Scully woke to the faint sound of rushing water. She stretched slowly, wincing at the soreness of her muscles. She stopped a smile before it could overtake her face. What she had done was wrong. Very wrong. She slept with Alex Krycek. She told him she was going to let him go, screwed his brains out, and came with his name on her lips. Then she fell asleep tangled in his arms.

She rolled over among the pillows. This was sooooo not good. She should grab whatever clothes she could find and run as fast as she could. The ache between her thighs was telling her to find Krycek and jump him again. Getting to her knees, Scully surveyed the room. Most of the candles were burned down to nothing, sunlight replacing the soft glow of candle light that had filled the room the night before. A bag of peas was sitting in a small puddle, and she wondered where her ice pack had gotten to. Krycek's sweats were still lying on the floor, along with her borrowed clothes. She pulled the t-shirt over her head. There was the scarf she'd tied him with, and peeking out from under one of the pillows was the vibrator she'd thrown at him. Who had a purple vibrator anyway?

Then it hit her. This wasn't Krycek's house. From the comfortable way he walked around, he obviously knew the place. So it belonged to a friend then, someone he knew well enough to be able to crash at their place. When she'd questioned his sexuality, it would have been easy for him to tell her it wasn't his purple house. But that's not what he did. He let her think it was his . . . to protect the real owner. The revelation washed over her, forced her to stand. Was he protecting this person because they were in it just as deep as he was? Or were they completely innocent? The idea that Krycek had regular friends threw her. Yet, he must have had friends before he became a traitor, a thief.

She put aside the train of thought and crept toward the stairs. She needed to get her clothes, and if he was in the shower, it was the perfect opportunity for her to slip away. If he saw her, he might not want her to go. He might keep her here as a hostage. Sex slave, her treacherous mind whispered. If she saw him, she might not want to leave. Images from last night kept flashing through her brain. Above her, below her, panting with desire, touching her like no one had touched her for so long. She had the sudden urge for a cigarette, even though she hadn't smoked since college. Clothes, she kept telling herself. Get clothes, get out.

She paused by the bathroom door before shaking herself and stepping into the bedroom. Her clothes were laid out on the bed, waiting for her. And that wasn't the only thing. A near empty suitcase lay open. Her eyes widened in shock at the contents. Three guns, and boxes of ammo. A switchblade and a hunting knife. A plane ticket peeked out of the lining at her. David Alexander was booked on a flight to Washington National. Against her better judgment, she turned away and picked up her clothes. She got dressed, trying her best to smooth out the wrinkles, when she caught sight of the laptop. Dear God, the information that could be on there . . .

Glancing around furtively, she flipped open the screen. A password dialogue box greeted her eyes. Shit. Well, she'd guessed Mulder's password before, hopefully Krycek was just as predictable as her partner. Somehow she doubted it, but it never hurt to try. Her fingers poised over the keys, she started to type . . . what? What did she know about Krycek? Other than the fact that he was great in the sack. Concentrate, Dana. She tried 'silo', but nothing. 'Paper clip'. 'Alexander'. Nothing was working. In desperation she typed 'Mulder', but was denied again. As she frowned at the screen, she became aware that the shower had stopped. Awareness prickled at the back of her neck, but before she could turn around, he spoke.

"The password's survive. But I wouldn't put too much stock in it. I change it every day."

His voice was surprisingly neutral. She considered saying that she was just trying to play solitaire, but there was no point. She'd been caught. She swiveled in the chair and almost groaned at the wave of arousal that washed over her at the sight of him. Damn. Why did it always come down to him in a towel? His eyes flicked to the undisturbed suitcase and returned to gaze at her curiously. It didn't look like he was going to dive for his weapons, so she relaxed slightly and got up.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"I said I would."

"Yeah, but people will say anything during . . . you know." At the reminder of last night he trailed off. The silence stretched out until she couldn't stand it anymore. Without even realizing it, she drifted closer.

"I won't tell anyone about the house. Your friend won't get any trouble from me," she guessed. Surprise, and then gratitude shone brightly in his eyes. He was close enough now that she'd be able to reach out and touch him. She wanted to. The urge was almost unbearable, especially with those bedroom eyes staring at her hungrily. She wondered if the look on his face mirrored her own.

"I better go."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moved. Scully could practically feel the electricity jumping between them. In that moment she knew that if he asked her to stay she'd say yes. The ache was turning into a demanding throb, her tongue was tingling with the desire to lick a path from his neck to his groin. She finally reached up and placed her hand on his chest, caressing lightly. His hand immediately covered hers.

"Scully, you know that what happened last night--I would never use it against you."

"Neither would I. But what I said still stands." If he broke his promise she would hunt him down. She'd arrest him if she caught him. He was still a criminal, and she was still a officer of the law. The sex didn't change anything. Liar, her brain whispered.

He nodded in understanding and lifted her palm to his lips. The tingling remained long after the tender kiss ended. She stepped dangerously close. Just one more touch, one more kiss, and then she could go. Reading her mind, he gathered her against his chest and sought her lips. His lips on hers were soft, giving. She gripped his arms, loving the play of muscles under her fingers as he held her tighter. A tiny sound caught in her throat and she tore herself away before she lost control again.

"I better go," she repeated mindlessly. The fervor of his gaze shocked her, but he let her brush past without objection. It took every ounce of strength in her body not to look back as she went into the hallway and down the stairs. She didn't want to see if he was following her, didn't want to see the smooth lines of his body, the way his tongue darted out to lick dry lips. She didn't want to remember the taste of chocolate and tequila on her tongue, the salty flavor of him hard in her mouth. With trembling hands she snatched the Virginia Slims off the side table and practically sprinted out the door. She could add stealing to the long list of her indiscretions.

Happy birthday, Dana Scully. Her birthday wish had certainly come true, but not in the way she'd meant.

Lips pursed, quick inhale. Give me the presence of mind to scream to high heaven if he comes anywhere near me. Quick exhale, watch the candle puff out. Happy birthday.

*******

Challenge Requirements:

Deadline is July 31st--the story must contain some or all of these elements

1.chocolate cake
2.plaid boxer shorts
3.a song by Sting, Heart, the Eagles, or Billie Holiday
4.a book entitled Astrology for Dummies
5.a lava lamp
6.a magenta or purple silk scarf
7.a tape or dvd of a Marilyn Monroe movie
8.a conversation about rainstorms
9.a plane ticket to get to Quantico
10.a pack of those 'girlie' cigarettes
11.an apple martini, a strawberry daiquiri, or a margarita
12.a magazine add or billboard about a sunny vacation spot
13.a drive along a coast highway
14.a flat tire
15.a notebook computer
16.this has to be included no matter what: a thin silver toe ring with a tiny ruby

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