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There she was. She looked good, but then she always looked good. After all,
this was Ellen Feldman, and for her, looking good was a way of life. She also
looked bored. Alex Krycek watched her as he waited for the hostess to finish
seating the couple in front of him.
Was it a date? Hard to tell. Feldman was wearing a short, tight black dress
that screamed 'fuck me', but her companion was dressed like he just stepped out
of a courtroom. Not a bad-looking guy, but he was no Alex Krycek, that was for
damned sure. There was a thick accordion folder on their table, jammed with
manila folders. A legal pad was at Feldman's elbow and her companion was
reading from a green book entitled, 'American Jurisprudence 2d.' Poor Feldman
was trying hard not to yawn.
"Sir?" The hostess, obviously a college kid, smiled up at him. "It'll be
another ten minutes until your table is ready. Would you like to wait at the
bar?"
A stroll to the bar would take him right past Feldman's table. Krycek checked
his reflection in the glass doors of the restaurantdamn, but he was an
attractive man! Tight jeans, worn soft and almost frayed in all the right
places, a tight black T-shirt, his soft, lambskin leather jacket and finished
with Aqua di Gio for Men, bought for him by Feldman during one of their many
shopping trips together.
He grinned down at the girl with his most mesmerizing smile, the one that made
women wet and men hard. "Sure. I can use a good stiff one."
"So we ended up saving him an extra seven hundred thousand." Ken chuckled at
his own story, oblivious to the fact that Ellen was not amused.
In fact, she was damned bored. This was supposed to be a date and this joker
showed up with a file he wanted her to look at. Served her right for going out
with somebody she met at a Continuing Legal Education seminar. Ken seemed so
interesting then, but now it was as if he left his personality in the Hyatt
conference room where he gave his speech on Estate Planning Issues Under the
Changes to the Tax Code.
Interesting. How could anybody be as interesting as her Ratboy? Ratboy could
keep her attention for hours at a time, even more than Mulder ever could. It
wasn't just Krycek's delicious eight-incher, but that gorgeous body and the
fact that he never, ever said 'no' to her. And unlike Mulder, he didn't trick
her into doing things. Why did her sweet Ratboy have to tell her he liked men,
too? She could live with his professionit gave her a whole new perspective
on her practicebut when he told her he kissed Mulder...
"Ellen?"
"Huh?"
Ken held up a sheaf of notes. "You might want to review these. We're
proposing an amendment to this regulation and I would love to hear your
comments blah blah blah... "
Ellen was distracted by the sight of an amazing ass walking past her table.
She tore her eyes from it long enough to catch the scent of Aqua di Gio for Men
and to see the leather jacket that was worn soft in all the right placesoh
god. Ratboy. He was walking to the bar. He didn't see her.
Hey, Ratboy, over here! Come over here, dammit! Oops. He dropped his
wallet. And he was bending over to get it. Ohhhhhh. Well, so much for having
a clean, dry pair of underwear.
She wasn't the only one enjoying the show either. A quick scope of the bar
confirmed at least five pairs of eyes on her Ratboytwo of them men. Krycek
sidled up to the bar and began making conversation with a statuesque blonde
with huge hooters. Ellen absently adjusted her Wonderbra and didn't bother to
hide her scowl of displeasure. A man who was far too attractive circled Alex
like a shark, locked eyes with the blonde, fought a quick battle of wills and
then stalked off to the men's room, where Ellen presumed he'd do something
about the hard-on he got from scoping out her Ratboy. Holy hell! The blonde
with the headlights was buying Ratboy a drink and he was beaming at her. How
dare that bitch mow her lawn?! How dare Alex let himself be mowed?! She had a
good mind to go over there and drag him out by whatever she could grab first.
Y'know what? That was a plan, right there. Now all she had to do was ditch
the loser.
"Ellen?"
She clapped a hand to her side, to her beeper, plucking it from her Coach
handbag and holding it up. "I've got an emergency, Ken. I'll call you."
"But"
"Bye." She grabbed her purse and looked for Krycek at the bar, but he was
gone. How could he have moved so fast? Her pumps clicked noisily on the
marble floor and almost went out from under her as she hurried outside.
Nothing. Damn. Well, there was always Ken. Yeah, and there was always root
canal, too. Thanks but no thanks. It looked like it was going to be another
night spent with her vibrator and her copy of Grosse Point Blankwhich just
had to be her Ratboy's autobiography.
Twelve dollars and forty-one cents. And it was going to have to last for
another week at the very least, until she finished the McGovern matter and
could send a bill. Make that two weeks, because she'd have to send the bill,
McGovern would have to get it and then pay her. She hoped he wasn't a deadbeat
like the rest of her clients.
Ellen looked into her shopping cart and frowned at the contents. Generic
pasta. Ragubecause it was on sale and she had a coupon. Chicken for Winky.
Six dollars right there. She had to choose wisely because whatever she picked
was going to have to last.
Why was her luck always so damned bad? Who would have thought Moore would
fire her? Especially after she did all the preliminary work for him, drafting
the corporate papersoh, who was she kidding, the man was an ass. 'Sorry,
Miss Feldman, but I believe men are better lawyers.' And the bastard had the
nerve to ask for his retainer back, didn't offer to pay for the work she did.
Two thousand dollarsher rent, student loan payment and money for the month
were gone. Her landlord was already sick of her excuses for her perpetually
late rent and he was threatening to evict her if she was late again. There
wasn't even anything left for her to sell, except for her laptop and she needed
it for work.
What an awful week. All that work, all that research. For nothing. The only
highlight to her week had been the Ratboy spottings. He kept turning up in the
damnedest places and then disappearing before she could 'accidentally' bump
into him. Two days ago, he was on her train. Yesterday she saw him at the
courthouse. If only he'd show up today... she could use a few hours with her
favorite new toy.
She was looking for him. That annoyed her. Since when did she become so...
well, what word fit? It wasn't like she was in love with him. Lust,
absolutely. But love? Nah. First of all, he wasn't Jewish and then there
was that thing with the men. Definitely not Long Term Relationship material,
no matter how many times he said they ought to get married. Married. To
Ratboy. What could he be thinking? He wasn't the type to get married. No, he
was like ice creamwonderful while it lasted, but not meant to be around for
long.
Ice cream. Her Ratboy. Ice cream was three dollars. Could she? Did she
dare? She was so lost in the mental debate that she didn't see the other
shopping cart moving down the condiment aisle until
CRASH!
"Oh! I'm soRatboy... ." Oh, Ratboy. And he was wearing the world's
tightest jeans, with the beginnings of a hole just to the left of the crotch.
"Pardon me, but do you have any Grey Poupon?"
A leering smile from her delicious Ratboy and her underwear was going to have
to be wrung out. Her hand reached out of its own accord and snatched a jar
from the shelf.
"Ever do it in a meat locker, Feldman?" Krycek bolted the door from the inside
and looked her over. She was so excited to see him, she couldn't even speak.
That was good. Really good.
Feldman shook her head, her hand still clutching the jar of mustard.
Oh, she wanted him bad. He supposed he should take a couple of minutes and
ask about the half million dollars she took from their numbered Japanese
account, maybe bitch that she left without saying goodbye or even thanks for
the wardrobe. Instead, he let her take a good, long look at what she had been
missing for almost a month. "Feldman."
"Yeah?"
"I've got a nice, big Polish sausage for you."
"I thought you weren't Polish."
"I'm not, but you insist on believing it anyway."
"It's cold in here"
"I'll keep you warm."
"No," she said, quickly, "I meant, well, you know, doesn't cold effect your...
uh... performance?"
"Russian, Feldman. We're cold-weather people."
Feldman looked like the cat who was about to swallow the canary. She held up
the jar of mustard she was still clutching. "Mind if I lick this off you?"
That's what he loved about hershe knew how to play the game.
"I can't find my pantyhose or my underwear."
Krycek rubbed his eyes and then looked down at her. "Don't worry about it."
"Those were Calvin Klein pantyhose, Alex. Eight bucks a pair." Two-fifty at
Filene's, but there was no need to tell him that.
"Here. Buy a new pair." He stuffed a wad of cash into her hand.
Just what she was hoping for. Money. Rent. Ellen counted out the bills, not
caring if he watched. One hundred. Two. Three. Four. Five. Not enough
for rent. She needed another hundred and fifty. "My underwear was Natori."
"Your underwear was a pair of cotton Jockey for Her," he countered, snatching
the cash from her hand. "Greed doesn't become you, Feldman, but since you were
so creative with that mustard, I'll take you shopping myself. No more cotton
panties for you, understand?"
That was supposed to make her feel good. He liked to buy her things. She
liked when he bought her things. But if she got evicted, she and her things
would be out on the street. Ellen stared longingly at the cash in his hand.
How could she make him give it to her?
"I ought to make you pay, Feldman. You've got half a mill of my money"
"No, I don't! And it's our money. You said so."
"Okay, our money and yes, you do. You took it from our numbered account"
"And it's tied up in investments for our retirement." There. Talk business.
That could calm her down enough while she figured out a way to get him to give
her rent money. "I put some into a Cayman corporate account. A small
percentage went into a venture capital fund that's already generated a nine
percent return, and that's just in a month. I've organized it so that the
taxes are minimal and the money flows to us through a trust I've set up, but
that doesn't kick in for another ten years."
"You tied up our money?"
"It can all be liquidated in a day, Alex. I made sure we had liquidity
because, well, your lifestyle"
"Not bad. How much did you keep for yourself?"
"Four thousand. But you got that much back already." What if he asked for
the four grand back? She didn't even have four dollars. And he was still
holding the five hundred, waving it in her face.
Krycek pocketed the cash without breaking eye contact with her. He must have
smelled how desperate she was because he said, "Spill, Feldman. What do you
really need the money for?"
"Rent." There. She said it. "My apartment. My office. Groceries and food
for Winky. I owe the vet sixty bucks and I'm behind almost six months on
student loans and my three hundred dollar license fee is due this month and if
I don't pay it, they revoke my license to practice, not that it matters because
I'm being sued for malpractice because when that wrinkly guy sent me with that
briefcase, I didn't file a motion and we lost the case and now I'm being sued
and I just lost a big client because he's a misogynist bastard who fired me
because I was a woman and didn't even pay me for the work I did and"
"Okay, okay. Jeez, shut up and let me think for a second." He frowned at her,
watching her shiver from the cold of the meat locker. "How much do you need to
get through the month?"
"A grand."
"How much is rent?"
"Six-fifty."
"For that dump? You live over a bodega!"
"You think I didn't look for something cheaper?!" And how did he know where
she livednever mind. He could find out anything.
Krycek grinned at her. "Of course you did, princess. Take me there. I want
to see what my money is paying for."
He was going to give her the money! Hooray! But he wanted to see her
apartment. "I don't have any furniture, Alex. I sold it to make my security
deposit."
"You want the money? Take me there."
"But"
"It's your home and I want to see it."
Home? That dump? It was a place she crashed. "I don't have any food there,
either."
"We'll order in. And we can even order something for Winky."
Winky had to eat. "All right."
She was right. The place was a dump. How the hell did she live like this? A
studio apartment. Her clothes hanging on racks, covered by plastic. Not a
lick of furniture anywhere, other than the bed. Just a couple of large
Rubbermaid containers, which she seemed to be using for nightstands. And
there were roach baits in the corners.
This place had to be her worst nightmare. He watched her bend down to scoop
the litter box, sneaking a glance at him. Feldman had to be wondering whether
he was going to fork over the money. She was going to have a surprise coming.
He came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. Feldman arched back against him
with a purr of contentment, echoed by Winky who was rubbing against his ankles.
"Feldman."
"Mmmmm."
"I'm not giving you a nickel for this place.'
"What?!" Just as he predicted, she wrenched free and spun around, eyes
shooting sparks that were the beginning of a temper tantrum. "You promised
"
"You oughtta know better than to trust me." Before she could hurl any of her
colorful epithets, he used his Mesmerizing Smile on her. It froze her in
place. "Start packing. You're going to stay with me until we can find you
suitable accommodations."
"I can't afford suitable accommodations, Alex." God, what an act she had.
Puppy dog eyes stared at him balefully. "My clients are deadbeats and the law
firms don't want to hire me because I got fired from my last job."
Oh, how tragic her life was. So sad. And she was resorting to using his first
name and making doe-eyes at him. "Pack your stuff and we'll talk about it
when we get home."
If Feldman was a dog, her ears would be perked up and her tail would be
wagging. Home, Feldman. A ride in the car. Yes, Feldy. Good, Feldy. Beg,
Feldy. "Okay... "
Feldman. Dog. That inspired a quick fantasy of her on her hands and knees
and, as usual, his jeans, which were already too tight, were almost unbearable.
There was time for a quickie. "Hey, Feldman. Nice bed. Wanna show me your
designer sheets?"
Ellen set the cat carrier down and unlatched the door, letting Winky out. He
immediately jumped up into the bay window and mewed excitedly. She was tempted
to mew excitedly herself. Krycek's townhouse was gorgeous.
"Do you rent or own?"
"Own. You like?"
Oh. Yes. "It has potential."
"Does it need a woman's touch," he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his
mouth.
Forget the townhouse. Krycek needed a woman's touch. Her touch. "Yeah.
Where's the bedroom?"
"Again?"
"I didn't mean it that way." Yes, she did. Oh, yes she did. "I want a
tour."
"In that case, why don't we start with the kitchen?"
No! Bedroom. She wanted to see if it was a four-poster bed. "Alex... "
"Ellen?" More than a hint of teasing in his voice.
"A-lex."
"Yes?"
"How come you don't want me to see the bedroom?" There. Now he looked like
the one avoiding it.
Krycek shifted his weight to one leg and glanced towards the stairs. "Things
happen in there, Feldman."
"What kind of things?"
"How bad do you want to know?"
"Not that bad."
"Then go check out the kitchen."
Oooh! Jerk. "Make me."
"Make you do what?" He was close now, his finger hooking into the waist of her
jeans. Green eyes met brown and a silent battle of wills raged. "Make you
cook? Make you clean? Make you come?"
"You make me sick."
"Do I, now?" Pop. There went the top button of her jeans.
"Yeah."
"Do you feel faint?" Zip. Her fly was undone and he shoved his hand down the
front of her stretch denim Levi's. She needed stretch denim for moments like
these.
"No."
Krycek grinned as he touched her, his finger teasing her but not penetrating.
"How about now?"
"No." Ellen wriggled, trying to get his finger where she wanted it, but he
kept it just out of reach. Bastard. She hated when he made her ask.
"I'll bet if I slip that finger in, you'll come. What do you think?"
"I don't think so. Fingers don't get me off." Not like eight-inch cocks,
wielded ever so skillfully.
"Okay." He released her and backed away, licking his finger. "Suit yourself.
I'm going to order dinner. You want Chinese?"
What a prick! How dare he tease her like that! Well, two could play THAT
game. "No."
"Italian?"
"No."
"Thai?"
"Uh-uh."
"We're running out of ethnic groups that deliver, kitten."
"I know one that delivers. One that's right in the neighborhood, as a matter
of fact." Ellen moved close enough to smell the Aqua di Gio, to feel his heat,
to cup him through his jeans. "You'd like it. It's Kosher. You like eating
Kosher, Alex?"
"Almost like eating Russian, wouldn't you say?"
It was an amazing display of self-control. He was hard as a rock, but he
wasn't doing anything, just passively letting her stroke him through the denim.
Her Ratboy was playing with her. "Are you asking me for something?"
"Yeah, I'm asking what you want for dinner."
"Well, what do you want?" Please, somebody make a decision because she'd just
soaked through her jeans and the stain was very noticeable. Not to mention the
smell.
"You're my guest, Feldman. You make the choice."
No! This couldn't be happening. Usually, by now, Mulder would have had his
mouth full. She never had to ask for it with Mulder. Why did Krycek have to
do this to her? Why didn't he just get the hint?
"Well?"
"I want... " How could she phrase it so she got exactly what she wanted? Ah,
yes. "I'd like to feed you first, honey. A nice, Kosher meal."
"I've eaten Kosher before. Very tasty. But we can't have you go hungry now,
can we?"
Was he suggestingOh, that would be fun! Would the height difference be a
problem? No, not when he was that well-hung. "I suppose not."
"How about dinner in bed?"
Yes! At least she got her way somehow.
Part Two
They stared at each other warily, Krycek standing by the left side of the bed
and Ellen on the right. Winky lay in the center of the bed, snoring, his tiny
white paws twitching as he dreamed.
It was Ellen who broke the silence. "Okay, now what?"
"What do you mean, now what?"
"Usually, this is the part where one of us is supposed to get dressed and go
home." She shifted her weight to one leg. "Since you live here, that'd be
me."
"I told you, Feldman, you can stay until"
"And I told you I can't afford anything better than what I've got. I can
barely afford that." It was only ten forty-five. They'd been screwing
continuously since six and now having exhausted themselves, scarfed down a
couple of sandwiches and showered, it was obvious to Ellen that neither one of
them knew what to do next. "I'll take Winky home in the morning."
Krycek arched an eyebrow. "Don't you want to stay here?"
"What are you asking me?" She knew what he was asking, but she wanted to hear
him say the words.
"You know."
"Nope."
"Okay, Feldman, if you need an engraved invitation, here goes." His eyes
sparkled with mischief. "Wanna shack up?"
"Are you nuts?! We'd kill each other in a day!"
"Jesus!" Krycek growled in exasperation. "If you were gonna say no, why
the hell did you make me ask?"
"But I'm right! We would!" She wanted to hear him say he would make it work,
that they'd be a happy couple or some kind of baloney like that.
"Probably." He shrugged carelessly.
Ellen couldn't believe this. That was it? No convincing argument? "Fine,
I'll leave now. I have a meeting in the morning anyway."
"There's a bus stop two blocks down."
"You're not even gonna offer to drive me?"
"Nah, you can handle yourself if anything happens." He dropped down onto the
bed, staring at her, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. "You
still carry that mace, right?"
Wasn't he even going to lend her a gun? Apparently not. Jerk. "Right.
Whatever. C'mon, Winky. Let's go home."
Winky stretched, licked the tip of his tail, stretched again and closed his
eye, feigning sleep.
"Winky!" Fine. She'd stuff him in the carrier after she got dressed. Ellen
shot Krycek another dirty look stalked downstairs and grabbed her overnight
bag. Within seconds, she was dressed in a T shirt and shorts. He still
wasn't trying to stop her. She grabbed the carrier and went back upstairs.
Winky heard the rattling sound, leaped off the bed and then under it.
"SonofaWinky! Come on! Get out from under there!" The furry little
traitor. Just because Krycek had central air conditioning...
"Myeh!"
"Winky, let's go home. Now!"
"Mew?"
Krycek chuckled softly. "C'mere, Winky."
The cat poked his head out from under the bed. "Mew?"
"Come here," Krycek soothed. "Come to Alex, Winky."
And to Ellen's irritation, Winky did. He leaped right up onto Krycek's chest,
purring madly.
"Go home, Feldman. I'll drop Winky by in the morning."
"I'm not leaving without my cat." She made sure to emphasize the 'my' in that
sentence.
"Leave him, kitten. He's not bothering me."
"No! You have no idea how to take care of him!"
"Sure I do. Fresh chicken, fresh turkey and that cat dancer thing. And scoop
the litter box." Krycek stroked Winky under the chin and the cat began purring
even louder. "Don't slam the door on your way out."
How did he do this? How did he make it so she would have to ask him if she
could stay? What happened to the scenario where he begged her to stay with
him? Besides, if she went back now, she ran a good chance of bumping into her
landlord who was on the lookout for her rent. Which she didn't have.
Unless... "Alex?"
"Ellen?" There was more than a hint of mockery in his voice.
"Can I borrow six hundred and fifty dollars?"
"No. You'll never be able to pay me back."
"I've got a client who owes me twelve hundred"
"Your clients are deadbeats, kitten. You said so yourself."
He wouldn't lend her the money. She couldn't believe it! Her Ratboy was being
cheap. Unless... Maybe she needed to ask a different question. "Alex?"
"Yes, Ellen?"
"Would you be kind enough to give me six hundred and fifty dollars for my
rent?"
"Give you?" Krycek clucked with displeasure. "You want me to give you six
hundred and fifty dollars?"
"Yes."
"No."
"You cheap sonofabitch! I'm going to get evicted because you can't give me a
lousy six"
"It sounds like you need a place to stay, then, doesn't it?"
"I'm sure Mulder would let me stay with him."
"You think so?"
No, but she could lie, couldn't she? "Absolutely."
"Okay. Bye."
The bedside clock now said eleven ten. "What time do the buses stop running?"
"Eleven."
"It's after. Gimme money for a cab, you inconsiderate louse."
"If you ask nicely, you can sleep on the couch."
The couch? The couch?! "What if I don't ask nicely?"
"You'll be hitching home."
Her neighborhood. After eleven. With a lousy can of mace. Yeah, right.
She moved closer to the bed. "I changed my mind. I'll stay the night."
"I thought you wanted to leave."
"I'm too tired to schlep home. Shove over."
"There's a guest room down the hall."
"Shut up and move over."
"Make me."
"Those are famous last words, Ace."
"Are they, now?"
"Oh, yes, indeed."
It was the sound that woke him first and then he was aware of the mouth sucking
on the head of his cock, a tongue moving downward with exquisite, deliberate
licks. How long had it been since a woman woke him up that way? Too long and
never quite that expertly. Krycek sighed contentedly and didn't bother
opening his eyes. "Good morning to you, too, kitten."
"Mornin', Ace."
Then he heard it again. An odd 'snikt'. Krycek bolted upright, nearly
toppling Feldman, who was holding a tiny purse-sized tape measure to his cock.
It had to be the weirdest thing he'd ever seen and it took every ounce of
self-control not to laugh at her. "Why are you measuring my cock, Feldman?"
"I... uh, well... " She was blushing a delightful shade of red and then she
found some hidden reserve of strength, hitting him with what he secretly called
her 'lawyer face'. "My mother told me never to talk with my mouth full."
She dived down onto him and proceeded to give him an expert blowjob. Who could
argue with logic like that? He sank back down onto the pillow and stroked the
back of her neck while she did some incredible things with her tongue. Most
of the men and women he'd been with had marveled at his size, but trust
Feldman to be the first to actually whip out a ruler. If he'd been a fraction
less than eight inches, would she have sued him for fraud? Probably.
Her delicate little, French-manicured hands wandered up to his chest, teasing
his nipples and then worked their way back down to his balls while she
continued to suck, lick and tease his cock with her mouth. Feldman's long,
dark curly hair tickled him in a decidedly erotic way.
And then she did something even more unexpected. Feldman began to give him a
'hummer' and he could swear the song was "Lawyers, Guns and Money."
"Ahhh, Feldman, that's nice."
It got even better as she took all of him into her mouth, down her throat and
thenabruptly pushed herself away from him, gagging and choking.
"Feldman?"
"I'm fine," she coughed.
He sat up and tried not to laugh. He failed. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, fine," she coughed. "Peachy."
So close. So damned close to coming. Was she going to finish the job? It
wasn't as if he could come out and ask her. At least not until she stopped
coughing. Absently, he stroked his erection, waiting for her. Feldman
stopped coughing and was watching him intently, her lips parted slightly, eyes
focused on his hand's movement. Up and down. Slow, steady firm strokes. Oh
yes, this was turning her on.
"You can help, if you want, Feldman." C'mon, c'mon, finish the job.
"No, I wanna watch, Ratboy."
Again with the Ratboy. Ah, never mind. He couldn't believe Feldman was
having such a good time watching him get himself off. Unfortunately, the show
wasn't going to last much longer. In fact... oh, yes... there we go...
ahhhh... nice...
What the hellWas she applauding his performance?! Apparently so. He
sat up and sighed contentedly. Feldman sighed, too. Time to put her on the
hot seat. "Your turn, kitten. I want to watch you make yourself come."
"No," she said, quickly. "I'm late for work."
"It's Saturday."
"Doesn't matter. I've got a deposition at ten." She leaned over and gave him
a chaste kiss on the cheek. "I've gotta go get ready."
"Feldman!"
And there she went, fleeing into the bathroom.
"You're really going to work, aren't you?"
"The stenographer's fee is non-refundable and this was the only day we could
get the defendant to agree to." Ellen hooked her bra and reached for her
pantyhose. She was running late. Her fault for not kicking him out of the
shower or not saying no when he kneeled in front of her and did that thing with
his tongue again. She really needed to work on that willpower problem she
had. "Can you watch Winky until I come to pick him up later?"
"Don't start that again," Krycek groaned. "Stay the weekend and we'll figure
things out on Monday."
Her Ratboy wanted her to stay! Which was good, because her landlord was
probably changing the locks by now. "Okay."
"Kitten... "
Why did he insist on calling her that ridiculous name? "Yes, my Ratboy?"
"Can I come with you?"
"You wouldn't want to. This is a long boring question and answer thingie and
the opposing counsel is a horse's ass. A pompous, chauvinistic horse's ass.
I'm going to love making him look stupid at the trial." She slid into her
blouse and buttoned it carefully. "Besides, you don't have a suit."
"The hell I don't. I've got a couple of Armani suits hanging in that closet
behind you."
"Alex, please, I'm sure you've got things you need to do."
"Come on, Feldman, you begged, pleaded and gave me head until I agreed to take
you with me. Why can't you reciprocate?"
"Because what I do is boring," she blurted. Ellen gave herself a mental kick.
She'd better not do this in front of Posner or she was going to get eaten alive
by that Harvard-educated windbag. A deep, calming breath as she zipped up her
skirt. "I'm doing a deposition with an insurance company, Alex. I'm deposing
a claims examiner and her supervisor and four other Ivy-League dinks. We're
gonna be knee-deep in jargon and you'd be so bored you'd probably shoot them."
"Actually, it sounds fascinating." He pulled a navy blue suit from the closet.
"I'm coming with you. My mother always thought I'd make a good lawyer."
"Alex."
"Ellen."
"Alex?" Wow. Was that her Ratboy, looking so hot in that double-breasted
navy suit? Of course he wasn't wearing any underwear. He never wore any. And
that suit really was an Armani. She was going to have to get him to bend over
later so she could check out his ass. Maybe a game of senior partner and
junior associate was in order later... Yeah, her Ratboy would make a
delicious first year associate and she already knew how persuasive his oral
arguments could be. "Well, I suppose if you promise to be quiet... "
"I promise." More than a hint of humor in those eyes. "Kitten, do my tie for
me, will you?"
Her nose wrinkled as she snatched the tie from his hand. Icky stripes. Nope.
Not on her Ratboy. She rummaged through his tie rackwow, a whole five of
themand found a tie she didn't hate. Much. There was going to be a lesson
about how to pick out ties in the near future. She looped it around his neck
and leaned in very, very close. Mmmm. He smelled good. "Let's see now. The
rabbit goes through the hole and around the tree and comes out... yeah, there
we go. Something's missing."
"Such as?"
She stepped back and looked at him. "Repeat after me, 'pro hac vice'."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Just say it."
"Pro hac vice."
Yeah, baby. Definitely a game of junior associate later. All she had to do
was keep her mind on the deposition until then.
"I can't believe you did that!"
"All I did was ask one simple question, Feldman."
"You asked the wrong one."
"All I asked was"
"You never ask a question you don't know the answer to. Ever! And I thought
we agreed you weren't going to say anything!"
Krycek glared at the small lawyer as he tossed his suit jacket onto the bed.
Why was it okay for her to come along on his jobs and botch them all to hell
but let him ask one simple question and she was biting his damned head off?!
"I was trying to help."
"You helped me look like an idiot in front of that prick, Posner and his
cronies." Feldman threw her pumps across the bedroom. Winky leaped from the
bed and left in search of quieter spaces. "Do you have any idea how much
research I'm going to have to do to counteract the damage you just did? I'm
going to have to rely on a policy argument and—"
"Do me a favor and stop spewing legalese for ten seconds, Feldman." She'd been
bitching the entire ride home. If she didn't shut up, it was going to be
impossible not to smack her across that big mouth.
"This case is the biggest one I've ever"
He grabbed her by the lapels of her navy blue designer suit and pulled her to
him, pressing his lips down on hers savagely. It was the only way he could
think of not to hit her and frankly, as angry as he was, the bickering was
giving him the world's biggest hard-on. He rubbed it against her, knowing full
well she could feel his arousal through those thin, Armani dress pants.
Feldman's hands tore at his pants, freeing him, stroking him.
God, that was wonderful. He didn't feel like hitting her any more. Now all he
wanted to do was bend her over the bed and dominate her. Just this once.
Feldman was having none of it. She pushed him. Hard. And to his utter
amazement, he fell backwards onto the bed. She straddled him and tore open his
shirt. The buttons rolled across the hardwood floor.
"That shirt was an Armani, Feldman."
"I'll buy you a new one."
Oh God, she was raking her nails lightly over his chest, biting at his nipples.
Why the hell was he still wearing the damned tie? Unfortunately, Feldman was
holding onto it like a leash while she nipped her way down his torso.
He reached for her but she swung herself over to his left side, just out of
reach while she shed her suit. "Bad little junior associate. Next time you
listen to the senior partner or you're fired."
Junior associate? Senior partner? So that's what 'pro hac vice' was all
about. His mind scrambled back to his procedure classes at the FBI Academy,
searching for whatever legal terms he could remember. Uh-oh, she was licking
at him and his mind was rapidly going blank.
Feldman reached up and undid the tie, draping it over her shoulders. "You've
been a very naughty little associate, Alex. You're behind on your billable
hours and I can see you don't have any briefs for me to look at."
"Please don't fire me. I need this job." Was this what she wanted? A game of
sexual harassment, lawyer style?
"We hired you because you gave persuasive oral arguments, Alex. We expected
the rest of your work would improve over time. I must say, we are very, very
disappointed. Look at what you're wearing, for heaven's sake."
Yeah, look at him. Still wearing the suit that had her drooling all afternoon.
Well, hanging out of the suit, actually. If he had any idea the sight of him
all dressed up would drive her this crazy, he'd have put one on sooner.
"Should I take it off?"
"By all means."
"Better?"
Her eyes wandered appreciatively over his naked body while her hands closed
over his wrists, crossing flesh over prosthetic. "Jerry Garcia ties are tacky
and unprofessional, Alex."
"Yes, ma'am." She was tying him up with it! Yes! Oh, yes! This was getting
better by the second. Hmm. He was going to have to teach her how to tie
better knots than this half-assed square knot.
Feldman pushed him back down on the mattress. "I have my doubts about your
abilities, Alex. Maybe your oral abilities weren't that good."
Oooooh. A challenge. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"
"I think so. Please explain the holding in Pennoyer versus Neff."
What the hell was a Pennoyer?! Or a Neff, for that matter. And did she really
expect him to talk about cases?! "The holding."
"Yes. The holding."
This was like a demented episode of 'The Paper Chase' and it was turning him on
like nobody's business. "I... I don't recall that case."
"That's because you didn't do the research that I assigned you. What ever am I
going to do with you, Alex?"
"Maybe I can argue on my own behalf?"
"Go ahead."
He did. With his hands tied. Well, maybe his briefing and research skills
sucked but his oral arguments still won the day if the squeals and whimpers of
the lawyer sitting on his face were any indication.
Finally, she collapsed next to him, with a satisfied sigh. "Well, Alex, it
looks like you get to keep your job."
Not a moment too soon, either. His tongue was starting to cramp and his
neglected hard-on was starting to insist on some relief. He slipped out of the
poorly knotted tie and trailed the tip across Feldman's stomach. She giggled
actually giggled!and slapped at his hand. God, it was too cute. Feldman
was acting like a girl. "We're not done yet, Feldman."
"Forget it, Ratboy. You're not tying me up with that fashion disaster." The
tie was yanked from his hands and tossed across the room. "Besides, you've
tied me up way too many times already."
How could he get what he wanted from her? Ah, yes. "There's a pressing legal
issue we need to discuss, Feldman."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Him. Pressing down on her. Feldman's legs wrapped around him,
encouraging him, trapping him. Perfect. Oh, god, she was wet and hot and
"Stop! Get out!"
"What?" He withdrew, confused.
"Condom. Put on a condom."
"You're on the pill, Feldman."
"Yeah... but... " "But what?"
"You like guys." She slid out from under him and drew her knees up to her
chest. "I'm worried about STDs."
How the hell did she find out about that?! "What do you mean, I like guys,
Feldman?"
"You were drunk and you told me you like men. You told me you kissed Mulder.
You asked if I wanted to be in the middle of an FBI sandwich. You told me not
to be mad because you like men, too, because I'm your favorite. Any of this
ringing a bell?"
Oh. Shit. Served him right for getting drunk in the first place. Time for
some damage control. "I kissed Mulder on the cheek."
"You'd fuck him if you could," she exploded. "How the hell do you expect me to
react to you telling me you have a crush on my ex-boyfriend? I could handle it
if you were jealous, if you wondered if his dick was bigger than yours or
something stupid like that, but I have a real problem when I wonder if you
fantasize about fucking him while you're fucking me."
"Kitten, come on, you know I"
"I know you like men, you sonofabitch!"
"I like you, too, Feldman."
"You keep asking me to marry you. You want me to live with you. You want
that? You give up men."
"The men are part of my job, kitten. They mean nothing to me." Wait a second.
Just men? "What about the women? I have to screw women for work, too."
"You slut!" Feldman leaped out of the bed and glared at him. "And they talk
about how lawyers screw people for money. What do you screw for, Krycek? Oily
aliens?"
And there she went, avoiding his question. Rather offensively, too. "What
about the women, Feldman?"
"What about the men?!"
"What about the killing? You don't have a problem with me killing people?"
"End of conversation, Ratboy. I'm going back to my slum." She slammed the
bedroom door behind her.
Women and murder, no problem. Men? Problem. Feldman was one screwed-up
chick. How the hell was he going to get her back?
Part Three
There was nothing he hated worse than the few days a month when Scully had PMS.
Mulder was positive that the headaches she complained about paled in comparison
to the ones she gave him when she screamed about the unfairness of it all.
Unfair that she got bloated. Unfair that she got cramps. Unfair that she
couldn't have kids, but like clockwork, every 28 daysHis next partner was
going to be a man.
All he did was suggest that if she hated getting her period so much, she should
get everything removed. It was just a suggestion but it set Scully off like a
broken alarm clock without an 'off' switch and she started shouting medical
jargon and statistics at him, eventually concluding her argument by hurling her
tape dispenser at him.
As usual, she didn't miss.
How the hell was he going to explain the bump on his head?
Mulder sighed and slid his key into his lock, hoping he hadn't already eaten
his emergency box of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese that he kept hidden in his
cupboard. He could practically taste that orange imitation cheese now...
Whoa! A horrible smell assaulted his nostrils even before he turned the key.
It smelled like a cat had sprayed his front door. And like pot. Cheap pot.
Had to be coming from the new neighbors down the hall. College kids. If the
smell didn't go away by the time he added the margarine, he'd knock on the door
and wave his badge.
Waaaaaaaoooooowwwhhh.
What the hell! A large orange striped cat hissed as Mulder walked into the
apartment.
It was a huge, one-eyed tabby that was missing part of an ear. And, judging by
the way the apartment smelled, the cat was an un-neutered tom.
The pot smell grew stronger as he neared his bedroom. Mulder drew his gun and
peeked in. There, sprawled on his bed was a very drunk, slightly high Alex
Krycek. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
Krycek regarded him through bloodshot eyes. "Feldman's pissed at me."
"And you're here because... ?"
"You're the only one who understands." Krycek took another toke from the
joint and held it out to Mulder. "Have some?"
Mulder snatched the joint and threw it down the toilet. "Explain the cat."
"It reminded me of Winky. I found him in an alley on my way over and I thought
it'd be a nice present for you. You must miss the little guy and"
Just then the tom ran into the room carrying one of Mulder's fish in its mouth,
which it dropped at Mulder's feet with another yowl.
That was the final straw for the federal agent. "Get out."
"Aww, c'mon, Mulder, you're the only one I can talk to about this. What do
you do when she's pissed, Mulder? Fucking her won't help. She doesn't want to
fuck... at least not without a condom"
"And who could blame her, considering it's you?" Mulder grabbed Krycek by his
good arm and dragged him to his feet.
"But Feldman's such a bitch"
"And now she's your bitch. You wanted her, you've got her. Enjoy and get the
hell out of my apartment."
Krycek grabbed Mulder's tie with his prosthetic hand. "Y'know why she's
pissed?"
"Because you're slime?"
"Because I like men." The triple agent rested his cheek against Mulder's
shirt. "I told her I kissed you and she thinks we're fucking, Mulder. She's
so jealous, so damned jealous... You wanna fuck, Mulder?"
Why him? Why? What did he do to deserve this? Oh, that's right. He had a
brief relationship with Ellen Feldman. "Krycek, why don't you go home to
Feldman and bring her a dozen really expensive roses and"
"I'd be gentle with you, Mulder," Krycek slurred, his hand dropping to
Mulder's crotch, stroking him through the thin layer of wool and cotton boxers.
"And it wouldn't affect my relationship with Feldman. I like her best, so
you'd have to live with that, but you'd have a real special place"
"Please, Krycek, get the hell out." He slapped Krycek's hand away before the
other man noticed the effect he was having. It was too damned weird, Feldman
sleeping with Krycek, Krycek asking for sex... All he wanted was imitation
cheese and look at this!
Krycek swayed slightly, cocking his head to one side and offering Mulder a
drunken smile that nevertheless was mesmerizing. "She'd never know, Mulder,
and I'd be so sweet to you, you'd love it and"
"Get. Out." He steered Krycek to the door, opened it and unceremoniously
tossed the man into the hallway. Mulder shut the door, locked it and leaned
against it. Now all he had to do was call animal control about the cat...
His head was killing him. Had he really propositioned Mulder last night? And
was it his imagination or did Mulder have a huge hard-on? Maybe that FBI
sandwich wasn't an impossibility after all
"Are you paying attention, Alex?"
"Huh?"
The smoker dropped the depleted Morley into his coffee cup, where it hissed
upon impact with the cold coffee. "We were discussing the assignment."
"Yeah, the assignment." It would be nice to get away for a while, get back to
work, away from shrill lawyer-women.
"I've arranged the plane tickets to New York"
"Wait. Did you say tickets? I only need one."
"For Feldman, of course." The smoker casually lit another cigarette.
"You've always requested to be partnered with her and now that she's amenable
to the situation, by all means, bring her with you."
"She's researching a big case."
"Provide me with a copy of her files. I'll see to it that she wins."
Would Feldman like that? He knew she'd like to go home to New York for a
while. "I don't think it would be a good idea for her to meet Strughold, him
being an ex-Nazi and all."
"Then bring her as an indulgence."
Why did he get the feeling the smoker wanted Feldman working for him? And why
was he resisting the idea when it was his idea in the first place? "She may not
want to go."
"She'll want to go."
Of course she would.
New York City. Her favorite place in the world. Her Ratboy was by her side
and they were here on business. Okay, to be fair, he was here on business, but
he needed her, even if the didn't realize it. And how considerate her Ratboy
was, finding a veterinary student to cat-sit her precious Winky.
It was probably the strangest apology she'd ever gotten from anybody. Trust
her Ratboy to apologize for ruining her case by offering to have it rigged for
her. Considering how much she hated research and insurance law in general,
she only let him squirm for ten minutes before she agreed and handed over the
file.
In return, he handed her a plane ticket, explained that she was coming with him
as an observer only and that mostly, what she'd be doing was shopping. He then
handed her money for her rent.
Her Ratboy was learning fast.
"So what's the job, Krycek," she asked, straining to keep up with him as they
made their way along Fifth Avenue.
"Just a meeting. A boring meeting." That was when he pushed her through the
revolving door of Saks and guided her towards the store directory. A wad of
cash was pressed into her hand and his lips brushed hers. "Here's a thousand,
kitten. Meet me back here at six and we'll go out for dinner. You can pick
the restaurant."
"Why can't I go to the meeting? And why didn't you let me read the file?"
"Don't start, Feldman. Just shop, will you?"
"I don't wanna shop, I wanna go with you!"
"Honey, there's no trouble for you to get into, so be a good girl and buy
something silky to wear to bed tonight. Something subtle. Not your usual
hooker get-up, okay?"
Arguing was getting her nowhere. Well, there were other ways of getting what
she wanted. She sighed. Someday, she would get that Oscar. "Oh, all right.
Any special color?"
"Sea foam green." He kissed her, long and hard and deep. "See you later."
"Right. Later." She counted to three and then she followed him. Maybe he was
a great operative, but he was operating on her home turf. And when it came to
being covert in New York, nobody but nobody was better than Ellen Feldman.
"You've been followed."
Krycek regarded Conrad Strughold with cold green eyes. He didn't trust this
man, didn't like him and really didn't want to be here, but this was his job
and he knew what would happen if he turned down this assignment. "You mean the
girl?"
Strughold nodded.
"Trainee. Don't worry about her." Damn Feldman for following him. It was
embarrassing that he'd been unable to lose her, but then again, she knew these
streets better than he did. He'd considered confronting her, sending her back
to the hotel, but what was she going to see? Him having coffee with an
ex-Nazi? Still, he was less than pleased with her right now.
"She must be very new to this to be so obvious. I wonder where they would
recruit such people from," Strughold commented. His eyes locked with Krycek's
and the younger man felt his stomach clench. "I recall when you were that
young, that inexperienced. Three years ago, wasn't it?"
"Four years." That was one of the few encounters he'd have preferred to
forget. Strughold had a fondness for floggers and handcuffs and four years
ago, Alex Krycek had indeed been young and inexperienced. The smoker had
selected him for Strughold for that very reason. Out of the corner of his eye,
he saw Feldman finish her iced coffee and signal for her check. Good. She was
leaving. He'd rather she wasn't here for whatever followed.
"And an eventful four years, nein?" A nod towards his damaged left arm. "I
was pleased to hear that you were once again in our service."
Krycek didn't miss the older man's emphasis on the last word.
"Of course, Kurt kept me apprised of your whereabouts. He mentioned an...
encounter in St. Petersburg. He's here in New York, you know. That's why I
asked for you."
Kurt? Here in New York? His cock twitched at the thought of the tall, blond,
blue-eyed Aryan god. "And?"
"There is some work to be done. Kurt suggested I ask for you. He would like
to work with you again. As would I." The German finished his coffee and
dabbed at his lips with the linen napkin. "I was unaware you were involved
with your own trainee. If this is an inconvenience... "
"Not at all." Strughold knew as well as he did that this was his assignment,
that he wasn't supposed to refuse. As far as his 'trainee' went... well, if
the smoker ever found out about it, he'd have a hell of a time explaining that
why she was here, not waiting for him in the hotel like a good little
'indulgence' should have been. "I'm sure I can find an errand for her to
run."
"Good. Let us have some more coffee and get re-acquainted."
"You're late." By an hour and fifteen minutes, she added silently.
Krycek avoided the unspoken accusation neatly. "What'd you get?"
"Couldn't find anything." Ratboy looked like he'd just gone ten rounds with
Holyfield. What the hell had he and that old guy been doing all afternoon?
She threw her arms around him and hugged him, sniffing carefully. Holy
mackerel! She was right! She did smell somebody else's cologne on him. Her
Ratboy smelled like Lagerfeld, sweat and... sex? With that old guy? Ewwww.
Gently, he pushed her back, his eyes revealing nothing as they met hers.
"Nothing?"
Her hasty trip through Saks didn't turn up much. If there was a dress she
liked, they didn't have it in her size. The lingerie department didn't have
anything interesting either. She dug in her pocket for the money he gave her
and handed it back to him. "Nothing."
"You mind ordering in tonight, kitten? I've got a god-awful headache."
"Well, there was this really cool restaurant in the Village I wanted to take
you to and"
"We can do it tomorrow." He guided her outside and hailed a cab.
Her Ratboy was being awfully quiet. Ellen blew on her 'Barely There Blush'
nail polish to make it dry faster and waited for him to come out of the shower.
No sooner had they walked into the hotel room than he rushed into the bathroom
and turned on the shower. He'd been washing himself for almost forty minutes.
The water finally stopped. The bathroom door opened and he came out, swathed
in the thick terry-cloth hotel robe, carrying his prosthetic.
"What do you think of this color," she asked, holding up her hands.
Anything to break the silence...
"It's okay." Krycek sat on the edge of the bed and reached for the phone. "I'm
ordering from room service, kitten. What would you like?"
"Grilled chicken Caesar and an iced tea, please, love." Did she just call him
'love'? Yikes.
If he noticed it, he didn't give any indication. "Yeah, this is room 1023.
We'd like a grilled chicken Caesar, an iced tea, a BLT and do you have any
vodka? Stoli would be perfect. Great. Room 1023."
Vodka? Uh-oh. Ellen turned in time to see him lay out a pair of green silk
pajamas, a deep emerald color. He shed the robe and reached for the bottoms.
That was when she saw the marks.
No wonder he looked like hell. That old guy whipped her Ratboy. He mowed her
lawn. And now she was pissed. She was going to get even with the old bastard
somehow. Why in God's name did her Ratboy let the old guy do that to him?
Her Ratboy could have kicked the old guy's ass, but it was obvious by the way
he lookednot to mention the way he smelled earlierthat her Ratboy let
this happen. Did he like it?
Their eyes met, unspoken accusations in hers and something cold and hard and
angry in his.
"We need to talk," he said.
"We most certainly do."
The tense moment was broken by a nasal, Queens accent. "Room service."
Krycek grabbed his wallet, opened the door, handed the kid a wad of cash and
wheeled the cart in himself.
"Shouldn't you have checked to see if it was really room service," Ellen asked.
He glared at her for a moment and then wordlessly reached into his bag,
produced a deadly-looking black gun and pressed it into her hand. "Here. You
cover me next time."
"I will."
"You do that."
"Fine."
"Good." Krycek reached for the Stoli, opened it and treated himself to a deep,
long drink from the bottle. "Why did you follow me?"
"Did you have sex with that old guy?"
"I asked you a question."
"I asked a more important one." Ellen snatched the bottle from his hand and
took a sip. God! How did he drink this stuff?! It made her eyes water and
her nose run.
Krycek took the bottle away from her and set it back down on the cart. "Don't
test my patience today, kitten, I'm not in the mood."
"Then you shouldn't have given me the gun." It was stuffed into the waistband
of her Levi's, ready if necessary. "Now, Ratski, I'm waiting for an answer.
Did you and that old guy have sex?"
"You really want the answer?" He glared down at her, the color starting to
return to his face. "Fine, kitten, here it is. Yes. We had sex. You want
the details? You have to tell me why you followed me when I told you not to."
"You know why I followed you." Because she worried about him. Because she
cared about him. Because she lo
"Because you don't know how to obey orders," he snapped. "That's going to hurt
you, Feldman, and you don't even realize it"
"I don't take orders from you, Ratboy"
"You'd better start, honey, because sooner or later, they're going to want a
return on their investment. You've taken way too much from them already.
You've gotten the vaccine, you're letting them rig a case from you... you
think you won't have to pay them back?"
"I don't work for them."
"Of course not. You do it for free."
No! This wasn't about her. This was about him having sex with other men. "Do
you love him, Alex?"
"What?!" He took another swallow from the bottle. "No, Jesus, Feldman,
stop being so damned dense. It was business, nothing more."
"Was it good?"
"Feldman, cut it out! I don't want to talk about this right now." The bottle
was empty and he tossed it into the wastebasket, where it shattered.
"So why did you bring me here? Comparison?" A whole bottle of Stoli and he
was still standing. She'd be drunk for a month.
"I was told to bring you, Feldman. The smoker told me to bring you," Krycek
spat. "I'm a good soldier, kitten. I follow my orders to the letter. I was
ordered to bend over for that old bastard and I did it. You think I liked
having that sonofabitch's cock up my ass? You think I liked having him call
me 'Russian filth' while he whipped me and choked me? You think I like that,
Feldman? Do you?"
"I don't understand"
"Orders, Feldman. Obedience." Krycek's normally silky voice was tight and
angry. "Strughold saw you today and you'd better hope he doesn't mention you
to the smoker because as much as my Russian ass got him off, it'd be nothing
compared to having a fresh, tight little piece of Jew ass like yours."
Strughold. There was a name for her to research. She focused on it, filed it
away and tried to ignore the impact of Krycek's words. "I wouldn't"
"You would and Strughold would gladly break you himself."
"I'm leaving," she decided, reaching for her purse. If she had to hitch back
to DC, she would. Anything to get the hell away from this sick existence that
her Ratboy seemed to thrive in. "Do me a favor and don't ever call me again."
"You need me, Feldman."
"For what?"
"To protect you from the Strugholds." He stabbed a finger into her chest.
"They own you and if they think I'm finished with you, they're gonna give you
to somebody else, you mark my words."
"They can try." She closed the hotel door quietly behind her. The Port
Authority wasn't that far away. If she walked, she'd have that much more
money for a bus home.
"I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."
"I felt like seeing you tonight." He could hear the strains of Wagner playing
in the background, could smell the incense burning. Sandalwood? Probably.
The tall, blond man smiled down at him. "Come in."
Just five inches difference between them, but Kurt von Rumohr was godlike while
he... well, he was damaged goods these days. "You look wonderful."
"As do you. Conrad is still here. Perhaps you would care to join us both
tonight?" Impossibly blue eyes swept over him, pausing at the bulge in his
jeans.
Why did this man always have that effect on him? Why? Especially when Kurt
was Strughold's special pet. And Strughold was here. Both of them tonight.
Just like in Berlin in 1994. An involuntary shudder ran through him, but he
suppressed it quickly. He could say no. He could leave. But he wanted Kurt
and Strughold was just a minor inconvenience. Tomorrow, they would kill
Strughold and the next, he would kill Kurt.
Krycek smiled up at Kurt. They were making the mistake of thinking he was
still inexperienced. They were going to regret that mistake.
Part Four
Three days and you'd think her Ratboy would have done something. A hang-up, an
impromptu appearance somewhere, but nothing. She even stopped by the townhouse
but he wasn't there. A small pile of flyers announced that he hadn't been
there in days, so she let herself in, watered the plants, stole one of his
shirts and left.
Where the hell was he?
Ellen shifted the bag of groceries to her other hand and let herself into her
apartment. McGovern paid her yesterday and today, she bought groceries. Life
was getting better. Granted, it was life without her Ratboy, but maybe she'd
meet someone else. She had a knack for meeting interesting men in the oddest
of circumstances.
"Good evening."
"Wha?" The bag of groceries crashed to the floor as she grabbed her can of
mace and switched on the light.
The smoker was sitting on her bed, smoking peacefully.
Ellen slammed the door and glared at him. "What did you do with my cat, you
bastard?"
"It's right behind you."
She looked down. Winky was poking his head into the grocery bag. Okay, score
one for the smoker. Ellen drew herself up. "What the hell do you want?"
"I have a settlement from the insurance company. They'll pay fifty thousand to
your client. Your client has already accepted and the money is being placed
into your segregated account." The smoker stood up and took a deep drag from
the Morley. "This apartment is a pitiful little sty."
"I'm not the one who got me fired from the FBI, chief."
"Aren't you?"
"You tell me." She brushed the hair back from her face. "And you still didn't
answer my question, Smokey. Somehow, I don't believe you're the Settlement
Fairy."
Cold, grey eyes regarded her with no small amount of amusement. "You ought to
be more grateful for what I've given you, Ellen."
"Which is what, exactly?"
"Everything you've had since the day you met Fox Mulder."
"Does that include that bout of food poisoning last August?"
"Perhaps. Such things can be arranged and most often are." He died the
cigarette out in one of her dishes, stubbing it out carefully. "A great deal
of things in your life have been arranged."
"Have they, now?"
"Of course they were."
"Well, gee, since you put it that way, thanks ever so."
"I must say, Ellen, that I'm quite pleased with you." The smoker produced a
fresh pack of Morleys and tore the red safety strip from the pack almost
lovingly. "Your recent accomplishments in our service have been performed
extraordinarily well."
Service? Performance? Aha! This was about Krycek. They wanted her to get
back together with Krycek. "What, exactly, do you want?"
"It seems that there is an embarrassing situation that needs to be corrected
discreetly." The smoker reached into his jacket again and handed her an
envelope. "I'm sending you to recover Alex Krycek."
"Recover him? From whom?"
"You have the file. I suggest you read it and get to work before he's
terminated." A golden cigarette lighter was flicked open to light the Morley
that dangled from the smoker's mouth. "Let me know what supplies you think
you'll need."
"How about those black beret guys you have working for you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why do I have to do this? You've got the whole stinking alphabet working for
you, friend. Why me?"
"Because you would get involved eventually." He blew a cloud of smoke into her
face.
"Okay, how much am I getting paid for this?"
"You're not. You've been doing this for free for quite some time"
"And living in a dump like this because of it," she snapped, reaching for his
pack of Morleys. When was the last time she had a cigarette? College? As she
lit it, she remembered why she quitthese things were vile. Despite that,
she blew a perfect smoke ring at her guest. "Unless you add me to the payroll,
you'd better find some other sucker to retrieve Alex."
"How much?"
"My usual fee is three hundred and fifty an hour," Ellen lied. Okay, she
inflated it by a hundred, so what?
"The services you provide can be purchased for about fifty dollars on most
street corners."
What a jerk! "I wasn't aware hookers did retrievals for you guys."
"One hundred an hour."
"Three."
"Two."
"Done. Plus expenses. And I might need some fake ID and guns and stuff."
"Those expenses had better not include clothes or manicures."
"Yeah, whatever." She took another puff from the cigarette. "One more thing."
"With you, there always is."
Ellen crushed the cigarette. God, this was her grandmother's fine china. She
was probably rolling in her grave. "Alex is out of the service industry if I
get him back, capisce?"
"Are you volunteering to be sent in his place?"
"No, I'm telling you that nobody mows my lawn."
"The services Alex provides are part of his job and he renders them
extraordinarily well."
How did this bozo know? Did he mow her lawn, too? "Not anymore or no deal,
Smokey."
"He doesn't work for you, Ellen"
"He does now. From here on in, I pre-approve all the jobs you want to send him
on. I've seen your files, friend, and I can spot the inaccuracies a mile away.
Alex is mine. He services me and me alone and I pick his jobs."
"Very well, Ellen, but understand that even if Alex works for you, you work for
me"
"And I pick my jobs, too." Face it, there were limited types of things he
could send her to do. "And I do not EVER service anybody, including and
especially you."
This elicited a dry chuckle from the smoker. "You're not my type."
Thank God for small favors. "Okay, let's review this file together, shall we?
And while we do, how about some coffee?"
The only thing worse than Scully having PMS was Scully's first day of her
period. She refused to take so much as an aspirin, instead she preferred to
slam doors, bang coffee cups on desks and snap at everybody in sight and then
wonder why they all asked if she was on the rag.
And wouldn't you know it was just his luck that there wasn't even an autopsy to
be performed today? He'd been so desperate to escape that he actually visited
Skinner and volunteered to go over a couple of expense reports. Skinner took
one look at the calendar, the date circled in red magic marker, and locked his
office door, politely informing Kim that under no circumstances was Scully to
be allowed in. His AD was many things, but he was no fool.
Mulder turned the key in his lock and wondered if King Ying would deliver in
the pouring rain. Sesame chicken and one of his movies sounded like a sure bet
for tonight andoh damn it all to hell.
There was a note on the floor. His hand immediately went to the gun holstered
at his side and he decided not to bother bending down to read it. Besides, he
could read the big block letters from hereYO! "Krycek, I'm not in the mood
tonight"
"You been mowing my lawn, Ace?"
"Feldman?!"
"The one and only."
"Shit!" He turned on the lights to see the petite lawyer curled up on his
couch, watching him intently. Mulder hesitated for a second and then drew his
gun, aiming it at her. "Where's your other half?"
"Put that thing away, Mulder. I'm not armed." She grinned at him, obviously
unafraid. "Besides, you forgot to turn off the safety."
He disengaged the safety. "I asked you a question, Feldrat, and I expect an
answer."
"Feldrat?" Ellen gave him a look that was innocence personified. "Oh, Mulder,
are you jealous?"
"You have exactly five seconds to answer me before I bust you for breaking and
entering."
Feldman sighed. "I'm here because I need your help."
Did that mean she finally came to her senses and wanted to get away from
Ratboy? "Do you?"
"Alex is in trouble, Mulder, and I can't rescue him by myself."
It took a full second for him to digest that. "Why are you bothering me with
this, Feldman? I thought Carmine"
"Carmine can't make an arrest, Mulder. That's where you come in." She held up
a small manila envelope. "See, there's these Russian terrorists who are hiding
in the embassy in New York and they're planning on giving germ warfare
technology to these Serbian terrorists and I think that kind of falls into your
jurisdiction. Mostly because the germ they want to use is something you've
seen before, during one of your investigations. Here, look at the file."
Gingerly, Mulder took the envelope and shook out the pictures inside. Damn.
Crime scene photos showing the effects of the biotoxin Haley and Bremer were
using. "Where did you get these, Feldman?"
"Well, you know those guys Alex works for? They have all sorts of
information and when Alex isn't around, I sneak through his stuff to see what
those guys are up to. Some of it would make the hair on the back of your neck
stand up, Mulder." Feldman examined her manicure with a frown. "Damn, I
chipped a nail picking your locks."
She was snooping through the Consortium's files and all she was worried about
was her nail polish? "Why tell me?"
"I thought maybe we could cut a deal. You help me, just this once, and maybe I
can be your little informant." Her voice had more than a flirtatious lilt to
it. "I'd say call me 'Deep Throat' but knowing your fascination with porn... "
That was too tempting. Feldman was on the inside and she was offering him
information, but could he still trust her? Probably not. Still, it was worth
exploring. "Give me one good reason why I should help you rescue Krycek."
"Because he helped you."
"He also killed my father and Scully's sister." Mulder kept his voice neutral,
despite what he still felt. "Did you know he experimented on prisoners in
Tunguska?"
"Oh, but Mulder," Feldman whined, her lower lip trembling, "I love him!"
"You... love... Krycek?! Are you out of your mind? He kidnapped you! He
shot you! He hit you and I barely stopped him from raping you once. How the
hell can you say you love him?!"
"He's changed."
Stockholm Syndrome. It had to be Stockholm Syndrome. With a little shock
therapy and maybe a frontal lobotomy, she'd be fine. "Yeah, he's worse than
ever."
"Oh, please, Mulder." Feldman was on her feet now, grabbing his tie, staring
up at him with the most pitiful expression on her face. "Please say you'll get
my sweet Alex back for me?"
"Forget it, Feldman. If you need help, go to your cigarette-smoking
godfather."
"B-but, Mulder," she whined.
Oh Christ, was she about to cry? He hated when she cried. "Feldman... "
"Mulder, I'm pregnant."
"What?!"
Why the hell did she tell him that? Oh, but look it worked. Mulder was
falling for it. He was checking out her stomach. "The doctor called this
morning and confirmed that I'm six weeks along and Alex doesn't know. Mulder,
please help me. You don't want my baby growing up without a father, do you?"
"Look, Feldman... " Mulder finally slid the safety back into place and
holstered his gun. "This can be fixed. Scully's got some friends who can get
rid of it for you and I know people who can perform exorcisms or Indian chants
or whatever else we need to"
She dropped to her knees and grabbed his handyes, she should definitely be
nominated for an Oscar. A few sniffles and Mulder was practically putty in
her hands. "Please... I want this baby... I've never wanted anything this bad
in my whole life... and Alex takes such good care of me... he'll be so happy
about being a f-father... oh, Mulder, please... "
"All right, all right, geez, Feldman."
"Oh, Mulder, how can I ever repay you?" She threw her arms around his waist
and pressed her face against the front of his pants. Well, well, well. Look
who had a hard-on. And yes, it was smaller than her Ratboy's.
"Get up, Feldman." He squirmed away from her, obviously embarrassed.
She got to her feet and shot him another innocent look. "Now what do we do?"
"Uh... we, uh... " Mulder cleared his throat. "We stop by my office so I can
pull a couple of files."
This was too easy. Wait 'til she told the smoker. Maybe he'd give her a
bonus.
How did he get himself into these things? Krycek lapped at the bowl of water
and tried to ignore the screaming muscles in his back and neck. Every inch of
his body ached, as well it should. He'd been beaten and fucked continuously
for the past three days by Kurt and Strughold.
This latest humiliation, being forced to eat and drink from dog bowls, wasn't
as horrible as some of the things he had to endure at Strughold's hands,
although he could have done without the kibble. He promised himself that if
he ever got out of this and got a dog, he'd never make it eat that stuff. Now
he knew why Feldman refused to feed Winky cat food.
Feldman. Yes, there it was. The reason he was eating Purina and wearing a
pink studded collar right now. If she hadn't been such a whiny pain in the
ass, he wouldn't have gone running to Kurt and ended up in this mess.
Ah. Who was he kidding? This would have happened anyway. His own damned
fault for wanting to see Kurt and for forgetting that Kurt was loyal to
Strughold and Strughold was loyal to the Project. And, it seemed, the
Russians.
Strughold, who hated anybody who wasn't Aryan (which included the Russians)
didn't have a problem taking their money. They wanted Krycek and they were
willing to pay Strughold a great deal for him, including the formula to the new
and improved vaccine. All of which made Strughold one happy Nazimoney and
the continuation of the Project, not to mention one less inferior Slav (namely,
Alex Krycek) to worry about.
And Kurt, who had been so tender in St. Petersburg, turned out to be as big a
prick as his owner. As soon as Kurt mentioned that Strughold was still in the
house, he should have turned and ran, but that would have blown his mission all
to hell. They would have suspected. Instead, like a complete amateur, he let
them strip him of his gun, his clothes and his prosthetic and maneuver him into
their little makeshift dungeon.
Krycek's stomach growled and he found himself considering the kibble again.
God knew, he'd eaten worse in the silo in North Dakota.
"Look, Kurt. Our puppy is awake." Strughold's voice, coming from the stairs.
Moments later, the old man was just out of reach, holding that damned cattle
prod.
Krycek eyed him warily. He was still sore from yesterday's 'obedience lesson'.
"I still see that defiant look in his eyes," Kurt said, coming up behind
Strughold. "I don't think our lessons have taken hold."
The suck-up. So much for all those promises in St. Petersburg. What a
pleasure it was going to be to kill good old Kurt.
"Kurt, do be a dear and fetch the puppy's choke collar and harness."
"What about his muzzle, sir?"
Yes, it would definitely be a pleasure to kill Kurt.
"Bring the rest of the equipment as well. His show is coming up and we want
our little Russian wolfhound to look his best."
The rest of the equipment? Before his mind could wander through the
possibilities, Strughold gave him a shot with the cattle prod. "Jesus!"
"Yes, if I were you, young Alex, I would pray to whatever heathen god I
believed in." Strughold's face was a mask of pure evil. "The Russians want
you alive. And you will be. Consider this a mercy, boy. When they get you,
you won't last long."
Swell.
Ellen watched as Mulder held up his ID, showed his weapon and went through the
security gate. He waited for her on the other side and she was determined to
make a show of it. She reached into her purse, retrieved the NSA
identification that the smoker gave herlevel 2 clearance, yetand showed
her shiny new gun, snug in its black leather Coach shoulder holster monogrammed
with her initials. The gun and the holster were gifts from the smoker. Maybe
he wasn't as bad as she always thought.
Mulder snatched the identification from her as she walked past the security
guard. "Give me the gun, too, Feldman."
"Nothing doing, Mulder, it's mine." She yanked her ID from his grasp and
pocketed it.
The Federal Agent held out his hand, expectantly. "Give it to me or I'm not
helping you."
"Sorry, Mulder, you know the rules. Can't give up my weapon to someone from an
inferior agency." So there. And she really did work for the NSAthe smoker
arranged that, too, just in case Mulder did a background check.
"Feldman... "
"Mulder."
"The gun and the badge. Now."
Of course, she was supposed to be an innocent dupe, not working for the smoker
and if she had to explain where she got all this stuff... Wait. She could
explain it. With a whine, she batted her eyes at Mulder. "But Mulder, Alex
gave these to me. They have sentimental value and I might need them"
"You can keep the holster, Feldman." With that, he grabbed her expertly,
pushed her against the wall and took her gun. Still holding her, he reached
into her purse and took her badge. Satisfied, he stepped back.
What a jerk! She decided to have a little fun and put him in his place at the
same time. "Mulder, you shouldn't be so rough with me. I might lose the
baby."
And look at Muldershocked and guilty. This was too easy.
The federal agent sighed and patted her shoulder. "Sorry."
This fake pregnancy thing was working better than she thought. She decided to
test her acting skills some more. "Oh! Jeez, I feel faint... "
Mulder caught her arm, steadying her. "Alright, Feldman, let's go to my office
and you can sit down for a while."
"Crackers."
"What?"
"They help with the nausea."
"Fine. I'll get you some."
Sucker.
Part Five
The temporary office was far more cramped than the basement, but at least it
was private. And thankfully, Our Lady of the Menses, Dana Scully, decided to
call it a day early. Mulder set the can of Coke and package of saltines in
front of Feldman who had commandeered his notepad and was writing out a list of
baby names.
At the top of the list was Alex Junior, but that seemed to have been crossed
out and a notation that Jews don't name after the living put next to it.
Mulder was instantly sorry he didn't get some crackers for himself.
Ellen blinked up at him. "What do you think of Fox Krycek?"
"I don't. Please don't make me."
He logged into his computer and slid his reading glasses on. "Okay, Feldman,
start reading me some names from that file."
"Strughold."
That name wasn't in the file. Not according to his eidetic memory. Before
he could question her about it, she was at his elbow, grabbing the keyboard and
typing furiously.
Mulder leaned back to watch the expert at work.
Feldman hissed and exited the search program he was using. "Not this one,
Mulder. Let's try a Lexis property search. New York County within 10
Strughold and go. There we are. Hmmm. Let's try New York within 20 Strughold
and go. Okay. We've got three properties in New York City and one in Suffolk
County, looks like Fire Island. Mulder, do me a favor and run a check on
Conrad Strughold for priors."
"I thought you said the Russians have Krycek."
"They do. Sort of." Feldman laid her hand over his. "I did something really
bad, Mulder, so you have to promise not to tell Alex."
God, she sounded so scared and small. Was this the same woman who was
waving that fake NSA ID just half an hour ago? "Feldman, if Krycek is hurting
you"
"Oh, no, Mulder, he'd never, ever hurt me or our baby." Feldman's other hand
was now resting on his knee. "But he might get a wee bit upset if he found out
I went through his appointment book. You promise you won't tell him?"
That clinched it. She was lying about something. Damned if he could figure
out what, though. And she was uncomfortably close to him. Close enough for
him to smell her perfume and her shampoo. Feldman always had that
unbelievably feminine smell to her, while Scully smelled of strawberries. He
just hoped she didn't notice that he was more than a little happy to see (or
was that smell) her.
"I promise, Feldman." He cleared his throat and typed the name as it appeared
in the Lexis print-out she thrust under his nose with her delicate,
French-manicured fingers.
"Thank you, Mulder."
Before he realized what she was doing, her lips brushed his cheek and he was
positive they left a trace of her lipstick.
What the hell had he gotten himself into?
The smoker crushed the empty pack of cigarettes as he listened to his
subordinate.
"Mulder was doing a search on Strughold, sir. Feldman was with him, directing
him. We taped their conversation and it would appear that Feldman is carrying
Krycek's child." The nervous young man thrust a sheaf of papers at the
smoker. "We transcribed the conversation for you, sir."
"Excellent. Return to your duties, Thompson. If I have further need of you,
I'll be in touch." He watched the young security guard leave and smiled down
at the papers in his hand. Recruiting Feldman might well have been the best
decision he'd ever made. It sounded as though she had Mulder eating out of her
beautifully manicured hands.
"Alex."
"Fuck you, Kurt."
"Alex, you know I wouldn't have done this to you." The blond man looked less
like an angel and more like demon in the meager light in the basement of the
New York city townhouse. "Conrad... well, you know Conrad and how he feels
about inferior races. And about the Project. You should never have sold that
information, Alex. Never should have worked for the Russians"
"You worked for the Russians, too, as I recall," Krycek hissed. Embarrassing.
Humiliating. His one good arm was cuffed to a belt around his waist
something that seemed to have been custom made in anticipation of a moment like
this. His body... God, he didn't want to think about it... bent over the
wooden horse, legs spread wide, ankles chained to hooks set in the floor and
Kurt behind him, fucking him mercilessly.
There was a time when he would have willingly let Kurt do this to him. Now it
was torture. And still, he was aroused by Kurt's less than tender attentions.
Kurt leaned forward and licked the shell of Krycek's right ear. "Conrad
mentioned you have a trainee. A woman. Tell me about the things you've
trained her to do for you, Alex."
Damn Feldman for following him. He could handle something like this, but
Feldman? What would she do if Strughold got her? Or Kurt? Kurt would be so
gentle with her, at first, and then the demands would come. Somehow, he
couldn't imagine her in restraints, allowing herself to be whipped and
degraded. On the other hand, he could see Feldman as the one doing the
whipping and the degrading.
"Alex?" A sharp, stinging slap on his bare ass brought his attention back to
the man who was fucking him. "I believe I asked you a question."
"She's dead. I beat her for following me and she didn't have a high tolerance
for pain." God, degrading and it felt sooo good, the pressure of Kurt's cock
on his prostate, slamming into him. Deep. Hard. Fast. His sinuses ached
with each thrust and he knew he was going to come.
"Unlike you."
"Yes." Oh, god, yes... yes...
"I find it very odd that you say the Russians and Serbs are involved and yet
the only name you have is a member of the German consulate."
Ellen leaned back in her seat and looked out the airplane window, ignoring
Mulder for the moment. She was too busy thinking about the dirt she found on
Strughold while she sent Mulder for another pack of saltines. The Interpol
databases didn't turn up anything, but a quick search of the Simon Weisenthal
Center database and the Holocaust Museum Database indicated that the name
turned up in several survivor accounts. Unfortunately, those documents were
not available online and she didn't have time to go read them.
"Feldman?"
"Just a second, Mulder. This take-off is making me nauseous again." Fake
nausea was becoming even more useful than her usual PMS excuse.
Mulder reached into his jacket and produced another packet of saltines. "I
have some more of these."
Speaking of PMS, she was four days away from her period. If she kept eating
salt, she was going to bloat to the size of this airplane. "Not right now,
okay?"
"Sure, Feldman." Hazel eyes regarded her with just a hint of amusement. Did
he suspect she was lying about the pregnancy?
Ellen found herself doing a comparison of Mulder and her Ratboy. One thing
about Ratboy, he wasn't as easy to push around as Mulder was. All you had to
do was wave the word 'conspiracy' in front of Mulder and he jumped through
whatever hoops you put in front of him, as long as you promised the truth would
be found through the last hoop. Krycek was more of a 'big picture' kind of
guy. If she lied and told Krycek she was pregnant, you could bet he'd have one
of those kits and ask her to pee on the strip while he watched just so he could
have the pleasure of seeing the test results himself. He didn't make it easy
for her. She liked that. Really liked that. And her Ratboy was creative in
bed without resorting to taco sauce.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Feldman?"
"Do you have any idea how nice it is not to smell like taco sauce after sex?"
Mulder's face screwed up in distaste. "I'd rather not hear about your sex life
with Krycek. It's bad enough knowing you're carrying Damien in there"
"Avi, Mulder. I've decided if it's a boy, I'm naming it Avi." A nice, Jewish
name. Avi Krycek. Good lord, maybe she should have a couple more of those
saltines. "Please call my fetus 'Avi' from now on."
"What if it's a girl?"
"It's a boy. I can feel it. And he's gonna be just like his daddy"
"Feldman! Please. Can we talk about something else? Anything... "
What a wuss! Ellen sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "You'll come
to Avi's bris, won't you?"
"Yeah... right." Mulder cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "To get back to my
original question, Feldman, what about the Russians and the Serbs?"
Well, they were airborne, so he couldn't turn back now. Ellen decided to pull
out all the stops and do her 'Bambi eyes' for him. Good, she had his full
attention. "You remember mentioning Tunguska, Mulder? Well, that's where the
Russians come in. They want my Alex. I think Strughold is working for them."
"And the biotoxin?"
"Is part of the deal." Actually, it was just a really good cover story that
she and the smoker concocted. He was a devious sonofabitch and she was
starting to really respect him. After all, he was the one who insisted Mulder
would jump when she mentioned the biotoxin and damned if he wasn't right.
He supposed the Mighty Dog was an improvement over the Purina Puppy Chow, but
did Kurt have to be so damned cheerful about it? Kurt was going to pay for
this latest indignity, Krycek thought bitterly. Okay, maybe he should be
grateful they didn't make him finish the Puppy Chow, that Kurt brought him a
fresh can of beef-flavored Mighty Dog, re-filled his water dish and gave him a
rawhide bone. On the other hand, maybe he was going to shove that fucking
bone up Kurt's ass. Without lube. Well, maybe using the Mighty Dog as lube.
Yes, that certainly sounded like a plan to him. Of course, knowing Kurt, he'd
probably like that.
Krycek tugged at the handcuff on his right wrist once more. Not much slack
there. Not much slack on the chain attached to the dog collar, either. At
least they'd taken the choke collar off. Still, it would be a long time
before he found erotic asphyxiation the slightest bit erotic again.
It was times like these he cursed those peasants for 'saving' him from the
tests. No arm, no test. Well, he cured them of that notion real fast. Not
that it was helping him now. No arm meant one less hand to use to try to
escape. On the plus side, it made it harder to restrain him because most
restraints were constructed with two hands in mind.
He was past his deadline for executing Strughold. No doubt the smoker was
considering this mission a complete scrub, would deny everything and absolutely
wouldn't send anybody to rescue him. As usual, it was up to him to save his
own ass.
And his ass most assuredly needed saving, particularly from Strughold. Having
the handle of a riding crop shoved up there was not a pleasant experience.
Maybe he shouldn't have made that remark about Strughold not being able to get
it up more than twice a day. Nah, it was worth it, even if Strughold shoved
that handle in just a little further and a little more furiously.
Ifno, whenwhen he got out of here, he was going to tell Feldman she was
right, he was going to swear off men and... . Yeah, who was he kidding? It
was part of the job. Sometimes, it was a part of the job he really, really
liked. Of course, he could still lie and tell Feldman she was right.
And right there was the oddest thing about his present situation. He missed
Feldman. Yes, he thought about her when he was trapped in the silo and when
he was in Asia and in Russia, but it was always as an abstract concept. What
would it be like if he could have Feldman. If she would do the things for him
that she did for Mulder. Now Feldman was doing things for him that she
never did for Mulder. Or resisting doing things for him that she never did
with Mulder. Like getting herself off while he watched. You'd think Mulder
would have loved watching that. God knew, he'd love to see that.
Okay, Alex, he told himself. Twenty-four hours. He'd get himself out of here
in twenty-four hours.
"Maybe you ought to give me my gun and ID back."
"Maybe you ought to explain why we're standing in front of the German consulate
and not the Russian consulate."
Ellen fought the urge to roll her eyes and call Mulder a dumbass. "It could
have something to do with the fact that the only name we've got is Strughold's.
What do you think?"
"I think I don't have jurisdiction."
"If you gave me my NSA credentials, Mulder, we'd have jurisdiction." Since
when did he become such a stickler for the rules? Was he going to ask her to
draft a search warrant next?
"Those credentials are fake."
"They're real enough to pass, Mulder. Have a little more faith in my Rauh,
my Alex."
Mulder sighed and reached into his jacket. He held the ID just out of reach.
"All right, Feldrat, let's see if this works."
Again with the Feldrat? Jerk. She straightened the lapels of her black suit
oh yes, she wore the ultra-conservative black one on purpose. As conservative
as it was, it showed just enough leg to get anybody's attention and it was cut
to show off whatever curves she possessed. Her Ratboy bought it for her,
naturally. Ellen took the identification and rang the bell.
Moments later, a man who instantly reminded her of a young Adolf Hitler
answered the door. "Ja?"
She held up the ID. "Conrad Strughold."
"We would like to speak" Mulder began, but a quick elbow to his stomach
shut him up before he blew her little power play out of the water.
"He is not here." The door started to close again, but Ellen jammed her
briefcase in just in time. Yeah, as if she would be stupid enough to risk
scuffing her Joan & David pumps...
"Just a second, Adolf," Ellen snapped. She could feel Mulder starting to freak
out behind her. "This is a matter of national security. Step aside and let us
in. We're going to search the premises."
"We have diplomatic immunity"
"Then I suggest you get on the phone with my superiors right now to discuss
it." And then she brought out the big gun. She reached into her blouse and
pulled out the large Star of David charm that belonged to her grandmother. Big
and gold with a decent-sized diamond in the center on a nice, thick rope chain.
Adolf blanched visibly.
"L'chaim, buddy."
"There seems to be a situation in midtown," the fat man with the bad teeth
said. "A woman whose description matches that of Ellen Feldman is harassing
our friends in the German Embassy, looking for Strughold."
The smoker lit a fresh cigarette, inhaled and then exhaled slowly. "Strughold
has Krycek and intends to sell him to the Russians. Feldman's merely
protecting what she perceives is her property."
"She has NSA credentials," the fat man said.
"My. I wonder where she would have gotten those."
"You should warn Strughold."
"Of Feldman? What threat to him would she be," the smoker asked,
incredulously.
Small beady eyes set in that fat face glared at him. "Mulder is with her."
"I see. Very well. I'll let Strughold know."
In addition to all the other aches and pains, the nausea from the tranquilizer
that Strughold shot him with was making it hard to think. Krycek groaned and
tried to concentrate on his new surroundings. Okay, it was another basement,
but this one was really set up like a dungeon. A set of rings hung from the
ceiling and Krycek knew, just knew, he'd be hanging from them very soon.
There was also a flat table with restraints and stirrups. Various types of
whips adorned the wall and naturally, the ceiling was completely mirrored so
that he'd have to watch whatever further indignities he'd be forced to suffer.
This morning had been awful. Strughold kept at him with the cattle prod until
he'd actually finished the bowl of dog food. Of course, he then threw up the
dog food all over Strughold. Feldman would have been proud of him. After
all, wasn't that one of her tricks?
Strughold, naturally, was furious and ordered Kurt to fuck him until his ears
bled, which Kurt attempted. Such a good man for following orders, Kurt was.
Okay, Kurt did succeed in inducing a nose bleed, not to mention more welts on
Krycek's back. Plus one very intense orgasm for Alex.
Sometime after that, Strughold jabbed that needle into his neck and the next
thing he knew, he was here. Wherever here was. Hell, for all he knew, he
could be in Bern.
Krycek heaved a weary sigh and looked for something, anything he could use to
pick the lock. Because once his hand was free, he'd get this fucking plug out
of his ass. And what a blessing that would be.
The smoker dialed the phone and wondered what Feldman was going to say when she
didn't find Strughold. Of course, he didn't give her Strughold's name to begin
with and how she got it was a complete mystery to him. Unless Krycek was
telling her more than he let on. Not that it would bother him. For an
amateur, Feldman did amazingly good work.
"Strughold."
"Conrad. How pleasant to hear your voice."
"Why are you bothering me?"
"There is an urgent matter in Tataouine that requires your immediate return."
A sigh. "Nobody else can handle this? I'm in the middle of a transaction that
will"
"I'm aware of the transaction, Conrad. I'll handle it from here. You need to
return to Tunisia." He blew a single smoke ring and watched it hover through
the air. "Is Krycek still alive?"
There was a moment of silence. "For now. My friend, there is a favor I would
like to ask of you."
"By all means."
"Alex was accompanied to our initial meeting by a charming young woman who left
before I could get an introduction. He mentioned she was a trainee. If you
are amenable, I thought perhaps I could train her for you, since Alex won't be
able to"
"I'm afraid that's impossible."
"And why is that, old friend?"
"She's my trainee." He hung up the phone and died out the cigarette. Feldman.
And as usual, she was someplace where she shouldn't have been. Well, at least
from now on, he'd be able to control her exposure. If she proved that she
could handle Mulder as well as he hoped, she would be worth every moment of
aggravation.
"Feldman, this is absolutely crazy. I'm not going to let you wander around
Manhattan flashing phony credentials and"
"Mulder, shut up, will you? I can't think with you whining like that." God,
when did Mulder become such a complainer? Must be Scully's influence, she
decided. Ellen fished out the list of addresses and sighed. Okay, there was
a townhouse on the Upper West side in the Seventies and then there was one in
the Thirties on the East Side. Not far from the Heliport. She thought for a
moment and decided she liked the one on the East Side better. If you needed to
stash somebody and make a quick getaway by helicopter, that would be the place
to do it. "Okay, Mulder, we're making one more stop. 333 East 38th Street."
"Feldman"
"Mulder, I'm gonna do this with you or without you." She glared at him. "I
just can't believe you'd abandon a pregnant woman."
"I would gladly abandon a pregnant woman who's lying through her teeth."
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"Yes."
What a prick! Ellen stifled the urge to whack him one. "Okay, Mulder what am
I lying about? Am I lying that my sweet Alex is missing? That this Strughold
bastard wants to trade him to the Russians? That there's this lethal biotoxin?
That I'm pregnant? Goddammit, Mulder, you of all people should recognize the
truth when you see it."
Oh would you look at that! She could play him like a harp. Now for the coup
de grace. Ellen clutched her stomach and lurched toward him on shaky legs.
"Oh... oh, God... Mulder... I'm gonna faint... the doctor warned me to avoid
stress... oh..it hurts... "
Mulder caught her as she fell onto him. "Easy, Feldman."
How she could be this good without a single acting class was beyond her, but
she was. A deep, shaky breath. "Mulder, I'm scared... I don't want to lose
Alex... "
"You know there are a lot of nice men out there. Lawyers. Doctors. White
collar criminals," Mulder suggested, patting her back. "Men with steady jobs,
two arms, that don't kill people for a living and"
"I've dated them, Mulder, and those men are balding, fat, underpaid,
undereducated, impotent slobs who still live with their parents and watch Star
Trek. Do you have any idea how many godawful dates I had after you dumped me?
I was keeping Duracell in business." Well, maybe she didn't have to mention
Duracell. "Alex is... my God, Mulder, he's sexy and smart, he's got a steady
job, travels, has a great body, dresses well, is fantastic in bed and he loves
me so"
"Feldman, please. I don't think I need to hear this."
"Actually, Mulder, if you hadn't dumped me, Alex and I would never have gotten
together."
"Feldman, please... "
"Ohhh," she moaned. Maybe she'd take an acting class to work on some of this.
The smoker would pay for it. Probably.
"Do you want me to take you to a hospital?"
"No, Mulder, we don't have time. We have to find Alex," she whined.
Part Six
"Ach, my little puppy, the time has come for me to say goodbye."
Alex cast a wary stare up at Strughold as the German caressed his cock
lovingly. How long had he been strapped down on this table anyway? Two
hours? Three? And how many times had he been forced to come since then? It
was starting to get on his nerves, not to mention making him more than a little
sore, tired and miserable. "Sorry to see you go, Conrad. I was looking
forward to breaking the world's record for most forced orgasms in one day."
The old man chuckled humorlessly. "There is still a chance for you, my boy.
I'm sure Kurt would be happy to continue what we've started."
"Speaking of which... is there a point to all this? Breaking me? Torture?
Making up for your pitiful sex life?"
A bony hand struck him across the face, hard enough to hurt and Strughold
leaned over so Krycek could see his eyes. They were cold and inhuman. "The
point, puppy? To show you your place. You think you've learned so much in
four years that you would be capable of killing me? Yes, that's right. I
know all about that. And let me tell you something, stripling, I have been
meting out death longer than you have been alive. It will take a better breed
than you to kill me."
"One of the Master Race? Don't bet on it."
"Brave talk from a dead man. Kurt!"
"Yes, Conrad?" A quick glance in the mirror and he could see Kurt watching his
master with a rapt, love-struck expression. What had he ever seen in Kurt?
The man was an overgrown Ken dollanatomically correct maybebut dumb as a
piece of plastic. A great fuck, but never a good conversationalist.
"Our friends will be here tonight. See to it that the puppy gives them no
trouble. You may amuse yourself until they arrive."
"Thank you, Conrad. I shall." That beautiful, strong featured face hovered
over his as Kurt's finger traced his lips. The contact made him sick and
angry. Tempting to bite the finger off, but better to wait until Conrad was
gone. Kurt would be easy to manipulate and maybe he could sweet-talk the
pretty empty-headed fool into setting him loose.
"Farewell, Alex."
Jesus! Krycek winced as those dry old lips brushed his. Yes, he'd kill
Conrad if he had to come back from the dead to do it.
"Oh yes, I forgot to mention... " Strughold cupped his face with a bony,
callused hand. "You needn't worry about your trainee. I'll make sure she
learns everything I've taught you. I haven't had the pleasure of training a
woman in a very long time, but since she was yours, it is the least I can do."
"You said she was dead, Alex. You lied to me!" Kurt sounded like a child who
just found out there was no such thing as Santa. "I'm going to have to punish
you for that."
Yeah, Kurt, whatever. He needed to get out of this, keep Feldman away from
Strughold... Damn her for following him. Well, if he didn't get out of this
fast, she was going to learn her lesson the hard way.
When was she going to learn her lesson, Ellen wondered as she watched Mulder
puking over the railing of the Fire Island ferry. Fat lot of help he'd been.
All he did was complain. Complained when she dragged him to the midtown
address that turned out to be a soup standokay, he did make that funny soup
Nazi remark, but he criticized her detective skills and then complained during
the drive to the ferry. And naturally, they got stuck in construction by the
Seaford-Oyster Bay Expressway.
She pulled a small package of Kleenex out of her purse and thrust it under his
nose. "Thirty minutes til we dock, Mulder. Think you'll survive so we can
save Alex?"
The federal agent was positively green and looked absolutely miserable. Hard
to believe he could get this sick during a ferry ride. Mulder plucked out a
tissue and wiped at his mouth. "I'll be fine, Feldman but I think we need to
have a little conversation."
Uh-oh. Ellen thought fast. Did she slip up somewhere? Tell Mulder something
she shouldn't have?
"There aren't any Russians, Serbs or biotoxins are there, Feldman?"
"Well, there are," she said, slowly. How did he finally get a clue? Did he
know all along? "Just not here."
"I can't help you if I don't know what I'm up against. In fact, Feldman, I
won't help you." He leaned over the side again, retched noisily and used
another tissue. "So much for lobster bisque. What makes you think this
Strughold person has Krycek?"
Ellen nibbled at her lower lip, weighing what she could tell Mulder without
compromising Krycek's work. Or her own. "I just do."
"That's not good enough."
There had to be a lie that would work. Or a partial truth. Mulder didn't have
to know the reasons why her Ratboy was meeting with Strughold. Hell, she
didn't even know all of them. "Alex was supposed to meet with him a few days
ago and he never came home."
"Meet with him for what reason?"
"I don't know. He doesn't tell me everything."
"But he told you Strughold's name?"
Think fast, Feldman, and keep it plausible. "No. I told you, Mulder, I went
through his appointment book."
"Feldman, I seriously doubt Krycek would keep an appointment book."
"Okay, Mulder, you win. I'll tell you the truth." Yeah, right. "We had a
fight because I thought he was going to meet another woman. Sometimes he has
to because it's part of the job and he says I shouldn't be jealous, but Mulder,
I don't want some other bitch mowing my lawn and I told him so. It got kind of
ugly and Strughold's name came up, sort of in the context of there'd be no way
in hell he'd let himself be mowed by Strughold. Because Strughold's a man, I
mean."
Mulder leaned back against the railing, holding onto it with both hands. It
was obvious he was having trouble standing up straight. "Did he tell you what
the meeting involved?"
"You asked me that already."
"You keep giving different answers, so I figured I didn't have anything to lose
by asking again."
"Sorry, that one stays the same. Alex doesn't tell me much about his work."
The federal agent studied her carefully, his expression showing that he wasn't
fully satisfied with her answer. "You've got a pretty good idea what that work
involves, Feldman, and I hate to be the one to point this out to you that
Krycek could be dead by now."
"He's not."
"Don't be so sure of that."
"You bastard! Don't you dare say that! He's alive! I know he is! All you
have to do is look at him to know he can survive anything"
"So why does he need your help, Feldman?"
"Because he'd help me, Mulder. He's already helped me."
"He's helped you by making you as big a target as he is"
"You made me a target first, Mulder, so you have no right standing there
passing judgment!"
"Yeah, but I let you go. You were the one who chose to go looking for Ratboy
because you can't stay out of trouble."
"You've got it backwards. He came looking for me. Unlike you, he gave a damn
about whether I was okay." Ellen had never been this close to slugging Mulder
before but it was starting to look like a damned good idea. "He's better to me
than you ever were and don't you dare call him that name, Mulder! You don't
know anything about him"
"I know he's a murderer and a liar and"
"And you're here helping me rescue him, so he can't be all that bad, can he?"
"Feldman, the only reason I'm here is because you asked me to help you."
"If that's how you feel then go home. I don't need your help, Mulder. I've
been doing fine on my own so far. I can rescue Alex all by myself"
"Assuming there's something to rescue."
"He is NOT dead! I don't lose, Mulder. Do you hear me?! I NEVER lose"
"This isn't a courtroom, Feldman. There are no rules here"
"That makes it much better for me, then, doesn't it?" She turned away from
Mulder and saw the Fire Island Lighthouse in the distance. Another fifteen
minutes and they'd be there. Her Ratboy was alive. He had to be. Didn't he?
"Alone at least, sweet, beautiful Alex."
"I'm thrilled, Kurt." Well, truthfully, part of him was thrilled. Funny, how
the body could respond no matter what the mind thought. And was his mind ever
occupied. He needed to get out of here, needed to find Feldman... Jesus, poor
Feldman. What if that bastard had her in his filthy hands?
"I'm very upset that you lied to me, Alex."
Quick, think of a useful lie that would satisfy a jealous, petulant Ken doll.
"I'm sorry, Kurt. Really. But Feldman's got some pull and I was supposed to
be looking out for her."
"Feldman? That is her name?" An amused chuckle erupted into a full-fledged
guffaw. "She is a Jew?! Surely you could have done better than that."
"Like you," Alex purred. Wow! Kurt was even more jealous than Feldman. That
made him much easier to manipulate. Especially since he was nowhere near as
smart.
"Exactly. Let us forget about the woman, Alex. Conrad gave me a permission to
indulge myself and I intend to." Kurt's large hand stroked his thigh,
possessively. "We have the rest of today to say our good-byes."
He had the rest of today to figure out how to get out of this mess. And with
Conrad gone, his odds of getting free just went up.
"Are you planning on walking up to the door and asking for Strughold, Feldman?"
Ellen swallowed hard and her finger stroked the 'call' button just outside the
main gate leading up to the huge property. This was her last lead. Alex had
to be here. Just had to be. She turned to Mulder. "What do you suggest?"
"I suggest we climb the fence and take a peek in those windows."
"But that's illegal, Mulder. Any evidence"
"You really think there'd be an arrest, Feldman? This guy's connected and I
don't think Krycek is gonna press charges." A quick, sly grin. "I'm sure
you'd try to convince him though, wouldn't you?"
"Damn skippy, I would." The fence was tall, spiked and ugly. All it needed
was some barbed wire. "How are we getting over that?"
"See that nice tree over there?"
"In my dress pumps?"
"You wanna dig a hole and go under?"
"This suit is Escada," she sniffed.
"And that means what?"
"Alex paid six hundred dollars for it."
"No wonder you want to rescue him so badly. You found yourself a one-armed
sugar daddy." He scaled the tree. "Come on, Feldman. I'm sure you can dry
clean that thing."
Tree climbing. She never climbed a tree in her life. Despite popular belief,
there actually were trees in Brooklyn, she just never had the urge to climb
one. Especially not in a designer suit.
"Are you coming?"
Oh, what the hell.
He had to hand it to Kurt. The dumb Kraut wasn't as dumb as he led everybody
to believe. Even as he tried to manipulate Kurt, Kurt manipulated him into...
Well, hell. He knew he was going to end up suspended from the ceiling
eventually and he had to admit, this sling was pretty damned comfortable.
"So, my pretty Alex, tell me, whom do you prefer, me or that woman?"
"Jealous, Kurt?"
"Of a woman? Could she do the things to you that I do?"
"You wouldn't believe some of the things she does, tovarisch." Maybe he
shouldn't have said that. Yes, he definitely should not have said that. Kurt
was reaching for one of the whips on the wall. A big, painful-looking one.
Yow! That would teach him to think before opening his mouth. "Kurt!"
"After all we had, you prefer a woman! A woman! You slut!"
"Aw, Kurtouch!you doouchgreat things for me, too."
"You know how I feel about women, Alex."
"How do you feel about me?"
"Sad that our time together is coming to an end."
"You could set me free and tell Conrad I escaped"
"I cannot lie to Conrad."
"So you'd let me die."
"What choice do I have, Alex? You were going to kill Conrad. I cannot allow
that to happen. Conrad makes my life possible. He indulges me in whatever I
want"
"Okay, okay, I get the point." Oh, Jeez. A German Ellen. Well, not really.
Ellen took the money and the gifts, but she'd be damned if she became dependent
on anybody.
"We shall make love one last time, Alex," Kurt decided, tossing the whip across
the room. It landed by the door. "I'm afraid I can't let you down, but I can
certainly please you. And myself."
One last time. Fair enough. And then he'd kill Kurt.
"Do you see anything?"
"No. The windows are all covered. Think the doors are locked?"
"Yes, Feldman. And alarmed, I believe."
Feldman frowned at him and turned her attention back to the alarm system.
"I think I can short circuit it."
"That sounds like a new skill," Mulder commented.
"Alex and I had some time on our hands so I asked him to teach me stuff. One
of the things he taught me was Breaking and Entering 101."
"Feldman"
"He likes showing me things, Mulder. You never showed me anything except those
lousy crop circles. You didn't even teach me how to break and clean a gun or
how to do a hit"
"Feldman!"
"Well, he did." Feldman reached into her handbag and pulled out a small black
leather case. Soft, supple leather that had the Coach logo and one of those
black keychain tags. Mulder was almost positive Coach didn't make those.
Almost. At least he'd never seen them during his trips to the Mazza Galleries.
"He even bought me my own set of tools."
And he felt sorry for her? Feldman looked like she was thriving on the
education Krycek was giving her. Maybe he should start feeling sorry for
Krycek...
"Mulder, look at this."
"What?"
"I think it's the ugliest sofa I've ever seen." Feldman pointed at the
burgundy velvet monstrosity with the clawed feet. "Can we arrest him for lack
of style?"
Mulder stared at her. Amazing how Feldman could morph from lawyer to
one-woman crime spree to complete JAP in less than a minute. "We have to find
him first. Since you insist on leading this mission, where do you want to
start? Upstairs or downstairs?"
"Basement. All the whackos keep their hostages in the basement."
"You sure about that?" Statistically, it was true, they did, but there was no
harm in letting her think for herself. Or finding out where she got her ideas
from.
"Positive. From Silence of the Lambs to Intensity, all the nutjobs used their
basements."
Why couldn't she read romance novels, like other women? "Okay, Feldman, let's
find the basement."
"Say my name, Alex."
"Kurt... oh, Jesus, Kurt... " This was the last time, he promised himself.
The very last time. God, it was going to be hard killing such a good lover but
he was going to have to because the Russians were coming. This Russian was
coming.
"Tell me you love me, Alex."
"What?!"
"You'll be dead soon, indulge me. Tell me you love me."
What a sick bastard. But if he had to do it to con his way out of this...
"I love you, too, my sweet, Alex."
Ellen heard it but she couldn't believe it. She saw it with her own eyes and
still couldn't believe it. Some big blond muscle-bound clod was fucking her
Ratboy. And her Ratboy liked it. Enough to exchange 'I love you, honeys'.
She was going to kill him for this. After she taught the Nazi a lesson.
"Feldman?" Mulder rested a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe you want to leave him
"
"The hell I do," she hissed. "Gimme my gun, Mulder. Now."
"So you can kill which one?"
"Just give it to me!"
"No."
"Fine, I'll do it without a gun." She took a step forward and nearly tripped
over the whip that lay in the doorway. Ellen picked it up and a plan quickly
formed.
"You! Nazi Ken-doll! Stop mowing my lawn!"
The brawny German faced her, armed only with a large, glistening erection.
"What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?"
"The name is Feldman. Jew. Lawyer. Bitch." With that she cracked the whip,
catching the man on the leg.
He howled as a large red welt formed.
Feldman snapped the whip again.
Mulder winced and sidled past to where Krycek was dangling. "How's it hanging,
Krycek?"
"Very funny, Mulder."
"Actually, it is. Feldman's whipping the heck out of your friend." His eyes
wandered over the bruised, beaten body hanging in front of him, pausing at
Krycek's rather large hard-on. How the hell he managed to fit that into
Feldman was an X-File.
There was a loud moan and another crack of the whip.
Mulder turned in time to see the large German come, spraying his load all over
the front of Feldman's suit and pass out on the floor, a blissful smile on his
face. Feldman did not look happy as she viciously kicked the unconscious man
in the kidneys. He supposed the scuff marks on the shoes didn't matter much if
the suit was ruined. "Feldman is not a happy camper right now."
"C'mon, Mulder, let me down." The triple agent glanced over his shoulder, saw
the approaching pissed-off lawyer and gave Mulder a pathetic look. "Please?"
"Sorry, friend. Male solidarity extends just so far." Mulder backed away as
Feldman came closer and leaned back against the wall to watch the rest of the
show. This was going to be good.
Feldman stared up at Krycek, the whip dragging behind her like a tail. "Jesus.
You look like a leather-clad pinata. What's that thingie supposed to be?"
"It's a cockstrap, Feldman." Mulder could see that Krycek was doing his
damnedest to be patient. "Are you going to let me down?"
"I'm thinking about it. Your Nazi buddy made a huge come stain on my new
suit."
"Let me down and I'll buy you a new one."
"I thought the old guy had you, Alex," Feldman complained. "Who the hell is
the Ken doll and why did he say he loves you? I'm not going to be made a fool
of"
"I'm not making a fool of you, kitten"
Did Krycek just call Feldman 'kitten'?
"Don't call me 'kitten', Rentboy!"
Yup, he did. Mulder was barely able to suppress a laugh.
"Kurt's an old acquaintance, Feldman. He works with the old guy"
"Acquaintance my asssorry, your ass."
"Okay, he's an old lover. Jesus, Feldman, don't be such a little bitch." For
a man in his position, Krycek should have been choosing his words more
carefully, Mulder thought.
"Not so old, Alex, if you told him you love him."
"I was trying to get out of this, Feldman."
"You didn't look like you were doing anything except getting off!"
"Come on, Feldman, I'm all bruised. Are you going to leave me hanging here?"
Feldman traced a bruise with her finger and then dropped the whip on the floor.
"How do I get you down?"
"The chain over there," Mulder put in, pointing. "Unhook it and lower away."
"Thanks, Mulder," Krycek said, gratefully.
This was going to be good. Could 92 pounds gently lower almost two hundred?
Not likely. Krycek landed on the cement floor with a crash and a string of
curses in at least three languages.
"You did that on purpose, Feldman!"
"Maybe if you lost some weight"
"Don't start with me!" Krycek freed himself from the chains and got up on
shaky legs. "If you weren't such a pain in the ass about my work I wouldn't
have ended up in this mess!"
"If you weren't chasing men"
"Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two from them"
"Listen, Krycek, if you want something shoved up your ass, I've got a tire iron
in the trunk of my car and I'd be happy to shove it in curved side first!"
It was starting to get a little ugly, Mulder decided, resting his palm on his
gun as Krycek's hand curled into a fist. If he swung at Feldman...
"Feldman."
"Krycek."
"Feldman... "
"Ratboy... "
"C'mere, Feldman." Krycek grabbed her by the lapels of her suit and brought
his lips down on hers. Hard. And he started grinding against her. Feldman's
hands went right to Krycek's ass, encouraging him.
Mulder was going to be sick.
Ellen released Krycek finally and looked down at the front of her suit,
noticing the second stain for the first time. "Oh man! This suit is totally
ruined. Thanks a lot, Alex."
"I'm sure protein comes out of silk, Feldman."
"It doesn't matter. I tore it climbing the tree anyway."
"You climbed a tree?"
"Don't ask," Mulder put in. "She complained the entire time. Not that I blame
her, being in her condition and all."
Oh. Shit. Ellen could feel the blood drain from her face. "Mulder"
"What condition is that, Mulder," Krycek asked, warily.
"She's"
"I'm fi"
"pregnant." Mulder grinned down at her as he cheerfully hung her with the
biggest lie she told him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Feldman. Did you want to break the
news yourself?"
"You're pregnant? Really? How far along are you, kitten?"
"She's six weeks along."
Ellen glared at Mulder. "Mulder"
"She's even picked out a name for your son, Krycek. Avi."
"Avi," Krycek echoed. "Avi Krycek? Maybe as a middle name, but I want my boy
to be named Sasha."
"Alex, could I speak to you in private for a second." If she could find one
of those S&M gags around here, maybe she could shove it in Mulder's mouth...
Part Seven
Verdammt little Jew bitch, Kurt thought, bitterly. Pregnant with his Alex's
child. How could he hope to compete with that? Even if she wasn't pregnant,
the Feldman bitch was hell with a whipno woman had ever been able to whip
him to orgasm before and no man had ever made him come quite this hard. Not
even Conrad. Not even Alex.
For the first time in years, Kurt pondered the possibility of having a sexual
encounter with a woman. Of course, he would have to get his Alex to forgive
him first. And there was the little matter of the woman hating him. Oh, but
her hatred made him excited. He was going to have fantasies about her whipping
him for a long, long time.
Right now, though, he needed to get out of here. Three against one was
horrible odds and that evil little woman would probably try to break his nose
again. Thank heaven she had tiny, little feet and the heel mark in his
forehead most likely was not that noticeable.
Kurt got to his feet and backed slowly towards the door.
Crash!
Startled, he turned to lock eyes with the handsome man the bitch brought with
her.
"Going somewhere?" The man reached for his gun.
"Ja. Anywhere but here." Before the man could get to his gun, Kurt punched
him in the jaw and the man crumpled to the floor with a thud. As he expected.
Weak, American jaw. Still, the man was attractive. That sexy mole and lower
lip... He couldn't help himself as he stole a kiss and groped the man's
crotch. Ah, well-hung. A pity there was no time to get better acquainted.
"Farewell," Kurt whispered.
"I'm not pregnant, Alex."
Krycek ignored her and stroked her belly lovingly. "Sasha. My little Sasha...
"
"I said I'M NOT PREGNANT!" God! One itsy bitsy lie and look what she got
herself into. "There's no Sasha. There's no Avi. And would you stop feeling
me up already?!"
"Of course, you're pregnant, Feldman." His fingers roamed upwards, cupping a
breast. "You're getting bigger in all the right places."
"That's because I've got PMS."
"You're hormonal, that's for sure."
"Listen to me very carefully." Why wasn't he wearing an article of clothing
she could grab? Well, there was some chest hair. Krycek yelped as she grabbed
a small handful. "I'm not pregnant. There is no baby. It's a lie I told
Mulder to get him to come with me. Understand?"
He pried her fingers loose and favored her with an admiring smile. "You
devious little witch. You're good. Really good. I'm proud of you. I'd just
like to know how you figured out I was in trouble."
Ellen thought fast. There had to be a way to get his mind off that question.
Ah, yes. Good idea. She traced a path from his chest downwards with a finger
and looked up at him with her famous, never-fail Bambi eyes. "I got lonely,
honey, so I went by your place and you weren't there"
"So you decided to come looking for me?"
Did he believe her? She couldn't quite tell. "Uh-huh... "
"That's veryJesus, Mulder! What the hell happened to you?"
Mulder was rubbing his jaw. "Your boyfriend packs one hell of a punch,
Krycek."
"Don't tell me he got away," Ellen complained.
"He got away." The federal agent glared at the two of them. "And we've missed
the last ferry out of here."
"Out of where," Krycek asked. "Where the hell am I?"
Mulder grinned at him. "Appropriately enough, you're on Fire Island and it
looks like we're stuck here for the night."
"No way, Mulder! I'm not staying at Casa de Concentration Camp," Ellen
sniffed. "I know a good bed and breakfast"
"We have to get out of here," Krycek said, grabbing her arm. "The Russians are
coming."
Ellen stared up at him. "Excuse me?"
Krycek released her and gestured to the various marks on his body. "This
wasn't a date, kitten. They were giving me to the Russians"
Mulder chuckled softly. "Justice finally catching up with you for what you did
to those prisoners in Tunguska, Krycek?"
What were they talking about? Ellen looked from one to the other, hoping for a
clue.
"They don't care about the prisoners. They're pissed because I stole the
vaccine and a kid who saw the alien rebel." Krycek grabbed her arm again.
"And right now, Mulder, we don't have the time to talk about it."
Ellen jerked free. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Ricky."
"Later, Feldman. Right now, we need to find clothes and weapons because if the
Russians don't find me here, you can bet they're going to go looking for me."
She tugged at Mulder's sleeve. "Hey, Mulder, I promised you Russians, didn't
I? Maybe the Serbs'll show up with the biotoxin and we can have a party."
"Why me," Mulder and Krycek said in unison.
Useless. Both of them. Not that it mattered. Let the Russians come. She'd
already beaten the Nazis today. Nobody was going to take her Ratboy without
her permission.
"Excuse me. How would I be finding Nesconset Place?"
The young, trendy man tossed his head, flipping back his long, obviously dyed
blond hair. "Whoa. I don't think they let Plymouth Reliants in that area,
man."
"Excuse me?" Yuri was confused. He exchanged stares with his partner, Wojtek,
who shrugged, equally confused.
"The K-car, dude. I'm surprised they even let you on the island with it."
With that, the man walked away, muttering something about the standards here
going completely to hell.
Wojtek rolled his eyes. "I can't wait to get back to St. Petersburg."
"I'm sure Krycek can't wait, either."
The two men shared a long laugh as Wojtek unfurled the Western Suffolk county
street atlas to search once more for their destination.
Feldman, Krycek and Mulder all stared at the bed. It was a prim, queen-sized
affair, with a fluffy pile of pillows. Mulder grabbed one of the pillows and
headed for the bathroom. He came back a second later, cursing under his
breath.
"Damned tub's too small."
"I guess it's the chair for you then, Mulder." Krycek dropped down onto the
bed with a long, exhausted yawn. Nice to be in a bed again. Even nicer if
Feldman would join him.
Gingerly, Feldman unlaced the too-big shoes he was wearing and set them down.
Her hands went to the Hilfiger oxford and began undoing the buttons.
"Leave it, kitten." He pushed her hands away.
"You sure you want to wrinkle your only clean clothes?"
A weary sigh and then Krycek slipped out of the shirt, handing it to her.
"I'll leave the pants on so Mulder doesn't blush."
"How thoughtful of you." Mulder slumped back in the chair and closed his eyes
again.
"Can I get you anything, Alex? Water, maybe?"
"Just lemme sleep for a while," he murmured into the pillow. Finally. She was
calling him Alex. That was nice. Now, if he could get her to stop fretting
over him...
"Mind if I take a shower? I feel kind of grungy after climbing trees and
fighting that Ken doll."
"Go ahead." He listened to the sound of the bathroom door shutting and locking
and then running water. Finally. Peace and quiet. Peace and... Jesus, he
could feel Mulder watching him. What the hell was he looking at? "Quit
staring at me, Mulder."
"I'm wondering what the hell she sees in you, Krycek."
"Join the club."
"Just get one thing straight, I didn't do this for you. I did this for her.
She showed up on my doorstep with some kind of wild story about Russians, Serbs
and biotoxins." There was a sound as the older man shifted in his chair. "You
should be more careful with your files. She had some interesting photos that
she was using to bolster her argument."
Biotoxins? He hadn't done anything with biotoxins in a long time. Where the
hell would Feldman have gotten hold of that? "Thanks for the advice, dad."
A sigh. "I helped her this one time, Krycek. After this, you're on your own.
I don't care how much she says she loves you or if she really is pregnant, I'm
not saving your sorry ass again after all the crap you've pulled."
She said she loved him? How could she tell Mulder that and not him? She loved
him. Yeah, he kind of had the feeling she did, but it would have been nice if
he was the first to know, not Mulder. "She's not pregnant."
"I figured that out for myself."
"Look, Mulder... "
"I don't want her coming to me with black eyes or broken bones, either. I saw
you, Krycek. You came damned close to hitting her."
"I won't hit her, Mulder. Unlike you." The sanctimonious bastard. "I take
care of Feldman"
"So I've heard."
"I don't mean the clothes or the money. I mean the vaccine and the
protection."
"You call that protection? You dragged her right into the middle"
"You think she wouldn't have ended up there? They were saving her until they
needed her again. I'm making sure she doesn't end up with somebody who really
would abuse her. Like my German friends, for example."
"Speaking of which"
"Let's not. I don't need your sympathy or your head games. It's done."
"Like your arm?"
"Mulder"
Just then the bathroom door opened and Feldman came out, wrapped in a towel.
She glanced at Mulder and then at Krycek. "Mulder, you should let Alex get
some rest."
"Yeah, Mulder, let me get some rest." He watched her slip under the covers
next to him and sighed contentedly as she rested her head on his chest.
Feldman loved him. Now all he had to do was get her to tell him.
"This is hopeless," Wojtek complained.
"No it isn't. We found the house." Yuri consulted the map again.
"Unfortunately, it was empty. The Germans were nowhere to be found. So much
for their legendary efficiency."
Just then a Suffolk County police cruiser came up behind them, flashing its
lights.
"The police?"
"Yes. What do you suppose they want," Yuri wondered, pulling over.
A burly Suffolk County cop swaggered up to the car, hands on his gun and
nightstick. "You two boys look lost. Where are you headed?"
The two Russians exchanged startled glances and then Yuri ventured an answer.
"We're not sure."
"Do you have reservations somewhere?"
"No."
A weary sigh. "License and registration please."
"Why?"
"Because this is Fire Island and we can't have K cars driving all over the
place, that's why." The cop rolled his eyes behind mirrored glasses. If they
thought Fire Island was bad, they should have tried this in the Hamptons...
Ellen rolled over and reached for her Ratboy. Instead, all she got was a
handful of his empty chinos. With a frown, she sat up, put on her glasses and
looked around the dark room. Mulder was slumped in the chair, sleeping
peacefully, well, as peaceful as he could get. So where was her... oh, never
mind. He was in the shower.
Did he really tell that Nazi Ken that he loved him? She thought that was what
she heard. And Nazi-boy said, I love you, too. Hung like a horse, Nazi-boy
was. How could she compete with that, if that was what her Ratboy really
liked? But if that was love, why the hell was he going to give her Ratboy to
the Russians? And what was with the pinata thing? What was it Alex said? Oh
yeah. [This wasn't a date, Feldman.] Did that mean... could somebody really
have... to her Ratboy?
She slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom door. Locked. Well, that
wasn't going to stop her. Her Ratboy gave her a whole set of picks and these
cheap-ass motel locks were easy. A quick dive into her purse, yeah, that
was the right pick... bingo.
Wow. Look at all the steam. How hot was that water? She closed the door,
quietly, and slipped past the shower curtain. Yow. Very, very hot water.
Scalding, almost.
Krycek looked down at her slowly, his face blank and his green eyes focused on
some point past her.
She knew that look. That was her, once upon a time. A little over four years
ago, to be exact.
No hesitation. Ellen threw her arms around him and held him tight, feeling him
tense at the contact. Of course he didn't want her sympathy. And she wasn't
going to make him think he was getting it, either. Even if he really was.
"I had a bad dream," she murmured into his chest. "Hold me?"
And he did.
Kurt was miserable. Well, he supposed it would have been worse if he hadn't
found his way to that really awesome party last night and hooked up with that
cute accountant. Larry... Barry... oh, who cared. The point was,
Larry/Barry, the accountant was about his size and had a pretty decent
wardrobe. For an accountant, that was. The sex, unfortunately, was boring
with a capital B.
Heaven knew, Kurt tried to spice things up with Barry, yes that was the
man's name, using Barry's belt, but Barry started whining and crying and then
Kurt had to shut him up and accidentally snapped Barry's neck. Conrad was
going to be so upset about that. Resources were going to have to be used to
hush up any investigations that might result. Of course, Conrad was going to
be even more upset that Alex got away.
Yeah, Conrad would definitely be pissed about that.
Especially when Kurt had to explain who helped Alex get away. And how she
did it. Maybe he should leave out the part about that tremendous orgasm.
Kurt winced as he sniffed Barry's bottle of Drakkar. How horribly out of
fashion. Speaking of out of fashion... he'd forgotten all about the Russians.
Oh, they were sure to be upset. Furious, even. Not as furious as Conrad was
going to be, because the Russians were sure to want their money back and Conrad
was very, very tight with a buck.
Yuri and Wojtek were miserable. An entire night spent in the holding cell
on Fire Island was not a pleasant experience. Well, it was more pleasant than
a Russian gulag or a prison in Europe and the guard had the radio tuned to a
station called WLIR which was playing some of Yuri's favorite songs. How he
adored hearing the Fine Young Cannibals.
"The first ferry leaves at nine," the burly cop told him, speaking slowly
and loudly, as if Yuri was deaf. Sergeant O'Brien had been doing that all
night, even though Yuri understood English perfectly well and spoke it better
than O'Brien. "You're going to be on that boat, understand?"
"Yes."
"And next time, you come back in a car from this decade, yes?"
"Yes."
"And you wear a natural fabric. This is Fire Island. We don't allow
synthetic JC Penney stuff here."
Wojtek nudged him and spoke in Russian. "I thought America did not have a
dress code."
"Hey, Wojo—whatever the heck your name is," O'Brien snapped, "You're in
America, you speak English, got it?"
Wojtek got it. He wasn't sure he wanted it, but he got it. "What should we
wear, then, officer?"
O'Brien sighed and looked them over. "You guys aren't cool enough for
Hilfiger. I say you should stick with Ralph Lauren or LaCoste."
The two Russian agents stared at each other as O'Brien went back to his desk,
flipped through his Rolodex and nodded at them. "I'm going to do you poor
little ex-Commies a favor. My girlfriend works in Bloomingdale's at the
Roosevelt Field Mall. She'll set you up with the right clothes. And when
she's done, I'll get you reservations out here."
There was a quick, heated exchange in Russian.
"Officer, we never want to come back here."
Mulder was miserable. He had to go to the bathroom. Bad. But he didn't dare
move because of Krycek and Feldman. Those two were going to be the death of
him. Did either one of them have a shred of self-control? Of course not. He
was beginning to think they really deserved each other.
There was a muted giggle from beneath the covers. Feldman.
The groan was Krycek.
And there was no need to guess what they were doing, considering how the bed
springs were squeaking. Even if the bed wasn't squeaking, he'd know. It
wasn't that far from the chair to the bed and he could smell Feldman, could
hear the wet sounds of Krycek using his fingers on her and could hear her
trying not to scream.
Whimpers now. Jeez. More grunts from Krycek.
A breathless whisper. "Ohhhhh, Ratboy... "
"Moi krasivya shalava... "
Mulder winced. If he was right, Krycek just called Feldman his beautiful
little slut.
Another giggle.
A long grunt from Krycek told Mulder that they were just about done.
Finally. He'd give them a minute and then... No! No! Not fair! Feldman
was slipping out of the bed, stark naked, no less, and into the bathroom. He
knew Feldman. She liked a shower after her morning wake-up. A long shower.
And Mulder's teeth were starting to float.
Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Krycek sat up and regarded him with an amused smirk. "You okay, Mulder?"
Oh. Shit. The bastard knew he'd been awake while they... Aw, geez. "Fine."
"You don't look fine. You look... frustrated."
"I said I'm fine."
A slow, evil grin crossed Krycek's face. "You'd be a lot better if you'd
have joined us, Mulder. I'm sure Feldman wouldn't have complained. Neither
would I."
That was it. There had to be another bathroom here. If not, there were some
really nice bushes up the road.
Part Eight
"For somebody who isn't pregnant, you're sure eating like you were."
Feldman's fork hovered over Krycek's home fries and her brown eyes stared into
his. Uh-oh, the kitten had PMS. He'd make sure to warn Mulder if Mulder
didn't recognize the warning signs.
Krycek slid his plate to her, staring wistfully at the rest of his
breakfast. Sausage links never tasted so good. Especially after eating
kibble.
Mulder arched an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you hungry?"
"Starved."
"Jeez," Feldman growled. She reached over, grabbed Mulder's plate and slammed
it down in front of Krycek. "Eat his."
The two men exchanged nervous glances.
"I said eat it, Alex!"
Krycek winced. In the early days of their courtship, back when he had to take
her hostage when he tried to woo her, she'd take that tone with him. And then
she'd beat him senseless. "Um... kitten, I think Mulder might want to eat his
"
"Mulder's gonna puke it up on the ferry anyway." Feldman's eyes locked with
his again and then wandered to the food on Mulder's plate. "Are you gonna eat
that piece of melon?"
Did he dare say he wanted that melon more than life itself? That he would
gladly kill Mulder for that piece of melon? No. God help him.
God help them all.
What had he done to deserve this?
Oh, that's right. He was in love with Ellen Feldman.
"I can't watch this," Feldman declared, as Mulder leaned over the railing and
hurled the rest of his breakfast. "I had to watch it on the way here and I
don't want to watch it now."
Krycek patted her shoulder. "Why don't you take a walk, kitten? I'll stay
with him and make sure he doesn't fall overboard."
"Gee, thanks," Mulder croaked. He was a shade of green that reminded Alex of
Kermit the Frog on a bad day. "Nothing I like more than being baby-sat by a
wanted felon."
Feldman grabbed Mulder by his lapels. "Don't call my Ratboy a felon! He's not
a felon! He can't be because he hasn't been convicted of anything! He hasn't
even been indicted or arrested! Ratboy is a fugitive! God, how can you know
everything there is to know about stupid crop circles and little gray men, but
when it comes to enforcing the law, like my tax dollars pay you to do, and you
get paid way too much, in my opinion, considering you never arrest"
"Feldman!" Krycek clamped his hand over her mouth before she goaded Mulder
into upping his arrest rate, starting with Alex Krycek. "How about taking that
walk now? Mulder looks like he's about to toss his cookies again."
Mulder caught the cue and leaned over the railing.
"Ewww, I'm outta here." She stomped off.
Krycek sighed and waited until Feldman was out of earshot. "Bet you don't miss
that, do you?"
"Feldman with PMS? Not by a long shot." The federal agent turned around and
managed a shaky grin. "Of course, you usually found yourself on the receiving
end most of the time anyway."
"I've got the scars to prove it." He returned the grin. Damned if this didn't
remind him of their early days together as partners. At least he didn't have
to suck up to Mulder. "Actually, I did some research and found an herb that
quiets her down. Dong Kwai. Last month, I would never have known she had PMS
if she didn't complain about her boobs hurting when I"
"Can we not talk about Feldman's anatomy or what you do with it?"
Now here was something that he could do to pass the time. He could needle
Mulder. "You still like her, don't you?"
Mulder winced. "Like? I think the right word is fear."
"You know she still finds you attractive, don't you?"
"Krycek, please, my stomach... "
"I don't mind. If she wants to play with you, that's fine. Even better if it
can be all three of us"
"Oh God!!!!" Mulder turned just in time and threw up violently.
The one-armed man stifled a chuckle. Wait til he suggested taping it for
Scully...
Kurt sat back and sipped at his Starbuck's frappucino, marveling once more at
how he could be tricked into paying almost five dollars for half a cup of froth
and half a cup of sludge. Still, it was sludge that tasted pretty good. In
just another forty minutes, he'd be on land, on the Long Island Railroad and on
his way to Conrad. Well, maybe he ought to stop at the apartment and pick up
some nattier clothes than these.
Another sip of the frappy and Kurt sighed contentedly, thinking of how nice it
would be to squirt himself liberally with Chaos for Men and check out the male
flight attendants.
Suddenly, he saw her.
That Feldman woman. And look at the scowl on her face.
He. Had. To. Have. Her.
Now.
Yuri was going to be violently ill. Forget going to be, he was violently ill.
Barely made it to the rails in time to throw up the Eggs Benedict that O'Brien
cheerfully served them for breakfast.
Wojtek followed his partner and tried to ignore the sounds of a stomach in
distress. If he didn't, he'd be puking, too. Instead, Wojtek forced himself
to look at the people on deck. So many beautiful women. So many obvious
plastic surgeries. So much Clairol number 43 that the golden glow made his
retinas ache.
There, among the crowd, finally was someone with dark hair. Green eyes. One
arm.
"Yuri!"
"Bleeeeeaaaaaaah!"
He would take that as a 'what'. "Krycek."
"Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Okay, that could be interpreted as 'where', couldn't it? "On the other side
of the deck. Talking to some skinny man who is about the same color green as
you."
"Bleeeeeeeahhh."
"Okay, okay, five minutes. I don't think he's going anywhere, either."
"You are the first woman I have ever been interested in."
The voice was soft, had an accent like a Volkswagen commercial and whispered
into her ear. Ellen had a sinking feeling she knew who it was. What kind of a
world was this where she couldn't even make a pit stop in peace?
Her hand dropped to her purse, to the pocket where she kept her mace. Useful
thing, mace, and her Ratboy made sure to buy her a container of the strongest
one on the market. She'd make sure to thank him properly later. If she made
it out of the bathroom alive, that was.
A beefy hand grabbed her by the arm and spun her around and Ellen found herself
staring up at"Ken!"
"Kurt, liebling, my name is Kurt."
Her eyes traveled up the wall of solid muscle in front of her. Getting out of
this one was going to take some doing. "What a big boy you are, Dirt."
"Kurt."
"Kurt." Ellen peeked past him, to the bathroom door. Two person occupancy and
locked from the inside. Which meant if she wanted to get out of here, she had
to go through Dirt or trick him into letting her out. "Gee, fancy meeting you
in the ladies' room."
"I followed you here."
No kidding. Boy, Kurt might be a looker, but what a ditzy blond he was! Maybe
he wasn't even really a blond. At least he didn't like girls. On the other
hand, he liked her Ratboy. Liked her Ratboy way, way too much. And maybe she
ought to teach him a lesson. Yeah. She'd teach Dirt a lesson he'd never
forget.
"Yeah, Mulder, I think it could be a lot of fun. You, me, Scully, Feldman. We
get Carmine to do the taping, Skinner to direct and"
"Stop it, please," Mulder croaked, weakly. On the other hand, the idea of
watching Scully and Feldman together wasn't that nauseating. Hell, he might
even pay to see that one. The federal agent took a deep breath and scanned
the crowd. "Krycek."
"What?"
"Very slowly, turn around and look directly across from us and tell me if you
recognize those two men. You'll know who I'm talking about. They're the only
ones that don't look like they stepped out of a magazine."
Krycek ran his hand through his hair and turned. "Yuri Kotlyarsky and Wojtek
Szmarnsczyk. Ex-KGB. Not the brightest pair in the world but they get the
job done."
"How much are you worth to them?"
"I think it's up to half a million. Why?"
"The FBI pension isn't what it used to be, Krycek."
The one-armed fugitive's head pivoted. "Need I remind you that Feldman has
PMS, Mulder? All I have to do is tell her you said that and you're toast."
"Speaking of Feldman, where is she?"
"You can let go of me now, Dirt."
"Kurt."
Ellen rolled her eyes. How many times had she called this shmendrik Dirt and
how many times had he corrected her? Didn't he realize it was intentional?
"Whatever. Just let go already."
"I will let go of you when we get there, schosskinder." The iron grip on her
arm grew even tighter as the giant German steered her through the parked cars.
Amazing how people couldn't go away for the weekend without their cars.
Ellen found herself marveling at the vehicles. Not one cost less than $40,000,
with the exception of that rusty 1987 Plymouth Reliant over there. "Hey,
Kurt!"
"Yes, my darling."
Ewwww. "How about that one? The maroon one?"
Kurt's nose wrinkled. "It's disgusting."
"It doesn't have an alarm."
"How do you know?"
"Because the average alarm system costs about seven hundred bucks. That car is
only worth four hundred. You do the rest of the arithmetic." If you can, she
added silently.
Kurt stopped, gripped both of her arms in his hands and lifted her so that they
were eye level. "Don't think I've forgotten that trick you pulled in the
bathroom, liebling."
That trick. Ellen fought hard not to giggle as she stared into those
impossibly blue, impossibly vacant eyes. All she did was point past him,
shout, 'Oh my God' and he turned around to look, which gave her the chance to
dig out her trusty can of mace. Not so trusty, as it turned out. Her Ratboy
gave her a defective can of mace. And she was left squirting air at Kurt.
The big man actually roared as he yanked the cannister from her hand and
crushed it like a potato chip. If it wasn't for the fact that she had really
awful PMS, she'd have been scared spitless. "Kurty, if you crush my arms, I
won't be able to break into the car."
He set her down, eyeing her warily. "This car is hideous."
"Look, you want me to spank and degrade you, right?"
"Yes."
"Where better than in a K car?"
"Can you really open the doors?"
Ellen rolled her eyes again. "I can if you let me go already, you moron."
Kurt lowered her and eyed her warily. "No tricks."
"You're four times my size, gargantua. How much damage can I do to you?"
Plenty. Wait til he saw what she could do. A quick look confirmed that she
didn't even have to pick the lock. The doors were open. She tugged at the
handle and opened the driver's side. "Step into my office."
"I've rescued you once this week, Krycek. Think you can handle this by
yourself?" Mulder's hands gripped the railing even tighter as he added,
"Discreetly."
Krycek favored him with a toothy, feral grin. "Those two? Easy enough. All I
have to do is shout 'designer knockoff' and the fashion police will be on them
in seconds."
"That's a Feldman tactic. Next you'll be complaining about your nails."
"Have you ever seen a Feldman tactic fail? We could learn a few things from
her."
"It would be nice if she knew what the hell she was doing."
"Well, there is that," Krycek agreed.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing," Kurt asked, doubtfully.
"Look, Dirt, you're the one who wanted make-out music."
"Kurt."
"Whatever." Ellen clenched her teeth and continued to hot wire the car. Sure
he wanted make-out music. All she had to do was suggest it and the big moron
agreed with her. Suddenly, the engine sputtered and roared to life. Hot
damn! "See? Told you I knew what I was doing."
The big man nodded appreciatively.
They stared at each other.
Wow, her throat was dry. "Wanna see what's on the radio?"
"Yes! Good idea."
Ellen flipped the switch. Static. Lots of static. And then... "WHTZ! Home
of the world-famous Z-Morning Zoo"
"I hate this station."
"It's the only one we can get."
"I hate this song."
She hated Celine Dion's Titanic song, too. "It'll be over eventually."
"What do we do now?"
Was he nuts? He was the one chasing after her, telling her he wanted her to
beat him again andNever mind. "Take off your clothes, Gunther, I wanna
get a good look at you."
"Kurt. My name is Kurt."
And stupid thing that he was, he started stripping. Ellen leaned back in
the driver's seat and thought fast. If she hit the horn, would somebody come
before Kurt crushed her like a bug? Not likely, which is why she never trusted
anybody to rescue her. Even her Ratboy.
"Now what?"
Ellen frowned. For somebody who was supposedly excited by her, Dirt was kind
of limp. Large. But limp, nonetheless. "That's not real, is it?"
Kurt flushed crimson. "Conrad paid to have it lengthened."
"That must've hurt like the dickens."
"Ja."
"Does it still work?"
"Of course it works, liebchen. Did I not demonstrate for you?"
"Show me again." She waited for him to start getting busy with himself and
when he was thoroughly engrossed by his own body, Ellen put the car in 'drive'.
That got Kurt's attention. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?"
"You can't do that!"
Kurt lunged for her and Ellen shrieked as her high heeled pump got wedged
between the floorboard and the gas pedal. The ancient Reliant was surprisingly
spry and roared forward, crashing through the hull of the ferry and landing
with an unceremonious 'sploosh' in the Atlantic.
"What was that?!"
Yuri leaned over the railing for the first time in ten minutes without
vomiting. "It's our car!"
"What?!" Wojtek pushed his partner aside. "How are we going to get back to
Brighton Beach?"
There was a soft chuckle behind them. "Looks like you'll have to swim."
With that, Alex Krycek gave Yuri a violent shove that sent him over the railing
into the water, where he landed with a 'splish' next to the Reliant.
Wojtek reached for his gun. Unfortunately, the gun was still in the Fire
Island police station, where it had been confiscated because neither of them
had a permit to carry.
Krycek sighed and gestured to the railing. "You want to jump or should I throw
you?"
"You're under arrest, Alexei"
"Alexander. I'm American." Krycek moved with lightning speed, catching Wojtek
in the tenderest of tender spots and threw the gasping man into the water.
Wojtek landed with a 'thunk' as he bounced off the hood of the Reliant.
"I said discreetly, not like a bad episode of Batman," Mulder said.
Krycek fought the urge to roll his eyes and call Mulder a dumbass. "In case
you haven't noticed, Mulder, this bucket has a huge hole in it."
"I'm surprised the crew hasn't said anything."
"Why don't you take charge?"
"And have to explain this to Skinner?"
Just then, shrieking not unlike a chihuahua's bark got their attention.
Part Nine
"Help me! I can't swim!"
Shit! Mulder couldn't believe it. Actually, he could believe it. Of course
it would be Feldman who drove the Reliant through the hull of the ferry. And
of course she couldn't swim. He shucked off his jacket, handed Krycek his
shoulder holster, only afterwards thinking he might regret doing that, and
dived into the water, narrowly missing both Yuri and Wojtek.
"Get me out of here!" Feldman was hanging onto the sinking Reliant for dear
life.
"Let go of the car, Feldman."
"But this water is gross! You puked in it!"
"It's an ocean, Feldman. It's gone."
"No, it's not! Look! There's"
"Feldman!" Why was he doing this again? Did it even matter anymore?
Doggedly, the weary federal agent swam to the shivering lawyer and grabbed her
by her skirt, yanking her into the water while she emitted a high pitched
squeal.
"My glasses!"
"Don't worry, I'm sure Ratboy will buy you a new pair."
"Don't call him Ratboy, you jerk!"
"Want me to let go of you?"
"Mulder, what about Kurt?"
"Who?" Why couldn't one thing with Feldman ever be easy? Why?
"That Nazi guy! That's how I crashed the car. Kurt wanted me to spank him and
"
"Feldman, that's way too much information."
The petite lawyer sneezed miserably. "Mulder?"
"Yes, Feldman?"
"The ferry is sinking."
"Yes, Feldman." And he was going to have to come up with yet another
reasonable explanation of how he happened to be here for Skinner.
Epilogue One
The smoker finished reading the report, closed the file and looked across the
table at the petite lawyer, who was finishing the last of her pasta primavera.
"It would have been nice if you could have recovered Mr. Krycek without sinking
a ship."
Feldman wiped at her lips. "It would've been nice if my wardrobe hadn't gotten
ruined in the process, either, smokey, but it did. I also swam in puke-filled
waters, lost a pair of glasses and had killer PMS"
"Feldman." He held up a hand. "Enough."
"Anyhow, I rescued my Ratbuh, my Alex."
"Yes, you did. Not bad for a novice." He crushed his cigarette and looked at
her, thoughtfully. If her report could be believed, Mulder accompanied her,
but didn't do much, other than fish her out of the water and whine. It was
one of the most cogent reports he'd seen in a while. Perhaps he'd recruit her
to draft some documents in the future. In the meantime... he lifted a small
stack of folders. "Please review these potential assignments for Mr. Krycek.
I need an answer by this time tomorrow."
"Yes, sir." Feldman licked her lips, slowly, almost seductively as she took
the folders. A pity he knew better than to be interested in her sexually.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Feldman?"
"What's going to happen to Strughold?"
"That doesn't concern you."
"But, sir"
"Feldman. Go home to Mr. Krycek. I'm sure he'd like to see you."
"But"
"It's not open to discussion, Feldman. Don't test my patience."
Feldman's mouth twitched. Then she stood up, tucked the files under her arm
and grabbed her purse. "You're going to beep me tomorrow, right?"
"Yes."
Without another word, she turned and left the restaurant, leaving him to admire
the view as she left. Krycek was right. He should have recruited her years
ago.
Epilogue Two
Krycek shifted in his seat as the smoker finished the report.
"A simple operation, Alex. You were supposed to eliminate Strughold and von
Rumohr. Instead, you eliminated the Fire Island ferry."
"Strughold made some kind of a deal with the Russians." Alex's accusation was
silent. The agreement he made when he rejoined the fold was that the Russians
would be kept at bay. "And it was Feldman who took out the ferry."
"I thought we agreed she wasn't going to be more than an indulgence, Alex."
Was the old bastard joking? It seemed like it. Almost. Except he wasn't in
on the joke. "She did save my life, sir."
"Yes, and she brought Mulder in, made a nuisance of herself at the German
embassy and destroyed an expensive piece of public transportation. Perhaps you
might teach her the value of subtlety."
Should he ask about the biotoxin photos? Nah, there was no way he'd get a
straight answer. Better to get it out of Feldman. In bed. Yeah, that was a
plan.
The smoker cleared his throat.
"Would you like me to make another attempt on Strughold, sir?"
"No. Not now."
In the future. That much was understood. And he was looking forward to it.
Epilogue Three
Kurt hung his head and did his best to look miserable as Conrad read him the
riot act. He found himself thinking of Fraulein Feldman and the whip again.
"... had to give back the money... "
How lucky Alex was to have a woman who was so good with a whip.
"... simple operation... "
A woman who was smart enough to outwit him.
"... bailed you out after you were arrested... "
Who had good taste in clothes.
"... murdering an accountant. An accountant for God's sake! A Jewish
accountant ... "
Barry was Jewish? Feldman was Jewish. Perhaps Jews were not as inferior as
Conrad believed. Perhaps...
"Are you listening to me, Kurt?"
"Yes, Conrad." And he closed his eyes to daydream about Russians and Jews and
whips. Oh my.
Epilogue Four
"Well?"
Yuri frowned as he hung up the phone. "We can't go home until we get Krycek."
"But we don't know where he is," Wojtek protested. "And we don't have a car."
"That's your fault. I asked you to read the classified ads for one that
fits our budget."
Wojtek rolled his eyes. "Our budget. Ever since the devaluation of the ruble,
that's all we worry about. Pinching rubles until Lenin screams. I'm sick of
the budget. Why can't we rent a car?"
"Because, idiot, we don't have a credit card. We were lucky to get the five
hundred dollars to buy a new car," Yuri hissed.
"You know what kind of a car five hundred gets you? Listen to this. For
sale. 1979 Mercury Cougar, some rust, some front body damage, brakes new,
needs transmission." He threw the paper on the table in disgust. "Maybe we
should consider going freelance."
"Who would hire us after this fiasco?"
"Strughold. He owes us."
"Strughold?"
"Yes."
And so they plotted.
Epilogue Five
"You know why I called you in here, Agent Mulder."
"No, sir." Oh, but he could, guess, couldn't he?
Skinner slammed a copy of New York Newsday on the desk and sections B and C
fluttered to the floor in protest. The title shouted, Sinking of the Fire
Island Ferry and the picture, taken by a tourist with a really good camera,
showed Feldman mid-shriek while Mulder fished her out of the water. "I assume
there was an X-File."
Mulder swallowed and thought fast. "No. I went to Fire Island for a
vacation."
"With Ellen Feldman?" The assistant director's voice rumbled like distant
thunder.
"No, but she was there with Kry... uh, her new boyfriend."
"I see." Skinner didn't look like he saw anything except the color red. "And
exactly how did that car end up going through the hull of the ferry, Agent
Mulder?"
"I thought the Suffolk County police had that in their report." Feldman had
concocted a wild tale about Russian terrorists which he'd been forced to
corroborate for lack of anything better.
Skinner's teeth were clenched. "It's been lost."
"Lost, sir?" Krycek's doing, no doubt. Thank god. Maybe the Consortium had
its uses after all. Maybe Krycek wasn't such a bad guy, eithernah.
"I'm waiting, Agent Mulder."
Mulder skimmed the article. There was mention of a naked blond giant of a
man, two Russians in bad clothes, a K car and, of course, federal agent Fox
Mulder and his ... oh dear god, his fiance, Ellen Feldman.
Feldman was going to pay for this.
Epilogue Six
"Are you sure about this, Feldman?"
"Positive." Ellen laid the keys on the table and pushed them across to him.
"With that nice, juicy settlement the Company got for me, I was able to get
this new apartment."
"But will you be able to make rent?" Krycek stuffed the keys into his pocket.
"I'm not going to bail you out every month, kitten."
She sniffed haughtily. "I've got myself a cash cow, Alex. I can make rent."
"Do tell."
Ooops. She didn't need him to know she was working for the smoker. At least,
not yet. "I'm doing UCC filings and collections for a car dealership. I might
even be able to work out a deal on a repossessed car."
Green eyes peered at her suspiciously through thick black lashes. "When did
you have time to do all this? You've been busy rescuing me."
Think fast. Think..."In between the time I left you in New York and leaving
here to rescue you."
Krycek frowned. Did he suspect...? "That was quite a story you told Mulder,
kitten. Russians, Serbs... what was the other thing?"
"Biotoxins."
"Biotoxins," he echoed, nodding. "Where did you learn about those?"
Oh man... Think, Feldman, think. "A Robin Cook novel. And a couple of
crappy movies on TV."
He didn't seem very convinced. "Anybody ever tell you, you watch too much TV?"
"No, but my mother told me never to talk with my mouth full."
The End. For now.
|
Disclaimer: The X-Files, Mulder, Scully, Strughold, CSM and Ratboy all belong
to Chris Carter and Fox, but we all know he could be doing a better job with
them. Something like what I've written.
Ellen Feldman, Winky the Cat and everybody else is mine. And they'd better not appear in any upcoming episodes, Spotsy or I'll sue ya! Dedication time: To Goo and Bliss (who didn't Beta so much as they did laugh their way through these pages and offer advice when needed). To my beloved Winky, I love you, baby. And to Nick Leawho hopefully will never see this. Quick Author's NoteThe first half of this isn't exactly the world's best, but it picks up steam and goes off the deep end. I tried re-working it, but there came a point when I gave up and let nature take its course. And then I wrote a sequel. Anyhow, enjoy and sorry about the beginning. |
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