Summary: Krycek discovers something he didn't know existed in the most unlikely place: the daughter of the enemy. Krycek/Marita, pre-XF.

SWEET SORROW
By: Bobbi
Keywords: Krycek. Marita. Krycek/Marita romance. Mytharc. Pre-
XF. Krycekfic. Maritafic. Spenderfic.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, they are not mine, even now that the
series has ended its run. However, they have become legends for
fanfic writers everywhere to further explore. The names you don't
recognize are mine; the ones you do, aren't.
Spoilers: General mytharc.
Summary: Krycek discovers something he didn't know existed in the
most unlikely place: the daughter of the enemy.
Rating: R for thematic elements... e.g. excessive language and
suggestive content.
Archive: Gossamer-yes, Ephermeral-yes, Ratcave-yes, others, ask.
Feedback: Is much needed, and I will love you forever if you send it
to me. Hey, maybe you'll be so lucky that you'll get a dedication on
my next fic! Please send to smberens1013@aol.com.
Author's Note: 1) Forgive me if I've made terrible fools of Marita
and Krycek by writing this, but I feel that there is a definite
chemistry there and I've been wanting to toy with it, so here goes
nothing. 2) If you like this, send me feedback and maybe I'll try
Marita/Krycek fic again. 3) This is first and foremost a
Marita/Krycek romance, but also intended to tie in some of the
mytharc holes. 4) Yes, this fic does rip off several elements of
Star Wars, partly because I'm so unoriginal. But, being the Star
Wars fan that I am, I am very aware of the parallels and couldn't
refuse the lure of using them. If you're the Star Wars fan I am and
pick up on the parallels, enjoy! The whole concept of Star Wars, and
the ideas, belong to George Lucas, not me. 5) This is the first
part in a series. I'm not sure how long it will be yet, I'm planning
on this being a trilogy, but it could be longer or shorter, depends.
Look for the next part soon. The creation of the next two parts
depends on the feedback I get. 6) This isn't meant to be a comedy,
but you may get a few laughs out of it. I know I did -- but then
again, I'm easily amused.
Dedication/Thank You: Sasha for helping me with Krycek's
characterization, which I terribly struggled with, and the parts
where I got stuck. Without you, I wouldn't have been able to do
this! You know who you are, and this is first and foremost for you!
Thanks to Deslea, and all the other Marita/Krycek writers over at the
Harem - without your encouragement, this wouldn't have been written.

***

"Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; this is not Romeo, he's some
other where." -- Romeo, William Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet"

***

"Kill him."
"Kill who?"
"Him," the eldest one said, laying a family photograph down on the
table of a young blond woman, a baby, and a father and mother. His
index finger rested on the image of the elderly man.

Your typical family -- but the thing that jumped out at the man whose
name was Alex was that the young blonde was particularly striking.
It wasn't something he could or would exactly dwell on, though.
There was no time for lusting after women in his line of work.

To anyone who might have been listening, it would sound quite
bizzare, frightening, shocking: three men plotting a murder. But to
them, it was an everyday experience, nothing out of the ordinary: men
involved in a deep conspiracy, the deepest of all conspiracies, three
men who would help to determine the fate of the world.

"I know it's not my place to ask, but why?" a young Jeffery Spender
spoke up, meeting his cigarette-smoking father's gaze. "Why him?"
"Andre Covarrubias," the Cigarette-Smoking Man drawled, looking
between his son and the other young dark-haired man. "He's a
problem."
"A problem, sir... how so?" Krycek inquired.
"In that we have credible reports that he's going to blow the cover
off all that we've worked for, alongside Bill Mulder."
"So what you're saying is he's going to break the pact and reveal The
Project," Krycek inferred matter-of-factly.
"Exactly," the old man responded, taking another long breath of his
cigarette.
"I guess that's good enough reason to dispose of him, then," Jeffery
relented with a sigh.
"I'd say," Krycek pitched in.
"So do it," the smoking man commanded.
"Now? Just like that?" Jeffery seemed almost nervous: definitely
reluctant to do it.
"Now," the smoking man affirmed.
"So we're just killing him in cold blood?" Jeffery further
questioned.
"Does that surprise you, my son?" the Smoking Man asked.
"It's for the sake of The Project," Krycek reminded Jeffery.
"Of course. For The Project," Jeffery reminded himself, trying to
convince himself that killing this Andre Covarrubias would indeed be
justified.
"You seem awful... hesitant," the Smoking Man said, stubbing out his
cigarette in an ashtray on his desk. "You have a problem with this,
Jeffery?"
"No... no problem with this, sir," Jeffery almost stammered.
"Of course there's no problem," the Smoking Man said, looking up at
the two younger dark-haired men. "I knew you two would carry out my
mission. Please understand, this is very important: no mistakes are
to be made. If Covarrubias slips out of our grasp, the results could
be highly damaging."

Krycek nodded and started out of the room, swallowing hard. This was
his first assignment on The Project to kill a man, and he wasn't
exactly looking forward to it. He preffered to refer to it
as 'elmination' himself... for some reason, the term 'kill' wasn't
something he liked to taste in his own mouth, much less a burden that
he wanted to carry around the rest of his life. He'd get used to it,
though. He'd have to, in his line of work.

He suddenly turned around, realizing he'd forgotten the most
important instructions.

"Sir," Krycek spoke, turning to face the Smoking Man. "Where is he
and how will I get there? It anyone else is with him, am I to
eliminate them, too?"
"Oh, that's the one thing I forgot," the Smoking Man said.
"Yes?" Jeffery asked.
"There's going to be a young woman. A blond."

Krycek swallowed hard. The young woman from the picture. Would they
have to eliminate her, as well? He hoped to God not. He wasn't sure
he could do that.

"She's about three years older than you, Alex, which makes her
twenty."
"Yes, and, what about her?"
"You're to bring her back here."
"For what, sir?" Jeffery spoke up. "Wouldn't it draw less attention
if we eliminated them both at the same time?"
"Who said anything about eliminating her?" the smoking man asked
them.
"Well, sir, I just assumed..." Jeffery began.
"In this line of work, you will quickly learn never to assume
anything," the Smoking Man snapped.
"So don't kill the young girl?" Krycek asked.
"No, don't kill her. Bring her here," the smoking man reitterated
his instructions.
"What about the rest of the family?" Krycek inquired further,
looking down at the photograph.
"They've already been taken care of."

***

"Alex?"
"Yes?" Alex Krycek asked, adjusting his sunglasses as he sat behind
the pilot's seat of the helicopter, speaking loud over the roaring of
the chopper.
"Do you feel wrong about this?" Jeffery Spender asked.

Krycek laughed. He actually laughed at Jeffery's question.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" he asked.
"Don't take it for more than its surface value, it's not meant to be
cryptic. I mean, do you feel wrong about what we're doing?"
"Well," Krycek started, sighing loudly, "I thought about feeling
wrong about this but then I realized I need to leave my conscience
behind or I'm never going to survive this job."
"How do you mean?" Jeffery questioned.
"I mean, I really don't need my conscience as my downfall when
there's so many other temptations out there that are much harder to
resist."
"Like what?"
"Women and money," Krycek laughed again.
"Now that you mention it, you're right," Jeffery laughed with
him. "I think I'd much rather have the cause of my downfall be women
or money than conscience."
"Atta boy," Krycek said, patting Jeffery on the back.

The small chopper swerved slightly.

"Keep your eyes, hands, and concentration on the controls!" Jeffery
ordered.
"Okay, daddy," Krycek said, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, shut up already, why don't you?"
"You order me around, you should at least expect a semi-witty
retort," Alex retorted.
"I wouldn't call it semi-witty; I'd call it stupid."
"Whatever. Just remember, I'm the one flying this chopper."

Krycek turned around to face Jeffery for a moment and grinned.
Jeffery shivered slightly: not jokingly, either. Alex Krycek
honestly scared him sometimes. Okay, more than sometimes. Most of
the time.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're going to be the death of me?"
Jeffery asked.
"Oh Jeffery, don't say that... you're the closest thing I have to a
brother."
"Then why don't you treat me like it?"
"I try, Jeffery."
"It doesn't seem like it sometimes."
"I do try, Jeffery."
"Well, try harder."
"I try as hard as I can, Jeffery."
"Sometimes, that's not good enough."
"Trying as hard as you can is as good as I can give, I'm afraid,"
Krycek replied.
"Smartass," Jeffery whispered under his breath.

Somehow, Krycek heard it.

"What was that?" he asked.
"Nothing," Jeffery said quickly.
"Oh yes it was. You just called me a smartass."
"I did nothing of the sort."
"You did so."
"So? I'll call you a smartass any time I please, smartass."
"Jeffery, Jeffery, Jeffery..." Alex chuckled. "I outgrew name
calling in second grade. When did you? Is it the most effective
method daddy taught you of trying to get to people?"
"I suggest you shut up, now," Jeffery said coldly.
"Oh? Why? Have you forgotten that *I'm* the one flying the
chopper? I really think you're the one that would want to be
shutting up about right here..."
"Make me," Jeffery challenged.
"What was that?" Krycek asked, feigning that he hadn't heard over
the roar of the chopper.
"I said, make me!" Jeffery yelled, leaning over and shouting right
in Alex's ear.
"Make you?" Krycek asked. His eyes flashed.

'Shit,' Jeffery thought for a second. 'What the hell have I just
done?'

All of the sudden, the helicopter began to descend toward the ground
at an alarming speed. Jeffery looked down, and saw that there were
several buildings in the area. Their speed seemed to be increasing
by the second.

"What the hell are you doing, Krycek?!" Jeffery demanded.
"I thought you told me to make you shut up!" Krycek laughed.
"I said, what are you doing!" Jeffery demanded.
"Yes, and I've already answered your question." Krycek took his
hands away from the controls and laughed again as they continued to
descend.
"Stop it!" Jeffery yelled. "Make it stop!"
"Why? Can't go crying to daddy now?" Krycek's laughing only grew
even louder.

Jeffery saw his life flash before his eyes before reaching over and
grabbing Krycek's wrist.

"Move it up! Bring us up! We're gonna crash!" he yelled.
"Peed your pants yet, Jeffy?"
"I said, MOVE IT UP!"

'Ah, shit...' Jeffery realized as Krycek pulled the copter up just
before they hit the tip of a high building. Krycek was right, he had
peed his pants. Why did Krycek always have to be right?

"Did you pee yourself, Jeffery?" Krycek asked as they finally
ascended to their normal altitude, looking over at the young man
Spender and smiling.
"Shut up, Alex."
"No, you shut up."
"Make me," Jeffery said.
"Listen, I don't think we really want to get into this again, do
we?" Krycek asked.
"No, I don't think we do..." Jeffery said, sighing and turning his
gaze out the window, turning his gaze to the land below them.
"Good," Alex said, another smile finding its way across his face.
"What are you so happy about?" Jeffery snapped.
"Oh, nothing."
"Oh, come on, I'm not an idiot."
"Your obvious discomfort amuses me."
"Are we there yet?" Jeffery asked, clearly agitated.
"Not yet. We will be soon, though."
"No more fancy flight tricks," Jeffery said it as a statement rather
than a question.
"No?" Krycek asked.
"No," Jeffery reaffirmed.
"Okay, then no more name calling," Krycek said firmly.
"Okay," Jeffery said with a sigh.
"Deal?" Krycek asked.
"Deal," Jeffery affirmed, patting his 'brother' on the shoulder.

***

"Are we there yet?" Jeffery whined an hour later.
"We will be soon," Krycek responded.
"But you said that forever ago."
"I lied then."
"What should make me think you're telling the truth now, then?"
Jeffery retorted.
"The fact that I'm the one behind the controls and you're the one who
shouldn't be testing me, because you're forgetting the power of the
pilot."
"So, anyway, just curious..." Jeffery began. "Where does this
embassy brat live?"
"I don't think it's too nice to refer to her as an embassy brat."
"That's what she is, though. Her father works for the United
Nations."
"That doesn't make her an embassy brat. I don't think it's nice to
stereotype."
"Okay, whatever. I don't see why you care, or why you're defending
her, anyway. You don't even know her," Jeffery said.
"So?" Krycek asked. "She's not here to stand up for herself, so
someone has to do it."
"If I didn't know better..." Jeffery replied, "I could swear someone
had a crush on Marita Covarrubias."
"Oh, shut up, I don't even know her," Krycek shot back.
"But, you saw the photograph."
"Yeah, so?"
"She's a pretty young thing."
"Doesn't matter," Krycek said gruffly.
"Oh, but I think it does, to you."
"No, it doesn't. I have no time for women."
"What about what you said earlier?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Women and money - your preferred downfall?"
"Just because they're my preferred downfall doesn't mean I'll be
drawn in by the lure."
"Oh, I have a feeling you will..." Jeffery said slowly.
"Really? Why is that?" Krycek glanced at him out of the corner of
his eye.
"Because, you're just not like the rest of us."
"What do you mean?"
"You're not strong enough, not committed enough."
"Does anyone else think this?"
"Oh yes, we all do," Jeffery lied.
"Well, you're all wrong," Krycek said arrogantly. "And I guess I'll
just have to prove you all wrong. As always, I'm always up for a
challenge."

He landed the helicopter and stopped: they had reached their
destination, the Covarrubias Estate.

***

"Papa?" the young, beautiful blond woman called from the west
balcony.

Had the wind really seemed to pick up, or was it just her? Did there
seem to be something... different in the air, or was it just her?
Did there seem to be a blanket of danger about to encompass them, or
was she just imagining it? Something just didn't seem right. She
couldn't place her finger on it. She had learned to be astute, and
that was the only thing that had allowed her and Andre's survival.
Survival of the fittest was not a new concept to her.

"Yes, Marita?" her father asked, strolling out on the balcony and
wrapping his arms around her. She was all he had left, and he was
all she had left. Still, the fact that she was the only person close
to him that remained, his remnant... it didn't excuse how
overprotective he had been of her lately, at least not in her mind.
She hadn't been allowed off of the grounds of the estate for three
months.

Her long red, gold-trimmed dress billowed in the wind.

"I miss her."
"Miss who?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Mama," she said slowly.
"I know. I do, too."
"Papa..."
"Yes, my daughter?"
"I can feel something."
"Feel... what?" he asked, releasing her from his embrace.

Marita noted that her father looked older and more worn than she'd
ever seen him. She didn't know how much more of this could handle
before the people he referred to as 'they' finally got him, and her.
She silently debated, for a moment, whether to tell him or not. Why
worry him anymore, when he was just growing weaker and weaker each
time? Why not give up? They were bound to get them, eventually.

They'd tried hard enough, and long enough. Marita knew that trying
anymore was useless. She felt it.

"Nothing," she said softly, gazing back out at the sky and the
oncoming storm.
"What?"
"Simply nothing at all."

***

"Krycek..." Jeffery whispered.
"Yeah?" Krycek whispered.

Things seemed so quiet, they could've heard a pin drop. They'd
killed the guard dogs, and two guards already, without getting
caught. Both of them knew, though, that Covarrubias Estate had a
complex, expensive, high technology security system, and that was
going to be the trick.

"When do we go in?"
"Is her father still out there with her?" Krycek inquired.

He hadn't seen either of them; just heard both of the voices. And,
naturally, he was intelligent enough to infer that the female and
male voice had been that of daughter and father.

"I don't know, but they're not talking anymore, if he is," Spender
spoke back using the same hushed tone.
"Well, we don't have any time to waste, that's for sure."
"Yeah... are you saying we should go for it now?"
"No, wait until I give you the go-ahead."
"Why do you always have to be the one to give the go-ahead?" Spender
snapped.
"Because I'm the one with the brains. You're the useless one who's
been sent along to distract them in the event that it's needed, so I
can kill Andre and get the girl. Besides, I don't always get to be
the one to give the go-ahead, this is the first time we've worked
together."
"Still..."
"Still what?"
"Why do you get the girl?"
"Because I'm the cute one."
"No, you just think you're the cute one..." Jeffery began.
"No, I know I'm the cute one," Alex cut him off. "And you know it,
too, you just don't want to admit it."
"Whatever," Spender muttered.
"Yeah, whatever is right. I know I'm right, and you know I'm right,
so it doesn't matter if you admit that I'm right or not, because we
both know it."
"Can we just kill the guy, get the girl, and be on our way?" Jeffery
grumbled.
"Oh, that's what I have every intention of doing..." Krycek
began. "But you must have patience, my child. Patience is the
key."
"Yes, oh wise one," Spender said sarcasticallly.
"Wise I am," Krycek stated.
"Wise you may think you are, but wise you are not."
"Wise I am, and wise I know you are not," Krycek dissed Spender.
"Whatever," Spender muttered again.
"Yeah, yeah..." Krycek said, stepping out of the shadow and looking
up at the balcony.

His breath momentarily caught in his throat as he saw the young blond
standing on the balcony. Surely enough, she was alone. And surely
enough, she was more beautiful in real life than she'd been in the
picture. The photograph hadn't done her justice, not at all.

Alex Krycek knew, at that moment, that his life would never be
complete until he had her, until he had Marita Covarrubias. It was
then that he mentally kicked himself, asking himself what the hell he
was thinking. He wasn't allowed to fall in love with his captive.
As a matter of fact, in his line of work, he shouldn't fall in love
at all.

Spender followed suit and stepped out behind Krycek. A low whistle
escaped from Spender's lips.

"The likes of angels have taken to that one," he whispered.
"Don't get distracted by her looks or anything else," Krycek
responded quietly, yet gruffly. "Remember what we're here for,
Jeffery."

***

The sound of breaking glass seemed to break the serenity and silence
that there always is before a looming storm.

"Jeffery!" Krycek exclaimed in a whisper. "How careless can you
be! I didn't tell you to break that window! There's much easier,
much more inconspicuous ways..." he sighed.
"We need to hurry! There's no time!"
"A rushed man is a foolish man!" Krycek retorted, shaking his head
and walking away from the broken window.
"What are you doing, you fool?!" Jeffery asked. "I've provided the
perfect entrance for us!"
"Perfectly obvious. Don't be a dolt."
"A *dolt*?!" Jeffery exclaimed. "I can't remember the last time I
was called a dolt. Maybe it's because I never was."
"Well, you can't say that you haven't been called one now, can you?"
"Russian bastard," Jeffery whispered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing."
"Good, that's what I thought, because we don't have time for name
calling right now."
"But *you*, Alex, just called me a dolt."
"I didn't mean that the no name calling rule applied to me, dear
Jeffery... only you."
"Do all the rules apply to only me?!"
"Don't be a little kid. We have important things to do.."

Krycek pulled out a lock pick as they stepped around to a side door,
picking the lock of the door. The door opened and groaned softly,
and Krycek threw on his ski mask.

"Jeffy, ski mask?" he reminded Jeffery.
"Check," Jeffery whispered, taking his out and putting it on.
"We're good to go, then," Krycek said softly, stepping in and not
bothering to shut the door behind them, because he figured it wasn't
worth it to cause even more of a disturbance.
"Good," Jeffery said. "To go, that is."
"Shut up," Krycek snapped.

***

"Marita," Andre Covarrubias said, stepping out on the balcony behind
his daughter once again. "Did you hear something?"

She turned to him, her eyes far away.

"Hear what, father?"
"Shattering glass?"

She'd heard it, of course, but she didn't want to worry him anymore,
and she didn't want to have to worry anymore, herself. 'We have to
give in now,' she told herself, 'Because they're going to get us
anyway, and sooner is better than later.'

"No," she said, turning away from him and looking up at the clouds
again. "I heard nothing."

The rain started to fall, and Marita just stood out in it for a
moment.

"Are you coming in, Marita?"

She paused a moment before turning around to face him.

"Yes, father," she said quietly.
"Very well," he said.

They entered the house together, and he closed the patio doors behind
them. The last time father and daughter would ever see that view
together... or, any other view, for that matter.

"Marita, are you sure you didn't hear anything?" Andre asked his
daughter.
"Positive."

***

"Freeze!" Alex Krycek yelled as Jeffery Spender and himself came
face-to-face with Andre Covarrubias in the hallway.

Marita heard the yelling from her bedroom, and quickly came running
out in a long, pink, silken nightrobe. Krycek's gaze wandered from
Andre to his daughter.

"Focus. On our mission, and nothing else," Jeffery Spender said as
he stepped out from behind Krycek, snapping Krycek back into reality.

Krycek aimed his gun at Andre.

"Who are you and what do you want?!" Marita exclaimed.
"Please, please don't hurt my daughter..." Andre pleaded with
Krycek, not at all worried about the barrel of the gun being held to
his own head. His first and only concern was his daughter; she was
all he had left.
"No one's going to get hurt if you just shut up and listen," Krycek
said calmly. He didn't realize he was shaking as he held the barrel
of the gun to Andre's head.

He'd never killed a man before. Could he do it?

"You won't do it," Marita Covarrubias said calmly and evenly as she
walked up behind her father, putting her hands on her shoulders.
"Back away, or I'll be forced to shoot you!" Krycek shouted.
"No, you won't," she said simply.
"Yes I will!" Krycek shouted, taking the gun away from Andre and
turning it to Marita to show that he was serious.
"You won't, because you can't," she said, perfectly calm. There
wasn't a trace of fear detectable in her voice, because she wasn't
scared.

She had nothing to lose and nothing to gain by dying herself.
However, she refused to stand there helplessly and let her father be
killed.

"Of course I can, and I will!" Krycek said, tightening his grip on
the trigger.

His eyes met hers. She had beautiful eyes. She was beautiful, in
every respect.

"You're too naieve," she began softly. "Too young, too blind, too
innocent. You couldn't kill me if you wanted to."

Her voice was soft, satiny. He liked the way it echoed in his ears,
and lingered like the scent of roses in the Spring.

"Shoot her," Spender muttered, elbowing Krycek.
"No," Krycek said, not tearing his gaze away from Marita's. "They
told us to bring her back alive, remember?"
"Who cares? She's getting in the way, so kill her," Spender replied.
"No," Krycek refused. "I won't. I refuse."
"I told you you wouldn't kill me..." she whispered, a small smile
playing at the corners of her lips.
"Embassy bitch," Krycek muttered under his breath, suddenly stepping
toward Marita, getting closer, if that was possible. Gun still in
hand, he put his hands on her shoulders, and Andre was almost sure
that the masked man was going to kill his only, precious daughter at
that moment. To Andre's utter surprise and bewilderment, the masked
man instead kissed her.

Rather than kiss him back, Marita Covarrubias slapped Alex Krycek as
hard as she could, stepping away and breathing hard.

"Sonofabitch," she whispered under her breath. "Burn in hell! Did
you kill the rest of my family, too?"

Krycek stared at her, wondering what the hell had come over her. One
moment, she'd been staring into his eyes, about to smile at him,
*flirting* with him, he could've sworn... and the next, she'd
*slapped* him away? Maybe she was one of those multiple personality
disorder chicks. Either way, that wasn't going to stop him. When
there was something Krycek wanted, Krycek got it.

"What the hell are you *doing*?!" Jeffery shouted at Krycek.
"I'm doing my assignment!" Krycek yelled, looking over at
Jeffery. "What the hell are you doing?! I don't exactly see you
taking any action!"
"Yeah, well, at least I'm not kissing the girl we're supposed to be
kidnapping!" Jeffery yelled back.
"Listen, I was trying to get the girl to *willfully* come-" Krycek
began.
"Oh, shut up, I don't even wanna hear it," Spender retorted. "*You*
just wanna get laid."

"Stop arguing like little children!" Marita suddenly shouted.

Three sets of eyes turned to her: those of Alex Krycek, Jeffery
Spender, and Andre Covarrubias.

"How dare she speak to us like that!" Jeffery began.

Krycek smirked.

"Daughter, silence yourself if you know what's good for you..."
Andre said, his eyes serious as they looked into his daughter's.
"These idiots don't even know what they're doing!" Marita exclaimed.
"Shoot her!" Jeffery commanded Krycek. He was getting quite
agitated with Marita: his agitation was only growing with each
moment.
"No," Krycek repeated. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much,
the thought of killing her. It did, though.
"You're..." Marita looked over at Krycek and Jeffery and shook her
head. "Dolts. Inexcusable dolts, both of you. Naieve dolts who
don't have a clue of what they're doing, sugar-coating yourselves by
pretending that you do, thinking you're all that, big macho men, when
*you* can't even pull the trigger of a gun."

Jeffery and Alex looked at each other. She'd called them both
dolts? Jeffery frowned, but Alex burst out laughing.

"What?" Marita Covarrubias frowned, crossing her arms over her
chest. When Krycek didn't respond, she inquired again, "What is it?
I don't understand, what's so funny?"
"You," Krycek said, still in a fit of laughter.
"Me? Well, I'm glad you find me amusing," she huffed.
"It's... it's not you, it's just... dolts?" he asked, still laughing.
"Yes, dolts, that's what you both are," she said matter-of-
factly. "What makes that so funny?"
"I never expected someone of your stature to use that word," he
replied calmly when he'd stopped laughing.
"I use whatever words are necessary in order to speak the truth,"
Marita said.

Andre slowly made his way over to the wall. If he just just make it
and kneel down to 'tie his shoe', he could trip the security alarm,
they could get help, and they'd be out of there...

"STOP!" Jeffery shouted as Andre Covarrubias kneeled down. He aimed
his gun at him and pulled the trigger, and the bullet entered into
Andre's vertebrae. He fell down, crying out in pain.
"Papa!" Marita shouted, tearing her gaze away from Alex and running
over to her father. "Papa..." she said softly, gathering him up
into his arms, oblivious to the fact that he was bleeding all over
her. "Papa, don't die on me, please..."

"What'd you do that for?!" Krycek asked Jeffery, his eyes showing
his anger.
"Because THAT, my forgetful friend, is what we were sent for!"
Jeffery retorted.

"Papa, don't die on me..." Marita repeated again, trying to get
some, any, response from her father.
"Marita..." he said softly, "Move. I'm going to ruin your
nightrobe."
"Oh, papa..." she said. Tears began to fall down her face. "Don't
die on me. Please. You're all I have left."

As Alex Krycek watched Marita Covarrubias cradle her dying father in
his arms, an incredible amount of sympathy for her washed over him.
She looked so helpless there, like a lost child... she'd lost
everything else, why did she have to lose this now, too?

"Papa... please answer me..." she begged of him.
"Marita... I love you," Andre managed.
"No, dad, don't..." she pleaded. "Don't, don't leave me here."
"I love you," Andre said again, smiling up into his daughter's eyes.
"No.." she said softly.
"You're just as beautiful as your mother... more beautiful," he said
quietly. "You're going to make one young man very happy one day.
Maybe someone you least expect."
"Papa, don't leave-"

She was cut off as his hand went limp in hers.

"Papa..." she whispered, still holding him in her arms. "No, no...
you can't... no!"
"Marita..." Krycek said, kneeling down beside her.
"You know my name," she began, her voice suspicious. "How do you
know my name?"
"I'm going to have to ask you to come with us," he said, taking her
hand in his.

For a second, she stared at her hand in his. She didn't slap it
away, because the gesture actually felt comforting, soothing. She
could tell that he actually felt remorseful. But soon, her moment of
realization was over.

"No..." she said, slowly moving her dead father off of her lap and
standing up, taking her hand away from Krycek's. "No, I'll never go
with you."
"It's not a question," Krycek said. "It's an order. I have my
orders, I must follow them."
"Then why don't you just kill me here?!" she retorted, her eyes
flashing.
"Please, we don't want to hurt you..." he begged of her.
"Of course you do! You'll hurt me, just like you hurt my father!"
"Marita, I promise you, we're not going to hurt you," Alex Krycek
said, his dark green eyes staring into the face of the daughter of
Andre Covarrubias. "We just need to... ask you some questions.
Then, you'll be good to go."
"Actually, you'll never go," Spender said as he stood up after
checking Andre Covarrubias' pulse to make sure that he was indeed
dead.

Krycek turned around for a moment and glowered at Spender before
turning back to Marita.

"Listen..." he said softly. "I need you to come with us."
"And if I don't?" she asked, crossing her arms around her chest once
again.
"You don't want to think about that," he responded.
"I don't have to think about that, because you won't hurt me," she
said calmly.
"What makes you so sure?" he asked.
"You had the perfect chance, and you didn't," she responded matter-
of-factly.

And, as she was the majority of the time, she was, once again,
right. There was just something about her: he couldn't hurt her if
he wanted to, or even had to.

"Marita..." he lowered his voice. "Please. It's not I who will
hurt you, it's my comrade."
"Let him do it, then. Wash your hands of me, the guilt won't be on
them," she responded, emotionless.

Krycek reached forward and actually began to wipe the tears away from
her eyes. She didn't slap his hand away, or make any attempt to move
away. She shivered slightly at his touch, though.

"Come, Marita, please..." he said softly. "If not for you, then,
for your father. He'd want you to be safe."
"He would, but I have nothing to live for," she said weakly.
"There's always something," he said.
"Resistance... won't work."

As Krycek looked at her, his fears were confirmed. Andre had indeed
shared knowledge with her. If They knew this, The People back at The
Project... surely, They would eliminate her.

"Marita... come with us."
"Come with us or else!" Spender demanded, aiming his weapon at her
forehead.
"Shoot me, I don't care," she continued tonelessly.
"Come on..." Krycek whispered into her ear.

Her fragerance seemed to match her perfectly, he noted. Strong, yet
delicate and fragile. Soft, but not too soft. It smelled like... a
refreshing, redeeming rainfall after a long, dry drought, and...

"No," she said flatly.
"I'm really sorry, I hate to do this, but..." Krycek, with one swift
movement, punched Marita, knocking her unconscious, but in a manner
that he was sure wouldn't harm her.
"What'd you do that for?" Jeffery asked as he looked at Krycek.
"Following orders. What were you intending on doing?"

Without waiting for Jeffery's reply, Alex slung Marita over his
shoulder and started outside.

***

Krycek took extreme care in loading the unconscious Marita
Covarrubias into the helicopter before they took off.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jeffery asked as Krycek loaded Marita
in.
"What do you mean, what the fuck am I doing? What the fuck are you
doing?" Krycek retorted. "We have orders. If we don't fucking
follow them, we're going to get ourselves fucking killed."
"She was being fucking impossible! Fucking uncontrollable, and if we
can't fucking get our job done-"
"Fucking enough use of the word fucking already," Krycek snapped as
he closed the door on his side of the helicopter. "Close your
fucking door, Jeffery."
"Shut the fuck up," Jeffery snapped back just before shutting his
door.
"Good little boy," Alex said sarcastically. "Now, let's fucking get
back to where we have to fucking go."
"Fucking okay," Jeffery responded.
"I hope you realize, little boy, that saying the 'f' word every other
word doesn't make you fucking cool," Krycek retorted as he looked
over at Marita before starting the chopper, brushing a loose strand
of blond hair out of her eye before beginning their ascent.

Jeffery ignored Alex's comment, rather than respond to it. He took
his ski mask off.

"Fucking put that back on!" Krycek shouted over the whirring of the
chopper.
"Why?" Jeffery asked.
"Because, if she regains consciousness anytime soon, we don't want
her seeing who we are!"
"Alright," Jeffery sighed, realizing that once again, Krycek was
right. He pulled his ski mask back over his head and looked over at
the unconscious Marita Covarrubias. "She's very pretty," he said
quietly.

Even though he said it very quietly, Krycek heard it. Maybe it was
Murphy's Law - whenever Jeffery said something that he knew Krycek
would have a fit if he heard, he was sure to hear it, no matter how
quietly he said it.

"I thought I told you we couldn't get caught up in that," Krycek
almost snapped.
"With all due respect, comrade, I'm not the one getting caught up in
that," Jeffery shot back, remembering when Alex had kissed Marita.
"Shut the fuck up," Krycek glowered.
"I'm not the one kissing her, and God knows thinking what else about
her-"
"You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss."
"Yeah, but that kiss was fucking *deep*, man..."
"Fucking deep? I don't recall fucking in front of you, Jeffery.
Wouldn't want you to wet yourself."
"That's not what I meant. I meant, that there was more into that
kiss than just any kiss..." Jeffery spoke, rolling his eyes.
"A member of the Syndicate... someone who works as we do... must not
hate, nor fear, nor love," Krycek said calmly. "And if that's what
you're afraid of for me... you're wrong. I follow the rules. I
won't stray. I'm all too well aware of the dangers."
"Unnecessary casualties, losing those you become attached to, even
losing yourself..." Jeffery said.
"I won't lose myself. You actually think I could ever love?" Krycek
laughed bitterly.
"I know you could love. Anyone could love. It's human nature to
love."
"Yes, but ninety-nine-point-nine percent of humans have faults. I,
however, do not."
"Are you saying you think you're perfect?" Jeffery asked
sarcastically.
"I'm saying, I know I'm perfect."
"Mr. Perfect..." Jeffery trailed off sarcastically with a snicker.
"Yep, that's my name, don't wear it out."
"So, what do you think of her?"
"Of who?" Krycek played dumb.
"Oh, you know who I'm referring to. The girl."
"I'm supposed to have an opinion of her?" he questioned.
"Well, you know, it just seemed like you did..."
"Why do you care?"
"I'm just asking. Just curious, that's all."
"Curiosity killed the cat, you know," Krycek always had a way of
changing the subject when he needed to. Jeffery hated him it:
Krycek considered it one of his most valued character traits.
"You know I'm not asking for one of your semi-witty retorts to avoid
an answer to the subject at hand," Jeffery sighed.
"I know, but it's all you're going to get."
"I'd just like to know what the truth is. What you think of her, you
know?"
"What I think of her?" Krycek asked, looking at Marita out of the
corner of his eye for a splitsecond and then turning his gaze to
Spender. "I think I have no opinion. It's not fair or right of me
to judge her. I don't even know her."

***

"She strikes me as... weak... helpless... totally dependant on
daddy."
"An hour ago, you were bitching about her being fucking impossible,"
Krycek reminded Spender.
"It's my personal experience and belief that you can be fucking
impossible and fucking dependant at the same time," Jeffery said,
smirking.
"I suppose you're right..." Krycek said, tilting his head, as if
considering the matter at hand.
"Of course I am," Jeffery responded.
"For once," Krycek then added.
"I think she's weak, though..." Jeffery began. "She'll be easy to
control once we get back. She'll be docile, quiet, weak... she's
lost her father, we've broken her. She'll play right into our
hands."
"What makes you think that?" Krycek questioned, keeping his gaze
focused on the terrain below them.
"She seems very... family-oriented. Now, she has none left. She'll
have to turn to someone."
"And what makes you think she's gonna turn to us?" Krycek asked
Spender. "You saw how she treated us in there. That wasn't what I
would call submissive."
"No, but she'll be submissive if she's made to be submissive."
"How do you mean?"
"She doesn't want to die. Her father didn't want her to die. She'll
respect his wish. In order to respect his wish, she's going to do
whatever it is that has to be done."
"You honestly believe she's going to cooperate?"
"If she has no other choice, yes."
"Maybe, maybe not..." Krycek's voice trailed off.
"Not maybe, yes."
"Time will tell."
"I'm telling you, Alex, we have nothing to worry about."
"Never judge a book by its cover," Krycek said quietly.
"What?" Jeffery asked, honestly confused.

Krycek didn't reply.

"What?" he asked again. "What are you trying to say?"
"Just what I said," Krycek replied simply.
"Don't be so fucking cryptic..."
"Don't be so fucking stupid."
"I think she's going to be the classic damsel of distress when we
reach the compound," Jeffery continued.
"Damsel in distress?" Krycek burst out laughing.
"What?" Jeffery asked, frowning.
"I'm sorry... but she doesn't strike me as a damsel in distress, at
all."
"Why not?"
"Because she just... doesn't. And I think if you make the mistake of
underestimating her like that, then... you just might pay for it."
"I'm not underestimating her. You're overestimating her."
"Alright, Jeffy. You think whatever you'd like to think, I think
whatever I want to think. Just keep it in the back of your mind -
I'm right and you're wrong. That's how it always is."

***

"Are we back yet?"
"Stop whining," Krycek responded sharply.
"I'm not whining! The blond bitch here is infringing on my space!"

Krycek looked at the unconscious Marita Covarrubias, her head on
Jeffery Spender's shoulder. For some reason, he didn't like that
sight. Ever so carefully, he reached over and tilted her head to his
direction.

"Not anymore," Krycek said.
"Still, she's squishing us, and -"
"If you're being 'squashed', Jeffery... pay a visit to fucking Jenny
Craig when we get back."
"She's the problem," Jeffery said.
"Jeffy?"
"Yeah?"
"Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Being the fucking stupid bitch you've always been."

Jeffery sighed and decided to shut up: at least for the moment.
Krycek's semi-witty retorts were getting to him.

"Do you think they'll... eliminate her?" Krycek asked Jeffery, out
of the blue.
"I don't know..." Jeffery replied honestly, his voice trailing
off. "If she won't cooperate, possibly, although I don't foresee any
problem with that, as I told you before. She's going to cooperate
perfectly, carefully, and quickly - if she wants to live."
"And, if she doesn't?"
"Then, there's no use for her."
"If her father told her everything, though... and if she's half as
intelligent as her father and won't threaten to reveal the
information like he did... maybe she could work with us."
"Work with us?" Jeffery asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.
"Yes, work with us."
"We don't have any women working with us."
"Well, there's a first time for everything, isn't there?"
"I suppose..." Jeffery started uneasily. "But I honestly don't
think we're going to have any problems with her."

Marita felt it safe to open her eyes the slightest bit. Their
conversation over the past few hours, she had found quite amusing.
They seemed like feuding queens... or perhaps it was a couple of ex-
lovers. The green-eyed one, though, didn't strike her as being gay,
not ever. Not with the way he looked at her. And she knew, if he
continued... if he was just like the others, then she'd have him
wrapped right around her little finger.

"But you realize, even if we don't have problems with her, and Andre
told her nearly as much as we fear he did... that would be a problem,
anyway. We could never let her out of our sight because of the
threats that would remain..." Krycek spoke.
Jeffery nodded slowly.
"So otherwise... she's doomed. To death, becoming our prisoner, or
the subject of eternal surveillance," Jeffery concluded.
"Basically," Alex replied.
"What a waste... someone like her, she could've become Miss America."

That was the last straw for Marita. Her eyes snapped over, and she
reached over, her hand balled into a fist, and punched Jeffery
Spender as hard as she could. He saw stars just before everything
went black.

"Teach him a fucking thing or two," she said calmly, coolly.
"Marita?" Krycek asked in disbelief.
"Yes?"
"I think we just might get along..."

***

"So, what?" Krycek asked, looking in on the glass room. He knew
that although he could see her, she couldn't see him.
"We've tried, and we've tried, and we've tried," the greying man
said, stubbing his cigarette out with his foot as he dropped it.
"And she still won't talk?"
"No. Not at all. We haven't gotten a thing out of her."
"Fucking stubborn bitch," Jeffery spoke up.
"Jeffery..." Krycek said quietly, shooting him a warning look. "She
won't tell you anything?" Krycek asked the Smoking Man again.

He couldn't and wouldn't let her do this to herself. He wouldn't sit
around and let her sign her own death warrant, because he knew that
that was what her silence was.

"Nada," he said. "Zilch, zero."
"Well, let me talk to her," Krycek said, stepping away from the
Smoking Man and Jeffery Spender.
"No," Jeffery said, grabbing Krycek by the arm. "What do you think
you're doing?"
"Saving that woman's life," Krycek said, his eyes daring Jeffery to
challenge him as he began to walk away again.
"What's he..." Jeffery asked bewilderedly, turning to his father.

The Smoking Man shrugged.

"Let him. Let him try to do what can't be done. He's wasting his
time."
"Dad..." Jeffery began. "There's something I think you should
know. When we went to... assassinate Andre, I think that Alex
developed a rather soft spot for Marita."
"How do you mean?"
"He grew to... like her. He feels something for her."
"Feels something like what?" He took another Morley cigarette out
and lit it.
"You know, those things are going to give you lung cancer one of
these days."

The Smoking Man laughed.

"At your age, I would've said the same thing, son."
"And you wouldn't anymore?"
"No, because I'm not the same naieve young man you are now. Death is
something that cannot be stopped."
"Yes, but it can be stalled."
"I'd rather die of lung cancer than be a slave to these aliens that
we cannot defeat."
"Cannot defeat?" Jeffery's forehead creased in confusion. "Correct
me if I'm wrong, but I thought that's what we were working for."
"Stalling. That's what we're working for, Jeffery. That's the only
thing we have a ghost of a chance at."

***

"Marita..." Alex closed the door behind him and locked it.

There would be no distractions. He had to get her to talk. *Had*
to... there were no other options. He wasn't leaving until she
talked.

He smiled slightly before going over and sitting across from her.

"Oh great, another mystery man who knows my name," she said flatly.
"No..." he shook his head vigorously. "I'm Alex, from the chopper.
Remember?"

She looked up, and, meeting his gaze, smiled slightly.

"Hello, Alex."
"Hello, Marita," he said, reaching across the table and taking her
hand in his. "Listen..." he lowered his voice. "I need you to
trust me."

She took a deep breath, and looked at her hand in his.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," she shook her head slightly.
"You're going to have to," he said evenly.
"Why?"
"Because they're going to kill you if you don't talk."

She paled slightly.

"I... I don't want to die..."
"I know, and I'm seeing to it that you don't. But, I can't do
anything if you won't talk to me and trust me."

He stroked her hand. She found the gesture oddly comforting by a man
she knew had been involved in her father's death.

"I don't want you to die, either," he finally broke the silence.
"I can't trust you, though. I can't trust anyone here."
"You have to."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because my father told me not to."
"But your father, Marita... he'd want you to live."

He tightened his grip on her hand, looking into her eyes all the
while.

"They'll kill me if I tell you what I know, anyway," she said
softly, staring back into his eyes.
"Marita, listen, I really don't want you to die. You're a beautiful,
intelligent, promising young woman, and although you may not believe
it, it would... hurt me... to see anything happen to you."
"I didn't know your people felt," she shot back.
"We're not supposed to, but..." he resumed stroking her
hand. "Sometimes, I can't help but feel."
"I have to give you credit."
"For what?"
"If this is an act... it's pretty convincing."
"This is no act. When I first saw you, there was something..."

She swallowed. He was telling the truth. He did feel... something.
Would she ever be able to accept that he felt something? Would she
ever be able to accept him, when he had been involved in the death of
her father?

"Something different about you from everyone else I've ever known,"
he added slowly. "A good kind of different, of course. You just...
you stuck out. You've been on my mind ever since. For anything to
happen to you would hurt me."
"Not as much as I've been hurt," she retorted.
"Ms. Covarrubias," he said softly, "Don't think I haven't
experienced my own share of loss in my lifetime."
"What kind of loss?"
"I lost my father, myself," he said truthfully.
"How?"
"The same way you did."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I have to be. Like you, I don't want to die."
"Will they give me that opportunity?"
"Possibly. Only if you tell them, though, what you know. Otherwise,
you're..." he moved his hand across his neck in a death
gesture. "Fucking screwed."
"Well..." she chuckled slightly, trying to bring light to the
situation. "That's fucking comforting."
"Of course," he chuckled, too.

She seemed to make him feel... more comfortable. He was the only
person that he could be himself around. But then, when he was around
her, he also felt as if he lost a part of himself.

"So," he cleared his throat. "Are you going to trust me?"
"It's not you, I just don't feel like I can trust anyone..." she
spoke softly.
"Marita, please. I'm trying to save you here, we've discussed this-
"

She let out a deep breath, and he could tell she was considering what
he had said, realizing the reality of the situation, and realizing,
as well, that he was telling her the truth. Trust, or death. Tell
them what she knew, or be a martyr for it. Possibly be a martyr even
if she told them, but it least it would increase her chances if she
told them.

"They've been here..." she began quietly. "They've begin here since
the very dawn of time, before mankind. They... they were the
original inhabitants of this planet. We evolved from them. That's
why we have this... inactive, junk DNA. Because in essence, they are
part of us. In reality, we are them... partly. And soon, we'll be
nothing more than a slave race."

Shit, this was exactly what he had been afraid of. She knew. She
knew more than they would ever let her get away knowing. They'd
eliminate her, surely... if he couldn't convince them of her worth.

"Why will we be nothing more than a slave race?" he asked slowly,
even though he already knew the answer.
"Because colonization is coming, it's inevitable. There's nothing we
can do to stop it. We can't defeat them. Once again, this planet,
and within a brief time, I theorize, the whole universe... will
belong to them."

***

CONTINUED IN PART 2