Happy New Year, Agent Scully

National Mall
December 31, 1999
11:47 PM

I move easily through the press of people crowding the Mall. I don't know why, but people tend to get out of my way. I take up a post under the barren branches of a maple tree, and savor a sip from the fifth of very good vodka I've smuggled through security in the waistband of my jeans.

I'm not sure why I'm here. The entertainment holds no interest for me, and I'm not comfortable in crowds, but there was something even more pathetic than usual about my dingy one room apartment tonight. The ratty sofa that doubles as my bed, and the graying stained walls seemed even more shabby compared to the bright, glamorous celebrations going on around the globe.

I must admit though that the images of Moscow that I saw on tv earlier were very moving. It brought tears to my eyes to see all those happy people in Red Square; their faces illuminated by multi-colored fireworks exploding above the towers of St. Basil's and The Kremlin.

I suppose I wanted to be a part of something like that as well, even though I'm so far from my homeland. This was a mistake though. In the midst of these jubilant crowds, talking excitedly, waiting for the big moment, I feel more alone than ever. They don't understand, not here and not in Moscow, the price that some of us have paid to ensure this new year comes at all.

Its time to go home, I decide, and head for one of the exits. There are only four ways in or out of this place and each of them is guarded by police, secret service and who knows who else. It was insane to come here in the first place.

There's no security check on the way out which isn't too surprising. Getting in was the dangerous part. Not that I had anything to hide. I didn't even try to come in here with my gun, even though to leave it behind made me feel practically naked. But I knew there would be metal detectors. No, the vodka was the only contraband I tried to slip inside tonight. Successfully I might add.

The guards don't even seem to be paying attention. It must be getting close to midnight; all eyes are glued to the Washington Monument where in a few moments the biggest fireworks display in the US, or something like that, is supposed to take place.

I'm nearly home free, out in the street, about to slip down a darkened alley when I hear it. A woman's voice, vaguely familiar.

"Krycek!"

I glance around and, oh shit! Special Agent Dana Scully is drawing her weapon, an expression of triumph on her normally placid face.

I run. I don't even think about it. Fortunately there are enough people on the street that I don't think she can get a clear shot at me. At least I don't think she can, and I really hope I'm right; I'm betting my life on it after all.

My feet pound down the alley. I take one quick turn and then another. I know this area of D.C. well enough to avoid any dead ends, but no matter where I turn, I can hear the click, click of Scully's heels, still trailing me. Damn it! You wouldn't think she'd be able to run so fast in shoes like that.

Since this is getting me no where, I decide its time for a new tactic. After I take the next corner, I stop running, and duck down into the shadows behind a garbage dumpster. I forcibly calm my rapid breathing; I have to be absolutely silent now.

Scully races around the corner and then slows. She's not stupid. She knows she hasn't fallen that far behind me. She knows I'm here ... somewhere. I hear a rustle and then a click that tells me she's drawn her gun and released the safety. I reach for my own gun in the waistband of my jeans, but only find the vodka bottle. Fuck!

Scully slowly passes my position. Her eyes slide right over the place where I'm crouching. I know a lot of people think I'm making some kind of a statement by dressing all in black, particularly the black leather jacket, but its purely practical. Do you think a trained FBI agent would fail to spot me in the shadows if I were wearing some neon colored ski jacket?

However I can't count on her missing me forever, besides she may decide to call for back up. She's almost past me now, and as soon as the takes another step ...

I explode out of the shadows.

My hand closes over her gun as I body slam her face first into the concrete wall of the building on the opposite side of the alley. I hear a whoosh of air as the breath is driven from her body. Her grip on the gun slackens, so that I'm able to pull it out of her hand and slip it into my own pocket. While I've got her pinned to the wall like this, I pat her down as best I can with only one hand. I don't come up with another gun, but I do find her cell phone and handcuffs. The cell phone goes into my pocket along with her gun and the handcuffs go around her own wrists with a satisfying little click.

As soon as I take a step back and stop pressing her into the wall with my body weight, she whirls around to face me. Man, is she furious. I don't think I've ever seen Scully quite this pissed off before. Her icy blue eyes look like they're trying to bore a hole through my skull. I'll bet she's trying to imagine what I'd look like with a bullet hole in the middle of my forehead. Of course I don't blame her; I wouldn't be too happy if the situation was reversed.

However since the situation is not reversed, I'm exceedingly, uncharacteristically happy.

"Agent Scully, what a surprise," I greet her pleasantly.

"Krycek," she practically spits at me as she says it.

"What are you doing here, Agent Scully," I ask, a bit more seriously. Was she tipped off that I would be here? I don't see how that's possible since I didn't decide to come until a hour or two ago. But I should know better than to underestimate the duplicity of certain people. And if she did receive a tip, Mulder can't be far behind.

"Anti-terrorism task force," she answers. "Whatever you've done, you won't get away with it."

I gotta hand it to her, she's tough. She thinks I'm here to commit murder and mayhem, but she's still not backing down, not even wearing her own handcuffs.

"Don't worry Scully," I assure her, "The public is safe tonight, at least from me." Not that she'll believe me, but I really hate the idea of being blamed for something, when for once I'm completely innocent. My face is on enough wanted posters the way it is.

"Then why are you here Krycek," Scully demands with a rather nasty smile on her face. "Couldn't get a date for New Year's Eve?"

I can't help grinning. Agent Scully made a joke. Well, sort of.

The sound of a distant explosion causes both of us to jump slightly. Same reflexes I guess. Scully looks absolutely horrified, probably imaging the carnage caused by some terrorist's bomb, and I can't even describe what I'm afraid it might be, until we both realize that its just the fireworks. It must be midnight. Happy New Year, huh?

Although, that does give me an idea ...

I lean in close and see real fear in her eyes for the first time tonight. It only makes me move in closer. So close I can smell the soapy clean smell of her skin, and my breath stirs her hair when I speak.

"Looks like you're my date now," I whisper into her ear, low and husky.

She responds by trying to knee me in the groin. I'm expecting something like this from her, so I'm able to turn just enough so that she catches my thigh instead. It still hurts though, and I'm a little rougher than I have to be when I push her body up against the building with my own again and thread my fingers through her hair, pulling tight to keep her head still.

And then I kiss her. It's fast and violent and she doesn't respond at all. But at least it shuts her up. Finally.

"Sorry I don't have any champagne for a proper toast, Dana," I begin, raising my mouth away from hers just slightly. I know I have my most self-satisfied grin on my face, but I just can't seem to help myself. "How about some vodka instead?"

Scully opens her mouth to reply, and I have a feeling that she's about to say something uncharacteristically vile. So I kiss her again; this time taking advantage of her slightly parted lips by flicking my tongue inside to taste her.

The shrill ringing of a cell phone interrupts us before I have time to totally lose my head, and also, fortunately, before Scully can get hers together and think to bite me.

I reluctantly move away and fish Scully's phone out of my pocket. I hit the 'talk' button and then just listen.

There are a few seconds of silence before I hear Mulder's voice, sounding slightly uncertain, "Scully, are you there?"

"Mulder, I was wondering when you were going to join the party," I reply.

A few more seconds of silence pass.

"Krycek," Mulder growls. "If you've hurt her ... nothing will stop me from ripping you apart with my bare hands!"

"Mulder!" Scully calls out, and I'm forced to shut her up by pressing her against the building yet again, my prosthetic hand around her throat. Its hard for me to judge the right amount of pressure to use, so I wish she'd just relax. I'd hate to have to strangle her, after all we've been having such a good time.

"She's not hurt, Mulder," I reassure him. I turn my attention to Scully. "Not yet," I say to her, and she seems to get the message since she stops struggling.

I have a feeling that the nights festivities are drawing to a close, at least for me. Mulder has no doubt mobilized the troops to search for Scully by now, and I have no intention of letting him get his hands on me. Especially if Scully's lips still look as perfectly swollen and well-kissed when he finds her as they do right now.

I drop the cell phone into Scully's pocket; I can still hear Mulder's tinny voice threatening me with excruciatingly painful bodily harm. I toss her gun into a pile of trash across the alley, and I look her in the eye one more time. I don't think I've ever seen Scully look so completely disconcerted, and I feel a bit of pride that one way or another I've been able to rock that famous Scully composure.

"Shhhh!" I whisper, putting my index finger to her lips, and then I pull it back and give my own fingertip a little pouty kiss. Scully blinks.

I grin at her one last time. "Happy New Year, Agent Scully," I say and then slip out of the alley.

Back in the street I starting thinking over the events of this night. I've enjoyed some extremely good quality vodka and I've been kissed by a fiery red-head ... twice. This is hands-down the best New Year's Eve party I've been to for years. And if its any sort of an omen, well ... maybe this year _will_ be a happy one for me, finally.

I merge into the rest of the crowd leaving the Mall now that the celebration is over, and just disappear.