Mary Sue

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Krycek woke to the feel of cold steel snapping tight around his wrists. Panicked, he tried to raise his head,
groaning at the pain this action produced. One of his ribs was definitely bruised, if not broken, and the
rest of his body throbbed with a burning ache. He tried to move, but found himself cuffed tight to the
posts of a narrow metal bed in a small dark room. Peering into the dimness around him, he saw, to his
astonishment, not Mulder, not Skinner, not even one of the nameless thugs who routinely brought him
to such surroundings, but a girl. A pear-shaped, fat-cheeked, frizzy-haired, decidedly un-dangerous
looking girl.

"What the hell?" he croaked.

She flinched, then squinted at him from slightly crooked eyes. "Damn. You weren't supposed to see
me. But don't worry, I'll be out of here in just a few minutes." She smiled at him, an oddly cheery
smile given that she had apparently just cuffed him to a bed.

"Who are you, and what are you doing?" he hissed at her.

"Oh, you wouldn't know me," she said with a dismissive wave of the hand. Then she checked the
cuffs, tightening them until they bit into his chafed wrists.

"Ow!" he said. "If you don't know me, why are you doing this?"

"Well, it wouldn't usually be, you know, *me* who did this part," she said, a little abstractedly, "But
I didn't have time for exposition this time round."

"Exposition?"

"Yeah, you know, *who* kidnapped you, and why, and where they took you and how they
tortured you and all that... usually I'm pretty thorough about that part of a story, the motivation
and set up and everything, but this one is kind of a quickie. A challenge, you know. So I just
have time for a few atmospheric details, which I'm going to have to take care of myself." She
cupped his face, then backhanded him a couple of times until he felt his lip split and blood begin
to trickle down his chin.

"There, that's nice. I always wondered about all the bleeding mouths in slash, you know - too
freudian for words, in my opinion - but I have to admit, it kinda does it for me, too." She
smiled at him again, and affectionately patted his cheek with one fat little hand. "Anyway,
Mulder will be here any minute for the rescue and the hot sex, so I should go."

'Mulder?" he said.

She frowned a little. "You'd rather Skinner? I've paired you with him a couple of times - that
story where I made you nearly died of pneumonia, and then the one three stories before that,
where I had you working as a hustler, who was then abused by a psycho john, but I don't
think it was my best work. I'm not as into that daddy thing as some of the girls. I like you
better with Mulder - all that angst and conflicted feeling."

Krycek was now certain he was dealing with a madwoman. "Um, sure, Mulder is fine," he said,
trying to gather his scattered wits, "but wouldn't it all be easier, since you know he's on his
way, to uncuff me and we could go meet him or something?"

She laughed, then, puffing a little as she maneuvered her round body, sat herself on the floor
where she could look him in the eye.

"Oh, dear, you must think I'm the most horrible person, putting you through all this. But
really, I don't *want* to hurt you. That's not what I'm here for." She reached over and patted
him on the shoulder, making his injured rib stab with pain.

Krycek groaned, and said, "Then why *are* you hurting me?"

She continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "Really I just want to take care of you, you know,
hold you and tend to your wounds and comfort you and let you cry in my arms. Or in my
arms by proxy, at any rate - I can't imagine that even a brutal beating would make my own,
actual arms all that appealing to you. I just want to *love* you!"

Head spinning, Krycek stared at her. She was looking at him brightly, as if she had just
explained everything.

"But why," he rasped, "why, if you want to - to *love* me - why the pneumonia, and abuse,
and - and all *this*?" he rattled the cuffs at her.

She smiled at him, the kind of indulgent smile you might aim at a dim but loveable child. "Well,
silly, how can I comfort you if you haven't been wounded? What use is hovering about with
bandages and nourishing broth and advice and maybe some hot comfort sex - not with me,
don't worry - if you're hale and hearty and perfectly healthy? Fat lot of use I'd be then,
wouldn't I? And a girl does like to feel useful, you know..."

Her smile faltered for a moment, and she tightened the cuffs a little further. Then there was a
faint noise from somewhere outside the room, and she jumped and rose ungracefully from
the floor. "That'll be Mulder overpowering the guards now. I've gotta run."

"Wait!" said Krycek, but she was suddenly and mysteriously gone.

Then Mulder was kicking in the door. "Oh my god," he said, looking at Krycek on the bed,
"Who did this to you, Krycek? Not even scum-sucking vermin like you deserves to be so
brutalized!"

"There was this girl - this fat girl with funny hair - and she said that -"

"Stop talking, Krycek," said Mulder, suddenly gentle, "I think you have a concussion. God,
seeing you like this, all helpless, makes me realise what I really feel about you. I don't hate
ou after all, Alex, I -"

Krycek groaned, and closed his eyes.

.back.