Date sent:        Mon, 22 Dec 1997 11:34:03 -0500 (EST)
From:             Jessica Zyvarek Taylor <jzyvarek@UDel.Edu>
Subject:          Lost

Lost
Jessica Zyvarek Taylor
Part 14

	She did her best to appear calm and collected, eating her sandwich 
in silence and pretending to be watching TV.  While Krycek was scrubbing 
the soda stain off his couch.  He hadn't even thought about the fact that 
there was more soda on him than on the couch and floor combined.  She  
tried to pay attention to the TV so that she wouldn't keep looking at him.  
Never once had it occurred to her that Krycek might care about keeping his 
couch clean.  It seemed to be the oddest character trait anyone would think 
to associate with him.  But she was as protective of her couch, so she could 
understand his haste to clean it.

	She did not, however, understand  why he was letting her sit there 
while he was cleaning up after her.  She didn't get much of a chance to 
contemplate it because a flying dish towel smacked her in the face.  She 
pulled it off her sandwich and looked at Krycek.  Now came the hard part.  
It was one thing to do something stupid.  It was an entirely different story to 
explain having done that stupid something to the person who'd witnessed the 
stupid act.  Especially when that someone was your kidnapper.  She heard  
him clear his throat and reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze.  And when 
she did, she noticed something she hadn't noticed before.  When he tried, 
or maybe just when he really wanted to, he could completely remove any  
trace of emotion from his face.  Maybe it was all those years of being an 
assassin. 

	An image of Missy walking in the door of her apartment and  being 
shot by him flashed through her mind.  She dropped the sandwich out of her 
hand and ran out of the room, crawling into her bed, his bed, and rocking 
herself into a fairly hysterical state.  She couldn't block the picture of 
Missy's empty bed from her mind.  She could see Missy looking at her,  
condemning her for her actions.  What was wrong with her?  She hated  
herself at that moment.  She hated him too.  The guilt was enough to drive 
her crazy, but she was pretty sure she was already there.

	He followed her down the hall, completely unaware of her motivation 
for tearing off like she had.  She'd been fine, then she'd taken one look at 
his face and run away crying.  He knew it was his fault, but he didn't know 
why.  And he wanted to.  He paused right inside the door for a moment, 
trying to gauge the best way to approach her.  But there was only one way 
he could think of.  He climbed onto the bed with her and pulled her towards 
him.  She struggled a little, but she was too busy hating herself to put up 
much of a fight. He tucked her head under his chin and rubbed her back.  
Maybe she'd calm down enough to tell him what was wrong.  

	She hated that he followed her.  She hated that he put his arms 
around her.  She hated that even though he was the reason she was so upset, 
he was the reason she was starting to feel better.  She didn't want to like the 
soothing way he was touching her, or the way his repeated whisper that  
everything was going to be all right  almost convinced her that it was.  She 
eventually calmed enough to push him away, but he wouldn't let her.  He  
held her tightly and she had no choice but to let him.  

	Once the tears had stopped completely, he dared to ask her why she 
was crying.  But his face was buried in her hair and she knew telling him 
would hurt him.  And even though she knew he was a murderer she didn't  
like hurting him.  She didn't want to have to hurt him.  He had taken care 
of her.  He could have done worse things than kiss her and hold her and 
make her feel better.  

	He knew when she didn't respond that he'd done something so 
terribly wrong and that she'd never ever forgive him.  But if there was one 
thing in the world he wanted right then, it was her forgiveness.  He'd never 
had anything or anybody.  And when he'd taken her, he'd experienced 
feelings he didn't think it was possible for him to feel.  He cared about her.  
He was afraid that he was beginning to love her.  She didn't, or at least 
hadn't, judged him by his actions.  She responded to him like he was a  
regular person, like he was a friend, even though he'd kidnapped her.
She'd gone along with him, even though she could have run off at a
million different times.  He'd given her enough opportunities to escape.  
And she hadn't.  After she'd given him back the keys and the hammer and
after everything she'd said, which unless he'd lost his mind entirely had 
been extremely close to flirting, after everything, he'd thought she was 
maybe starting to feel something too.  She hadn't talked to Mulder when  
he'd given her the chance and she gave him back her cell phone, and  
didn't even get mad when he bashed it into a hundred pieces.

	He leaned back, just far enough to see her face.  Her eyes still 
glistened with tears, but she wasn't crying any longer.  "What, Dana.  
Please tell me what I did."  He unwrapped his arms from around her to 
cradle her face in his hands.  He watched her face contort as she tried to 
keep from crying again. 

	She hated having to do this.  He looked so vulnerable, so caring, 
so loving.  "You-my-"  She felt the lump rise back to her throat.  She was 
certain hearing this would kill him.  She looked back down and stared at a 
button on his shirt.  She didn't want to see his face when she told him.  

	He watched her, trying to avert her eyes, even as he held her face 
in front of him.  She didn't want to hurt him.  He knew it.  "Dana, it's ok." 
 He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, almost shocked when 
she didn't pull away.  

	She glanced back up at him and shook her head.  "I can't."  She 
could deny the words as long as she didn't have to speak them.

	His hands found their way from her cheeks to her neck and tangled 
in her hair.  He waited, expecting once again for her to pull away, giving 
her enough time to decide to pull away.  When she didn't, he leaned down 
and kissed her.  

	He was so gentle that she wasn't entirely convinced he was really 
kissing her.  But he was.  And all the reasons why she should hate him 
flew right out of her head.  She felt his hands slip out of her hair and come 
back to rest on her shoulders.  She felt him push her away.  It seemed so 
unnatural, that he should be the one to push her away.  But he was afraid 
she was only kissing him out of fear.  And he didn't want that.

	He guided her head back to rest on his shoulder and then slid 
down on the bed.  He wrapped his arms back around her and smiled when her
arm tucked around his waist.  Maybe she just needed to be held.  Maybe he
just needed to be held.

	She was comfortable, even though she shouldn't be, laying in his 
bed, feeling his arms around her.  She could hear his heartbeat and she 
could feel his breath falling on her forehead.  And if she concentrated 
really hard, she could imagine that it was Mulder she was leaning on. She
could imagine how he'd respond if she walked in the office one day and
just asked him to hold her.  He'd probably have a smug grin on his face
the whole time, but he'd hold her.  And she wouldn't have to feel guilty
about enjoying it.  But she'd also have to hurt Krycek.  And by her
standards, strange as they seemed, he'd already been hurt enough.

	And just as she drifted off to sleep, her idea, her plan crossed 
her mind.  While right at that moment it was the last thing she wanted 
to do, she realized that the whole scene would just make it all the more 
convincing.


Part 15

	When he got home, his answering machine light was blinking once 
again.  Why didn't anyone ever call while he was home?  Then again, he
did spend an alarming amount of his time recently at Scully's apartment.  
He took a deep breath, not even bothering to prepare himself for what the 
message might be.  He'd pissed Krcyek off when Krcyek had already been
pissed off.  Mulder closed his eyes and silently prayed that he'd punched 
a hole in the wall rather than in Scully.

	He pressed the button and was advised by Skinner himself that 
there was something he needed to see and should come into work 
immediately.  Mulder looked at his watch.  But Skinner hadn't left a time.  
So he had no idea how late he was running.  He decided he didn't want to  
waste the time changing since he'd probably just come right back home  
after he'd seen whatever Skinner wanted him to see and desperately want  
to blow his brains out.  And wanting to blow your brains out did not require 
clean or wrinkle-free clothing, thankfully.

	He didn't bother talking to the secretary when he got there.  He 
walked past her desk and knocked on the door, not even waiting for a  
reply before walking in.  He'd already gotten enough stares from agents, he 
didn't feel like dealing with the condescending glances of the secretary, 
who of course, came to work every day in clothes fresh from the dry cleaner.  
Other than the fact that he barged in without being invited and he looked 
like he'd just rolled out of bed, Mulder believed that he was received well.  

	"I'm glad you finally got around to joining us."  Mulder winced and 
tried to look sorry.  He had obviously not gotten there soon enough.  Skinner 
motioned to a TV and VCR that had been brought in and once Mulder looked
in the appropriate direction, he continued.  "A security guard for an 
apartment building notice some odd behavior and turned this tape over to 
the police.  Somehow it wound up here."

	With that, he pressed the power button and they watched a fuzzy 
image appear on the screen.  Two people entering the lobby, a man and a 
woman.  Both were wearing hats and long coats.  It looked a lot like the 
woman was holding one of the man's hands in both of hers.  Mulder looked 
towards Skinner and upon finding that Skinner was staring back at him, 
directed his attention back to the TV.  They'd stopped walking.  And then 
the man reached up to remove the woman's hat.  Mulder felt his stomach 
drop when he saw the man run his fingers through her hair.  He knew it was 
her.  And then, right as the man, and Mulder knew it was Krycek, drug her 
forward, she turned back towards the camera.  The look on her face was 
heartbreaking in its helplessness.  Mulder looked at the date on the bottom 
of the screen.  He knew that had been right around when he'd called the 
first time.

	Skinner switched off the TV and looked at Mulder.  He waived a 
piece of paper in the air.  "Here's the address.  You want to go get her or 
should I-" He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence as Mulder grabbed 
the paper and left the office.  He'd never seen anyone move so quickly in 
his life.  He went ahead and called for back up cause he knew Mulder 
wouldn't even think of it.

	Mulder didn't feel like waiting for the elevator, so he took the 
stairs, down all eleven flights, and came close to breaking his neck quite 
a few times.  But he had to get to her.   He didn't want to storm in with a 
whole group of agents because he knew how badly she would react to that. 
He had to get her out by himself.  That way he could convince her.  Then 
someone else could go after Krycek.  As long as Scully was safe.

	He looked at the address again, even though he'd already  
memorized it.  He couldn't believe they were so close.  They were in  
Alexandria, a few miles away from his apartment.  She'd been so close.  
But not close enough.

					#####

	She hadn't counted on it happening so fast, but she had to use the 
opportunity that had just presented itself.  She sat up, watching him sleep 
for a few minutes, feeling guilty.  He looked so relaxed.  He was just
going to hold her.  She felt herself start to cry again.  She didn't want to 
leave.  But she had to.  This time, though, she knew the only compelling 
reason was that someday Mulder would find them and when he did, he'd rip
Krycek's lungs out.  She leaned over him and pressed a kiss onto his
lips.  She did love him.  Somehow, guilt and all, she did love him.

	Quietly, she pushed herself off the bed and went into the bathroom.  
She took the sleeping pills out and counted out three.  She laid them next 
to the sink and grabbed the aspirin for good measure.  She dumped the rest 
of the sleeping pills and all the aspirin in the sink, running the water until 
they dissolved.   She looked at the three pills she'd kept out.  They wouldn't 
kill her.  But they'd knock her out for a good long time.  Long enough for  
him to fall for it.  She hated doing this to him.  He'd become attached to 
her.  And now she was going to leave him too.  She put the pills in her  
mouth and swallowed before she had the chance to rethink it.  Then she  
carried the empty bottles back into the bedroom and dropped them on the  
floor.  She wasn't convinced they looked right, so she turned one in the  
other direction.  They still looked fake to her.  But that was probably just 
because they were faked and she knew it.  

	She crawled back into the bed with him, cuddling back into her 
earlier position and then starting to cry.  What if she was making a colossal 
mistake?  Too late to think about it.  She closed her eyes and waited for the 
sleep that she knew was coming.

	He was disoriented when he first woke up.  He wasn't used to being 
woken up because there was hair tickling his neck.  But then he looked down 
and remembered what had happened and smiled to himself because she'd  
stayed.  She hadn't gotten up and slept on the couch or taken the keys out of 
his jacket pocket and walked out the door.  He shifted her into a slightly
more comfortable position and turned his head to the side. 

	That's when he saw the bottles.  And noticed how limp and cold her 
arm was.  He jumped up, knowing exactly what the bottles were and cursing 
himself for having left them out.  He couldn't believe she'd do that to him.  
To herself.  She'd hated being with him so much that she was willing to kill 
herself to get away.  Panicking he grab his own cell phone from the other 
room and called the paramedics.  She was still breathing.  She was still alive. 
They could save her if they hurried. After he opened the front door, he carried 
her out to the living room and sat down with her on the floor.  He was shaking 
her, trying to wake her up, knowing he wouldn't be able to.  

	And by the time the ambulance got there, he was crying hysterically.  
He was going to lose her.  And it was all his fault.  He should have just
left her alone.  He was in a daze, trying to answer the paramedics 
questions as best he could, but he didn't know anything about her medical
history.  They made him ride in the front of the ambulance since they were
busy working on her in the back.  He couldn't stop himself from asking the
driver a hundred times 'is she going to be ok?'  and looking into the  
back, seeing nothing that looked good.  The driver kept asking him how 
many pills of what she'd taken.  And he only knew what they were, not how 
many.  And how many seemed to be the important question.  And how long 
ago.  He had no idea.  They'd been asleep for almost 4 hours.  It could 
have been at any point during that time.  

	The ride to the hospital seemed unduly long.  And no one was
telling him anything.  And when someone calls the paramedics and says 
their girlfriend just took a bottle of sleeping pills and washed it down with 
aspirin, the doctors don't assume they meant three sleeping pills.

					#####

	Mulder went running through the lobby while the ambulance was 
still sitting there.  It didn't even occur to him that it had anything to
do with her.  And by the time he reached the apartment, the place was 
empty.  He looked around, trying to figure out if they were coming back or
not.  There was food sitting on the coffee table and a sandwich sitting on
the floor, looking like it had been thrown down.  Next to the plate on the
table was a knife and a hammer.  The TV was still on, but the sound was
muted.  He began to think they'd somehow been alerted to the fact he was
coming and took off.  He willed back tears before they could form.  He
wasn't about to lose her.  Not when he was so close to getting her back.
He went back down the hall and peered in the bathroom.  Nothing of any
interest there.  Then he tried the bedroom.  The bed was suspiciously
rumpled, but he refused to even consider why.  He saw the pill bottles
tossed on the bed.  His heart started pounding as he read the labels.  He
knew.  He remembered seeing the ambulance.  

	He ran out of the apartment, waiting for the elevator because he knew 
he'd kill himself on the stairs.  Every part of his body was shaking.  And he 
could hear himself repeating 'oh, God' over and over again.  But he couldn't 
stop.  He knew he had to stop hyperventilating or he never make it to the 
hospital.  

	When he finally got to the lobby, he asked where the ambulance was 
headed.  The guards shrugged and mumbled something about 'damn ambulance
chasing lawyers.'   Mulder wanted to strangle them, but he'd have to stop
running to do that and he just didn't have the time.  Krycek had enough  
sense to call the ambulance.  But he wouldn't know anything about Scully's 
health.  And the damn car just wasn't moving fast enough, even though the 
speedometer read 90, he was sure it was a lie.

	His phone began to ring and he thought about not answering it, but 
he was too scared to ignore it.  "WHAT!"  He wasn't going to get there in 
time. He just knew it.

	Skinner almost dropped the phone when he heard Mulder screaming.
He must have already found out about the overdose.  So he told him as
quickly as he could where they were and that she was already at the
hospital, but he seriously doubted it would help.  He added that he'd 
already sent some agents over to pick up Krycek.

	Mulder was about to hang up when he realized what Skinner had  
just told him.  "Wait, what?  Krycek's at the hospital? What the hell is he 
doing there?"

	It suddenly struck Skinner that Krycek's presence was odd.  
"Apparently he rode in the ambulance with her." 

	Mulder hung up without another word.  This was Stockholm  
Syndrome, definitely if Krycek's sitting around at the hospital, knowing 
full well that agents were on their way over.  But he didn't care.  He'd 
arrange for counseling, as long as she made it out of this alive.

Part 16

	He'd gone running into the hospital with the ambulance crew, but 
they pushed him aside and took her behind some closed door.  The nurse 
was grilling him about her health.  And he didn't know the answer to any 
of the questions.  He got a strange looked when he admitted that he
didn't even know her birthdate.  But he knew they needed to know these 
things to save her.  He couldn't let her die.  He had to try.  He owed her 
that much.

	"She's an FBI agent.  The bureau has all of her medical information."  
When she called the Bureau, he knew there would be agents swarming all  
over the place.  And Mulder would probably be leading a lynch mob.  Not 
that he didn't deserve it.  But he had to do whatever he could to help her.

	The nurse looked partially satisfied with his answer and began typing 
away on her computer.  He just hoped that the FBI wouldn't mention what  
was going on.  "Can I see her?"  He tried to keep the pathetic whimpering 
tone out of his voice, but he was losing the battle.

	The nurse turned back to face him with an annoyed look.  "Sir, you'd 
be well advised to stay in the waiting room.  This is a serious condition.  
Someone will call you when you can see her."  With another disapproving 
look, she turned away in a decidedly dismissive manner and picked up her 
phone.

	He knew who she was calling and he figured it would be best if he 
wasn't sitting there when she reached them.  He'd barely reached the  
doorway when she called him back.  "What's your name?"  He felt all the 
color drain out of his face.  Could she already know?

	She must have been used to getting blank terrified stares from people, 
because she explained herself almost immediately.  "When they're ready for 
you to see her, who should they call?"

	He didn't have the time to sit and wait for them to call him.  He'd 
probably be in custody before he'd be allowed to see her.  And if Mulder 
was there, he'd probably be dead before they called for him.  "Fox Mulder."

	He turned and left the office, searching for someplace he could 
hide.  He needed to see her.  He needed to know she was going to live.  
And he couldn't go near the waiting room because it was right next to the 
office where the security guards were waiting.  He had one thing going for 
him.  He was average height, weight, and build.  He could blend in easily.  
But he was too frantic to blend in with the people walking down the hall.  
He ducked into an empty room and sat on the floor behind the curtain.  
Hopefully he could stay there for a while, at least until people stopped 
looking for him.  If the agents combed the place and didn't find him, they 
would assume he'd left.  The other thing he thought he had going for him 
was that no one would think he'd have any reason to stick around.  They'd 
have to give up after a while.  He just had to hope she'd be ok until then.

					#####

	Mulder drove the car up onto the sidewalk by the emergency room  
and left it running when he went running in the door.  He heard the security 
guard yell something at him and he flashed his badge in the general direction 
of the voice.  He tried to push his way through the group of people at the 
triage desk and failed miserably.  Everyone there was having an emergency.  
He was no more important than the rest of them.  He couldn't wait.  He had 
to see her, to know how serious the attempt had been, and to keep that sick 
bastard away from her.  If she was desperate enough to try suicide to get 
away, it must have been a hell of a lot worse than he'd imagined.  

	He walked away from the desk and tried his best to slip unnoticed 
past the nurses.  He heard someone call after him and knew he'd failed but 
he wasn't about to stop.  He just started moving faster, looking in every 
room along the way for Scully.  Sure enough, a few seconds later, two 
security guards grabbed him and tried to get him to stop.  He was ready to 
kill.  He shook free one of his arms and threw his badge at them, using the 
time they were distracted to try another door.  She wasn't in there either.


	He turned on the guards and started yelling.  He didn't care who 
heard him.  If he got his hands on Krycek one of them wouldn't live to see 
the next day.  "Where the hell is she?"  The guards suddenly found other 
things to worry about and walked in the other direction.  Luckily for Mulder, 
an innocent doctor came walking past.  He grabbed the doctor by the arm and 
started grilling him.  "Dana Scully.  Where is she?  I need to know where she 
is.  And where's the guy who came in with her?"  The doctor tried to shrug, 
but Mulder had a death grip on his arm.  Maybe if he said it louder, maybe 
then someone would know where she was.  

	He had completely lost control and he knew he was minutes away 
from seriously injuring someone.  He felt a hand clamp down on his
shoulder.  And then an understanding, yet commanding voice told him to let 
the doctor go.  He turned around to face Skinner, not even bothering to hide 
how terrified he was.  His tone was much lower, but every bit as panicked 
when he spoke again.

	"Where is she?  I need to know where she is."  He wasn't sure 
pleading with Skinner would get him anywhere, but he felt relatively  
certain that Skinner was nearly as concerned as himself.  

	"What you need, Mulder, is to calm down."  Skinner gave Mulder  
his best authoritative frown and watched Mulder's shoulders relax slightly.  
He was sure that every single muscle in Mulder's body was flexed at that 
moment.  "They're pumping her stomach."  He watched Mulder tense right
back up in sympathy.  "They said you can see her when they're done.  
Probably about fifteen minutes."  

	He'd used up every bit of energy he'd had to get to this point.  He 
felt the adrenaline wear off and he started feeling like he was going to fall 
over.  "She's alive?"  He was afraid to hope for too much.  He was still 
nervous, but just the thought that he'd be able to see her in a few minutes 
worked wonders on him.

	"Yes, and she's going to stay that way."  He steered Mulder towards 
the waiting room, through the group of agents that had amassed there.  "They 
said it was sleeping pills and they're going to try waking her."

	Mulder had never been so happy to see a chair in his life.  He dropped 
into in. And propped his head up on his hands.  He was so tired.  And in just 
a few minutes, he'd be able to see her.  Then he could rest.  He stared as 
one of the agents broke free from the group and approached Skinner.

	"Sir, we're pretty sure he's not here.  No one remembers seeing him, 
except the nurse who called us and she said she told him to go wait in the 
waiting room."  He motioned around the room, pointing out the obvious fact  
that Krycek wasn't there.  He glanced at Mulder momentarily and then
continued.  "She does clearly remember him saying his name was Fox
something."

	Mulder watched Skinner stand up and approach the other agents. But
he interrupted before Skinner got the chance to send them all away.  
Mulder stood back up, and tried his best to keep his voice quiet. "Sir,  
he's still here."

	The look on Skinner's face at that moment was the exact same 'oh,
yeah, how the hell do you know' look that Scully always gave him.  He
couldn't wait to see it on her again.  "He'll want to know how she is. I'm
sure he'll stick around until she's conscious."  Skinner's face didn't 
even register Mulder's words.  "Look, I know how it sounds, but I think, 
maybe,"  He took a deep breath and then stared straight into Skinner's 
stoic face. "I think he's started to care about her.  He'll want to know 
she's going to live before he leaves.  He'll probably want to see her."

	Skinner listened, recognizing the syndrome, but unsure of how 
Mulder knew.  He nodded slightly.  "What would you advise that I do with
these men, then?"

	Mulder shrugged.  "If he's here, he's probably close.  They'll find 
him if they search.  But I want someone outside her door at all times, 
even if they don't."

	Skinner smirked at him.  "Aren't you going to be standing guard in
her room at all times?"  He didn't wait for an answer, instead walking 
over to the agents and instructing them to find Krycek.  Not look for, but 
find.  If Mulder was wrong, he was really going to look stupid.

	The agents spread out, leaving Skinner and Mulder standing in the 
middle of the room.  Mulder didn't stay still for long.  He walked back out 
to the desk and started asking if he could see her.  And after he was assured 
at least half a dozen times that he would be notified as soon as the doctors 
were done, he went back to join Skinner.

	"Mulder, just relax."  He pretended not to see the exasperated look 
Mulder shot him.  "She'll be fine."

	"Something drove her to this.  She's not fine.  He did this to her."  
He dropped his forehead into his hands, letting the misery and helplessness 
wash over him.  He had gotten this close.  And he still couldn't be with her.  
And even when he got to her, he didn't know what he could say to her.  If 
he'd tried harder, he might have found her faster.  And then she wouldn't 
have done this.  He was so afraid that it was his fault she'd given up that he 
was almost too afraid to face her.  But the second they called his name, he 
jumped to his feet and followed the nurse down the hall.

Part 17

	The nurse directed him to the end of a short hallway and pointed 
down another hall to the right.  "Just follow the red tiles, go through the 
door and ask at the desk."  She smiled, glad to have him out of her hair, 
and then walked away.

	He looked at the floor, at the two different sets of gray tiles 
leading in different directions, and wanted to cry.  He stared after the 
nurse with a bewildered expression on his face.  He needed to find 
someone to clear up this little problem.  Luckily, Skinner had decided to 
follow him.  But had missed what the nurse had said.  He looked around, 
thinking Mulder might have spotted Krycek.

	But Mulder was too calm to have seen Krycek.  "What's wrong now,
Mulder?"  The nurse had called for him.  There was no sensible reason for
Mulder to have suddenly calmed down.

	The fact that he was colorblind was clearly noted in his records.  
But he quickly discovered that Skinner hadn't looked that closely.  Hell, 
if Scully didn't even know, why should Skinner?  "Um,"  He was too eager 
to see Scully to care about being embarrassed, but he still felt extremely 
self conscious bringing it up.  "I'm supposed to follow the red tiles."

	Skinner looked at the ground, actually noticing for the first time 
the color coded patterns on the floor.  "And?"  He didn't understand what
the catch was here.  

	"Which one's red?"  

	Skinner was too dumbstruck to even laugh.  Maybe Mulder hadn't 
learned his colors yet.  "Those."  Skinner pointed to the group of tiles on 
the right, thankfully ignoring Mulder's indignant 'I knew that' face.  
	
	But once Mulder knew which tiles to follow, he took off down the
hall, practically tearing the door off the hinges, and barely sliding to a halt 
in front of the desk.  He hadn't even gotten a chance to demand to know 
where she was when one of the doctors pointed at one of the curtained 
cubicles.  And suddenly, he stopped.  He knew he was finally able to see 
her.  And he had been told she'd be fine.  That the doctors would probably 
be able to wake her up soon.  

	He was terribly afraid to face her.  He was afraid to peer behind the 
curtain.  He could still picture the other time he'd rushed to the hospital in 
a hysterical rage to find her lying deathly pale and barely clinging to life.  
Skinner had sounded so sure that she'd be ok.  But Skinner always sounded 
sure.  And everyone knew he's lose it if he heard she wasn't going to be ok.  
He then became acutely aware of the fact that Skinner was right behind him.  
He needed do this alone.  He'd already let Skinner see him earlier.  He 
didn't want to cry in front of him too.  And he was terribly afraid he would.

	Turning back to Skinner, he realized someone needed to call 
Margaret Scully.  "Call her mother?"  His voice rose on the last word, at 
least making it seem like a question, rather than the plea to leave him alone 
with her that it actually was.  Skinner nodded, and turned back to the desk, 
even though he was well aware that her mother had already been contacted.

	Mulder approached the curtain with the same confident stride he 
always had.  And no one noticed that his eyes were closed as he drew back 
the curtain and stepped inside.  With his eyes closed, the hum of the 
machines sounded too much like the ones she'd been connected to then.  He 
knew it was probably just a heart monitor to make sure everything was all 
right, but it still scared him.  She could slice open dead bodies and pull 
them apart without flinching and he was afraid of the heart monitor.

	He couldn't wait any longer.  He had to look.  And thankfully, when 
he did, it was nothing like the last time.  He didn't get a chance to absorb 
much when an obnoxious doctor walked in and introduced herself.  Mulder 
wanted to scream at her.  Didn't she understand this was the first time he'd 
seen his partner in weeks?  And she hadn't been on the verge of suicide then.  
He stopped his analysis of Scully long enough to shoot the doctor a look that 
conveyed his unhappiness.

	"Sir, I know you want to be with your wife right now,"  Mulder 
looked back at her with a confused expression, but he didn't argue. 
Someone had probably told her how he'd been acting.  Of course they would
assume she was his wife.  "But I have the results of the tox screen. And I
think you'd be interested in hearing them."  And he would have been, but
he was positive that Scully's eyelids had fluttered, and almost opened.

	"She's - her- could she be waking up?"  He had just assumed she'd 
be unconscious for some period of time that would be entirely too long for 
his liking.

	"It's certainly possible.  We've pumped her stomach and feel 
strongly that we've gotten most of it out of her system.  The tox screen 
appears mostly within normal ranges."  Mulder looked up, curious as to 
what the doctor was getting at.  "I don't think she took more than two or 
three pills.  And if that's the case, I'd say she was aiming for a good 
night's sleep rather than suicide."  She shot him a look that clearly said 
he'd overreacted and wasted everyone's time for nothing.  "She'll probably
wake up on her own fairly quickly.  I'd like to keep her here for
observation but I don't think there's any reason why she can't go home
tomorrow."

	He looked back at Scully and noticed for the first time that she 
didn't actually look sick.  She looked, well, like she was sleeping.  He 
pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down to stare at her in awe.  She'd 
come up with the perfect to get away from Krycek.  And she probably needed
the sleep anyway.  He ran his hand lightly along her face, smiling to
himself, knowing that he was going to be the first person she saw when
she woke up.  Then he laced his fingers through hers and waited for her
to wake up.

					#####

	Krycek hadn't been in the room for more than five minutes when he
heard Mulder's voice.  Mulder was so loud, Krycek was relatively sure that
everyone in a ten mile radius could hear.  Mulder's frantic demands to see
Scully seem to echo in Krycek's head.  He wanted to see Scully.  He
wanted to know what was happening and how she was.  And Mulder was getting
louder, a pretty good indication to Krycek that he wasn't hearing
anything good.

	When Krycek couldn't hear Mulder any longer, he decided it was a
good sign.  Mulder had either heard she was all right or someone had  
knocked him unconscious.  Either choice was good news for Krycek.  He 
relaxed a little, making the assumption that she was ok.  He didn't think 
anyone working in an emergency room would knock a person out on purpose.  

	Every time he heard footsteps coming down the hall, he'd tense  
up, certain that they were looking for him.  But no one entered the room.  
Still, he knew he had to leave his hiding place.  If a full scale search 
started, behind the curtain in an empty room would be the first place 
they'd check.  It wasn't even that he was afraid of getting arrested.  He'd 
been arrested before.  He never made it all the way to the police station.
He was afraid that if they found him, he wouldn't find out how she was.
He just wanted to see her.  Once he'd seen the lengths she would go to in
order to get away from him, he no longer could stomach the thought of
forcibly taking her back.  But she didn't want to be with him.  He wasn't 
going to force her.

	And he wasn't leaving without saying good-bye.

	After another couple of minutes, he dared to slip out of the room.  
Partly because he was going to need a better place to hide, partly because 
he wanted to find out if there were FBI agents crawling all over the place, 
and partly because he wanted to see where Scully was.  He walked with  his
head slightly bent, but still with a reasonably normal speed.  Hospital 
hallways were wide and long and there was never anything in them.  He 
wouldn't be able to hide if he was spotted.  He'd just have to run for his 
life.  He found a group of doctors and followed them down the hall until 
he reached an office with an open door.  He ducked inside hoping he'd be
able to find something useful.  Even something that would point him to
where Scully was.

	He hadn't realized there was someone in there.  He tried not to 
look surprised.  He fought the urge to turn around and run.  There was 
always the chance that Mulder had somehow managed to contact every single
person in the hospital and tell them to kill Krycek on sight.  The doctor
looked slightly confused, much like he wasn't expecting someone to come
strolling into his office right then.  Krycek decided that since his 
office was so close to the emergency room, this doctor might know 
something.  And he might not have been made aware of the agents who were
walking the halls.

	He tried as hard as he could to look extremely worried.  It didn't 
take much.  He was in a really bad position and he was doing something 
that could only make it worse.  He was hell-bent on seeing Scully.  He 
might as well shoot himself.  "I'm looking for my sister.  Someone called 
and said she was brought in a little while ago."  The doctor smiled and 
typed something into his computer.

	"What's her name?"  The doctor turned back towards him, noticing 
for the first time the dark streaks on Krycek's shirt.  Krycek noticed the 
doctor's odd expression and panicked.  He looked out into the hallway, 
afraid that someone had spotted him.  Then he saw a pair of men, dressed 
in suits, looking entirely out of place because of their calm facial 
expressions.  Most people in the emergency room were upset or hurt or 
hysterical.  They didn't just meander through the hallways, looking into 
every room they passed.  This pair couldn't have been more obvious if 
they'd had a neon sign above their heads.  He was trapped.  He looked back
at the doctor who was simply looking back at him.  He didn't look 
perplexed any longer.

	Maybe he didn't know. Only one way to find out.  "Is there a problem?"  

	The doctor frowned and pointed at Krycek's shirt.  "Just got  
something on your shirt."  Krycek had completely forgotten about the 
stains from the soda on his shirt.  Huge brown streaks all the way down 
the front of his shirt.  No wonder people were looking at him funny.  He 
looked like an idiot.   The doctor was used to people acting strange and 
didn't even notice the relieved expression on Krycek's face.  "If you just 
give me her name, I might be able to tell you where your sister's at."

	Knowing the agents would be passing the office in a matter of 
seconds, Krycek stepped forward and sat down in one of the chairs facing 
the desk.  Then he twisted his fingers together in the best show of extreme 
worry he could muster.  "Dana Scully."  He was close to jumping out of his 
skin.  The agents would be behind him.  If they noticed something strange 
or recognized him, he wouldn't be prepared for  them.  He wouldn't stand a
chance of escaping.  The doctor clicked away at his keyboard.  And then 
suddenly looked up, past Krycek, and appeared to be expecting something to
happen.

	Krycek hadn't even heard their footsteps.  Probably because his 
heart was pounding so loudly.  He could tell they were there, but they 
didn't make any sort of move toward him.

	"Excuse me, have either of you noticed anyone around here acting
strangely?"

	Krycek wanted to laugh.  Subtlety wasn't one of the FBI's finer 
points.  He hoped they were paying particular attention to him and nodded
that he hadn't.  The doctor smiled at them and pointed out that when
people come to the hospital, they didn't usually act normal.  The agents
turned and left, apparently satisfied with the answers.  Krycek guessed
they were looking for someone hiding, not sitting out in the open.
Someone was still bound to recognize him, especially the more he asked
about Scully.

	"Sir?"  The doctor waited for Krycek to look up.   "She's still 
being treated, but I can point you in the right direction.  You may not be 
able to see her yet, but you can check with her doctor."  Krycek smiled in 
thanks and listened to the doctor's instructions. He left the office, feeling 
hope begin to creep up.  He might actually be able to see her.  He could tell 
her he was sorry.  He turned down the hall where the doctor had indicated.  

	And Mulder was standing about ten yards in front of him.  Skinner 
was facing him and if they turned their heads even a fraction of an inch, 
they would have seen him.

Part 18


	Krycek ducked back around the corner and cursed himself for not
having figured Mulder would be directly between him and where he wanted to
go.  And naturally Skinner was there too.  He leaned on the wall for a
moment longer and then looked back.  He watched both Mulder and Skinner
start walking again.  Odds were good that they were headed in Scully's
direction.  Once they'd gotten a little further away, he started following
them.  He knew he was taking an incredible risk, following them down the
hall, but it would be the quickest way to find Scully.  And once he'd
seen her, then he could leave.  Then he could crawl back to his miserable
life.  

	There was very little Alex Krycek could not be convinced to do. 
But there would be one difference in the future: he wouldn't hurt her. 
Never again.  It would never make up to her what he'd taken away, but it 
was all he could do.  He'd keep her safe.  She deserved that much.

	He watched them turn and go through another door.  He had no idea
what he'd run into on the other side.  They could be standing just inside,
and if they were, he'd be in considerable trouble.  He checked the hall
around him and decided he'd be in considerable trouble if any more agents
were walking around.  He inched closer to the doors and tried to see 
through the crack.  He couldn't see anything.  The debate over whether or 
not to go in continued in his head.

	Then he saw an ambulance crew rushing towards him.  He only saw
the crew and the stretcher.  He didn't see anyone that had come with the
patient.  They were probably at the registration desk, like he had been.  
This was his chance.  The perfect chance.  He pulled open the door and 
then joined the crew, keeping his head ducked when they walked right past
where Mulder and Skinner were standing.  They wheeled the stretcher into
one of the tiny curtained off areas.  No one paid any attention to him as
they transferred the woman from the stretcher to the bed and gave notes to
the hospital crew.  He saw some of the doctors giving him an odd look and
he was afraid they recognized him as the man who'd come in with Scully.
He took the woman's hand and thought about Scully.  He knew the desired
worried look would reappear on his face.  He waited and after a few
minutes, the doctors pulled the curtain the rest of the way around the
bed.  He stepped away from the bed and decided that the only way he'd see
her was if he checked every cubicle until he found her.  But he'd have to
be careful.  He couldn't let Mulder see him.  And he couldn't let anybody
else see him for that matter.  People accompanying loved ones to emergency
rooms probably wouldn't take too well to someone walking through and
looking at them.

	He'd just have to take his chances.  He had to see Scully.  He 
would see Scully. He had to.  He leaned towards the curtain and listened.  
He couldn't hear anything.  That information was completely useless to 
him.  He was about to pull the curtain back slightly and peer in when he 
heard someone, most likely a doctor, start talking.  He listened closely, 
hoping to catch a name.  But the doctor wasn't talking loudly and no one 
was responding.  Krycek waited until he heard the doctors footsteps leave.  
He pulled the curtain a tiny bit and peeked through.  He couldn't see much 
more than the bed.  And with the head raised like it was, he couldn't see 
who was on the bed.  He leaned a little further and saw a hand.  A man's 
hand holding the hand of the woman in the bed.  He still had no idea if it 
was Scully or not and at the rate he was going he'd have to walk in the 
room before he could tell.

	And then he saw the man's hand untangle itself form the woman's.  
He watched the man, who's face he still couldn't see, reach toward the 
woman's face.  After another second, the hand withdrew and went back to 
holding the woman's.  Krycek released his hold on the curtain and leaned 
against the wall.  He desperately wanted to be with Scully at that second.  
He desperately wanted to hold her hand and caress her face and know that 
she'd be fine.  He pulled the curtain back again, watching the couple in the 
next room.  He couldn't see anything besides their hands, but he was still 
seized with envy.  He'd never have that.  Not with Scully, not with 
anyone.  He didn't deserve it.

	And then he watched the man lean over the bed.  From the man's 
posture,  from the careful way the man moved, Krycek knew he could only be
kissing her.  

	He felt tears spring to his eyes as he watched Mulder sit back 
down.  She loved Mulder.  Krycek knew it, had known it, but it still hurt.  
It hurt because he'd known how much Mulder loved her for years.  Because 
he'd known how much she loved Mulder right back.  But Krcyek had still 
managed to convince himself for the short time she'd been with him that 
maybe she could love him.  That maybe he could take Mulder's place in her
heart.

	He was a fool.  A pathetic little fool.  And he'd never have her.  
Once again, he let go of the curtain and stepped back.  Best to give this up 
before Mulder killed him.  He was so close, too close to not get caught if 
he didn't get out of there.  It wasn't worth dying for someone who didn't 
love you back.

	He checked to make sure Skinner wasn't looking and then slipped 
out of the room.  Skinner's back was turned and Krycek could see that he 
was on the phone.  Probably talking to yet another person who deserved to 
know that Scully was all right.  Someone else that Scully actually cared 
about.  

	Once he'd safely made it out the door of the unit, Krycek's pace 
quickened into a run and he didn't slow down until he reached the far side 
of the parking lot.  He hailed a cab and tried to forget her.

					#####

	Mulder smiled to himself as he watched her sleep.  He had almost 
lost her yet again and he'd gotten her back.  And he'd promised himself, 
the same as all the other times that he would tell her how much he loved 
her if he got her back.  Here he was, sitting in the hospital room, holding 
her hand and just loving her.  Knowing the minute she opened her eyes that
he'd be so happy to see her awake and so afraid of seeing those eyes 
reject him that he'd never mention it.  But even if she rejected him, and 
broke his heart into a million pieces, she still deserved to know.  She 
would need to know it to get through this.  He knew it wouldn't be easy 
for either of them.  

	And then he realized what was happening.  He was in love with her.
He had been for a long time.  He could tell her.  And for the seconds that
would pass before she rejected him, she would know that he loved her and
he would know that she knew it.  Even if she hated him, it would probably
make her happy to know that someone loved her.  Even if it was only him.

	He leaned forward, letting go of her hand for just a minute, and 
kissed her cheek.  He couldn't believe that he was actually in love.  He'd 
thought after everything he'd been through that he was immune to it.  But 
he wasn't.  He sat back down in the chair, thinking that it would probably 
be better for him not to be breathing down her neck when she woke up. And
she was going to wake up.  The doctor had promised him.  

	He didn't have another chance to think before her head turned 
slightly towards him.  He felt her hand squeeze his.  Then she opened her
eyes and smiled at him.

Part 19
	She slowly became aware of noises around her.  Beeps and hums and
distant voices.  She was tired.  Very very tired.  And her stomach
hurt. She knew they'd pump it, but since she'd never before had the
pleasure, she didn't realize how much it would hurt.  She'd have to keep
this in mind for the next time she tried to kill herself.  

	The pressure she hadn't even noticed on her hand relaxed.  And  
then she very definitely felt someone lean over her and kiss her cheek.  
Then he took her hand again.

	She knew it was Mulder.  She recognized the cologne.  He had 
probably worried himself sick over her.  And he probably wouldn't believe 
the attempt hadn't been serious.  She opened her eyes slowly.  Before she 
even focused on Mulder, Krycek crossed her mind.  She forced herself to 
smile at Mulder, trying to rid herself of anymore thoughts of Krycek.  She 
was happy to see Mulder.  She was happy to see him smile, a real, 
completely unguarded smile.  She was happy to know that everything would 
go back to normal.

	He said nothing to her, just sat there, holding her hand and smiling.  
She felt the guilt, a now familiar emotion, rise up.  She squeezed his hand.  
He was so happy just to see her awake.  He'd spent the entire time thinking 
about and worrying about and caring about her.  She hadn't thought of nearly 
as much as she should have.  She didn't want to cry.  If she cried, he'd want 
to know what was wrong and she'd have to tell him and he'd never speak to 
her again and even if he did she'd never be able to face him again.  She 
simply couldn't tell him about how she'd listened to Krycek's words and 
comforted him.  Mulder could never find out that she'd let Krycek hold her 
or kiss her.  And she could easily imagine exactly how quickly Mulder would 
go through the roof if he ever heard that she'd spent the night in Krycek's 
arms.  It would be bad enough if Mulder knew she'd been the slightest bit 
sympathetic towards Krycek.  This would have to be the one thing, the only 
thing, she would hide from Mulder forever.

	She tried to keep her mind on Mulder, on what was happening, on 
anything but Krycek.  It was useless.  All she could think of was how 
peaceful he'd looked when she woke up in his arms. How comfortable she'd 
felt sleeping next to him.  How nice he'd been to her.  He'd kidnapped her, 
she could admit that.  But he could have been a hell of a lot meaner to her.  
And he hadn't been.  He'd cared about her.  She'd cared about him.  

	And she had a sneaking suspicion that she always would.

	The protective silence that enveloped them dissipated all too quickly.  
She heard Mulder clear his throat, suddenly shifting back into 'partner' 
mode. She knew the internal turmoil had reflected on her face.  She had seen 
the answering concern on his face.  She didn't know what there was that 
he could say to make her feel better, but she loved that he was going to try.

	He hadn't intended to whisper, but his voice lacked its normal tone 
and he didn't have the strength to force it.  Luckily, she was so quiet that he 
knew she'd be able to hear him.  "I know what's going on here.  How you're 
feeling.  I understand, Scully."  He tried to ignore the hopeful look on her 
face.  But it disappeared before he really had the chance.  He saw the hope 
die in her eyes and he knew she was thinking he'd never understand.  He 
knew she'd be embarrassed and probably elusive about what had happened to
her.  And about how she'd reacted.  But it hadn't been something she could
consciously control.  He had to let her know that.  He had to help 
alleviate the guilt she had to be feeling.

	"It's called Stockholm Syndrome."  He could have sworn he'd seen 
recognition flash across her face.  "That's what you're suffering from."

	As he explained the syndrome to her, she got more and more wrapped
up in her own thoughts.  He'd said suffering.  Was she suffering?  She
didn't feel like she was suffering.  And she certainly hadn't been 
suffering while she'd slept. She knew the name and vaguely remembered 
things about it, but she didn't see how it involved her.  Krycek hadn't made 
her suffer.  And when she'd seen how easily she could make him happy, it 
hadn't hurt her at all.  Since when was being someone's friend considered 
suffering?  

	She wanted to ask, she wanted to demand that he listen to her side, 
but she didn't.  If she tried to explain, she'd end up telling him exactly 
what she'd promised herself she wouldn't tell him.  She knew listening to 
Mulder explain would completely convince her.  He always managed to 
convince her.   And she knew she didn't have the strength to fight with him 
over this.  She'd never be able to make him understand that Krycek hadn't 
purposefully done anything to make her care about him.  It was ridiculous 
to argue.  Mulder hated Krycek and he would never accept that she could 
feel differently.  And if she hadn't experienced it, she would never have 
believed it herself.

	She nodded when it seemed appropriate and mumbled what she assumed
were the proper responses.  She needed to put Krycek out of her mind and
move on with her life.  But she'd never be able to do that unless she got
some kind of closure on her relationship with Alex Krycek.

					######

	He had set out intent on forgetting her.  And for some ridiculous 
reason, he found himself standing in her apartment.  Not exactly the best 
way to forget her.  But he was sure agents were back at his place, just 
waiting for him to come home.  And he had no place better to go.  Besides, 
he felt closer to her here,  in her apartment.  It was about as close as he 
would ever get.  Mulder would let him near her again.

	He looked around, thinking back on the last time he'd been in her 
apartment.  It had been a different one, of course, but all the things were 
the same.  He remembered ransacking the place, tearing through her 
belongings, breaking things she cared about.  He'd felt no remorse then.  
But he felt it now.  He'd felt nothing as he he'd stood there in the dark, 
listening to someone putting keys in the door, thinking it was Scully, 
waiting to kill her.  And after he'd killed her sister, the only thing he was 
sorry for was the fact that he'd messed up and in his line of work, 
messing up usually meant death.  He almost wished they'd succeeded in 
their attempt on his life.  Then he wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

	He sat down on her couch, clenching his jaw in an attempt to 
physically stop the tears that threatened.  Thankfully, he hadn't killed 
Scully.  He'd caused her pain, not the least of which was murdering her 
sister, but he hated even the thought that he'd almost killed Scully.

	It took him twenty minutes of clenching his jaw painfully before 
he was fairly certain he wasn't going to cry.  Crying wouldn't do him any 
good.  Nothing would.  He shook his head, smiling ruefully as he looked 
around.  What the hell was he doing?  He'd managed to fall in love with the 
woman he'd kidnapped.  The woman who was in love with the man who was
quite possibly his biggest enemy.  No one hated him nearly as much as 
Mulder did.  The more he thought about it, the worse the situation seemed.  
He was used to just taking whatever he wanted.  And while he had, 
technically, just taken Scully, it wasn't the same.  He couldn't keep her.  
And he couldn't kidnap her again.  Even though she'd reacted better than 
he'd planned the first time, she undoubtedly wouldn't appreciate a second 
kidnapping.

	He looked at his watch, more for something to do than because he 
particularly cared about the time.  Scully wouldn't be leaving the hospital 
for at least another day.  He was dead certain that Mulder wouldn't leave 
her side.  Krycek stretched out on the couch and picked up the remote for 
the TV.  She wouldn't be home tonight.  He had a place to sleep.  For the 
night anyway.

Part 20

	As she listened to him explain her "condition," she felt herself 
growing more and more tired.  It wasn't that he was boring her- it was 
just that she didn't believe what he was telling her about her feelings 
being nothing more than a defense mechanism and she was still affected by
the pills and his voice had taken on a wonderfully lulling tone that  
worked magic on her frayed nerves.  She let her eyes drift closed a few 
times, trying to seem interested for Mulder's sake.  Maybe it was just the 
pills she'd taken, but for once in her life she didn't want something to be 
logically explained and analyzed and it also happened to be the one time 
Mulder wasn't willing to believe blindly.  She knew he could tell she was 
falling asleep and hadn't been listening to the better part of the lecture.  
She realized that his explaining away her feelings was actually his very 
own defense mechanism.  He was protecting himself.  He was afraid to admit
her feelings for Krycek might be real.  Had she been in his position, or
had she not seen the other side of Krycek, the caring, concerned, lovable 
side, she never would have understood it either.

	Her eyes started staying closed for longer periods and his voice 
became extremely fuzzy.  She knew she was falling asleep, and she welcomed
it.  There was always the hope that things would get much clearer if she
just got a little more rest.  She tried to catch on to what he was saying,
already knowing she'd zoned out for a long period.  She heard the word
'lamp' and decided she'd either missed a lot more of the conversation than
she'd originally thought or she was dreaming.  It didn't matter.  Mulder
hadn't said anything about a lamp.  She could at least count on that.

				#####

	It bothered him that she wasn't agreeing or disagreeing or even 
nodding much.  He got the distinct impression that she wasn't even 
listening.  He was talking nervously, his voice a little too high, way too 
fast, and his sentences weren't going in a logical order.  She didn't seem 
to notice.  He kept talking.  He was talking more to hear himself, to listen 
to the explanation because he needed to hear it again.  She'd smiled at him 
when she first woke up, but she hadn't really looked all that pleased to see 
him.  That bothered him.  As much as he'd learned about the syndrome, he 
still wasn't comfortable watching her exhibit even classic symptoms.  

	By the time he'd said pretty much everything he could possibly 
think of, he knew she was drifting in and out.  But whenever he'd stop to 
catch his breath or think of something else to say, her eyes would open, 
looking slightly confused.  She wanted to hear him, but she didn't want to 
listen to him.  That was fine with him.  If she wanted him to talk to her, 
then he would talk.  He'd talk until every last thought of Alex Krycek was 
completely erased from her mind and then he'd talk a little more.  At least 
she wasn't afraid of him as he'd originally supposed she would be.  
Unfortunately, he was out of things to say and she was still partially awake.  
Maybe this would be the perfect time to bring up the fact that he'd trashed 
her living room.

	He briefly mentioned the lamp he'd broken and her eyes flew open.  
Maybe she had been listening.  He was ready to beg for mercy when he 
realized he'd never seen her look so confused.  She looked at him for a 
second and then closed her eyes once again.  He knew she didn't have the 
faintest idea what he was talking about.  He continued to tell her what he'd 
broken, but her eyes remained closed.  And she was asleep by the time he 
finished.

	He spent the rest of the evening sitting by her side, even after her 
mother arrived.  He completely ignored the doctor's orders that only one 
of them could stay with her.  Not being sure how much he should tell her 
mother, he said nothing.  But she was too busy worrying about Scully to 
even noticed Mulder's remarkably unobtrusive behavior.  He stayed with her
even after they moved her up to another room for the night and her mother
gave up and went home.  And he was there early the next morning, sound
asleep, resting his head on her bed, next to their entwined hands, when
she woke up again.

	She was afraid of making even the slightest move.  She knew, from 
his pale face and the dark circles under his eyes, that he hadn't slept nearly 
as much as he should have while she was gone.  She wanted him to sleep now
that he was finally able to rest.  After she watched him a few minutes, 
she slid her hand out of his and ran it lightly along his face.  She
couldn't believe she'd hurt him.  She hadn't done anything specifically,
but she'd done plenty by choosing to do nothing.  He'd already been hurt
enough. She took his hand once again and let him sleep, even making the doctor 
speak quietly when he came in.  She received her discharge instructions 
and signed everything that needed to be signed.  She carefully unhooked  
herself from the machines and Mulder slept through it all.  She started to 
wonder if he hadn't gotten into some sleeping pills himself.  Either that or 
he hadn't slept at all in the time she was gone, which after reading her 
chart, she established to be three and a half weeks.

	She was ready to go, except for getting dressed which she couldn't 
do while she was holding his hand.  She nudged his shoulder gently, 
figuring she could wake him up easily.  She knew the position he was in had 
to be horribly uncomfortable.  She ruffled his hair and whispered his name 
and was rewarded with his eyes opening.  He looked confused for a minute, 
then sat up noticeably grimacing and rubbing his neck.  But then he saw who 
was waking him up.  And he saw the gentle smile on her face.  And he  
smiled back, no longer feeling at all uncomfortable.

					#####

	Krycek awoke to the sound of a car door slamming.  That was odd,
considering he lived on the twenty-third floor and he never opened his 
windows.  He sat up, rubbing his eyes and wondering when he'd stopped 
fitting on his couch.  And then he remembered.  He hadn't intended to sleep 
into the morning.  It was already well past dawn and the odds of someone 
spotting him were frighteningly high.  He walked to the windows and looked 
out, trying to locate the unmarked gray sedan parked across the street about 
half a block away.  Someone would be watching her building.  Watching for 
him. 

	And while he was scanning the street to find out which way not to
go, he heard someone in the hall.  Probably one of her neighbors.  She 
wouldn't be out of the hospital so quickly after a suicide attempt.  It just 
wasn't possible.  But he heard voices as they got closer.  Definitely a man 
and a woman.  He was frozen there, in the middle of the living room, afraid 
to move.  He waited another moment, and after he heard the voices stop 
moving right outside the door, he realized he had to get out of there.  But 
the men in the car that he was sure had to be there would probably notice 
someone climbing out her window.  He took a gamble that Mulder, if that 
was the man with her, would leave relatively quickly and that no one would 
need to hang anything up immediately.  He'd barely gotten the closet door 
closed behind him when the front door swung open.

	If Mulder found him, hiding in Scully's apartment, Mulder would 
kill him.  Absolutely no questions asked.  And Scully probably wouldn't be
all that happy finding him there either.  He wanted to bang his head into 
the wall for his sheer stupidity that caused him to spend the night there.  
But they'd notice the noise.  He'd have to wait until later to berate himself.  
Krycek slid as far back as he could and pressed his ear to the wall.  He at 
least wanted some sort of warning if they were about to open the door.  He 
couldn't make out what they were saying, if they were even still speaking.  
It was very quiet and it could just as easily be the television.  He 
pressed his ear into the wall harder and tried to hear.  Maybe they were
whispering and he probably didn't want to know what they were saying
anyway.  He'd have to get out of town for a while.  If he lived long
enough to get out of her apartment.  Highly unlikely considering his
predicament.

Part 21

	Eventually, Krycek gave up trying to hear.  His ear had gone numb 
and it hadn't helped.  He'd heard the door close behind them when they 
came in, so he'd probably be able to hear when Mulder left.  If Mulder left.  
An odd mix of jealousy and sorrow ran through him at the thought that 
Mulder would stay all night.  Krycek didn't want to think about Scully 
sleeping in Mulder's arms the same way she'd slept in his own.  He knew in
all likelihood that it happened on a regular basis, considering how close 
they were, but it bugged him.  He wasn't used to feeling like this.  It was 
her business who she slept with and he knew it.  But he didn't like the idea 
of her with anyone else.  And he truly hated the idea that it was Mulder.

	Time ticked away, and in a dark closet, where a man six feet tall 
had just barely managed to sit down in, time ticked away very very slowly.  
Every few minutes, he'd look in the direction of his watch and then realize 
he couldn't see anything.  He'd press his ear back to the wall and hear the 
same quiet drone of voices.  With his luck, they'd probably come in and 
turned on the radio and left.  And he'd sit in the closet until he went stark 
raving mad.  Or decided to make a break for it.  He felt himself start to nod 
off several times, but had to stop himself.  As much as it would alleviate the 
boredom, them finding him asleep in her closet was the only thing worse 
than them finding him awake in her closet.

	He started to contemplate exactly what would happen if he gave 
himself up.  Then he suddenly noticed something: quiet.  He listened as 
hard as he could and there was no more talking.  Suddenly,  the voices 
returned, but they'd grown louder and more distinct.  And they seemed to
be getting louder every second.  Krycek couldn't believe it.  He knew they
argued, but they were fighting.  Actually fighting.  He hated himself for
it, but a smile spread across his face.  They were fighting about him.  
Scully was defending him.  He loved it.

	He pressed his ear against the wall and tried to catch every word 
she said.  "NO!"  She sounded like she was incredibly annoyed, almost as 
if they'd been discussing the same thing for a while.  Krycek grinned 
harder at the thought that she'd been defending him throughout the entire 
conversation he hadn't been able to understand earlier.  "That's not what 
I'm saying, Mulder.  I just want- never mind.  Just forget it."  Krycek could 
imagine her pouting and crossing her arms.  She was so cute when she was 
angry.

	"I'm not about to forget it.  Skinner isn't about to forget it.  No one 
is EVER going to forget it."  Krycek winced at the biting tone in Mulder's 
voice.  Scully was, no doubt, backing away from him.  Krycek wanted to run
out there and defend her.  But he desperately wanted to hear her defending
him.  "There are other agents investigating this case, Scully.  They
aren't just going to let it go.  It's not like it's just me out looking
for you."  Krycek's heart sunk in his chest at the verbal clarification
that people were once again after him.  He had no way of knowing that
while Mulder's words were technically true in the sense that there were
actually agents assigned to the case, the words were lies because none of
the agents cared and nobody would argue about having to close the case.

	"They can investigate all they want, Mulder, but I want you to call 
off the manhunt.  You'd think he'd killed someone."  She paused for a 
moment after that, and Krycek sank back against the wall.  He'd killed 
plenty of people.  And she'd obviously just remembered that fact.  Then 
her voice returned, much lower, but still loud enough for Krycek to hear 
her.  "He didn't even hurt me.  He could have and he didn't."  Mulder 
wasn't convinced by her words and they all knew she was losing the 
argument.  It was blatant in the defeated tone of her voice.  She sounded 
like she was about to get down on her knees and beg.  Krycek was proud.  
Of himself for finally being able to feel love fro someone and for actually 
having earned the love of that person in return.  And he was proud of Scully 
for coming so close to telling Mulder the truth.  He was sure that if Mulder 
continued to push her, then she'd admit to her feelings.  Then they'd both 
be rid of Mulder for good.

					#####

	Mulder bit his lip and sighed.  It was as bad as he'd thought.  She 
wasn't listening and she wasn't seeing what was really going on here and 
she was defending Alex Krycek.  He was sure if she just sat down and 
thought about it on her own, she'd immediately see exactly how wrong she
was.  But he was telling her to sit down and think about it and she was 
therefore refusing to do it.  She was starting to whine at him and he gave in 
and started to whine back.  "But he *did* hurt you, Scully.  That's why, 
that's EXACTLY why you don't think he hurt you."  She was breaking. He was
sure.  He resorted to using the quiet, pathetic, whiny voice that always
made her sigh and let him have his way.  It had never failed him before.
There was a chance it could work here.

	At some point, she'd stood up and begun pacing.  She wasn't giving
any logical reasons, which made Mulder assume, correctly, that she just
didn't want Krycek arrested because she cared about him.  She could admit
it to herself, but she couldn't fathom telling Mulder.  She'd already
decided she was keeping this to herself.  But Mulder knew the exact words
to say and the exact tone to use to make her give in. Something he seemed
to have known since the first moment he'd laid eyes on her.  But he
couldn't have his way this time.  Because if he did, she didn't think he'd
ever forgive her.  It wasn't fair that she should have to fight to keep
her personal feelings to herself.  It seemed to her that by five years
into their relationship he should know when to drop an issue, especially
when he claimed to understand how she was feeling.  Just this once, she
absolutely couldn't let him win.  Krycek's life depended on it. She
slammed her fist into the mantle, which she suddenly noticed was 
completely devoid of all her things.  "Mulder..." 

	"He kidnapped a federal agent and held her prisoner.  He's going 
to jail.  And I'm personally going to make sure he stays there."  He stood 
up, done with the argument.  He was angry that she was taking Krycek's 
side.  He was angry that for the first time in five years she wasn't allowing 
him to have his way.  And there was only one explanation for why.  Krycek
had come between them.  Maybe she was completely unaware of exactly how
much she was hurting his feelings, but she was still doing it.  And he had
to get away from her before he started maliciously hurting hers.  His
voice came out strained, the pain he felt clearly reflected in it. "He's a
murderer, Scully."  He turned away from her, knowing they'd both lost the
fight and there was no point in talking about it anymore.  It was hurting
both of them too much.

	She closed her eyes and fought back the tears that instantly formed 
at the utter truth in his words.  "Don't walk away from me."  She stood 
there, waiting for him to sit back down, or at least look back at her.  But 
he continued to gather his things.  She absolutely could not comprehend 
that Mulder was turning his back on her and walking away.  It just wasn't 
something he ever did.  Not to her.  She always had to back down or walk 
away because he could, and would, stand there till hell froze over and 
continue to argue while all the little devils skated figure eights around 
him.  He reached for his jacket and put it on, completely ignoring her.  
She couldn't see his face so she had no way of knowing that he was only 
hiding from her because he was crying.  For some reason, he just didn't 
want her to know how badly she was hurting him by her allegiance to Krycek.  

	She felt her jaw drop open.  Five years.  In five years he'd never 
ever been so rude to her.  And it made her angry.  Silently, she watched 
him walk out the door and slam it behind him.  She saw the lamp shake from
the force.  And she abruptly realized that it wasn't her grandmother's 
lamp.  Had someone redecorated while she was gone?  She opened the window
and waited for him to appear out front of the building.  Once he did, she
screamed after him.  "And where the hell is my lamp?"

Part 22

	She didn't expect him to respond to her shout and he didn't let her 
down.  She couldn't understand what had gone so horribly wrong with the 
day.  It had started out so well- they'd both been fine when they left the 
hospital, happy even.  They'd been in the parking lot then, looking around 
for where Skinner had put Mulder's car rather than let hospital security 
tow it away from the curb where Mulder'd left it.  They'd given up on 
finding it for a moment and were standing silently in the middle of an 
empty parking space.  She'd felt an inexplicable urge to break the 
comfortable silence.  The previous weeks seemed so surreal, as had the 
past day, that she needed to hear Mulder's voice to keep herself grounded 
in reality.  She'd spoken quietly, wanting to keep emotions, especially 
regret, out of her voice. She'd explained her escape plan in one sentence, 
one long sentence, and then begun walking again.  He had either been 
caught off guard by her words or he was trying to comprehend them because
he remained where he was for several minutes.  But then he'd caught up to
her just as she stumbled across the car.  She turned to him, not sure of
what she was expecting, but knowing she was expecting something.  She
needed some kind of reaction from him.  He held her gaze until she glanced
away and then he smiled.  The innocent admiration in his eyes had made her
feel guilty and she'd turned to face the car.  

	As he unlocked her door, he'd rested his free hand on her shoulder, 
the closest he'd ever come to actually putting his arm around her.  She 
thought he was doing it to convince himself that she was really there. 
She'd stayed there, staring off into space, trying to silently encourage the 
contact.  When he was obvious about his feelings for her, it was difficult 
for her to think of anything else.  And as she'd stood there, expecting him 
to walk away any second, his other hand moved to rest on her other 
shoulder.  He'd leaned against her, lightly pressing her into the car and 
she'd felt him softly kiss the back of her head.  It was such a sweet gesture 
that she'd wanted to cry.  But his hands didn't linger a second longer.  He 
walked around the car and got in, seeming almost impatient with her slow 
movements.  

	They'd stayed silent, not quite comfortable, but not uncomfortable 
either.  It was an apathetic silence.  But eventually, they'd started to speak 
and the conversation gradually turned to her kidnapping and her 
"condition."  And even though it was terribly awkward, it had remained 
amiable for almost two hours.  But he had to go and casually mention that 
the agents were staking out Krycek's building and how they were going to 
catch him soon.  And that's when everything had gone to hell.

	So now she was sitting alone in her apartment, feeling extremely 
upset and there was no one to talk to.  Mulder was the only one she ever 
really talked to and when they were fighting, or she needed to talk about 
something personal, she didn't talk to anyone.  She'd been fully aware 
that Mulder wouldn't understand or support her concern for Krycek.  It 
made no sense to her then that she was sitting on her couch feeling 
disappointed.  Mulder had let her down before.  She couldn't figure out 
what made this so different.  She finally admitted that while she'd told 
herself to expect no more, she'd continued to hope he'd surprise her.  And
even if he couldn't understand, he should have respected her feelings. He
was too busy trying to convince her that he understood to actually understand.

	She didn't want to spend the day sitting there and getting 
hopelessly annoyed with Mulder.  She knew that he really was trying to 
help.  He was just too close to her to be an objective psychologist and he 
was suffering from the delusion that she had conscious control over her 
feelings for Krycek.  Thinking about the situation would just make her 
more angry, if that was possible.  Getting angry, especially getting angry 
at Mulder, was useless.  Maybe she could just clear her mind and relax. 
This was the first chance she'd gotten to enjoy the fact that she was free 
and that she didn't need to feel guilty.  Looking around her living room, 
though, she realized it was just as easy to get bored at home as it was to 
get bored in captivity.

	She sighed and stretched out on the couch.  She shouldn't still be 
tired, but having nothing to do always made her want to sleep.  She turned 
her face into the pillow and wished, again, that she could fall asleep and 
everything would be fixed when she woke up.  But as she lay there, trying 
to think of nothing, she noticed a faint scent around her.  She assumed at 
first that it was Mulder, but it wasn't.  She couldn't place it.  It seemed 
familiar, not nearly as familiar as Mulder's aftershave, but she definitely 
recognized it.  The thought that it was Krycek crossed her mind for all of 
two seconds before it occurred to her exactly how ridiculous that was. 
Krycek was long gone.  He'd probably taken off right after he called the 
ambulance.  And while she was denying it, she remembered when she'd slept
next to him.  It was him.  She knew it.  She unconsciously pressed her 
face further into the pillow and decided the scent of him must have stayed 
on her clothes- the clothes he'd given her.  The clothes she suddenly 
decided she was keeping forever.

	She drifted off to sleep for no more than ten minutes.  And when 
she opened her eyes, Krycek was standing over her.

					#####

	He waited and waited, but after her scream about the lamp, he 
heard nothing.  He couldn't hear her moving around or watching TV or 
anything.  She was being impossibly quiet and he was sure she'd probably 
be able to hear him breathe if she listened closely.  The silence was 
driving him crazy.  He wanted to strangle Mulder for upsetting a woman 
who'd tried to kill herself not even twenty-four hours earlier but it wasn't 
something he could do while he was hiding in her hall closet.  The thought 
that she might try it again struck him and he began to panic.  With all the 
things she had at her disposal in her apartment, she'd probably succeed.  

	He continued to listen to nothing and worry until he couldn't sit 
still any longer.  His hands shook as he reached for the door knob.  He 
wasn't afraid of her reaction to seeing him there, he was afraid that she 
was hurt or about to hurt herself.  He couldn't live with himself if he 
stood by and let that happen.

	He turned the knob as quietly as he could.  He wanted to get an 
idea of where she was and what she was doing before he announced his 
presence if it was at all possible.  He closed the door behind him and 
carefully made his way into the living room.  His breath caught in his 
throat when he saw that she was all right.  She was sleeping, no wonder 
she was so quiet.  That possibility hadn't even occurred to him.

	He'd gotten the chance he'd wanted.  He was able to see her. She'd
be fine, he was relatively sure of that now.  And regardless of his  
certainty that he only needed to see her one more time, he walked over to
the couch instead of heading for the door.  

	He just looked at her, sleeping in the sweatsuit he'd bought for 
her, on the same couch he'd spent the night on.  He wished silently that 
she would open her eyes and just look at him.  Just once more, just look 
at him with her beautiful forgiving eyes and not flinch or get scared.  
Maybe even smile.

	And suddenly, his wish came true.

Part 23

	He was so shocked she'd woken up that he stood there like an idiot.  
Then only think he could think to do was clench his jaw.  So he did.  And 
then he realized that whenever he did that he looked horribly angry, so he 
stopped.

	She was just laying there.  She wasn't moving or acting upset or 
looking scared.  He thought he recognized some kind of concern in her eyes, 
but he wasn't sure because no one had ever looked at him like that.  That's 
what made her so special.  That and the simple fact that he'd fallen in love 
with her.  He met her eyes for a moment before he started looking around 
nervously.  He should never have even gone there.  He should have been 
happy enough that he'd gotten another chance to see her, to know she'd be 
fine.  

	But he wasn't.  He wasn't content, especially now that she wasn't 
running from him.  She was in her own apartment.  He was the outsider 
here.  She had plenty of opportunities to hurt him or, at the very least, 
escape.  She could pick up the phone and call Mulder and if she did, Krycek 
knew he'd wind up dead.  She chose to sit there and watch him instead.

	The slightly confused expression on her face melted into a child-like 
wide-eyed stare.  He lost any ability he might have had to process thoughts 
and kneeled down beside her.  He actually felt butterflies in his stomach as 
he watched her.  He'd never been so nervous in his life.  But more was 
riding on this than ever had been before.

					#####
	She was sure she was dreaming.  He couldn't actually be there. 
She'd been thinking about him immediately before she drifted off and part
of her had wished momentarily that she was back in his apartment and
sleeping in his arms and her imagination had simply conjured him up in
front of her.  She couldn't think of anything to say or do, so she just 
watched him.  She was happy to see him and she wanted to tell him, but she
didn't.  She was expecting him to turn around and leave or grab her and
drag her off again.  She began to think about what Mulder would do if he
found Krycek with her and she was too concerned with that to even notice
how nervous Krycek was.  She stared up at him, knowing she was allowing
him more power than it was wise to give him.  She'd let him do anything he
wanted.  If he ever decided to do anything at all.

	Just as she was sure he was going to stay still forever, he knelt 
down.  She was miserably confused.  She was so happy that he was there 
with her, that he wasn't mad at her for what she'd done, but she couldn't 
help remembering Mulder's gentle kiss and how he's slept holding her hand,
how he'd only be able to sleep because he was holding her hand.  And while
she thought of Mulder, she watched Krycek's hand slowly reach out towards
her.

	He touched her cheek lightly, as if he was afraid she'd break.  
Or scream.  She didn't.  She trusted him.  And she was enjoying his 
hesitant caress.  She knew she shouldn't, but she did.  His hand slid back 
into her hair and rested there.  She wanted to sit up and kiss him, but she 
had finally realized how frightened he was.  She could see that he was 
shaking.  He was actually afraid that she'd reject him.  If she moved at 
all, he'd probably run away and never look back.  She'd never see him 
again.  Besides, she was so nervous herself that she doubted she had the 
strength to sit up.

	When his hand ran back against her cheek, she leaned into it.  Her 
mind was telling her how wrong this was, but the rest of her wanted 
nothing more.  She met his eyes and tried to convey her feelings without 
speaking or moving.  And slowly, very slowly, he leaned forward, holding 
her gaze the entire time.

	It seemed to her that it took hours before his lips delicately pressed 
against hers.  But the contact was far too light and short.  He obviously 
hadn't expected her to respond.  That much was clear to her from the way 
he started to pull back.  But she'd have none of it.  She didn't care what 
Mulder thought.  She wanted this.  Suddenly remembering she had control 
over her limbs, her arms wrapped around him, one hand running into his 
hair and pulling him closer to her.

	He didn't need any more reassurance.  Once he knew she was 
welcoming his kiss, he leaned even further over her and pressed her back 
against the couch.  He was trying to let her decide how far this should go, 
and she could tell he was having a hard time of it.  She was afraid that 
he'd push her away again, like he had the last time they'd kissed.  She 
didn't want to throw herself at him.  She was already embarrassed enough 
about the whole situation.  But Krycek didn't push her away.  He may have 
been pushing her onto the couch, but his whole body was following.  And 
he wasn't teasing her about how ridiculous she was being like Mulder would
have.  Krycek was probably as astounded by all of this as she was.  Her
feelings were real.  She was sure of it.  And she was pretty damn sure 
Krycek's feelings were too.

					#####

	Mulder spent the first ten minutes in his car, trying to get a grip on 
himself.  He'd known that she'd defend Krycek.  He'd told himself that he 
had to be prepared for it.  But nothing could prepare him for watching his 
partner taking the side of the man who'd killed his father.  He knew that 
she wasn't doing it to hurt him, but it didn't really matter since he was still 
hurt.  He wasn't so sure anymore that it had been a good idea to storm out 
of her apartment, letting her think he was too mad to talk to her.  He was 
supposed to show her that he was on her side.  He shouldn't have argued
with her.  But he hated seeing her concern for Krycek.  He'd become 
completely convinced that something was going on between Krycek and 
Scully.  She'd jumped to his defense too quickly.  And the guilt was 
plastered across her face.  He'd thought of calling her on it, maybe even 
declaring he *knew* about it, but he didn't have the nerve.  And when the 
realization hit him that she'd probably slept with Krycek, he'd been too 
hurt to think anymore.  It wasn't a  personal attack.  He kept trying to 
convince himself of that.  He reminded himself of exactly how convoluted 
her thought process must have become when she was able to rationalize 
sleeping with the man who'd kidnapped her.  
	
	But he kept picturing Krycek with his arms around Scully and he 
took it personally.  He slammed both fists into the wheel and wanted to 
scream.  He loved her.  He'd loved her for years.  He knew he'd hurt her 
feelings from time to time, but she had to know he cared about her even 
if she didn't know he loved her.  He should be the one holding her.  But he 
didn't want to pressure her and he didn't want to drive her away so he 
didn't tell her.  Or show her.  Or let himself admit it.  And a hell of a
lot of good it had done him.  He'd still managed to drive her into
someone else's arms.

	He'd really thought that he'd made some progress towards telling 
her.  He'd continued to hold her hand that morning after she'd woken him 
up long enough for her to know it wasn't by mistake.  And he'd kissed her.  
If she didn't know, she wasn't nearly as intelligent as he'd always thought 
she was.  He decided that it didn't matter how many times he'd come so 
close to telling her.  He just had to do it.  Then she would know.  There 
wouldn't be any questions about his feelings.  

	He circled the block a few times, trying to think of the perfect way 
to tell her.  There had to be perfect words to use.  And he had to think of 
them before he walked in there because he'd be too scared to think straight 
once he was looking at her.  But it would be worth it.  To finally get it out 
in the open.  To finally know she understood why he was so protective.  To 
finally, maybe, be able to hold her without suddenly remembering he didn't 
have a right to.

	He parked the car back in the spot he'd just vacated and went back 
in the building, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down the 
whole way back to her door.  He reached for the knob, pleased when he 
discovered it was still unlocked.  There was a chance she wouldn't let him 
in if she knew who it was considering the fight they'd just had.

					#####

	He continued to kiss her, eventually moving his lips to her throat, 
positive that at any moment she was going to come back to her senses and 
kill him.  On the off chance that she didn't, though, he was going to take 
what she offered.  He loved her.  And he was going to kiss her until she 
told him to stop.

	And for some strange reason, she didn't.  But a decidedly masculine 
voice did.

Part 24

	He absolutely could not believe what he was seeing.  Scully was not 
on her couch.  Krycek was not practically on top of her.  She was not 
kissing him.  Krycek's face was not buried in her neck.  She did not have 
her arms wrapped around him.  She was not enjoying it.  None of it was 
really happening.  He'd just gone completely out of his mind.  But the 
thought that he was hallucinating didn't stop him from slamming the door 
behind him.  And somehow, even though he felt like the wind had been 
knocked out of him, he found the strength to speak.

	"Get the hell away from her."  He didn't bother trying to keep his 
voice down.  He wanted to walk over to them and wring Krycek's neck. And
Scully's too, for that matter.  No wonder she'd wanted him to leave. She
wanted to be alone with her boyfriend. 

	He took a step forward, knowing either himself or Krycek was going
to leave that apartment dead.  But the look on Scully's face stopped him
dead in his tracks.  She was afraid of him.  It was understandable.  He 
knew the pure hatred was reflected on his face.  But it wasn't that she was 
afraid of him hurting her.  She was afraid he was going to hurt Krycek.  She 
looked like she was about to cry.  He shifted his gaze from her face to her 
hand, which was clutching Krycek's shirt for dear life.  It looked like she 
wanted him to protect her.  Maybe she was afraid Mulder was going to hurt 
her.  The idea that she was honestly afraid of him struck him so hard that 
he almost turned and ran out of the room.  He stopped staring at her, 
realizing it wasn't helping, and turned his eyes to Krycek.  Not that he had 
to move his glance more than a fraction of an inch since they were sitting 
so close to each other.  At least Krycek had the decency to let him see what 
he wanted to see.  Fear.  Krycek was afraid of him.  For good reason.  But 
Mulder didn't move.  He'd hurt one of them, possibly both.  He was coming 
in to tell her he loved her and he found her with him like that.  He couldn't 
even think about it anymore, even though he was standing there looking at it.

	The initial anger hadn't subsided, but somehow, the pain managed 
to peek through.  It felt like she'd just ripped his heart out.  It probably 
would have been better if she had, at least then he wouldn't still have to 
be alive.  He tried to think clearly, but there were too many emotions 
warring in his head.  He was sure of one thing though.  He wasn't leaving.  
Krycek was going to have to give first.

	If he had to, he'd sit there and watch them.  But he wasn't leaving.  
He could wait them out.  Or he'd kill them.  It would all depend on his 
mood if and when he decided to do anything. 

					#####

	He'd known it was too good to be true.  He was lucky enough to be
with her.  Lucky enough that she was allowing him to kiss her.  So 
naturally, Mulder had to show up.  The minute he'd heard Mulder's voice,
he'd pulled away from her, but only enough that he was kneeling in the
same place he'd been before he'd kissed her.

	Seeing the look on Mulder face, he was ready to run for his life.  
But Scully was still holding onto his shirt.  He couldn't tell if it was 
because she'd forgotten to let go or if she was terrified of Mulder.  Even 
if she wasn't afraid of Mulder, he was afraid of Mulder for her.  Mulder's 
expression had an unmistakably homicidal look about it.  And Krycek wasn't
going to leave her to face Mulder alone.  He'd gotten her into this mess,
he'd been the one who started the whole damn thing and he was going to
protect her.  

	He remained frozen, knowing he didn't have a chance against 
Mulder, except maybe outrunning him.  He wasn't armed.  Scully's gun was
still back at his apartment.  And the adrenaline rush Mulder was 
experiencing would make him much stronger than he ever had been before.
And if he didn't stand a chance against Mulder, Scully stood less of one.
Krycek's eyes never left Mulder's face.  He needed to have some warning if
Mulder decided to come after him.  While his eyes stayed trained on
Mulder, Krycek slowly moved his hand over Scully's, trying to gently work
his shirt free.  He could feel her shaking, but she let him move her hand.
He moved it away from him to rest on the edge of the couch, but he didn't
let go.  He almost laughed when he realized the irony of the situation.  A
month, probably an hour, earlier, none of them would have believed that
he'd be holding Scully's hand and the two of them would be terrified of
Mulder.  It usually worked the other way around.  

	Slowly, he stopped expecting Mulder to move.  Krycek had no doubt
that he was still irate, but some of the fury had given way to hurt.  One
thing Krycek had no trouble understanding.  He'd feel the same way if he'd
walked in on Scully kissing Mulder.  But Krycek had learned to anticipate
and deal with everything going wrong.  Mulder obviously was still naive
enough to expect things to work out.  

	Krycek was prepared to sit there forever and stare Mulder down. 
But he felt Scully's grip on his hand release and pull back.  He turned to 
look at her, fearing that she was going to throw him out.  It was one thing 
if he had to run out of there in fear of death, but it was an entirely 
different matter if she told him to leave.  If she did, he'd obey her 
request.  He wouldn't threaten or cry or get hysterical.  He'd just walk 
out the door.  And in front of the next car he saw coming down the street.

	He watched her sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the couch 
very slowly, completely blocking Mulder from his view.  Not that he 
wouldn't rather be looking at her legs.  But after she sat up, he stopped 
watching.  He'd leave if she wanted him to, but he wouldn't be happy about
it.  And he wouldn't be able to look her in the eye as she told him to get
lost because he knew he'd just end up crying.  And he really didn't want 
to cry in front of the two of them.  He glanced down at the carpet and 
dropped his hands into his lap.  When had he begun to hope for anything 
more than what he already had?  There had been a time when he was happy 
enough just to be alive.  He'd been willing to fight to stay alive then.
But now he realized there was something more than just living and he'd just 
been given a taste of it before it had been taken away.  Much more cruel 
than if he'd just never known about it.  He wished he'd never kidnapped 
her, never started to like her, never fallen in love with her.  Loving her 
was just too dangerous.  But at least now he understood why Mulder would 
go to the ends of the earth to keep her safe.  He saw her slide off the couch 
and sit down next to him.  Then he closed his eyes and waited for her to 
break his heart.

					#####

	She'd barely convinced herself she wasn't just dreaming that 
Krycek was there when Mulder had burst in.  No, she definitely wasn't 
dreaming.  She was having a nightmare.  A terrible horrible appalling 
nightmare that she'd eventually wake up from and spend several minutes 
shaking from and then never be able to forget as long as she lived.  But 
the situation didn't seem in the least bit dream-like other than it being
the absolute worst thing she could have ever imagined.  

	Mulder was just standing there with exactly the expression she 
expected him to have if he ever found out his sister was dead.  He was too
still.  And the fact that he hadn't yet killed her and Krycek didn't mesh
well with the palpable animosity in his eyes.  He was just standing there,
staring at them, seeming as if someone had put him in suspended animation.
She could see him breathing, way too fast, and she was about to tell him
to sit down because he was hyperventilating.  But she couldn't say that.
She couldn't say anything even remotely sounding like she was concerned
about him cause she knew it would push him over the edge.  

	Besides, he'd just walked in on his best friend making out with the 
man who'd killed his father and kidnapped her for the sole reason of 
tormenting him.  He could hyperventilate if he wanted.  She couldn't blame
him.   And if it kept him from killing Krycek, she'd encourage it. She'd
been busy concentrating on Mulder when she felt Krycek's hand close over
hers.  She kept her eyes on Mulder, afraid that he would see Krycek
reaching for her hand.  It wouldn't go over well.  Not well at all.  And
then Krycek had simply moved her hand away from his shirt, where she
hadn't realized she'd left it.  She'd been too surprised at Mulder's 
sudden entrance to remember to disconnect herself from Krycek.  She was
thankful that he continued holding her hand, though.  She couldn't see his
face, not while she was looking at Mulder, and she had no idea what Krycek
was thinking.  She thought maybe he'd changed his mind and would go
running as soon as he got the chance.  

	Too many minutes went past.  The room had gotten impossibly hot
and she was sure everyone else's heart was racing as fast as hers.  She
could see that Mulder was putting up an admirable fight against ripping
Krycek and herself limb from limb and while he was succeeding for the most
part, she didn't know how long his calm would last.  And Krycek, well,
something would have to be said to him.  He was considerably calmer, but
much more aggressive than Mulder and therefore just as likely to fly off
the handle and kill someone.  She was the only one in the room who ever
managed to stay calm and she was close to hysterical.  Silent, but still
hysterical.

	She sat up and moved to sit on the floor in front of Krycek.  Maybe 
it would help if she could stop them from trying to stare each other down.  
She saw the hurt in Krycek's eyes for a moment before he looked at the 
floor.  And then he slid back into the mask she'd forgotten he usually 
wore.  The cold, emotionless side of him that she hadn't seen since the 
first few days he'd had her.  She'd forgotten how frightening he could 
look.  She reminded herself of how gentle he'd been with her, how he 
hadn't pressured her, and she knew it was just because he was afraid of 
getting hurt.  She didn't want to hurt him.  But she knew she would end up
hurting one of them, probably both.  She moved slowly, to avoid startling
either of them.  She placed her hand under Krycek's chin and pulled his
face up until he was looking at her.  He had no idea what she was doing,
she could tell because the moment she touched him, the mask dropped and
she saw how vulnerable he was once again.  

	Not caring that Mulder was standing there watching, not caring 
that it would just confuse all of them a little bit more, she leaned forward 
and kissed him.  It wasn't an even slightly hesitant kiss.  She was trying to 
get a point across to him.  She did care about him and she wanted him to 
know it.  She didn't want him to ever doubt that.  But she was the one who  
would have to end this.  She was the only one who didn't want either of 
the other two dead.  She loved them both and she could feel both of them 
waiting for her to make the choice.  An impossible choice.  But she knew 
them both and she knew they really would fight to the death in a ridiculous 
reenactment of some ancient ritual over her  rather than concede a mutual 
defeat.  Or a mutual victory.  She seriously doubted she was worth the 
trouble.

Part 25

					#####

	Watching her kiss Krycek about killed him.  Hadn't she done enough
already by smashing his heart into a thousand pieces?  He was about to
change his mind about waiting for Krycek to leave.  Mulder hadn't even
imagined Scully would have the nerve to do this to him.  He heard Scully's
voice, quietly saying something to Krycek.  He knew it would probably make
him even sicker, but he wanted to know what she was saying.  

	But then he watched Krycek stand up, and move away from the couch.
Mulder had never had the pleasure of seeing Krycek so unsure of himself.
It was a hollow victory at best.  Mulder just stared as Krycek looked back
at Scully, concern plastered all over his obnoxious face. Mulder had
regained enough control to know Scully was not in any danger from
himself.  But Krycek, obviously didn't realize it. 

	"I'm not sure this is a good idea."  

	What the hell did that mean?   Mulder wanted someone to give him 
the Cliff's notes cause he'd missed something.  He looked back at Scully,
who was still not looking back at him.  He was happy to know she didn't want to 
meet his eyes.  She ought to be ashamed of this, Stockholm Syndrome or  
not.  Mulder resorted to leaning on the table to help keep himself standing.  
He'd begun to feel incredibly weak and he'd be in a lot of trouble if 
Krycek came after him right then.

	He watched Krycek approach him, absolute hatred evident on his 
face.  Mulder took a deep breath, relatively certain that Krycek was about 
to kill him.  But Krycek merely walked by, brushing past Mulder's shoulder
in a display of fearlessness.  Mulder turned to watch him go, wondering
why he didn't pull out his gun and just shoot the bastard in the back.
But he knew why.  Scully didn't want him to.

	Krycek turned as he reached the door, taking one more look at 
Scully who was still facing the opposite wall, and then fixing his gaze on 
Mulder.  His voice had a distinct hiss to it, which Mulder thought was 
particularly fitting for a little snake.  "If you hurt her, I will kill you."  
Then he walked out the door, leaving Mulder to face Scully.

	Mulder had become certain that Scully had invited Krycek to come 
back later, after Mulder left.  If that was the case, Mulder wasn't going 
anywhere.  Ever.  He was shaking as he walked towards the couch.  Maybe he
should follow Krycek and leave her alone.  She'd probably rather be alone
than with him.  

	Immediately after he sat down on the couch, she got up off the floor 
and sat down next to him.  Next to him with two feet in between them.  He 
still considered it a vast improvement over what he'd expected.  Maybe she 
wasn't so scared of him anymore.  He looked over at her, the hatred and 
anger having vanished along with Krycek, and wanted to understand.  All 
the reading in the world hadn't prepared him for this.  And as much as he 
wanted her to be ashamed of what she'd done, he still hated the sight of 
her sitting there, shoulders slumped, trying to fight the tears that were 
streaming down her face.  He'd spent too many years and too much energy on
loving her to hate her.  Even now.

	He slid across the couch, knowing she would probably rather die 
than have him comfort her, but needing to try anyway.  Krycek had done 
this to her.  To both of them.  This wasn't something she'd chosen.  He 
needed to remember that.  He had to let her know that he wasn't mad at 
her.  He had been, but he wasn't anymore.  The last thing he wanted was 
for her to be afraid of him.  Amazingly, she let him put his arms around her.  
He'd been sure she'd pull back and be upset that he'd even thought of such 
a thing.  But she turned in towards him and pressed her face into his shirt.  
He felt her shoulders begin to shake as the tears came faster.  He felt like 
crying himself.  He'd wanted her to be ashamed, but now that she was, he 
was sorry.  He didn't want her to be hurt.  He hated himself for thinking it.  
He ran his hand up and down her back, trying to convey without words how 
sorry he was.  He felt her press herself closer to him, even though there 
wasn't any closer she could get.  He pulled her legs up over his own, pulled 
her into his lap and just held her, waiting for the sobs to subside.

					#####

	She hated herself.  She absolutely hated herself.  She'd managed to 
convince Krycek to leave, telling him he could come back later, but it 
didn't make anything any easier.  Mulder still wanted to kill her, she was 
sure.  She remained on the floor, desperately wanting to sink through it. 
She heard Mulder walking towards her.  He seemed calmer, but she couldn't 
look at him to find out for certain.  She didn't deserve to know if he was 
about to shoot her.  She heard him sit down and somehow, through the guilt
that seemed to permeate her soul, she believed he wanted her to join him.

	The minute she sat next to him and he once again entered her line 
of sight, she couldn't stop the tears.  He was hurting.  He was in pain.  
And she'd done it to him.  She'd hurt him.  She'd ruined everything.  And 
she had a bad feeling that Krycek wasn't going to take her up on her 
invitation.  So she'd managed to hurt everyone a little more and still not 
get anywhere.  If she didn't feel so damn guilty, she would have thought 
herself amazing.  Everything she touched experienced gut-wrenching misery.
The amazing pain inducing Scully.  She should be a carnival act.

	Then his arms went around her.  He was going to forgive her.  She 
couldn't believe it.  And even while she was denying it was possible, he 
held her and let her cry into his shirt.  She could never voice how incredibly 
sorry she was.  There really were no words to describe it.  She just sat there 
in his arms and cried, letting him pull her into his lap.  He was the amazing 
one.  Maybe he could have the act right next to hers- the amazing forgiving 
Mulder.  

	She stayed there, in his arms for quite a while.  She couldn't really 
tell how much time had gone past.  But it didn't matter to her, not as long 
as he was still there.  She stayed there long after she'd actually run out of 
tears.  He continued to hold her, his light caress on her back keeping her 
awake.  She was waiting for something to happen.  Whatever it was, it was 
up to him.  She wanted to apologize, but it would be futile.  She'd never be 
able to take it back and she really didn't think she had the strength to speak. 
And maybe he already knew anyway.  She felt him start to pull away and she
didn't want to let him.  As long as he was there, holding her, she forgot 
her feelings for Krycek.  She forgot that she ever cared about anyone but 
Mulder.  And that was exactly what she needed to feel.

	He didn't pull back very far.  In fact, his arms were still fastened 
tightly around her waist.  She looked up, not sure what she was supposed to 
do.  She was sorry she did, though, because the look on his face made her 
want to cry all over again.  She could tell he'd been crying himself.  He just
stared at her, keeping his eyes locked with hers.  She thought she was 
supposed to say something and she opened her mouth to try and figure out 
what it was.  He silenced her by placing one finger over her lips before
she began to speak.  She closed her mouth again and he moved his arm back 
around her.  Now she was completely confused.  He wasn't speaking and he
apparently didn't want her to speak and yet, he was staring at her with an
unreadable expression on his face.

	She averted her eyes, assuming that she was missing some 
conspicuous clue, embarrassed that she hadn't gotten it already.  And then 
she felt him lean towards her and kiss her cheek.  His hand ran up into her 
hair and she felt him press his cheek against hers.  

	His whisper was soft and his voice raw with emotion.  "Please 
don't leave me."  He pulled back once again, placing his hands on either 
side of her face, and staring at her for a long moment.  "You won't leave 
me, will you?"  He waited for her to shake her head before he leaned in to 
kiss her lips.

Part 26

					#####

	He didn't really think leaving her alone with Mulder was the best 
of ideas, but she'd asked him to go.  She'd told him to come back later, 
after Mulder had left, and while he knew her invitation was sincere, he 
knew he wasn't going to take her up on it.  He didn't belong there with 
her, no matter how much she seemed to want him there.  He'd never come
between them. He wasn't going to stay where he wasn't wanted.  And when he
brushed past Mulder's shoulder in as threatening a display as possible
when he was on the verge of tears, he noticed the anger had left Mulder's
face.  All that was left there was shock and hurt.  Krycek knew he could
trust Mulder not to hurt her.  But he couldn't resist the threat that
escaped his lips.  And he had every intention of making sure Mulder didn't
harm her.  Ever.

	By the time he reached the sidewalk outside her building, he 
remembered he'd gotten there in a taxi.  And he wasn't sure he had the 
nerve to go back in and ask to use her phone.  He looked around, not quite 
familiar with the area, and decided to turn left and walk.  His mind drifted 
back into the small apartment he'd just left.  He'd never gotten so attached 
to anything in his life and he hated the idea that he had now.  It wasn't her 
fault, so he couldn't blame her.  It wasn't his fault either.  He'd kidnapped 
her, a perfectly despicable act, and he hadn't gone out of his way to like
her.  She'd just sort of grown on him.  And now he liked her.  Way too
much.  There was nothing he could do about it, though, so there really
wasn't any point in dwelling on it.

	He shoved his hands further down into his pockets and tried to 
remember where he'd left his jacket.  He couldn't remember if he'd worn 
it to the hospital or if he'd had it in Scully's apartment.  At any rate,
it was chilly and he had a long walk ahead of him.  He ducked into a small
diner and sunk down in a corner booth.  In all his life, he'd never felt
so out of place.  It wasn't the diner.  It was his complete lack of 
direction.  He was used to having a plan, a goal, a job, something to work
for.  He'd kidnapped Scully in the first place merely for revenge.  And
that had backfired rather painfully in his face.  Maybe it was time to
change professions.  Killer for hire wasn't cutting it anymore.

	The help wanted sign in the window caught his eye.  He took a 
second look around the place and knew it wasn't very promising.  The 
unbidden thought that he could keep an eye on Scully from here hit him and
he suddenly found himself asking to talk to the owner.  In a tiny, hole in
the wall diner that served food on dirty plates a few blocks from her 
apartment, he could watch out for her.  He could probably find a place in 
the area and then he'd have no reason to be far away from her.  And he was
sure that Scully didn't eat there regularly.  So long as Mulder didn't 
find him, and Krycek was confident that wouldn't happen, he'd be fine. And
Scully would be fine too.  A ridiculous smile appeared on his face as he
listened to the owner describe his various duties.  Now he had a plan. He
could relax.

					#####

	Mulder wasn't sure where exactly he'd found the courage to kiss her 
right then, especially after he'd walk on her and Krycek doing, well, he 
didn't want to think about that.  What was more unbelievable to him was 
that she kissed him back.  He wasn't convinced that it was the most 
opportune time to tell her that he loved her, but he wasn't convinced that 
such a time existed.  Still, he thought maybe he should wait.  She was 
confused.  Very very confused.  He didn't want to add to the current 
emotional chaos she was experiencing.  He only needed to keep her away 
from Krycek.  If he managed to do that, most of this would resolve itself.  
And what didn't clear up on its own could be dealt with.  He could get her 
to talk to him.  Or maybe he could get her to talk to someone else.  And 
once that was done, their lives would return to normal, at least, normal for 
them, and then he could contemplate screwing everything up again.

	He had broken the kiss, fearing that it wasn't him she wanted to be 
kissing, but he was in no hurry to move.  She leaned her head back against 
his shoulder and buried her face halfway between his shirt collar and his 
neck.  Her hand, which had been resting on his chest, reached around his 
waist.  He heard her mumble something that sound vaguely like an assurance 
that she'd never leave him.  He hugged her tightly for a moment and then let 
his arms embrace her loosely.  This was fine with him.  He could spend the 
rest of his life in the same position and never complain.

	He knew in the back of his mind that they couldn't stay there forever 
which made him slightly more prepared for the inevitable moment when she 
pulled away.  He let her slide out of his arms and stand up.  As much as he 
wanted to hold onto her and protect her from the world for the rest of time, 
he couldn't.  And even if he could, she'd hate him for it.  It wasn't worth 
making her mad just to continue to fail miserably at protecting her.  

	He looked up at her, not sure what she wanted him to do.  She only 
met his eyes for a second.  He knew she was uncomfortable from a 
combination of the unusual events that had landed them in this situation.  
He looked away from her, for the first time that day actually knowing exactly 
what she wanted him to do.  Once he knew she wouldn't catch him, his eyes 
returned to her and followed her as she moved.  She moved like she didn't 
know what to do.  It was probably precisely the problem she was having. 
After having spent so much time following someone's orders, he knew it 
would take time for her to begin to once again think for herself.


	She finally stopped moving when she reached the window.  He 
continued to stare, barely even aware of it.  She was facing away from him, 
but she turned her head to the side so that he could hear her clearly, even 
though her voice was soft.  She rebuked him gently, making him keenly 
aware that she had noticed him watching her, but he gathered  from the
tone of her voice and her delicate smile that she wanted him to know she was 
aware of his staring rather than that she wanted him to stop.  He ducked his 
head sheepishly, feeling guilty for doing something that he knew she didn't 
want him to do.  But when he looked up, she had turned to look at him and 
he knew she didn't mind.  

	He got up and joined her, standing at her side and gazing at nothing 
in particular, just happy that he was with her.  She drew in a breath and he 
knew she was going to offer some sort of explanation, an explanation that 
he understood she thought he still wanted.  Once again, he stopped her before 
she could start.  She glanced at him, the question of what he wanted her to do 
still on her lips.  He shook his head, trying to tell her that he didn't
need her to justify her actions, but not wanting to break the silence.  
She eyed him for a few moments and then stared back out the window.

	They stayed there for quite a while, more to enjoy the company than 
for the view.  Gradually, he began to understand.  He needed to accept that 
there was nothing he could do other than be there.  She was lost.  And she 
would have to find her own way back.  But he would be there every step of
the way.

	He smiled at her and reached for her hand.  After a moment, she 
smiled back and stepped forward to hold him.  And as he held her in his arms 
he realized she'd already made the first few steps home.