AUTHOR: Eve (alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com)
PAIRING: K/Sc.....you were expecting something else?
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: Apocrypha
DISCLAIMERS: not mine, blah, blah
NOTES: 'Astrology for Dummies' is a real book which I've never read, so I just got info from http://www.elore.com/Astrology/Study/ Also, this was a challenge given to me, so I'll put the requirements at the end of the story. The title is a song by Sting. The song has nothing to do with the story, it was just my underhanded way of meeting one of the challenge requirements.
SUMMARY: Scully's on her way to a baby shower when a flat tire and a storm leave her stranded. Guess who's living close by?
THANKS: to Boltonia and Carrie for getting me over the hump in the middle. You guys rock!
DEDICATION: to my girl Rachelle! Happy Birthday, and sorry this is late, but you did give me to the end of the month!The challenge can be found at the end of the story, but before we get to that, I have to tell you a freaky story that shows just how connected me and Rachelle are. I picked that particular Sting song as my title because I saw it and it just clicked. Well, what I didn't know was that while Rachelle was writing up the challenge for me, she was listening to and being inspired by that exact song. Crazy, huh? ::grin::
Dana Scully turned the windshield wipers to their fastest setting and squinted through the glass. The drizzle that had started as she drove out of San Diego was now a full-fledged rain storm. As long as frogs didn't start falling from the sky, she wouldn't worry about it too much. She was going to be late, but that didn't bother her either. She was driving north up the California coast, headed to a baby shower for her cousin Ellie, who she hadn't seen in at least two years. How had her mother guilted her into this?
She gripped the wheel tighter as the car jumped and the veered into the oncoming lane. There was a barely audible pop as the front tire blew out. She fought for control on the rain slicked road, but the remaining three tires began to hydroplane, and the car swung sideways. She let out a startled yell before clenching her jaw shut. Come on, Dana. You've faced worse than a slippery road. Liver eating men, alien fetuses, homicidal insects. After a few white-knuckled seconds the car began to respond, and she pulled over to the shoulder.
"Sonofabitch!" she shouted at the empty interior, followed by a string of curses that she'd never utter in front of Mulder. Growing up as a navy brat did teach one an interesting vocabulary.
This was just fantastic. A flat tire in a rainstorm. She fished her cell phone out of her purse to call Triple A and watched the signal flutter between one and zero. That wasn't even strong enough for her to be able to make a call. Stupid storm. Stupid rental car. Stupid baby shower. Stupid phone.
She turned off the engine and sighed. With the wipers off, the outside world dissolved into a hazy mess. It almost felt like being underwater. The glow from the headlights only reached a foot or two into the storm, so she turned them off as well and let out another long suffering sigh. Change the tire, or go for help. She was going to have to get out of the car one way or another. And God forbid if she couldn't take care of herself.
Scully popped the trunk and scrambled out of the car, uselessly putting up her arm in defense of the rain. She was soaked to the bone before she reached into the trunk for the jack and the lugwrench. Continually wiping the water out of her face, she managed to pry off the hubcap, but no matter how hard she pushed and pulled, she couldn't get the nuts loosened. With a frustrated growl she stood and leaned against the car. First one foot, then two landed on the handle of the wrench. She bounced experimentally, but nothing happened. Who tightened these stupid bolts? He-Man? The Incredible Hulk? She jumped a little, but still the nut refused to move. She spent all these years keeping herself fit, and if she was fat and lazy she'd be able to change the damn tire.
Lightning flashed nearby, startling her. She wobbled for a second before losing her balance and landing painfully on the side of the road. She took a second to catch her breath, deciding that she wasn't hurt, other than the stinging in her right hand. The blood that dripped down her arm was quickly washed away by the rain, but there was no debris in the cut that ran across the base of her palm. She made a mental note to schedule a tetanus shot anyway.
She quelled the urge to kick the tire and crawled back into the car, dripping all over everything. She reached over the seat to grab her bag, and pulled out the small first aid kit so she could bandage her hand. Looks like she'd have to go for help, unless she wanted to sit her until the storm let up, and who knows how long that would be. She remembered passing a house a few minutes back. She'd be able to call Triple A from there, let Ellie know why she wasn't going to make it, and dry off properly.
Shivering, Scully searched her bag for the heaviest piece of clothing, but seeing as she'd packed for California, the best she could find was a windbreaker. She toweled her hair with a t-shirt, then draped the jacket over her head, tying the sleeves under her chin. It wouldn't keep her dry, but it might protect her face a little.
Ten minutes later she was wishing she'd stayed in the car. But she was this far along, might as well keep going. The house couldn't be too far away. Gradually the rain began to let up until it seemed content to drizzle, so she took the opportunity to look at her hand. It was impossible to keep dry, so now the bandage was soggy and spots of red were beginning to show through.
Up ahead was a billboard, displaying an idyllic beach scene with barely-clothed models frolicking in the sand. "Have a California Adventure!" it proclaimed. "Visit Long Beach!" She frowned and narrowed her eyes at the advertisement. Sunny California her ass. As if to mock her, the rain grew heavier. She bowed her head and trudged on.
It was a full half hour before she spotted the house by the highway. There were a few lights burning, otherwise she would have missed it. She picked up her pace, and was soon jogging up the steps to the front door. The first hint that something wasn't right was that the door was slightly ajar. And she left her gun locked in the trunk of the car.
She pushed it open with her foot, and when no one jumped out at her, she stepped inside.
"Hello?" she called. "Is anyone here? I'm a federal agent. Hello?"
The door required a shove to get it to close properly, and then she ventured farther into the house. There was no sign of forced entry, no sign of a struggle. The foyer opened up into a large area that served as a living room and a kitchen. A *purple* living room and kitchen. All the furniture was either mauve or royal purple, and large matching throw pillows littered the floor. Several lava lamps added ambiance to the dim atmosphere. Beaded curtains hung over the windows, and one entire wall was filled with books and movies. The rest of the walls were covered with portraits of celebrities like Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Jimmy Hendrix. She glanced up at the high ceiling. It too, looked purple. It was like hippies and Barney the Dinosaur had thrown up all over the place. A pack of Virginia Slims rested on a low table, and she caught herself reaching for them. Now wasn't the time to pick up an old habit, no matter how miserable she was, no matter that they were her old brand. There was a short wall that marked off where the living room stopped and the kitchen began. It was giving off a soft glow, and as she neared, she realized that most of the wall was actually a fish tank.
They were beautiful fish, bright reds and deep purples darting around in their thin glass home. Suddenly there was larger movement on the other side and she jumped. God. There was someone in the house. She darted to the side, reaching for her ID.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk right in, but my car . . ."
The man facing her abruptly stopped toweling off his hair to stare at her. And whatever she was about say got lost somewhere in between forest green eyes and bare feet.
Oh. My. God. It looked like Alex Krycek, but it couldn't be. Because Alex Krycek was a thief, and a traitor, and probably a murderer as well. Alex Krycek was *not* lean and muscled with water droplets glistening on his chest. He did not have soft looking lips and legs that went on forever. He was not wearing an itty bitty towel around his waist and staring at her like she was one of Mulder's aliens. He was not. Maybe she'd fallen harder than she thought. Yes, that was it. She was hallucinating, and any second now her vision would vanish into thin air along with this god awful purple house and she'd wake up lying beside her car in the pouring rain. Any second now . . .
The Krycek-vision slowly lowered his arms and continued to stare at her, mouth hanging open. He swallowed once, and then those soft looking lips moved slightly, and a hoarse, "Scully?" reached her ears.
Visual hallucinations didn't make noises, did they? Because if they didn't, that meant that this was all very, very real, and oh my God Alex Krycek was standing in front of her. He really was.
"Don't move!" she shouted, scrambling for a gun that wasn't there. He realized her predicament and took a step forward. Shit. She needed a weapon. Something to subdue him while she tied him up and called the police. Without realizing she had moved, Scully felt the edge of the island countertop bite into the small of her back.
"Don't move!" she repeated, reaching back for something, anything, not daring to take her eyes off Krycek. Where was a good Ginsu when you needed one? Her hand closed around something smooth and solid and she brought her hand up, brandishing her newly found weapon.
"Alex Krycek, you are under arrest--"
His mouth quirked at the corner and then he actually laughed at her while she tried to read him his Miranda rights. And he couldn't stop laughing. He pointed at her, trying to say something, but gave up and just tried to keep from falling over. She quickly darted her eyes around to find out what was so funny, and got a look at what she was actually holding.
Oh shit. It was a vibrator. She was threatening a murder suspect with a vibrator. If her life wasn't in danger, it would be embarrassing. Krycek took another step toward her and their eyes met. She didn't have anything to defend herself with, and he had at least sixty pounds on her. Heart pounding, she flung the vibrator at him as hard as she could and then raced for the front door.
A warm hand closed around her arm but she managed to slide out of the grasp. Then a large body tackled her from behind and she sprawled face first into some of those throw pillows that were laying everywhere. She frantically tried to buck his weight off of her, tried to claw her way free, but there was nothing to grab onto. Her struggles turned her over on her back, and he tried to pin her arms over her head. Her skin and clothes were still soaked, and she slipped free. His thighs closed around hers so she couldn't move her legs, and she started pummeling his chest with blows. After a few curses he got a firm grip on her wrists. Still she twisted and squirmed for all she was worth.
"Stop that," he said.
"Get off me!"
"So you can run and get Mulder? I don't think so."
She bristled. "I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, I can see that."
"Fuck you, Krycek."
He leaned in dangerously close, close enough that she could feel his heavy breathing against her lips. "You don't kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?"
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