TITLE: Feverish
AUTHOR: KG
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, please let me know.
DISCLAIMER: Not mind. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
SPOILER WARNING: Terma (barely)
RATING: R for bad language and sexual situations.
CONTENT WARNING: Krycek/Scully ... That alone may be enough to
offend some people. :-)
CLASSIFICATION: VA
SUMMARY: Krycek seems about to fulfill a long-time fantasy, but
will the dream turn into a nightmare???
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to Cindy L., my beta reader -- I promise
to spell check next time. :)
Feverish
by KG
I navigate the familiar streets of Georgetown. Its cool and quiet on
this dark November night. The only sounds I hear are barking dogs
and the occasional passing car. I listen carefully, because I always
do, and if I hear anything or the headlights of one single car comes
within 50 feet of me I'll disappear so fast and so silent it'll be
like I was never here.
My boots, my jeans and the soft leather of my jacket are black, and
I feel like I'm invisible here; like I barely exist. Just a shadow
moving down the darkened streets of this sleepy residential section
of the city. Don't look -- there's nothing here.
Its peaceful here tonight. And suddenly I feel like a fraud -- I don't
belong anywhere peaceful. It feels safe and I'm definitely not safe.
I'm a killer and a traitor, and if you come for me you better get
it right the first time because there will be no second chances.
But if I'm honest with myself, and I usually am, I'd have to say that,
at the moment, my situation is not good. That's an understatement of
world-class proportions. I'm nearly out of money. Most of the people
I know and probably quite a few that I don't would gladly put a bullet
in my brain, and the prospects of changing either of those situations
seems bleak.
I survey the buildings surrounding me. I'm here.
Its risky, but I don't feel I have a lot too lose at this point in
my life. I made my choices. Amazingly stupid choices; unbelievably
naive choices, but mine all the same. And now I'll suffer the
consequences. Of course I had no fucking idea that it would turn
out like this.
I let myself in through the back entrance and silently glide down the
hallway to a door I recognize, pausing for a moment to listen for
any sound coming from inside. Nothing. She could be asleep, although
its early yet for that, but I hope she's not home. I've played out
this scenario in my mind many times, sometimes she's in her bed,
sometimes in the shower, but I like it best when she's not home. I
like it best when she comes home and I'm there, ready for her.
I slip a small black vinyl case containing my tools from my coat
pocket and set to work on the lock. Its pitifully easy. You'd think
that someone who's seen the things she's seen and been through the
things she's been through would pay a little more attention to home
security. Although maybe those experiences have taught her that if
they want to get in they'll get in, which I guess is the truth
after all.
I slip inside and do a quick reconnaissance. The living room is as
I remember it; there's a big armoire that casts a nice shadow to hide
behind near the door. I move like a ghost through her kitchen, her
bathroom and her bedroom. Everything is so clean and neat -- like
her. No dirty dishes in the sink, no stack of bills on the coffee
table like in most homes. Its hard for me to believe that a real
person actually lives here. Its almost too perfect.
In fact its completely perfect...She's not home. I smile.
I settle into my familiar hiding place. She doesn't make me wait long.
In fact I barely have time to get comfortable before I hear the quiet
click of a key inserted into the lock.
The door swings open and there she is, her delicate profile highlighted
by the bright hall lights. She takes a few steps into the room,
kicks off her impractical heels, casually tosses her briefcase and
overcoat onto a chair, reaches for the light on the low table next
to the sofa...
I've almost waited too long, watching her, but I'm across the room
in an instant. My right hand snakes around her waist while my left
covers her mouth to stifle any sound she might make.
She jams her left elbow into my gut. Bitch, I think, as the breath
is forced out of my lungs. It hurts but not enough to make me let
go. She stomps on my foot with her heel, but her bare foot makes no
impression on my steel-toed boot. I tighten my grip and lift her
almost off the ground to discourage any further resistance. She
probably can't breathe very well like this, but I really don't give
a shit.
"Don't fight me," I whisper into her right ear, not really expecting
her to comply.
A gasp of recognition and she redoubles her effort to get free. All
in vain.
She smells clean and crisp like the cool autumn air outside,
and suddenly I can't wait any longer; my nose and mouth are buried
deep in her shoulder length red hair breathing in her scent.
My mouth makes its way to the pulse of her warm neck and I'm kissing
and tasting that soft skin, gradually working my way down her neck
towards her pale smooth shoulder. The delicate chain of a necklace
distracts me from my journey. I use my tongue to trace its path,
scratching her sensitive skin with my unshaven face. Without warning
I take the necklace between my teeth and jerk it free of her neck,
letting the chain and its tiny charm drop to the floor.
A small sound escapes her mouth, and is muffled in the confines of my
hand. It sounds like she's moaning, probably in terror rather than
pleasure, but my body reacts regardless. I'm shockingly hard.
I crush her to me, impossibly close. My thighs, hips and chest all
press against her. I thrust my erection against the small of her back
and her hips begin to press and rub, unbelievably and deliberately,
against me.
"Oh fuck yes," I moan, my voice deep with desire and surprise, aware
of nothing now but her body writhing against mine. Of all the countless
scenarios I've imagined, nothing has been quite as good as this -- the
reality of a very willing, very hot Dana Scully.
Alex, you are one lucky son of a bitch, I can't help but think to
myself at exactly the same moment as I hear the door crash open
behind me.
"Get away from her you rat bastard," Mulder screams, his voice hoarse
with disgust.
I whirl around, dragging Dana with me, to find the door flung open
and Mulder silhouetted in the doorway by the harsh hallway lights.
His gun is pointed at my face and I notice that his finger is
trembling on the trigger.
"No," Dana cries out before I even realize that Mulder has already
fired, and that my left hand has dropped away from Dana's mouth and
a fiery agony has lodged itself in my upper arm burning hotter and
deeper into my body with every breath...
...Alex Krycek collapsed, as if in slow motion, towards the distant
floor of Dana Scully's apartment...
...And landed in the cold Tunguska forest.
"He's awake," a man shouted in Russian.
A second man, just a boy really, but with the confidence of a man, strode
over to where the newcomer lay near the fire.
"The fever's broken," the boy declared after briefly touching his palm
to Krycek's forehead. "He'll be fine."
Krycek blinked his eyes to clear the lingering images of his dream and
woke up to his worst nightmare.