Title: The Ratling: 04 Comparing The Martyrs
Author: Tara Leigh Thorne
Spoilers: None, and as usual, season 4 has not happened for biological purposes.
Disclaimer:The X-Files and those poor tortured souls within belong to Fox, 1013 and Chris Carter, who are all evil and I wouldn't even try to make money off of them because they could probably get me.

Note: Well, Happy Easter all. A "holiday" worth two days off of school and lotsa chocolate. And here comes me in my pair of bunny ears, hopping through all the poor Pendrell fans who seem to be obsessed with keeping the man alive. Deal With it People. It may have been a pointless death, but it was a death nonetheless, and The X-Files are now geek-free, save for Mulder. Anyway, here's the fourth part that's been in such demand *snerk*, preceded by:


The radio, the snake, the pencil...wait, there was the blasted alligator, and look! How many stupid foxes were in this picture?

Dana Scully tossed the most recent copy of Highlights magazine back onto the waiting room's table with annoyance.

She was confused.

And angry.

And bored.

A tall nurse poked his head into the room and caught Scully's eye.

The redhead acknowledged her and knowingly got to her feet, falling into step with the much taller man.

He only reminded her of Mulder, someone she did not want to think about at the moment. She felt bad later when she realized how surly she had been towards a man who was only doing his job. Her snippy comments and curt responses had not done much for his friendliness, and he abruptly left her outside the room of which he had been instructed to lead her.

She half-heartedly called an apology down the hall after him, one which he rightfully ignored. Taking the deepest breath she had ever inhaled, she slowly and hesitantly pushed the wooden door open.

Inside the small room was standard hospital equipment, meaning beds, curtains, televisions and some bright and shiny bedpans. The room was a double, though housed only one occupant.

She stayed back, surreptiously eying Alex Krycek as he slept fitfully, his hands sometimes falling to his injured side unconsciously. His head thrashed about the pillow as he dreamed, and the occasional Russian phrase came from between his clenched teeth.

As much as she had every reason in the world to hate this man, Scully could not help but feel sorry for him. A combination of maternal and medical instincts proved to be a hard fight as Scully's hatred dueled with her natural reaction to help those in need. She had to almost physically force herself into place, a safe five feet away from the man who had saved her life.

She stood as if locked in place as she pondered various things. A man, basically a stranger, had saved her life. How did one repay a person for such a deed? Mulder, for sure, had saved her life more than once, but that was different. Besides, perhaps unfortunately, she had returned the favor equally.

But this time, this whole Krycek thing, had not been a fluke. It wasn't a Good Samaritan act of any sort, nor was it case of coincidence. He had come out of nowhere and tried to take her away from the danger which had been so ominously close, a danger which her own partner had left her to face alone.

She shook her head and sat down in a chair which had been placed against a wall. She had to stop making the Mulder-Krycek comparisons. They were two totally different people. Their motives, their histories, their personalities...no similarities.

Scully started.

Who was she to be making comparisons anyway? She had no clue as to what Krycek was about. Didn't know anything except the hell he had put them through, and even those instances were as of yet unexplained. She had no idea what he liked, didn't like, what his favorites were, why on earth he had gotten hooked up with Marlboro Man...

Intrigued now, she pushed herself up and crept closer to his bed. Krycek tossed painfully, a little whimper escaping his taut lips.

Scully stared down at the man they called Rat. Even though it went against everything she stood for, and it would cause mondo trouble when it got out, she had to know this man. She had to get answers to her questions.

She had to know what had made him take her life upon himself.

Krycek's eyes flew open, closed, and opened once more.

"Scully," he managed through slack-jawed pain.

She smiled uneasily down at him.

"Hi, Krycek."

He eyed her thoughtfully. "Why are you here? Are you going to kill me?"

Her eyes grew wide and appalled. "No," she spat.

He seemed taken aback and shrunk back against the sheets fearfully.

"No, Krycek," he said, more calmly now. "I need to talk to you, and it seems the only way to keep you in one place is to shoot you, so don't try and run away, okay?"

She pulled back her jacket to reveal her holstered weapon suggestively.

He swallowed hard before squeaking out his agreement.

"Kay."

---end ---


"They say you were something in those formative years, hold onto nothing as fast as you can...well still, pretty good year."

--Tori Amos

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