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The man with the lit Morley glanced back over his shoulder. Making sure that the five men that were accompanying him had entered the observation room. School, for four of them anyway, was now in session. The rebel alien slaughter of almost all of the Syndicate had necessitated this … expansion of the knowledge base. He didn’t like it, but he accepted the inevitability of it. It’d been a long time, since he’d been cast in the role of mentor/teacher to a large number of men. And the fifth man. Alex Krycek. What was his agenda? What were his plans? His goals? The smoking man didn’t know. And until he did, he intended to keep the younger man close. It further suited his purpose to introduce a level of hierarchy between himself and the new men. Krycek filled the niche well enough. But the many uncertainties associated with the younger man plagued him. Krycek’d had a plausible explanation for his absence from the pick up point. He’d gone to retrieve the alien fetus. Which had been stolen. Right out from under them. Presumably by the Rebels. Those who had so successfully orchestrated the incineration of the bulk of the Syndicate that had “worked with” the colonists for so many years. He’d had another side trip foisted on him by Jeffrey Spender. Liberating he and Marita Covarrubias from the military facility, allowing the woman to be ensconced in a “safe house”. From which the smoker’s men had liberated her within the hour. Marita Covarrubias knew too much to be at large. When a more complete evaluation of the current circumstances had been conducted, it was determined that she knew too much to live. That’s what brought them to this facility. On this day. At this hour. This particular loose end had to be tied off. Observation of the procedure would bind the newly elevated men to the cause. Ever more tightly. Subtly increasing his influence over them. A process that Krycek was all too familiar with. From both sides. A process that was necessary. To keep the transition smooth. To allow the work of the Syndicate to be continued. That portion of the work that the smoking man supported anyway. Yet the man who should’ve been most interested in the proceedings, Alex Krycek, remained unusually insular. Silent. Creating distance with his posture, demeanor and attitude. Not caring that the other men didn’t accept him. Satisfied that the four feared him. Determined that they’d maintain a discrete distance. Keep out of his way. Exhaling cigarette smoke, he observed Krycek surreptitiously. He and Marita had been lovers for at least three years. Perhaps for almost five. The intensity of their passion was something to see. Which the master manipulator had on numerous occasions, memorialized on high quality video tape. He wouldn’t go so far as to assert that Alex loved Marita or vice versa, but he was willing to wager that their mutual need was more than physical. Until the freighter. Until Dimitri. The boy housing the black oil. The test subject for the Russian vaccine. Until Marita took Alex to bed to allow her accomplices to take the boy. Until she made him moan her name, even while she was betraying him. Well. All right. He didn’t know whether Alex’d moaned Marita’s name or not. But his man assigned to Marita had reported on the enthusiasm with which the couple had headed for as close to a real bed as they could get. After their particularly intense re-acquaintance up against a wall in the hold. The smoker halted his musings, acknowledging that he’d drifted from the facts to pure speculation, and turned his attention to watching the young man in question look through the observation window to the room below. His expression was unreadable. His eyes devoid of emotion. A quick glance at the other four revealed a different situation. Entirely. The blonde one muttered, “Is that Marita?” The eldest of the four replied, “Looks that way. Seems like the bitch finally got what was coming to her.” The red head added, “So long as it hurt. A lot. That’d be enough for me.” “Looks like it did,” the fourth added with a grin. “I always thought that pain’d be the only thing that’d bring that tease back in line.” “She insisted that she liked pain,” the blonde added softly. “And laughed at you, if you weren’t man enough to dish it out?” the red head asked, his smile vicious. The blonde didn’t reply. He just stared down at the young woman on the hospital bed. “It was never enough. Even when it seemed to be too much.” “She certainly looks like shit,” the fourth man added. “I bet she could still make a priest hard, if she put her mind to it,” the eldest man observed nonchalantly. The avidness of his gaze and the focus of his attention suggested that he was perhaps a victim of his own observation. The man was no priest. Of that, the smoking man was certain. He was also sure that Ms. Covarrubias had … taken advantage of each of these men. Gotten what she’d wanted and brought them to their knees. All without spreading her legs. It was quite an achievement really. He’d been impressed. His colleagues had not. Three of these had been their men. They didn’t like Marita “sniffing around” their stable. Not in the least. He’d always thought that that was why they’d accepted Krycek so readily. The feeling that the younger man had learned his lesson. Vis a vis Marita anyway. He’d further wondered if that wasn’t the whole point of Krycek’s return from his self-appointed exile. Along with getting the Russian vaccine into American hands. Getting himself back in their camp. Support from certain sympathetic quarters had gotten the boy in much further than he ever would’ve been able to without assistance. Deciding that that line of speculation was endless and quite possibly led to madness, he abandoned it. In favor of observing the reaction of his colleague and their pupils to the entrance of the physician. The one with the syringe that would end Ms. Covarrubias’ life. “We’re ready,” the doctor informed him through the microphone embedded in his helmet. He hadn’t spared a glance for any of the five younger men. “Explain and proceed,” was the order he issued, taking another drag of his cigarette and noting with interest that he now had Krycek’s attention as well. He’d never lost that of the other four men, if you didn’t count the residual lust that they’d briefly focused on the object of their observation and the questioning looks that they gave to the doctor’s biohazard level four attire. “We will inject this combination of chemicals into Ms. Covarrubias’ system. They will render dormant any remaining virus and commence an orderly shut down of her systems. She’ll feel little additional pain.” “Why kill her?” the eldest student, aged 53 and a half, asked. He was looking a bit uncertain. No matter. That would be corrected, or he’d follow Marita into oblivion. CSM had neither the time nor the patience for indecisiveness. Of any ilk. “Her primary modus operandi was seduction,” the instructor pointed out. “Her success rate would drop below acceptable limits, under the circumstances. In addition, the information she’s collected over the years with regard to our operations could pose a threat. Should it fall into the wrong hands. That risk has been deemed unacceptable.” The four new men nodded solemnly. Alex Krycek rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You have a problem with my analysis Alex?” “No. I’m just curious. What’s with the get up?” the younger man asked sarcastically, gesturing to the doctor. “There’s no “residual virus”. Her chart showed that unequivocally. He’s only wearing that thing to rationalize what he’s going to do with his vague recollection of his Hippocratic oath.” “And your medical degree is from what institution Mr. …?” “Look. Doctor. I read the chart, and I can sense a coward from miles away.” “I don’t need to take …” “Answer Alex’s question Dr. Marchant. I must admit to some curiosity on this point myself.” He smiled at the doctor and reached into his pocket to extract his open pack of Morleys. He observed the doctor’s flustered expression with interest. Sharing a glance with Krycek. He raised an eyebrow. Krycek countered with a rude gesture aimed at the doctor’s back. He almost laughed, having no doubt that Alex’d repeat it as soon as the man turned to face him. But then he remembered the four students. It simply wouldn’t do to set such an example. He’d have to remember to reprimand Alex later for their benefit. “This young woman has come in contact with a very dangerous … very virulent organism. She has received a number of experimental treatments designed to eliminate the threat. They seemed to have worked. However, we can’t be too careful. If this pathogen is released into the world at large the effect could be … would be devastating.” The doctor was staring at Krycek as he delivered his speech. Krycek met his eyes, but then quickly checked the reaction of the students at the conclusion of the doctor’s statements. The smoker found that interesting and made sure that he did as well. Their nervousness and fear was obvious. Krycek had done that on purpose. Of that, he was almost certain. But why? Yet another question to be answered concerning his younger colleague. At a time when he required answers. Galvanized with new confidence, since his explanation had appeared sufficient, the doctor moved toward the door. Krycek moved to intercept him. The doctor looked at the younger man with some trepidation and required a few moments to notice that Alex had extended his right hand. When the physician looked at the black gloved appendage blankly, Krycek gestured with his fingers. When there was no apparent understanding of what he wanted, Krycek pointed at the syringe and repeated the “Give it to me” gesture. “No. I couldn’t allow …” The doctor’s sentence trailed off in the face of Krycek’s narrowed angry eyes. Helplessly, the physician turned to the man he knew to be the decision maker, who assented with an almost imperceptible nod. Without uttering a sound, much less a word, the doctor handed the syringe to Krycek. If he had any temptation to stick the younger man with it, he’d controlled it admirably. Alex Krycek accepted the syringe, gazing at it thoughtfully for a moment before meeting his putative superior’s eyes. The smoking man observed the boy calmly and a bit uncertainly. Alex’s mouth twitched slightly and his eyes moved briefly to the other men in the room, and then back to him. Understanding came quickly. He nodded affirmatively. Then Krycek took a deep breath and turned to exit the room. “Alex?” the physician called softly. Tentatively. Hesitant to assume the familiarity that using the assertive young man’s first name implied, although he didn’t know, or want to know, his last. Krycek turned and watched the doctor take off his helmet and offer it to him. “No thanks. I believe what I read.” “What was that all about?” the red head asked after watching Alex Krycek exit the room. “Is he nuts?” “Alex follows his own path. And he’s right far more often than not. You’d do well to observe him closely.” All four of the pupils focused on their teacher, startled. Praise did not routinely pass their mentor’s lips. He smiled and lit another cigarette. Moving toward the observation window, he examined the control panel in front of him avidly. Until he found the toggle he wanted. Movement in the room below caught his eye. Krycek had entered and closed the door behind him. He looked at the monitor above Marita’s bed, frowned and glared up at the observation window. The smoker saluted and hit the switch eliminating the ability of those in the observation booth to hear the conversation of the two people in the room. Ignoring the grumbling of the students. He’d review the tape of this conversation later. Alex knew and accepted that. However, he’d wanted privacy vis a vis the other men in the room. He was entitled to that at least. So the smoking man had agreed. Who knew when he might be able to collect on this little favor.
Alex Krycek saw the audio light on the monitor go from green to red and nodded. The smoker had held up his part of their silent bargain. Interesting. Wonder what he’ll expect in return? But concerns of the future were for another time. Another place. Here and now the present was in danger of blending into the past. The past that wouldn’t allow him to watch Marita pass her last few moments in the presence of a man dressed up like an astronaut. Despite everything, she deserved better. Before moving forward, Alex thoughts returned to the last time he’d seen her. At the base. It should’ve been easy. A quick stop. But … the fetus was gone. Still trying to assimilate that information, he’d been confronted with Jeff Spender … and what was left of Marita. Jeff had been adamant that he needed to get Marita out “To tell her story”. Alex had intended to abandoned the duo there, but they’d tagged along. Followed him through the corridors. Spender grabbing his prosthesis, spouting rhetoric about “Doing the right thing” and “Exposing the conspiracy”, as if Alex wasn’t integral to it. Jeff was slow on the uptake with respect to many of the salient facts. Actually, you could uncharitably characterize his ignorance to encompass all of the facts that hadn’t been spoon fed to him. Annoyed by the whole situation, not wanting to linger, and his left shoulder aching from the strain that Spender was putting on it, Krycek had relented. Gotten them out. Sent Jeff back to the FBI. Where he promptly hid his prize witness in a location from which she could easily be removed. “Who’s there?” The tremulous fearful voice startled Krycek. He’d been lost in his own thoughts, standing just inside the door. Hidden in the shadows. She must’ve heard the sound of his breathing. Excellent hearing. That was a Marita trait. Suddenly uncertain that he’d made the right decision, Alex took a few deep breaths to calm himself. “Is anyone there? Please answer.” Her breathing was quick and shallow. She was frightened. Through sheer force of will, Alex got himself moving toward the bed. Step by step. One foot in front of the other. When he got to the foot of the bed, he whispered, “It’s me Marita. Alex.” “I can’t see you Alex. I can’t … I can’t lift my head. It hurts so much. Oh God. Alex.” The pain and fear in her voice propelled his feet into further motion. His steps more sure. Certain. When he reached a position about even with her right shoulder, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m here Marita. Just to your right.” Her head moved slowly. A few inches to the right. And she tried to smile. Alex fought against showing any outward reaction to the rotten teeth and near translucence of her skin. He’d always been fascinated by Marita’s high cheekbones and clear blue eyes. Now her skin barely covered her skull. Her eyes sunken, appearing black in the dim light. “Don’t look at me. I’m ugly.” Alex smiled and lied. Hell. Why not? He was good at it. “No you’re not.” When she shook her head sadly, Krycek realized that the truth could serve him just as well here. “A guy up in the observation booth said that you could still make a priest hard. I think you … ahh … got the better of him sometime in your deep dark past. Undoubtedly showing no mercy. As usual.” Her effort to laugh cost her. She began to cough. Uncontrollably. From the diaphragm. “Marita, are you ok? Do you want some water?” At her affirmative nod, Krycek went to the second door in the room. As he expected, it was a bathroom. Filling a small paper cup with water, the man questioned the wisdom of his actions. He knew he probably shouldn’t be here. His putative “boss” might well view this excursion as a sign of weakness. But, then again, maybe not. Krycek recalled that man’s actions in dealing with Mulder’s mother and his ex-wife. There’d been a little … emotion there. A modicum of remorse or regret or … something. Alex couldn’t precisely define what was driving him now. And he was quite certain that he didn’t want to. He helped Marita sit up, and then gave her the water. Drinking it helped her cough, but her arms were so weak and uncoordinated that she spilled most of what she didn’t drink. When she looked up at Alex like she was expecting a reprimand for her clumsiness, he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest. Hard. “Hey. Don’t worry about that. It’s only water. You’re not going to melt, are you?” “Does that mean you don’t think of me as the wicked witch of the west anymore?” The light tone belied the intensity and pain Alex could see in her eyes. Causing his Wizard of Oz-based retort to die in his throat. He could barely face her emotions and didn’t want to contemplate…no, remember…how tough they were to experience. Less than ideal circumstances were part of Krycek’s everyday existence, but he coped by refusing to acknowledge his memories of looking at people the way Marita was looking at him. Russia. Passing out in excrutiating pain and waking up with worse. Wanting to die, rather than endure the pain for another moment. Seeing “that look” on someone else’s face was like … looking in a two year-old mirror. At a reflection he never thought he’d have chosen to face again. But here they were. And he couldn’t look away. The memory of how painful it’d been when that had happened to him was suddenly impossible to banish. He wouldn’t subject her to that. “Alex? Why are you here? I know how you must feel about me.” “I’m not sure how you can know … when I don’t. Reflecting on my innermost feelings isn’t something I do every day. And talking about them is a once a decade kind of thing. You know that. And you hated it. My feelings for you? I don’t know. Hell. I may’ve even loved you. In my own way. To the extent I remain capable of such a lofty idealistic emotion.” As he was speaking, he’d taken her hand in his human one. He’d removed the ever present black leather glove when he’d gotten her water. The skin-to-skin contact was telling. Her hand was too hot. Too dry. The smooth perfect skin and flawlessly manicured nails he remembered were things of the past. Never to be recaptured. “Love isn’t lofty or idealistic Alex. It’s often base. Almost amoral.” “What?” Alex Krycek hadn’t spoken of love as a concept in longer than he could remember, but Marita’s definition didn’t comport with his, admittedly limited understanding of the matter. It certainly wasn’t how his mother had described it to a small boy with a fever, who wanted to be out playing hockey but had to be satisfied with a story. A girl’s story. That being the first of two times that Alex Krycek had discussed the subject with his mother. The second had been … more heated. “Do you disagree?” Marita’s voice brought Krycek back to the present. But he was beginning to be concerned that the here and now was going to prove little emotionally safer than the route his thoughts had been taking. He wasn’t sure that answering her question would improve things, but he intended to anyway. What was the harm? Might even be interesting. Let the chain smoker from hell chew on this. “I guess I do.” Spoken slowly. Thoughtfully. “Loving someone, or something for that matter, makes … should make a difference. For all involved. Seems lofty and idealistic to me.” Marita was staring at Alex. Stunned. Had she actually heard what she thought she heard. From those lips? That tongue had participated in forming those words? No cruel smile to prove that he’d been playing her? Just a shrug that tried for dismissive, but came across slightly embarrassed. Fidgeting? If he was as uncomfortable with what he’d said … revealed … as he looked, he’d start talking again. With a diversionary agenda. When she didn’t respond, Alex filled what was for him beginning to be an unbearable silence. “Tell you what Marita. I promise you that if I’m ever possessed to declare my undying love to someone, I’ll be sure to include the words base and amoral. Perhaps a poem would be best to convey the complete sentiment. What do you think?” She smiled again, this time with genuine affection. And the power of that smile obliterated the image of rotten teeth and gaunt, hollowed eyes. Alex found himself smiling back and bringing her hand to his lips. “I’d wait until you were safely married with all the children you intend to have, before you mentioned that part. Just in case her sense of humor isn’t sick or twisted enough to … appreciate the notion.” The two former lovers stared at each other for a moment. Uncertain of how to continue. Marita broke the silence with a resigned sigh. “Are you here to kill me Alex?” “They wanted to send in some doctor in a space suit. That didn’t seem … right somehow. I thought you … might prefer … someone you knew.” Alex met Marita’s eyes as he spoke the final phrase. She squeezed his hand slightly, before matching his gesture and bringing it to her lips. Her mouth was warmer than her hands. What the hell had they done to her? Releasing his hand, she held out her arm to him. “Do it Alex. Please. I can’t take the pain anymore.” Alex Krycek nodded and took several deep breaths. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted the syringe. A quick glance around the room revealed a stash of sanitary towelettes. Krycek picked one up and tore it open with his teeth. Rubbing the crook of her elbow with it gently, he heard her faint chuckle. “What? Does this tickle or something?” “No. I just find it ironic that you’re going to the trouble to cleanse the area to receive an injection … like this.” Alex smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Habit. I guess. I’ll try not to hurt you.” Krycek picked up the syringe and wasted no time in injecting the lethal dose. As he withdrew the needle, he was surprised at how much his hand was shaking. He couldn’t stop it. Or stop staring at it. “Alex. Look at me.” Her tone of command, albeit delivered in a weakened voice caught his attention. Centered him. “Thank you for … being here.” Her gratitude for his latest action was more than Alex Krycek could reasonably process at the moment. So he just started talking. To get the things he wanted to say off of his chest. “I didn’t know Marita. I thought they’d just verify that the vaccine worked and give you a new assignment. When I saw you with Spender, I …” “Since when were they ever predictable? I got myself into this “situation”. As you undoubtedly recall. By choosing badly. I was so scared Alex. Everything was moving so fast. You and I had our plans, but I didn’t think we knew everything. And they seemed to.” Her bitterness was evident in her sharp laugh. “Little did I know that my Alex had it all under control. All figured out. Those “theories” about the rebels … and their strategy. They were more than that. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it. You were a man alone. They were the powerful manipulators.” “What you didn’t understand. What I never explained to you … was that I wasn’t. I didn’t … trust you enough to tell you everything.” “That turned out to be a good decision. Didn’t it?” She was laughing again. But this time the laughter had an edge of hysteria. Indicative of a loss of control. The drugs were beginning their work. “Didn’t it?” Recognizing how close her emotions were to the surface … the danger of loosing them … Krycek endeavored to disrupt the process. “Marita. Don’t do this. What’s the point?” “The point? Is there a point? Does there have to be one beyond the obvious? That my own treachery got me … excuse me, us to this point. I was so proud of myself. Proud, Alex. I had come up with the plan on my own. The one that would let me cross over to the other side. As safely as such a crossing could ever be. Uncontrovertible proof. That’s what Fox Mulder and his sidekick were lacking. They had most of the pieces, and a tenuous theory connecting them. All they required was one bit of hard evidence. Then you arrived on the scene. Sporting that trademark attitude. Calling the Syndicate to tell them you were in their own back yard. The man with the plan, the infected boy and the vaccine. All in one neat package. I just had to take them from you.” Marita paused and frowned. As though she’d forgotten something. Then she started laughing again. A hysterical … kind of psychotic laugh. One that chilled Alex Krycek to his marrow. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you were going to do? The boy was almost redundant. For my purposes.” “So you’d have just let me deliver him to Mulder? Without exacting something for yourself?” Krycek shook his head. Looking away and back again. Uncertain. “Look. I don’t know what I’d have done. But I …” “Didn’t have the chance to do the “right thing”, whatever that was, because I didn’t trust you.” She was laughing again. In that scary way. “What a pair we are. And this is where our mutual distrust got us. Into this … fine mess.” “We both made mistakes …” “Well, I’m experiencing one hell of a ramification right now. I suppose that’s fitting in a way. After what I did to you.” “Nothing you did to me merits this.” “I’m not so sure. Admitting what happened on that freighter to the Syndicate and accepting their judgment couldn’t have been pleasant.” It’d been … trying. But Alex’d played the fool well. Too well to suit him really. No need for her to know that. Right, Alex? Not wanting to admit that she’d shaken him, he interjected what he hoped to be the final word on the topic. “It wasn’t that big a deal. You seduced me and had an accomplice take the kid. Not a new or particularly riveting story.” Marita heard but didn’t acknowledge the message in Krycek’s clipped tone. That the discussion on this subject was closed. “Seduced you?” This time her laugh was throaty. Almost … sexy. The strangeness of such a sound coming from a dying woman, who was a travesty of her former self, was unnerving. And oddly compelling. Krycek couldn’t ignore her … or interrupt. Even though he really didn’t want to hear any more. “You threw me up against the wall Alex. I guess it’d been a long time. You were so desperate. Needy. How many people have you ever let see that side of you Alex? The weakness. The uncertainty. How the loss of your arm robbed you of that unassailable confidence in yourself. And how that made you vulnerable. To physical … sexual manipulation. I know you never told anyone, but did you ever really think about who had the upper hand in that little cabin on that freighter? Or why? Have you ever begged for release … like that? Over and over and over and over. Have you ever been faced with a woman so … seemingly … unmoved by your hands? Your mouth? Your body. Hmmmm?” Alex wanted … intended to reply with a sarcastic disarming statement, as was his typical pattern. But she’d struck more than a nerve. “Marita. I …” She smiled coldly, as his voice trailed off. “Alex. You were vulnerable, and pretending not to be. Easy prey. For me. I’d built a career on taking advantage of men. But never of you. Before then. On that ship, things were different. And I very much wanted to see the shattering of that vaunted control. You’d always held yourself at a distance from me. Even when we were at our most intimate. But you couldn’t maintain … control or distance … in your cabin. On that tiny bed, the playing field for our contest of wills finally tilted in my favor. And I liked it. That’s what aroused me. The man who didn’t need anything or anyone needed me. So much that it was physically painful. Hurting so much that you begged me to … please you.” All of his anger and pain were infused into a slap of her face. “That’s enough Marita!” The ensuing silence was deafening. Alex was breathing hard. Wanting to hurt her. Knowing it didn’t matter. How futile and pointless such a gesture would be. Wishing he was anywhere else. Wondering why the hell he’d thought she deserved better than what she’d been going to get. All the while admitting that there was some truth in her words. Reluctantly. Against his will. Feeling his place in the world shift precariously. His balance lost. His rationalizations insufficient. Marita rubbed her cheek absently, as she continued. Reasonably. Inexorably. “It was amazing really. Watching you afterward. Focusing exclusively on the pleasure that I’d finally allowed you to have. Ignoring … reinventing what had gone before. Memorizing domination as seduction. Knowing deep down the level of bull shit that you were accepting. To get yourself through the day. To maintain the veneer of the lone wolf. Afraid of nothing. Regardless of what lurked in your subconscious. Suppression makes you weak Alex. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Alex Krycek’s mind was whirling. He couldn’t avoid the memories conjured up by her words. Or the raw dangerous emotions that went with them. Why was she doing this? “Alex?” Her voice was soft now. The hurtful edge gone. Replaced by what? Compassion. Krycek did not want, and was uncertain that he could handle, compassion from this woman at this time. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean … to say it quite that way. But I need you to listen. I don’t have a lot more time. What you have to know … what I want to tell you is that … you’re wrong.” Her shifting tone and demeanor confused him. As did her immediately translatable gesture that he should sit back down beside her. Stunned, Krycek obeyed, looking for some indication of what she meant. He saw none. “Wrong? About what?” “Everything but the alien rebels.” Her eyes shut, and she took a deep shuddering breath. It was getting difficult to talk. “Everything but …? I don’t understand Marita.” “This,” she stated intensely as she punched his prosthesis. “It doesn’t diminish you. No matter how much I, and who knows who else, have suggested that it does.” “You can do most things with one hand,” Krycek muttered, avoiding her eyes. “Everything that’s important.” “It’s tough to rescue cats from oak trees. The fireman career path is forever foreclosed.” Marita smiled at his words. The almost pedantic middle American hero referent. But recognized that his tone of voice didn’t match. There was no humor in it. “Not if you have a ladder and decent balance. But that’s beside the point. Don’t change the subject.” “I didn’t. At least, I don’t think I did.” “Alex. I was fighting for my life on that freighter. I’d made a decision, and I didn’t want you to figure out why. To understand my motives or what I hoped to accomplish. Soon enough to stop me. If I could break your will, you wouldn’t be able to see how much I wished things could’ve been different.” Marita paused to check her audience. He was listening, albeit skeptically. “I’m not saying that I was in love, but it was a whole lot deeper than lust. And I was seriously in lust. No harm in admitting that now. But what I felt had more to do with respect and companionship and … a hundred other things.” Her description was beginning to sound like his understanding of the word “love”, but Krycek kept his mouth shut. Otherwise he might have to examine his own feelings on the matter a bit more closely. “So you treated me like a piece of meat for reasons that seemed valid to you at the time. Ok. Apology understood and accepted. Can we change the subject now?” “If you really believe me.” Alex sighed loudly. Evidencing his annoyance. “I know I can still get laid on occasion Marita. I don’t want to shock your delicate sensibilities or anything, but I have. So you didn’t scar me for life. All right?” Her frown eloquently expressed her frustration. He didn’t understand. She wasn’t explaining well enough. “I don’t mean just …” “Ssshhhh. It’s ok. I’m ok. Ok?” Krycek closed his eyes briefly, considering the basic inanity of what he’d just said. Who knew what to say at a time like this anyway? Marita’s eyes were drifting closed again, but she forced them open. Then she began to shiver uncontrollably. “Alex. Would you … hold me? I’m so cold.” Krycek shifted until he was leaning against the wall at the head of the bed and pulled Marita against his chest. She immediately began to struggle. “No. The other way. I want to see you.” A few more moments of re-orientation brought the two people eye to eye, with the woman leaning against the man’s shoulder. “Ok now?” She nodded and made a face that would’ve once been a tender smile. Her eyes communicated what her mouth was incapable of. “I want the last thing I see to be your face.” Alex Krycek opened his mouth, but nothing come out. He never expected her to say … to want anything like that. Not in a million years would Alex’ve anticipated that he’d be on the receiving end of such a request. At his stricken look, Marita asked, “Is that all right? Can you forget what I’ve done for a few moments and allow me that?” Alex nodded slowly, thinking. Bringing his right hand up to caress her cheek, a flood of memories came into his mind. From happier times. And there had been some. Judging from the far away look in her eyes, she might’ve been having the same experience. Well. Alex. Where’s the down side? It’s now or never. Clearing his throat to get her attention, he stared into her eyes. Running his fingers through her dirty hair. “I’ll … miss you Marita.” She kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear. “Don’t. Find someone you can trust enough to let them in. It’ll make you stronger. And I’ve got the feeling you’ll need to be. Goodbye Alex.” “Goodbye Marita,” he murmured as her eyes, which had been locked on his, closed and she relaxed against him. Krycek held her close for another five or six minutes. His emotions complicated. Turbulent. Until the monitors verified that she was gone. At that point, he slowly extricated himself from her embrace. After gently arranging her on her back and covering her body with the sheet, Alex stepped away. His back to the observation window. No one needed to see the single tear running down his left cheek.
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