Krycek quickly lathered and rinsed his hair. He didn't do so well with enclosed spaces ever since . . . He shuddered. Just don't think about it. He wrapped a towel around his waist and was just reaching for another when he heard a faint noise from downstairs. Probably that stupid door. It was warped, and sometimes you needed a linebacker to get it to shut properly. He kept telling Rachelle to fix it--you never know what kind of wacko would just wander in. But she insisted that if the door was open, it was open for a reason. The door had been hanging open when he had arrived weeks ago, dirty, exhausted, and half starved. She called it a sign. He called it shoddy carpentry.

He padded downstairs, wondering if the power was going to stay on. It had been flickering earlier. He'd have to find a lighter and start on the candles that were scattered throughout the house. God knows he didn't want to be in the dark. Thirty two years old, Alex, and you're afraid of the dark. He snorted to himself. Assassin for hire. Prefers to work days. Will work after dark if a nightlight is provided.

Rachelle usually kept matches in the kitchen by the stove. He glanced around the living room, noting that the door was shut securely. He must have been hearing things. He started drying his hair and headed toward the kitchen. When a figure jumped out from the other side of the fish tank, he froze, thinking it was a burglar. That's it. He was fixing that damn door, and he was putting a dead bolt on it. As soon as he got out of this.

Which might be difficult, seeing as he was basically naked and unarmed and holy shit was that Dana Scully?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to walk right in, but my car . . ."

No way. No fucking way had Scully gotten stranded outside the house that he just happened to be staying at. It had to be a trap. Mulder was probably lurking outside with an entire SWAT team, just waiting for the chance to beat him senseless. But if this was a trap, why was she just standing there?

She was completely soaked, the material of her light clothing practically transparent. He swallowed as her nipples hardened under his gaze. Her hair was plastered to her cheeks and forehead, and her lips were red and swollen. The last time he'd seen her she'd been chubby and sporting an unflattering hair cut. Now she looked like a wet dream.

"Scully?" he blurted quietly. His voice was still a little raw. Two weeks of rest hadn't completely made up for two weeks spent screaming in the pit of a missile silo. At least, that's how long he figured he'd been down there. His voice seemed to rouse her from her stupor, because suddenly she was grabbing her side at yelling at him.

"Don't move!"

He quickly realized she was unarmed and stepped forward in a futile attempt to assure her that he wasn't going to harm her. Of course, she took his movement as a threat and backed farther into the kitchen, fumbling on the counter for something that would serve as a weapon. Rachelle didn't have knives laying around, so he figured he was fairly safe. But where was Mulder? Mulder and Scully came as a set. Not sold separately. He began to grow a little nervous and wished he'd at least put on some pants before coming downstairs. But if Mulder was just outside, Scully wouldn't be so scared. She'd be her calm, icy self. And then it dawned on him. She was alone. Alone and defenseless.

Her eyes gleamed triumphantly as she finally found something to use against him. She started to read his rights, but he stopped listening when he saw what was in her hand. Dana Scully was waving a vibrator at him. A purple vibrator. He tried to hold the laughter in, but one chuckle escaped, and after that he just couldn't stop. The look of confusion on her face was beyond worthy of a Kodak moment. He had to brace his hands on his thighs to keep upright. And then she glanced over at her impromptu weapon, eyes widening, lips falling open in an 'O' of surprise.

He finally got himself straightened up, and next thing he knew the vibrator was flying at his head. He ducked just in time to avoid a nasty bruise. Who knew she had such a good arm? Man killed by flying cock, he thought absurdly, then lurched after Scully. He wasn't entirely sure why he chased her. Basic instinct. Maybe he didn't want to be alone in Rachelle's house. But if she wanted to go for help, that would give him plenty of time to throw on some clothes and high tail it outta Dodge.

He caught her arm but the wet fabric slid right through his grasp. All right then. Time for plan B. He lunged, hoping to stop her flight by wrapping around her from behind. His foot caught on the edge of the oriental rug and they tumbled to the floor together. Scully fought like a wildcat until he finally had her arms and legs pinned. With annoying persistence she continued to struggle.

"Stop that." He could feel the towel at his waist loosening. It was a miracle it had stayed on at all. If Scully didn't stop squirming around she was going to get a view she probably wouldn't appreciate much in this situation.

"Get off me!" she cried, eyes starting to look panicked.

"So you can run and get Mulder? I don't think so."

Some of that fear turned into anger and indignation. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I can see that." That's why you're pinned under one of the FBI's most wanted. Tell me another one, Agent Scully.

"Fuck you, Krycek."

Wow. Scully had just cursed at him. He wondered exactly how far he could push her. This might even be fun. He leaned forward as far as he dared, watching her eyes go wide, feeling her body tense further. Praying that she wouldn't bite off his nose. "You don't kiss your mother with that mouth, do you?"

He had a few seconds to stare into her startled eyes before the lights flickered and then plunged them into darkness.