Summary: Christy's Secret Santa present for Shahara Zade, Krycek/Marita.

Title: Let Me Drown
Author: Shahara Zade's Secret Santa
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, they just make a lovely present
Spoilers: myth arc spoilers for Season 6 and 7, up to and including Requiem
Author's Notes: I tried to write Ms. Phoebe Green but she would not stay in my brain long enough. I'm a great fan of how you write both these characters so I hope you will enjoy this. Happy Holidays!



As they drove away from the Smoking Man's apartment he felt as though the worst of it was behind them. Things would still be rough but he
hadn't felt this hopeful or cared this much about
anything in years. He looked towards where Marita sat in the passenger's seat, hoping to see
the same look on her face. Her face was mostly hidden under the dark veil of the car's interior and what he could see of her face was without
expression or any sign of light. She looked like a statue and he was scared to touch her for fear that she would be as cold as one.

They drove until they reached Delaware where he
checked them into a small hotel room. She went straight to bed and slept for the better part
of two days. When she finally awoke she took a long shower and then curled herself in a chair and read from a book that someone must have
left in the room. He didn't need to watch her to know that she wasn't even bothering to turn the pages. She had looked more alive when they had
run into each other at Fort Marlene and he couldn't imagine what the Smoking Man had done to her to break her more completely then the tests
performed on her had.

On the fourth night she began screaming in her sleep and had only stopped when he held her and stroked her hair for half an hour. He kept
himself wrapped around her for the rest of the night, trying to break through her shell with nothing stronger then his fervent hope that she would return to him soon. She awoke around six am, only long enough to shrug away from his arms and go back to sitting in her chair. He sat in bed and did nothing but stare at her for a good hour. He realized in that hour that some part of him honestly thought they would be able to get
through anything. They could lie to each other, hand each other over to the enemy, inflict the worst sort of betrayal on the other but somehow he still thought at the end of it they could still find each other and still be happy. Now they sat together having sent the devil to hell
together and he had never felt farther away from her.

He got up eventually and took a walk. He walked for two hours, not looking at anything or paying attention to where he was going. This was supposed to have been the start of something of better and instead he had never felt more lost. He knew he could leave her and things would turn
out fine for his plans. Everything was set in place and he could easily find another person with all the skills she possessed. He had left her before, he had looked her straight in the face, seen her sickened eyes, discolored skin and limp hair and had walked away with barely a lump in his throat. But this was different, to leave her now the way she was would be unthinkable and would make him the monster so many were convinced he was.

He walked back to their hotel room and once inside he stood over her chair.

"Marita?"

He spoke as softly and as gently as his voice
remembered to go. She said nothing and acted as if he hadn't done a thing.

"Marita?"

He spoke louder this time, a tinge of anger in his voice. She continued to sit there, eyes unmoving.

"We need to talk, Mar."

He stood there, waiting for something, some sort of response. When none was given he knocked the book out of her hand. She finally looked up at
him but her eyes reminded dead. He would have loved to have seen anything in them, a look of pure hatred at that point would have warmed his
heart. He needed her then, more then he ever had. He needed her kicking and screaming at him or holding him close and kissing him softly or all
of that at the same time. She did none of that but instead looked away from him and stared at the floor.

Alex had never felt more furious in his life or more consumed with so much pain. It was as if he felt not just his emotions but everything she
was supposed to be feeling. Grabbing her by the
shoulders he pulled her up so that they were standing face to face. She tried to move her head
to the side but he put his hands on both sides of it and forced her to look at him.

"No more of this, Marita. Party's over and it's time to rejoin the rest of us."

She gave no response other then to stare at him with her cold, clear eyes. Something inside him broke and choking out a sob he fastened his
lips on hers. He kissed her hard enough to bruise both their lips and didn't let up until he was gasping for breath. When he pulled away he saw
a look of pure shock written on her face. His victory over cracking her mask of stone filled him with a rush of emotion. He kissed her again
and though she made no move to touch him he wrapped his arms around her body and began to move his lips down her neck, biting her gently where her neck and shoulder met.

His anger soon became intermingled with his desire to be with her. He needed to touch her everywhere at once and he wasn't going to wait.
Pulling her over to the bed he shoved her down and resumed his slow and brutal exploration of her body. She remained motionless and made no sound until he fastened his lip over her left nipple, and even then she only gasped. He lifted her shirt up and removed her pants and undergarments, all the while trying to keep his lips on her at all times. He needed to taste her and devour her whole. When she was naked before him, he pushed her legs apart and bent his head between them. As his tongue made contact with her nub she began to moan softly and he could feel her hands begin to grip the sheets. Her moans became like fingers gliding over his skin and his arousal was like none he had ever felt. He wanted to erupt right there and at the same time he wanted to stay in this state until he had broken her and put her back together whole.

His fingers joined his tongue and when he pushed one inside of her, her moans became cries. He stroked her insides until he was certain both of
them would go mad if he did not push further. He sat up and pinning her arms to her side he prepared to enter her. When he was just about to
push inside, she called out his name and he was sent straight over the edge. He slammed inside of her and rode her hard until she came in a
torrent of screams and cries. He followed soon after her and when he was spent he collapsed on top of her.

After a minute or so she began to sob and the noise broke through the fog that had encircled his brain. He pulled his head up and looked her
straight in the eyes. Her eyes were like two
bottomless holes of pain and one glance at them almost killed him. He shut his eyes tight and
kissed her. She kissed him back and it felt better then anything else she could have done to him. They were both crying by the time their lips
parted and she fell into hysterical sobs he held her tighter.

"I love you, I love you so much, I love you," he kept muttering in her ear until the words bled together and became a mumbled tune of pain and
longing.

She cried herself to sleep and when he was certain she wouldn't pull away from him he allowed himself to sleep as well.

The next morning they awoke around the same time. He said nothing and she began to talk. She spoke for three straight hours of everything that had been done to her, the tests, the torture, how
each day bled into another and by the end she hardly knew who she was. The Smoking Man had done what his son had been unable to. He had freed her and she had gone, giving herself freely to an enemy that would hurt her with words in places no needle could puncture.

"When he crashed to the bottom of the stairs, I was finally able to breathe again. It felt like I finally had all of myself back and I didn't know what to do. It was supposed to feel right but it
was so overwhelming it felt wrong," she whispered the words into her pillow, her hair falling over her face.

He brushed her hair away, "You don't need to explain yourself."

"I want to. I need to talk."

For the next few hours they both talked. They talked of each other, said things they would never admit to when they finally got out bed,
spilled secrets that might one day use against each other. They talked until their voices gave out and then they made love. It was slow and
gentle and all the things it never had been before and never would be again.

They showered together the next morning and checked out of the hotel before noon. They were driving to New York. Alex had some people he
needed to meet there; they needed to start organizing things, especially with the news that Mulder had gone missing. They were an hour away from New York when Marita asked that they stopped for the night. She was still quite pale and Alex didn't want to push her so they checked into
the nicest hotel they could find along I-95 in that part of New Jersey. She fell asleep almost instantly and he followed soon afterwards.

It didn't surprise him the next morning to wake up to an empty room. The only surprise came in that she had left a note on the pillow.

I'll meet you back in Washington. I need some time.

Yours,
M.

He folded the note up and packed his things. He'd
miss her but he wasn't worried. They had used in each in the worst way for most of their relationship and in the best way for the past week.

She'd find him when she needed to.

END