Oh God. I turn my head just enough to catch Krycek's mouth and he makes a startled noise that turns into a low moan as I brush my tongue against his lower lip. His mouth opens under mine and his tongue slides past my teeth. I can't believe I've got my tongue in Alex Krycek's mouth. He tastes like coffee and blueberries. Who needs a milkshake when I've got this?

I want to run my fingers through his too-short hair to see if it's as soft as it looks, but my hands won't release their white knuckled death-grip on the arms of the chair. I'm at once frustrated by, and grateful for, the fact that he's handcuffed. Frustrated because I think I'd like to feel his hands on my body, slipping around my waist, pulling me down into his lap, pressing me against him. Grateful because if he did all that, I'd go from Dana Scully FBI Agent to Dana Scully Wanton Hussy faster than you could say "it's been awhile". If I'm not there already.

This is the man that made love to my partner in order to gain his trust so he could betray him. That doesn't have so much impact as the thought of them together. When Krycek slants his lips over mine and his tongue does a wide sweep of my mouth I can imagine that's what he did to Mulder. Those quiet groans and mumbles he makes into my mouth are the same ones he made into Mulder's mouth. And the way he alternates between kissing my breath away and nibbling at my lips is the way he was with Mulder. It's so dirty. And I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life.

When I groan against his mouth he actually jumps a little. It's the first time I've made a noise and I'm forced back into reality enough to pull out of the kiss. His mouth keeps moving a little, and he leans forward to follow me but is stopped by his restraints. His eyes drift open and they're no longer the glittering green that I admired so much. They're black. His pupils are completely dilated except for the tiniest ring of dark green on the outside. Krycek's broad chest is heaving, and all the air leaves my lungs in a rush as I realize I've been holding my breath. I think that Alex Krycek looking at me like I'm the only woman on earth is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I can't taste anything but blueberries. I'll never look at them the same way again. I'll never look at Mulder the same way again.

God. Mulder! I've got to get out of here. I don't know how long I've been standing like this, staring into Krycek's face. When I pull back it's like a cold gust of wind blows by, and he blinks a few times looking dazed. I dart away to slip on my pumps and turn my back to him, collecting myself before I face Mulder. If I even look a little bit flustered, he'll assume the worst. And I know I'm flushed and breathless. Suddenly, I don't want Mulder to lay another finger on Krycek. Ever.

Krycek clears his throat, and I think he's going to say something so I take a few steps to the door and open it a crack. Mulder's not there. I open it wider and then step into the hallway. One of the officers glances over at me.

"Where's Agent Mulder?" I ask. He looks confused, so I elaborate. "Tall, angry man in an expensive suit?"

"Oh, he left a little while ago. Didn't say where he was going."

"He left?" I don't believe it.

"Yes ma'am. Is everything all right in there?"

Damn. I guess I'm not completely composed. It's almost a good thing that Mulder took off. Then again, it would serve him right. Guess what Mulder? Your precious partner just made out with a criminal. And she liked it. But Mulder isn't here. He took off. I. Don't. Believe. It. He ditched me. Again. Twice in one day. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I go back into the interview room, slamming the door behind me. What am I supposed to do with Krycek? I take a few steps toward him.

He doesn't look so relaxed anymore. Pensive. Angry, almost.

"He ditched you again, didn't he?"

I scowl at him. Of course that's what happened, but I'm not going to admit it. Anyway, he probably heard my conversation with the officer outside.

"God damn, that stupid sonofabitch!"

And before I know it, he's moving, and I feel a strong arm around my waist, another reaching inside my jacket to get my gun. This is the type of thing I have nightmares about. But my brain must be fogged because all I note is that there's a distinct bulge pressing against my back. Krycek nudges the barrel of the gun under my chin.

"Not a word now, Agent Scully. I've got to get out of here before Mulder gets himself killed . . ."

Does this mean that Krycek really is telling the truth about trying to protect Mulder? I think back to this morning, when I'd heard that Mulder had captured Krycek. He only gets caught because he wants to. I wonder how long he's had the handcuffs undone. The entire time? When I saw him squirming in the chair? During the kiss, when I was being less than attentive to anything but the feel of his mouth on mine? I've been centimeters away from a felon who could have reached up and broke my neck. He could have taken my gun at any time. He could have grabbed me and . . . The idea should terrify me, but it seems obvious that Krycek has no intention of harming me. His grip is more comfortable than confining, and the gun is only grazing my chin. I tilt my head back just in case, and feel his breath in my hair as he begins to mutter angrily.

"Stupid. I can't believe they think he's such a threat. If they only knew what a dumbass he was . . ."

All I can think about is the smell of leather and berries, and the feel of his body pressed against mine. He is as tall as Mulder, but quicker despite his broader frame. My brain goes off on another tangent, and suddenly I imagine that Krycek is pressed up against Mulder, running his hands over Mulder's lean frame. Mulder is mewling and arching his back and begging--

" . . . too short. You make a lousy hostage." Ah. So that's the master plan. My body relaxes further. I'm not concerned about the gun, since it seems that Krycek only wants to use me as a shield to make his escape. But I'd really rather not be a shield. Plus once I think about his plan, I realize how stupid it is. I guess I'm not the only one who isn't thinking clearly. And if there is some danger to Mulder, I'm gonna be there to stop it.

"Is Mulder really in trouble?"

"What? Yes. They don't want him investigating this case, and you know how he makes those incredible intuitive leaps with only shreds of evidence. If only you realized how right he is most of the time--"

I don't really want to hear that. Plus I'm getting impatient. "Give me my gun."

"What?"

"Give me my gun."

"So you can shoot me? You're crazy!"

"There's more than one way out of a police station you know."

As understanding sinks in his hold on me loosens and the gun drops. There are about thirty ways that I could disable him right now. And I know they work. I've used almost all of them since being assigned to the X-files. But unlike Mulder, I have no overwhelming desire to harm Krycek. When I turn to look at him, his hand remains on my waist. He stares at me for a beat, obviously trying to figure out if this is some sort of trick. Finally he hands the gun back.

I tilt my chin toward the chair. "Now put on the cuffs."

"Sounds kinky," he grins. "Who knew Dana Scully was into bondage?"

9:19 PM
Monument Police Station, New Mexico

I tell the boys at the Sheriff's office that I'm transferring the prisoner to a more secure facility for questioning. They crowd around as we walk out. Seems Krycek gave Mulder some trouble coming in. If they're so concerned for my safety, why didn't they check on me in the interrogation room? Krycek follows behind me docilely, like this golden retriever I had as a kid. Sparky. Krycek is slightly more obedient. If Skinner finds out about this I'm going to be in so much trouble. And I'm blaming it on Mulder.

I expect Krycek to demand the car keys, but he goes straight to the passenger side. Mulder always insists on driving, like I'm too fragile to work a car. He always jokes that my legs are too short to reach the pedals. I don't think it's that funny. Besides, the last time I checked cars come with moveable seats.

Wordlessly I hand Krycek my cellphone and his fingers brush mine as he takes it. The near-electric shock that zings up my arm and down into the pit of my belly makes me jump. I don't bother looking over. He's probably smirking at me, but the darkness makes it impossible to see his face anyway. For Mulder, I keep telling myself. This impromptu partnership has nothing to do with the fact that there's a denim covered thigh inches from my hand that I'd love to squeeze. I want to stop for a milkshake, but there's no place open at this time of night.

"He's not answering," he says, voice loud in the silence. When I don't take back the phone he places it on the seat between us. He tries a few more times as we search.

We find Mulder's car just outside of town, still running, door wide open. Krycek unfolds himself gracefully from the car and stretches for a minute. Here's your opportunity to run. There's nothing around us but wide open desert, providing no cover whatsoever, but I'd never catch him in these pumps. I could always shoot him to stop him, but it would be a shame to put a hole in that fabulous leather jacket. I reach under the seat for my flashlight, even though our headlights provide plenty of illumination, and trail behind him as he inspects the scene. Krycek examines the surrounding area, and points at two sets of very voluntary looking footprints on the shoulder of the road, leading off into the darkness. There are no signs of a struggle. He gives the Taurus the once over, finding the casefile under the driver's seat and a bag of sunflower seeds under the other. Mulder's cell phone is laying innocently in the passenger's seat. No wonder he didn't answer any calls. the first four numbers are, of course, from my phone. I see that he's programmed my number under 'Grandma'. I don't know whether to be amused or insulted. I check to see what other calls he received. I don't recognize any of the numbers.

Krycek has his long body half in the car when I hear his, "Got any protection, Dr. Scully?"

It's my turn to be taken aback. "What?"

He looks over his shoulder at me, teeth gleaming in the darkness. "Latex gloves? You'd be surprised what gets lost between the seats in these FBI issued vehicles." I shudder a little, not really wanting to know. "Two pairs, please."

Please? That's a word I never imagined coming out of Krycek's mouth. I get him the gloves and he slides them on with an efficient snap. His torso disappears into the backseat and he plunges his hand downward, immediately coming up with something small and shiny, and oh my God.

"You and Mulder have this car before?" he asks, tossing the foil packet at me. I'm glad that he can't see the blush that steals over my face. You'd think I've never seen a condom before. I stare at it in my hand, not quite sure what to do. I'm tempted to toss it away, but I don't want to let him know how uncomfortable I am. Krycek and a backseat and a condom. I try not to connect the dots. Especially since he's bent over directly in front of me. I shove the offending package in the pocket of my blazer.

After five minutes of staring at what I conclude is a very nice ass, I see Krycek has come up with some hairpins, kleenex, a mug shot of someone that I vaguely remember from a recent murder case on TV, a package of gum, and another latex glove. He's very thorough.

"You would have made a really good agent, Krycek."

He stiffens and pulls out of the car. It seems I've hit a nerve.

"I was a good agent," he says tersely. He takes his bounty back to my car and gets in, turning on the interior light.

Oh. Well, I guess I no longer have to wonder if Krycek's FBI credentials were forgeries. I wonder if he was in any of my classes at Quantico before I started work on the X-files.

I pop the trunk on Mulder's car and shine my flashlight into its depths. Completely empty. Mulder didn't even pack. Must have been an especially exciting--what? I realize I still don't know what the hell Mulder was doing out here in the first place because I forgot the damn casefile. I lock up Mulder's abandoned car and join Krycek, who's doing a passable imitation of a pout. I'm not sure this day can get any weirder. I guess I shouldn't have complained about being bored. I get sent to New Mexico, Mulder disappears, I'm driving through the desert with Alex Krycek of my own free will, and God help me, I want to kiss him again. I finally catch his eye.

"So what was Mulder doing out here anyway?" His eyebrows shoot up at my ignorance. I shrug. "I'm just the babysitter, remember?"

He smiles and lowers his lashes submissively as he passes me the casefile. Oh brother. Don't tell me I've got another leash to hold. I can barely handle Mulder as it is. I tear my eyes away from the sight of Krycek and focus on the file. Several full color pictures of animal carcasses jump out at me. Cow mutilations. Mulder ran out here for cow mutilations!?

I don't realize I've spoken out loud until Krycek says, "Yeah, but he caught a whiff of what was really going on."

I look at Krycek expectantly.

He turns off the interior light. "I think I know where Mulder's headed. I'll tell you on the way."

10:14 PM
Sonora Desert, New Mexico

So here I am, driving through the desert with Alex Krycek sitting shot gun. I can't tell north from south in the inky blackness, but he seems to know where we're going. Worry for Mulder keeps me alert, but everyonce in awhile I drift to the other side of the road. Krycek doesn't mention it.

"The cow mutilations were just a distraction. Something to occupy the townspeople and the local PD. They've been doing experiments on the local wildlife."

"They?"

"The Consortium."

"As in the people you work for?"

"Worked for, Agent Scully. An attempted car bombing convinced me to seek employment . . . elsewhere."

A thought strikes me. "You risked your life coming out here, didn't you? To look out for Mulder?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "Do you want to hear about the case or not?"

Hmm. Looks like I've hit nerve number two. I wait for him to continue.

"They've got a lab in the middle of nowhere. They steal the animals away and do their experiments, then return the mutilated bodies. They're perfecting the process using the simpler DNA from animals, working their way up to humans."

"What process? For what purpose?"

He pauses for a moment. "I can't tell you."

"This is what Mulder was on to? I thought you were helping him."

"Not helping--protecting. This is one of those things that will get him killed. I was trying to keep him away from it. Bad enough that I have to take you there, but if I tell you what's really going on and they find out you know, you're a dead woman."

He falls silent. I really don't know what to say. Now Krycek is trying to protect *me*. Nothing is black and white with this man. Is he good, or is he bad? Who's side is he on? What does he want with Mulder?

I'm startled out of my musings by the sound of the Beatles singing "A Hard Day's Night". Krycek quickly changes the station, pausing every once in awhile to listen to songs I don't know by bands I've never heard of. I think the newest CD I own was purchased when CD's first came out. I could tell you hundreds of ways to kill someone, but don't ask me about pop culture. A somewhat familiar guitar riff filters through the speakers and Krycek settles back in his seat, apparently satisfied. It takes the entire intro before I place the song. Hotel California.

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair,
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air.
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light,
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.

I chuckle at the opening lines and glance over at Krycek. He's bobbing his head ever so slightly, tapping out the rhythm on his knee. This song came out around '76, didn't it? The Eagles are even a little before my time. I only know the song because Bill had their albums. Krycek notices my glances in the window and turns to look at me.

"Don't tell me you don't like the Eagles."

I shake my head. "It's not that. Krycek, how old are you?"

"I don't want to give away all my secrets, now do I Dana?"

Damn. He called me Dana with that teasing glint in his eye. I suppress the shiver that threatens to run down my spine. If Mulder wasn't in trouble and I wasn't so damn tired I'd be tempted to stop the car and jump into the passenger seat. And it's a good thing that this road is deserted at this time of night, because I can't seem to keep my eyes on the road. And now it's a combination of fatigue and the long, long legs of my passenger. I school myself back into Special Agent Dana Scully mode, but that only lasts a few seconds because then Krycek begins to sing. Not loudly, but just enough that I can hear him over the radio.

Her mind is Tiffany twisted, she got the Mercedes Benz,
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys, that she called friends.
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat,
Some dance to remember; some dance to forget.

Alex Krycek is singing. In my car. He's crooning to the Eagles. Ok, so maybe crooning isn't quite the right word, but the whole situation suddenly becomes ridiculous. I burst out laughing.

Krycek scowls at me. He probably thinks I'm laughing at him. I'm not. Not really.

"What?" He looks highly insulted as he turns down the radio.

"Nothing," I manage to choke out as my laughter begins to abate. Then a tiny frown line appears on the bridge of his nose. He's pouting again--pursed lips, arms crossed over his chest. I burst into a fresh bout of giggles.

"Geez Krycek, I didn't know you were so sensitive."

The scowl turns into an outright glare, and then his face smoothes out. Uh-oh. This can't be good. Don't predators go completely still right before they pounce?

"Guess I'm still recovering from the second hottest kiss I've ever had."

I've never really known what people mean when they say their heart goes flip-flop, but I think mine just did. I ignore the thrill that most definitely originates in my pelvis and reply coolly, "Second?" If he says Mulder, I'll stop the car and kick him out.

"Becky Millar, in the tenth grade."

I'm a little insulted that he thinks a tenth grader kisses better than me. I'm also a little disoriented by the fact that Krycek had a childhood. He seems to be following my thoughts.

"You always remember your first kiss. She was this shy little girl who got straight A's and played the trumpet. One of my friends dared me to kiss her--we ended up making out like crazy under the bleachers. It's always the quiet ones," he finishes somewhat wistfully. Then he turns a grin on me. "I bet Mulder had you convinced that I was hatched fully-formed."

I wave my hand to dismiss it, even though that's exactly what Mulder said in one of his more colorful tirades. I can't help but say, "Still . . . second?"

Krycek chuckles. I can hear him moving but I don't dare look over. I've never been good at playing easy-to-get. He reaches out and brushes my hair behind my ear, exposing my neck. He leans over and whispers, "I'm sure we could think of a way to erase poor Becky Millar from my memory." His breath is warm against my skin, and still holds the faint scent of blueberries. My mouth begins to water again. What do I do? We're all alone now. There's no Mulder to come barging in.

"What do you think, Dana?"

God, I think you could make a living as a phone sex operator. I'd call. Without even realizing it, I've slowed down. Mulder, I try to think. Mulder's in danger. But I turn my head slightly and can see him staring at me from the corner of my eye. I lick my lips and his eyes are drawn instantly to the movement. That's how this whole thing started, isn't it?

From Krycek's pocket, my cellphone beings to chirp. I pull the car onto the shoulder. Without moving away he flips it open and leans toward me as he brings the phone to his ear. I clutch at my own thighs as his tongue touches my ear.

"Hello?" he rumbles around my earlobe. The phone is close enough to my ear that I can hear the caller clearly. Guess I was wrong about Mulder not being able to barge in. He must have incredible voice recognition.

"Hello? Krycek! You ratbastard sonofabitch--"

Krycek leans back and holds out the phone. "It's for you," he says with a sardonic smile.

I take the phone and just stare at it for a moment, listening to Mulder's incoherent squawking.

"Mulder." I don't sound quite as intimidating as I did in the interrogation room. Might have something to do with the fact that Krycek is suddenly running his lips lightly over my neck. I try to tell myself that he's just trying to listen in on the conversation. Then I try to tell myself that I want him to stop.

"Scully? Scully! What's going on? Why did Krycek answer your phone?"

"Because he had it in his pocket." That probably wasn't the wisest thing to say, but Mulder doesn't seem to notice.

"What? Are you all right? Has he done anything?"

"I'm fine Mulder," I say at the same time that Krycek murmurs against my skin, "No, but he's about to."

"Scully? What was that?"

Krycek begins tracing small circles over my right knee. He inches the hem of my skirt up and I catch my breath. Thank God I didn't wear pants today.

"N-nothing, Mulder. Where are you? You disappeared from the police station." I try to sound accusing, but it comes out sort of breathy as Krycek abandons my knee to run his hand over my leg, up my torso. I clamp my hand down over his before it reaches my breast and give him a dirty look.

"I'm in Lovington. I got an anonymous tip about some sort of government facility out in the desert, but it turned out to be nothing. Do you still have Krycek in custody?"

I finally turn all the way to look at him. Every few seconds his fingers flex under mine, and I can tell by the flaring of his nostrils that he's trying to control his breathing. "Yeah, he's in custody."

"Great. I'll head back and pick him up. I want that piece of scum in maximum security right away."

"No!" Ok. That came out a little too forcefully. Mulder's puzzled silence is all I hear on the other end. His anger seems so petty, now that I know its cause. He's a jilted lover.

"I mean, why don't you stay there and get some sleep. You've had a long day, so I'll deal with Krycek." Krycek eyes me speculatively and makes to lunge forward, but I stop him with a sharp shake of my head. Down boy. He settles back into the passenger seat, taking his wandering hand with him. He really is more obedient than Sparky.

"Scully, are you sure? I don't think that's such a good idea--"

"I can take care of myself, Mulder. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow." I hang up the phone before he can say another word. After a second's thought, I turn it off and toss it out the window. Mulder will probably call back a dozen times, and this way I can say that I really didn't get his calls.

"What did he find?" Krycek asks, grinning at my actions.

"Nothing. Looks like he's dropping the entire thing. Except for you, of course."

"You have to promise me you'll never tell him about it."

I open my mouth to protest, but he jumps back in. "I'm serious, Scully. Mulder's been given a lot of leeway, but this is one of those things that they can't afford to have exposed."

"All the more reason to investigate."

He shakes his head. "Believe me when I say that someone is working on it. Someone will exposes those bastards."

I shouldn't believe him, but I do. I get the feeling that the someone he's talking about is himself.

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