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     This author's email address has changed to: bevan1013@mindspring.com

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From: pdawnnah (abevan@mail.zebra.net)
Title:  "And She Believed"
Category: VR

	Disclaimer/Safety Net:  The character of Alex Krycek 
belongs to his creator, Chris "The Man" Carter, along with 
1013 and Fox Productions.  If anyone had any doubts about 
that, be sure to see me after class, because I'd like to 
know where the heck you've been.  No copyright infringement 
intended, just the maybe little bit semi-redemption of a 
character we all love to hate, the oft-maligned Ratboy.

	Summary:  In the wake of his disappearance, Alex Krycek's 
lover ponders his safety, her faith...and the uncertainty of 
the future.

	Classification:  VR.

	Rating:  PG;  a couple of bad words and some naked 
people.

	Timeline:  Set immediately after Krycek's disappearing 
act in "Ascension".

	Spoilers:  None, really.

	NOTE:  Hi, it's me again!  Is anyone reading my stuff?  
Just wondering...Haven't gotten flamed lately, and I'm usually 
*bombarded*.  Eh bien.  Maybe this'll do the trick.  My 
apologies to all (that means you, Nicole Leigh), but I LIKE 
KRYCEK.  That's right.  I'm inordinately fond of Ratboy.  In 
fact, he makes me drool almost as much as Mulder and Skinner 
(who, incidentally, also belong to CC, so I disclaim them 
as well).  There.  I said it.  I like Krycek.  Now will you 
flame me??  *grin*  Anyway, this is my attempt to give the guy 
feelings.  Hope you enjoy, and let me know if you thought it 
sucked/didn't suck.  Thanks!

	
	
	*~*~*~*  And She Believed  *~*~*~*


	It hadn't gotten any easier.  All of Caitlin's friends 
had assured her that, given time, she'd forget all about him, 
all about their three months together.

	They had been seriously mistaken, or else they'd lied 
to make her feel better.

	She still woke up every morning with the same thoughts.  
She wondered where he was.  What he was doing.  Whether he 
was still alive.

	Because she hadn't seen Alex in six months.

	One day, he just hadn't come back.  Most of his things 
were still at her apartment.  She'd gathered them all together 
in a big cardboard box, a box that sat on the floor of her 
walk-in closet.  Waiting.  Maybe someday she'd throw it away.  
Or give it to the Salvation Army.  Or something.

	Some of his...associates...had come looking for him, 
asking questions whose answers she didn't know.  Answers she 
didn't want to know.

	Caitlin clutched her stomach.  The idea made her sick.  
The G-men had told her that Alex Krycek was a murderer, a 
traitor, and a double agent.  They'd even hinted, not quite 
subtly, that she could face charges if willfully concealing 
his whereabouts.

	But she knew nothing.

	A tiny part of her had whispered from the first that 
Alex was too good to be true.  Caitlin's tears belied her 
shaky smile as she studied her reflection in the tall oval 
mirror that occupied one corner of her bedroom.  She should 
have listened to that voice.  She should have known.  God 
knew she'd spent enough of her adult life in suspicion of 
everyone around her.  Occupational hazard.

	The woman in the mirror tilted her head to one side.  
Had she known that he wasn't what he'd claimed to be?  Had 
she known...and just not cared?  It was a definite possibility.  
She'd met Alex, and he'd been so damned *charming*, and she 
had wanted to believe.

	*It's amazing,* she thought, *what wanting to believe 
can make you ignore.*

	He'd told her he was a sales rep for a large computer 
hardware manufacturer.  That he was in DC temporarily, but 
that The Big Guys were thinking of basing him here permanently.

	And she believed.

	She'd taken a long look into his impossibly blue eyes, 
and all of her better judgement deserted her.  Murder, 
torture...She'd seen it all in her work in Evidence Analysis.  
But she'd ignored all the dangers inherent in taking a 
stranger home.  She'd trusted him.

	And where had it gotten her?

	In bed, in a relationship, with a wanted man.  A trained 
killer.

	It was the type of brutal irony that usually amused 
Caitlin.

	Usually.

	She walked to her bed and switched on the nightlamp, 
driving away the moonlight with a 60-watt wash of artifice.  
Then she did the one thing she had sworn she'd never do again.  
She reached in her bed table and retrieved a photograph.  
*The* photograph.

	Two months after their first night together, Alex had 
taken her to the Manassas Battlefield in Virginia.  She'd 
commandeered a cheerful park ranger and asked him to take a 
picture of the two of them with one of the antique cannons.  
Caitlin studied it now, impersonally, almost as if she 
herself wasn't one of the subjects.

	They both sported brilliant smiles, and they were so 
obviously, so transparently happy.  There had been no one 
else in the entire world but them, it seemed.  Not a soul.  
And, Caitlin realized, that was how it had been.

	It was the only photo of Alex she hadn't destroyed.  
She'd save it...

	Save it so their daughter would know her father.  Or 
what he looked like, at least.

	Once again, Caitlin put a protective hand over her 
belly, where her child lay, waiting to be born in a scant 
few months.

	Looking at the picture she held, Caitlin refused to 
believe that Alex's time with her had been a lie.  And no 
matter what he'd done, she knew deep in her heart that Alex 
had his reasons.  She chewed her lip and berated herself for 
so readily believing the men who'd come to her.  They'd had 
no proof, and, though they'd seemed to be strictly on the 
up-and-up, she knew from experience that things were rarely 
what they seemed.  

	How quick she'd been to dismiss Alex.

	It was a shaming thought.  Was this the extent of her 
loyalty to the man she'd held, clutched to her, moving 
silently...and not so silently...in the night?  Was she 
really so easily swayed?

	A tear dripped onto the photograph, and she quickly 
wiped it away.

	She recalled a conversation they'd had, lying in bed, 
in the middle of a heated summer night...

	Alex's hands had tangled restlessly in her hair, and 
he'd seemed so pensive.

	"What's wrong, Alex?"  She'd murmured the question 
against the smooth skin of his shoulder.

	He'd sighed deeply, then remained silent for a long 
time, staring at the lazily rotating blades of her ceiling 
fan.  "If anything ever happens to me, Cait, I just want 
you to know...Well, I--"

	Caitlin had raised upon one arm, concern darkening her 
eyes.  "Alex, what the hell is going on?  You're scaring me."

	He had whispered a quiet apology in Russian.  She 
*loved* it when he spoke Russian, and he knew it.  He'd 
tugged her face to his and kissed her, and the tension 
seeped from her body, replaced by a different kind of 
tension, a delectable, coiling knot of anticipation.

	Apparently, though, Alex needed to be heard, and he 
broke the kiss.  "Caitlin, I mean it.  If anything ever 
happens, to me, I mean, I just want you to know that I love 
you.  I love you so much it hurts."

	She had wanted to question him then, but he'd eased her 
back and begun to make love to her, and rational thought had 
fled.  Alex touched her passionately, almost desperately...

	As if it were the last time he'd ever hold her.

	He was gone two weeks later.
	
	And she believed what he'd said.  He loved her, she 
knew.  What she didn't know was why he'd left, or where he'd 
gone.  She knew he was in trouble, knew it in her gut, and 
she was scared.

	But what could she do?

	Caitlin tucked the photo carefully back into the drawer, 
then tugged back the bedclothes and climbed in, shaking with 
the cold.  Or was it something else?

	She'd wait for him.

	And Caitlin prayed that, when Alexandra was born, she'd 
have her father's laughing blue eyes and wicked smile.  And 
Caitlin would teach her daughter about the things her time 
with Alex had left her with.  Things like love, and faith.

	And hope.

	She switched off the lamp.

	Alex had also once told her that he could never really 
leave her, because even if he was gone, she would always be 
with him, occupying his every thought.

	And Caitlin believed.


	*~*~*~*  Finis  *~*~*~*

	
	That's all!  Please let me know what you think!

	--pdawnnah  (abevan@mail.zebra.net)