Necessary Evil

Six weeks later ...

Don't be late? I'll show him who can be late.

Our meet is scheduled for 10; it's 9:45. This is a first for me - being early; I mean. I don't like to wait. In fact, I pride myself on being exactly punctual ... normally. If you can call anything about this whole arrangement 'normal.' There is no sense of normalcy as I sit in a deserted parking lot waiting for a man I've come to depend on for information.

Trust me. Truer words were never spoken.

All in all, things have turned out surprisingly well. Except for the part about Mulder. I had no choice but to tell him that I was meeting with an informant. The identity of said informant to be kept in confidence. One of the conditions under which information was to be given; I told him. Lie. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been several months since my last confession; since I started meeting Krycek. My hand strays to the small cross I wear. How long do I intend to keep Mulder in the dark about this? I'm not sure. The urge to guard my new found source haunts me every day. I have to admit that I like being the leader in this little chase. No more cryptic messages left on my desk; no more guessing where he is and when he'll see fit to let me in on his latest quest. For once, I'm running the show.

It does make me wonder, though, what Krycek is getting out of this? Why would he be so willing to risk his neck to pass information to us - me? Is it some sort of set up? Will I find out weeks from now that he's capitalized on my need to prove myself?

I check my watch; 10pm on the dot. I move my left hand toward the door handle. The passenger side door wrenches open and he's suddenly in the seat next to me.

"Drive!"

He doesn't need to repeat the order. I slam the transmission into gear and tromp on the pedal, squealing rubber as we shoot out onto the roadway. I risk a glance at my passenger. His attention is riveted to the rear window. My prior experience has prepared me for these situations. I increase my speed, weaving in and out of traffic in an attempt to allude whoever it is that may be following us. After several miles of twisting and turning, he directs me to a lot crowded with cars and I kill the lights.

"Get down!" He lunges toward me, pinning my back to the seat. Our eyes meet in silent agreement. Neither of us speak. He is breathing in ragged gasps, his ribs pushing into mine. I see for the first time the fear and apprehension in his eyes. A light cuts across the interior of the car. His head drops to my left shoulder. My natural reaction to this is to slide my hands into his hair and hold his head to me. I don't know why I do this, except that at that moment I feel an intense desire to shield him from harm. The light slowly moves on and we are once again in the dark. We remain as we are; the only sound our rapid breathing.

"Are you all right?"

"Mmm." His voice is muffled by contact with my shoulder, but the exhaustion in it is hard to miss.

"Care to share?" He eases his head up. His eyes are bloodshot. "I saw a car ... on the other side of the building."

"Did you recognize it?"

"No, but I didn't want to take any chances."

I nod, wondering if it's safe to sit up. My hands are still clinging to his neck. I remove them, trying to suffuse the color rising in my cheeks. I wonder how anyone can exist like this; always running. I start to push myself up, hoping he'll realize just how uncomfortable the feel of his body against mine has made me. He raises up on his forearms but makes no move to let me up.

She's trying to get me to move off of her without really asking me to do it. I decide to stay put for a few seconds; just to see what she'll do once she realizes I'm not in the mood to go anywhere. As far as I can tell, the danger is over - but I still like the idea of laying on top of her. True to form, my body is now reacting to the feel of her thighs as they move under mine. I'm feeling the end of the adrenaline rush once again. The fine line between life and death; and having survived once again, my body is ready to work off a little of that excess energy.

"I think we should stay right here."

She looks at me trying to figure out whether I'm bullshitting her or whether there really could be a reason to remain hidden. I know she's uncomfortable, but not for the reason she might be telling herself. She wants me; and right now she's just as much a victim of her libido as I am - although I have the luxury of being honest with myself. That's something she can't afford. Not yet, anyhow. I intend to change that. I've begun to see a side of Scully that I hadn't really noticed during the few times we were in close proximity. She really is very pretty; and ... feminine. That's definitely something I hadn't noticed before; probably because of Mulder. He has this way of making his crusade your crusade; and the desire to please and support him is infectious. It works its way into a person until you can't tell where he ends and you begin. The fact that she's here with me is a good sign, though. If she was willing to meet with me it means that she hasn't completely lost her sense of self; quite the contrary.

I ease up slowly checking the lot once again. Her breath is warm on my neck. "We can get up now," I whisper. She almost castrates me in her haste to sit up. I ease myself back, trying to move slowly against the bulge in my jeans. She's busy pushing her hair back and rearranging her clothes.

As she finishes our eyes meet. "What?"

"I didn't say anything."

She smirks at me and checks her watch. "Can we get this over with? Some of us do have to work tomorrow." Yes, sports fans, she's back. Nothing like a little criticism to destroy the moment.

"I didn't bring anything with me."

"You didn't ..."

"Hold on," I tell her. "There is something, but I couldn't bring it with me."

"If this is your idea of some sort of joke, I ..."

"It's in West Virginia."

"What? What's in West Virginia?"

"Their lab."

"Ok, so what's the problem?"

"It's nothing like the other information I've given you. It's guarded 24 hours a day; and there's no way I can take anything out of there."

"Then what are you suggesting? How are we supposed to get the information?" Then it dawns on her. "No, oh no, I'm not - you can't be serious."

"What?"

"You want me to go down there with you don't you?" She does have her moments; and right now she's reading me perfectly.

"I've got it all figured out, Dana. I have some people down there who owe me. We can go in this weekend; security will be minimal. Trust me, it'll work." I'm purposely calling her by her first name, hoping this will make her feel somewhat at ease with my plan.

She's shaking her head back and forth now. She wants to go, I know she does; but 'sensible Dana' is telling 'adventurous Dana' this is an extremely bad idea. One that could possibly get us both killed; and worse yet, expose her to Mulder. We get caught, he's gonna find out she's been dealing with me. That right there might be worse for her than any possible threat to her safety. If we live through this, that is.

"I did it last weekend." Her head stops shaking. "I went down there and got in. I've got the shift changes for security and everything. I'm telling you; we can't miss."

She's thinking about it now; I can almost hear her weighing the possible vs. the impossible. "You got in? How?"

I whip out the computerized card I used last weekend and wave it in her face. "A master card. Opens every door in the place and you can't trace it. Only the big boys have them; and now I'm one of them."

Her eyes study me as I give her my most angelic smile. The one I pull out if I really want something; or if I'm about to get my ass kicked and I have to make someone believe my latest pile of shit story. This one is the 'really want something' smile, though.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Why do I feel like I'm going to live to regret this?"

I avert my eyes and start picking at the imaginary lint on her headrest. "If you don't want to go - I guess I could always try and get in with a camera and take some pictures; but then again I'm not a doctor so I wouldn't have any idea what to shoot. Then there's the problem of getting caught with the camera. I mean, the card I could probably get around, but the camera ..."

"Forget it, never mind! I'll go."

I try not to smile too broadly. Pissing her off now would not do at all. I pull out a scrap of paper, scribble an address on it and hand it to her. "Meet me there Friday night around 8pm. It's a secure lot, you can leave your car there over the weekend."

"Why Friday night?"

"I want to make sure that my contacts haven't been compromised. I'll need time during the day on Saturday to do that. If all goes well, we go in Saturday night."

I can tell that she's extremely apprehensive about this; and not just because she's going somewhere alone with me. I reach out and tilt her chin up to face me. "This isn't going to be another 'Mulder quest.' We go in together; we come out together. I promise." I hope.

She smiles and nods her head. "Do I need to bring anything?"

"Comfortable clothes; no heels or skirts," I joke. I let go of her chin and make my exit. I need to put some space between us before I really lose it and kiss her. Besides, I've got some planning to do before Friday; and the less distractions the better. If I'm right; and I know I am because I've already been inside the building, this will probably be the last time that we'll be together for a long time.

I was digging through the CD case on the floor, trying desperately to find something more tranquil. "Don't you ever listen to anything but hard rock?"

We'd been driving for 3 hours and my head was starting to pound. Just because he wore black all of the time; most of it leather, didn't mean I had to be subjected to the deafening selection he'd had on the stereo for the last twenty miles.

"I thought you'd like this," he smiled.

"Not really," I winced, raising my voice to be heard over the din.

I briefly wondered what it was about me that could have led him to believe that I would like 'Alice In Chains.' "It isn't my usual fare."

He nodded and punched a button on the CD player. Several seconds later the sound of Tchaikovsky lilted from the speakers.

"This better?" he asked.

"Yes, I love Tchaikovsky. He's one of my favorite composers."

"Really? Now how did I know that?"

Imagine this: me in a car with Krycek listening to classical music. Music he actually liked and knew a great deal about, as it turned out. Made me wonder what other surprises he had in store for me this weekend?

The address he'd given me was a condominium high rise in Crystal City. He was waiting for me at the gate to the parking garage. After buzzing us in with the code, he directed me to his abandoned parking slot, and helped me load my bag in the trunk of a black Volvo. *His,* he assured me, after seeing the look on my face; although the name on the car wasn't. Alex Krycek living in a condo and driving the ultimate 'yuppie' mobile. Would wonders never cease?

I had thought of leaving a note in my apartment for Mulder; in case I never returned. I couldn't do it, though. Superstitious, I guess. If I left the note it would have been like admitting that I had no faith in my ability to make it back. That I had no control over the situation I now found myself in. Not that I did have - control; that is. Shit. I settled back and watched the scenery as it rushed by my window. Tchaikovsky and Krycek; quite a combination.

She's biting her lower lip again. A sure sign that she's rethinking her decision to be with me. Too late to back out now, darlin'.

If I was a betting man, and I am, I would have laid even odds on her refusing my proposition. She was a lot easier to convince than I thought. That remark about my having been there last week really turned the tide in my favor. I'm uneasy with it though; sure it's going to come back to bite me in the ass.

I shouldn't have lied to her about that; and contrary to popular belief, I do not lie as a matter of course. I only lie to those I don't respect. Unfortunately, that seems to encompass just about everyone I've come in contact with for the past several years. Except Dana.

I've always thought there was more to her than she allowed everyone else to see. Including Mulder. In fact, most especially Mulder. You meet her and talk to her and you think: yeah, she's smart and capable. What you don't see, unless you take the time to look, is the other side of Dana Scully: loyalty, tenacity, and that all consuming love she has for those closest to her.

Take Mulder for example - please, take him.

He has someone who's willing to lay down her life for him if the situation called for it; and he doesn't even appreciate it. I know, I know, he probably gives her a gift on her birthday and Christmas, and takes her out to lunch every once in a while; but Jesus Christ! Look at all that she's sacrificed in his name. The guy can be practically certifiable at times and here she is, an educated medical professional, trooping all over the country following him on his search for 'truth.'

Want some truth? Get a fucking life before it's too late!

Stop letting these bastards yank you around like some kind of demented marionette. Even I've come to a point where I've had it with them; you would think he might make the same connection. Yeah, they can probably destroy the world if they wanted to; so what? There are a million other sick bastards that could do it as well.

How far is he willing to go with this? It cost him his sister, his father, Dana's sister - and almost Dana herself. Does he have any idea what most people would give to have someone like her love them unconditionally the way she does him?

I do.

I know that entering that lab will be the last step in my betrayal of those I used to respect. And I can think of no better person to be at my side than her. Am I no better than Mulder? Taking her away this weekend for myself. Once again pulling her into another situation that is, to say the least, extremely dangerous. I don't know. I just know I'm in too deep and I can't -- don't want to stop. I want a little of what Mulder's had all these years and doesn't appreciate.

I'm looking at her now; but she doesn't see me. She's fallen asleep.

I'm back; what the hell? Where's Krycek? I'm all alone with 'them' again. Strapped down to a table, unable to free myself.

"Mulder? Oh God, they can't ... "

"Scully?"

I can't see him, but I know it's Mulder. Why isn't he helping me? "Mulder, please! Untie me, I have to get out of here ... " My arms ache as I pull up on the straps. I feel my pulse starting to race, sweat breaking out on my forehead.

"Why, Scully?"

I stop moving. "Why what, Mulder?"

"Why did you let him do this to you; again? I thought I was the only one you trusted. He killed my father, Scully. And your sister. Have you forgotten that?"

"He didn't kill her. It was Cardinale, Mulder. You know that." I try to sit up but I can't manage to get any leverage with my elbows. "Why aren't you helping me? Mulder? Mulder!" I wrench myself back one last time and come awake in the front seat of the car.

"Pull over!"

"What?"

My hand is already on the door latch. "Pull over; now!" The car veers sharply and I'm out before it comes to a complete stop.

It's dark, but that doesn't stop me. I've got to get away from him; he'll turn me over to them I know it. How could I have been so stupid? I'm on my hands and knees clawing at the grass when I feel his arm wrap around my waist.

I scream, unable to hold back. "Please no, I don't want to go back there... please!"

"Dana, stop! It's me."

I think maybe that's not a good thing to remind her of right now. She's struggling against me, clawing at the only arm I have left to restrain her with. Jesus, she's having some kind of panic attack. How could I have been so stupid? The lab, West Virginia ... being alone with the person who made it possible for her to be taken the first time. God, Dana, I swear, they told me they weren't going to hurt you. How can I make you believe that I'm sorry? Shit! I pull back on her, using my legs to propel us over the small hill we'd been rolling toward. We fall over in a tumble of legs and arms; my grip still tight against her waist.

I end up on my back with Dana laying sideways across my chest. I'm hoping she doesn't decide to throw her head back and take out a few of my teeth. Having one arm is bad enough without adding dental work to the list of impediments.

"Dana? Are you all right?" It never occurred to me that my desperate move might result in an injury. "Dana?"

I can feel her shaking against me; I'm pretty sure that means she's crying. Then I hear a small whimper. Now I know she's crying; and it's because of something that I did to her. I cannot express in words how much that small sound tears at my very soul. Of all of the things I've done in my life, and there have been *many* things I've done; this is one I'd take back if I could.

Not knowing what else to do, I move my hand up and cup her cheek against my chest. "It's ok, Dana." She rolls towards my hand and curls into me, sobbing openly now.

I manage to get myself up to a seated position; not an easy task with only one 'real' arm. But I do it because I want to hold her properly; I want her to know that she's safe.

We sit like this for several minutes. It's late and I'm pretty sure, judging by the absence of headlights, that traffic is almost nonexistent. Good thing, too. I don't need to add a curious state trooper to the list of shit that can go wrong tonight.

She's winding down now, but still clutching my arm. I try to imagine how she must have felt when they took her. No wonder she has nightmares. "I'm sorry," I whisper. An ineffectual excuse for the horrors I helped visit upon her.

She sniffles lightly, but doesn't answer me. Maybe she doesn't know what the hell I'm talking about. "They lied to me ... they told me they wouldn't hurt you." Still no answer. "I know you probably don't believe me, hell why should you after what I did; but I didn't bring you down here to turn you over to them." I feel her squirm against me and I release her cheek. Her head is still in my lap, but she's facing me now.

Her face is dirt stained; her hair matted with dirt and grass. It still does nothing to hide her beauty. "Why should I believe you," she whispers.

I look away, knowing that whatever comes out of my mouth it will be judged as a lie. "Because ... things are different now."

She pushes herself out of my lap. "Because? That's the best you can come up with? No; you're going to tell my *why* I should believe you. Why I should trust you."

A million reasons flash through my mind and are instantly discarded. I can't bring myself to make up excuses any longer; and I have no right to do that to her again. The truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. And I do need help right now because I can feel myself falling inexorably toward the admission that I've avoided all these months. I let go and fall.

"Because ... I love you."

"Dana, are you ok?"

No answer. I raise my hand to knock, but before I can complete the action I hear the shower start. I sigh, thinking she must be all right if she's taking a shower. I move back to the large double bed and contemplate my next move.

She hasn't spoken to me since we both ended up on the side of the road an hour ago. We drove in silence to the hotel; me sneaking a look at her every now and then, just to note that she hadn't once glanced in my direction. This is an extremely bad turn of events. I need her sharp, or I can't take the risk of having her with me at all. I'll have to lay it out to her and let her decide. Either way, all bets are off. She's got to pull herself together long enough to give me an honest answer about her ability to back me up. Our lives depend on it.

I rummage through my bag and pull out the map I'd managed to 'procure' last week. Amazing what a little green will do when you're looking for information. I note the marked doors leading into the complex. There are also some hastily scribbled notes about ventilation shafts, cameras per room, etc. From what I can see here, the best way to approach would be from the south entrance. The hallways there are minimally guarded, however, it will require more time on foot to reach our ultimate destination: the lab. I double-check my reasoning again, looking for a shorter, more secure route; but there is none.

The water has stopped running. I spread the map on the table, grab a cold beer out of the cooler, and wait for her to decide its safe to come out.

'He loves me? What the hell was that, and where did it come from?'

I feel like I've had the wind knocked out of me; in more ways than one. I mean, I never in my wildest dreams thought that Alex Krycek was even capable of love; much less *being* in love. I wonder once again if this is some part of his 'master plan' to do away with me? But I can't wrap my common sense around that idea; especially since we've spent many nights alone in the past few months. He's had ample opportunity to take me out at any time. Why wait? Why now?

I pull on the T-shirt and shorts I brought with me, feeling much cleaner; but hardly normal. I can't get the words out of my mind: I love you. Or the look on his face as he said them to me. Unless he's Olivier back from the dead; I'd say he was being totally honest with me. The question now is, how do I feel about him?

Oh God, why am I even thinking about this? We're here to do a job, not sit around mooning at each other like a couple of love struck teenagers. What have I gotten myself into?

"Showers free if you want to use it." She's giving me a wide berth, like I'm diseased or something. Great. I've scared the shit out her now.

"Not right now; we have some plans to go over."

She looks over noticing the map I've laid out; and the beer. "Can I have one of those?"

"Sure, here." I reach out and hand her the beer. Our fingertips brush lightly during the exchange. How pathetic that I've come to look forward to even this cursory contact with her. She sits down, scooting her chair closer to mine so we can both look at the map without craning our necks. "So what's the plan?" she asks, looking at me with those innocent eyes as though everything is perfectly right with the world. Mulder might let her get away with that, but I can't afford the luxury. She's got to open up to me or this will never work.

"We need to talk first."

She averts her eyes and takes a long swig of beer. "Look, I know what I said made you ... uncomfortable."

She gives me this 'no shit, Sherlock' look that screams of Mulder. She's been around him way too long. "All right, *very* uncomfortable. But I want you to know that I don't regret saying it." She looks down, trying to keep from facing me. "But, feelings aside, we have a job to do here and I can't continue on with this unless I'm one hundred percent sure you're with me. These people are extremely dangerous. What we're about to *do* is extremely dangerous. If you can't handle it I need to know now."

"What do you mean if I can't handle it?" Her back is up. She's pissed. Good, if she's angry it will take her mind off of my words and put it where it belongs. Hopefully.

"You know what I mean."

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me." I can see the all-business Dana Scully roaring back to life in those eyes. Exactly what I needed from her. "Just make sure you keep your word: we go in together, we come out together."

"Done."

"Good. Now hand me another beer and let's get this show on the road."

I smile at her as I reach back and retrieve two more beers.

"You actually had a dog when you were growing up? Was it a Russian Wolfhound?" She laughs out loud at her joke.

"No, it was not. It was a German Shepherd; sort of."

We're both laying in our respective beds after killing a twelve pack over the map and assorted preparations for tomorrow. I probably had most of the beer, but the few she's had may as well have been twelve. I thought she might have dropped off shortly after climbing in bed, but instead she started asking me questions about my life growing up.

I usually don't talk about it; haven't even thought about it in years; but being here with her as we both lay in bed under the cloak of darkness is a safe and warm feeling I haven't experienced in years. I'm astonished that I can remember such small details as the smell of baking bread at my Grandmothers house on a cold afternoon. The sound of the wood crackling in the fireplace as she held me in her arms on the sofa and told me the stories she used to tell me over and over again; the ones I never tired of hearing. A life that now seems a million miles away.

"How about you?" I ask her. "Did you ever have a dog?" I feel a need to steer her away from asking me more personal questions about my family. I can't answer those, even for her. At least, not right now.

"Are you kidding?" she laughs. "All that dog hair; my parents wouldn't hear of it. Besides, they didn't want to be dragging a dog with them every time we moved. It was hard enough dragging us with them."

I hear an 'edge' in her voice that I hadn't heard before; make a note: moving of family numerous times is a definite sore spot.

"I have to pee again," she announces, shuffling from under the blankets and stumbling towards the bathroom.

Just as I start to get worried about her, the bathroom light flicks on and blinds me. "Found it, no need to worry," she advises, closing the door behind her. I sit up, ready to catch her should she come out and not be able to navigate the fifteen feet to her bed.

My worst fears are confirmed. She exits the bathroom and immediately shuts off the light. Bad idea when you've had too much to drink. I can see her listing hard to port as she tries to make it back to the bed with her diminished night vision. As I reach out to her she stumbles and falls across my legs.

Now, being the gentleman that I am; I try not to let my imagination run wild with this latest turn of events. After all, she tripped. It's not like she was trying to end up with her head practically in my groin. Yeah, tell that one to my dick; which has suddenly decided it doesn't care if she's there by accident or design.

"Whoops, sorry. Thought I was closer to the bed than that," she laughs. Then she uses her arms to try and push herself up and the inevitable happens: her right hand closes over me instead of the mattress. I'm as hard as a rock and I doubt, even in her compromised condition, she thinks it's anything other than what it feels like.

Our eyes meet, both sets having now adjusted to the darkness. She just stares at me, waiting. For what I don't know. "I didn't mean - I was trying to get up and ... "

My kiss silences her. I push my tongue into her mouth and meet no resistance. She tastes like beer and toothpaste. A horrid combination under most circumstances, but not right now. Right now, I can't get enough of it. I'm lapping at her bottom lip and I imagine, maybe, that I actually hear her moan. Or maybe it was me doing the moaning.

She pulls back, putting her hand to her lips as though she's unsure of what just happened. I make no move toward her. If she wants me she's going to have to let me know.

In a way I'm glad I can't quite make out her eyes. I'm afraid of what I might see there. She's probably regretting my impetuousness; as I am with every second that goes by. We resolved this issue earlier in the evening and now I've brought the whole thing back to the forefront. "Dana, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have ..."

Now it's my turn to be surprised. She reaches toward me and traces the line of my lips with her finger. Her lips follow her finger and I take her into my arms as we fall back on the bed.

My lips are bruising her, I'm sure, as I clutch her to me. I think in a lot of ways the dreaming and wishing are easier than the having. Now that I have her I find myself unable to remember those dreams. I'm so blown away by the reality of it all that I can't seem to get beyond the need to feel her lips on me.

I'm not used to intimacy as a whole. My sexual 'conquests' in the last few years have been quick and perfunctionary. A need taken care of with no emotion or feeling behind it. This, obviously, is completely different.

Our lips break apart, the need for oxygen much more urgent at the moment. I'm waiting for her to come to her senses and dismiss me. After all, I've never felt worthy of her attentions before this, and my nagging insecurities are no longer nagging; they've made the leap to full-blown fear. What will I do if she does stop? Spend the rest of the night laying in bed ten feet away from her whistling show tunes in my head to keep from taking matters into my own hands; so to speak. Something I'm not looking forward to in the least.

He looks so young and vulnerable laying beneath me. I'll bet there are a million things rushing through his mind right now; as there are mine. Things like: this is wrong, we shouldn't be doing this, I'm drunk, etc., etc.

Truth is though, I'm not drunk. I've got a 'buzz' on, that's for sure; but it's not enough to excuse my behavior as alcohol related. I guess my only excuse is that I wanted to see what it would be like; kissing him. It's been so long since I've done it that I'd forgotten how good it is. The simplicity and power of tasting anothers mouth and the warmth of their tongue around my own. I could do just this all night.

But now that I've tasted him, I find it's not enough for me. I want the man attached to those lips as well. The scientist in me feels it will be beneficial for me to get this out of my system, admit it's just sex, and get past it. The female in me is worried that it isn't just sex, and once I've done it, it will never be enough. I feel this man has the power to intoxicate and bewitch me if I allow him to do so.

He's already managed to entice me into kissing him by doing no more than making a hurried declaration by the side of the road. Someone says 'I love you' and I instantly fall victim to them; is that it? Like the alcohol excuse I find it flimsy at best. I think there's more to the both of us than I'm willing to admit.

I don't want to think right now, though. I want to feel.

Her hand is roughly pulling at my shirt, trying to get it out of the waistband of my sweat pants. I don't usually wear anything at all to bed, but considering the situation, I thought it prudent to go with as much cover as my body would allow. Now I'm wishing I hadn't been that considerate. There is nothing worse than extricating yourself from pants while you're pinned beneath a top sheet and a bedspread. I push her back and remove her hands; this will go a lot faster if I just take over.

She's sitting back on her heels watching me as I wriggle out of my clothes. I guess she's momentarily forgotten that she should be shedding some layers as well. No problem; I'll be happy to help her out of them. "Turn around," I whisper, after dropping my shirt on the floor next to the bed. She hesitates a split second and then complies. Wondering, I'm sure, why I want her back to me.

I start by running my fingers lightly up her arms. I feel her shiver at the lightness of them as they brush her skin; back and forth. I dip them below the edges of her shirt and run them over her taut belly; edging ever closer to the bottom of her breasts. Her hands have migrated back to rest on my thighs; with every upstroke of my circle she clenches painfully against my skin. But I don't mind; it lets me know that I'm giving her pleasure.

Finally I make my way up to her nipples. She arches back against me, rubbing herself against my already dripping cock. I push back a little; it's been too long for me and if she keeps that up I'm going to come all over her back. It throws her off and she starts to turn in my arms, thinking that something may be wrong. 'It's ok," I breathe, catching her ear lobe in my teeth. I still her, holding her where she is, and remove her shirt.

She leans forward on her hands and pushes her short clad ass in my face. A closet exhibitionist; I like it. Grasping the waistband I peel them down, taking the time to nip her soft cheeks in the process. Laughing she rolls over and her shorts join my shirt on the floor.

I'm naked, laughing, and staring up at an equally naked Alex Krycek. God is he beautiful! I know that's not a word you should use for a man, but if there was ever an appropriate word to use, that's it. It seems almost a sin to cover so much with clothes. My eyes travel further down his impressive physique and I come to the only conclusion my female mind will offer me: he should *never, ever* don another piece of clothing for the rest of his natural life.

He's watching me watching him. I feel like I should be blushing or something; but I just can't seem to muster any embarrassment at this particular moment. And judging from the look on his own face, I'd say he likes me looking at him.

"God Dana; you look like a beautiful china doll," he whispers.

Now I'm embarrassed. I'm not used to people making such a fuss over me. No; that's not quite right. I'm not used to a *man* giving me such compliments; and I have to admit that it makes me feel good. My femininity is something I've tried to hold on to, despite the demands of my chosen occupation. It's nice to know my efforts haven't been in vain.

I reach out to him, and he moves forward, covering me with his body.

She seems so tiny wrapped in the hollow of my arms. We roll over and she's straddling my hips; my cock brushing against her ass. I grasp her hips and lift. The look on her face as she takes me in is something that will live in my memory for what's left of my tumultuous life. I can now die a happy man.

"What?" she smiles, grasping me with those incredible internal muscles that women are gifted with; just enough to drive me crazy. I moan, thrusting up into her.

"This," I gasp. "It feels ... like ... "

Her hips thrust back at me. "Like what?" she groans. "Tell me."

I reach up and take her face in my hands; not an easy feat while trying to hold off one hell of an orgasm. "Like ... love."

Her head lolls back and I reach between our bodies. "Come for me, Dana."

She comes up on her knees and impales herself on me. I can hear her mewling as she rubs herself against my fingers, searching for just the right angle. Then she finds it. She quickens her pace, coming down on me in short, clipped thrusts. "Uh ... now," she gasps. I let go, feeling as though my orgasm will tear me in half. My shoulders are off the mattress now; my body curls into her as we both ride out the wave of our shared release.

This is all that I thought it would be and more. I feel a connection to her that goes way beyond the physical aspect of a simple joining with her body; and the magnitude of my feelings scare the shit out of me. Finally, I drop back, answering the cramped demands of my stomach muscles. I pull her down with me, not wanting the closeness to end. Her head fits neatly under my chin. I feel her breath on my neck as she snuggles against me, obviously enjoying the warmth of my body.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she sighs, running her fingers up my chest.

I find myself wanting to say more to her; to tell how much I've wanted this, how much it all means to me ... but I can't bring myself to give voice to those feelings. Telling her I love her was bad enough. It should never have happened that way. It should never have happened at all.

It's bad enough she's in danger on a daily basis because of her association with Mulder. If they ever found out how I felt about her ... well, I don't want to go there just now. Besides, who am I kidding? Just because we had sex doesn't mean she has feelings for me.

"Alex?"

She called me Alex; shit! I can feel my 'steely reserve' folding like the proverbial house of cards. "Yeah?"

"Did you mean what you said ... earlier tonight?"

"What?" I ask, knowing full well what she's talking about.

She pushes herself up on her elbow. "That you ... loved me."

I look into her eyes. Lie; it would be so easy. Tell her you didn't mean it; you just said it because she was upset and you needed to shock her into calming down.

"Yes." Where the hell did that come from? Oh God, I'm truly lost now.

She looks down at me. I'm hoping - I don't know what I'm hoping. That she loves me, too. That she'll tell me I'm full of shit. What?

She leans down and kisses me. I snake my hands through her hair and deepen the contact. I find I can't get enough of her. Probably because I know this will end; it has to. There can be no 'courtship' between us; no dinner dates, or nights spent at the movies. No long Sunday mornings after a night of passionate sex. Our lives are far from normal to begin with; and this ... whatever it is, would be impossible. Or so I tell myself.

Our lips part. "We should get some sleep," I say; already trying to repair the hole in my heart that seems to be growing with every waking second.

"Ok," she smiles.

I help her up and we both gather our clothing from the floor, dressing quickly. It's cold in the room now; not like it was a few minutes ago. I'm already missing the feel of her body against mine. We crawl into separate beds; both lost in our own thoughts.

I pull the extra pillow against me, inhaling the mingled scent of our bodies. I commit the smell to memory, silently praying to whatever god watches over people like me to help me through the next 48 hours. I'm going to need it.