Cracking Up

by nightshade444

Krycek's initial attempt at convincing Scully to join him has failed, so he's left her behind to decode the files on his own. He's not going to shake her that easily, though. There's a good amount of UST flying back and forth, as well as a fair amount of angst. Sequel. Read "Undivided Attention" first if you want to understand the references in this one.

3. Chapter 3

"Cracking Up"

Part 3

October 28, 7:57pm

Washington, DC

I've just gotten myself arranged properly-mug of hot tea, my trusty legal pad, a fresh package of post it notes, my laptop-in my favorite warm, flannel pjs, sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the couch, the papers of Krycek's package spread out over the clean coffee table in neat little stacks that I'm eager to dive into, when the phone rings. I want to ignore it. It's way over there on the table under the window and I don't want to get up and I don't want to get distracted from the task at hand. But I'm Dana Scully. I don't ignore ringing phones. It could be my mom. It damn well better be my mom.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Agent Scully. I take it you received my package."

I'm not exactly sure why the sound of his voice should startle me, but it does. It's not cold or menacing at all, but I'm suddenly on high alert and my pulse quickens. My eyes dart over to my gun before returning to the papers on the coffee table. I'm pleased that he's sharing information, maybe trying to make amends for the utter mess he made out of my weekend (and my psyche) a couple weeks back, but he must know it's not nearly enough to convince me to forgive him. Or trust him.

"I was just getting ready to dissect it." I hope my voice is reflecting the edge, the vague threat I try to convey in both my tone and choice of words.

The soft, barely-audible chuckle I hear on the line confirms that it didn't.

"That's an accurate way to describe the process I've been going through. It's also why I've called. I was hoping you could help me interpret something. "

I hesitate, a bit perturbed by his presumptuousness, but I'm curious. Of course I am. "What is it?"

"It's medical and it's too sensitive, and too extensive, to do over the phone."

I close my eyes and sigh at the implication.

"I'm not asking for anything tonight, Agent Scully. I'll be in touch."

I'm about to raise my voice and practice some of the more colorful phrases I developed over the course of my navy brat youth, but he cuts me off before I get started.

"By the way, you should have your apartment swept for bugs again. You probably don't want just anyone seeing you in those pajamas."

I lower the receiver and just stare at it for a moment after I hear the dial tone. The man has a truly uncanny ability to get my ire up.

I immediately dial a number I know by heart, stabbing at each button with enough force to make my finger ache, and let some of this anger out on a certain trio who clearly deserve some.

"Lone Gunman."

"It's Scully. Get your asses back over here. Pronto. You need to finish the job you started."

I slam the phone down, not waiting for an answer from Langly. Then I snatch up the now room temperature tea and take it into the bathroom to swallow a couple ibuprofen tablets. I can feel the headache starting to throb in my temples. Once again Krycek's shot my weekend plans to hell. Once again he's tried to convince me that it's for my own good. That's the part that sticks in my throat.

No time to think about it, though. I've got to get dressed and supervise more closely this time while the place gets turned upside down. Another delightful Friday night with the guys. God, I need some girlfriends.