine laughed out loud. It had to have been the first time Sabryn had ever heard the sound. "You think I just leave that kind of money lying around?" "I know you have a safe on the premises. And if not, you have access to it." Narrowing her eyes, the older woman stared at her for an endless moment. "Fine. I'll have Robert stop by your apartment to pick up the paintings some time tomorrow. When they're in my possession, you'll get your money." Somewhere in the back of her mind, the Hallelujah Chorus began playing. "Thank you, Max. I really appreciate this." "Don't thank me yet, sweetie. I want those paintings." "You'll have them." She was walking on a cloud. All the way across that gallery and out the door, barely even noticing her brother until he caught her by the arm. "Well?" "We did it!" "You're kidding?" She shook her head, finally releasing a giggle as he pulled her into his embrace. She patted him on the back before letting him go. "Thank you, John." "I didn't do a damned thing." "I know." He pinched her arm, causing her to laugh even harder. Walking her back to the apartment, his arm around her shoulders, he didn't say a word until they were almost there. "You didn't want to sell it, did you?" "The collection?" "No. His portrait. I saw the look on your face when she was looking at that picture. You looked heart-broken." She didn't bother to answer. "You're in love with him, aren't you?" "Johnny, I'm going to tell you five little words that have always come in handy as your sister...it's none of your business." *** Alex leaned back against the brocaded wallpaper, listening to the lazy cease of the bed springs and the soft lilt of a woman's laughter in the next room. Early morning sunlight spilled through the open window, and he stifled a yawn. During the flight and shift in time zones, he'd lost an entire day...and with only weeks remaining until invasion, that was a sobering thought. Waiting quietly, looking like some sort of satyr in the decidedly feminine powder room, he finally heard the sound of soft footfalls nearing the door. A masculine whisper, rumbling so deep he couldn't hear the words, followed. And when the door opened, there was a fraction of a second when he could have been spotted. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, before being hidden behind the open door, and then reappeared once more as the door was closed in her wake. She yelped, her naked breasts bobbing, before sighing heavily and glaring at him. "Sasha?" her husband called, from the other side of the door. "It's all right, Ivan," she answer in heavily accented English. "I only stubbed my toe." Turning her emerald gaze back to Alex, she licked her kiss-swollen lips. Fresh from the general's bed, Sasha Minskya looked every bit as beautiful as the last time he'd seen her. Flushed with sweat, her flame-gold hair tousled and damp, her lips slack with desire, her nipples peaked with arousal, her skin reeking of sex...only this time, she smelled of another man instead of him. Fucking a fellow officer's wife had never been a hardship. He gave her what she wanted, and she gave him what he needed. Still, he'd never come to her when Ivan was so close. And he'd never reached for her with the vision of another woman in his mind. "You have to be crazy coming here like this." "I need you, Sasha." She smiled, revealing the gap between her teeth, the only slight detractor to her beauty. "I would be happy to accommodate, but Ivan is here. And I do not think he would like that much. Too bad you did not make your presence known earlier...you could have joined us." "My loss," he said quietly, taking advantage of the view she provided. He watched her casually walk to the sink and wet a wash cloth under the steaming water. "Fortunately, that's not what I came for." "Oh?" "I need you to get me the vaccine." She met his gaze in the mirror, her eyes laughing as she wiped the cloth over her sweaty body. "And what makes you think I would do this?" "I know you will." She laughed softly, rubbing the cloth under her breasts, down her belly to the fiery curls before sliding it between her legs. She smirked at the rapt attention on his face. "You don't know anything, Comrade Krycek. You think I fuck you for fun? I've been playing you for years." Alex had to smile, although begrudgingly. "That became blindingly clear to me when I tried to talk to Viktor just now. I was refused." She grinned, slipping the wet cloth back under the hot water. "We had quite a talk about you and your jaunts to America." "Exactly. Which is why I want you to get the vaccine for me. Thanks to you, I'm not trusted anymore. And I'd really like to keep a low profile." She pivoted to face him, crossing her arms under her breasts to prop them up even higher. "Nyet. You obviously did not hear me. I will not do anything for you." "Oh yes, you will, Sasha. Or should I call you Laura Scott?" She blanched, losing her smug posture. "W-What?" "You suddenly seem to be missing your Russian accent, darling. Seems I'm not the only double agent in the room. You really didn't give a damn about what I was doing in America, did you, Laura? Ivan was starting to suspect you and you blew my cover to save your own ass." She swallowed heavily, nodding, not bothering to lie. "Fucking me was just a little bonus, wasn't it?" "I have to admit you're better than a man twice my age." "But I wasn't as gullible as Ivan, was I?" "Ivan is in love with me. A man will do almost anything for the woman he loves. Isn't that right, Alex?" "What are you talking about?" "The boy...Dmitri. You lost him to that blond whore because you were too dumb-struck in her presence to think with your brain instead of your dick." "I was never in love with Marita Covarrubias." "Perhaps not...but you were close. I'm sure it wouldn't take much to make you fall hard." "Get me the vaccine so I can get the hell out of this country." "That may take a few days." "You have until tomorrow night...before I have a little talk with Ivan." She glared at him. "And what do you want the vaccine for, Comrade? I know for a fact that you've already had it." "Just get it." He headed for the window, prepared to leave the same way he came in, when he heard her say, "It's for a woman, isn't it, Alexei?" Her soft but arrogant laughter followed him all the way outside. *** Part Eleven: Storm Warning Summary: You don't always have to wait for danger to come calling. For my own brother and sister, with love. "There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm." She was grateful John and Caroline had found a baby-sitter. Their kids certainly didn't need to witness this spectacle. Early Friday morning, they'd driven north to Pennsylvania. Two hours stuck in a car, trying to provide answers to the rapid-fire questions leaving her sister-in-law's mouth. True, Carly had been a lot stronger than Johnny anticipated, taking the story of the earth's invasion in stride...much as she once had when told of Sabryn's abduction. Being the careful planner that she was, she made a list of all the supplies Sabryn thought they might need. Still, it was obvious the woman was petrified. A short while later, however, standing in her mother's kitchen, the childish side of Sabryn found it very hard to sympathize. Bernadette Pruitt doted over her petite daughter-in-law, showing her the sweater she'd knitted for the baby, barely giving her own daughter a second glance. In the other room, Johnny and their father were arguing...no doubt over the "ridiculous" story Steven had just heard about the end of the world. Sabryn braced her hands on the counter behind her, wanting nothing more than to disappear. In a lot of ways, she already had. "What the hell is this bullshit?" She flinched as her father strode through the door, looking haggard but no less intimidating than he always had. His hair had gone sterling and there were deep lines around his eyes, but it didn't change his handsome face. His hands were callused, perpetually dirty no matter how many times he washed, and she loved him desperately. Even if he didn't deserve it. He stopped before her, scowling, glancing back and Johnny and Carly before continuing. "You started this, didn't you? What the hell kind of story did you come up with this time?" "Dad--" "Shut up, John. Let your sister answer." Sabryn held his gaze, not daring to back down. "It's not a story. And whether you believe it or not, it is going to happen." "What is?" her mother asked, with a trace of irritation. "An invasion of earth by aliens. On New Year's day." Bernadette laughed, placing her hand on Carly's shoulder. Sabryn's sister-in-law met her gaze and swallowed heavily. "I don't give a damn whether you believe me or not--" "Watch your mouth, young lady." "I just wanted to give you fair warning. I thought you deserved that much." Her mother laughed again, and her father shot her a dark look. "Cool it, Bennie." Turning back to Sabryn, he wiped his hand over his bristly jaw. "Suppose you tell us just where you came up with this little theory?" "A friend told me." "A friend. I just don't know what the hell to believe from you anymore." "Do you think I'd tell you a lie about this just to get you riled? To play mind games?" "You've lied before, Mandy." "My name is Sabryn." Johnny stepped away from his wife's side. "What could she possibly have had to lie about, Dad? She was a little girl." "She was a little girl, out late at night, who knew she'd get her butt beat if she didn't tell us where the hell she'd been." Sabryn shook her head. "I did tell you...and it didn't save me any trouble, did it?" "You told us an outrageous story. What the hell did you expect?" She was so tired of arguing about this. For eighteen long years she'd tried to get them to see the truth, but they refused to have any part of it. That wasn't about to change now. "Coming here was pointless. I haven't been welcome in this house since I was seven." "That's not true," Bernadette said, "we just didn't want to hear your stories." "Well, you know what, Ma? I don't want to hear anything from you. One of these days you're going to wish you'd listened to me. And it'll be too damned late." She pushed past Johnny and her father, heading outside and slamming the screen door behind her. *** Nearly an hour later, her brother found her on the hill overlooking the little stream that ran through the property. Sitting on her coat in the wet grass, petting the muzzle of her favorite palomino quarter horse, she stared off into the distance. Searching the sky that had once swallowed her whole. "This is the last place I would have expected to find you," Johnny said, patting Whisky's neck. "Are we ready to leave?" "Not just yet. Caroline's trying to talk some sense into Mom and Dad." "They always did like her better." "That's not true, and you know it." "Do I, John? Dad treats the horses better than he treats me." He glanced back to where the dapple gray gelding was grazing, and shook his head. "It only seems that way because the horses can't talk back." When she didn't comment, he continued. "If I remember right, Dad bought Whisky for your sixteenth birthday. And he bought Moonshine so he could go riding with you. But you never wanted to go. You turned him away just as much as he did you." "No, I didn't. Would you really want to go riding with someone who only wanted to talk about the one thing you were afraid of? The thing he called you a liar for?" "Maybe he was trying to understand, Bryn?" "'Could have fooled me." Johnny crouched down next to her, pushing a stray hair away from her face...giving her no choice but to look at him. "You can't expect them to change when you aren't any less hostile yourself." "I don't expect anything from them. I just wanted to tell them what I know. And now that I have, I'm ready to go." He was silent for a moment, watching the stream carry away dead leaves. "Why did you come down here? You haven't been back here for longer than I can remember. This stream used to scare you to death. You refused to learn to swim just because you hated the water." She couldn't answer him, because she wasn't so sure herself. She hated this field. Hated the property. As soon as Johnny had gotten a place of his own all those years ago, she'd begged him to take her with him. She wanted to get away from this town, away from her parents, away from this stream. But she couldn't escape the nightmares. "I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to see it one more time. Prove I survived." "Prove to yourself it wasn't a dream?" "That too." She met his gaze. "Why wouldn't they believe their own daughter, Johnny?" "They're scared. Admitting you told the truth means they have to admit to a bunch of things they never believed in. Hell, I'm not even sure they believe in God." He put his hand over hers. "They're just a bunch of stubborn old fools. They'll come around. Give 'em time." She had to laugh, but it didn't last long. "We don't have time. The clock is ticking." "I know. And if they're too stupid to realize that, then we'll go without them." She stood up, shaking the water droplets from her coat, giving Whisky one last scratch on the forehead. "I sometimes wonder how things would have been different if I'd never told Mom and Daddy about that night. If I hadn't said a word to any of them." "I'm sure things would have been a lot different." She wrinkled her nose. "I might be married to Paul Van Horn right now." Taking Johnny's arm as they walked back to the house, Sabryn stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. "Nope, I wouldn't change a thing." *** Blowing hot air into his cupped hands, Alex huddled deeper into his coat and watched the horizon. Sunset bathed the snowy hills in shades of pink and orange. From where he stood, just outside the gates of the general's property, he could see the helicopter landing a short distance from the house. Churning up powdery snow and loose debris, creating a small whirlwind of Sasha Minskya's hair as she stepped out of the aircraft. She glanced back at the house, holding her fur-embellished hat to her head, before hurrying down the hill towards the fences. The snow nearly covered her knee-high boots, landing in huge lumpy flakes on her red hair. As she reached the fence, opposite from where he stood, she handed over a small pouch and began to walk away. "Hold on!" Alex shouted, inspecting the pouch's contents. "I got what you wanted," she said, her accent having returned. "Now let me go." "What will you do?" "I'll pray my husband did not notice my absence this morning, that's what I'll do." "No, I don't mean now. What will you do when they come?" She paused, and turned to look back at him. "What do you care?" "Screw Ivan. Get the hell out of here and save your own ass." Stepping back to where he stood, she grabbed hold of the bars of the heavy iron fencing. "You know just as well as I do that Ivan is my only ticket to freedom. If I run, I'm as good as dead...but if I stay with him, I am almost guaranteed safety from the colonists." "He'll betray you." "He loves me." "I know his type. He would kill you just to save himself. Get out of here while you still have time." In the distance, the sound of engines starting made Sasha shudder. She glanced back at the house and Alex looked over her shoulder. Two men, riding black snow mobiles left the building at high speed, heading straight for the main gates. "He's here. He knows I've been gone." She stared up at him with wide eyes, her hands tightening on the bars. "You have to get out of here." "Squeeze through the bars, come with me. Get the hell away from him." She reached through the fence, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer for one last kiss. Pushing the pouch he held even tighter into his hands, she said, "Go save her, Alexei. Don't waste your time with me." Before he could reach for her, she ran back up the hill, towards the speeding snow mobiles, and he barely heard the sound of gun shots over the loud engines. He flinched, watching as she shot one of the drivers, sending him careening down the hill. But as Alex ran back to the car that was waiting for him, the second blast of gun fire was one he didn't witness. He only had a brief glimpse of Sasha's body lying on the ground as his driver sped them away. Cursing silently to himself, he tucked the pouch she'd given him into his pocket. A small vial of the serum was wrapped securely inside. Enough for maybe four people. If he could get it to them safely. The general's men were sure to be on his ass now. It was only a matter of time. *** His return flight to the States was still hours away. After sitting in a darkened corner of the airport restaurant for endless minutes, drinking cup after cup of bitter black coffee, he stepped into the men's room and headed for an empty urinal. Just as he was about to unzip his pants, he heard the door open. He looked up. Too many times of being caught off-guard had taught him a lesson. The grizzled old man walking in the room gave him a nod and went to the sinks to wash his hands. Slightly more at ease, Alex went about his business, barely paying attention to the man behind him. A few minutes later, he zipped up and headed to the sink himself. He didn't notice until then the pink water disappearing down the drain. He looked over at the man, saw the blood on his hands, and immediately reached for his gun...only to remember too late that it wasn't there. In the same instance, the old man reached inside his coat and pulled out a silenced, customized Glock. Aimed at Alex's throat. He froze, not daring to move, looking into those steady black eyes. The eyes of a professional, long in the business, probably retired before he went to work for Ivan Minsky. For a moment, neither of them made a sound. The rush of running water and the people walking by outside was the only break in the silence. When the man finally spoke, his raspy voice made his Russian words almost indistinguishable. "Give me what you've stolen." Alex didn't waste time lying. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch. Careful to keep his movements non-threatening. Once the pouch was in his hand, the old man gestured with the gun. "Turn around and face the wall." "Don't want to look me in the eye when you kill me?" Despite his arrogant comment, Alex did as he was told. "Just make sure you hit something vital." "Do not worry, Comrade. I don't plan to leave you living." "Just one more thing..." "What?" Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out the syringe, carefully popping off the needle cover before he held it up in the air. "I forgot to give you this." His gun to Alex's back, the old man reached for the needle. Just as he did, Alex reached out with his leg, hooking his foot around the back of the man's knee, pulling forward, sending him falling back to the ground. The gun shot missed him by a fraction of an inch. Ducking, he rolled out of the way, using his only weapon, stabbing the man right in the crotch with the exposed needle. The old man howled in pain, grabbing at the syringe, his shout sending an alarm to the men waiting outside. Fuck! Just as they rushed through the doors, Alex punched the old man hard and wrenched his gun out of his hand. Two shots took down the first man, sprawling him hard on the floor. The second man took one look at the gun aimed at him and ran. The door swung shut just as he rounded the corner. Letting out a heavy breath, Alex stood up and checked the man on the ground. He was definitely dead. The old man however was still moaning in pain, holding his bloody crotch, having thrown the needle to the floor. Standing over him, Alex grabbed his pouch and put it back in his pocket. Looking the old man in the eye, he pressed the gun hard against his forehead. "This is for Sasha." The man's body jerked as he pulled the trigger, and then went still. Once more, the only sound in the room was that of the running water. Using his shirt to wipe his prints from the gun, Alex stepped over to the sink and finally washed his hands. Minutes later, he left the men's room, looking to find a quiet place to wait for his flight. He didn't hear a murmur about the mess in the rest room until he was already boarding the plane. *** Sabryn sat down on her bed, absently rubbing the back of her neck, wishing the day were over...and then silently chastising herself for the very thought. As much as she was glad she was home again, away from her parents' accusing glares, there was so little time left that she had to make an effort to savor every moment. But there was still so much to do. Even though her parents stubbornly refused to believe any part of her story, there were other people she had to tell...others that might actually believe her, and take action to save their own skin. Her lap top sat open before her, the cursor blinking impatiently, as she debated whether or not to tell Agent Mulder about the impending invasion. He was a Federal agent...surely that meant he would be required to tell others of the news. And Alex had warned her that could cause total chaos. But maybe it didn't have to be that way. Agent Mulder--Fox--was a friend. She had to tell him something, or she'd never forgive herself. Biting her lip, Sabryn leaned forward and began typing.
Sabryn slipped off the bed and straightened her baggy sweats. It was just her luck that someone would show up when she had a freshly scrubbed face, wild hair, and was wearing the ugliest outfit she owned. Praying fervently that it wasn't Alex, she stepped around the paintings on the floor. And then she breathed a sigh of relief. It was probably Robert. Maxine had said she would send him out to pick up the paintings. Opening the door, she tried to put on her best smile. Yet she'd never seen the man standing in her hallway before in her life. Her gaze took in everything at once, from the wild eyes to the leather-gloved hands. The way he stared far too openly at her, and the paintings lying behind her. The smell of alcohol on his skin, and sweat, and smoke. The slight smirk that curled his lips. And before she could even get the words "can I help you" out of her mouth, an even stronger voice screamed at her from inside her head. *Run!* She didn't waste a second. *** Part Twelve: Sanctuary Summary: Sometimes life can make nightmares seem tame. For Ginny, with chocolate-covered waterfall man wishes! "Fear the goat from the front, the horse from the rear, and man from all sides" She hadn't taken more than a few steps before he sprung from where he stood and began the chase. She leapt over her paintings, making a mad dash towards the window and the fire escape, her scream only slightly louder than his heavy footfalls on the floor. Mere feet from the window, she was knocked off her feet and crashed heavily to the floor, her elbow smacking hard on the wood, his weight knocking the very breath from her lungs. She gasped painfully, her fingernails scratching against the wood floor, trying desperately to crawl out from under him. But he was too strong. The awful smell of him surrounded her. Rancid sweat and alcohol, wrapping around her just as tightly as his hands. And even though he didn't have an arm around her throat, she was choking just the same. He flipped her over to face him, quickly grabbing her scratching hands and pinning them to the floor. She bucked hard against him, trying to push him off, to get free, to get enough breath to scream again, but it was no use. "Where is he?" His harsh voice, combined with liquor-infused breath, was like a slap in the face. Sabryn tried to scream, but the only sound to leave her mouth was a shrill gasp. "Where is Krycek?" Oh God. For a split-second, she forgot to fight him. He was after Alex. She narrowed her eyes, her voice coming out of her mouth in a forced whisper. "Fuck you." She wasn't prepared for the blow that slammed into her cheek and had her seeing stars. She blinked away the pain, watching him move one hand to his belt buckle. No! Struggling hard against his grip, she tried to scream again. A bit louder this time. The sound echoed off her walls with beautiful pitch. God, he was strong. She could barely move her numbing fingers as he flipped open his belt and began working on his zipper. Her legs kicked out uselessly beneath him. And when he leaned forward to yank on the waist band of her sweats, his coat fell open and for the first time she spotted the gun in the holster at his side. Busy with her squirming body, he didn't notice the angle of his arm until it was too late. She bit down hard into his forearm, her teeth cutting through flesh, making him loosen his grip and howl in pain. He slapped her again, hard enough to stun, but not hard enough to keep her from wrenching one hand away from his grasp. She locked her fingers around the butt of his pistol and yanked. But she wasn't fast enough. He knocked the weapon out of her hands, sending it careening across the floor and slamming to a stop against the wall. Way too far away. Out of options, she fought him the only way she could. Kicking, biting, scratching, screaming. Wriggling away from his grip as he dragged her sweat pants down her legs. Yelling, scratching at the floor in a desperate attempt to gain leverage. Kicking at him, pummeling his face as he made a grab for her and tore her satin panties. Scraping his face with her fingernails, dodging his blows as he tried to hit her again. Scrambling out from under him, crawling across the floor, only to be dragged back again. Back-handing his jaw, slamming her elbow into neck, and struggling free once more. Heading for the bed, hurrying, whimpering, screaming for help, trying desperately to reach the only chance she had at survival. He threw himself on top of her again, shoving down his own pants, tearing at her panties once more, slamming a fist against her head to slow her down. And even though she felt the shadowy embrace of unconsciousness beckoning, she fought it with all her might. Feeling the hot sting of his flesh against her backside, dragging their weight across the floor, reaching, stretching, feeling the smooth contours of a shoe box with her fingertips, pulling, toppling, fighting his weight, fighting his violation, welcoming the cold kiss of metal, wrapping her fingers tight around the handle. His cry of outrage when he saw the gun in her hand was like no sound she'd ever heard before. He reached for it, trying to wrench it away, to smash her fingers against the grip and get her to release it, but she wasn't about to let go. He was so strong, so damned forceful, but he underestimated her. She'd faced little green men. One human male wasn't about to stop her. She twisted against his grip, pushing hard, gaining leverage, fighting him, crying out with the agony of her muscles, struggling to force the muzzle just a little bit closer. She flinched when her finger pressed down hard against the trigger, but nothing happened. Cursing rapidly, she somehow managed to drag her thumb out from under his palm and flick off the safety. The second time she pulled the trigger, the boom was loud enough start her ears ringing. Shoving towards him, one more time, nearly out of strength but high on determination and adrenaline, she forced the muzzle at his face and fired. Sabryn gasped, flinching hard when the blood hit her face, slamming her eyelids closed against the sight of his head erupting like a volcano. And in the sudden awful silence that followed, she finally heard the horrible sound of her own breathing. She was whimpering, emitting cries like a tortured animal. Lying on her back next to her bed, her pants around her ankles, a dead man sprawled across her chest. A moment later, she could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she scrambled out from beneath him and stood up, shaking, to yank her sweats back into place. Still backing away, she hit the wall of windows and stopped, staring at the mangled body, holding the gun so tightly in her grip that she couldn't have pried it loose had she wanted to. Her teeth rattled together, her whole body vibrating with the force of her tremors, and she glanced back at the open doorway to see Mrs. Kitts nervously peer into the room. The little old woman took one look at the man on the floor, covered her mouth, and fled. Sabryn couldn't blame her. She couldn't even close her eyes without seeing the awful image. Finally remembering the open laptop on her bed, she slid carefully onto the mattress and began typing.
She closed down her computer and headed for the phone. She was amazed the operator could understand her, given how shaky her voice was. And when the police finally arrived, she wanted nothing more than to sit in a dark corner and rock herself to sleep. Caught in never-ending darkness, somewhere over the ocean, Alex turned restlessly in his tiny coach-class seat, caught in the claws of a raging nightmare. From the moment he'd sat down, many hours ago, he'd slept on undisturbed, exhausted from the trip and short period of time he'd spent in Moscow. But just like every other time he slept, the peace didn't last for long. The dreams were never the same, but always carried the same flavor, the absolute terror as someone chased him, mercilessly, until he couldn't run anymore. Until he had no choice but to feel death seize him by the throat and give him a shake. And like every time before, he awoke with a scream The young woman seated next to him started and gave a nervous laugh as he bolted upright in his seat. Sweaty and breathing heavily, he turned to glance at her and ran his hand through his hair. "Bad dream?" she asked. Nodding curtly, he stood up and pushed past her, making his way to the narrow aisle and fighting to get past the dozens of passengers between him and the bathroom. Once he reached the back of the plane, he waited impatiently for the plump man in front of him to squeeze past, and then finally locked himself into the cramped bathroom. He braced his arm against the wall, fighting nausea, not in the least interested in vomiting into the ugly blue water in the toilet. When his breathing returned to normal and his nausea passed, he turned on the sink and splashed cold water on his face. His reflection in the mirror stared back at him, eyes laced with red, lines of exhaustion creasing his forehead, hair matted with sweat and yet sticking up haphazardly in some areas. He looked closer to fifty than thirty-five. Wiping the water droplets of his face, he dug in his pocket for the glass bottle that contained the black oil vaccine. It was heavy in his hand, like a bar of gold. And what an appropriate analogy, he thought to himself. One little bottle of this stuff could make him a very rich man. When it all came down to it, some people might sell their own souls just to get their hands on this stuff. And Sasha had thought he wanted it for the girl. He couldn't help the slight smile that grew on his face as Sabryn's laughter echoed through his mind. No, Sasha didn't know him very well. Once a selfish bastard, always a selfish bastard. Nothing, not even a few nights of good sex was going to change that. *** Sabryn leaned against her counter, the room about her a blur, wincing slightly as the medic dabbed ointment on her cheek, listening to the droning sound of the officer's questions. Everything was so damned fuzzy, so far away, that she wasn't even sure if she was answering the right questions. Had she been raped? No. Had she ever seen the man before? No. Did she know what he was after...had he meant to steal something or was he a rapist? No, no, a thousand times no. She just didn't know. Sinking down against the counter, looking past the small crowd around her, she watched as two men wearing rubber gloves zipped the man on her floor into a black bag. They'd confiscated her gun, asked to see her license, taken pictures of the scene, asked her a million things she couldn't or didn't want to understand. She held a shaky hand to her mouth, trying not to be sick, closing her eyes against the awful pounding of her head. And when Agent Mulder walked into the room like a breath a fresh air, followed closely by a pretty red-head, she almost broke down in sobs. Managing to hold on to her sanity, just for a moment longer, she scrambled to her feet and grabbed hold of his sleeve like a life line. The woman, she assumed was his partner, Agent Scully, showed her badge to the questioning officer and began talking to him. Barely aware of his words, Sabryn allowed Fox to pull her into an awkward embrace, her body stiff in his arms. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine," she said, her voice barely audible. He shifted, most likely looking back at the body bag they were hauling away. "Did you know him?" "No. He just came in and attacked me." He was silent for a moment, rubbing her back, trying to coax some warmth into her body. She couldn't stop shaking. "Have you given them a statement?" God, she wasn't sure. Her mind was like a giant ball of cobwebs. It was amazing she could understand what he was saying. "I don't think so." He turned slightly, pulling away from her. "Sabryn, this is my partner, Dana Scully. Is it ok if she takes a look at you? She's a doctor." Swallowing heavily, Sabryn met the woman's warm blue eyes and nodded. Agent Scully took her carefully by the arm and led her a short distance away. Away from the bed, towards the door, where she wouldn't be as bothered by the sight of them loading the body. And as she absently watched Fox talking to the detectives, his partner began examining the bruises on her body. "I'm sorry to have to meet you like this, Sabryn." She nodded slightly, wincing as Agent Scully held up a small pen light to look in her eyes. "You don't seem to have a concussion. That's good." She smiled, putting Sabryn at ease. She could easily tell why Fox was so fascinated by her. She was very gentle and soft-spoken, her movements precise and unalarming. "I know you already said no to the officer, but I need to ask you again. Were you in any way sexually assaulted?" "No. He tried...but I--I shot him first." Agent Scully nodded. "All right." Glancing down at the floor beside her, she noticed the paintings that everyone had been side-stepping with little thought. "Did you paint these?" "Yes." "They're very good." Sabryn had the brief impression that there was something the agent wasn't telling her. But like so many other thoughts, it drifted away as quickly as it had come. "Can....can I call my brother?" The other woman nodded. "You might want to tell him to meet you at the police station. I'm sure you'll need to answer more questions and give a statement." Sabryn nodded, heading to the phone on shaky legs, barely noticing the bee line Agent Scully made straight for her partner. Dialing with trembling fingers, she waited impatiently for her brother to pick up the other end of the line. When he did, she almost sagged to the floor in relief. "Johnny, I need you." *** What seemed like hours later, Sabryn finished giving her statement and answering questions, only to sink onto a waiting bench outside what she assumed was an interrogation room. It all felt so fucking mechanical. Like someone else was using her brain. Her voice came out of her mouth, so monotoned, so quiet, and she didn't feel much of anything. But as she sat there staring at the wall, the image of that bloodied and massacred head flashed across her mind for the millionth time, and she ran to the ladies' room across the hall. Barely into the awaiting stall, she retched painfully and clung pathetically to the porcelain rim of the toilet. She'd just killed a man. In her own home. Her sanctuary. One slight flick of a trigger, and she'd splattered his brains all over the floor. Her stomach clenched one last time, even though there was nothing in there to get rid of. She sank back to the floor, her head against the wall of the stall, trying so hard to stop the spinning of the room around her. Breathing heavily, a foul taste in her mouth, she reached over and had to use all of her remaining strength to flush the toilet. Her cheeks blazed even redder as she heard the rest room door open. She could see a pair of dark heels crossing the floor, and a moment later Agent Scully pushed open the door of her stall. "Are you all right?" She nodded slightly, and with the agent's help, pushed herself to her feet. Staggering to the sink to rinse out her mouth and wash away the awful taste. If only she could wash away the memory so easily. God. She looked in the mirror and blinked twice. She didn't even recognize herself. Her skin was pale white, ashen, her eyes vacant and dead. Turning her gaze slightly, she caught Agent Scully looking at her. "How do you do this?" "Excuse me?" "You've killed people before, haven't you? How do you handle it?" The agent looked away, a slight smile curving her lips. "A sense of humor and a lot of hours spent in confession." Somehow, Sabryn managed to crack a smile. "But the first time--" "The first time was a lot like this, I imagine. The only difference is, I had the knowledge that what I was doing was for my job and my country. I can't say I understand how you feel right now, because I don't." "It must be nice having someone there to rely on. Agent Mulder, I mean." "Yes, Mulder does make it easier...most of the time. Then there are other times when I'm tempted to shoot him instead. I've only had to give in to the temptation once." "You shot him?" "Yes. He was about to kill a suspect, and I couldn't let him do that without knowing the truth behind the incident." Agent Scully tilted her head to the side, smoothly steering the subject back to the original topic. "Surely you have someone to rely on. Your brother? Or...the man in your painting, perhaps?" Sabryn almost laughed. "I can rely on my brother, yes. As for the other...it's a gamble." "Is he a lover?" Clearing her throat, Sabryn stepped across the room and grabbed a towel from the dispenser. "He's a friend." "A very good friend." "Yes." Crossing her arms, she tried to change the subject. Surely this woman was just being curious and friendly, trying to take her mind off of what had happened. But her questions were making Sabryn uneasy. "Maybe we should go outside. See if my brother is here?" Agent Scully nodded. Stepping out into the hallway, Sabryn saw her brother in a hushed conversation with Fox. The look on his face was more than just one of concern. She could also see anger, suspicion, and something else she couldn't put a name to. Calling out his name, her voice shaky and raspy, she was relieved when he turned to face her and a stunning smile crossed his face. Without one word to Agent Mulder, he crossed the space between them, his eyes watery, and pulled her hard into his embrace. Nearly crushing her with the effort to hold her to his chest. And the tremors running through his body were almost enough to make her cry. "God, sweetheart, I was so fucking scared..." She wrapped her arms around him, holding on tight, more for his sake than her own. She hadn't seen him look so worried since that night when she was seven. "I'm ok, Johnny. I'm ok." *** It was almost four in the morning by the time they returned to her apartment. Some sort of crime scene clean up crew had obviously just finished their work, by the strong chemical scent in the air. But despite all of their scrubbing they still hadn't been able to get rid of the dark stain marring her wood floor. She swallowed heavily, staring around her apartment, seeing it with new eyes. Nothing was familiar anymore. It was tarnished, ruined. And she wanted nothing more than to pack up her belongings and go. Over the past few days, she'd started boxing up essential items, getting ready for the move north. She had intended to save her clothing for last. Funny how now that she wasn't supposed to leave the area, it was the one thing she couldn't wait to do. Being quiet and leaving her a bit of privacy, Johnny started taking her boxes down to the car and said their good-byes to the agents. Fox and Agent Scully had stayed by her side the entire night. She was grateful for that much. Their steady presence was possibly the only thing to keep her sane. As she pulled her suitcase out from beneath the bed, careful to avoid the stain on the other side of the bed, her movements were once more automatic. Mechanically efficient. Folding clothes and jamming them into place without much thinking. In a hurry to get to her brother's home and embrace her niece and nephew. To get the hell away from here and never look back. But as her gaze skipped over the paintings on the floor, she knew there was one last stop she'd have to make. In all of the chaos, she'd never even noticed if Robert had stopped by to pick up the paintings. If she wanted to sell them, she was just going to have to drop them off herself. *** Against all better judgment, instead of going straight home, Alex found himself pulling his truck to a stop just down the street from Sabryn's apartment. He argued with himself for a moment about whether or not to go in, but he'd gotten this far. What was the harm in going a bit farther? Stepping onto the street, he closed the door behind him and set the alarm. Yet he'd only taken a few steps before he noticed the police tape that had once barred her door. Before he saw her brother's somber face as he carried boxes from her apartment and stored them in his car. Before Alex's own heartbeat tripled to a furious rate in his chest. He picked up his footsteps, heading straight for the stair well, only to be stopped in his tracks by the tall blond man. Johnny stared at him, something dangerous flickering in his gaze, his hand shoved hard against Alex's chest. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" "What happened?" "It's none of your fucking business. Get the hell out of here before I call the cops." Alex pushed past him, heading for the stairs once more, only to be shoved hard against the wall. Pinned by a man who had the body of a linebacker, he stared up at the open doorway. "Is she all right?" "I said, get out of here!" "I don't give a damn what you said. Get the fuck out of my way." He wasn't as big as her brother, but he was faster. Slipping under his arm, Alex raced up the stairs, Johnny hot on his heels, cursing like hell. And when he stepped through the doorway and met her startled gaze, he didn't give a damn that he was about to be pummeled unmercifully. She was alive. *** Part Thirteen: No One Else On Earth Summary: How strong is strong enough? For Marina, Queen of Denial. Danke! "The greatness of a man's power is the measure of his surrender." She stared at him, the expression on her face somewhere between shock and indifference, only blinking when her brother seized him by the collar and began to drag him back outside. "Johnny, it's ok." Her voice sounded cold, lifeless, nearly as much as the hollow depths of her gaze. The gash on her face added the only bit of color to her sallow skin. Bruises dotted her arms, ringed her wrists, and the only thing he could think about was killing the bastard that did this to her. But when he saw the dark stain on the floor next to where she was standing, something told him he was too late. "John, let him go." Alex glared at her brother over his shoulder, and the taller man grudgingly released him. "I don't think you need any visitors at this hour, Bryn." "I don't think I need you making that or any decision for me." The irrational impulse to smile made Alex clear his throat. Unwilling to give up so easily, her brother leaned against the wall and waited. In no hurry to leave. Sabryn picked up another of her shirts and began folding. "Don't you have some boxes you could be loading, John?" Grumbling under his breath, he picked up another stack of cardboard boxes and headed for the door. "I'll be just downstairs. Yell if you need me." Alex watched him depart out of the corner of his eye. "He doesn't like me very much." "What are you doing back here?" "I told you I'd come back." "I never really believed you." "No one ever does." He stepped around the paintings, walking over to where she stood. As he reached up to touch her face, she flinched and backed away. "What happened to you?" "Why don't you read the police report? It's all there." Jesus. "What happened, Sabryn?" "A man came here looking for you." The dead weight that settled over him was like green storm clouds rolling in. Ominous and sickening, full of dread. He didn't even recognize his own voice. "What did he do to you?" She swallowed heavily, laying the shirt in the suitcase with the others. "I took care of myself. You don't need to worry about it." He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "What did he do to you?" "Nothing." But her eyes told a different story. Her gaze was just as scared and wounded as the rest of her was bruised. She couldn't meet his stare, trembled beneath his touch. His eyes swept down the length of her body, taking in the wrinkled sweats, the sagging waist band, the barely noticeable edge of her torn panties, and something savage broke lose in his chest. He dragged her closer, despite her pushing hands, and pulled one side of her pants down her hip. He stared, horrified at the jagged tear in her satin underwear, and then looked up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her hands still pushing against his chest, and he had to swallow heavily as he carefully pulled her pants back into place. His voice was little more than a growl. "Did he hurt you?" She shook her head. "Look at me." When she finally opened her eyes, instead of seeing tears, he was surprised to be met with unmistakable anger. "No, he didn't hurt me. He tried, and I blew his fucking head off. Satisfied?" Stunned, he didn't make a move when she pushed away from him and turned back to her clothes once more. Christ. He didn't remember ever being speechless before in his life. For several long minutes, he just stared at her. "I really don't need your help, so you can go now." "What, uh--where are you going?" "To my brother's house." "The hell you are." She paused in mid-motion. "What?" "You're coming with me." Turning around, she pinned him with a lethal glare. "You almost got me killed, and I'm going to die in a few weeks anyway...or so you've said. I think I'll take my chances with my brother." "Your brother may have brute force, but he doesn't know what the hell he's doing." "My brother taught me how to shoot. I think we'll be just fine." "He doesn't know who he's up against. I don't trust him." "Oh yeah? Well I don't trust you as far as I can shoot you." He stepped forward, menacingly, giving her no choice but to back up, pinning her legs between him and the bed. "I'm not giving you a choice, Sabryn. Pack your things. You're coming home with me." *** By the time she finally locked up her apartment and followed him down the stairs, Sabryn hadn't stopped glaring at him once. Although she didn't throw a childish tantrum, her opinion was made clear all the same. Carrying her heavy suitcase, Alex had to stop in his tracks as her brother appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "What's going on?" "She's coming with me." "Over my dead body." "That can be arranged." "Stop!" They both turned and looked at her. Running a shaky hand through her hair, she glanced at her brother. "Johnny, he's right. That man didn't just pick me at random. He came after me for a reason, and I have no idea if he was the only one. What if someone else comes looking for me while I'm staying with you, Carly, and the kids? I don't want to put you in danger like that. And Alex can protect me." "What the fuck are you talking about?" "I'm the one who got her into this mess. I should be the one to end it, don't you think?" Alex asked. "You son of a bitch. I oughta be the one to end you." "John, stop." Sabryn pushed past, handing her keys to her brother. "I'm going. Will you please make sure Maxine gets these so that Robert can pick up the paintings? And tell her I'll be back soon to get the money." Her brother nodded, never breaking his malevolent stare in Alex's direction. "I'll call you later today and let you know what's going on. Ok?" He didn't answer. "John?" "All right." He looked down at her and sighed heavily. "Call by three. If I don't hear from you by then I'm calling the cavalry." A slight smile crossed her face, but vanished just as quickly. Squeezing his hand, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and started to walk away. Alex meant to follow, but it wasn't that easy with her brother's fist clenched in his coat. "I'm watching you." When he didn't say a word, Johnny let him go and stiffly walked to his car. Leaving Alex to do the same. He had to shake his head. The last time a girl's brother had threatened him like that, he'd been fourteen and stupid. Caught with hand down her pants under the school bleachers. He'd gotten the shit kicked out of him the minute the bell rang. If Johnny only knew what Alex had once done to his little sister, he might have just met the same fate. Unlocking the truck, he set her suitcase in the back and watched her for a moment as she climbed in the passenger's seat. She was limping a bit, but she didn't complain for a second. He was beginning to wonder when that fragile mask of bravado she'd put on was going to crack. *** Sabryn stared out the window, her eyelids heavy, her eyes feeling gritty and dry. Every muscle in her body was sore. The scenery passed by them in a blur as he drove out of the city, into the outskirts of town...the suburbs. It wasn't until she saw the tiny tricycle in someone's driveway that she really realized just where they were. In a residential area. Where families lived. Children went to school. People attended church on Sundays and kissed their loved ones when they came home from work. Where a spy lived? He had to be kidding. Dogs trotted down the sidewalk, illuminated by the street lights. Pretty little houses sat quietly, darkened until dawn, waiting for five o'clock to roll around to start the day. And Alex Krycek pulled into the driveway of a lovely white house, complete with flower baskets, parking just in front of the tiny garage in the back. She looked around at the well-kept yard before meeting his gaze with suspicion. "You live here? With your mother?" "No, she's my land lady. I'm renting the apartment in the basement." "Basement. Ah. I see." He shot her cold look before opening his door and getting out. She followed as he grabbed her suitcase and walked through the little picket fence. Somehow, the whole scene was amusing to her. A leather-clad spy in dark glasses and boots, making his way across the flower-strewn path. He looked more likely to rob the place than take up residence. As they walked around to the other side of the house, she could see the concrete steps, lit by a bare light bulb, leading down to a shadowy doorway. Somehow, this was more appropriate. When he'd unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch inside, he stepped back to let her pass. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but it wasn't this. Maybe a mattress on the floor and a couple of rats running around. Certainly not a well furnished, normal-looking apartment. She turned to look at him, her surprise no doubt written all over her face. "Go ahead and go in. Nothing bites, I swear." Shaking her head, she stepped through the doorway. If she'd had her eyes closed the entire time, her only indication that this was a basement would be in the tiny windows at the top of the walls. The floor was carpeted, the walls were nicely painted, and the room smelled like cedar. She breathed in deeply, catching a whiff of musky male flesh, only to find him standing right next to her. She couldn't help the slight blush that tinted her cheeks. "Well?" "I should have known you'd have a black leather couch." "It's a pain in the ass to keep the damned cat from scratching it." "You have a cat?" "No, she belongs to my landlady...but the damned thing likes me for some reason. Won't leave me alone." Sabryn smirked. "Must be a female thing." The look he gave her was too intense, and she had to turn away. Yet the moment her eyes landed on the huge, flannel-covered bed on the opposite wall, she wished she hadn't. The comforter on top looked as plush as a cloud, and just as inviting. Come to think of it, the whole place looked inviting, and too damned clean. "Do you really live here?" "Sometimes. I'm not here very often. It's more of a place to crash than anything." "Oh." She looked down at her baggy sweats, grimacing at the coffee stain on the front. "Do you mind if I take a shower?" "No. It's right in there," he said, nodding with his head to the door at the other end of the room. Grabbing her suitcase from his hand, she hurried away, all too eager to get away from that stare of his. Shutting herself in the tiny bathroom, cursing the lack of a lock, she set her suitcase on the counter and breathed a sigh of relief. His bathroom was entirely ordinary, despite the funky leopard-print shower curtain. She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror. Stripping out of her clothes, she flung them onto the floor and was about to reach for the shower curtain when she caught sight of her own reflection. She had bruises everywhere. Marred imperfections on her skin, like fingerprints every place that man had touched her. Her hair was wild and tangled, and she was horrified to see a tiny speckles of blood in the once shiny tresses. Her vision going hazy, she opened the cabinet above the sink and began searching frantically through his belongings. When she found the tiny pair of gold scissors, she seized them and quickly turned back to the mirror. Snipping several inches off of her hair. Cutting out the tangles, getting rid of the blood. Barely aware of the small mass of hair gathering in the sink. Leaving little more than a haphazard mess of curls reaching just below her ears. She ran her hand through the shortened mass, her lower lip shaking, unable to meet her own gaze. When she finally noticed the clutter in the sink, she gathered up the shorn strands and threw them in the garbage. Pushing aside the shower curtain, she turned on the water, adjusted the temperature slightly, and stepped beneath the stinging spray. Grabbing the bar of soap, she lathered up the loofah lying on his window sill and began scrubbing. Washing away the man's touch, his scent on her skin, his memory. She didn't even stop when her skin was red and tender. *** The water had been running for more than twenty minutes when Alex finally turned off the TV and leaned forward, the leather couch creaking below him. He didn't hear a sound other than the steady spray, but he couldn't fight the compulsion to step forward. As he stood outside the door, he still didn't hear a sound, and the silence worried him. Inching the door open, he stepped inside and pulled back the shower curtain a bit, only to see her scrubbing furiously at her already red skin. "It isn't going to come off, you know." She started, spinning to face him and nearly losing her footing in the slippery bath tub. "I told you I'm fine. I don't need you to baby-sit me." He watched her for a minute, holding her glare, before he started unbuttoning his shirt. She swallowed heavily, backing up a step, dropping the loofah to the floor of the tub. "I don't need any help showering either." He didn't say a word, merely stripped his shirt from his shoulders and shrugged it to the floor. She glanced at the annoying harness that held his prosthetic arm into place, obviously curious, before looking away once more. "Did you hear me? I don't need help. I'm fine." "You look fine." He smirked. "Damned fine." She sucked in a sharp breath as he began unbuttoning his jeans. He'd already kicked off his boots outside, and his jeans dropped around his ankles with little more than a push. Kicking them aside, he got rid of his socks and underwear as well. And when he paused, his right hand on the catch to release the harness, she wasn't exactly looking at his eyes. And much to his dismay, she looked slightly petrified. Not by the fact that he was about to remove the prosthetic arm. It was the fact that he was naked, aroused, and she was more scared than she was willing to admit. The false arm dropped to the floor on top of his clothes, but she paid little attention to the ugly white scars just below his shoulder. She didn't grimace in distaste or back away. She gave them little more than a glance. But as he stepped into the shower, she was shaking visibly. The water was still warm, and probably would be for quite a while. She wasn't chilled. And even though she might not have been scared of him in particular, she was frightened. He looked down at her red, tortured skin and frowned. "What have you been doing to yourself?" She looked away, blinking rapidly. "I can still smell him." "You said he didn't hurt you. Did you lie to me?" "No." "He didn't rape you?" She shook her head, closing her eyes. He touched her cheek, just below the angry gash, and her eyelashes fluttered. He lowered his voice. "I would have killed him if you hadn't." She didn't say a word, but merely tilted her head back as his thumb traced a water droplet down the length of her neck. She was blocking most of the spray of the water, but he could feel the heat rolling off of her in waves, so close, so moist and steamy against his skin. Her nipples brushed against him as she breathed, making him even harder than he already was. He lightly brushed over a bruise on her shoulder, let his lips whisk away the water on her skin. "Your hair looks shorter." Her fingers curled around his shoulders, fingernails digging into his flesh as he lowered himself, moving from bruise to bruise, lightly bathing each wound with the subtle brush of his lips and tongue. Seizing her hips, he gently bit at the hollow of her stomach, just above those dark curls, feeling the shudder that passed through her. And as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh, pressing his fingers against the melting heat of her, she sobbed. But it wasn't ecstasy he was hearing. He looked up at her face, saw it crumple before his eyes like cracking glass. She covered her face with her hands, doubling over, releasing a injured cry made his stomach clench. Alex stood up, dragging her closer, holding her tight against his chest, feeling her arms wrap around his neck and hold tight. She shook in his arms with a violence that rocked him on his feet. Convulsively weeping. Draining tears from the very depths of her body, her wrenching cries echoing off the walls. And as he pressed his cheek against her wet hair and closed his eyes, the words left his mouth in a hoarse whisper. "I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again." *** Part Fourteen: Souls Summary: The eye of the storm is deceiving. For Tara, with thanks for the Marita punching bag. I needed that! "I wanted to escape from love but didn't know how." Long after the tears had ended and the shower water had gone cold, he removed his hand from her back just long enough to turn off the faucet. Other than the slight shivers that gave her goose-flesh, she didn't move. With her forehead buried against his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair, she sucked in a shuddering breath. "I'd pay you to pretend that didn't happen." Her dry comment startled him to laughter. "How much?" "I think I have twenty dollars in my wallet." "Consider it done." Reluctantly releasing her, he pulled aside the shower curtain and reached for a towel. She had to be freezing. Draping the thick terry cloth around her shoulders, he stepped out of the tub and grabbed another towel from the rack to wrap around his waist. But it wasn't so easy with one arm. With a slight giggle, she took the ends of the towel herself and did it for him. When she was done, she shyly met his gaze. "I'm sorry I was being such a bitch." He ran his fingers through her wet hair, tracing the curve of her ear with his thumb. "You had every right. I got you into this shit. You should have let your brother kick my ass." When she didn't say anything, he continued fingering her rough tresses. "Did you cut your hair?" "Does it look stupid?" "No," he said, dragging the towel up from her shoulders and drying the curly mass, "but you're freezing." Locking her hand on his wrist, she stopped his gentle motions. "Don't." "What?" "Don't be nice to me. Don't make me get used to this, and then break my heart. I can handle that from my parents, but not from a friend." Screw that...I'm just trying to get laid." She let out a startled laugh, but there was something desperate withering in her gaze. A sacred little spark, slowly dying, fading in the cold. And he'd be damned if he let it go out completely. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her out of the bathroom and towards the awaiting bed. Sitting down on the soft comforter, he pulled her between his legs and finished drying her damp skin. Taking his time brushing the towel over her flesh, lingering, tasting, lapping droplets away with his tongue, making her shudder. He smoothed his palm over her ass, pulling her closer, clamping his lips down over her nipple and lightly sucking. He smirked when she clenched her hands in his hair and closed her eyes. When his hand slid deeper to explore the moist folds between her legs, and she didn't flinch or pull away in fear, his mouth grew more insistent. Kissing, biting, sucking. Drawing throaty moans from between her parted lips. Making her hips slide involuntarily, rubbing against his exploring fingers, pushing them even deeper inside of her. And when he suddenly pulled away from her, she glared at him. "Lay down." "You were doing just fine," she protested, breathlessly. "Trust me." He almost laughed after those words left his mouth. Coming from him, the statement was about as ridiculous as playing catch with a scorpion. But as she stared down into his eyes, she didn't ask any questions. She just did as she was told. Lying on her back on the bed, her head on the pillows, waiting, willingly placing herself in his hands. He wasn't about to disappoint her. It was humbling to look her in the eye. She trusted him, even though she knew he killed. Turned to him as he laid down beside her, even though his presence in her life had nearly gotten her raped that very same night. Touched him without hesitation, gently tracing the scars on what remained of his left arm, brushing her lips against the sensitive flesh, even though he'd done nothing to deserve it. And when she pressed against him, dragging the towel from his hips and dropping it to the floor, he couldn't keep himself from attacking her mouth. From claiming her lips, suckling her tongue, trespassing like the thief he was. Traveling down the length of her neck, over her collarbone and between her breasts, he paused in that fragranced valley and sucked in a deep breath. She didn't smell of heavy perfume or deodorants, but of sweet feminine musk, her own personal flavor, as familiar to him now as his own face. At times he caught traces of it on his jacket, smelled her when she wasn't even around. And the scent made him growl deep in his throat. His lips humming against her skin made her softly giggle. Past the shallow curve of her stomach, nibbling at her flesh, pressing his nose against her, licking, winding a path through the dark curls between her legs. And when she saw just where he was headed, she tensed beneath him and grabbed his hair. He glanced up at her, shaking his head, and something in his gaze made her drop her hand. Slowly settling back against the pillows, she struggled with obvious intent to relax. Grinning, he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. Twisting to face her, he settled back down with his head by her legs and his own legs bent against the headboard. Pulling her to him. She sure as hell was going to enjoy this...but she wasn't going to be the only one. Bending her shaky leg and propping it up out of the way, he nuzzled his nose against those dark curls. Listening to her gasp. Breathing in deeply, blowing cool air against her until she shuddered. And when he darted his tongue out to tease her, she nearly jumped off the bed. Shit. She tasted even better than the slight sampling he remembered. And even though she squirmed against his mouth, he didn't give a damn. He used his lips to tease her, brushing lightly against the hood of skin that covered her clit, nipping at it lightly, letting his breath stir the dark hair there. Rubbing his nose against her, drawing a moan out of her, rubbing his fingers against the moist lips of her sex. Her could hear her labored breathing as he touched her with the tip of his tongue. The panting cries she let out as he dipped in to taste her, to push his tongue inside of her and lap up the slightly tart fluid she was secreting. Her hips shifted restlessly, rocking her pelvis against his chin, trying desperately to get him right where she wanted him. But he wasn't about to let her have control. Lifting his head, he glanced back at her face and grinned. "Having fun yet?" She didn't say a word, but the glare she gave him said enough. His laughter made her squirm even more. "Touch me, Sabryn." She swallowed heavily, staring at his swollen cock, reaching up to stroke the length of it. He twitched in her hand, thrusting his own hips forward, and nearly fucking lost it when she took him in her mouth. Jesus. She didn't even know what she was doing, but the wet hot sweep of her tongue against his burning flesh was almost more than he could bear. He swore under his breath as the tip of her tongue licked away the moisture gathering on the bulbous head, swirling around the rim, drawing him deeper into her sucking mouth. She touched him almost shyly, but the effect it had on him was more startling than if she'd been a pro. He could barely concentrate when he returned his mouth to the weeping flesh between her legs. Her moan, at the touch of his tongue, sped like wildfire through his entire body. He didn't waste time playing anymore. Drawing back the hood of skin over her clit, he danced his tongue over the sensitive flesh, suckling at it, pulling it into his mouth and nipping lightly with his teeth. She was squirming hard against him, rocking against his face, filling his nostrils with the scent of hot, wet pheromones. He sipped at her, drinking the tangy nectar, memorizing the flavor with every cell in his body. At the same time, she sucked and licked at him with growing confidence, stroking the length of him between her fingers, using her other hand to gently rub against the base of his scrotum. Jesus, merciful God, he was so damned close. He wanted to thrust himself into her, to fuck her mouth, but he knew he'd scare the hell out of her. More than that, he wanted this to last. He wanted to be buried deep inside her when he came, feeling her clench and convulse around him, hearing her sweet cries in his ear. But if he didn't end this soon, that wasn't going to happen. Pushing her legs even farther apart, he stroked the underside of her clit with his tongue. Over and over, back and forth, occasionally stopping to dip his tongue inside her once more. And when her moans started growing more desperate, vibrating down the length of his cock, he took the swollen nub into his mouth and sucked hard. Showing no mercy. Dragging a scream out of her mouth that had to have awakened his landlady from a sound sleep. Sabryn spasmed against him, her hips rocking hard, and he pulled away from her mouth while she was distracted. Pressing his fingers hard against her, he kept the waves of her orgasm rolling and he turned himself on the bed to face her. And when he settled down next to her and pushed his cock into the damp quivering heart of her, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and held on tight. Her legs wrapped around his hips tight, locking in place, moving with him as he thrust hard into her. Sweaty, slippery, hot, and panting. Yet when he paused, his weight pressing more on her than the one arm that braced him, she held his gaze. She didn't try to hurry him. She didn't protest against the slow thrust and drag of him inside of her, a pace far more relaxed than she'd obviously expected. Staring up into his eyes, she met each push with one of her own. Bit her lip and held on. Whimpered and tossed her head as the tension became intolerable. But she always returned her gaze to his. Met his kisses with undisguised passion. Pulled him into an embrace more welcoming than he'd felt in years. And when he finally let himself go, fucking her, slamming himself into her, cumming so hard it shocked him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and didn't let go. Every muscle in his body, once clenched in sublime release, suddenly went lax. And even though he had to be crushing her, she didn't say a word. Didn't move other than to stroke his damp hair. He buried his face against the side of her neck, groaning, feeling her thighs give him one last squeeze. And when he finally found the strength to roll on to his side, pulling her with him, she followed willingly. "Christ, that was amazing." She laughed sleepily. "I bet you say that to all the girls you fuck in this bed." He could only grin. She didn't know how right she was. *** Sabryn opened her eyes lazily, blinking a few times, trying to remember where she was, when she felt his chest rise beneath her. Some time during the night, they had both fallen asleep. She could only guess it had been him that pulled the covers over them. Nestled against his side, warm and comfortable, she hadn't even noticed the sun rise. Glancing at the clock beside his bed, she realized that it was past nine in the morning. As she abruptly sat up, she felt him stir beside her. "I need to go. I have to talk to Olivia, and meet with Maxine about the paintings." He yawned, reaching up to pull her back down beside him. "Later." Dodging the sleepy kisses, she tried to sit up once more. "I need to tell Olivia about the invasion. I have to warn her." He suddenly became much more coherent. "You can't tell her." "I have to. She's my friend." "You tell her, and she'll tell her friends, and they'll tell their friends...that's if they believe you. And if they do, it'll cause panic and chaos. Do you remember the mass suicides that surrounded the Hale-Bop Comet? That was just a piece of rock. Imagine what would happen if an entire fleet of alien ships started arriving. Believe me, they're better off not knowing what's coming." "But--" "You can't save everyone, Sabryn. Let them have some peace while they're still here." She sank back to the pillow, covering her eyes with her hand. "I can't live with myself if I just sit back and do nothing." "You're going to have to." "Not really." She met his gaze. "As you said, I'm going to die anyway. I haven't had the vaccine." Something strange flickered in his eyes before he abruptly looked away. "Even if you had, it's no guarantee. It just buys you time. The vaccine isn't any defense against the newborns." She frowned. "Newborns?" "The alien babies. Or maybe pupa would be a better word." When she continued to stare at him, he sighed heavily. "When the black oil reproduces, using humans as hosts, the result is a highly intelligent and deadly alien offspring. It has dagger-like claws and defends itself by any means necessary. These things are highly evolved. Unlike animals we know, their offspring aren't weak and helpless prey. These newborns are strong, able to survive and further the growth of the species. The adults are more vulnerable, because they change." She was still staring at him. After a few moments of silence, she laughed slightly. "So I'm fucked either way. Thanks for the update." Licking his lips, he scratched the slight stubble on his jaw. "Not entirely." "What are you talking about?" "The cold should help in avoiding too many of the newborns. And--" "And?" "And I'm going to help you with the other part." "The vaccine?" He nodded slightly. "You have it?" "In the truck. Not much, but it's enough for now." She sat up abruptly, unable to think of a word to say. Except maybe, "How?" "Russia." The little flutter that raced up her spine gave her the chills. She looked away, unable to bear the expression on his face. Swallowing heavily, she stood up and mumbled something about going to the bathroom. Once in the safety of the enclosed space, she shut the door and leaned heavily against it. He'd brought her the vaccine. He was, in a way, saving her life. So why the hell couldn't she bring herself to be happy about that? Why was she so damned scared by the look in his eyes? For some reason she couldn't breathe. Sweeping her hand through her hair, she crossed to the sink and opened her suitcase. Dressing, barely aware of what she was putting on, she absently glanced at the window reflected in the mirror. Above the shower, just a sliver of glass let light into the tiny bathroom...and as she watched, she could see several people hurriedly walking by. Just the bottom of their legs. Frowning, she turned around and stepped into the tub. Peering over the window will, she watched for several moments before seeing a man, further away, dressed in a blue jacket. And when he turned, the single word, written on the back of his jacket in block letters, sent chills down her spine. FBI. What the hell were they doing here? As she glanced at the bathroom door, she remembered something Alex had once told her. He was an ex-FBI agent, turned traitor. Oh God. And she'd led them right to him. *** Alex finished buttoning his pants and tugged the T-shirt down over his stomach. Slipping on a pair of old shoes, he grabbed the keys to his truck and glanced back at the bathroom door. Sabryn was still locked inside, avoiding him. She'd have to come out sooner or later. And when she did, he'd be waiting for her, with the vaccine in hand. Heading for the door, he turned the handle and stepped out into the stair well. The door was just closing behind him when he heard Sabryn scream. "Don't go out there!" But it was too late. The sudden strange ringing sound in his ears wasn't loud enough to block out the sound of someone telling him to freeze. The haziness in his vision wasn't blinding enough to keep him from seeing the dozens of pistols pointed in his direction. And nothing could mask the smug grin of Fox Mulder as he stepped down the stairs and cuffed himself to one of his very own most-wanted suspects. *** Part Fifteen: I'll Be Seeing You SUMMARY: And so it begins... For my new friends at RATales, with thanks for the warm reception. "I haven't a clue as to how my story will end. But that's all right. When you set out on a journey and night covers the road, you don't conclude that the road has vanished. And how else could we discover the stars?" Days later she would look back on that moment and still cringe in shame at the look on his face. That second when Special Agent Fox Mulder led her lover back into his apartment, to retrieve his prosthetic arm and give him some semblance of dignity. When the agent said her name, and made Alex very aware that he knew exactly who she was. The split second of recognition, when his expression changed from apology to accusation. The moment the world tipped under her feet. "Sabryn, I think you should wait outside." She met Fox's gaze briefly. "I'll stay right here." But Alex didn't give her a choice. Whether out of embarrassment or anger, she wasn't sure. "Go." The word was cold and flat. Turning around, she closed up her suitcase, slipped on her shoes, and pushed past the other agents to hurry out the door. With her head held high, trying desperately not to look like a whipped dog. The outside world was in utter chaos. FBI agents everywhere. Several official-looking cars, their doors still open in the agents' haste to catch their man. A curious woman in her mid-forties, holding a fat orange cat, arguing with several of the agents. Sabryn could only assume it was Alex's landlady. Out of the crowd, Agent Scully stepped forward and gave her a grim smile. "I'm going to need to check your suitcase, Sabryn." "You did this. You recognized Alex from the painting, didn't you?" The shorter woman didn't bother to deny anything. "He's been a wanted felon for several years. He's slipped through our fingers too many times." Handing over her suitcase, nearly shoving it into the agent's hands, Sabryn finished buttoning her shirt. "This many agents for one man. You act like he tried to assassinate the president." "It's more personal than that. He killed Mulder's father, and may very well have been an accessory in the murder of my sister." For several long minutes, she could only stare at the woman. Every cell in her body rebelling against the information. She wanted to race back into that apartment, wrestle her lover away from the other man, grab his hand and run. Far away, and never look back. She didn't believe a word of it. But he never had denied being a killer, had he? "He's a pathological liar, and a turncoat. I'm just sorry you had to get mixed up with him." "How did you find us?" "We knew if we staked out your apartment, chances were he'd catch on to us and run. So we enlisted help. If not for your brother's insistence that we wait until one of you left the apartment, so you wouldn't be caught in the middle, we would have gotten Krycek last night." "My brother?" Scully nodded to the gate in the picket fence. "He's right out there." The surge of anger that rushed through her burned like acid in her veins. Leaving Agent Scully holding her suitcase, she shoved her way past the crowd of agents and slammed through the gate. Leaning against the door of his car, Johnny looked up at her approach and stared at her with sorrowful eyes. He clearly didn't expect the fist that slammed into his jaw. He staggered slightly, his eyes widened, before regaining his feet. "You son of a bitch! How could you do this to me?" She had to shake the pain out of her fingers, as he blinked in astonishment and cradled his cheek. "Damn it, Mandy, I was trying to protect you." "My name is Sabryn, and don't you fucking forget it. Do you even realize what you've done? That man in there, the one they're going to haul off to prison, made love to me last night. Do you have any idea what that means to me?" His expression was an odd mixture of disgust, rage, and slight regret. "I know exactly what it means. I saved you a hell of a lot of trouble. He's a killer. A fugitive. And there's no way in hell he's ever going to touch my little sister again." "Thanks to you, that may very well be true. He thinks this is my fault. He thinks I set him up." "I wish you had. At least then you'd have some excuse for your behavior." She glared at him, backing away before she did something rash. "I love him, John. How's that for an excuse?" She left him standing there with his mouth hanging open. *** With his T-shirt bunched around his neck, Alex pulled on the ugly harness for his prosthesis and closed the clasp. Mulder had removed the handcuff for the moment, showing some odd twinge of compassion, allowing him to grab his arm and his coat before heading for the car. Maybe he'd been surprised that his fugitive hadn't put up a fight. Nevertheless, he still stood in the doorway like a watchdog poised to bite. "Why don't you back off, Mulder? I'm not going to crawl out the window." He wouldn't even have been able to fit his head through the tiny space. "I'm not taking any chances." "You really get off on this shit, don't you? Catching your man. Does it turn you on? Fuel your little fantasies while you beat off at the office after hours?" "Get your coat and let's go." "I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted that I'm another man's wet dream." "I said get your coat. Your sick little mind games aren't going to work on me, Krycek." "Mind games? Just stating the facts." "You're trying to piss me off, so I'll rough you up in front of the other agents. Well, you can just forget it." "Oh, come on, Mulder. You know I like it when you beat me." He had to laugh when the other man grabbed him by the arm, shoved him towards his coat, and then escorted him out the door. Cuffed with his hands in front of him, an odd sensation since he could only feel one of them, Alex winced as they stepped into the light. And when he met her gaze, the sick choking sensation in his throat made him cough. Sabryn stood on the lawn, staring at him, her fists clenched, rocking slightly on her feet like she might spring forward at any minute. Turning back to the man who held his arm in a vice grip, he sneered. "How long has she been working for you?" "Believe it or not, Krycek...not everyone in this world is out to get you. She didn't have a clue." He wanted to grab hold of that thought and squeeze it for everything it was worth. But old habits died hard. And the suspicion in his glare was strong enough to make her flinch. Her voice was strong and steady, full of anger as she stepped forward. "Fox, please don't do this." She knew the bastard's name. "There isn't much time left." "Sabryn--" Alex warned, but she didn't pay attention. "Alex, tell him. Tell him what you told me about the oil. About New Year's day." Mulder stopped in his tracks, staring at her, before shooting his gaze back to Alex. "Oh he'll tell me. He'll tell me everything." "You've got that right." The familiar voice that broke into the conversation made Alex grin bitterly. He looked up to meet the dense brown eyes of his former superior, Assistant Director Walter Skinner. The man he'd used for months to get information. Whom he'd tortured mercilessly, and nearly left to die. And who just happened to be holding the palm pilot that he'd confiscated from the apartment moments ago. His proud expression was priceless. Just two weeks before the end of the world, Alex knew he was screwed. "Get him in the car," Skinner ordered. As Mulder started to push him forward, and the throng of agents moved out of the way, Sabryn grabbed his arm. "Let me talk to him, please." "So talk." Indignant that she wouldn't have any privacy, she kept walking with them. "I didn't do this, Alex. You have to believe me. I didn't know." "It doesn't really matter what I believe, does it? It's not going to change a damned thing." "I didn't know he knew you. I met Agent Mulder in a chat group, online." He laughed slightly. "Whether they've already done it or not, they'll turn you against me." "Never." "Go with your brother, Sabryn. Get the hell out of here." "I don't think so," Mulder interrupted. "She's staying right here until I ask her a few questions." "Where are you taking him?" she asked. "You're both going to the Federal Detention Center at Fort Marlene." Alex grinned. "Home sweet home." *** Her head throbbed as she stared at the gray-painted concrete walls. Nervously chewing her fingernails, she paced over to the door and looked out of the metal-meshed window. The hallway was deserted, but even though she wasn't imprisoned here, like Alex, a guard stood right outside her door. Her belongings had already been searched and Agent Scully had assured her she wasn't in any sort of trouble. They merely wanted to ask her a few questions. So why the hell couldn't she stop fidgeting? "Well, at least I can scratch 'killing a man' and 'being imprisoned' off my Things To Do Before I Die list," she muttered. Sitting at the table behind her, Johnny added, "Don't forget 'have an affair with a known fugitive.'" She barely glanced at him over her shoulder. "How about 'murder brother in his sleep'?" "You're acting like this was my fault." "If not yours, than whose was it?" "Bryn, you had to have known he was a spy. Jesus, look at all of the shit they confiscated from his apartment. They were still pulling things out of there when we left." "Yes, I knew. I knew from the very first day. But that didn't mean I believed it." "But you didn't do a damned thing about it, either." "He never lied to me, and he never hurt me. Why would I betray him like that?" "He's a traitor to his country and a murderer. Why the hell wouldn't you?" "You don't understand." "No, I don't." "He had good reasons for what he was doing, and I believe in him." "How do you know he didn't lie to you just like everyone else?" She looked away, waiting for the agents to return, staring at the door. She didn't have an answer. *** Alex sat on the low cot, staring at his interrogators, wondering when the hell they were going to give up. He didn't owe them any answers, and he would rather have rotted there than say a word to any of them. But the survivalist in him thought otherwise. The only way he was going to get out of there was to talk, get their attention, and make them think they needed his help. At that moment, it was easier said than done. After nearly twenty minutes of evading Mulder's questions, only avoiding his violence by the mercy of Agent Scully, he finally decided to speak. "You only have two more weeks before Majestic's deal with the colonists starts to take effect." Mulder, Skinner, and Scully stared at him like he'd just spoken Sanskrit. "Majestic?" Mulder asked. "Your so-called 'Consortium.' There were twelve members originally, before it went global--" "The Majestic Twelve...that's just alien mythology. Folklore." "Or so they wanted you to believe." "Two weeks...until what, colonization?" "Yes. New Year's day. The millennium." Scully crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back against the wall. "And what makes you think we believe you? More than likely, you're just trying to find some kind of 'Get out of Jail Free' card." "I don't give a damn if you believe me or not. I'm probably a lot safer in here than I would be out there." "And just where did you get your information, Krycek?" Skinner asked. "Diana Fowley." He swept his gaze to Mulder. "She's Old Spender's good time, now." Mulder's expression darkened visibly as he glanced over his shoulder at his partner. Scully swallowed heavily. "What about Cassandra Spender?" "I don't know where she is. Apparently they don't need her anymore. She's probably dead." "And the vaccine?" "As far as I know, the American vaccine still doesn't work. I'm sure the MJ boys are shitting in their pants right about now. I don't know about you, but slavery to a bunch of little gray men doesn't really appeal to me." "There is a vaccine that works," Mulder said. "Yes. The Russians have it. Do you want to fight them for it? I think we'll have a big enough war on our hands soon enough." "I'm getting really tired of your smug attitude--" "Mulder." Scully stepped forward, putting her hand on her partner's shoulder, pacifying him however momentarily. It was almost enough to make Alex gag. "I don't know what the hell you're so worried about, Mulder. You and Scully have already had the vaccine. You're immune. The one who should be really sweating it is Skinner." They all stared back at him, stupefied, before everyone's attention shifted to Skinner. Taking off his glasses, the senior agent pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're saying they won't be affected by the black oil, and I will." "They can be carriers, passing the virus on to you. But the moment you get it, you'll be little more than a carcass for the colonists to feed off of." Mulder stared back at the ground. "Like the ship, in Antarctica. Pod People." "Something like that." "But with the hybrid genes--" "With the hybrid genes, he would survive the virus, but not enslavement. He'd be working for them." All three of the agents stared at him, tension written all over their faces. "I want to talk to Skinner alone." The Assistant Director frowned. "I have nothing to say to you, Krycek." "I think you'll want to hear what I have to say." With a heavy sigh, Skinner nodded to his agents. "Leave." Obviously more than reluctant, Mulder and Scully stepped outside and shut the door. Taking the seat Mulder had abandoned and turning it around, Skinner sat down. "Don't waste my time, Krycek." "I need another favor." The other man laughed, heartily. Taking Alex's palm pilot out of his pocket, he waved it in the air. "You don't have any authority anymore, remember?" Skinner dropped the slim piece of machinery to the floor and stood up, crushing it under his heel, grinding it against the concrete floor. Alex winced. "You may not believe this, but there was a reason behind that torture." "You're right, I don't believe it. You're a sadistic bastard." Alex continued in monotone, like he was telling a story, heedless of whether or not Skinner paid attention. "The way those little machines worked in your body, all under my command, is much the same as how the slaves will work for the colonists. Those chips they implanted in their abductees...they're like little triggers. However they do it, push a button or whatever, the colonists can get their slaves to do anything. They have their own army now, and Agent Scully is one of their soldiers." Skinner stared back at him, swallowing heavily. "What the hell does that have to do with me?" "You were just an example." "Yeah, well I'm about to make you an example, Krycek--" "No, you're about to do me a favor." Skinner laughed again. "My ass." "I'm about to save your ass." *** Sabryn started at the sound of the door opening and whirled to face the spectacled agent she'd seen at Alex's apartment. Opening the door all the way, the man put on his coat and nodded to her brother. "You two are coming with me." "To where?" she asked. "We're getting your family and then we're going to North Dakota." The strange fluttering in her chest made her catch her breath. "I'm not leaving without Alex." "Krycek isn't here." "What--where is he?" "Agents Mulder and Scully have escorted him back to his home." "You're letting him go?" "Not by a long shot. He's just packing up a few things. But right now we're getting you out of here." "I don't understand, Agent--" "Assistant Director Skinner." He held up the small vial he was holding in his hand. "And for now, this is all you need to know." "What is it?" Johnny asked. Sabryn swallowed heavily, fighting the moisture in her eyes. "It's the black oil vaccine." Taking the vial in her hand, she blinked rapidly. Glancing at the other man before turning back to her brother. "See...I told you he wasn't a liar." END OF SERIES Author's Note: Yes, this is indeed the last story of the "Midnight Angel" series. But don't worry, it's certainly not the end of Alex and Sabryn's story. I have decided to write the next portion under the title "Morning Glory". The reason for this will become more apparent as the story continues. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me this far. Chocolate-covered Krycek's to you all! |
Midnight Angelby Isahunter |