From: Chris Keil <cjkeil@primenet.com>
Date: Tue, 9 Nov 1999 00:30:54 -0500
Subject: New: A Fractured X-Tale...by Kelly Keil (1/1)


Title: A Fractured X-Tale, Or Boris and Natasha
        Strike Again

Author:  Kelly Keil ( cjkeil@primenet.com )

Classification:  S,H

Rating:  R, for bad language and sex

Distribution:  You want it, you can have it.

Disclaimer:  None of these guys belong to me.  I just put
them in a glass jar and shook them up to see what they'd
do.  They really belong to Fox, 1013, and CC, who treat
them with more care.

Spoilers:  Anything up through season 6 is fair game.

Summary:  A bet between the bad guys goes awry, causing
much distress for Moose and Squirrel.

Author notes:  I'm flying without my beta-reader on this
one so bear with me.  It may be a bumpy ride.

Feedback:  I love it!  Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie.  It makes
my day.



A Fractured X-Tale,
Or
Boris and Natasha Strike Again


By Kelly Keil


This shouldn't be personal.

It's just a stupid bet.  I had to find some way to wipe
that smirk off of Alex's face.  He thinks he knows everything.
I wanted to show him that I have a trick or two up my sleeve.
I wanted to show him that I still have power over Mulder.  I
know this is risky, but it could be useful.  After all, no man
wants to accuse the woman he's sleeping with of treachery.
So this is just business--nothing personal.

But it is personal, because I hate her.  Him I can take or
leave.  I mean he's kind of cute, with those big, pretty eyes,
but aside from his intrinsic value to my employers, he holds
little attraction for me.  When I said good-bye to him in my
heart all those years ago I never looked back.  Even now, in
bed with him, it just feels like a job.  A means to an end.
Which probably makes me a whore, but I've been called
worse.  Her on the other hand...

I'd love to wring her scrawny, little neck.  I loathe her from the
top of her orange head to the tips of her shoes.  Her teeny, tiny
shoes.  I'd like to crush her like the insect she is.

These are not professional feelings.

Knowing this does not make them go away.

She's making this little task very difficult.  It should have been
cake. A nice uncomplicated slice of sponge cake.  Tasteless
and not too fattening.
But no.  That isn't going to happen.  Because of her, of course.

Fuck her, anyway.

Why does he have to say her name?  What's the deal with
that?  And not "Dana", either.  Dana I could turn into my
name in my mind.  The mind has endless capacities for
self-deception.  Hell, the man beside me is living proof of that.
But no.  When he comes what he says is "Scully."  Every time.
Without fail.  I've seen him come more times than I'd like to
remember.  Some were in person, back in the days when we
shared more than just a bed.  The good old days before she
came into the picture.  Recently, most have been on closed
circuit television with him in his apartment or one of a thousand
hotel rooms.   Every time he utters her name.  Somehow I
thought this time would be different.  I looked up into his eyes
and smiled like the good actress I am.  He squinted his eyes
closed and let it fall from his lips, "Oh, Scully."

Disgusting.

Alex is probably in the van laughing his ass off.

The only thing getting me through this is the thought that she
cares for him as much as he does for her.  And while I'd love
to just shoot that bitch, fucking the man she loves is the next
best thing.

*************

I'm laughing so hard that tears are falling down my cheeks.
I haven't laughed so hard in years.  That crazy bitch.  She
actually bet me that she could fuck Fox Mulder, and by God
she actually did it.  I owe her twenty bucks now, but I don't
care.  I got my reward when he said the wrong name, and
that is priceless, just like the Visa commercials say.

"Oh, Scully."  God, that is fucking precious.  Doesn't get
any funnier than that.  No, wait, maybe it does.  The look
on Diana's face when he said it.  Now that was a hoot.

She is never going to live this down.  Not if I have anything
to say about it.  Nice to see the bitch taken down a peg or
two, even if it was Mulder who did it.  Even if it was
inadvertent.

Oh my God.  She's going in for seconds.  Greedy bitch.
She gets herself into position and wiggles that scrawny ass
at me.  Cute, very cute.  Okay, Diana, fine. Work your evil
magic.  Enjoy it while you can, because I don't intend on
letting it last.  This is a scene that needs to be shared.  I
pick up the phone and smile.

I can't wait to watch the fireworks go off.

*************

"Agent Scully?"

"Yes?"  Being woken up in the middle of the night by
someone besides Mulder is something of a novel
experience.  I wonder what this is about.

"I think you should check in on your partner.  He
could use some help."

"What?  Who is this?"  I frown. The voice is familiar.
Krycek?  "What have you done with Mulder?"

"Just check on your partner, Agent Scully," says the
voice, and I am convinced it's Krycek.

"Listen, you slimy bastard--" I begin to say, but I hear
the click in the phone receiver as he hangs up.
Goddammit.  Another night ruined because of Mulder.
That man owes me about a week of uninterrupted
sleep.

I call his cell phone but get no answer.   Odd.  I try
his home phone but the line is busy.  Okay.  Let's think
about this logically.  Part of me wants to write this off as
a bad joke, but I swear that was Krycek's voice on the
line.  Every time he's around all hell breaks loose.  God
only knows what is going on this time.

I still haven't forgotten that because of him I had to
shoot Mulder.

I feel somehow that I'm being manipulated but I'm not
sure how.  Powerless to stop myself, I drive to Mulder's
apartment.  Please let him be okay.  Please let him be
on the phone or surfing the net.  Please let him not be in
a bloody heap on the floor.

My foot pushes down on the accelerator and I race to
Mulder's apartment.  I break almost every traffic law in
the book.  I could be killed, but I don't care.  I have to
know he's safe.

**************

I wake to find myself in a bed, which is not all that unusual.
After all, even though I have become used to sleeping on
my couch, motel rooms often do not come equipped with
them.  Especially not the motels I tend to find myself in.  I'm
lucky if they have cable.  The wrong thing with this bed,
though, is that it is in my bedroom, or junk closet, as I like
to think of it.  Also, I'm not alone.  This can't be good for
anyone.

Especially not me.

I'm afraid to check for sure, but I have a sneaking suspicion
who she is.  I'm not positive because I was very drunk last
night and, if I'm going to be honest with myself, I don't hold
my liquor well.  As for why I was drunk, well, I don't want to
get into it.  The reason I brought your friend and mine, Jim
Beam, home with me was to forget about certain things that I
don't want to think about right now and didn't want to think
about then.  I think I could use another drink.  Hair of the dog
and all that.

I know the form next to me isn't Scully.  I think the skies
would fall if Scully and I ever had sex.  I think it might trigger
the apocalypse.  Certainly there would at least be a rain of
toads.  Blearily, I search the floor.  Nope, no toads.  Oh my
God, don't let me throw up on the carpet.  I think I'd lose
my deposit for sure.  Oh, yeah, that's right.  I already lost
my deposit when I shot that guy in my living room.  A little
puke probably wouldn't make things any worse, but I really
don't feel like cleaning it up.

With my head hanging over the side of the bed, all the blood
is rushing to my brain.  This makes my hangover start to throb
with an impatient urgency so I ease myself back onto the bed.
The woman beside me murmurs sleepily and I suddenly know
for sure who she is.  Ugh.  Was I that horny, or that drunk,
or both?  Probably both.

"I love you, Fox."

My stomach roils with nausea.  This is not good at all.  It's
been nearly a decade since the last time she said that to me.
I think we might have been in this same bed.  And Scully
wonders why I don't sleep in it.

"Diana," I begin weakly.  I start to say more but she interrupts
me.

"Fox, I've waited so long for this moment.  I missed you every
second that I was gone.  I'm so glad you waited for me."  She
kisses me softly on the lips.  I try to lie there like a dead fish.

She puts her hand between my legs and God help me but I
respond to her touch.  I can't help it.  She found out years
ago what buttons to push.  There are so many reasons not to
do this, starting with all the ones I used to break this off the
first time, but I am powerless against her feminine wiles.  Wiles
that include giving fantastic head.  I try to breathe deeply and I
curl my fingers into the mattress as she does that voodoo that she
does so well.  It's been a long time.  Too long.  I close my eyes
and go with the moment.  Call me pig selfish, but I can kick her
out of my bed after this.  I'll come, she'll want to snuggle, and
I'll start the conversation with, "We need to talk."  No problem.
In the meantime, however, I'm going to savor the only blowjob
I've had in nearly five years.

I can always pretend it's not Diana.  In my mind I see that other
face, the one that has become dear to me despite all my efforts
to remain neutral.  It's a demanding face and I always seem to
fall short of its expectations.  Still, it's her blue eyes that I want
to look into.  This is supremely sick, I know.  Knowing that
doesn't make stop the fantasy I have rolling through my head
of Scully with her head between my legs with me in her mouth.
I want it to be her and even knowing that it isn't doesn't kill the
fantasy.  I hold her head in my hands and the hair I feel should
be red, not brown.  Diana does this thing with her throat.
Somehow she manages to swallow all of me and I come inside
her with an exquisite jolt of pleasure.  I scream, "Scullleee," in a
long, drawn out wail of need.  Diana is going to love that.  But
on a positive note, it'll make my little talk with her that much easier.

*************

"Scullleee!"

Even in the hall I hear him.  My heart pounds and I taste bile in
the back of my throat.  I keep remembering the call.  Has Krycek
hurt him?  If he has I vow to hunt down that traitorous son of a
bitch and kill him myself.  I try the door but it is locked, of course,
so I fumble for my key.  Locating it at the bottom of my purse, I
somehow manage to open the lock and then the door.  I can hear
an augment.  A woman's voice rises in anger or fear.  Diana?  I can
hear Mulder's voice as well, but softer.  I can make out no specific
words from either.  I pull my gun and cautiously enter the apartment.

No one is in the living room.  I dig the small Maglight out of my
purse and shine it in the corners of the room.  Nope, nothing.  I
move toward the sound of voices.   I still can't make out distinct
words but it does sound like an argument.  I move down the hall
and stop in front of Mulder's bedroom.  Mulder's bedroom?
What the hell?  I hesitate slightly before opening the door.  There
are some things that you just don't want to see.  But all I can think
of was how I found him after his father had been killed, and my
instinct to protect him makes me open that door.

************


My, my, my, the fur is going to fly now.  I wish I had some
popcorn.

"You!"

The word is shrieked by both women at once.  Mulder just
puts his hands over his eyes and groans.  Oh yeah, buddy.
Your worst nightmare has come true.

I notice Scully still has her gun out.  She looks like she can't
decide who to point it at--Diana or Mulder.  Hmm...a tough
choice, I agree.

"What the hell is going on here?" asks Scully.  She sounds
pretty peeved.

"What do you think?" replies Diana, voice heavy with sarcasm.
"I know it's been a long time for you, dear, but use your
imagination."

Mulder just groans again.

Scully ignores Diana and focuses on poor Mulder.  "I was just
woken up out a sound sleep by that rat bastard Krycek, telling
me to come over here check on you.  Now I really don't give a
fuck who you decide to ball, Mulder, but I'd really appreciate
you not sharing the information so indiscriminately that a man
you hate--a man you have sworn to shoot on sight--feels the
obligation to wake me up and tell me about it!"

Shit.  I didn't think she'd recognize my voice.

"What?"  Shrieks Diana.  Oh no.  I think she's going to lose it.
She turns to the camera and shakes her fist.  Stop it, Diana.
Think about what you're about to do.  Don't...too late.

"Fuck you, Alex," she screams into the hidden camera.  Mulder
has pulled his head out of his hands and is staring at her, agape.
Even Scully's jaw has dropped open.  "Fuck you!  Couldn't let
me win gracefully, could you?  No.  Well fuck you.  You can keep
your goddamned money.  I don't want it!"

You stupid bitch.  I can't believe you.  You are a dead woman.

Diana sweeps her gaze over the startled Mulder and Scully.  "You
have no idea how sick I am of the two of you.  It's not worth it.
It's just not.  I was happier in Europe with the terrorists."  She
begins stalking about the room, picking up her clothing and putting
it on.  "Mulder, you are a lousy lay.  You always were.  As for you,
Scully," she sneers the name.  "You can have him.  You've ruined
him for anyone else anyway."  Fully dressed, she pushes past Scully
and leaves the room.

Oh Jesus.  We are so dead.  I race the van to the entrance of
Mulder's building.  As she flounces out the front door, I open the
door to the van and rush out.  I grab her arm and wrestler her into
the vehicle.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" I scream at her.

"I might ask you the same thing, Alex," she replies icily.

"They're going to kill us."  And I don't mean Mulder and Scully.
The big guns are going to be headed our way any minute now.

"No, they're not."

"Why not?"

"Because we are leaving the country.  Now."

A fugitive again.  How fucking familiar.  How quaint.  I could
just puke.

"We?  Who said I was dragging your skinny ass with me?"

Diana just looks at me.

"Fine.  We leave the country.  Foiled again by Moose and
Squirrel."

"Krycek, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Just shut up.  I don't want to hear another word."

*************

"I don't suppose you'd care to explain what is going on?"

"Once I figure it out for myself, Scully, I'll clue you in."

"Great, just great."  Scully looks at her watch.  "You've got
about two hours before we need to be at work."

"Fuck work.  Don't you realize, Scully?  My apartment's
bugged."

"Now there's a news flash.  Look, Mulder, I'm tired.  I'm
really, really tired.  I'm just going to go home, take a hot
shower, and I'll see you at eight."

"Scully, don't you think we should talk?"

She snorts.  "About what?  The fact that you were in bed with
Diana Fowley?  It's not my business.  But now that we're on
the subject, it is interesting to note that she didn't seem to be
here because of your boyish charms.  How did she put that?
Oh yeah.  You're a lousy lay."

"Scully--" I growl at her.

"Or I suppose we could speculate on how she knew your
apartment was bugged.  Or why she was working with
Krycek of all people?"

"Scully, we do not know she was working with Krycek."

"Mulder, how can you be so blind?  She was screaming into
a hidden camera about winning, and money, and someone
named Alex."

"So what's your theory?"

"I don't know, Mulder, and I don't care.  I feel like someone
just put a 'kick me' sign on my back.  I feel like I've just been
had.  Now all I want to do is go home and take a shower."

Scully leaves the room and slams the door.  I'm left sitting in
my bed all alone with a massive hangover.  Scully's right.  I do
feel like I've been had.  I was a bet.  Diana Fowley bet Alex
Krycek, of all people, that she could get me to sleep with her.
And I fell for it.  God, I am such a piece of work.  Scully's never
going to look at me the same way again.

I get out of bed and stumble into the shower.  I try futilely to
get clean.

If I ever see Krycek again I swear I will shoot him where he
stands.

************

I've been sniping at Mulder all day.  I can't seem to help myself.
I've told myself it doesn't matter that he was in bed with Diana
Fowley, but somehow it does.  It matters a lot.

"Scully, are you ever going to forgive me?"

"What?"

"I said--"

"I heard you, Mulder.  I'm just not sure what I'm supposed
to forgive you for."

"So you're not mad at me."  His voice sounds doubtful.

No, Mulder, I'm not mad at you.  I only caught you in bed
with a woman I despise.  Why would I be mad?  I can't say
this to him, though, so I just glower at him instead.

"No," I say tightly.  "I'm not mad."

"Look, Scully, I can guess what a shock it was to walk in
and find...what you did.  But look at it from my perspective.
I wasn't too thrilled for you to walk in on me, either."

"I bet I spoiled your fun."

"The only thing you spoiled was an argument we were
having."

I remember now that the voices I heard before I burst into
Mulder's bedroom did sound angry.  I look Mulder in the
eyes for the first time today but now it is he who is avoiding
my gaze.  "An argument?"

"Yes, an argument.  She was just about to leave, anyway."

"Whatever."

"Scully, look.  How do I put this?  Yes, if I could erase
the past I would.  Unfortunately, I made a colossal mistake
and you found out about it.  Now I wish you'd make up your
mind.  Either give a shit and be mad at me or don't care and
just laugh it off."

He's right.  I am being unfair.  But I can't laugh it off.  I try,
but all that comes out is a rusty snorty sound.

"Was that a laugh?"

I shake my head.  "I can't laugh, Mulder.  I guess I do care."

"Really?"

He sounds so eagerly happy.  Like a puppy.

"Yes, Mulder, congratulations.  You have succeeded in
making me jealous."

He nods, satisfied.  "I can deal with that.  Jealously has
possibilities."

"What kind of possibilities?"

"The kind of possibilities that will allow me to see what's
under that bathing suit of yours after you're done baking
yourself in the sun.  The kind of possibilities that combine
cocoa butter, sand, and naked skin."

My back is feeling toasty so I flip over onto my back and
begin to sun my front.  I'm getting a little darker despite the
30 SPF suntan lotion.  I feel the tropical breeze on my skin
and gaze into the turquoise Caribbean.  It's hard to stay mad
at a man who whisks you away to a private island in the
middle of the ocean while his apartment and yours are being
"fumigated."  Good-bye buggy apartments, DC, and endless
paperwork; hello sand, surf, and sunshine.  Still, I just can't
make things too easy for Mulder.  Even I do intend to find
out for myself whether or not he's a lousy lay.  Somehow I
doubt it.  Diana Fowley doesn't strike me as a good judge.

I smile at Mulder.  "So what you're really referring to are
extreme possibilities."

"Mulder leans over me, blocking out the sun.  "Oh, not that
extreme, Scully.  Not that extreme at all."

************

"Name?"

"Boris Petrovsky"

"Are you bringing any fruit or animals into the country?"

"No."

"Do you have anything to declare?"

"No."

"Reason for visit?"

"Just visiting my homeland.  My parents emigrated when I was
a child."

"Is this your wife?"

The woman smiles.  "I am Natasha Petrovsky."  She hands me
her passport.  "I hope everything is in order."

"Of course, Mrs. Petrovsky.  Enjoy your stay in Russia."

The man smiles.  "I'm sure we will.  It's good to be back."

"How long do you plan on staying?"

"We haven't decided.  There's so much to see.  But not forever."
He smiles at me.  "You have to go home sometime."



The End

Well, this was written after watching the season 7 premier and
the trailer for the second episode of the season.  Hope you all
like it.  Scully didn't go after Diana Fowley with a chair or a
machete, but I feel the result is still satisfying.  Let me know what
you think.

Reply to cjkeil@primenet.com and put "Kelly" somewhere in
the subject.

Kelly Keil