Wicked Game
Parts 1-6

Part One

Dana Scully sighed heavily as she unlocked her apartment door. The day had not been a good one. First thing in the morning, she'd gotten a call from her oncologist, telling her that in the two short weeks since her diagnosis, her tumor had grown. Although she still felt okay, that news started her day off just the wrong way, and it went downhill from there. A pedophile she had personally arrested had been acquitted despite her testimony, her car had broken down, and she had endured a 20-minute chewing out from the Assistant Director because Mulder couldn't find the paperwork for their latest case. On top of that, the heel had broken off one of her shoes. She slogged into the apartment, removing shoes and suit jacket as she went, and plopped heavily onto the sofa. She wanted nothing more than to relax in a long, hot bubble bath and turn in early, putting an end to this awful day.

Then she became aware of the enticing aromas emanating from the kitchen.

"Mom, is that you?" she called, rising and drifting toward the kitchen. "Whatever that is, it smells wonderf --"

She froze and the words died in her throat at the sight of the man standing by the stove.

"Thank you very much." He replaced the lid on a pot and turned around to face her. "Welcome home, Dana," Alex Krycek said.

Her mind had trouble registering what her eyes were seeing. "But... but... I thought you were dead!"

His lips curved into a smirk. "Like the man said, only the good die young. Where'd you hear that, anyway? Mulder?"

Freed from her temporary paralysis, Scully went for the gun still at her waist. "Hands in the air! NOW!"

He watched as she drew the gun and chuckled softly. "You're not going to shoot me," he informed her with supreme confidence.

She aimed at his head. "What makes you so sure?"

"You had your chance already. You blew it."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Making dinner." He fixed his gaze on her. "Might as well put the gun down. You know you won't use it."

The cocky little grin on his face infuriated her, but she found that he was right; she couldn't shoot. Krycek still held the key to the mystery surrounding the MJ-12 files, as well as a couple of deaths, and, even aside from her natural aversion to killing except when absolutely necessary, she knew she couldn't just waste him without at least trying to get some answers.

Krycek leaned back against the counter. "Y'know, if you just relax a little, you'll see that I really am harmless... not to mention unarmed."

"Harmless? You?" she spat. "Maybe I should ask my sister how harmless you are! Or Mulder's father!" Discussion was closed for her on that point, but the jury was still out on whether or not he was really unarmed.

Her fury seemed to amuse him. "I can see we have a lot to talk about," he said, his voice friendly, conversational. "You seem to have a lot of misconceptions that need clearing up."

That was about the last thing she expected to hear from him. "Talk?"

"Yeah, talk. What'd you think I was here for, to kill you? I just want to talk to you, Scully."

She just stared at him for a moment longer. Finally she said, "I'm calling Mulder."

He studied her for a long moment; long enough for her to punch a couple digits of her partner's phone number. Then, "I'm not really into threesomes, but if that's what you want, go ahead. I can adapt."

The image sprang unbidden into her mind: herself, Krycek, and... Mulder?, naked limbs entwined... She shuddered and put the phone down.

"What? Mulder's not into threesomes, huh? I sort of thought he would be..."

"Pervert," she muttered.

He just laughed at her.

"Krycek, what the hell do you *want*?"

"You."

Mulder was gone from the mental image now, and Krycek was licking... "I'd rather eat bees," she spat, forcing the picture from her mind. She only needed four words to sum up that mental picture. Not. In. This. Lifetime.

He laughed softly. "No wonder they call you the Ice Queen. Seriously, I just want to talk."

"Just talk?" She could always call Mulder from the bedroom... assuming he let her out of the room.

"And eat." He glanced down at the timer next to the stove. "Dinner's almost ready. Why don't you go..." He leered at her and his voice dropped. "... slip into something more comfortable?"

Despite being handed her chance to call her partner, she didn't move.

He gave her a disapproving look. "Chill, will you, Scully? I'm not trying to poison you or anything. I spent so much time preparing this great dinner; the least you could do is share it with me."

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Oh, this and that..."

"Cut the crap. What do you want?"

"I want you to have dinner with me, okay? And... just maybe... explore the possibility of making a deal..."

"What kind of deal?"

"Dinner first. Then the deal."

She still didn't move.

Krycek shrugged and turned back to the stove, stirring the contents of a pot. "Okay, suit yourself," he said. "If that's what you want, I can just disappear. You'll never see me again... and you'll never get the answers you're looking for..."

An image came to her of her sister Melissa, lying in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around her head. If Luis Cardinal could be believed (and she wasn't by any means sure that he could be), then Krycek was responsible for Melissa's death. Or at least involved somehow. But - this was a very big but - he was also the last known custodian of the DAT tape with the MJ-12 files on it. The tape that had the answers. If she had it, maybe she could finally ease Mulder's mind about his father and his sister... and maybe she could make some sense of Missy's death. He also knew about that damn rock. Krycek knew what was in it, he knew what the organism did to people... and he just might know how to kill it...

<Can it really be that easy?> she wondered. <Would he really be willing to give up important information for a simple dinner? Or is there more to it than that? Oh, come on, Dana, there has to be more to it. What does he want? And will that information be worth whatever price I have to pay?>

She heard herself speak before she knew she was going to. "I'll just be a minute."

"Take your time." He glanced at the gun still in her hand. "But the gun stays here."

Scully's eyes moved from her guest to her gun and back again, but she didn't move.

Krycek leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. "Look, if you're going to shoot me, just shoot me already. If not, drop the gun."

She still didn't move.

"You'd rather have me take it away from you? That can be arranged. Might even be fun..."

Looking at him, she knew he was right. He could probably disarm her with one hand. Could definitely kill her if he wanted. <Watch out here, Dana,> she told herself. <Something's going on here that you don't understand. Pick your battles carefully. You can afford to let him win this one.> She sighed and laid the gun on the table.

"Thank you," he said with a self-satisfied little smile and a glance at the timer. "You've got about 5 minutes. If you're going, go."

Scully traveled most of the way toward her bedroom backwards, keeping a watchful eye on her enigmatic guest. He busied himself with the food, not making any move whatsoever to follow her. With him busy elsewhere, she should have a chance to call Mulder from the bedroom phone...

The instant she closed the bedroom door, she put her hand on the phone... but then stopped. What would Mulder do if he came over? His usual response to Krycek's presence was to beat the hell out of him. Was that an efficient way to gain information? And what the hell was she going to say to Mulder if she called him? "Krycek's here, he broke into my place... and he's making me dinner." Right, making dinner was just cause to arrest him. Well, there was the breaking and entering, not to mention the outstanding warrants... That was enough to justify a phone call. Better to have backup when arresting somebody like Alex Krycek anyway.

She snatched up the phone... but there was no dialtone. Tapping on the disconnect buttons didn't bring one either, so she started to examine the phone. Handset was connected to base, which was connected to... nothing. There was no cord connecting the phone to the jack.

"*Damn* it!" She started tearing the room apart in search of the cord, but she knew she wouldn't find it. "He took it," she hissed. "That bastard *took* it!" Suddenly remembering her cell phone, she turned back to the bed, only to curse again when she pictured her bag, cell phone nestled comfortably inside, lying where she had dropped it. In the living room.

"Okay, calm down," she said, speaking aloud and pacing up and down in an effort to do just that. "Examine your options here, Dana. You have no weapon, no phone. You're being held hostage in your own home by a wanted felon. He wants to have dinner with you..." She shook her head. Dinner? What the hell was he getting at? "...and he wants to make a deal. A deal. What kind of deal? What the hell could he possibly want from me that would make him take the huge chance to come here?"

She flung herself on the bed with a sigh. "What can I do? Absolutely nothing, that's what. I can't call Mulder, I can't disable Krycek... Well, I could try, but he's probably prepared for anything I might do... What choice do I have? Unless I send smoke signals out this window or something, nobody has any idea that anything weird's going on. Nobody at all. Unless..."

Maybe her cell phone was an option after all. It was only in the living room, easily reachable if Krycek should leave her alone at any point during dinner. He couldn't watch her every moment, could he? All she needed was a minute, just one little minute, to punch the speed dial button for Mulder's number and tell him to come over. That would end this before it went too far. All she needed was an opportunity. Which meant that she needed to at least make a show of having dinner with Krycek.

She sat up and faced her reflection in the dresser mirror. "Face it, Dana," she said, "you have to do it." She sighed again and got up. "Might as well try to make it look good."

After thinking about it for a moment, she changed quickly into leggings and her FBI Academy sweatshirt. She had to admit to herself that the prospect of a deal was intriguing. From what Krycek had said, she was pretty sure he was offering the information from the tape and whatever else he knew about the smoking man's operations. If she and Mulder had that information, maybe they'd be able to nail both the smoking man and Krycek, finally giving both of them what they deserved. Maybe, just maybe...

When she went back out to the dining area, she found that Krycek had been busy while she'd been deciding what to do. The table was now elegantly set for two, there was a bottle of wine waiting in the middle of the table, soft music was playing, and the lights were dimmed. Candles were burning, their delicate fragrance wafting through the air as she tried to identify it.

Krycek noticed her presence and uncorked the wine bottle. "We still have a few minutes," he told her, handing her a glass of wine. "Here, taste this while you're waiting. Tell me if you like it."

She accepted the glass and sipped from it without thinking, her mind still fixed on the candle question. Where had she gotten those candles, anyway? Missy's candle party, more than two years ago. The memory came back in a rush: her sister pleading with her to "just come and look, Dana; you don't have to buy anything if you don't want to." She'd gone just to be polite and felt guilty about it, so she'd bought two boxes. The scents were... vanilla and cranberry. Yes, that was it. That was what was burning now. Her mysterious guest was burning her dead sister's candles.

"Dana? Everything okay?" Krycek's voice cut through her reverie, and she turned to find him standing behind her, faint concern on his face.

She buried the last of the memory. "Fine. Why?" Had he just called her by her first name?

"Nothing; you just looked like you were a million miles away." Krycek disappeared into the kitchen, and reappeared carrying her large serving tray, covered with foil. "I hope you don't mind about the candles," he said. "I found them at the bottom of the closet and figured they might help..." He drew a chair away from the table, inviting her to sit down. "...set the mood."

Keeping a wary eye on him the whole time, Scully sat. "Oh, you've set a mood, all right." She placed her wine glass on the table, very surprised to find that it was empty. She didn't even remember tasting the wine.

He went back to the kitchen and returned with a small platter of potatoes and a bowl of vegetables before sitting down. "Glad you agree" he said, peeling the foil off the tray.

"What is that?" Scully peered at the platter.

"Stuffed veal chops." He forked one onto her plate.

She stared at the meat, until its tempting aroma made her realize suddenly that she was starving. She poked at the chop with her fork, then mentally chastised herself for such a silly gesture. What did she expect, that it would poke back? He watched her with an amused smile. He had to know how suspicious she was of anything he gave her, right? Sure he knew, and he loved torturing her. She looked up and saw him take a bite of his own veal chop. He wouldn't do that if he'd done anything to the food, would he? Well, if she died by veal chop poisoning, at least she wouldn't have endure the rest of this dinner. Steeling herself, she took fork in hand again and flaked off a bit of the chop to taste. He watched with interest as her eyes widened in surprise. "This is very good," she admitted. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Oh, here and there." Krycek watched her eagerly take another bite. "Here, don't forget the veggies."

Scully scooped a twice-baked potato off the plate and took a spoonful of the baby carrots dripping in butter sauce, as Krycek filled his wineglass and refilled hers. Okay, so the food was somewhat less healthy than what she usually ate, but what the hell? It was good, and it wasn't like she couldn't afford to put on a little weight. "I never would've figured you for the cooking type."

He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Yeah, well, I have lots of hidden talents."

She dropped her fork suddenly as she remembered just who she was eating with. "Breaking and entering is at the top of that list, isn't it?"

Krycek sipped his wine before calmly continuing with his own meal. "Bothers you that your apartment is so easy to get into?"

"No, it bothers me that *you* got into it." She absently sipped her wine, a particularly good red. Sneaking a peek at the bottle's label, she discovered that it was a California Merlot. One of the more expensive ones, if memory served. "Just what are you doing here anyway?"

"Patience, Dana, patience," he chided her. "All in due time."

There was her first name again. "Where do you get off calling me that?"

"What, Dana? That's your name, isn't it?"

"I wasn't aware we were on a first name basis."

"We should be, don't you think?"

"I'd rather not."

"I'd rather we were." His voice was soft, but the command was clear. "Things will seem a whole lot more... civil that way, don't you agree?"

Scully took a longer drink of wine to wash down the last of her first veal chop as she reached for another. It was more than she usually ate, but then again, she hadn't been eating much lately, and this was the first time in a while that food had appealed to her this much. She decided not to fight him on the name issue. What was the point? "You said you wanted to talk," she reminded him. "So talk."

He topped off her wineglass again before taking a second veal chop of his own. "You seem to have a lot on your mind," he observed. "Why don't you start?"

"I already did. What the hell are you doing here?"

Krycek looked at her like she had three heads. "Having dinner with you."

"Cut the crap. You know what I mean -- why did you come here?"

"I came here," he said, "to have dinner with you, talk to you... and maybe make a deal."

How could she forget that? She took another sip of wine. "Oh, yes, the famous deal. What kind of deal is it again?"

"I told you, not till after dinner."

He lifted the bottle to fill her glass yet again, but she placed her hand over it. "Trying to get me drunk?"

He put the bottle down. "Not at all," he said smoothly. "You're just enjoying it so much, I thought I'd... help."

"My glass is still almost full. If I want more I'll let you know, okay?" How terribly polite this all sounded.

He shrugged. "Fine."

Satisfied now, Scully sipped at her wine again, becoming aware that she was getting a pleasant buzz on. Nothing to be concerned about, really; she was still in control. "Am I allowed to ask about the silo?" she asked, drinking more deeply. The wine he'd chosen was just too good. She almost never got the expensive stuff, and she was damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it. On her own terms.

He smiled indulgently. "Sure, you can ask. I suppose you want to know how I got out?"

"Mm-hmm. You lied to us."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Did I?"

"The guy from the militia said so." She couldn't remember just what the man had said, but she knew it didn't agree with what Krycek had told them. "So how did you get out?"

"Friends in low places, Dana."

He lifted the bottle and raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She allowed him to fill her glass again as she thought back. Had he refilled his own at any point? He had to -- the bottle was more than half empty, and she couldn't possibly have consumed all that. Aware that she was watching him, he sipped at his own wine and smiled at her. "I wasn't aware you had any friends," she said.

His response was a soft, amused chuckle.

She sighed. "What friends?"

"Don't worry, you don't know them."

"I know one of them. Luis Cardinal."

"Oh, yes, Luis." Krycek sipped his wine and took another potato. "I understand he had an unfortunate accident while in your custody."

"He said you shot my sister."

He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow. "You know better than that," he said evenly.

She did -- and damn him for knowing that. "You shot Mulder's father."

"Dana, you surprise me. I think that's the first time I've ever heard you jump to a conclusion without even a shred of proof."

"How much proof do I need? You went back to finish Mulder off too --"

"And you shot him instead." Krycek gazed at her steadily over the rim of his glass. "Did I ever thank you for that? He would've killed me."

"He should've!" Scully snapped.

He shook his head reproachfully. "Dana, Dana. And here I thought your mother taught you manners --"

"You leave my mother out of this! Haven't you done enough to my family already?"

"What *have* I done to your family?"

"My sister --"

"I didn't kill her. You know that."

"You were there! You were going to --"

"I never fired a shot that night," he said. "I could have and *should* have, but I didn't do anything."

"You think you should've buried a bullet in my sister's head like your friend Cardinal?"

"No," he said quietly. "No, your sister was quite safe from me."

"So your bullets were meant for --"

"That," he interrupted, "is a topic for another time. You're obviously not in the correct frame of mind to discuss it."

"You were going to shoot me."

He put his glass down and fixed his gaze on her. "If I really wanted you dead," he said, "you'd be dead already. Do you believe that?"

She met his direct gaze, and an odd thought crept into her mind. <What beautiful eyes he has. Such a lovely shade of green. Why didn't I ever notice that before?> "Yes, I do," she heard herself say, surprising herself with the words.

"And you still think I was here to shoot you?"

She took a small sip of wine. "Why were you here that night?"

He picked up his glass again and swirled the remaining wine around in it a bit before sipping. "I had my reasons. You're not ready to hear them."

Scully raised her glass slightly and pondered the ruby liquid as she let his words drift through her mind. Reasons? What reasons could he have, if he wasn't going to kill her? "What do you want from me?" she asked in a small voice.

"We're getting to that. You up for some dessert?"

"I'd rather hear you get to the point."

"Okay, I suppose we can take a break before dessert." Krycek rose and extended his hand to her. "Dance with me, Dana."

Only the fact that she continued to see him standing there, hand extended toward her, convinced her that she had indeed heard what she thought she'd heard. "You are completely insane," she told him. "Did you know that? Totally nuts!"

He dropped his hand and rested it on the back of the chair. "Is that your standard reply to any guy who asks you to dance?"

Was it? She couldn't even remember the last time a man asked her to dance. "No, it's special, just for you. Why in the world would I want to dance with you?"

He shrugged. "Why not? Dinner and dancing go hand in hand, don't they?"

Scully settled more firmly into her chair. "Not during business deals, they don't. And, assuming we ever get to it, this is a business deal, isn't it?"

"That it is. But no business deal in history ever went down without some schmoozing first."

She shook her head. "No amount of schmoozing is ever going to get me to trust you, you know."

He chuckled. "I'm not asking you to trust me; I'm only asking you to dance with me. One harmless little dance. Is that really so hard?"

She studied his face, which revealed no clue whatsoever as to what might be running through his mind. "We'll talk about this deal of yours afterwards?"

"Absolutely." He extended his hand to her again. "So... dance with me?"

One little dance. What harm could it do? If it would make him lay out the damn deal any faster, she'd do it. She took his outstretched hand and tried to rise, but as she stood up, a wave of dizziness overcame her and she stumbled. <I didn't drink*that* much, did I? Careful, Dana, careful...> Krycek caught her and supported her until she regained her footing. "Easy there, Dana," he chided softly. "We don't want you breaking anything, do we?"

Scully froze when she felt his arms around her. When was the last time she'd allowed anyone contact that intimate? Following her diagnosis. It had been Mulder then, and his touch had been comforting and supportive. This touch... was something else entirely. Unknown. Dangerous.

<Exciting?> a tiny voice in her mind suggested.

She shook that thought from her head, causing another near- stumble as Krycek led her away from the table and toward the center of the living room. Then she was in his arms again and they were swaying together to the soft background music. "Now, is this really so horrible?" he asked her.

Scully felt herself starting to relax somewhat into his embrace. It was probably a good thing that his arms were around her, as she thought she might have trouble standing up on her own. Her head felt swimmy (<drank more wine than I thought, didn't I?>) and her limbs felt... sort of floaty. <Still in control, though. I know exactly what I'm doing... he's going to tell me about the deal right after this. Right?>

She gazed up into his eyes, and again found herself thinking about how lovely they were. Beautiful green pools, framed by astonishingly long lashes. < Not just the eyes, either. He's really a very handsome man. How did I manage to miss this?> "Not horrible at all," she murmured.

"So glad you agree. Kind of nice, isn't it?"

She closed her eyes and let herself drift. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been held like this by a man, and it really was kind of nice. Shortly after her diagnosis, people -- everyone, including her mother -- had pretty much stopped touching her. It seemed as though they were almost afraid to touch her, for whatever reason. She needed, no, craved that contact, to reassure herself that she was still alive, that she still mattered. <So what if it's Krycek?> that little voice said. <Feels really good, doesn't it?> "Mmm," she sighed. "Yeah, kind of nice."

He drew her closer, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. She breathed deeply, inhaling his scent -- a heady mix of light cologne and a scent uniquely his own. < A nice scent,> that little voice put in. <Intoxicating...>

Her eyes flew open and she pulled slightly away from him as she suddenly remembered who she was dancing with. <Stop it>, the rational side of her mind told her. <Remember who this is. Remember that evil can be very, very seductive...>

Scully pulled further away from him. "This is a bad idea --"

Krycek slipped his hands up her back from her waist, then down her arms until he was gently holding her hands. "Now might be a good time for a dessert break. Is that okay with you?" he asked, leading her back to the table.

"Um... yeah, dessert. Sounds good," she mumbled, her mind occupied by what had just happened. <He stopped. He actually stopped. What's going on here? What is he really doing?>

He disappeared into the kitchen, returning with two plates, one of which he placed before her. "You like strawberry cheesecake, don't you, Dana?" he asked, moving back into the kitchen.

Beating back the memory of his arms around her, she stared at the small slab of cheesecake on her plate. "I haven't had this in years. Do you have any idea how much fat there is in this one slice?"

"Aw, c'mon, live a little," he coaxed, settling across the table from her. "It's good, and it's not like you really need to watch what you eat these days, is it?"

She looked up sharply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I know about the cancer." The look in his eyes was soft, sympathetic - - and a great surprise to Scully. "I was very sorry to hear about it."

"Yeah, I bet you were," she hissed. "You --"

"Let's not talk about that, okay? Here, try this." Krycek placed a newly-filled wine glass in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Dessert wine. Goes great with the cake."

She glared at him. "You are trying to get me drunk, aren't you?"

"Now, why would I do that? At least *taste* it. One little sip; that's all I ask."

"Hmph." She met his eyes for a moment more, then picked up the glass. One sip. That can't hurt, can it? So she tasted it. "Pretty good," she said with some surprise. "Not too sweet."

He smiled. "Glad you like it. How's the cake, okay?"

Scully hadn't meant to eat any, but it did look tempting and she could probably use the food to counteract some of the wine in her system. She picked up her fork and dug a small bite out of the cheesecake wedge. "It is good," she admitted, immediately taking a bigger bite.

He smiled. "Told you. So... nice place you have here."

Chewing thoughtfully, she looked up at him, again wondering what he was thinking. "Thank you. Can we talk about the deal now?"

"I told you, later."

"You said after we danced."

"No, I said after dinner. That means after dessert, too."

Scully sighed and sipped her wine. "What kind of deal is it?"

"Yes, very nice place. How's the rent? Looks expensive."

"There aren't any vacancies in the building, in case you were wondering. What kind of deal is it?" Trying to control the urge to reach out and belt her dinner guest, she drained her wine glass without thinking.

Krycek refilled it for her. "It's a deal I think you'll find very... enjoyable." He took her hand firmly in his and gently massaged the back of it with his thumb. "You'll learn lots and lots of new things."

Her eyes locked on his, and she found herself unable to either look away or pull her hand away. "What kind of new things?"

"Things you've always wanted to know." His voice was low and inviting now; his gentle massage igniting a pleasant warmth on her skin. "Things that you never thought you'd ever know. There'll be a lot of new experiences, too."

Her heart skipped a beat as she gazed at him, almost hypnotized by those deep green eyes. "N... new experiences? What kind?" she murmured.

"Only the best kind, Dana. And the best part is, it's nothing you haven't done before, and nothing you don't want to do."

She found herself drinking deeply, without taking her eyes off his. "Something... I want to do?"

"Oh, yes, Dana, you want to. You may not know it now, but you want to. You might even need to."

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she gave a small cry and snatched her hand away from his. "No... no. I'm not doing anything. Not yet... not until I hear the terms of the deal..."

"Of course not," Krycek said smoothly. "I wouldn't expect you to do anything unless you knew exactly what you were getting into." He glanced at her plate and her gaze followed his, both of them seeing her empty plate and drained glass. "Done with dessert, Dana? Maybe we should work off some of that food before we talk, mmm?"

<Work it off? How?> Scully closed her eyes for a long moment when the room started to spin slightly before her. When she opened them, she saw that intense emerald gaze fixed on her again. "No, let's talk now. Tell me about this deal."

"Come on, Dana, just one little dance," Krycek coaxed. "Just for a couple minutes. After all, we didn't finish last time, did we? We stopped."

"We stopped so you could tell me about the deal."

"And I will... after."

"You said after dinner and dessert. Is this dance part of dessert too?"

"It's part of the whole dinner experience, yes. So... dance with me?"

Again the memory of his arms around her came back, and she could almost feel his embrace, how good it felt... "No," she said firmly. "I want to hear the terms of the deal."

"You will -- after we dance."

She crossed her arms and looked up at him.

"No dance, no deal," he said, rising from his chair.

"If there's no deal, you can just leave. Right now."

He laughed softly. "You really want to just throw the deal away?"

"I don't know. How can I know unless I hear the terms?"

"Do you want to hear the terms?"

"Yes! Isn't that what I've been asking you?"

"Then dance with me." Krycek came up behind her chair and helped her stand, keeping an arm around her to steady her. "One harmless little dance," he purred in her ear. "The last one was harmless, wasn't it? Such a small price to pay to hear the terms of the deal..."

Scully allowed him to lead her back to the center of the living room, and then she was wrapped in his arms again. <I suppose it is a small price to pay,> she admitted to herself, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder. <And it does feel pretty nice...>

"See, that's not so bad, is it?" he murmured. "Nice. And harmless..."

At that word, she suddenly froze in his arms. <Harmless? Alex Krycek is*not* harmless...>

"Something wrong, Dana?"

She pulled away from him. "This isn't a good idea --"

Krycek drew her firmly back to him and at the same time spun her around so that his arms were encircling her from behind. "Oh, yes, it is," he whispered seductively in her ear. "This is a very, very good idea..."

They were swaying to the music again, her arms pinned and her movements restricted by his tight embrace. "You're such a beautiful woman, Dana," he murmured in that same seductive voice, softly kissing her hair. "So beautiful..."

She sighed softly. How long had it been since a man told her she was beautiful? Far too long. She'd almost forgotten how lovely that was to hear.

As if he could sense what she was thinking, Krycek drew her closer. "Hasn't he ever told you that?" he breathed into her hair.

She felt his right hand begin a slow journey down the side of her body; softly brushing the swell of her breast, tracing the curve of her waist, lightly skimming her hip. "So beautiful," he whispered softly, lightly brushing his lips over her neck. "No, he'd never tell you that, would he?"

His hand reversed its journey and moved around to very gently cup one breast. "How he could've missed how beautiful you are, I don't understand," he went on, kissing lightly around her ear between whispered words. "He doesn't notice. He's never noticed." The hand moved to her other breast, gently stroking it all over, lightly teasing the nipple when it rose to meet his finger, and a soft moan escaped her lips. "I noticed," he went on in that seductive whisper. "I noticed a long time ago..."

She felt his hand start to travel down her body again. <What the hell is he doing?> She moaned a soft protest and tried to free her arms to stop him, but they were still firmly pinned to her body by his left arm. His hand slipped over her hip again and halfway down her thigh, gently caressing as it moved smoothly from the outside of her leg to the inside. She immediately pressed her legs together in an effort to deter him, but she soon found the persistent gentle stroking between her thighs to be an infuriatingly pleasant sensation, and she found herself shifting position to allow him greater freedom. Even as she did so, the rational side of her mind screamed at her, <What are you *doing*?> But then his hand moved up again, with just the barest touch over her mound that sent a shock wave coursing through her body, and she ignored that voice of reason.

His roving hand moved to her breasts again, stroking each of them more insistently, teasing her nipples to hard peaks through her clothing. As his hand worked, she felt a sudden warm heaviness settle in her lower body. Each stroke of finger on nipple made the feeling just the tiniest bit more intense, and she heard herself sigh softly. His other arm pulled her tighter against him and his soft kisses moved from her neck to the side of her face. "You feel so good," he murmured into her ear between kisses. "I knew you would." As his hand left her breast and moved slowly, agonizingly downward again, she whimpered in protest... a protest of a different kind.

"Who knew?" he went on softly, sliding his hand down her body again to where her legs met her torso. "Who knew that under those prim suits was such a beautiful body?" His hand dipped down between her legs again, this time lightly stroking her mound. Her breath caught in her throat at that first touch, and the warm heaviness in that part of her body started to take on a form she couldn't deny as being arousal.

"Nobody noticed, did they?" he continued, gradually increasing the pressure of his strokes but not the speed. "I did. I noticed all sorts of things." A sudden jolt ran through her when his finger brushed over her most sensitive area, and her legs parted of their own accord, wordlessly inviting him to explore further. She gasped aloud when he did, his hand circling gently but insistently around the newly-revealed area. Her arousal was growing now, and it occurred to her that she didn't want him to stop.

She became aware that the sound she heard was her own breathing, faster now and accompanied by soft moans. Her knees buckled a bit and she cried out when his hand found the precise spot she longed for him to touch, igniting sudden flares of need throughout her body. She lapsed into quiet sighs as his hand continued its circling, the left one now joining in by moving up and toying with a nipple. She relaxed into his embrace, pushing her pelvis forward into his hand, begging him to stroke harder.

His lips brushed over her neck by her ear again. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he whispered, and she found herself moaning in assent. "You haven't felt like this in quite a while, have you? I know what you want. I know what you need..."

His hand's movements became more insistent, making her wish there wasn't any clothing between it and her body. It did feel good - much too good. When was the last time she'd felt like this? She couldn't even remember. Her arousal climbed another notch and she felt herself growing wetter, more ready for...

"I can make you feel good. I can give you everything you ever wanted," his voice purred in her ear, its sound now mingled with her own almost constant moans. "More than you ever dreamed... I can give you everything you need..."

<Don't stop,> she silently begged. <Give me what I need right now...>

A sudden jolt of reason hit her and her eyes snapped open when she realized what it was she wanted... and what he meant to do. Fighting against the ache between her legs, she wriggled in his grasp and managed to weaken it. "What the hell do you think you're *doing*?" she cried.

His arms immediately encircled her waist again, stilled, but he continued to rain kisses on her neck. "What you want me to do," he murmured. "Why don't you tell me what you want me to do?"

She took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "Deal?" she asked hesitantly.

His lips moved to the other side of her neck. "After..."

"A-a-after... what?" Inexplicably her arousal grew more intense now that he was no longer touching her... there.

"Whatever you want. Tell me what you want, Dana."

"I want... want..." <No, no, I won't, I can't... But I want...>

His arms pulled her closer against him again, and now she could feel his erection, velvet-sheathed steel against her backside. <I want that... I need that... You son of a bitch, I need that...>

She turned to face him, meeting those intense green eyes. He gazed evenly at her, and she realized he was breathing harder too. Her breathing intensified as she stared at him, her arousal climbing yet another notch. <No, not arousal,> she thought. <Not anymore. Need. I need...>

Completely unaware that she was going to do it, she drew his face to hers and claimed his mouth in a savage kiss.

His lips immediately parted to her and she slid her tongue forward, sweeping it over his lips, his teeth, his tongue, the roof of his mouth, allowing him the same access to her mouth. His tongue still tasted of the wine, a flavor she lapped up greedily. His arms encircled her again as they kissed, pulling her close, the feel of his body against hers setting off sparks all through her. She no longer cared who he was or what he'd done, but only cared that he was willing to give her what she hadn't had in far too long. To treat her in the way that no man had in a very long time. Reason left her as they kissed; she was operating now only on want and need.

She kissed him until she couldn't breathe anymore, and when she drew back and looked into his eyes, she saw in them a hunger that mirrored her own. He held her gaze for a long moment, then kissed her again, his mouth conveying that same hunger. At the same time he gently urged her backwards so that if she didn't step back, she would've fallen. So she took a step back and he moved with her, still urging her backwards. She soon realized what he was doing -- moving her in the direction of the bedroom. She went eagerly and he went with her, his shirt and her sweatshirt quickly left in their wake.

The next thing she knew, she was on her back on her bed, the full length of Krycek's body on top of her, his hand sliding underneath her to unhook her bra. He didn't remove it, though -- from there his hand glided down her body and slipped inside the waistband of her leggings. He continued to kiss her; hungry, demanding kisses that she returned with equal fervor. Her arms, locked around him, now started to move down. Touching him wasn't enough -- she needed more. She needed to do something. So she slipped her hand between their bodies, reaching for the waistband of his jeans.

She had just realized that he was no longer *wearing* jeans when he grasped her hand in his and brought it to his mouth, where he gently sucked on each finger in turn. She'd never thought of that gesture as erotic before, but it was incredibly so now. It showed her, even more than his kisses did, the promise in those lips, that tongue, what they could do to her... and oh, God, did she want... need... him to fulfill that promise...

His hand slid slowly, sensuously up her arm to her shoulder, where he lifted her bra strap and slipped it down her arm. He did the same to the other, and as he was sliding the bra off her, she became aware that she was now wearing nothing but panties... and he was wearing nothing at all. She wondered briefly when he'd had a chance to remove the rest of their clothing, and why she hadn't noticed, and that voice of reason in her mind suddenly spoke up: <What is he doing? No, no, please, no...> But then he kissed her again and all other thought was lost.

As he kissed her, she felt his hand softly cupping her breast, his thumb gently teasing her nipple. She moaned softly and kissed him harder, the ache between her legs climbing yet another notch with each movement of his finger. He turned his attention to her other breast long enough to bring the nipple to a hard peak again, then moved his mouth to that same breast.

She gasped as his tongue glided over her nipple; cried out as he took it into his mouth and softly sucked on it. Her need growing greater by the second, she shifted position beneath him, inviting him to take this to the next level, but he only continued the slow, gentle exploration with his tongue. She moved again, her sighs turning to soft cries when his teeth scraped gently across her nipple. That utterly unexpected sensation shot her arousal into overdrive, and she reached for him, needing to kiss him, touch him, do *something*... but his head was no longer at her breast. His attention was moving lower.

The hands that had been resting on her hips now slid her panties off, and one moved between her legs, where the fingers began gently exploring the skin of her inner thighs. She moaned and shifted position again, aching for more contact, but his touch remained feather-light, teasing her. She moved again, parting her legs more, inviting him to explore further. He did; slowly, agonizingly teasing every inch of the flesh of her inner thighs with surprisingly, infuriatingly gentle fingers. Every nerve ending in her body was on fire now, and she lazily wondered if it was possible to have an orgasm just from this. She thought she could, knew she could, if he'd only move that finger just... one... inch... further...

As if reading her thoughts, he did; that exploring finger starting a lazy journey around her outer lips. She gasped and jerked underneath him, her arousal shooting up yet another notch. Was it possible to be this aroused and not come? She desperately needed to now, but he wouldn't speed up or increase the pressure he used. He lightly dragged a finger over her opening, gently teasing each and every fold of excruciatingly sensitive flesh surrounding it, using her own secretions for lubrication as he flicked that same finger across her clitoris. She moaned aloud as she felt her orgasm building, knowing she'd come if he just did that again... but his finger returned to exploring less sensitive areas.

She slowly let out the breath she was holding as her arousal ebbed a bit, now that release was no longer imminent... until she felt his finger slip inside her. She gasped and cried out as the muscles inside involuntarily contracted around the unexpected invader, and again she was sure she'd come... but then the finger slipped out. Again it moved away from where she wanted it as she whimpered and squirmed in frustration.

Without warning, something slid into her again; something thicker than before, but still slender... two fingers this time. She moaned aloud and arched her body up to meet his hand as his fingers slipped deeper inside her, further than the other one had gone, until she could feel his hand resting against her entrance. Clutching the sheets in both hands, she groaned louder and squirmed again, begging him to move, to finish what he'd started.

After a moment, the fingers inside her did move, slowly sliding most of the way out, then back in, his thumb lightly stroking her clitoris in time with the movements. As his fingers moved faster, she started to move with him, pressure building inexorably inside her toward the point of no return... until his fingers found it: that one tiny, exquisitely responsive circle of flesh deep inside, the one she'd heard about but never thought she had. One touch there and her muscles contracted violently around his fingers; she cried out as she crashed over the edge and waves of the most intense pleasure she'd ever experienced coursed through her body from deep inside.

Once she became aware again of feelings other than her orgasm, she realized that his fingers were no longer inside her, and he was starting to repeat his hand's exploration with his tongue. Never in her life had she experienced foreplay like this; never known a man to pay such lavish attention to her body. He was lightly licking her inner thighs, providing just enough sensation to keep her at mid-level arousal, satisfied yet still wanting, needing more.

He didn't make her wait as long this time. He quickly turned his attention to her labia, lightly licking every inch of the engorged flesh before covering the entire space with one long tongue stroke that shot her arousal instantly back into overdrive. She moaned and writhed underneath him, twisting the sheets in her hands, powerless to do anything else. Then his tongue swirled over her still-sensitive clitoris as he began to suck gently on it, and she came again.

The second orgasm wasn't as strong as the first, but she was still panting and still felt the spasms rippling through her as he moved up and kissed her. She immediately snaked her arms around him and pulled his body close against hers, conveying the need she still felt through ravenous kisses, only vaguely aware that the unfamiliar taste on his tongue was that of her own body.

He rained kisses on her face and throat, nibbling her ear lightly as his hand moved down between her legs again. She immediately opened herself to his exploration, still fully aroused, still wet, still ready, still needing more. And then he gave it to her.

She gasped harshly, partly in pleasure, partly in pain, as the head of his organ slowly entered her. He was big, thicker than anyone else she'd been with; big enough to hurt a little. The muscles deep inside her closed in protest against the invader; she whimpered and again the voice of reason took over: <No... don't... no, please, no...> But he continued to push relentlessly into her; his hand now stroking between her legs, gently coaxing her open again.

It worked; she could feel herself stretching to accommodate him. She gasped and moaned as she felt him slide all the way into her, deeply, oh so deeply, and start moving. She felt filled, completely filled, and despite the initial pain it felt good, so, so good, much too good, and she found herself moving with him. His rhythm picked up now, and between his hand's stroking and the friction inside, she felt yet another climax building.

In her state of sensory overload, it didn't take long. With a cry she came again, harder than before, the spasms tearing through her body with a power she'd never known. Just a moment later she heard him gasp and felt him come too, felt him spurting deep inside her, coating her insides, warming her.

She lay there panting and unmoving for a while, fully sated, exhausted. He didn't move for a while either, until she felt him withdraw his softening organ and his full weight collapsed on top of her.

Then she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the intense green eyes of Alex Krycek.

<Oh my God, no, I didn't...> With a gasp of horror, Scully pushed him off her, and in an instant she was wrapped in her robe and huddled in the chair in the corner of the room. Horror, shame, and an anger of an intensity she'd rarely felt before all coursed through her as she stared back toward the bed, and she found herself grasping a shoe that lay by the chair and flinging it at his head. "You BASTARD!" she shrieked. "You son of a bitch! How could you do that to me?" Another shoe flew toward the bed.

Krycek ducked slightly and the shoe hit the wall behind him, hard enough for the heel to leave a mark. "Does that mean it wasn't good for you?" he asked, the picture of innocence.

"Son of a bitch!" she yelled again, sending another shoe flying. "You raped me!"

He watched the shoe drop harmlessly onto the bed next to him, then looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "I never heard the word 'no,'" he informed her.

"Just because you didn't hear it doesn't mean I didn't *say* it," Scully seethed, flinging the last shoe's mate. <I *did* say it... didn't I?>

"You didn't."

"I most certainly *did*!" <I did, I did, I know I did... oh, God, didn't I?>

Krycek laughed softly. "Sure didn't seem to me like you wanted to say no," he said. "In fact, if I recall, you were the one who kissed me."

"NO!" <No, I know I didn't do that, why would I do that...?>

"Of course, it doesn't really matter what you wanted to say, does it?" he went on. "It was pretty much inevitable. After all, it's just as easy to make someone come as it is to make them scream..."

She felt a very unwelcome twinge between her legs at his words, but managed to squelch the flash of memory that brought it on. "Bastard!" she fumed.

"And let's see now, what was it again? Three orgasms? I think you might've stopped after one if you really didn't want to go any further - -"

"PIG!" Out of shoes now, Scully grabbed the first thing she could reach off the dresser and threw it at him. It was her hairbrush, and her aim was slightly better this time -- he had to duck again, but it still didn't hit him. "Disgusting pig!"

Krycek laughed again. "I just call 'em as I see 'em."

Scully settled deeper into the chair, only then realizing that she felt sticky. <Should've gone to the bathroom first...> ran through her mind as she threw something else from the dresser. "You didn't even use a condom!"

He propped another pillow up behind himself and looked her right in the eye. "Certified disease-free. You can do the blood tests yourself."

"Don't think I won't!"

"Oh, I know you will. Why do you think I invited you to?"

Scully closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. It took a few moments, but she finally felt rational thought start to return. <Think, Dana,> she told herself. <What do you do? Call the cops. Right, then try to explain all that wine. Call Mulder? Same problem. Still...>

She would've picked up the phone to call her partner, except that the phone was on the nighttable next to the bed. The bed her attacker was still in. Seeing him there helped her decide. She was overcome with a sudden need to get Krycek the hell out of her apartment; to erase any evidence that this ever happened. "Get out," she growled at him.

He arched an eyebrow at her. "Out?"

"Get OUT!" she yelled, picking up another object from the dresser, ready to throw. "You've had your fun; you got me drunk and got your rocks off. Now get out before I call Mulder!"

He laughed softly. "But Dana, don't you want to hear about the deal?"

Part Two

Scully's arm froze in mid-throw. "Deal?" she asked.

"Yeah, deal." Krycek leaned back against the pillow. "You do remember the deal, don't you?"

The evening's dinner flashed into her memory. He'd held the prospect of some sort of deal over her head the whole night, to the point where she was starting to doubt there ever was any deal. Was there really? She carefully placed her chosen projectile back on the dresser and took a deep breath. "What deal?"

He looked her over speculatively. "Are you sure you're ready for this? I don't think you are."

She slammed her fist on the chair arm. "Dammit, Krycek, cut the crap and tell me! What deal?"

"Okay, okay, keep your shirt on." He swept his gaze over her body with a wicked grin. "Or off, if you prefer..."

Scully picked up her weapon again. "I'm warning you, Krycek --"

"First names, remember, Dana?"

Fuming, she just glared at him.

He laughed. "Okay, if you insist. Now, where to begin...?"

"That's it; I've had it. I'm calling Mulder." She skirted the edge of the room, staying as far away from the bed as possible, and snatched up the phone's handset. She soon realized what the smirk on Krycek's face was for, as she listened to the deafening silence on the phone. It was still disconnected. <Damn you!> she thought, slamming down the phone and retreating to her chair.

He waited until she was settled again before fixing those deep green eyes on hers. "Ready to hear it now?" he asked.

"I've *been* ready! Would you just *tell* me?"

"Okay, the deal." Krycek shifted position a bit and leaned back against the pillow again. "First, I know things. Things you and Mulder have been trying to figure out for years."

"Do you?" Scully sneered.

"You'll have to trust me on that, Dana," he said with a small smile.

She gave a resigned sigh. "Okay, what do you know?"

The smile grew wider. "Everything. Everything you and Mulder ever dreamed of knowing, and more. And..." He paused for dramatic effect. "It's all yours for the asking."

She just stared at him for a full minute, deciding whether or not she dared ask the question she knew he wanted her to ask. <What do I have to do for that information?> she asked herself. <And why wouldn't he tell me about the deal before? What does he have in that twisted mind of his?> Finally, almost dreading the answer, she asked, "So what do you want from me?"

Krycek grinned at her now, and she suddenly understood what mice must feel like when they see the predatory cat coiling to pounce. "I want you to have sex with me," he said.

Again she felt a twinge between her legs, more insistent this time, but she managed to bury the feeling. "Now I know you're insane!" she cried. "Why the hell would I make a deal like that? It's not enough that you rape me --"

"I didn't rape you."

"You think I *wanted* that?" She stared at him in shocked amazement.

"I think you needed it. Very badly."

With a cry of fury, she sent her makeup organizer flying toward his head. He watched it hit the wall, sending cosmetics showering all over the bed, then picked up the lipstick that landed on the pillow next to him. "Sorry, not my color," he deadpanned.

"Pig!" she snarled.

"So you're saying you didn't need it?" Krycek mused. "Then you must've wanted it very badly."

Scully breathed deeply, trying both to get her fury under control and to keep her body from reacting to the flashes of very recent memory that kept assaulting her brain. "I never consented," she said through clenched teeth.

He shrugged. "Rationalize it any way you want if it makes you feel better. But I think any doctor would have a damn hard time finding physical evidence of anything other than consensual sex. And from where I sit, initiating the first kiss, not saying anything that even remotely resembled 'no,' responding so readily, and all those orgasms -- and they were really good ones, weren't they? -- add up to you being a very willing participant."

<When he lays it out like that... NO! STOP thinking like that!> "Too much wine," she offered. "Diminished capacity. I did *not* want that."

Krycek mulled this over for a moment. "Possible," he admitted. "But don't they say that alcohol depresses sexual response...?"

The warmth in her lower body suggested that there was nothing at all depressed about her sexual response. But... what was that he said about how easy it was to make someone come? Didn't mean a thing. Not a single thing. She sighed heavily. "Nothing I say is going to make a bit of difference to you, is it?"

He favored her with that killer grin and gave a small "oh-well" shrug. "Not one iota."

A sense of doom settled over her at this. Nothing she said mattered. Nothing she did mattered. Even if she called the cops or her partner, Krycek wouldn't be prosecuted for what he'd done. He'd find some way to twist around what happened to ensure that. Besides, like he said, there probably wouldn't be any physical evidence. Sure, she was a little sore, but she suspected that he hadn't left any bruises. Nothing to pin this -- or any other crime, really, not even breaking and entering -- on him. She was trapped.

<It isn't the lack of physical evidence that's keeping you from calling somebody or blowing his head off, is it?> that little rebellious part of her mind asked.

Immediately squashing that thought, Scully looked up at the man in her bed... and noticed something odd. She thought back. Had he used his left hand since he'd been in her apartment? Not much during dinner, but that didn't mean anything; maybe only that he was right- handed. Later? She remembered both his hands on her body while they were dancing, but one much more than the other. Which one, the right? She wasn't sure. And she was pretty sure he'd done all those (<wonderful, right? just incredible>) things to her with only the one hand...

Willing the unwelcome arousal away, she watched her similarly unwelcome guest for another moment through narrowed eyes. Yes, there was definitely something strange about that left arm... "What's wrong with your arm?" she heard herself ask, even as she asked herself why she cared.

His grin vanished at her words and darkness clouded his green eyes. "Nothing!" he snapped.

Oh, yes, she'd touched a nerve. Curious now, she leaned forward a little, trying to figure out just what about his left arm seemed... off. "Nothing?" she asked. "Bothers you an awful lot for nothing."

He stared back at her for a few moments, his eyes dark and unreadable, before apparently reaching a decision. "Okay, fine," he snarled. "You want to see it? Fine." He pressed at a spot near his shoulder, and the next thing Scully knew, his left arm, detached from the shoulder, was lying on the bed next to him. "*That's* what's wrong with it, okay?"

She gasped as a tale Mulder had told her came rushing back to her; a tale of tests and a gulag in the former Soviet Union. Her partner's words were burned into her memory: no arm, no test. "Russia?" she breathed.

Krycek stared defensively at her for another long moment. "Yeah, Russia," he said, bitterness clearly evident in his voice. "A little souvenir from your partner."

"It wasn't Mulder's fault."

"Whatever. Doesn't matter anyway," he mumbled, with a look that told her it still mattered very much.

Curiosity and her Hippocratic oath temporarily overriding her anger, Scully found herself approaching the bed. "Can I look at it?" she asked, tentatively reaching toward his shoulder.

His eyes met hers again, then he turned his head away, giving her license to look at whatever she wanted.

Giving a low whistle, she bent to examine the arm and the exposed stump. The arm lying on the bed was a prosthetic like she'd never seen before. Except for the fact that it wasn't attached to a body, it looked completely, totally lifelike, right down to the hair on the very natural-looking skin. The limb even felt warm; not quite body- temperature, but she suspected it would be when properly attached. She now remembered that hand stroking her breast, circling her nipple, teasing it...

Scully shook the memory out of her head and concentrated on the prosthetic again. Obviously it gave him the ability to move the fingers independently of each other; if it hadn't, she would've noticed much sooner that the hand wasn't real. Still... she'd felt it on her body. How could she *not* tell that it wasn't real? No prosthetic made anywhere on earth -- at least to her knowledge -- offered its owner that type of freedom. Who had built this thing? And how?

She carefully picked the arm up, finding that it weighed just about the same as a natural limb would. Krycek obviously felt the weight difference now that it was detached -- he was leaning heavily on his right arm to support himself and stay upright. Scully turned her attention back to the arm. It even felt natural, right down to the texture of the skin. The only things unnatural about it were the short metal rods sticking out from the center of it, which had to be what connected it to the shoulder.

Putting the arm down, she bent to examine his shoulder. The amputation had been a messy one, but it was obvious that he had had further surgery other than what was needed to attach the prosthetic. And surgery had definitely been necessary to attach the thing. There was now a round metal plate embedded in what remained of his shoulder, with wells to accommodate the rods in the arm. She started to run her finger gently around the edge of the plate, but stopped when Krycek gasped harshly and flinched away from her touch. He'd let her look, but didn't want her to touch. "Where in the world did this thing come from?" she asked, backing off a bit.

He cast a sidelong glance at her, but wouldn't face her. "Russian technology in some areas isn't quite as backward as the rest of the world thinks," he said at length.

An appropriate non-answer. "So how does it work?"

Now he turned toward her and studied her face, assessing her interest. For a moment she thought he wasn't going to tell her anything at all, but then he hefted the prosthetic in his right hand and slowly started to speak. "There's sensors in the plate that tap into electrical impulses in the muscles and nerve endings that're left. These rods here plug in like this..." He fitted the arm to his shoulder and pushed a little, and Scully saw him wince and bite his lip as she heard the rods click into place. "...and the computer chips in 'em pick up the information from the sensors and use it to work the artificial nerves and muscles down here." He lifted a flap of synthetic skin from where it lay folded against the prosthetic, and smoothed it around the connection site. "Watertight seal, and there you go." He flexed the artificial hand. "Nobody'd ever know."

"Amazing." Without thinking, Scully ran her finger gently down his forearm, and immediately noticed two things. First, the limb was warm now, brought up to body temperature now that it was attached. Second...

Almost as soon as she touched him, Krycek jerked his arm away from her. The implication wasn't lost on Scully. "You *felt* that?" she asked in disbelief.

Again he studied her before answering. "I can feel almost everything with this thing," he finally offered. "Dexterity with the hand's pretty good too. Not perfect, but damn close."

Scully's mind whirled. How could something like this exist? The technology just wasn't possible... "How --" she began.

"I told you," he interrupted. "Advanced technology." The look in his eyes almost dared her to ask another question, but she decided that it was probably wiser not to.

She decided to go a different route instead. "Does it hurt much?" There was obviously some pain; his reaction both when she touched the stump and when he reattached the prosthetic made that pretty clear.

Now his eyes turned hard. "Not much," he said, bitterness clearly evident in his voice. "It's only excruciating."

The look in his eyes and the tone of his voice brought reason back to her mind. He was bitter? After what he'd done? "Good! You deserve it!" she spat, then retreated to her chair.

He sighed heavily. "Can we get back to the deal now, please?"

"Why? The answer's no."

"You didn't even hear the terms yet."

"I've heard enough. No."

Krycek took a deep breath. "Dana, how many men have shared this bed with you over the last five years?"

She felt her earlier fury start to build again. "That's none of your business!"

"Just as I thought. Three... or less."

<Pig,> she thought.

"On the other hand... you were much too responsive. Two... or less. Probably less."

Scully could only stare at him, quietly seething.

"Are you *sure* you want to throw my offer away? I mean, nobody else seems to be offering --"

"Give me one good reason not to blow your head off right now," she interrupted, desperate to get off that subject.

Now he grinned at her. "I'll give you two. One, your gun's out in the other room, and I bet I could beat you out there. I think you know it too. Two, if I die, Mulder's answers die with me. Is avenging your honor worth losing that?"

She looked down at her hands, now folded in her lap. Was it really fair to Mulder to just reject this deal without even hearing the specifics? It wouldn't be... if Krycek's information panned out.

"He'd never forgive you," Krycek went on.

Damn him for holding that over her head! He was right, though. If Mulder knew she threw away the opportunity to find answers without even listening to the whole thing, he'd be very upset. And they knew that Krycek had answers. But... would he let her do what Krycek wanted her to do? No. Absolutely not. No matter how good it felt...

<No! Stop! Doesn't matter how good it felt; it was rape, it was wrong, I don't want to do it again, I really really really don't...> Despite the thoughts, she had to squeeze her legs together against the twinge she felt deep inside. "Talk," she whispered.

Though she was still looking down at her hands, she could hear the smile in his voice. "Okay, here's the deal. Every time we have sex, you get some piece of information. It might be from that digital tape Mulder's still looking for, or from my own experience, or whatever. Wherever it's from, whatever it is, it'll be a small part of the larger puzzle --"

"And just how many pieces are there to this puzzle?" Scully asked, almost against her better judgment.

"As many as I... or you... want there to be. Could be thousands. Now, you could feed the information to Mulder as you get each piece, or you can wait and collect a couple before giving them to him. Doesn't matter. If I know Mulder, he'll act on what he hears whether it makes sense or not, so use your best judgment. I should probably tell you up front that exceptional performance on your end will yield more and/or better information for Ol' Spooky. He --"

"Wait a second," Scully interrupted. "Not only are you making me sleep with you, you're grading my performance too?" <How sick is this going to get?>

Krycek flashed that killer grin at her. "I'm not making you do anything, Dana," he said smoothly. "It's your choice. Completely up to you. You might want to know that tonight's performance would've gotten you bonus points. Quite a few, actually."

<For what? I didn't do anything. I wonder if putting up more of a fight would've earned bonus points too?> "So I'm supposed to just sit here and wait until you decide you need sex, and then I get information?" she asked. "Why not just rape me again? You didn't need consent before; why do you need it now?"

He gave an exaggerated sigh. "Dana, Dana, Dana. You didn't say no. I didn't rape you. And frankly, I'd rather not --"

"You didn't have a problem with it tonight!"

"I didn't rape you," he continued as if he hadn't heard her, "and I won't in the future. If you'd just listen to the rest of the terms, you'll see that."

"You mean there's more?" <*Now* what?>

"Not more, more like... a clarification," he said. "You have it all backwards. This isn't based on when I want sex. I told you, it's all your choice; completely up to you."

"So what does that mean?" Despite her resistance to the whole idea, a small part of her couldn't wait to see what else he came up with.

"That means that I won't say another word about it. You see, I need to know that you really *want* the information. You will tell me when *you* want sex. You have to initiate. Each time you do, you'll get information. I won't touch you unless you tell me to. You can make this deal take as much or as little time as you want. You control how much information you get, when, and how often. You can even control how each encounter goes if you want -- creativity is always a plus. If you don't want, I'm more than happy to do it... and I think you might like having the benefit of my experience..."

Scully could only stare at him in amazement as he spoke; thoughts swirling through her mind at about 500 mph. "You sick, sadistic bastard!" she cried. "How can you even *think*... I could *never*... you expect me to... I can't, I won't! No! Just... just... no!"

Krycek waited until her confused ramblings stopped. "Are you sure, Dana?" he asked. "Sure you don't want to know everything? Sure you want to withhold your partner's sister from him?" His voice became low and seductive now, like it had been while they were dancing, and his intense gaze locked on hers. "Sure you don't want to have sex like that anymore? Sure you don't need it? C'mon, admit it. Better than eating bees, wasn't it? How good did that feel, anyway? Must've felt awfully good for you to come three times like that--"

"Stop!" Scully closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm herself and slow her breathing, while trying to beat back the memories and her body's reaction to his words. <Damn him for knowing what buttons to push!> she thought. <Samantha, Samantha... he knows where Samantha is. Doesn't he? Does he? Will anything he says even be true? He's given us nothing but lies till now, why should this be different? What if it is different? How will we know? Can I ever... Oh, God, can I really do that? I can't, I know I can't...>

"I don't know if I --" she began softly.

"You can do it," Krycek told her. "It's not really that hard, is it? You did fine before..."

She could only sit there trembling.

"After all, everybody has somebody who drives them so wild they'd do just about anything," he continued.

Breathing faster, she lifted her eyes to his. "The fact that *you* could do that to me makes my skin crawl."

He laughed softly. "What did I tell you about how easy it is to make someone come?"

"You really are insane."

"Thank you. Now will you please answer the question?"

"What question?"

"Deal. Yes or no?"

She bit her lip and lowered her eyes. "I... I need more information."

He sat up straighter, interested now. "What do you need to know?"

"If I say..." She found it incredibly hard to get the words out. She found it even harder to believe that she was actually considering this. "If I say yes, will you at least use condoms?"

"No."

She looked up, incredulous. In this day and age, how could anybody refuse to? "Not even for your own protection?"

He fixed an amused gaze on her. "Dana. Do I really have to?"

She lowered her eyes, feeling her cheeks redden.

"Didn't think so," he said with a chuckle. "My deal, my rules. Don't like 'em, never did, so no, I'm not going to use them. Next?"

"We can't even talk about --"

"Non-negotiable. Next?"

<My choice, huh? Completely up to me, huh? None of this is my choice. My only choice is...> "What happens if I say no?" she heard herself ask.

His only response was a shrug.

"Will you kill me?"

"No."

"Kill Mulder?"

"No."

Scully inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. If he wasn't going to kill her or her partner, how bad could it be? But... could she take the chance that he really had no plans to kill them?

Krycek's voice, his tone speculative, cut through her thoughts. "Did you ever wonder where the expression 'fate worse than death' came from?"

She gaped at him in horror. "You wouldn't!"

He shrugged. "Never said I would, did I? But... I also never said I wouldn't..."

"Dammit, stop being so cryptic!" she shouted. "Just answer the question! What happens if I say no?"

Krycek met her gaze for a long moment, and this time she didn't back down. "Don't think about what might or might not happen if you say no," he finally said. "Let the deal stand on its own merits. Which would you rather have? All the answers you could ever possibly want and lots more of those 3-orgasm sexual encounters? Or... more endless years of the same lonely life and unanswered questions you've had for the last five years?"

Scully continued to glare at him; her mind desperately wanting to say no, her body suggesting a different answer. If she said no, there would be consequences. She was sure of that. Alex Krycek was not the type of person who could set up an elaborate deal like this and then just blow out of town if it was refused. No, he had something up his sleeve. What was it? Whatever it was, she was sure it would be bad for her, Mulder, or both. <My choice?> she asked herself. <I have no choice here. He didn't leave me one.> "You really won't touch me unless I say you can?"

"That's right."

"What assurance do I have of that?"

He favored her with a warm smile. "Just my word. You're going to have to trust me, aren't you?"

Again she just glared at him.

Krycek sighed heavily. "Look at it this way, Dana. I have alternatives; you don't. I can go just about anywhere for sex. You can't go anywhere else for this information. Who has to trust who here?"

"If you can go just about anywhere for sex, why here? Why me?"

He shrugged and grinned at her. "I like you. So... do we have a deal?"

<You hate me. You hate Mulder, and you're getting back at him through me. By blackmailing, humiliating, and degrading me. You hate me.> "How do I know that this information of yours is any good?"

"Guess you're going to have to trust me on that too. Do we have a deal?"

Scully desperately wanted to say no, but again her brain was assaulted by memories of what had happened. Memories of how it felt to have someone pay attention to her, to do things to her that she hadn't experienced in so long... Her body reacted strongly to the memories and she felt a sudden rush of warmth in her lower body. <No, no, stop, I *don't* need it, I *don't* want it -->

"Remember what happened before, Dana." The low, seductive voice caressed her ears even from across the room, and she remembered. "Remember how good it felt. If I only wanted to satisfy myself, it would've gone a lot differently, but that wasn't how it happened. I focused on your pleasure. It can be that way from now on, Dana. Every time. You want that, don't you? You want what I'm offering... you need it..."

A soft moan escaped her lips as the memories swept through her brain and the ache between her legs intensified. "Yes..." she whispered.

"You want it? We have a deal?"

"Yes..." she sighed, caught up in her memories and the feelings in her own body. "Oh, yes..."

"Good. We have a deal. Don't suppose you'd like to shake on it?"

Krycek's words and the change in his tone made her eyes snap open and all other thought fled from her mind. <Oh, God, I said yes, didn't I? I didn't want to, didn't mean to... This is not happening, this is not happening...>

"You're not reconsidering, are you?"

She looked up at him, and the sudden, vivid memory of his thickness sliding deeply into her sent a jolt through her body. She opened her mouth to speak a few times, but couldn't find anything to say. <Doesn't matter anyway, does it?> she asked herself. <He tricked me into saying yes; he'll take that as my final answer no matter what I say now. Maybe I just shouldn't fight it. Mulder does need what he knows...> "No, I'm not reconsidering," she said quietly, not believing that was her own voice saying the words. "We have a deal."

"Good. Turn out the light when you're done, will you?" Krycek slid down under the covers and turned over.

Scully could only stare at him. "You're staying here?" she asked in disbelief.

He opened his eyes. "Of course I'm staying here. If I were somewhere else, this deal would never get off the ground. Who knows? Maybe proximity might help you warm up to the idea."

Her mind whirled. She'd just agreed to be his sex slave, and now he expected her to let him stay in her apartment? Again she had no choice; she just knew he wasn't going to leave, no matter what. Still... <Can't he at least allow me some privacy right now to adjust to the idea of the deal? He doesn't expect to be with me every minute, does he? Some lines have to be drawn. Right now...> "Get out of my bed."

Krycek turned over to face her. "What, after all we shared?"

"Get *out*! I'm *not* sleeping in the guest room or on the sofa in my own home and I'm *not* sleeping with you!"

"Didn't you already?"

"GET OUT!"

"No."

That one word was all it took. She knew he wouldn't move, just as she knew he wouldn't leave her apartment. Her anger melted away and all she was left with was deep fatigue. She'd had a long day, she was tired, and she didn't feel up to fighting anymore.

"Tell you what," Krycek said. "I'll take the wet spot."

Scully stared at him for a long moment, then gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine. Just *fine*. But if you so much as breathe on me tonight, you *will* die. Clear?"

"As crystal," he said, watching her slide under the covers, as far away from him as possible.

She snapped off the light and settled down to sleep. A moment later she heard his soft voice in the dark. "You don't snore, do you?"

<Die, bastard. Just die and leave me alone.> "No, and if you do, I'll shoot you."

A soft laugh. "This could turn out to be even more fun than I thought."

The first thing that registered in Alex Krycek's consciousness the next morning was the earthquake. Series of earthquakes, really, each lasting only a second or two. He sat up like a shot, instantly on alert, quickly analyzing the unfamiliar surroundings... until he remembered where he was. His gaze settled on one very pissed off redhead, standing at the foot of the bed and kicking the mattress. "Morning," he purred.

"Get up," Scully snarled at him.

Krycek stretched slowly, working some of the post-sleep lethargy out of his muscles. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this good. Last night had gone exactly the way he'd envisioned it: perfectly executed plan, great sex... and acceptance of his deal. What more could a guy want? He was even a little surprised at how easy it had been. Hardly a challenge for his considerable seduction skills. Although the night had been meticulously planned, he'd been prepared for much more of a fight. The little redhead must've been really starved for it to have reacted the way she did, which took a little of the fun out of it, but she'd more than made up for it later. Encounters with the inexperienced didn't often make for mind- blowing sex, but the trade-off was that they tended to provide a considerable ego boost. He wondered idly how long it would take until the words "best sex I ever had" crossed her lips.

Yeah, for a change, life was good. And playing with Dana Scully's head for however long this deal took could only make it better. He stretched again before flopping back against the pillows. "Been a long time since I crashed in a place this nice," he sighed. "I'm sleeping in."

"I said, get up!" she demanded.

He settled in more comfortably and laughed softly. "Make me."

Scully turned away with a frustrated sound and started searching the room for her shoes as Krycek slipped further under the covers and nestled down into the pillows. Another interesting fact to file away about Dana Scully: she had a thing for pillows. There had to be six or eight of the things bunched at the top of the king-size bed. He chuckled to himself as a number of uses for all those pillows floated through his head.

He wasn't even aware that he'd fallen asleep again until he felt another mattress-quake. "What now?" he moaned, slowly rolling over onto his back.

"Get up."

"I already told you I'm sleeping in," he sighed, closing his eyes again and wishing she'd just go away. Sleep was something he hadn't had a whole lot of in recent weeks, and the last thing he needed was for her to keep waking him up. "Aren't you late or something? Go to work. Time to go out and save the world from people like me." Shooing her off to work seemed safe, since he was reasonably sure she wouldn't tell Mulder what had happened. She had obviously enjoyed the sex. On some level she'd realize that, and that she'd consented, and it would keep her from telling her partner.

"First I need to save myself from people like you," she said, approaching the bed. "Give me your arm."

Anything to make her shut up and leave him in peace. He obediently offered his left one, but she slapped it away. "The real one," she said impatiently.

Krycek sighed heavily and sat up halfway, watching her set out equipment necessary for drawing blood. "You actually listened to me last night, huh? I'm impressed."

"Believe me, I would've done this with or without your permission. Make a fist, please?" She probed his inner elbow in search of a vein, then swabbed the area and sank the needle into the vein she'd found. He was unable to stifle a small hiss of pain, and didn't miss her small, gratified smile. Might as well let her have her petty little thrills for now. She'd learn soon enough. "This deal goes nowhere unless these tests come back clean," she said. "All of them. That's also non- negotiable."

"Fair enough." He watched with growing discomfort as she filled first one tube, then another, then switched to a third empty one. "Jesus, how much do you need? What are you, a vampire?"

She offered a tight smile. "I'm doing a lot of tests. I need a lot of blood. Do you have a problem with that?"

<Yeah, I do. You'll claim to find evidence of some disease you made up to try to get out of the deal...> He glared at her but said nothing.

Scully stopped once the third tube was filled, and Krycek quickly burrowed back under the covers as she packed up her equipment. Her voice interruped him again before he could get really comfortable. "You're not done yet, buster."

"Jesus, now what?" He turned over again and opened his eyes to find the little redhead holding a covered specimen cup out to him. He groaned audibly. "Oh, for --"

"No tests, no deal," she said firmly. "Do it."

"I agreed to blood tests, not that."

"Sorry, but blood tests just don't tell the whole story." Her face was the picture of innocence, but he just knew she was grinning like the Cheshire cat inside. "If you want your precious deal, do it."

<Suka,> he thought, glaring at her.

"That's what you get for not wearing a condom," she continued, a wicked gleam coming into her eyes.

"Fine," he snarled, snatching the cup out of her hand. "Just *fine*. If I do this, will you leave me alone?" He slid out of bed and sauntered toward the bathroom, fully aware that he was still naked and that his nakedness had an effect on the redhead. It wasn't until after he closed the bathroom door that he heard her voice again.

"Leave you alone? In my own home? If you want to sleep, you go somewhere else."

"Bitch," he muttered to himself. If this was how she was going to be, it was almost enough to make him re-think the deal. Almost, but not quite. He had control over practically every aspect of the deal, which had to bother her. If making him pee into a cup made her feel (albeit falsely) like she had some sort of control, then so be it. Letting her feel like she was putting one over on him would make her easier to control in the long run.

He left the covered cup on the bathroom counter and was just sliding back under the covers when Scully came back into the bedroom with a Ziploc bag. "Any other bodily fluids you want samples of?" he asked. "Better tell me now."

She sealed the cup in the bag and stowed it away with the vials of blood. "No, I think this will do."

"You sure? There's one you can help with. C'mon, it'll be fun..."

He saw the slight shudder that ran through her and laughed. "No, thank you," she said quietly. "This is fine."

"Good." Krycek burrowed deeper under the covers. "You'd better get going. Spooky'll be mad if you're late." Though his eyes were closed, he could feel her staring at him, willing him to get up. Smiling to himself, he settled in more comfortably. Just let her try to get him to move.

"Fine, sleep now," she told him. "But you'd better get out before tonight. I want you gone by the time I get back."

He laughed softly. "What are you going to do, shoot me?"

He felt the weight of her stare for a moment longer before she left with a frustrated sigh.

Scully stood outside the basement office, contemplating the door, for a full five minutes. <Special Agent Fox Mulder>, the lone nameplate read. <Where's mine?> she found herself thinking, not for the first time. <Where's the nameplate that tells the world that Special Agent Dana Scully exists? He could've at least gotten me a nameplate. Aren't we equals? We must be; I finally have a desk. Of course, I had to ask for it. And he still thinks that was just about a desk...>

She wasn't ready to face anyone yet, least of all her partner. She'd slept only fitfully, awakened every so often by bizarre dreams. The one she remembered most clearly saw her having wild, passionate sex with Alex Krycek on her sister's grave as an angry mob closed in around them. She soon realized that the mob was made up of her family and friends; Mulder, demanding to know where his sister was, leading her sobbing mother. She screamed in ecstasy just as Krycek pushed over the headstone so all could see both Samantha Mulder's and Melissa Scully's names on it, while her father stood off to the side, shaking his head sadly.

Scully didn't need any Freudian analyst to tell her what that dream meant. It was the look on her father's face that summed the whole thing up for her. He'd be so disappointed if he knew what she'd done last night. Everyone she knew would. How could she ever face her family again? Or her partner? Well, she had to face him, but it wouldn't be easy.

She had awakened with a splitting headache, courtesy of all the wine she'd had the night before, and a strong resolve to tell Mulder what had happened. Her resolve was starting to weaken, though, now that she realized that he'd have questions. He'd ask her about her hangover. He'd want to know why she hadn't called him last night. And he'd want to know why she let her rapist sleep in her bed.

Her eyes returning to the single nameplate on the door, she placed a trembling hand on the door knob. "Mulder may have his weak points," she murmured under her breath, "but he's all I've got." She took a deep breath and entered the office.

Special Agent Fox Mulder was leaning back in his desk chair, feet up on the desk, engrossed in the file on his lap. He didn't even look up as she closed the door; instead addressing her as he flipped through the pages of the file. "Hey, Scully, wanna see something really interesting?"

Scully slipped quietly behind her own desk and turned on her computer, her mind barely registering her partner's words. He seemed to be expecting a reply, but she had no real idea what he'd said. "New case, Mulder?" That seemed safe.

"No, I've been going through some of the old files and I found out..." His voice trailed off when he realized that she hadn't assumed her usual position next to his desk. Scully watched him glance at the clock, hoping that he wouldn't comment on the fact that it was 9:20, more than a half hour later than she usually came in and just plain late, a rarity for her.

He didn't comment, much to her relief, but his eyes moved from the clock to her face, studying her. Finally he said, "You look tired, Scully. Feeling okay?"

That was the only concession he made to her recently diagnosed cancer -- the occasional question about how she was feeling. Beyond that, he never mentioned it, and didn't give her opportunity to talk about it if she might want to. At first that had been okay with her -- she was in denial herself for a short while. But now, as the reality that she really did have The Big C (and terminal, at that) started to seep in, she felt a growing need to talk about it. With Mulder? Not a chance.

Mulder's voice cut through her thoughts. "Scully?"

She shook her head slightly and focused on her partner. "I'm fine, Mulder. I just... didn't get much sleep last night." <Aren't you going to tell him why?> she immediately asked herself.

Mulder's lips curved into a smirk. "New boyfriend, Scully?"

She looked up sharply. "What?"

"Simple deduction," he went on. "You didn't sleep much last night, but you say you're fine. Ergo, something else kept you awake. Or someone. Must be a new boyfriend."

She could only stare at him in shock.

"Must've been really good, too. You haven't heard a word I've said since you walked in here. So... anybody I know?"

It didn't occur to her until much later that Mulder, uncomfortable as he was with her illness, was probably only trying to lighten things up. But in her current frame of mind, the question registered as rude and terribly intrusive. "For your information, Mulder," she huffed indignantly, "my private life is exactly that. *Private*. What I do during my off hours and who I do it with is none of your business!"

"Sorry, Scully," he said, a little taken aback. "I was just concerned. I mean, the last time you had a date, it was with some psycho with a talking tattoo --"

"Are you insinuating that I'm incapable of dating normal men?"

"No, but --"

"I'm not allowed to have a life like other people?"

"I didn't say --"

"And if you *must* know, I didn't have a date last night, nor do I have a new boyfriend, if that makes you feel better. But even if I did, and even if my new boyfriend did keep me up all night, it's still none of your business! Is that clear?"

Mulder tapped a pen against the file in his lap and just looked at her. Finally he said, "Guess it wasn't that good after all, huh?"

If she didn't get away from him, she just knew she was going to hit him. Remembering the samples in her bag, she rose from her desk. "If you're finished analyzing my sex life now, I have some work to do. That is what we get paid for, isn't it?"

She had just touched the doorknob when he asked, "Where will you be, in case I need to find you?"

<Anywhere but here.> "Having a quickie with my new boyfriend in the janitor's closet. Knock before you barge in, okay?" she tossed over her shoulder as she left.

It wasn't until she was halfway to the lab that Scully realized that she'd probably taken everything Mulder had said completely the wrong way. She knew he wouldn't talk about the cancer, so he'd probably thought of his question as a lighter way to make sure she was feeling all right. Still, even if he hadn't meant it that way, the question struck a nerve. She could still hear the sarcasm in his voice during that phone call while she was in Philadelphia: "What, do you have a *date*?" Just because he hadn't had a date in the five years she'd known him didn't mean that she had to follow his example, did it?

<Wait a minute,> she told herself. <How can what happened with Krycek last night compare to a date? That was no date, it was rape. And now I can't even tell Mulder about it. He'd just make some silly remark...>

Somewhere deep down, though, she knew Mulder wouldn't make light of the situation if she told him about it. On the other hand... what would Krycek do if she told her partner? He'd be arrested, so it wouldn't matter, would it? But that meant no information. No answers. No Samantha. No sex...

She squelched that thought immediately. What Krycek might do did indeed matter. He'd be out of jail before she had the chance to throw his stuff out of her apartment, because physical evidence would back up his story. Without that on her side, it was her word against his, and although she knew her colleagues would believe her, she couldn't count on a jury doing the same. Krycek was smooth, charming, and an extremely convincing liar. He'd have a jury eating out of his hand. And once he was acquitted, he'd come after her for sure.

Why risk that? Better to keep last night's activities to herself and go through with the deal. Better to get what she could from him while he was offering. Better to stay on Krycek's good side and insure that the sex came on her terms, not his...

She shook those thoughts out of her head and pushed open the door to the lab, startling the lab's lone occupant. Agent Pendrell looked up at her with big, round eyes for a moment before a huge grin spread across his face, making him look all of about twelve years old. "Agent Scully! What brings you down here?"

Scully smiled to herself, glad that he was the one on duty today. She couldn't help but think of Pendrell as everybody's goofy kid brother, and it was impossible not to like him. Besides that, he did top-notch work, more often than not going above and beyond what was asked. He was the perfect person to help her out with the list of blood tests she wanted to perform. "Morning, Agent Pendrell," she returned. "Are you busy?"

He immediately slammed shut the two file folders he had open in front of him and pushed the microscope away. "Not at all. What can I do for you?"

"If you're busy I can come back --"

"No!" Pendrell jumped up, as if to block her exit, then smiled sheepishly when she stopped and looked at him in surprise. "Really, I'm not busy," he assured her. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Why couldn't the rest of the men in her life be so agreeable? "Well... yes," she said slowly, only then realizing that she hadn't formulated any sort of cover story. "There's some blood tests I need to perform, and I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure! Just tell me what you want me to do."

After dealing with pigheaded creatures like Krycek and Mulder, Pendrell was definitely a breath of fresh air. Scully handed him a vial of blood and a list of the tests she felt it safe to have him take care of. "When do you think these can be ready?"

Pendrell looked over his list thoughtfully. "Is tomorrow afternoon okay?"

"Perfect." The results of the tests she would do herself -- the ones she couldn't possibly explain to Pendrell -- would be ready by then, too. "Could you deliver the results directly to me?" she asked. "It would be better if you didn't leave them on my desk or give them to Agent Mulder..." Her voice trailed off. <Nitwit. Now he's going to ask why...>

Pendrell was already getting his equipment ready. "So this isn't for a case?" he asked casually.

<Think, Dana, think...> "Well... It relates to an old case... sort of..." she said slowly. "But it's really more of a... personal favor." She paused for a moment, then, in a small voice, "Do you mind?"

"Of course not. I'll get the report right into your hands before you leave here tomorrow, okay?"

She heaved an inward sigh of relief. "Thank you, Agent Pendrell. I really appreciate this."

"My pleasure, Agent Scully." He practically beamed at her.

They both settled quietly down to work, and when she heard the lab door open, Scully looked at her watch and was surprised to find that more than two hours had passed. She didn't even have to turn around to know who the visitor was.

"There you are," Mulder said from the doorway.

She sighed heavily. "Yes, Mulder, here I am."

"Y'know, I even knocked at the door of the janitor's closet before I went in, but you weren't there."

<No kidding.> "I've been here. *Working*, like I told you."

"Want to grab some lunch?"

Scully sighed again. "No, Mulder, I'm busy."

He came up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "Checking up on the new boyfriend?"

She whirled around to face him. "Excuse me?" She barely noticed that Pendrell's head came up at the question, too.

"Smart move, Scully," Mulder went on, looking over the papers she had spread out next to the microscope. "Why trust what he says when you can find out for yourself, right?" He leaned in conspiratorially. "Of course, you being a doctor and all... you were careful, weren't you?"

"Mulder, that's enough!"

To his credit, he actually did shut up.

"There isn't any new boyfriend and I'm not 'checking up' on anyone," she fumed. "I'm *working* -- real work -- which is more than I can say for you this morning. Now, if you don't mind --"

"Is this related to a case?" Irritating Juvenile Mulder was replaced by Professional Mulder in an instant.

"Of course."

"Which one? And how come I don't know about this?"

Uh-oh. Now how was she supposed to bluff her way out of this? She wasn't lying, but she couldn't tell him what case it really related to... "Philadelphia," she said quickly. "I, um..." Her voice trailed off as she studied Mulder's reaction. He was slightly taken aback, but he let her continue. Good choice, then. "I wanted to do further study on the blood samples. I think there might be something the original blood work missed."

"Oh." Mulder took a step back and looked her over, making her decidedly uncomfortable. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"I..." Scully turned slightly and caught Pendrell looking at her, whereupon he immediately dropped his eyes back to his microscope. Pendrell would never question what she'd told him, would he? He had to know she was lying either to him or to Mulder. She could only pray that he wouldn't blow her cover. "It's nothing that needs to go into the files," she finally said. "It's just... something I needed to know. It's... well, it's sort of personal..."

Her voice trailed off as Mulder leaned forward and studied the top sheet of paper. He tapped one line on it. "I thought you said you and Jerse didn't --"

She zipped the sheet out from under his hand. "We didn't. Now if you're finished..."

"If you didn't," Mulder interrupted, "why are you testing --"

"To the uninitiated," Scully cut in, "the terminology used in blood testing makes a lot of tests look similar." She looked her partner straight in the eye. "The tests aren't always what they look like."

Mulder stepped back and again studied her. "My mistake," he said at length. "I'm sorry."

<He knows. Just tell him. Go ahead, he'll believe you...> "Mulder, I..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

She tried to meet his eyes, but found that she couldn't. "Have a good lunch," she finally said.

"Guess I'll see you later, then." He paused with a hand on the doorknob. "You're not skipping meals, are you, Scully? You know you're not supposed to..."

Now she looked up, surprised at this blatant expression of concern for her health. "No, I'm not."

"Good." Mulder opened the door. "Have a good lunch with the boyfriend, then."

"Dammit, Mulder..." Scully whirled toward the door, but her partner was already gone, and Pendrell was looking at her questioningly. "He's just... joking..." she explained weakly.

"Of course, Agent Scully," he said immediately, but he too took a long look at her before returning to his work.

Scully spread her papers out again and bent back to her microscope with but one thought in mind. <Alex Krycek is a dead man.>

Russian translation (maybe not necessary now, but later on context won't help as much):
Suka - bitch

Part Three

As hard as she tried to avoid going home, Scully could delay it no longer. After she'd finished in the lab, she'd accomplished a lot of other work during the day in an effort to keep her thoughts as far as possible from the events of the previous night. She had been successful -- too successful, in fact. Her focused efficiency during the day had made short work of the stack of paperwork on her desk, leaving her with nothing more to do. Mulder's remarks about the source of her new-found energy continued to get on her nerves. She could take a joke as well as the next person, but he was carrying it too far. She'd thought he was sensitive enough to know when enough was enough, but apparently she'd thought wrong. Not only was it embarrassing and annoying; it also made her more and more sure that she couldn't tell him what had happened. Once she reached the point where she either had to leave or hit him, she realized she had no choice but to go home.

With each block she drove, she sent up a silent prayer that Krycek would be gone when she got home. She even managed to half convince herself that what she thought had happened had really been a nightmare.

<Nightmare, Dana?> that little rebellious part of her mind piped up. <Or is dream a better word?>

"No," Scully said firmly, hardly aware that she was speaking aloud. "Even if it was real, it was a nightmare."

<Really? When was the last time a man made love to you like that?>

"He didn't make love to me. He raped me."

<Then why didn't you tell Mulder? He would've sympathized; would've even stopped making those crude remarks. Could it be, maybe... you enjoyed it?>

"NO!" Scully pounded her fist on the steering wheel. "I did *not* enjoy it." Even as she said the words, utterly delicious sensations from the previous night came back to her, and a completely unwelcome warmth spread through her lower body. "He just knew what buttons to push. Like he said, it's just as easy as making someone scream."

<Oh, come on. Three orgasms, just from knowing what buttons to push? Not likely. Admit it, you loved how it felt when he touched you. Feeling him inside you drove you wild.>

"NO!"

<Face it, if it were any other man, you'd be half in love with him already.>

"I don't base my relationships on sex. I would never fall in love with somebody just because he's great in bed."

<And he was great, wasn't he? Best you ever had.>

"So what?" She became aware that the driver of the car in the lane next to her was looking at her funny, and she glared at him until he sped up and passed her. "It was just sex," she said firmly. "Meaningless sex."

<The State of Denial must be a nice place to live, Dana.>

"Denial? I'm not in denial. It meant nothing. I didn't tell Mulder because... well, Krycek would find some way to twist it around so... it looked like something it wasn't."

<You're afraid, aren't you?>

"Of him? Absolutely not!"

<You're afraid of yourself. You're afraid it felt too good and you liked it too much; afraid you won't be able to hold out. Afraid you'll go crawling to him one night begging him to do that again, and afraid of how you'll feel when he pays you off with information.>

"I'm *not* afraid," Scully whispered fiercely as she pulled up in front of her building. "Not afraid." But as she turned the key to kill the engine, she realized that her hands were trembling.

Taking a moment to compose herself, she looked up to the windows of her apartment. There were lights on, meaning that Krycek was still there. A shiver of fear ran through her, and she had to stop and calm herself down again. <Nothing will happen,> she reminded herself. <I'll be fine if he sticks to the terms of the deal. He won't touch me unless I initiate it.>

"Right," she said aloud. "The last time I took Alex Krycek at his word, Mulder almost got his arm chopped off." She took a deep breath and entered the building.

Visions of how she might find her unwelcome houseguest tumbled through her mind, distracting her so thoroughly that she dropped her keys four times before finally fitting the correct key in the lock. She spun her mental roulette wheel, trying to decide which image would be the right one. Would he be in the kitchen cooking? Already waiting for her in the bedroom? Lounging naked on the sofa? She wiped that vision from her mind quickly, unwilling to deal with the reaction her body had to it, and pushed the door open.

Whatever picture her mind had settled on, it hadn't prepared her for the utterly innocuous scene she saw before her. Krycek was stretched out on the sofa -- fully clothed -- reading the newspaper. There was a laptop computer (not hers) sitting closed on the coffee table, next to a newly- straightened pile of magazines she had been meaning to read. In fact, the whole room seemed to have been straightened up a bit. Not that it had been messy before; it just looked more organized somehow. Scully shook her head a bit in disbelief. Alex Krycek -- domestic?

He had looked up briefly when she came in, and now turned his attention back to the newspaper with an amused half-smile. "Hi," he said, more to the paper than to her. "Thought you might be late tonight."

Scully closed the door and kicked off her shoes, still processing the scene in her living room. Two nights in a row now, Krycek had gotten the drop on her. As soon as she thought she had him figured out, he went and did exactly the opposite of what she expected. What other surprises did he have in store for her? "Oh, you did," she said, trying to regain some measure of control. "And just what made you think I'd be late?"

"Must've been the way you left here this morning." He closed the paper and watched her as she moved about the room. "You as much as told me that if I was here, you wouldn't be." He caught her gaze and held it. "Dana, you're trying to avoid me."

She felt herself being drawn in, hypnotized by those luminous green eyes. <Yes, I want you, right now, right here,> was on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to squelch the impulse to say the words. Instead she closed her eyes for a long moment, breaking the hypnotic spell. "And why would I avoid my own home just because you're here?" she asked. "We have a deal. If you stick to it, I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

"It's not me you don't trust, is it? You don't trust yourself."

The impulse to smack that grin off his face was almost overpowering. <He'd probably enjoy it,> she thought. But the words were disturbingly familiar, words that had come from her own mind. Better to just not deal with that for the time being. "Oh, please," she scoffed. "How *do* you get through doors with an ego that size?"

He laughed. "So the bullpen was wrong -- you *do* have a sense of humor!"

Scully leaned against the entrance to the kitchen and chewed her lower lip. "Care to hear some of the things they said about you?"

"Heard 'em." Krycek sat up and stretched, a move of such surprisingly sinuous grace that Scully couldn't take her eyes off him. She continued to watch as he stood and moved into the kitchen to check the pots on the stove. He moved like a cat, with an ease she'd never noticed before. Then again, she'd never seen him in this sort of environment, relaxed, confident and in control. The effect was very unsettling. "Seriously, Dana," he continued, his tone light, "lots of women would kill to be in your position right now. Believe it or not, I'd be considered a great catch."

"Sure, by the local law enforcement." She couldn't watch him anymore; the whole effect was too disturbing. She mentally cursed herself for finding it disturbing at all.

He shook his head sadly at her. "Dana, didn't your mother teach you that if you can't say something nice --"

"Okay, I'll bite," Scully sighed. "Why are you such a great catch?"

"Look around you. I cook, I pick up the place... you've already experienced my, um... after-hours skills... I even took the wet spot..."

<Please don't go there... not yet,> she silently begged. "How considerate."

"I even did the laundry that was in the hamper."

He apparently didn't want to nitpick last night either, at least not yet, or he wouldn't have moved on so quickly. "Great. I suppose my whites are now black and my delicates are ripped to shreds?"

"Hey, I took Laundry Sorting 101," he said defensively.

"Fine," she sighed. "If you do windows and can give a bathroom a half- decent scrub, I just might hire you."

He looked up at her, studying her, his expression unreadable. "They were so wrong about you," he mused. "That's good. I like a spirited woman."

"I'm so glad." Finally managing to beat back vivid memories of the previous night, Scully watched him move around the kitchen, setting the table for two. "You didn't eat yet?"

"Couldn't let you eat alone, could I?" He flashed her that killer grin, then turned back to the stove. "It's almost ready. Are you?"

<Ready for what? You? Very definitely not...> "I'll be right back," she said slowly, "and I swear, if I see wine on that table when I get back, you're dead."

Krycek laughed softly. "Dana, would I do that to you?"

"Yes. You already have."

He raised an amused eyebrow at her. "Trust me?"

"Not on your life."

He laughed again. "Just go, will you?"

She surprised herself by going. She could afford to trust him to some extent on this point; it was a relatively simple one. She would, however, stand her ground on more important stuff. She knew better now.

Scully returned after quickly changing her clothes to find the room exactly as she'd left it. No soft lighting, no candles, no light music... and more important, no wine. A bottle of mineral water stood by one of the glasses on the table; a beer by the other. She slipped without a word into the chair by the mineral water place setting, noticing as she sat the lemon wedge on a small plate next to the bottle. This whole experience was a nightmare, but one thing about it was rather appealing. It was nice to be cooked for and waited on for a change, even if it was by a wanted felon. After all, her doctors had told her to start eating better, and Krycek was, to her amazement, a good cook. Thoughtful in his choices, too -- if Mulder had been serving this dinner, there would be no lemon for her water. In fact, there would probably be a beer by her plate, too. And the food would more than likely be Chinese takeout.

Scully dug into her meal (chicken cutlet something or other -- she suspected it was a recipe unique to her new cook), perfectly willing to dine in silence. At least she thought she was willing, but she soon realized that the silence was filled with unspoken questions she didn't want to answer. She figured she might as well get the conversational ball rolling, if for no other reason than to head off any discussion of the previous night. "So," she asked, almost afraid of the answer, "what did you do all day?"

"Nothing much," came the answer. "Cleaned up last night's dinner - forgot to do that, didn't we?" His playful leer brought no response (only through sheer force of will on her part), so he continued. "Picked up the place... did the laundry... like I said, not much."

She offered a tight smile. "How very domestic."

"Yeah, well, I got tired of living like a sewer rat. Domestic is a nice change." He paused, almost daring her to respond to the sewer rat comment, but she declined. "Oh, by the way, I thought that since I'll be living here, I should unpack. I moved some stuff around in the closet and dresser. If you can't find something, just ask."

Scully blinked at him. "You moved my things?" The thought of him touching her intimate possessions made her feel... weird.

"I can't very well live out of a duffel bag for the rest of my life, can I? Where else was I going to put my stuff?"

<Rest of your life? That's how long you plan to be here?> Not willing to discuss that point for the time being, she bent to her food again, now determined to dine in silence, no matter the cost.

Krycek allowed her to for a good while, through most of the meal, before asking in a casual, conversational tone, "So, how's old Spooky these days?"

She looked up at him, trying and failing to read his expression. "Since when do you care?" What was he getting at?

"Today I happen to, okay?" No response from her, so he continued. "When I didn't have cops and former colleagues beating in the door during the day, I figured you didn't tell Mulder about last night." Another pause, during which Scully, knowing and dreading what was coming, concentrated mightily on her plate. "Why?"

Even though she knew it was coming, the question still hit Scully like a ton of bricks. Did he have to bring it up so soon? She gulped from her glass, then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. Those green eyes were very intense now, rendering her utterly incapable of speech. She dropped her eyes to her plate again. "I... I..."

"Why?" he repeated, his voice soft yet unmistakably commanding. "If you really believed it was what you called it, why didn't you tell him? He might've even believed you."

She could almost feel that intense gaze boring into her skull. <Not now,> she silently begged. <Don't do this to me; not now.>

"Why, Dana?" he asked again, his voice still soft. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because..." The truth was, she didn't really know why she hadn't told Mulder anyway, despite his teasing. Of course she couldn't now, not after a whole day, but why hadn't she as soon as she got to the office? Because she didn't think he'd believe her? Because Krycek could refute any claim she made? Because last night was... Because... "Because I just want this whole nightmare over with," she heard herself say. "I want it finished as soon as possible, and this... *deal*... of yours seems to be my only choice. If you stick to it." She could feel her face redden as she said the words.

She felt the intensity of his gaze drop dramatically, and he chuckled softly. "Does that mean I have something to look forward to later?"

"No, I..." She took a sip of her water to calm herself, trying to will her face not to turn as red as her hair. Damn him for being amused by all this! "I'm not ready for that. Not yet."

"You were ready enough last night..."

"I wasn't given a choice last night, was I?"

"Sure you were," he countered. "And I didn't hear the word 'no' pass your lips once. Which is why I sort of thought you might want to get this deal started as soon as possible..."

"I thought you said the 'when' was my call."

He shrugged. "It is," he said mildly. "But if you're even thinking about it... last night wasn't really so awful, was it?"

Again memories of the previous night washed over her, and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to give in. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked quietly, not meeting his eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? Do you even care? You could've asked me to climb Mount Everest without ropes and it wouldn't be this hard." She paused, took a breath, and sipped from her glass again. "The only way you could've made this deal any harder would be by asking me to... to sleep with that black-lunged bastard you're in league with." Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper by the time she finished, and she was almost surprised to find that she was trembling.

"See, Dana, it could be worse," he pointed out, an evil grin appearing on his face. "I could've asked you to sleep with other people, and I didn't. Console yourself with that if you like. It's only me."

"That," she spat, "is the problem."

Krycek considered this for a moment. "Sex with me is really that revolting?" he finally asked.

Scully fought to keep herself from crying. How could the sick bastard be so glib about this? The most revolting part of this, for the moment, was that her mouth just couldn't seem to form the emphatic "yes" she desperately wanted to say. "Asking for it is revolting. And degrading. This whole deal is... hard. So damn hard."

"I know it's hard," he broke in softly, and she looked up to see a flash of something -- might that be regret? -- cross his eyes. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" she hissed. "You --"

"I can't help it," he repeated quietly.

Her eyes met his again, and she felt all the anger drain from her body. "What do you get out of this, anyway?"

"Besides the obvious? Sorry, that's classified."

"Classified." He nodded. "Dammit, tell me!"

He sighed. "Dana, in my experience, this statement is generally full of shit, but in this case it's very true: what you don't know can't hurt you."

Scully sat back and processed what she'd just heard. Was there something more going on here? More than just his own sick, sadistic game? What was he keeping from her?

"By the way," he said, interrupting her thoughts, "that should be 'used to be in league with'."

She blinked. "What?"

"You assume I'm connected to that black-lunged bastard. Our agendas... ah... aren't quite the same anymore."

That was news. "Since when?"

Krycek drained his beer. "He tried to kill me twice," he said evenly. "Quite a philosophical difference, wouldn't you say?"

Okay, maybe that had something to do with what was going on. But... "So why this deal, with these terms? Why does it have to involve me?" Her voice dropped as an uncharacteristic wave of self-pity came over her. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"It's not a question of deserving it," Krycek told her. "The stakes are high here, Dana. I know you don't believe that, but it's true; much higher than you think they are. And trust me, you'll thank me when this is all over."

"What are the stakes?" she demanded.

"Classified."

"How am I supposed to know when this is over if I don't know what I'm working toward?"

"You'll know. Believe me, when the time comes, you'll know."

Scully mentally berated herself for falling into this trap. Once again, she'd placed herself in this man's hands, trusting him to lead her to some unknown, but apparently important, goal. She'd sworn never again after the last time...

<But last time you didn't have sex with him,> that little part of her mind piped up. <That *is* what's keeping you in this deal, isn't it?>

She banished that thought from her mind. It was absolutely impossible for one night to affect her life so profoundly, to the point where she would actually agree to something like this. Wasn't it? There had to be some way out of this...

"Krycek," she began softly, then corrected herself. "Alex... is there any way... any way at all that we could... renegotiate?"

He raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her. "Renegotiate?"

"Yes." Scully took a deep breath, then continued tentatively, "If I could arrange for a pardon..."

He shook his head slowly. "You don't get it, do you, Dana?"

"But you'd be free," she protested.

"Dana, even with a pardon," he said, as if explaining to a small child, "I'm not free."

"You're telling me that your own personal freedom... the ability to walk down the street in broad daylight without getting carted off to jail, is actually less important to you than sleeping with me?" She knew she was grasping at straws, but she couldn't help it. She was getting desperate.

"You're not hearing me, are you?" He sighed, apparently as frustrated with this question as she was. "I don't care if you get a pardon from the President himself and have him sign it right here in front of me. *It doesn't matter*. Will that stop anybody from putting a bullet in my head? Get me a pardon from *that* and maybe we'll talk. Anything less means nothing. I'm not free."

"I see." She sat back, trying not to let her despair show on her face. "You're not free, so I'm not free."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Krycek got up and paced around the kitchen. His voice changed; she thought he sounded almost angry now. Not quite, not yet, but the anger was there, just beneath the surface. "You're as free as you want to be. You tell me right now you want to bag the deal and I'm outta here. You're free as a bird; you can pretend the last two days never happened if you want. If you can. No strings. But if you say yes, you're in this deal one hundred percent, and you're in it to the end. You have time if you need it, but rest assured, time is *not* unlimited. Something *will* be expected of you. And if you say yes and then string me along? I'm outta here then, too... and you won't like what happens after I leave."

He came to rest by the chair from which he'd arisen, leaning forward across the table, eyes fixed intently on her. "You just have to decide how badly you want what I'm offering." He reached out and, before she could move, gently caressed her cheek. His touch might just as well have been a slap. The gesture and the gleam in his eyes sent a clear message: <Never forget I'm dangerous. Never forget I'm in control.> "I know you want it," he whispered. "You just tell me how much."

Scully could only sit and stare at him. Yes, she wanted the information he offered; Mulder needed it. But did she really want...

<You know you do,> that little voice told her. <Sure, it all sounds sleazy. Sure, he could hurt you any time he wants to. But it all comes down to one thing, doesn't it? You do want him, and you won't be able to let him just walk out that door.>

Krycek sat down again, leaning back and crossing his arms. "So, are you still willing to stand by that 'yes' you gave me last night?"

He was giving her another chance to back out. But... would he really let her just walk away from this, with no repercussions? Probably not, she admitted. She couldn't forget who she was dealing with here -- he'd sold out his own government; who was she to expect any better treatment? Of course, she could still end the whole thing by telling Mulder...

Another completely unexpected flash of memory from the previous night sprang to her mind. She could almost feel again the incredible things he did to her with his hands... his tongue... "Yes," she whispered, so softly she could barely hear it herself.

"What was that?" Krycek asked. "Didn't quite hear you."

"Yes," she repeated, louder, unable to look at him. "Yes, we have a deal."

"Good." He drew her mostly-clean plate across the table. "You weren't planning on finishing this cutlet, were you?"

She looked up, taken aback yet again. She had just agreed to be his sex slave, and what did he want to do? Eat. "I'm tired, and I have a headache," she said, rising from her seat. "If it's okay with you, I'm just going to go to bed now."

He looked up from the plate, startled. "You okay?"

"I'm fine; I'm just tired." <The headache is your fault,> she mentally added.

"I take it that wasn't an invitation, then."

She sighed as she moved toward the hall. "No, it wasn't. Believe me, you'll know it when you get an invitation."

Krycek waited until she was almost in the bedroom before calling out to her. "You know, Dana, someday this is going to be a more equal partnership."

A chill ran down Scully's spine as she returned to the entrance to the dining nook. "I beg your pardon?"

"It is," he insisted, clearing the dishes off the table. "One of these days you're going to help with the dishes."

Scully sighed in frustration. Tired as she was, sleep refused to come. She tried to empty her mind and allow herself to drift off, but soon realized that wouldn't work. There was too much running through her head to even think of sleep. She punched her pillow, releasing some tension, and gave up. The questions demanded answers, or at least some focused thought.

Chief among those questions was just how her houseguest would behave now that she'd agreed to his deal. Would he stick to it? His word had never been worth much before, so she couldn't count on it now. She had searched for the least sexy sleepwear she could find, finally settling on a pair of baggy cotton pajamas that buttoned up to the neck. It was a precaution, just in case Krycek finished the dishes and decided to join her. He hadn't; she had heard the TV come on once he was finished in the kitchen. Even though he'd lowered the volume, she could still hear what was on: a couple of inane sitcoms, a cop drama, the late news. Somehow she'd never thought of Alex Krycek as the type to kill an evening in front of the boob tube, but that was exactly what he was doing. Just one more thing to keep her off-balance.

Their dinner conversation this evening had certainly kept her off- balance. At first she had thought this deal was just one of Krycek's little head games (a particularly sadistic one), but she was apparently mistaken. If he could be believed, it went much deeper than that. Start with that statement that he wasn't free. What did that mean? Probably that the s