From: "Satina" To: ; "RATales" ; "Nixxers" ; ; "MSKipperFic" ; "Hegal Place News" ; ; Subject: [XFNC17ff] NEW FIC: Wrong, NC-17, Sc/? (het) Date: Saturday, January 04, 2003 10:03 PM I'm posting this for my shan. Please direct all feedback to her. Thanks. :-) xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx Wrong by Shannon Kizzia (shannon@hegalplace.com) Rating: NC-17 Category: SRA, Scully POV Pairing: Sc/? Warning: Heterosexual sex ahoy! I know. Shocking, isn't it? Spoilers: References to the Anasazi trilogy, but beyond that nothing. Archive: Have at it! :) Date of Posting: 01/04/03 Disclaimer: Just 'cause I love 'em doesn't make 'em mine. Summary: This is a story about finding the strength not to hide love. Author's Notes at the end. ................ "He's going to ruin your life." "Mom," I start and then don't know how to continue. How can I convince her otherwise? She *should* be right. It's just that she's not. She's not. "You don't understand," I tell her, looking down at my own hands held tightly together in my lap. Like I hold my life. So tightly together. So fucking tight. "I don't understand," she says with reserved irritation, maybe even reserved rage. It's sometimes hard to tell the difference. I feel like a teenager around her still. I don't have any scientific answers for her. I have no proof. All I have is...you don't understand. "Dana, I *understand*...that you're making a huge mistake. Even if you don't know it." "Well, that's my problem I guess, isn't it?" I answer, angry at the flash of pain I feel in my chest. I see my father's face when I told him I was joining the FBI. I see it fall...harden. I see my mother behind him, in profile, arms crossed, head bowed, leaving me alone to face his music. "He's no *good*, Dana!" she says loudly, yet still she doesn't yell. Just scream at me, Mom. Scream like you never did. Give me a reason to let it all out. To not hold the truth of him so tightly inside that I feel so damned dirty I can hardly look at you. Give me a way to spill it all out all over your nice parquet floors. "He's not what you think." "Look what he's done to your, *our* lives!" She holds her hand strong over her heart and mine clenches, tears threatening. "He hasn't done this," I say, eyes cast down now, shaking my head. I have no evidence. And all she can see is one daughter barren and one dead. "He..." I have to drop to a whisper, afraid of telling too much truth, and afraid nothing will be enough for her. "He isn't...what everybody thinks." "Even if that's true...even if it's not...*his* fault..." She looks up at me and I force myself to meet her eyes. "You can't deny that your life would be better without him in it." "My life would be different, Mom. That's all." My voice has begun to shake with concealing my anger and hurt. "You'd be happier..." "He *makes* me happy!" I interrupt. "You'd be freer to..." "Freer to what? To find some nice accountant, or better yet some nice military man to take care of, to cook for, to not have babies with..." She flinches at that one. "That's not my life. That's not what I *want*." "So stubborn," she whispers under her breath. "Dana, you'd be safer." She chokes up on the last word. I knew it would come down to this. To the danger. To my work. To my sister. "I know what I'm doing," I tell her. It's not what I want to say. I want to tell her what he's really like. How he treats me. How I could never be safer with anybody else. But it's stuck in my throat like a bitter pill. Would he be ashamed of me? Would he think I'm ashamed of *him*? "Do you know what *he's* doing?" "Yeah, Mom. I do." I'm getting more angry than scared now. Adrenaline fills my body more and more the closer I get to being honest with her, to coming clean. "I know exactly what he's doing. I know exactly who he is to me, and I know exactly who we are together." She cups her forehead in her hand and closes her eyes. I take a calming breath and watch her. I give her several long, tortuous moments to calm herself. My stomach hurts. I need to get out. I wish he was here. Beside me. His strong, warm body close to mine. Even if he were silent...even if he never said a word to her...I'd know his strength and draw on it and this would be so much easier. I lay my hand on the cell in my pocket one more time willing it to ring. I gasp when she suddenly lifts her head and speaks. "And what about his family? Every time I ask, you avoid answering. You just change the subject. Is he hiding something? Why won't you tell me about them?" "I just...I don't understand why that's so important." "It matters, Dana. It matters where he comes from." "No, it doesn't. Mom, people aren't defined by their families. I guess maybe in your world they are. Maybe in his, too. But it doesn't matter to me. I..." "What?" she asks, color rising, eyes sparkling wet. "You love him?" She wipes at a tear that escapes and blinks the rest back. "Is that so horrible?" I ask, near tears myself. God, am I going to have to lead two lives? One where I love the man I feel I'm destined to love, and one where I come to family Thanksgivings without him and talk about...about what? My brother's son. Recipes. Oh this is so good, Mom, how on Earth do you get it so tender and who the fuck cares? "If it hurts my baby girl...then yes. It is." "It doesn't hurt me," I say, frustrated tears now falling. "That's not what I see when I look into your eyes...when I look at what's happened to your life." "What's in my eyes is hurt that I can't make you see...that you can't just trust me, Mom." She reaches out to me and I let her put her hand over mine, not knowing if I'm being weak or strong. I want her support, but if I don't have it, I can't help but think that her gesture is meaningless. "I just don't want to see you hurt," she says sadly. "Can I have your blessing?" I ask. She's quiet and I look up at her. Her bottom lip trembles and I have my answer. My cell phone rings and I take my hand away to answer it. "Scully." It's him. "Yeah... I want to see you... Yes, I'm leaving." I glance up at my mother feeling guilty and hurt and angry and worn out. "Yes, I want to. I'll be there soon." And then I hang up. "You're going?" she asks and I stand and start to pull on my coat. "Yes." "To see him?" "Yes." I don't look at her as I walk to the door. I open it. "I love you," she says. I swallow around the pain in my throat. I just nod, and then I walk out into the light rain. ............ He enfolds me in his arms when I walk into the motel room. It smells like old blankets and floral disinfectant spray. He smells...like hot rain and faint cologne. "Bad?" he asks. "No," I tell him, pushing him away even though it feels extraordinarily good to be held. "Not bad?" he asks. "Just...no. Okay?" He holds his hands up in uneasy apology for doing nothing wrong. "All right." He turns to watch me walk to the over-lit vanity. The rest of the room rests in darkness. "Do you want some soup? Something hot to drink?" I shake my head, planting my hands on the counter and letting my head drop heavy, the back of my neck stretching. "A shower?" he tries, voice low and compassionate. I lift my head and fix his eyes with mine in the mirror. I stare at him for several long seconds, listening to the rain coming down harder outside...to my own racing heart. Shutting off the voices in my head telling me everything's wrong with him, I look into his eyes. So brilliant emerald green. I see everything 'they' don't. I take a breath. "Fuck me, Alex." I drop my eyes, my arousal a painful, pounding, wet ache between my legs as I feel him come up behind me. He pushes my skirt up over my ass and bends me over the counter. I gasp, my arms reaching out in front of me to brace against the mirror. He rips my thong down my legs and my asscheeks quiver as he jostles me into position, widening my legs with his own, at the same time unbuttoning his jeans and freeing his cock. I rest my head against the formica, breathing hard, drenched for him. For Alex Krycek. He says nothing as he guides his dick to my pussy. But when he pushes it in I hear his breathy, low voice. "Unnngoddana..." He takes hold of my shoulders with both hands and slowly slides out of me. I feel every inch of him dragging out of me and I whine, new, different tears springing to my eyes. He thrusts back inside hard and fast. "Unnn!" I shout and briefly wonder how thin the walls are here. He starts fucking, slow but powerful, pulling back on my shoulders every time he goes inside. His cock burns its way up my pussy time and again and the counter top pushes my clit into his stroke. I lift my head and look into the mirror at him. His bottom lip is gripped between his teeth and his eyebrows are knit. He starts to take shorter, quicker jabs and I watch his mouth come open on an ecstatic moan, his freed lip wet and swollen. I tilt my ass up, squeezing my clit tight between the counter and his hard cock. I arch my neck, bending my knees a little, opening for him, feeling wanton and nasty and free. "Yeah..." he grunts, looking down at me, looking at where we're joined. I groan back to him. "H-Harder." He practically roars and starts slamming into me fast. I have to readjust my hands on the mirror and it squeals loudly in the small space. I feel his balls slapping against me, feel like my inner walls are on fire, being rubbed deliciously raw by the fuck. My legs start to shake. I feel my clit tighten. I hold my breath. And then... "Ohnoi'stoosooooonohGOD!" I come hard and long with him still fucking between my legs. "Alex...ohgodyeah..." His hands tighten on my shoulders and I lay my head down on the counter, barely able to hold myself in position now as he continues. But I hear the change in his breathing, hear his groans get more emphatic. "Shit," he gasps and then holds his breath. "Dana...oh fuck...UNNNNN! Unnnnnnn!" Then as a throaty whisper, "Oh yeah..." He takes several, slow, finishing thrusts, eyes shut, mouth slack, grunts soft and almost melodic. And then he pulls himself out with a hiss and a sigh and then opens dewy eyes to meet mine. He then drops his gaze to my ass, visually devouring it, and he reaches down to pull my panties back up my legs, situating the thin string between my cheeks gently, and then leaning down to place a soft kiss to one cheek. I stand up gingerly, smoothing my clothes and hair, as Alex tucks his softening cock back into his pants. I turn to face him. "Now?" he asks so tenderly it's barely audible. He holds out his arms in tentative invitation and I walk into them, relaxing completely into his soothing energy. They say he's a killer. Cold and remorseless. They say he's a rat bastard, a coward, a liar. I said those things once myself. It seems like a past life. So far we've come. "Alex?" I ask and his chest rumbles in answer. "I think I'd like that shower now," I tell him. He shifts against me and puts his lips to the top of my head. He kisses me, and then he speaks into my hair. "Okay, baby." I sigh and feel his arms loosen. I'm reluctant to leave his warmth now. But he walks around me and into the bathroom. I hear the water start, and then he comes back out to stand behind me. He wraps his arms around me again from behind and I lean my head back, closing my eyes. "You have the strength of your beliefs," he says and I nearly gasp, so similar it is to something I said to Mulder once. Except it's different. *My* beliefs. Not my mother's, or my father's, or Mulder's, or anyone's. Mine. "I love you," he tells me. And I don't nod. I whisper back. "I know." And then I turn in his arms for his kiss. End Note: Feedback is always treasured. I hope you don't mind that I pulled a little trickery with the whole mysterious pairing thing. I'd love to know what you thought. Please write me at shannon@hegalplace.com. My other addy, lmelao@earthlink.net, won't be around much longer! Thanks!!