Blue Ice

And still the storm approaches
And there's nothing I can do
So I wait and watch and feel
His breath against my face.
Cool and brave. His salt licks
My skin. His promise brushes
My hair. His fury drives the
Wind to touch my cheek and
Whisper something I can't hear

I think he loves me.
I think he comes to see me.
I am young.
I will learn.
-Terry Moore, "Strangers in Paradise"

Sounds of vigorous splashing echoed softly through the apartment as Krycek moved steathily through the apartment. He stopped at the half-shaded window to watch as the sky screamed brightly in murderous rage, pelting its tears down on unsympathetic Georgetown below, as its residents scurried here and there under umbrellas on their way to shelter, to curl up under warm blankets in blissful ignorance of the world's sorrow. He watched this scene through calm, jade-colored, half-lidded eyes, keeping his ears attuned to the noises behind him.

He heard the splashing stop, then the sound of water going down the drain, and as he moved toward her bedroom and the bathroom beyond it, the barely audible sound of a towel rubbing against bare skin. The sweet scent of Obsession perfume tickled against his nose, and he allowed himself a very faint sigh of pleasure. He peered cautiously around the doorway. She had her back to him, rubbing lotion on one cream-colored calf, the steam still making a visible curtain around her. He let out his breath slowly and cautiously, but not quietly enough.

She whirled and let out a shriek. She flung herself toward the bed, semi-covering herself with a towel with one hand and grabbing her gun off the nightstand with the other.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes like tiny globes of blue ice. He wondered why she didn't blow his head off at first sight.

"Put the gun down, Scully." Yeah, right. Like she would. This was not going well.

"Yeah, like hell I will." she replied, the blue ice with anger over---uncertainty? or even---excitement?

"I'm not going to hurt you, Scully."

"Were you going to hurt Mulder's father? Or do you just break into people's homes and carry out your orders like a mindless drone and later tell yourself, "I didn't really mean to"?

"I didn't kill Mulder's father."

"I don't believe you."

He chuckled softly, making her jump and the gun in her hand waver slightly. "You don't believe anything anymore, do you?"

"What do you mean?" The thunder outside moaned endlessly.

"You know what I think? I think you're so wrapped up in endless corpses, test tubes, and scientific theories in between bouts of Mulder's bullshit that you've forgotten how to be a woman." Ah, those rosy cheeks. The gun shook in her hand as he walked toward her. He wondered if it was even loaded. He touched her gently and she flinched back, the gunslipping from her hands and clattering harmlessly on the floor.

"How dare you? You lie and kill and cheat and then you give me a psychological analysis? You aren't even worth the----

His kiss cut off her raging words as abruptly as the thunder that still sounded outside. He kissed her passionately, forcing her soft and smooth lips open with his tongue, filling her mouth with his taste and his feel and his need of her until he felt the cold ball of blue ice that encasedher heart melt and she answered him, her body trembling, her skin warmunder his fingertips. Well, some of them.

He let her go, and she jerked away from him. He watched the conflict in her eyes as the anger tried to come back and drown the arousal in her eyes And won.

He drew her into his arms again, ignoring her struggling. "For God's sake, Scully, stop. For once in your boring, miserable life, do what you want to do. Not what Mulder, or Skinner, or anyone else wants you to.

He pulled the towel off her and she surrendered to him, warm and sweet. Afterwards he put her in the bed and stroked her soft auburn hair until she fell into a deep and peaceful slumber.

Outside, the rainstorm had faded to a bare drizzle. Krycek reached into the small brown paper bag he had brought with him and with drew a small handgun. After warming the cold metal against his body for a few minutes, he pushed the tiny gold cross around her neck aside and placed the barrel over her heart. He drew back the hammer and suddenly paused as her chest softly rose and settled back. He uncocked the gun, shoved back in the sack, and left as quietly as he had come.