From: RAnton1013 <ranton1013@aol.com>
Date: 22 Apr 1999 00:34:44 GMT
Subject: World Without End: Book One (1/12) by Rachel Anton *possible repost*

I tried posting this about a week ago and it doesn't seem to have gone through.
Apologies if you're seeing this for the second time.

Title: World Without End: Book One (1/12)

Author: Rachel Anton

E-Mail: RAnton1013@aol.com

Rating: NC-17

Keywords: Post-colonization, angst, Scully/Krycek

Summary: Where do you turn when everything you know is gone?

Disclaimer: Most of these characters aren't mine. 

Spoilers: I suppose the myth-arc through One Son

Acknowledgments: Huge thanks to Laura, Cynthia, Alanna,
Heather, and Naina. And thanks to everyone who responded to my
desperate plea for Russian translations, especially Anna and Dasha. 


xxxxxx


The days here are very long. I don't remember anything of what the
others call "life before" but I wonder if mine was always so dull. I
rise at dawn with the others. We eat breakfast together and then
scatter to our various duties. I am the Special Handmaid to the
Mistress of the house. With a title like that one would expect I
would actually have something to do. Mostly I keep her quarters
clean and listen to her talk. She talks a lot. I would talk back if I
had something to say. I find it difficult to form sentences most days
so I just listen. She talks a lot about her husband. I get the sense
that the Master is somehow very important to the "world outside."
I have no knowledge of this world either. I usually forget the things
she tells me by the time I fall asleep.

My duties are not difficult. The actions come to me without
thought or effort. Even the first day, I knew what to do
automatically. I still do. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like
to work in the field. Or to build. The men get to go outside and
build things. I think I might like to do that but I'm sure I wouldn't
know how. It's not what I was created to do. 

I seem to be the only one who wonders about other duties, about
life in the world outside. The others seem content. When we gather
again for dinner no one complains of boredom or restlessness. No
one complains of the emptiness. 

The days are long but the nights are worse. Bedtime is 9 p.m..
Bedtime has always been 9 p.m.. I wonder why I am never tired at
9 p.m.. I share sleeping quarters with three of the other women.
They get in bed at 9 p.m. and fall asleep without a word. I lay in my
bed, eyes open and body rigid for a very long time. I get the sense
that during life before I was rarely in bed before midnight. 

Sometimes during the long nights I try to remember. Usually after a
couple of hours I get a headache from it. I wonder if I knew such
headaches before. Once I got a flash, nothing more than an image
flitting through my consciousness. It was a very strange image; a
man and a small girl sitting on a floor. The man made a funny face
and the girl smiled. The image made me ache. Then it was gone. I
was left with a worse headache than ever and a feeling of loss so
profound I couldn't even fathom it. Why am I the only one who
feels? Am I the only one who tries to remember?

When I finally sleep I think I dream. I never remember the dreams.

Then the day begins again and the process is repeated. It has always
been this way. 

Today is different. Something is happening today. I am sitting in my
assigned chair beside Mistress's sofa where she lays, sprawled
across the red velvet cushions, still in her sleeping clothes even
though it is well past noon. She is talking of some kind of trouble
brewing for the Master on the outside. I hope that he is okay. I
don't know what would happen to us all if he couldn't take care of
us. 

"I'm very worried," she tells me. "There's been talk of war again.
Why can't everyone be as sweet as you, dear?"

I shrug and she pats my shoulder with her wrinkled hand. I wonder
what war is. 

A very loud sound makes us both jump. Her hand tightens on my
shoulder.

"Oh my God! I think that was a gunshot."

I wonder what a gunshot is. There is so much I don't know. I
wonder if I ever knew. A few more loud sounds that the mistress
seems convinced must be gunshots ring through the house. She is
locking and bolting the door to her quarters. She runs back to me,
looking very unhappy. Scared? Is that fear?

"We have to get out of here. Oh my God! We have to get out of
here!" 

She pulls open the curtains and looks out the large window. I think
she's planning on jumping. These gunshots must be very bad things
indeed. But for some reason the sound of them makes me smile.
Something is happening.

"God, they're outside too."

I stand up and peek through the window. There are several men
holding big, strange things. I wonder if the gunshots come from
these things. I wonder how they got through the gates. If they can
get in why can't I get out? I guess I never really tried.

Mistress is making strange noises and there is water coming from
her eyes. I guess this is crying. I've heard her mention it before I
think.

The loud noises get closer and then they are right outside the door.
Mistress seems extremely unhappy now. I want to tell her that it's
okay, the door is locked and the noises can't get through but I think
part of me wants them to come through. 

There are several pounding sounds from the outside and suddenly
the door is open. There are two men I've never seen. Men aren't
allowed in Mistress's quarters. I get up to tell them that but before I
can say anything one of those things they are holding makes a
gunshot and Mistress falls to the floor. Black fluid comes from her
chest. Is this how she bleeds? 

I kneel down beside her, an instinct to put myself in front of the
gunshot engulfing me. Mistress is dead. I must also die. 

The man who fired the gunshot comes to me and pulls me up by the
arm. 

"Did you make her die?" I ask him. He looks at me strangely. He
has green eyes.

"Scully? Jesus Christ,  is that you?"

I shrug. I don't know if I am a Scully. I've never heard that word
before. 

"Oh my God. Of course it is. The chip. I'd almost forgotten."

I shrug again. I don't know about this chip he speaks of but I am
happy he is here for some reason. Even though he made Mistress
die. Maybe he will have something more interesting for me to do. 

"Did you make the Master die too?" I ask him, suddenly very
excited.

"God, this is too fucking weird. I'm gonna get you out of here,
Scully." 

"Who is this woman?" the other man asks. He is a very large man.
They are both large but this one is larger than any of the other men
I've seen. Larger than the Master or any of the other workers. The
green eyed man shakes his head.

"Someone I used to know. Kind of. She was...she worked for the
fucking FBI if you can believe it."

Someone he used to know. Someone...someone from the time
before! Someone who remembers the time before! I didn't know
such people existed. 

"Come on Scully, I'm gonna get you out of here."

He takes my arm again and I follow him through the house. There
are many dead people in the rooms we pass through. There are also
many living people, all from the outside. They are taking things and
stuffing them into bags. 

There are more dead people on the lawn. Is this war?

The green-eyed man brings me to what I recognize as a car,
although I've never been in one. I see the Master leaving in one
through the window sometimes. Cars take him to the world
outside. We must be going to the world outside. 

We sit together in the backseat and the large man gets behind the
wheel. Another large man sits beside him. 

"Get us out of here fast," the one who knew me once tells them.
We start moving. Very fast. So fast I feel strange in my stomach
from it. It feels like I think the birds must feel. Flying. It feels like
flying. 

When we pass the gates I feel a jolt, almost like a headache but
sharper. It shoots through my head and my neck. The man next to
me turns to me. His face is covered with stubble. Not like the
workers. They shave every morning. 

He stares at me and I stare back. We don't speak for a very long
time. It's good to be with one who doesn't speak as much as the
Mistress. 

We drive into the night without words. Many hours pass and I
realize it is probably past 9 p.m.. The world outside is very empty. I
look out the windows of the car as we drive and there is nothing
but dirt. We pass places that look like they used to be something
but they are broken. Buildings that look like they've only been
partially built. Or maybe they were whole once and someone
knocked them down. There aren't any people. The world outside
seems even more boring than the Master's house. 

Eventually we reach an area where there is no real path. Only trees.
The big driving man brings us into the trees. It is very dark here but
he seems to know where he's going. 

"I don't think we were followed," he says.

"No, but the others...I don't feel entirely comfortable yet," the green
eyed one says. "Just get us back, Bryan. Hopefully everyone's been
as lucky as we have."

Bryan. That's what they call the big one. These people are called
strange things. 

"They call me twenty-four," I announce and everyone in the car
turns to me and frowns. Okay, so it's not much of a name. Better
than Scully, though. What the heck *is* a Scully anyway? 

"Jesus Christ," the one next to me grumbles. I guess he likes the
other name better. 

I shrug and decide silence was a much better policy. 

We drive through the trees for another long while and eventually
come to a clearing. There is a path and we take it down to a
building so large I can see it from very far away. It looks even
larger than the Master's house.

"Is this your house?" I ask the green eyed man who I suppose is my
new Master now. 

"You could say that, I guess." 

We pass through a gate and the driving man shows another man in
a booth there some kind of card. The booth man looks in the
backseat and smiles with recognition at Master. 

"Glad to see you back, sir," he says and waves us through. 

When we get closer to the big building I realize there are many
other buildings around it. It looks like a picture I saw once in one
of Mistress's old forbidden magazines. She kept a stack of them in a
locked box under her bed. Sometimes she showed me the pictures.
I couldn't read the words, though. She showed me a picture of a
place like this and said, "This is what they used to call a prison.
You used to need places like this." That place also had fences with
sharp tops and guards standing around it. Is this place a prison?

We drive into a big hidden place under the building where there are
a few other cars and get out. The two big men go in one direction
and the Master takes me by the arm again and leads me in another
direction. We take a set of stairs up and then we are walking
through a long hallway with many doors. Things are not as nice
here as they were at the other Master's house. The walls are green
and the carpet is orange. It's ugly. 

We go up another flight of stairs and around some corners, more
stairs, some locked doors that he has the key to and finally we
arrive at what I suppose are his quarters. This is strange. The
females never went into Master's quarters in the other house. 

My new Master's quarters are not very big. He has a small table that
I suppose is for eating, a little kitchen area and a couch. There are
some tables and lamps and some things that look like the magazines
but they are bigger and they have hard covers. Could these be
books? Mistress used to complain that we didn't have any books. 

"Sit down," he tells me and I do, on the chair next to the couch. I
open the one of the books on the table next to me and peer at the
words scrambled across the page. I wish I knew what the words
meant. 

He tosses his coat onto the couch and goes to the kitchen area. He
places his gunshot machine on the table and pours himself a glass of
water from the sink.

"Want a drink?" he asks me and I shrug. I don't know what I want.   
He sighs and comes back, sitting on the couch.

"Scully, do you know who I am?"

"You're my new master, from the world outside."

I think that this is a good answer but he doesn't seem pleased.
He rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his dark hair.

"They really fucked you up good, didn't they?"

"What does that mean?"

"It means you are not the woman I remember. Scully, look, you've
got a few choices here."

"What is choices?"

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and makes a groaning sound. 

"Scully, there's something in you, in your neck. It's making you...it's
making you not yourself. It's making you forget. It's letting them
get into your head and control everything you do, everything you
feel."

I don't understand what he is saying and yet it makes sense. I have
forgotten. I thought everyone had but this one remembers. I want
to be like this one. I don't want them to control me. Whoever they
are. 

"Can you take it out?" I ask him and he nods.

"I can take it out, Scully but...I have to tell you, if I do, something
bad might happen to you. You might get very sick. In fact you
probably will. You'll probably get cancer eventually and then, unless
we've found a cure by then, you'll die."

He looks very serious. I am not worried about death. I want to
remember. I want to remember this strange one who knows me
with the green eyes. I want to know who the man and the small girl
are. I want to be able to read that book. 

"Take it out, please."

"Scully, are you sure? It's gonna...it's gonna be very strange for
you. You're gonna remember a lot of shit at once and it's probably
not all gonna be good. I mean I envy you in some ways, not being
able to remember the way things were before."

"I want to remember. Please make me remember."

He smiles and I think for once I have made my new master happy. 

"C'mere," he says and moves over on the couch so I can sit next to
him. "Wait one sec."

He stands and leaves the room. When he comes back he is carrying
a bottle and some tissue paper. And a knife like we use to cut our
food. Although it looks a lot sharper. He sits beside me again.

"Turn around."

I turn so my back is facing him. He pulls my hair to the side and
over my shoulder. 

"Got so long," he mutters and I shrug. 

"This is gonna hurt, Scully. I'm sorry. I'm not a doctor like you. We
need a doctor. I hope you decide to stay. And Scully, I want you to
keep the chip. In case you ever change your mind and want it
back." With that I feel a sharp burning pain in my neck. It's horrible.
Worse than any pain I've ever felt. It seems to go on indefinitely as
he cuts and pulls. I bite my lip and try not to make a sound. "I'm so
sorry," he tells me again and then I feel cool liquid on the wound
and a bandage and then I am holding a small circular chip in my
hand. "So sorry," he says one last time. And then...and then I
remember.

xxxxxx

It had been going on for several nights now. Just like before. Like
the last time. Skyland Mountain. The pull, the numb, the feeling and
lack of feeling that she couldn't explain but remembered well. She'd
caught herself staring out the window with that same yearning,
almost a craving more times than she could count. Always at night.
They were calling to her. They wanted her back. She wanted to go
in the night time. 

When the craving came to her in the day she went to Mulder. He
would help her fight it. He would make it stop, keep her safe. She
would tell him. She would tell him finally.

She drove to his apartment quickly. So quickly that she barely
noticed that people were dying in the streets.

She knocked and then let herself in when there was no answer. On
the couch. He was sick. So sick. It was so hot. July, it was July and
the heat was on in the apartment and he was shivering and wrapped
in wool blankets. The strings holding her were snapping, thinning
down to nothing. 

"Scully...help," he pleaded. She wanted to ask the same but
couldn't. Holding him, trying to keep him warm, trying not to leave.
The pull was almost overwhelming but the need to care for him was
stronger still.

He shook in her arms and she thought maybe she should kiss him.
Was it too late for all of that?

"Mulder, you've got a fever. I'm going to see if you've got any
ibuprofen."

She stands and he whimpers, reaching out for her. She hopes she
doesn't jump out the window of the bathroom. Hands shaking,
pulling open the cabinet, dropping the bottle once, twice. She
jumped at the sound of the bottle hitting the floor a third time. 

"Don't go, don't go, don't go," she tells her reflection. 

Screaming from the other room and tears filling her eyes. 

"Don't go..."

She runs to him but it's too late. He lies on the couch, same as she
left him. Head resting on pillows, hands limp at his sides, but now
there is a gaping, bloody maw where his stomach once was. 

His face, twisted into a grimace of pain, a masque of death. She
touches that face one time and finally she knows she can go. 

xxxxxx

I don't think this was the best idea in the world. 

Okay, vast understatement. This was the worst idea I've ever had. I
knew it would be hard for her. I've seen this process before. A lot
of the people here are former slaves. It's always painful. Getting
back all your memories, all your feelings, total self awareness
delivered in one sweeping blow, it can't be easy. 

I didn't realize it would be quite this bad. I didn't expect her to sit
there staring blankly at the wall for almost two hours without
moving, without speaking. I don't know if my movement would
startle her and cause her to lash out at me like a frightened animal
but my ass is starting to hurt and I'd really like to just crawl into bed
and go to sleep. 

"Scully?"

She jerks a bit and turns to me. Her expression remains blank for
about ten seconds and then a little lightbulb seems to go off. Her
eyes narrow and her mouth gets very tight and angry looking.  

"You? You... What did you do to me? Oh God..." 

Her voice cracks and she pulls herself into the corner of the couch,
as far away from me as possible.

"Scully...I..."

"Oh God," she moans and buries her face in her hands. 

"What..."

"I just left him there. I just...I left. Oh God," she groans through her
hands, barely audible.

"What are you talking about?"

"I just left," she says again. And again. And again. She must be
remembering the abduction. She doesn't know how lucky she was
to have left. I've always envied the slaves in that. They got out
before things really went to hell. She seems to be pretty upset about
having left though. She's starting to rock back and forth and shake.

"Scully, I don't think you had a choice. A lot of people left. They
made you leave."

"I...I left him and he was...he was...oh God."

I guess he is Mulder. I've been wondering for some time what 
happened to him. I keep waiting for him to bust down the door and
tell me this little resistance I've got going is nice but ya know, he
could do it so much better. Sometimes it makes me smile to think
that day might come. Sometimes it actually gives me hope. Don't
ask me why. 

"He was what?" I ask. Again, I'm not quite sure why. 

"He was...he..." She bends over, clutching her stomach.

"Scully?"

"He was, it was just... blood ...he was...God..."

Damn that little shit. I should have known he'd do something lame
like drop dead before things even got started. Instead of feeling sad
or happy or vindicated, the apparant news of his demise just really
pisses me off. 

Scully's still bent over at her stomach, her hair hanging in stringy
chunks over her face, her whole body trembling. Christ almighty
Mulder. What a legacy you've dumped on my sofa. 

"How could I have left? What kind of...what did I...I can't...I, I
can't..."

"Scully, take a deep breath. Do you want a glass of water?" 

"I can't...I can't..." she keeps whispering. I have got no idea how to
deal with this. Should I leave her alone? What if she trashes my
room? I've seen people do some pretty weird stuff after getting
their chips removed. Should I just sit here and keep trying to talk to
her? Should I try to take her to a room of her own and leave her
there to destroy things at her own discretion? 

For some reason instinct gets the better of logic and I do something
very very stupid. I reach my hand out and touch her back. I can feel
how cold her skin is through the thin fabric of her potato sack dress
immediately. She must be in shock. For a moment she doesn't seem
to notice that I'm touching her and I leave my hand resting on her,
hoping she'll continue to not notice but that it will help in some
small way. No such luck.

Her head darts up suddenly and her eyes, red and watery, lost and
furious, take hold of my face. 

"Get your hand off of me right now," she growls through clenched
teeth. I do. Quickly.

"Scully..."

"What do you want? Why am I here? What did you do with
Mulder?"

How did I know I'd end up getting blamed for whatever the hell
happened to him?

"I didn't do anything with him."

"WHY AM I HERE?"

Oh boy. I don't even know where to start. I don't even know what
she actually means. And she just keeps getting more and more
angry. Why did I even try to talk to her in the first place?

"I just kind of...found you," I offer lamely. It's the truth but she's
not likely to believe me. 

"Yeah? Well guess what. Now that you've "found" me, you're
gonna help me find Mulder."

"Um..."

Is she talking about his body? Or him? The chances of the first are
slim and from what she said before, the chances of the second seem
non-existent. 

"Do you understand me?"

"Scully..."

"Dammit Krycek, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

I decide this is not the time to argue with her. 

"Yes, I understand."

I understand that this woman is in for a really awful letdown. I
understand that when she gets a grip on reality the only person
who's gonna be around to pick up her shattered pieces is me. And I
understand that this is the last thing she would ever want. 

xxxxxx

end chapter 1


TITLE: World Without End: Book One (2/12)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton
E-MAIL:RAnton1013@aol.com

xxxxxx

Once upon a time there was a girl. She lived in a house. One day,
the house fell down. 

xxxxxx

Mulder,

I'm writing this to you in hopes that one day, wherever you are, you
will receive it and that you will decide to join me here. I understand
that right now, you can't be with me. I've come to accept that over
these months because I know in my heart that you are doing
something very valuable, very important. Something that has
necessitated this separation. I'm not angry. 

Not at you. But at them, the people here, I am very angry. The lies
they've told me are unforgivable. I would leave here if I knew of
somewhere else to go. But the world is different now and I don't
think I know how to survive anymore. 

Sometimes I'm actually surprised to see the sun rising and setting
every day. How can it keep doing that? And the snow. It keeps
snowing just like it used to. 

I wonder if it snows where you are. 

I wonder if you're safe, if you're warm. We were so foolish, Mulder.
So unprepared. We didn't realize.

When I was a little girl my brother Charlie had an ant farm. He kept
it in a  glass case on his dresser. He used to watch those ants build
their cities, their lives, every day,  for hours on end. One day Bill
decided he didn't like Charlie anymore so he stole his ant farm. He
brought it outside and dumped all the ants on the ground. Then he
squashed some of them with his sneaker. Some of them he grabbed
and pulled the legs off of. Some he used his magnifying glass to
scorch with the sun's rays. A few managed to escape his tyranny
and, I suppose, build anthills in the back yard. I thought it was
gross and kind of mean to Charlie. But not to the ants.

When I was in junior high they told us we had to dissect a frog. We
all thought it was disgusting but nobody asked where they got the
frogs. We were learning.

The college I went to was built on what used to be a swamp. They
had to drain it and kill everything in it to build the dorms. We just
wanted a place to live.

In medical school we did experiments on rats. We were trying to
heal people.

We seem to need more and more justification the further up the
evolutionary ladder we go, the more torture we inflict, but it never
stops us. Who knew that there was something higher? Something
that would look at us and think, rats, frogs, ants? Something as
certain as we always are in a higher purpose, worth the sacrifice?
You did I suppose. Why was it so hard for me to believe it? It's not
really so odd. As a scientist myself, I should have seen it coming.

I remember now, Mulder. I remember when they came. They talked
to us. Not the way we talk to each other but the way we talk to our
pets. To dogs. We tell them sit, stay, roll over, but we don't tell
them why. We don't explain to them why we've decided to move to
Florida or the fact that the vet needs to give them a shot. Or if we
do, we certainly don't ask their opinions about it. They didn't ask
us. And they didn't tell us. And we probably wouldn't have
understood them if they had tried. After all this, Mulder, we still
don't know the truth. We still don't understand any more about
them than our dogs understand about us.  

I remember being a slave. Every night I relive the horror in my
dreams. I remember what it felt like to not remember. To have no
will, no strength, no anger. I don't remember what they made me do
though. Only what I didn't feel. 

I remember seeing you, what I thought was you, dying, dead,
bleeding. I know now that it was an illusion, that it was someone
else, but at the time, it was the most horrifying thing I'd ever
experienced. 

Thank God I understand now. I see that it was a lie all along, a
trick to get me to go to the abduction site, to leave you. Krycek, he
thinks that if he shows me pictures and documents that I'll simply
accept the lie and let go of you. He thinks he'll make me forget
again. 

I hate him.

I hate them all, Mulder. I hate everyone I see for being here with
me when you are so far away. 

But the people here have taken care of me, and I'm sure they would
do the same for you. They've given me warm clothing and a room
of my own. I live in a dorm, Mulder. In a tiny little dorm room. 
Every night I try to imagine you crawling into one of these
miniature twin beds, your monstrous feet dangling off the end. It
makes me smile sometimes.  I eat in a group dining hall. Every meal
I eat, a woman punches a hole in the white card I was given. Two
meals a day is all we're allotted. I purchase my necessities at a large
warehouse with another card. I got my period yesterday and was
somewhat dismayed to find that we're only permitted two tampons
per month. The rest of the time it's pads. I suppose I should be
grateful we've got those. 

I'm not entirely sure where they get all of their supplies. It seems as
though the situation is tight but not completely desperate. There is
a farm here where many of the people work everyday. A lot of the
food we eat is grown here. But it's winter now and they cannot rely
on self-sustenance for everything. They have connections.
Connections Alex Krycek was forging long ago while we spun our
wheels around in a dank basement office. Connections to the rebel
race. It's a tenuous alliance, as all of Krycek's alliances are, but it's
beneficial to both parties.

He was doing their work when he found me, fighting a war with the
colonist's agents on Earth. My "master" was one of them, a traitor
to his race, to his planet. A man who chose to be turned into a
mutant, to become one of them rather than fight. That's what
Krycek says anyway.

I can't help but wonder why it has to be this way. So few human
beings managed to survive the initial attack. Why must the lucky
ones remain only to finish the job of destroying our species, killing
each other for causes that have nothing to do with us, for creatures
who live in the sky, hovering above, watching us destroy each other
for them, a couple of mercenary armies.

I'm reminded of the wars fought for America so long ago. Of the
Spanish and the French and the English killing each other for land
that really didn't belong to any of them, of the natives choosing
sides, allying themselves with whichever power promised their tribe
more of a chance for survival, more of the supplies necessary for
daily life, more of what the tribe deemed most valuable. Krycek
seems to have chosen freedom for his tribe. He'll fight for the
faceless rebels, put his life on the line for their war so that he and
his people can live here relatively safely. 

I can't fault him for his choice. Without it, many of these people
would surely be dead. And I would still be a slave. 

I'm not sure how long this group has been here, how long they've
been allowed to exist. I don't know how they managed to escape
submitting to The Order in the first place and I don't know if there
are others like them. We're tucked away up here in this cold
wasteland, this frozen landscape that used to be Eastern Canada, far
away from the settlements. Perhaps they don't know where we are.
Or perhaps we're completely inconsequential. Perhaps we're like
those ants that managed to escape from my brother. He never
bothered to chase them. 

I wonder where Bill is. And Charlie. Mom...

I try not to think about them, Mulder, but sometimes I can't help it.
Sometimes they come to me in dreams, telling me that they're gone
now, that I need to carry on without them. I don't want to believe
them. I don't know what to do.

I think you might like it here with me, Mulder. I think it might be
the best place for us. We might be safe here. At least we'd be free. 

I miss you, Mulder. I'm so lonely here. I hope when you get this
you decide to come back to me. 

Yours always,
Scully

xxxxxx

I tuck the folded letter into the pocket of my bulky, white parka and
pull my woolen hat onto my head and mittens over my hands and
push open the heavy metal door with my shoulder. The wind is
harsh today and it offers a great deal of resistance. I have to thrust
against the door with all of my weight. 

Once I am outside I realize that even as bundled as I am, the cold
bites through to my bones. The sky is gray and ominous but so far
it hasn't snowed today. The path leading from the building I live in
to the library is one of the better traveled walkways on the campus
so the snow and ice aren't as densely accumulated as they are on
most of the other trails. It's not a terribly difficult walk. Which is
good for me because I'm pretty sure there will be a mailbox
somewhere near the library. 

From what I can tell, the six floor building that houses the library is
the largest one here. Aside from the dining hall which, thankfully, is
about two steps from my front door, most of the public facilities are
either in the library building or in one of the smaller buildings
surrounding it.

Patterson Hall is about halfway between the dorm and the library
and when I reach it I sigh with some relief, realizing half the walk is
behind me. This building is where most of the planning and
organizing that keeps this community together takes place. I've
never actually been inside but supposedly there are offices,
belonging to the heads of the various committees, as well as
conference rooms and a large lecture hall. 

As I pass the building I see a man approaching me, the first person
I've seen outside today. I can't tell who it is because of the black ski
mask covering his face. Wish I'd put mine on. My cheeks are almost
numb.

As he gets closer I notice that his black jeans have a hole in the
knee and that underneath them, he's wearing a pair of white long
johns. That might have been a good idea for me as well. 

"Scully?" he calls out over the wind. It starts to snow lightly.

He reaches the front entrance to Patterson Hall and waves me over
to join him. Maybe this is where the mailbox is. He opens the door
with a key and we walk in together. The sudden warmth hurts my
face.

He pulls off his mask with a familiar grimace.

"Scully, what are you doing outside today? It's gotta be 40 below
out there."

"Where's the mailbox, Krycek?"

His eyebrows knot together and he sits down on a small wooden
bench. It seems to be the only place to sit in the lobby of this
building so I sit down beside him.

"The what?" 

"The mailbox. I've got a letter I need to send. And I need an
envelope too. I couldn't find any at the warehouse."

"There's...there's no mailbox. There's no mail anymore, Scully."

"No mail?"

Panic gathers and constricts in my chest. How can there be no mail?
How will I send my letter? 

"Not this time of year. The roads are impassable. Nothing can get in
or out of here unless it comes from..." he drifts off and points
towards the sky. 

"Well, I've gotta send it that way then."

"Scully, it doesn't work that way. They don't..." 

He sighs heavily and shakes his head at me, obviously too impatient
to explain fully. He does that a lot. 

"What have you got to send anyway?"

I debate for a moment about whether or not to show him. It's a
private letter but maybe if he sees how important it is, he'll help me
figure out a way to get it to the right place. I reach into my pocket
and pull out the paper and hand it to him.

His face is expressionless as he reads. When he finishes he closes
his eyes for a very long time. When he opens them again, I don't
like what I see there. It looks like pity.

"Scully, you can't..."

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair, looks
away from me and out the window. 

"You can't send this."

"Why not?"

"For more reasons than I could possibly enumerate. First of all,
Scully...Mulder...Mulder's gone."

No. More lies. I should have known better than to ask him for help.
God Mulder, why can't you come and make him stop telling these
lies about you?

I grab the paper back from him and shove it into my pocket, biting
back an angry and frustrated tear. I stand up from the bench,
needing to get far away from Alex Krycek and his stupid, pathetic
lies. He won't let me go though. He grabs my sleeve with his leather
gloved hand.

"Scully, wait. Even if he were still alive, you can't just send a letter
with 'Mulder' written on the envelope and expect him to get it and
even if you could, you can't go around sending out letters like this!
This is....if the wrong person read this, Scully, we'd be dead. Do
you understand that? There are certain things that you can't just go
blabbing about in a letter. You can't..."

"Go to hell," I whisper, pulling my arm away from him and running
out the door, back into the cold. I'll find my own way. I'll find you,
Mulder. With or without anyone's help. 

xxxxxx

It's been almost nine months since I found Dana Scully, brain dead
and robbed of her spirit, living in the mansion of a traitor. Nine
months of absolute hell. 

It's been three months since that January day when I found her
wandering aimlessly through the snow, clutching that piece of paper 
like a little girl with a letter to Santa. I hadn't realized until that day
just how bad it really was. My sources had given me the
documentation, proof of Mulder's death, several weeks before that
day and I'd honestly thought that she'd believed it. She hadn't been
eating or talking much since I'd shown her the papers but that
wasn't any more unusual for her then than it is now. I'd thought she
was mourning quietly. 

That day I realized that she wasn't grieving her losses yet. She was
completely delusional. 

Denial is the first stage in any sort of difficult process I suppose,
and Scully's denial was a long and sad one. I had to carry her back
to her room that day, over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes,
after I found her semi-conscious, huddled under a tree, several
hours after our conversation about her letter. She was still gripping
the paper in her blue-ish white hand, still looking for the elusive
mailbox. It was the most pitiful thing I've ever seen.  

The weeks following that day were worse than the ones before it.
She was growing thinner and paler every day and she refused to
speak to me or anyone else. It was bad. But it's never been as bad
as it's been for the past two weeks.

Two weeks ago she decided to believe me, to believe the proof, the
documentation that I found. Two weeks ago she finally started to
let Mulder go. 

I was eating my lunch in the cafeteria when I saw her. She was
standing in line, waiting for her stew, when suddenly her face
turned deadly white and she dropped her dish to the floor,
shattering it to a million pieces. I ran to her and took her by the
shoulders, looked into her eyes, and I knew immediately. 

"He's gone. I can't feel him. He's gone," is what she said. I brought
her back to her room and she sat down on her bed and curled up
into a ball. I expected her to cry, or maybe to kick me out. But she
didn't do anything, hasn't done anything. Nothing at all. I haven't
seen her leave that room one single time since that day. 

I've been bringing her food every day since she refuses to bring
herself to the cafeteria anymore. I leave a full plate on her desk at
noon and another one at six. Usually there's no more than a bite or
two or three missing from the meals when I come back to pick
them up.  

Yesterday I brushed her hair. It's grown to the middle of her back
and could be quite beautiful if she took care of it I suppose. Lately
it's been hanging over her face in greasy, knotted clumps. I told her
she was going to have dread locks soon if she didn't let me run the
comb through. She didn't respond at all so I did it. 

It makes me sick. Seeing her turning into this shell of a woman, this
pathetic Sylvia Plath wanna-be,  is just too symbolic of how
completely fucked up the world has become. And besides that, she's
become a drain, taking up space and resources and not giving
anything back. We can't afford her. I can't afford her. I can't spend
my days playing nursemaid to a crazy woman who doesn't even
want to recover. If she doesn't get better soon, we'll have to send
her away. I don't want that to happen.
 
I can't believe it's March. It's been a long, deadly winter. Endless. 
Colder than usual with even more snow. The claustrophobia is
overwhelming. Just walking from the cafeteria to Scully's room,
carrying this plate of food, is an ordeal because of the wind, the
bitter, painful wind, and the ice on the ground. 

I wonder how the others can bear it.  I pass groups of them,
huddled together in their second-hand hats and mittens, laughing
and smiling despite their discomfort. Until they see me. When they
see me they frown and nod and scurry in various directions. Scared.
They're scared. Of me.

It still surprises me. Sometimes it even amuses me. An entire
population, almost four hundred people now, and they're all afraid
of me. They respect me. They look up to me. I'm the boss here, for
the first time in my life. Although I never expected it to happen in
quite this way, this is exactly what I've been looking for, craving,
chasing forever. It's what I've killed and nearly died for. It's what
I've sacrificed all semblance of a normal life for. I should be happy
as a pig in shit. And some days I am. Some days. Some days though
I wish it had taken less than the annihilation of the world for me to
get to be in charge. 

When I get to her door I open it without even considering
knocking. I finally realized a few days ago that she was never going
to answer when I knocked so I've started just walking right in. It's
not like she's ever doing anything private. She's never doing
anything at all. 

She's as tragic as ever, her knees pulled up to her chest and her hair
disheveled, rocking back and forth like a B-movie mental patient,
looking down at her arms. I follow her gaze, down to her  left hand
which is tightened into a fist, her arm resting against her curled
thighs, her right hand clutching a knife and cutting precisely and
expertly into her flesh. A line of crimson stains the porcelain of her
wrist and for a moment we are both so startled by it that all we can
do is stare. Her with detached curiosity, me with horrified
understanding. 

I look back and forth between her arms, the knife and the tray
sitting on her desk, uneaten slab of meat on a plate and a fork
resting beside it, unused. No knife. 

The moment seems to dangle for an eternity, the two of us staring
at the trail of blood as it starts to thicken and drip until finally she
looks up and meets my eyes, breaking the strange stalemate and
bringing life back to my limbs. The tray I'd been balancing on my
prosthetic arm clatters to the floor and the sound of breaking glass
fills the room.  

"Scully...SCULLY!"

I kneel down in front of her hold out my hand.

"Give me the knife."

She blinks at me, recognition barely coloring her clouded eyes.

"GIVE ME THE KNIFE!"

No response. I grab the offending object, noticing absently that I've
clutched it by the blade, with my real hand no less, and that I'm
probably going to bleed to death myself, and wrestle it from her
weak grip. I let it fall to the floor with another clatter and my mind
seems to implode with the force of my panic. I have no idea what to
do. I grab her by the shoulders and shake her.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

She's still staring at me and she's still bleeding. I look around
frantically for something to stop it with. Socks. She's wearing
socks. I take her foot in my hand and pull one of them off and tie it
around her wrist as a make-shift bandage. It's not exactly medicine
for the millennium but it'll do.

"Dammit Scully, I know you're in there. Say something. Anything."

Neurons begin firing in my brain finally and I realize it would
probably be a good idea to take her to the infirmary. The sock is
already turning red. I try to stand and haul her up by the shoulders
but she's so slack and lifeless it's almost impossible to get a grip on
her. She slips through my fingers and back to the floor. 

"Scully you've gotta go to the doctor. You've gotta get up. Come
on." 

I reach for her again and she pulls away slightly.

"Just let me die," she whispers, so quietly I barely hear her, and
curls up against her bed. It's the first thing I've heard her say in two
weeks. 

Just let me die, she said. What the hell does she think? That life is a
right these days? A given? Doesn't she know how fucking lucky she
is? There are some things I have absolutely no patience for and this
kind of disgusting self pity is one of them. 

"Dammit Scully, what the hell is your problem? Don't you know
how lucky you are to be alive? How can you throw that away?"

She stares through me, her head sagging against the mattress and
her arms hanging limp now at her sides. 

"I have to go...I have to go to him. He's going to be looking for me.
He needs me to be there."

"He's dead, Scully. DEAD. He's not looking for you. He's not doing
anything. He's GONE. That doesn't mean you have to go too. He
wouldn't want this, Scully. He wouldn't want you to do this."

I kneel down in front of her, that damn panic bubbling in my chest
again, and clutch her upper arms in my hands, shaking her. 

"You don't have to do this! DON'T DO THIS! Dammit, look at
me! LOOK AT ME!" 
  
Her eyes meet mine again and this time there's a response, a change.
From utter lack of cognition to sudden, darkening fury. Her brow
furrows and her pupils dilate and then she spits a glob of saliva onto
my cheek. 

"Get your hands off me," she whispers with some actual feeling.
More than I've seen from her in ages.

"We have to go to the doctor Scully. You..."

"No. You should be dead. You should be dead. WHY AREN'T
YOU DEAD?"

Suddenly she's darting across the floor, groping for her knife again.
I see her right hand about to close around the handle and stand up,
planting my foot squarely on her wrist.

"I don't think so, Scully."

I reach down and pick up the damn thing and stick it in my jacket
pocket, making a mental note to never bring Scully a meal that she
has to cut again. 

"You...you should be dead. YOU! WHY NOT YOU?"

Why indeed. It's not as though I haven't asked. Same reason as all
the other non-merchandised humans who managed to live I
suppose. I was willing to do what it took to get my hands on the
vaccine. Survival of the fittest. That's not really what she's asking
though. She wants to know how the universe could be so cruel as
to allow a scum-sucking bastard like me to carry on and to cut
down her precious angel Mulder. Why me and not him. Why him
and not me. 

"Get off the floor and come with me to the doctor, Scully. This isn't
gonna bring him back."

"Let me go. Just let me go to him..."

"STOP IT! WAKE UP! You're not gonna go to him if you kill
yourself. You're not gonna go anywhere. You're just gonna die.
That's all that happens Scully. You don't see a white tunnel with
Mulder at the end. You don't run off into the sunset of the afterlife
together. YOU DIE! You die and you rot away in the ground and
that's all."

"SHUT UP! Stop it! Stop it!"

She scrambles to her feet and before I know what the hell's going
on her tiny fists are pummeling my chest. Her sudden show of
strength takes me so completely by surprise I literally almost fall
down. 

"You're a lying piece of SHIT! That's not what happens...not...not
to him...not to Mulder...Mulder...Mu..."

I finally manage to get a hold of her flailing hands and she sags
against me.

"Mulder," she whispers and a lone tear trails down her cheek. I
have a feeling it's the first of many. 

xxxxxx

end chapter 2


TITLE: World Without End: Book One (3/12)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton
EMAIL: RAnton1013@aol.com


xxxxxx

Today I saw the sun.

Winter here is long. It starts in October and from what I've heard,
often lasts until mid-April. The sky is gray every day. The snow
piles higher than some of the buildings. The cold...the cold is a
living presence. The sun is only in the sky for a few hours a day and
it's always obscured by clouds. 

Today is April first. Today I saw the sun.

I went for a walk this afternoon. It was warm enough to be outside
for several hours without having to worry about frostbite but not
warm enough for the snow to start melting. 

I found him about a hundred feet behind the science center, where
the forest begins, on the other side of the fence. I saw his mother
there, icicles dangling from her fur, eyes open. I asked the guard
posted to open the gate for me and let me go to her. I'm not sure
why.

I knelt down beside her and touched her, knowing she was already
dead but unable to help myself. She seemed so peaceful and I
needed to feel that.

I ran my fingers over her muzzle. It was cold and wet. 

Then I heard the whimper. I lifted her body as gently as I could and
placed her beside her son, a wriggling, sniffing, very much alive,
Rottweiler puppy. He looked to be about four weeks old. He was
cold and unhappy, probably hungry, but he was alive. She saved his
life, keeping him safe and dry under her body.

I buried mother dog in the snow, unable to reach the ground with
only my hands, and took her baby into my arms. He wiggled his tail
happily and licked my cheek. 

I think I might have cried.

And then I saw the sun.

xxxxxx

Scully was released from the infirmary a few days ago. When I
brought her there after her suicide attempt they decided to keep her
for awhile. She was dangerously underweight and needed to be fed
through an iv. She kept pulling it out until I got Bryan to sit next to
her twenty four hours a day. 

Sometimes, at night, I went to see her. She seemed perpetually in
the throes of a nightmare, moaning in pain and calling Mulder's
name in her sleep. 

It made me very glad to have never fallen in love. Of course, I
knew. When I was a thirteen year old boy my father told me what
was going to happen to this world in my lifetime, what I would
have to do in order to survive and I decided that day never to let
anyone get close enough for me to care when they died. It worked
out pretty well for me. I've never felt what Scully feels. 

Anyhow, the doctors decided that she was well enough to be
released this week and that she'd be fine as long as she feeds herself.
I wanted to know if there was anything they could do to insure that
she would but, of course, they're doctors not magicians. Hell,
they're not even really doctors. Scully's one of the only real doctors,
trained and experienced in something other than meatball medicine,
that we've got. We need her. We need her to be well. 

I'm meeting her for lunch today. I'm going to make sure that she's
eating. She's been going to the cafeteria again but I haven't actually
seen her putting food into her mouth first hand yet. I can tell that
she's put on some weight though. And she's been taking care of her
personal grooming, thank God. I was right. Her hair is quite nice
when it's clean and combed. I think she might be well enough to be
given some light work assignments soon. 

The sun is still out when I get to the courtyard in front of the
cafeteria. People are at the picnic tables, talking and eating,
grabbing the light while they can. I see her sitting on a bench, under
a tree, with a plate in her lap, tossing bits of food to the ground.
For a minute I'm worried that she's having another episode but then
when I look at her feet I see what's really going on. She's feeding a
dog. She's feeding her lunch to a fucking dog. 

"What the hell are you doing?"

She looks up at me with this strange smile on her face and I'm
unnerved. I don't know if I've ever seen her smile. 

"What do you mean?"

"Scully, why are you giving your food to a dog?"

"Isn't he adorable?" she croons, tossing another bit of meat from
her sandwich and into the thing's mouth. Then, to appease me I
suppose, she takes a bite herself. The dog yaps excitedly and runs in
a circle around her legs. 

"Why are you giving your food to a dog?" I ask again, exasperated.
What the hell is she thinking?

"He's hungry. Aren't you hungry? Aren't you a hungry puppy? Yes,
Mommy loves you," she rambles incoherently. She puts her plate
down on the bench beside her and then picks the mangy mutt up
and deposits it on her lap. 

"Scully, I don't want you wasting food like that."

"It's my food isn't it? I'm eating some. I just want to share a little bit
of it."

Wagging of tail and licking of face ensues and I feel my temper
rising with every passing second. 

"Scully, where did this thing come from?"

"Thing? It's a puppy, Krycek, not a thing. He's an orphan. I found
him and now he's mine."

She says all of this looking at the dog rather than my face. 

"You're not keeping him."

"Yes I am."

She looks at me again and we stare at each other in a silent
showdown for a minute or two. 

"You can't keep it."

"I'm keeping the dog. It's not a question."  
 
"Scully, what...what are you gonna feed it? You can't keep sharing
your meals with an animal."

"I talked to one of the cooks. He's going to give me table scraps,
stuff they were gonna throw away anyway."

"Where is it gonna live?"

"My room."

"Your room?"

She nods resolutely and kisses the dog's muzzle with a bizarre
slurping sound. 

"Scully, he's gonna get huge. He's small now but..."

"There's room. And the other people on my hall said they wouldn't
mind if he was in the lounge sometimes."

"But what...what's he gonna *do*?" 

"Do?"

"We don't need dogs on the farm. And we can't eat him."

"No, we certainly can't! He's not going to *do* anything. He's
going to be my pet."

"You can't keep it. It's not practical."

She stands up suddenly and shoves the dog into my chest with a
scowl.

"All right, fine, Mister Spock. Take him then. Take him and
euthanize him."

She lets him fall from her hands into my arm and he yaps again and
runs his slobbery tongue over my face.

"Scully..."

"Go ahead. Kill him, Krycek. He can't give you anything so you'd
better get rid of him."

She crosses her arms over her chest and nods shortly. She thinks I
won't do it, that I can't. That just holding the stupid thing and
having it lick my face is gonna turn me into a useless pile of
puppy-loving mush.  

"Fine. I will."

"Fine."

He whimpers and wiggles around in my hand and sniffs at my
fingers. He feels too small, skinny and sick. 

"Pathetic little thing," I mutter and she looks up at me and then
down at the ground.

"Is that what you said about me?"

Oh man. 

I shove the thing back into her arms with a sigh.

"Fine. Keep it. But you better housebreak it fast. And you're gonna
have to walk it all the time. Even in the snow. No paper training or
any of that bullshit."

"Yes sir," she snaps with a phony salute. She sits back on the bench
and continues playing with her new pet and although the thing is a
waste of space and food, it seems to be making her happy. I can't
think of anything else that's done that. I guess if it keeps her from
shooting herself in the head to have something to take care of then
it's not completely useless. 

"So, what are you gonna name it?" I ask, kneeling down to examine
him for fleas and other parasites.

"Reticulan. Ret for short."

I shrug, not sure if this is a good dog name but not ready to get into
a fight over something so idiotic. I trust it has some kind of
sentimental significance for her. 

"Look, Krycek, you don't need to worry about him being a pain.
We're probably going to be leaving once the snow clears anyway."

"What?"

This is the first I've heard her mention anything like this. Leaving?
Where in the world does she think she's going to go?

"I want to go...I want to see what's out there, Krycek. I need to."

"Nothing's out there. It's not safe."

"I need to see for myself."

"No."

"No?"

She looks shocked and a tiny bit amused that I would even dare to
attempt to tell her what to do. I see a glimmer of the Dana Scully I
once knew for the first time in a very long time. It only increases
my desire to see her stay.  

"We need you, Scully. You'd be a big help."

"I...I'm still thinking about it. We'll see."

Why is the thought of her leaving making my chest constrict? 

"Let's go get you some lunch, Krycek. We'll talk about this later." 

She stands up and starts to head inside the cafeteria. I nod but find
myself unable to follow her for a minute. For some reason all I can
do is stand there, staring at the back of her head as she walks away. 

xxxxxx

The snow is starting to melt, Mulder. Soon it will be time for me to
go. 

Krycek doesn't want me to go. He thinks I'll be killed if I leave here.
But he's offered to give me some supplies and weapons to protect
myself if I do. Considering the value he places on those things, it's
quite a generous offer. 

I can hardly believe I've been here almost an entire year. And that
it's been almost two years since I last saw you. I wonder how many
more years it will take for me to stop waking up in the middle of
the night wanting to die, to join you finally, together for eternity.
Would you be disappointed in me for being so weak? Maybe after
the first century or so you would forgive me and we could be
happy. 

Krycek talked me into attending my first community meeting today.
It seems silly considering I'm going to be leaving so soon but I'm
frankly a little curious about what goes on in these meetings. They
take place once every six months in the main lecture hall in
Patterson. When I enter the room, I'm a little shocked at how many
people I see. I've only really met a few of the members of this
community in the time I've been here and even though Krycek told
me how many there were, it's still surprising to see something close
to four hundred people in this room. Some of them are clones,
some former slaves, some shape-shifters, some half-breeds, and
some who, like Krycek, just managed to get lucky and survive.
Everyone here has been injected with the vaccine that you slipped
into my bloodstream so many years ago. Did you know what you
were doing in that moment? Did you realize that saving me would
kill so many? I don't think you knew that you were tipping them off.
I don't think you realized that your actions would set off such a
hideous chain of events. But if you had known, I doubt you would
have done things any differently. Sometimes I get angry when I
think about that. 

I take a seat in the front row, next to Roseanne. She's a scientist
and she runs the lab here. She's also a clone. I think the others from
her group are dead. She's one of the few people I've spoken to and
I find her a very calming presence for some reason. Maybe it's
because she looks a little bit like Samantha. Her hair is a darker
shade of brown and she's a little shorter but there's something about
her eyes that is familiar.

There's a podium in the front of the room where I suppose, once
upon a time, some grizzled, befuddled professor used to lecture to
his students about some arcane, academic subject matter. Today,
Alex Krycek stands behind that podium and begins giving a surreal
speech about the start of the new farming season and the fact that
winter is finally over and it's time to get back into attack mode.

 I know this is the right side but the lines are blurring in my head.
When everyone is preoccupied with killing, how can there be a right
side? I guess that's war. 

Should I stay here, Mulder? Would you have wanted to stay? 

It's strange to see Krycek like this. I have to say, he really seems to
be in his element. He's a passionate and determined speaker and, I
suppose, a strong leader. And these people stare at him with awe
and terror. It's actually almost funny. I remember the way you used
to smack him around, Mulder, the way he seemed almost more of a
nuisance than a real danger. Who would have thought he'd end up
like this? Who would have thought I'd have ended up here with
him, everyone else I've known vanished without a trace?

He moves on to talk about the work of the various committees and
how things are coming along in terms of weapons development. He
gives a harsh, grating lecture about the importance of creating
bigger, better, more efficient killing devices which seems to thrill
everyone. It turns my stomach, Mulder. Is this all there is? Is this all
there ever was?

Then, the final blow, he starts talking about allocating more funds
and resources towards the development of a biological weapon,
some kind of gas that is effective against shape-shifters, and taking
these funds and resources away from medical research. He starts
shooting off his mouth at the people who work in the lab and how
they've been spending too much time on that "medical crap" and
telling them they need to get down to business and perfect that
stupid gas. 

And I just can't stand it anymore. I don't know why I care. I sure as
hell don't want to save myself. When my time comes, I'll go happily
now. Won't see me putting up a fight, Mulder. But these other
people, it's just not right.

I know it's not protocol to do so, but I feel a need to say something.
I glance over at Roseanne who is chewing on a pencil and
frowning. She looks unhappy with the whole direction here but I
don't think she would ever challenge him. I don't think anyone here
would ever challenge him. It's really annoying. What are they so
afraid of? It's Alex Krycek for Christ's sake.

I clear my throat and stand up, almost hearing you cheer me on in
the background, Mulder. 

"Krycek, can I say something?"

He stares at me blankly for a second, obviously confused by the
disruption of his diatribe. 

"Scully?"

"Yes, I...I'd like to say something."

There is a low murmur running through the crowd now. This must
be the first time anyone has ever interrupted his holy highness
before. 

"Um...yeah, go ahead I guess."

"Well, it occurs to me that it might be in everyone's best interest if
instead of reducing the importance of your medical research you
actually give the area even more focus and attention than it has
already."

The room falls absolutely silent and Krycek just stares at me some
more, his jaw flapping in the breeze.

"I mean, honestly, I've seen your so called medical lab and I don't
know exactly what you expect to do when all the former slaves
living here start dropping off like flies in a few years. We're almost
a quarter of your population, Krycek."

He finally seems to regain some of his bearing now that the shock
has worn off and he grumbles into his little microphone, "There's
plenty of time for that kind of thing. Right now we need to
concentrate on defense, invasion and rescue. That's been our focus
and it's been successful."

"What's the point of rescue if the people you rescue are dying?"

I start to see a few former slaves nodding in approval and the more
I speak, the stronger my convictions become. They need to find a
cure for this damn disease.

"Don't you want this movement to grow, Krycek? To carry on and
continue?"

"There's...there's time for that. We've got a lot of time. No one's
even gotten the cancer yet, Scully." 

"That's great. I'm glad to hear it. But you know what, you don't
have a lot of time. That's something you realize when you get
diagnosed with a fatal illness. I can attest to that."

He's leaning against the podium now, gripping the side of it in his
right hand and looking up at the ceiling. He opens his mouth to say
something and then stops. Then he looks back at me and if looks
could kill...

"All right. Then what do you suggest we do, doctor? What's your
brilliant plan?" he asks in a voice laden with sarcasm and anger. 

"I suggest that the next time you go into one of these colonies and
start murdering people that before you leave you take a look
around, maybe go through their files, their computers, and see if
there isn't some valuable information there. Information about the
disease. Information about a cure. And I also suggest that you
devote a lot more time and energy to your medical facilities and if
you can't do that personally, find someone who can."

"Oh really? Is that what you suggest?"

He steps off the podium and actually comes down to my level so
that he's standing face to face with me. He looks even angrier up
close. His cheeks are red and his pupils are dilated.

"And who might you suggest do all of this work, Doctor Scully?"

"There's probably lots of people here who would be willing to work
on that. Maybe if you'd actually ask people what they want, what's
important to them, you'd find out."

He takes a deep breath and looks like he's about ready to rip into
me but then he stops, seeming to remember that we've got an
audience. 

"All right, who here is willing to work on what Doctor Scully is
suggesting?" he asks the crowd. 

A few reluctant, almost terrified hands go up, including Roseanne's,
and then a few more, and a few more until eventually there are
about thirty hands in the air. Certainly enough to form a workable
committee. 

"Well, there you go," I say, sitting back down and feeling as though
I've made my point sufficiently. No need to continue with the
debate. He nods curtly at me and then turns back to the audience.

"Okay, whoever would like to head up this little venture, please
step forward."

A resounding, deafening silence.

"Anyone?"

More silence. 

"Anyone?"

"Krycek, you don't necessarily need a head. You could just have a
committee, a group of people working together with equal
authority. Every group doesn't necessarily need an authoritarian
figure head. No offense." 

I smirk and a few people actually chuckle. They stop as soon as he
looks at them. 

Roseanne clears her throat and then says, "Why couldn't you do it,
Doctor Scully?"

I look at her, utterly aghast and shake my head. How could she
even suggest such a thing? 

"Well...I...I'm, I don't even know if I'm staying. I mean...it would..."
I look at Krycek for help but now he's the one smirking. 

"Your knowledge, your background, your wisdom is extensive,
Doctor Scully. I think I speak for everyone when I say that we need
you. We need your help."

God, Roseanne. I thought you were my friend.

"Surely there must be someone here with medical expertise,
someone who would be willing..."

"We've got a quite a few scientists but no real doctors. No one with
your experience. You'd be invaluable. And you'd make a wonderful
leader."

Oh my God. Make it stop. I'm starting to wonder why I ever
opened my mouth in the first place.

"Shall we put it to a vote Doctor Scully?" Krycek asks me, all
smiles all of a sudden. 

"Can I have a word with you?" I growl and he keeps right on
grinning.

"We'll be right back folks. Doctor Scully wants to tell me a secret."

They all laugh and I feel like punching him. I bring him out into the
hall and ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing.

xxxxxx

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Me? You're the one going nuts. I'm just trying to carry on a nice,
routine meeting."

"Why are you letting them...why can't you..."

She throws up her hands in frustration, I suppose because she
doesn't have any real reason to be angry with me. 

"This isn't me asking you this time, Scully. They want you. They
need you. It's not like I told Roseanne to say those things."

Not that I wouldn't have done that if I'd thought of it. Luckily I
didn't have to. Luckily I'm not the only one who thinks that she
belongs here. She looked so alive back there, so different from the
zombie she's been ever since we found Mulder. I think proving me
wrong might be the only thrill she can get out of life at this point. I
don't even care any more that she made me look like an ass. Maybe
it's okay to look like an ass sometimes. 

"Krycek, I know...I mean, I feel...I want to help. Honestly."

"Then do it. Just do it, Scully. You'd be perfect for this. You'd
make a terrific leader."

"I don't want to be a leader, Krycek. I don't...I don't know if I can. I
mean it's all I can do to even get out of bed in the morning. How
am I supposed to be any kind of leader?"

"Scully, maybe this is just what you need. Maybe this will give you
something to get up for. Look, Scully, as much as it pains me to
admit it, you were right back there. Everything you said was
completely true and...and if you weren't here, I never would have
even thought of it. I mean, don't you feel bad for those people,
having me as their sole authority figure?"

She nods and smiles and I wish she hadn't agreed so damn quickly. 

"And besides, I know this is low but what would Mulder think?
Wouldn't he want you to do this, to carry on? Wouldn't he want
you to save the world, Scully?"

This seems to hit some kind of nerve because she grimaces and
glares at me. 

"That is low. You're a manipulative bastard."

"A sexy one though, huh?"

"An arrogant one. But you're right."

"About the sexy thing?"

She rolls her eyes but she doesn't try to kill me or herself so I guess
you could say we're making progress. 

"All right. Fine. You win. You're a pig but you win. I'll stay. I'll run
this thing but I've got a condition." . 

"Anything, Scully. I'm at your mercy."

God, when the hell did that happen anyway? 

"I want autonomy, Krycek. I want this to be my project. That
means no butting into my work, no telling me what to do and how
to do it, no going over my head and telling the people working for
me what to do. In fact, I don't even want you in the lab at all unless
I ask you specifically to be there and...what are you laughing at?" 

"Upryamuy devotchka..."

"What did you say?"

"Never mind, Scully."

"Why are you laughing?"

"It's just...you're so..."

"So what?"

I think she'd hit me if I told her even one of the words on my mind
so I don't say anything.

"Look Krycek, those are my conditions. If you can't live with them
then you're going to have to find somebody else."

"No, Scully, that's fine. Perfect in fact. It's yours."

The noise of chatter and speculation coming from the conference
room is growing louder and louder. I think it's time to go back
before they decide to assassinate me and make Scully their new
commander in chief. 

"Why don't you go give them the good news, Doctor Scully."

I hold open the door for her and when she walks back down the
aisle to reach the podium they all start applauding, cheering for her.
They get more and more enthusiastic and by the time she's behind
the microphone it sounds like a freaking Michael Jackson concert in
1986. She looks tiny and overwhelmed. She has to adjust the mic
for her height and when she clears her throat into it, the sound is
deafening. 

I run back down the aisle myself, to the sound of silence thank you
very much, and take her previous seat next to Roseanne. 

"What did you say to her?" she asks me. 

"I asked her to marry me."

"And she's still here?"

"Shut up, she's talking."

And she is. But for the life of me I can't seem to concentrate on
what it is that she's saying. All I can focus on is the light, the energy
in her eyes. She's alive, aware, focused. I know she'll never be the
woman she once was. She'll never recover from losing Mulder. But
maybe she can become a new woman. An even stronger woman,
hardened by her suffering but no less determined. An angry woman.
A woman who I would be blessed to have on my side. 

xxxxxx

end chapter 3



TITLE: World Without End: Book One (4/12)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton

xxxxxx

"Dammit, what the hell is taking them so long?"

Bryan looks up from the dog-eared, old book he's been reading,
startled by my outburst, and shrugs. For some reason the gesture
makes me want to smack him.  Bryan's a wonderful guy but when
you spend every waking minute with someone even a shrug can be
enough to make a person positively homicidal. Especially when that
person is on edge as it is.

Bryan is my body guard now. I'm the only person here who's got
one. I didn't ask for one. He didn't ask to be one. And yet, here we
are. Krycek decided to "give" him to me when he made me his
second in command. He seemed to think the position would put me
in constant peril but so far I haven't seen any signs of that. I asked
why he didn't have one himself if the whole thing was so dangerous
and he just snorted. He's cheated death so many times I guess he
thinks he's just too damn immortal for a body guard. I hope he's
right.

He's been gone for almost a week now. Too damn long. It should
have only taken two days for them to travel to the site, two days
back, give or take one day for complications. Five days. Six at the
very outside. It's been seven days.

 He took a pretty small party, only about fifteen men, because the
plan was to kill only one person. A scientist, if you could call him
that, one of the genetic engineers, one of the butchers. It was my
idea. He seemed like a strategically wise target, someone with
access to tons of information, and a bastard to boot. 

My stupid idea. If something has gone wrong, I'm not sure what I'll
do. 

I've been spending every day since they left, working in the lab,
trying to keep my mind off the danger I might have put them in and
trying like hell not to wonder why I've been worried about Krycek
since the minute he walked out the door. 

I miss you, Mulder. Every day, I miss you. But this work, it's been
helping. It's given me something to live for. I like to think that you
would be proud of me. I like to think that you're here with me,
helping me solve the mysteries of this life. I can still feel you here. I
don't think that will ever change. 

It's strange to find myself starting to care for another person. Not
the way I care for you, Mulder. Nothing in this world could ever
compare to what we shared. And the thought of growing attached
to someone the way I was to you, or even to my family, to anyone
that I've lost, terrifies me to the root of my being. I vowed a long
time ago never to let myself be hurt that way again. I've learned my
lesson. But Krycek has given me a lot. And I think he's a good man
Mulder. I can almost hear you laughing at that. It's true though. He
can be hard and cold and insufferably self-serving but he saved me.
He saved me so many times and in so many ways that I've lost track
at this point. And I've seen glimpses, momentary peeks at what
goodness there is in him. There is kindness there, and a strange kind
of sweetness.   

I look up at the clock for the twentieth time in an hour and then
back to the microscope. Everything under there is starting to look
the same. I'm starting to think I might be done for the day. I don't
want to leave though. If I leave, it means that another day is over
and they're still not back.

"Bryan, I think you can go now. I'm gonna head back to my room
in a few minutes."

"You sure, Doc? The boss'll be mad if..."

"Bryan, please. I need to be alone for a little bit. I'll be fine." 

He nods in understanding and makes a hasty exit. It's rare that I tell
him to leave me the hell alone but when I do, he usually listens. I'm
sure he'll stay close though, definitely not out of ear shot. And Ret
is here, sitting quietly in the corner. He's turned out to be the most
docile, obedient dog I've ever known in my life. He's also fiercely
protective of me and provides effective guard dog service. 

I start to clean up the area a little bit, put some things in order, dust
the equipment. Now that I am truly alone my thoughts travel back
to places I've been avoiding.

I talked to Roseanne a lot this afternoon. She told me some very
strange things. Things about Krycek. Apparently he used to be sort
of, well, I suppose slutty is the best word for it. She said that before
I came here, he slept around the campus like a drunken college
freshman and that he'd broken many a heart in the process. She also
told me that during the two years I've been here, he hasn't been with
anyone. I don't know why she told me that. I don't think I really
wanted to know that. I almost asked her if she was one of his
conquests but I was afraid of the answer.

I watched her for the rest of the day, keeping an eye out for any
signs of heartbreak and for a clue about why she felt the need to
share this little bit of information with me today. Maybe she could
tell that I was thinking about him, that I was scared. When she left
she put her hand on my shoulder and said, "He'll be fine. He always
is." I smiled and nodded and tried not to let it show that I wasn't so
sure about that. 

All right, I've done everything but the windows. I guess it really is
time to go. As I start to gather my things Ret stands and starts
barking wildly. The door flies open and for a minute I am so happy
to see him back and alive that I don't notice what he looks like. 

"Scully! Scully!!"

He runs up to me and my eyes adjust to the sight of him. He's an
absolute mess. His face is dirty and sweaty and his jeans are ripped
and the white of the T-shirt he's wearing under that leather jacket is
stained with a deep crimson. Ret has run to his side and is sniffing
him and whimpering with concern. 

"Krycek, oh my God, what happened to you?"

"What? I'm fine. Scully, look at this!"

He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces two computer
disks. He shoves them at me with the biggest smile I've ever seen.

"Look, look what I got," he says again, sounding like a ten year old
who just got an A on his book report. I take the disks from him
without even glancing at them and put them on a table.

"Krycek, sit down and let me examine you."

"What? Scully, no, you've gotta look at these. Get...ahhh...get the
computer."

"I'll look at them later. God, you're covered with blood."

I move closer to him and try to pull his jacket off and lead him to a 
chair but he's moving all over the place. Ret barks again and runs in
a circle, imitating Krycek's hyperactive movements. 

"I don't think it's mine. Look, Scully, I think this is it. I think this is
what we've been looking for. What you wanted Scully. I think it's in
the...in the disks."

"Krycek, I don't care what's in the disks right now. It's not gonna
do us any good if you...God, will you just sit down!"

"Scully, I'm..."

He wobbles a little bit and finally gropes around for the chair I've
been trying to force him into. He sits down with a grunt and wipes
his brow. 

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. We've gotta...we need to...um...see
what...ahhh," he groans inarticulately as I pull his jacket off. The
right sleeve of his shirt is completely soaked in blood.

"I'm gonna take off your shirt," I tell him, looking around for a
knife to cut it open with. I find a pair of scissors and move back to
him. He's fucking smiling again.

"First me then you. How 'bout it, Doctor?"

I cut a line down the center of his shirt and slowly, as gently as I
can manage it, peel back the right side. Just as I suspected. He's got
a fucking bullet hole in his shoulder. God, there's so much blood. I
don't even understand how he's still conscious. He must be running
on pure adrenaline.

Ret is still hovering and making noises, adding to the chaos
although he is trying to be helpful, and I tell him gently, but firmly,
to get the hell out of my way. He trots back a few feet and sits
down to watch us with interest.

"Krycek, you've been shot." 

He shrugs and then winces with the pain of the movement.

"It's just a graze. Went right through. Scully we..." 

"We need to get you to the infirmary. Right now."

My voice sounds shrill and terrified. God, I'm close to panic. How
did I get like this? 

"Scully...we lost Curtis."

I don't know how to react to that. I barely knew him but I know he
was one of Krycek's best soldiers. It's terrible really but all I can
seem to think about right now is the fact that Krycek is sitting here
bleeding all over my hands.

"Oh...oh, God. Any others?"

"No but a few injuries. Minor injuries."

"As minor as yours? Jesus, Krycek what are you doing here? Why
didn't you go right to the infirmary? Why didn't they take you..."

"I wanted to give these to you. I'll be fine. Just go see what's on
the...on the...disks."

"That can wait. It can...oh God..."

It finally occurs to me to call for help and I do, at the top of my
lungs. I think Bryan is still outside somewhere. Somebody's gotta
be around. Somebody's gotta be able to help.

"Scully, Jeez, stop shouting. You're gonna....you....oh...I don't feel
so good all of a sudden."

His eyes slip shut and he slumps down in the chair. I kneel down
next to him and wipe some of the sweat off his forehead.

"It's okay. It's gonna be okay. You're gonna be fine. Just fine..."

Bryan rushes in and stops dead in his tracks when he sees Krycek.

"Doctor Scu...oh my God."

"Bryan, I need you to get down to the infirmary and get a stretcher.
And get a nurse to come down here with you. Tell them that
Krycek's been shot and that he needs to be anesthetized and
prepped for surgery right away."

"How did this happen D..."

"Don't ask questions! Just do it!"

"Is..."

"Do it NOW!"

He scurries away, quite terrified, and I turn back to Krycek. He
seems to be flitting in and out of consciousness. 

"Don' need surjaaarry. Wen' righ' trough," he murmurs without
opening his eyes.

"There might still be fragments. And we need to clean it out and
that's going to hurt like hell if you're conscious."

"Mmm, jus' need a few stitches."

"Jesus Krycek, do you wanna get gangrene and lose your other
arm? Just shut up and let me take care of it all right. I *am* a
doctor, remember."

"Mmm...doctoorr," he mutters and drifts off again. God, where the
hell is that nurse? Part of me wants to run to the infirmary myself
and get everything I need to perform the procedure right here. But I
don't want to leave him. I'm afraid if I leave him that when I come
back...God, Krycek. Don't you dare die. Not you too. Please God,
don't let him die.

xxxxxx

When I wake up, I am screaming. Like getting startled out of a
terrifying dream. Except that this isn't a dream. This is my life. It
takes me a moment or two to realize that I'm not in the middle of a
battle. When I feel someone touching me I grope frantically for my
weapon. Until I open my eyes. 

"You...I, um...Whoa..."

I am suddenly dizzy from the effort of sitting fully upright and lean 
against the slightly raised back of the bed.

"Are you all right, Krycek?"

"I hurt everywhere," I whine before giving it a moment's
consideration. Stupid, stupid fuck. Could try to be at least
*slightly* courageous here. 

But then she runs a cool washcloth over my forehead and gives me
a thousand watt smile of encouragement and I think maybe being a
wuss has its advantages. 

"What the hell happened, Scully?"

And while we're at it, how the hell did I end up naked? Whoever
took my clothes off also took the liberty of removing my prosthetic
and I suddenly feel even more pathetic sitting here like this. At least
she's sitting on my right side. 

"You don't remember?"

Images start coming back to me slowly. Finding the disks and...

"I remember Curtis."

She nods sadly.

"I was in this room, this huge-assed mainframe room Scully and
there were disks, data cassettes. I grabbed what I could but there
were soldiers coming and Curtis, he...God, he never had a chance
Scully. They didn't see me though."

"But you still managed to get yourself shot."

"No, not at first. I ran for it and then when they saw me they
opened fire and...Scully, did you look at the disks?"

"Yes, I did. There's a lot of very useful information on them."

Thank God. 

"Curtis died for that information, Scully."

"I know. I...I don't know if this was such a good idea after all."

"What?"

I can't even believe she would say such a thing. Christ, it's what
we've been working for all this time. It's what she wanted.

"I think I was wrong, Krycek. I think...I think that it's too much of
a risk."

This must be about Curtis. She must be feeling guilty that he died
on a mission she sent him on. I know that feeling pretty damn well
myself. But she's got to know that that's always a risk.

"Scully, come on, he knew the danger. I don't think he would have
wanted it any other way..."

"I don't want you to do anything like that again," she blurts out in a
shaky voice, almost sounding as if she's close to tears.

"Me?" Okay, maybe this isn't just about Curtis. It couldn't be about
me though. What does she care about me? "But Scully, what
about..."

"Just don't. Just...just please don't."

"What about procuring valuable information, Doctor Scully? What
about your work? Our work?"

"It's not...It's not worth it, Krycek. Not if you..."

Her hand flutters up to cover her mouth and she looks away from
me. Her eyes are filling with moisture. God, Scully, I wish...I don't
know what I wish. 

"If I...?"

She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths but still leaves her
unfinished sentence dangling in the air.

"Scully?"

"Dammit, Krycek, I can't watch you die. Not you too."

"Hey, Scully, I'm not gonna die. Come on. I've got at least two or
three of my nine lives left over. I'm still here. I'm not..."

"It could have been you. It could have been you just as easily as
Curtis."

"Scully, it always could be me. But it wasn't. And as much as I'm
glad to know that you like me alive, you know I can't promise
something like that. Not in my position." 

I wish I could. That's what I wish. I wish I could give her
everything she wants including my safety. God, I can't even believe
that she cares. 

She nods quickly and wipes her eyes, still refusing to look me in the
eye.

"I know. I know that. I just...I'm just..."

"Just what?"

"I'm scared. I don't...I don't want to lose you. I haven't got anybody
else."

That one sentence makes all the physical pain I've been feeling
vanish without a trace. It's me. She doesn't want to lose *me*. I
feel like my heart is closing in on itself. It's almost painful but in a
different way. No one has ever...I mean, I know that the people
here would be upset if I died, upset in the same way a country is
upset when the president dies, but they would move on, find
another leader. I don't know if anyone would miss me personally. I
don't know if there's ever been someone who would miss me
personally. I don't think so. I don't think anyone in the world has
ever really given a shit if I lived or died, except in regards to how
that might benefit them or perhaps be a detriment. 

I'm so shocked that for a minute I don't even know what to say. I
actually feel choked up. I can't remember the last time that
happened.

"I'm sorry, Krycek. I'm just being selfish. You did a wonderful thing
and it's going to help us all. I should be congratulating you for..."

"You're all I have too, Scully."

She turns and finally looks at my face. Then she smiles and takes
my hand in hers. I have to resist the urge to tug on it and pull her
onto my lap. I just want to lie here, cradling her and kissing her face
forever. What the hell is happening to me? What in the world made
me say that? It must be the meds because I can't seem to stop it. 

"It's more...more than I've ever had in my entire life, Scully. What
you're saying to me now, it..."

God, how do I put this into words that don't render me even more
pathetic and emasculated? Are there even words to describe what
I'm feeling? It's not really entirely a good feeling. It feels like eating
a ten course meal after starving in the desert for a year. Bloated and
achy and raw. 

"What, Krycek?"

"It's just...you just mean a lot to me, Scully."

"You mean a lot to me too. So...so try not to get yourself killed
okay?"

"Um...I'll try, Scully. I promise."

She's still holding my hand. I still don't understand this. We just sit
there holding hands, staring at each other in this weird
uncomfortable silence for a few minutes and part of me wants her
to just go away and stop making me feel so strange. Part of me
wants to make sure she never ever leaves. She's so beautiful. So
very beautiful. It's not that I've never noticed that it's just...right
here, right now, it's almost overwhelming. It's almost too much. 

"You should rest," she tells me, finally breaking the silence and
starting to stand up.

"Wait, Scully, don't...don't leave yet. Can you just..."

I pull on her hand and she sits down again. 

"Want me to stay till you fall asleep again?" she asks in the most
soothing, syrupy voice I've ever heard her use. Despite my
incapacity it does something to my body that comes as a completely
unwelcome shock. Oh Scully, please stop making me feel this way.
I've tried so hard not to want you. It's been working so well so far.
I should tell you to go. I should tell you to leave me the hell alone
and stop touching my face and cooing and telling me that you don't
want me to die. I really really should. 

"Yeah. Would you?"
 
xxxxxx

end chapter 4


TITLE: World Without End: Book One (5/12)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton

xxxxxx

Is this what it feels like to be drunk? It's been so long, I can barely
even remember if I'm doing it right. 

Roseanne came by about an hour ago with a bottle of vodka. Real,
actual vodka. I have no idea where she got it or what she had to do
for it but I don't really care. It's in my room and that's all that
matters. 

We had a horrible day at work. The power went out unexpectedly
and we lost almost an entire morning's worth of research. Typical
but no less infuriating for its regularity. I guess she figured we
could both use some kind of cheering up.

"Do you actually wear this?"

"Huh?" 

Roseanne is standing in front of my closet holding some short, red,
satin tank top against her chest and thrusting her breasts into it
ridiculously. 

"It was in the closet when I got here." 

She tosses it over to me and it hits me in the face and almost makes
me drop the precious bottle onto my comforter.

"Try it on. I'll bet it'll look great."

"Yeah maybe next time we go on a raid."

She snorts and half sits, half falls onto the floor. She's definitely
drunk. I'm still sober enough that wearing the stupid thing seems
like a bad idea.

"You should wear it for Alex. I'm sure he'd love it. Not that he
needs to see you in something like that to get all excited about
you..."

Not this again. Roseanne seems to have developed some sort of
fixation on my sex life, or lack thereof. It seems like every time I
talk to her lately she makes some thinly veiled reference to Krycek's
so-called desire for me. Now that she's drunk I guess she's dropped
all the preamble and cut right to the chase. Honestly though, I don't
know where the hell she's getting this from. It's ridiculous. I've
become convinced that she's delusional and projecting whatever
unresolved issues they have between them onto me.

"Roseanne, you're really gone." More gone than me. I enviously
take a large swig from the bottle. 

"No, Dana, come on. You can't tell me you don't see the way he
looks at you at the meetings and stuff. The man needs a fucking bib
for his drool."

"You're insane."

"You're insane if you don't see it."

"Maybe he's not drooling over me."

"Yeah, maybe it's Bryan."

"Shut up you idiot. I'm talking about you. I mean, didn't you..."

God, I must be a little tipsy to even consider asking her this. I've
been wondering and had my suspicions for almost a year now but
I've never been brazen enough to just come out and pry into her
personal business like that. Then again, she's not exactly being
subtle tonight.

"Didn't I what? Fuck him?"

Okay. Subtlety is definitely not an issue.

"Uh, well, yeah."

"Yeah I fucked him. So what does that prove. He doesn't want me
anymore. He never really did anyway."

She sounds...amused. I was expecting bitterness when this topic
finally rolled around but she seems to think the whole thing is
funny. Or maybe she's like Mulder, laughing to cover the pain. I
don't think so though. 

"So um...so what, I mean..."

God, what is my problem? Either ask her or don't. I don't know
why I'm so curious anyway. This whole evening is rapidly
degenerating into a seventh grader's slumber party. 

"What do you wanna know, Dana? I'll tell you anything you want
but it's kind of irrelevant at this point."

What do I want to know? Lots of things. Too many things. 

"You wanna know all the gory details?"

"Wha...no, NO! God, Roseanne. Of course not. Just...well, what
happened?"

She shrugs and makes a strange, disgusted face.

"Who knows. I dunno Dana. We were pretty hot and heavy for a
little bit. A bright flame that burned quickly. I guess we just ran out
of heat or something. It was like one day he was boinking me in a
closet and the next he was just...not. I guess he just lost interest."

Boinking her in a closet? I don't even wanna know. This is wrong
anyway. I shouldn't be prying her for information when she's
inebriated. 

"Just randomly?"

"He just said he thought we should stop."

"He didn't give you a reason?"

"Honestly, I think he's just afraid to get too close. To anybody. If
he gets close then he's vulnerable and Alex Krycek doesn't do
vulnerable. But of course he needs sex so he just sort of roams
aimlessly from one lover to the next. Well, that's what he used to
do. Now he just jacks off I suppose..."

Afraid to get too close. That sounds frighteningly familiar. I wonder
if I'll ever stop hating myself for not letting Mulder in when I had
the chance. I let him get closer than anyone else in the world ever
has or probably ever will but, God, it wasn't close enough. I feel a
maudlin mood creeping in through the alcohol laden giddiness and
run my hands over my face, trying to banish it. Then I realize
Roseanne is still talking.

"...wasn't love though. I didn't love him and he didn't love me. We
were friends really. Still are. I don't think I was ever stupid enough
to kid myself into believing it could be anything more. Before you
came I didn't think he was even capable of any kind of deep feelings
for another person."

What is she talking about now? Deep feelings? Krycek doesn't have
deep feelings for me. Mulder...Oh Mulder. Even after all this time,
almost three years now, it's like you're still here. Inside me. It's as if
our feelings were strong enough to keep some part of you alive.
What *would* you think of all this? I try to use your judgment as
well as my own but there are some things I can't possibly judge
your reaction to.

"Dana? What are you thinking about?"

God, how long have I been zoning out? Sometimes it still happens.
I get wrapped up in my blanket of melancholy and regression and I
lose time.

"I...I dunno. I guess how strange this all is. How different from the
way it was..."

"The way what was?"

"We used to be enemies. I wanted to kill him, Roseanne. He was
hired to *kill* me and he...and Mulder...it's just all very strange."

"Things change under desperate situations."

Hasn't my life always been one desperate situation after another?

"And he's changed too, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know Roseanne. I didn't know him at all before. All I
knew of him was what he did, the things he'd done to me. And to
Mulder..."

"Dana, in this life, in this time, I don't think that stuff counts for
shit. It's a brave new world out there, ya know. And we're all in the
same fucked up boat. What you've gotta ask yourself is what you
think of him right here, right now, regardless of all the rest."

Was that a question?

I take a swig from the bottle and try to formulate an answer in my
head. 

"Well, I think he's...he's a very good leader. Very determined and
ruthless and that's necessary here. I think the things that made him a
good criminal are serving him well..."

"DANA! I don't mean as a leader. I mean as a person. As a man."

Oh.

"I...I don't know Roseanne. He's done a lot for me. More than I
ever expected. And I guess...um...he's very brave."

So brave that he's almost gotten killed more times than I care to
count. 

"Yeah, and..."

"And what, Roseanne?"

She rolls her eyes and looks at me like I'm some kind of mental
defect. 

"Dana, don't you think he's sexy?"

Sexy? God, this is going downhill fast.

"Well, he certainly seems to think so."

"Yeah well, that's one thing we never argued about."

"Roseanne, you seem like such an intelligent, strong woman. How
could you let yourself be seduced by that...that..."

Pig? Womanizer? Ego-maniac? 

"He's really good in bed Dana."

She snorts at the way I choke on my sip.

"Sorry, you didn't ask me that did you. Just thought it might be of
interest."

Why in the world would it be of interest to me? God, *what* is she
thinking? 

"He wants you bad, Dana. I'm telling you..."

"If he does it's probably because there's no one else left. I'm the
only woman in this place he hasn't fucked."

"Well, he never used to mind repeat performances. Before you got
here he had a few favorites he used to kind of alternate between
and..."

"God, what a fucking PIG!"

I'm not sure if it's the alcohol or what but this is really starting to
piss me off. It's not like I didn't already know but this is just too
much information. 

"Yeah, he was. But God, Dana. God. He really is fucking amazing.
It's like...it's like there's nothing else in the world but you and him
fucking. He's so passionate, you just get like, knocked over by it.
Like being caught up in a hurricane or something.  I guess cause it's
really his only release, escape or whatever. Maybe that's why he's
been even more fucking uptight since you got here. He needs to get
laid really bad, Dana."

Please stop talking now. This was a terrible idea. I do not want to
know about this. 

"Do you know we never did it in his bed. Never. Not even once. He
said he hated having sex in beds. What the fuck is that about? He
hardly ever even took off his clothes! God, it was so good though.
Do you know that if you lick him behind the ear he like, growls?"

"No I didn't know that. Nor do I care."

"And when he comes he..."

"Roseanne! God. I don't CARE. He's a pig. A pig pig pig. Piggy
pig. Stupid, conceited, overbearing...PIG!"

Great, now she's really laughing. So hard that her face is turning red
and she's stomping her feet. I think she's about to fall down. When
she finally regains her composure she points accusingly at me. 

"You're a piece of work, Dana. You think..." she giggles again and
grabs the bottle from my clutches. She almost frowns when she sees
that it's almost empty. "You think you could turn him down? Is that
what you think?"

"I don't think I have to worry about..."

"Put on the shirt, Dana."

"What?!"

"Put it on and go to see him and see what he does. And see what
you do. I'll bet you a pack of cigarettes you end up fucking him."

Cigarettes? How does she get this shit? I wish I had her
connections.

"I'm not putting this stupid thing on. Look at it. It's made for an 18
year old with fake breasts."

"What are you, scared?"

"Why the hell would I be scared?"

"Cause it might make you feel like a woman and then you'd have to
admit that you are one and that you wanna get fucked."

"Fine. Whatever. I'll put on the stupid shirt!"

I yank my sweater and bra off and toss them onto the floor and pull
the stupid thing over my head to the sound of Roseanne's incessant
giggling.

"There. You happy now?"

"Fix your left boob," she chokes out through her hysterics. I look
down and realize it's hanging out the top. The sight of it is enough
to get through my little fit and I start laughing too. Could I be any
more ridiculous?

We must both be trashed if we think this is in any way amusing. A
scrawny red head in a slutty shirt. What a riot. But for some reason,
it is. Maybe we just need to laugh at something. I no longer care
about the fact that we're acting like a couple of teenagers. It feels
so nice to just let go for a change. 

God, it's been ages since I laughed. Years I think. And laugh we do.
For a long time. Until we hear a very loud and insistent pounding
on the door. Before I can get myself off the bed to answer, it bursts
open to reveal a very angry looking individual. For a minute I'm
scared. Then I realize it's Krycek, just standing there like an idiot,
panting and gaping at us and I start laughing again.

xxxxxx

To say that this is not what I expected to find would be a vast
understatement. First of all, when I came down here looking for
Scully to talk about the meeting tomorrow, I expected Bryan to be
sitting outside her door like he usually does. He wasn't. I expected
to hear, well, silence I guess behind Scully's door. I heard what
sounded like a couple of women screaming. I don't know what I
expected when I broke down the door but it sure as hell *wasn't*
this. 

Scully's sprawled out on the bed, her back slumped against the wall
and her hands clutching her stomach as the rest of her body
trembles in giddy hysterics. She's wearing a pair of close fitting,
worn out jeans and...I don't even know what to call that shirt. All I
know is it's damn tight and her tits are busting out the top and
jiggling as she laughs. I swear to God, if it were just an inch lower
cut her fucking nipples would be poking out. Her face is flushed
and her hair is a mess and did I mention the fact that she's
*laughing*? I don't know if I've ever seen her laughing like this. 

I look down and notice Roseanne for the first time, hunched over
somewhere near my feet, in her own little delirious fit. Then I see
the empty bottle. Jesus Christ. They've been fucking drinking? 

What the hell is going on? 

I'm starting to feel extremely awkward. Almost as if I've interrupted
some kind of dyke love fest or something. Roseanne's almost as
much of a slut as I am so it wouldn't surprise me if she was trying
to seduce Scully. Would it work, I wonder? Would they let me
join? Watch at least? 

Goddammit. This is serious. They're fucking wasted. 

"You guys are fucking drunk!"

"Not fucking, Alex. Just drunk," Roseanne tells me between her
guffaws. 

"This isn't funny. Where the hell is Bryan?"

"I told him to go to bed," Scully says, wiping the tears of joy from
her eyes. 

"You did what? What the hell are you guys thinking?"

I'm starting to yell now and they finally seem to be calming down
enough to listen to me.

"We're just trying to have some fun, Alex. God, go take your meds
or something."

"Roseanne, get lost." 

"Excuse me?"

 I reach down and haul her up by the arm and she stumbles in her
attempt to pull away. 

"I said, get lost. Go away. Now."

"Boy, Alex. You really do need to get laid. I'll leave you two alone
then."

She stands on her toes to give me an irritating kiss on the cheek and
practically falls out the door. 

"Don't hit your ass on the way out!" I yell after her, slamming the
now slightly broken door behind her. 

I turn back to Scully who is no longer laughing. 

"What the hell IS your problem, Krycek?"

"My problem? What's your problem, Scully? Jesus Christ! It's the
middle of the night and you're sitting here getting fucked up and
there's no one around to help you..."

"Roseanne was here."

"Roseanne's even more wasted than you! And she's no fucking help,
Scully! What if...what if something happened? What the hell did
you think you were doing sending Bryan away like that?"

"All right. That's enough."

She stands up and her legs wobble a bit. I can tell she's getting as
mad as I am though. She points her finger in my face and starts
shouting.

"First of all, you have NO RIGHT to come in here and tell my
friend what to do. Second of all, Bryan is MY bodyguard and I can
tell him to go to bed if I want to. I can't live with him hanging over
my shoulder every goddamn minute. Third of all, I can take care of
myself. Fourth of all, I CANNOT live like a fucking prisoner here,
Krycek!"

I know she's right but how the hell am I supposed to listen to this
tirade when I can't get my eyes off her goddamn chest?

"Scully, put a fucking sweater on for Christ's sake. What the hell
are you wearing anyway?"

"And fifth of all, who the hell are YOU to tell ME what to wear??
You're not my fucking father and I'm not your goddamn little girl!"

She's right. Of course she's right. But how the hell am I supposed to
sleep at night thinking she's getting wasted all by herself when
anyone could just come in and take her, hurt her? 

"This is not about some power trip of mine, Scully."

"Well then what the hell is it about?"

"It's about your safety."

She snorts and rolls her eyes.

"There is no such thing as safety, Krycek. And what good is it
anyway if you don't enjoy your life? Christ, you DO need to lighten
up. You're worse than..."

Her eyes drop and she looks suddenly very sad. Worse than
Mulder. The other man who protected her with a desperation
bordering on psychosis. Well, he did a pretty good fucking job.
Christ, she's still here. After everything. 

"I enjoy life sometimes, Scully."

"When?" she asks, looking at me accusingly again. 

Well, when I was getting laid I did. 

"I dunno, sometimes..."

"Krycek, I have never seen you enjoying life, enjoying
ANYTHING. You walk around with this fucking grim expression
like you're constipated or something, you never laugh, you never
talk about anything except running this place..."

"Scully, I don't have TIME for anything else. Running this place is
my entire life." 

God, is this really what she thinks of me? That I'm some kind of
dud? What the hell does she expect me to do?

"I know, and you're very good at it but don't you miss doing other
things?"

"Of course I miss doing other things. Everyone misses doing other
things. I thought that's what we were fighting for. The freedom to
do whatever the hell we want."

"But don't you ever want to do something just...just for the sake of
doing it?" 

I just shrug because I honestly don't know what the hell she's
talking about anymore. She sighs exaggeratedly and then opens up
one of her drawers and starts fishing through it.

"Scully..."

"Go put on a bathing suit."

"What?!"

"Go put on a bathing suit and meet me at the pool in ten minutes."

Man, she must be *really* fucking drunk.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"I dunno, Krycek. Just for the sake of doing it?"

She turns to me, bathing suit in hand and I don't know what the hell
to say to her. 

"Scully I don't really think..."

"Don't think. Just do it."

I guess I'd be a fool to turn down a chance at seeing her in a
bathing suit. 

xxxxxx

 end chapter 5





TITLE: World Without End: Book One (6/12)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton 


xxxxxx

I don't think I've actually ever been to the pool. I go to the gym to
work out when I can but I've only seen the pool from above.
There's a track that kind of winds around a surrounding balcony
where I run sometimes. The water has always looked inviting.

 The whole thing was Scully's idea. When she got here it was just a
dried up, old, cement hole. But in one of the most surreal scenes
I've ever witnessed, she managed to charm and negotiate with the
ambassador from faceless land and sure enough he was bringing
some chlorine in his next supply load and she turned it back into a
first rate swimming pool. 

I used to love swimming. It's not really my thing anymore for
obvious reasons. It's a nice pool though. Especially now at night
with the water glowing from the light at the end.

When I get there Scully's already swimming. She doesn't notice me
as she laps back and forth at a leisurely pace and I don't say
anything. 

I had to do some serious digging to even find a fucking bathing suit.
I found a pair of black, knee length shorts that I figured would
suffice and threw them on along with a long sleeved shirt and my
sneakers and came down here not knowing what to expect. Did she
really think I was gonna dive in and start doing laps with her?

I kick off my shoes and sit on the side of the pool, dunking my feet
in the surprisingly warm water. It feels almost like a bath. The wall
on the other side is almost all glass and I can make out the
bleachers outside where I guess people used to watch football
games once upon a time. Scully's much more interesting.

She swims really well. She's in a black one piece and her hair fans
out behind her as she moves in the water. She looks like some kind
of mermaid or something. Totally gorgeous. 

I just sit there watching her go back and forth about five times until
she finally stops by the steps and stands up. She jumps when she
sees me sitting there.

"Did you think I wouldn't show?"

"No, I just...I didn't hear you."

"It's probably not the best idea to swim when you're drunk. Not to
be bossy or overbearing or anything."

"I'm not drunk. I was just a little tipsy. Roseanne drank almost the
whole bottle herself."

Well, that figures. 

Her bathing suit has a really high neck. It's one of those athletic
type things with a white racing stripe down the side and a zipper
from the middle of her cleavage up to her neck. For some reason
it's even sexier than actually seeing her breasts like before. Just one
flick of the wrist is all it would take...

"So, are you just gonna sit there or are you going to join me?"

"I'm fine here, Scully. I don't...I don't really swim."

"How come?"

She looks at me curiously for a minute and then sudden realization
dawns and she looks terribly guilty. 

"Oh, God, of course. I'm such an idiot..."

No, Scully. Please don't feel guilty. Please don't feel bad for me.
Please, please don't regret asking me to do this. 

"Sometimes I forget. I mean it's...it's just that you've done so much
more than...oh God. I'm *such* a moron. Please tell me to shut
up."

She sits down on the stairs and puts her elbows on her knees and
her face in her hands.

"No, what were you going to say?"

She laughs through her nose and shakes her head.

"I remember one time, Mulder told me he wished he had a peg leg.
Or hooks for hands."

"Excuse me?"

That does sound like something the idiot would have said actually.

"He said if you had those things that maybe people wouldn't expect
so much. That it would be enough, impressive even, just to
survive."

She laughs again at the memory and I can tell it's a fond one for
some bizarre reason.

"He was just being silly but it's just, you've done so much more than
survive, Krycek. I just forget sometimes."

I feel my head and my heart swell to about three times their normal
size like the Grinch in that stupid movie and I smile back at her. I
guess by Mulder's twisted standards I'm a fucking super hero. Of
course, she's wrong. I haven't done much more than survive. That's
all this is really, desperately clawing for survival. 

"Well, anyway, you don't have to swim to get in the pool, Krycek.
Just come in and get wet."

"I really can't, Scully," I tell her, lifting the prosthetic for emphasis.
"This thing is electrical and it's not a good idea to submerge it in
water. Especially since I don't see as how I'll be able to replace it
anytime soon. I'm trying to treat it as well as I can."

"So take it off," she suggests. As if this were the easiest thing in the
world. 

"Um...Scully, I don't really..."

"Come on, it's just us here."

Yeah, and that's exactly the problem you crazy little girl. Oops,
sorry. Not a little girl. Woman. Womyn. Whatever the hell she
wants to be called. Anyway Scully is about the last person in the
world I want to show any weakness to. And this is the biggest
weakness I've got. 

Besides the fact that it's just plain ugly. I can't bear the thought of
her thinking any part of me is physically ugly. Emotionally, fine. I'm
used to that. But I guess I'm just vain when it comes to my
appearance. Maybe someday, if I live long enough, I'll be a crazy
old man, deriving glee out of frightening small children with my
freakish stump but right now, I'm just not there yet. Especially not
with her. I want her to think I'm as beautiful as I think she is. 

"Come on, Krycek. Don't be a big baby. Just take it off and get in
here. It feels really good." 

"A what? A baby??"

Okay, she knows what buttons to push. God, the fact that she
managed to get me down here is something in itself. I guess I might
look even stupider if I just sit here watching her all night. 

She shrugs and smirks and I start unbuttoning my shirt. 

"You smile now. You're gonna be sorry. This thing ain't pretty," I
warn her, trying to prepare her for the worst. She starts swimming
around again and it makes me a little more comfortable to think
she's not just gonna sit there staring while I do this. 

"Can't be worse than yer face," she jokes, splashing water on me
with her foot as she swims by. 

"You're a riot." 

I get the shirt off and start the always irritating process of removing
the prosthesis. At least I won't have to bother with it when I'm
ready to go to sleep tonight. Scully starts doing laps again which is
just as well. 

When I finally get the stupid thing off I slide down into the water
and she's right. It does feel really good. Just like a bath. Except
better cause Scully's here. She swims up to me and stands up a few
feet in front of me. The water comes up to the top of her breasts
but it only covers me from the stomach down. 

"Nice, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah it is."

"Do you ever feel it?"

I just look at her for a second before I realize what she's talking
about.

"Um, sometimes I guess. Not as much as when it first happened but
yeah, once in awhile I feel like it's still there."

She nods and runs her hand back and forth through the water,
watching the trails under the surface.

"I think I know what you mean. Sometimes I still feel him there. I
think it's kind of similar." 

Mulder. I never really thought about it that way. I guess he was
kind of like an arm to her. Something that's just...just there,
intrinsically a part of you and when it's gone you're never quite the
same. It always feels like something vital is missing.

"Oh, wait. I've gotta show you something."

She swims to the steps and gets out of the pool and for a brief,
bizarre moment I'm sure she's gonna take off her suit. Yeah, show
me your stump and I'll show you my tits. Doesn't seem like a fair
trade but what the hell. 

Then she goes to the wall and flicks a switch that makes all the
lights in the place except the one in the pool go off. It makes it
much easier to see out the window and it almost feels like we're
outside. But it's not really anything great. I wonder if she turned
them off so she wouldn't have to look too closely at me. 

Then she comes back to the pool and points up. I look towards the
ceiling and realize for the first time that it's made of glass too. I
must have known that but I never actually looked. The way it's set
up when you look up you can't see anything but the stars. It's
somewhat breathtaking. If you're into stars. 

I look back at her, still convinced that she's the most impressive
sight to be seen in this place. She's looking at the sky with a sense
of wonder that I just don't understand even though it's quite
beautiful on her.

"Pretty. Hard to believe such evil could come from the stars," I say,
rather stupidly. Way to prove the woman's point. Maybe I am a
drag. 

"It's not the stars' fault Alex," she murmurs and I swallow heavily at
her use of my first name. It's rare for her to call me that. It's usually
"Krycek," harsh syllables uttered in a way that almost unavoidably
sounds disgusted no matter who is saying it. I've always hated that
stupid name. But Alex, Alex isn't so bad. Alex isn't necessarily a
bastard.

"I know. It's just hard to look up with any kind of wonder or
curiosity at this point. All I feel is disgust and a nauseating fear of
what could be coming next."

"Don't you see any hope in them?" she asks, looking back at me
again. "I mean, the universe is so big. They're not all that there is.
This is all so insignificant really. There's so much more that's out
there, so much more potential..."

This from our former skeptic in residence. I guess there's no
denying it anymore. Things really have changed.

"I see more hope in what's right in front of me. In the fact that we're
still here. You and me. I think that's a little more impressive."

She laughs lightly and looks at me in disbelief.

"You would think that wouldn't you?"    

"It's not an ego thing."

"No, I know. It's just, you're so...I dunno, Earth-bound. So...I don't
know. I mean there are things in life that aren't as tangible as all
that. I mean, there's more to life than just eating, breathing,
sleeping, surviving."

"Yeah there is. You left out the most important one, Scully." 

She rolls her eyes. Miss philosopher. I suppose I'm some kind of
philistine because I don't sit around pondering this crap like Mulder
used to. 

"Even with that," she says,  "there's an element of it that goes
beyond the physical, the biological."

"Oh really? What's that?

"Well, hopefully the mutual respect, love and affection you share
with the other person."

"Mmm, hopefully. How often is it really about that though?"

And how the hell did we start talking about sex anyway? 

"Well, probably not often enough. But it's always more than
physical. No matter what. Ninety percent of sex is mental."

"Oh, ninety percent huh? Where'd you get that factoid, Doc?"

"God, you are such a little fucker. Don't you see any truth in what
I'm saying? Can't you relate to any of it?"

"I dunno, Scully. I guess we just have had different experiences. I
mean you've actually been..."

Been what? God, I don't even know if she and Mulder ever really
got around to having sex. It doesn't really matter though. They
were lovers. There's no question about that.

"Been?"

"Well, you've been in love, Scully. You've had that mutual respect,
affection crap."

"Crap??"

"Stuff. Whatever."

"Boy, you're a real piece of work, Alex Krycek." 

Me? I'm not the one getting all mooney eyed from looking at the
stupid stars.

"All I'm saying is I guess I don't really know what you're talking
about."

"You do. I really think you do. You just don't want to. What are
you so afraid of, Alex?" she asks, moving a little closer to me. Oh
God. What is happening here. My heart is racing and I'm actually
starting to sweat even though I'm submerged in lukewarm water. 

"Afraid? I'm not afraid. I just think it's better this way. I...I can't
afford those kinds of feelings."

"God, Alex, those feelings are the *only* thing worth living for. I
know how you feel because I was there. And I threw away the
chance of a lifetime. It's not worth it. You should always take the
chance. Take the chance, Alex."

She's even closer now. Does she want me to kiss her?? Is that what
she's saying to me right now? It really feels like one of those
moments but it's just...am I scared? I don't even know anymore.
She confuses the fuck out of me.

"I've never really known anybody who I thought was worth it
before, Dana." 

"Well, maybe the love of your life is right around the corner. Could
be someone you'd never suspect. Hey, it could be Bryan."

"That is so not funny."

"Oh, it's very funny. In fact the image is so hilarious I can't even
stand it."

She starts giggling and my almost psychotic urge to kiss her goes
away a little bit so I grab her head and dunk her instead. When she
comes up she's spitting and splashing and miraculously, still
laughing. We have a little bit of a water fight, splashing and
dunking and laughing like a couple of 8 year olds and I think I
finally understand what she means by doing something just for the
sake of doing it. Is this what fun feels like? It's been so fucking
long. 

Unfortunately all this horsing around with a half naked, wet Dana
has left me in an embarrassingly aroused state. When we finally
calm down she tells me she's leaving. 

"It's not that late, Dana."

"Well, we've got a meeting at 6:30 am sharp."

"Oh, right. Whose idiot idea was that anyway?"

"Your call, Captain."

"Well, next time I come up with a moronic notion like that, smack
me upside the head."

"Done and done."

She starts walking up the stairs and turns back to me.

"Do you uh...do you need any help?"

Help? Yeah I need some help. I need some help jerking off tonight,
Dana.

"No, I'm fine. I'm actually gonna stay a little while." 

"Oh, okay. I'll get one of the guards to walk me back. I'll meet you
at 6 for coffee and we can walk down together."

"Right. Be careful."

She starts toweling herself off and putting her clothes back on and I
feel like I should really thank her but I don't even know how to
begin.

"Uh, Dana..."

"Hmm?"

"Thanks. For tonight. This was...this was really nice."

There ya go. Wasn't so hard. And she's smiling again all sweet and
sugary.

"Yeah it was. We should do it again. It could be um, our thing."

Our thing? We have a thing. I like that. 

"I'd love that."

"Okay, I'll see you in the morning. Sweet dreams."

Man, she doesn't know the half of it.

xxxxxx

When I make it back to my room I'm still fucking hard. It's a
miracle of modern science. I don't know what the hell she just did
to me or what the fuck they're putting in that water but I've never
been so horny in my entire life. 

I shed my clothes quickly and collapse into my large and suddenly
very empty feeling bed in the dark. I don't even really feel like
jerking off. I'm so fucking sick and tired of it. But it's gotta be done.
It's like having to pee. If I don't do it, I'm gonna be awake all night
having to do it and I'm going to get more and more tired and
unwilling to do it and 5:30 will roll around and I'll still be sitting
here hard as a rock and probably having to pee by then as well. 

I don't usually have fantasies. I guess that's kind of strange for a
guy. From what I've gathered most men have an elaborate
collection of scenarios they like to play out in their mind as they
touch themselves. Maybe I just have no imagination. I usually just
think about things I've actually done. Sometimes I don't think
anything sexual at all. Sometimes I plan meetings while I do it.
Sometimes I think about being in battle. Sometimes I think about
arguing with Scully. Sometimes I don't think about anything at all,
just the way my dick feels in my hand. I just concentrate on the
sensations and use the moments to clear my head entirely. Fantasy
has always seemed like a waste of precious time. 

Tonight is different. Tonight I went swimming for no reason at all
and looked at the stars and talked about love, of all things, with
Dana Scully. Tonight I give myself a fantasy.

As I take myself in my hand I go with the first image that pops into
my head. Dana and Roseanne. Going down on each other on the
floor of the lab. Maybe I was supposed to have a preamble or
something but that works pretty well for me. I close my eyes and I
can almost see it. God, it would be a beautiful sight. 

I can't see Dana's face though so I put her on her back with
Roseanne going down on her and Dana just looking at me, wide
eyed, biting her lip as she gets closer and closer to orgasm. Her hair
falls over her breasts and on the floor and her hands tangle in
Roseanne's curly brown locks between her legs. 

Yeah, this is definitely working. I'm close already. 

But as I let myself relax into the fantasy, my mind changes it,
almost against my will. And suddenly it's me going down on her.
Here. In this bed. 

I've never had sex with a woman in this bed. Not once. Women are
like cats. Once you let them in the window and give them milk, they
never go away. I never wanted a woman to stay here, to spend the
night. But I don't have the heart to kick them out into the cold
either. So I fuck where I can and leave when it's over. If it's their
bed, it's my choice. Usually I don't even take that risk though. 

But tonight, in my head, I bring Dana Scully to my bed, and I lick
her senseless and make her come. She cries my name and then she
falls asleep. She falls asleep in my bed, in my embrace.

The force and sheer pleasure of my sudden, unexpected orgasm
makes me actually jerk into my hand and moan. I never moan when
I masturbate. And I didn't even grab a tissue so now my stomach is
covered with my own semen. And I don't even care.

"Dana..." I whisper into the dark. Not surprisingly, no one answers
me. 

xxxxxx

end chapter 6