Summary: Deslea's rec: "Krycek/Marita at its bittersweet best. Strong characterisation and some small background insights that count for a lot." Prequel to The Fugue, but stands alone.

Title: Pas De Deux
Author: CGB
Email: luberluber@yahoo.com.au
Web: http://Apelsini.tripod.com/Christine/
Feedback: Is a good thing.
Archive: So too.
Spoilers: Requiem
Category: K/M
Disclaimer: No one who writes anything as bad as
Surekill deserves these characters.
Summary: Krycek and Marita run from the scene of the
crime. A prequel to my other Krycek and Marita fic
?The Fugue? but an independent story in its own right.


*

He held her hand.

They moved fast without actually running. He couldn?t
remember how or where but he?d taken her hand in his.
It felt small, fragile.

?We need a car,? she said, and she looked around as if
choosing from the selection parked in the street, ?I
don?t suppose you learnt how to steal a car in
prison??
She is matter of fact, business like. Unfazed by the
events of the past hour.

?In Tunisia??

Her hand was still in his. It had begun to feel warm
where they were joined.

She nodded curtly, thoughtfully.

?A taxi will do.?

They moved up the street still walking fast,
occasionally glancing behind them to check for cabs in
the opposite direction and god knows what else that
might be following them. He knew she carried a cell
phone but they couldn?t risk that.

?We?re too conspicuous,? she said eventually.

?There?s no one out here, Marita, they?d have come by
now if there were. God!? He paused and looked down at
his hands, ?I need a cigarette.?

She blinked at him and let go. Instantly he missed the
pressure. The feel of her. He hadn?t known she could
be like that. Delicate. It was insane to think of her
like that now. It was all insanity.

?I didn?t think you smoked,? she said.

?Remember that prison in Tunisia?? he growled. He was
feeling explosive. They really needed to get out of
there. He lit his cigarette and savoured long puffs.

He checked the street again and was relieved to see a
cab heading towards them. She was already out on the
street waving her hand.

In the cab they were silent. Krycek checked the
driver?s ID for clues that he might not be the person
his picture said he was. They knew all the tricks, all
the tell tale signs of fake identifications and
manipulated pictures, and precaution was a habit, but
they weren?t always going to spot the delusion.

Krycek gave the driver the benefit of the doubt and
told him to take them to a part of town where they
could find a car rental.

Half an hour later were let out on the street next to
two car rentals vying for attention across the road
from one another.

?Do you have a driver?s licence?? he asked her. She
nodded and searched through her purse. She retrieved
three plastic cards and looked at each thoughtfully.

?I?m not sure whether these are safe,? she murmured
more to herself than to Krycek.

?We don?t have much choice,? he grumbled, ?besides,
the cabbie will get them this far.?

*

Krycek was thinking of black oil. He was thinking of
how it felt to be taken over like by liquid death. The
invasion had been so detestable to his system that he
had tried to stop breathing in order to resist?s its
infiltration. It had been inside him and inside Marita
only he never understood which strain was which and
why either of them was still alive. She said they had
a cure but a cure for what and for who was the real
question and neither of them had an answer.

He thought about being alone with it in a darkened
chamber in Area 51. For a while there, he really did
think his sole purpose to the Consortium might be to
keep this thing company while they had it under lock
and key. He always knew he was a pawn to them but the
reality of being so callously used was destroying and
emptying.

He remembered meeting a very beautiful Special
Operative called Marita Covarrubias with her own
agenda and a head full of ideas and deviations. They
pulled him out of the holding chamber and sent him
straight to her. She?d immediately berated the other
operatives for not having fed the prisoner and sent
them off to find him food.

?Get him some clean clothes too,? she added as an
afterthought. She sat him in a chair and poured water
for him from a glass pitcher.

?Alex Krycek, I?m Marita Covarrubias, Assistant to the
Special Representative of the Secretary General.?

He thought the title impressive but didn?t have the
strength to say so.

?I have an assignment for you from the Consortium.?

He coughed in disbelief. She picked up his water
glass and handed it to him again.

?I know. I know you think you can?t trust them and
you?re right. You can?t. But you can?t trust anyone
really, surely you were around Fox Mulder long enough
to learn that.?

She placed a file in his lap.

?You don?t have to read it now. You can eat first,
clean yourself up. We have somewhere for you to stay
you know. How?s your Russian? You will need some
practice I think.?

He stared at her. His throat was dry and he could
barely focus. The water did little to help.

?You know this isn?t a choice.?

He knew. But it didn?t stop him thinking that he
should just tell her no and let her shoot him there
and then.

?You?re problem is that you?re still thinking this is
about your employers, isn?t it??

She moved away and leaned against the desk once more.
Her posture afforded him a pleasant view of her legs
but he expected she knew that. He wasn?t in the mood
to be seduced but he figured she knew that too. There
wasn?t anything about Marita that suggested she did
anything unconsciously.

?Have you thought about what it could do for you??

She looked him in the eye and then nodded at the
folder on his lap.

?Open it,? she instructed.

He did as he was told. His shaking hand opened the
cover to a page containing details of his family?s
immigration to the States, his father?s civilian
position at the Department of Defence and his own
education and training at the Bureau.

?Those are the official details of course. We both
know there?s a lot more to your father?s file than
what?s written there but we also know there?s only one
way you?re going to get your hands on the real
information.?

He sneered. She folded her arms across her body.

?Well,? she sighed, resigned. ?It?s not as if we need
your approval. We?re not in the habit of offering
alternatives. Still, I was hoping you?d see the
benefits of the situation.?

He continued to scowl at her.

?Please don?t be difficult Alex. This would all be so
much more pleasant if you?d just cooperate.?

She shifted herself away from the desk and picked up
her files. She turned to leave pivoting gracefully on
her slight heels.

He liked the way she moved. He thought he would like
to see her dance.

*

They rented a car. She drove.

They kept driving. Past the city limits, well past the
last outposts of the capital.

It was a liberating feeling, leaving it all behind
even if they knew that wasn?t possible. It wasn?t
something you could leave.

Marita?s eyes squinted at the heavy sunlight
reflecting off the road. If she wanted to, she could
pretend she was escaping. Escaping the consortium,
escaping colonization, escaping her past, all of it.
However, she hadn?t sought solace in fantasy for years
and she wasn?t about to start now. Fantasies were
lies, and she hated being lied to which is why she was
in the business of knowing the truth, always being the
one in the know.

She checked the fuel gauge. Nothing in need of
attendance there. Her stomach on the other hand needed
immediate attention. She didn?t eat much. It was
something she could never remember to do. It was
always the last thing she thought of.

Strange, it was, to be reminded of it now. Perhaps she
just had nothing better to do.

She pulled up at a gas station. He?d been sleeping,
resting his cheek on his shoulder. He woke when he
felt the inertia pushing him against him harder
against the car door.

?What are we doing?? He said.

?I?m hungry.?

?We need to keep driving.?

She scoffed.

?You know it doesn?t matter how fast or how far we
drive, they?ll find us. I?m hungry and I need to go to
the bathroom.?

?Marita...? his voice was low and threatening. He
didn?t trust her. He figured she knew that and didn?t
trust him either. They were about to reach a stale
mate.

?Alex, believe me when I tell you I?m not going to
call anyone and I?m not going anywhere. I?m coming
with you. I?m with you.?

He laughed disbelieving.

?Right. You know I?d be an idiot to believe that.?

She threw her hands up.

?Fine. Come with me then.?

He unbuckled himself and opened his door.

?Let?s go.?

They went to the bathroom first. She threw him a
curious look when she entered the ?Ladies? but she
knew something as simple as social etiquette wouldn?t
stop him.

She stepped inside her cubicle but found resistance
when she went to close the door. He stood behind her
with his one good arm holding the door open.

?I don?t think so,? he said.

She glared at him before reaching under her skirt to
drag her panties down to her knees. She knew that the
best way to play this game was to pretend she wasn?t
playing at all, to pretend that she really didn?t care
if he witnessed her in a private moment or not, but
she did care and she really did feel self conscious
even if she hid it behind her best scowl.

Krycek smirked. He always was a bad winner.

Afterwards they used one of Marita?s many credit cards
to buy greasy food. They sat on the car and ate it.

She stared at the sky, half expecting helicopters.

Or spaceships.

*

She seduced him. Or she believed she did but they were
both seduced. She?d told herself it was necessary but
she was easily swayed. He?d been leaning against the
door while the Consortium met. She caught his eye from
time to time and he smirked back. He looked like he?d
betray them all to the highest bidder as soon as
someone gave him the opportunity although she knew
that was why they kept him around. They needed someone
who didn?t care.

She thought she would seduce him. Spender would find
it amusing and the Elder wouldn?t care so long as they
accomplished the tasks laid out for them and he made
the rest of them so nervous they would be willing to
see him form an attachment just to prove he was human.


She passed him on her way out.

?Come with me,? she said and she didn?t turn around to
see if he?d done as she asked.

There was a room with a large mahogany desk further
down the hallway. He followed her inside. She wasn?t
confident. Not like she hoped to be. She?d wanted to
seem like she did this all the time but she felt like
a teenager dressed up to pass for twenty-one and no
one was buying the deception.

?I think we could help each other,? she told him.

?How?s that?? His hands were tossed casually into the
pockets of his leather jacket. He made no movement
toward or away from her, yet she had that feeling he
was holding back, making her work for it.

?We have similar goals, you and I.?

?We do?? He smirked again. She liked his smirk. It
was bold. And they needed to be bold. ?How?s that??

?We both mean to survive.?

?And how do we plan to do that,? he emphasized the
?we?.

She moved further forward so that they faced each
other intimately.

?By trusting each other,? she said huskily. She leaned
forward and placed her lips on his. He didn?t react
at first but moved his lips gently against her.
Suddenly, he grabbed her head and pressed her harder
against him. His other hand ran up her body, sliding
inside the jacket of her suit and pawing her breast.

She couldn?t help feeling excited. Admittedly they
were probably being spied on and Alex was dangerous.
It had all the elements of a passionate affair and she
was almost ashamed to admit how much she would enjoy
such a liaison.

Abruptly, he pulled away from her and studied her
face.

?I don?t trust you for a second,? he said, ?But I?m on
your side.?

He kissed her again briefly and then left.

She would never be in love with him. She was sorry
about that. Not for him but for her. They gave her an
expensive apartment and designer clothes but they were
never going to allow her the luxury of love.

And who knows what that might have been like.

*

They pulled up to a motel in the middle of nowhere.
She felt like they?d been driving forever and now
they?d reached a point where neither could keep awake.
Alex had been checking for a tail since the since the
city limits but if anyone followed they did so with
discretion.

She remembered he?d left her to die once. True, she?d
left him to rot in a prison in Tunisia but they both
knew that was punishment.

She remembered Fort Marlene and she remembered Jeffrey
Spender.

She remembered dropping in and out of consciousness
and dreams filled with disturbing images.

And then there were other memories. Memories she
tucked down deep hoping to keep them hidden
indefinitely.

She remembered standing outside the Maria Fontana
Dance School waiting for her father to pick her up.
Her hair was neatly knotted into a bun. Her father was
late. She was fourteen and self conscious. Conscious
of the fact that she was standing alone in the street
with nothing more than a cardigan covering her leotard
and tights. Two cars slowed down to take a better
look at her and she wrapped the cardigan tightly
around her thin frame.

A police vehicle arrived an hour later. It was
already dark and she squinted her eyes at the
headlights shining in her face.

They ushered her into the back seat of the car and
drove her to the police station. A woman with sandy
coloured hair wearing a brightly patterned blouse sat
her down in a room with no windows and asked her if
she knew what her father?s job was. She said her
father sold insurance ? it was what he told her.

The woman with the brightly patterned blouse told her
that her father had been paid to kill people. He had
been arrested only an hour earlier trying to leave the
scene of his latest ?job?.

The woman asked if she had any relatives that could
come and take her. She didn?t. Her mother had died
when she was barely old enough to remember her. There
was never any family at their house. They had no
cousins, Aunts, Uncles or Grandparents. Just her and
her father. She?d always considered it cozy.
Comfortable.

She stared at her feet. She had black ballet slippers
on and she had long thin legs covered in white tights.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to take off her
tights and put on her jeans and sneakers. She felt
like the tights were constricting her, cutting off her
circulation.

She decided there and then that she hated tights and
she hated her leotard and if she got home soon she
would roll them up and throw them out in the trash.

?Marita? Are you OK??

The woman with the brightly patterned blouse was
staring at her. She could feel her cheeks flush red
and she had the sudden impression that her hair was
too tight.
She began to pull at the hair in her bun.

?Marita??

She pulled harder but the hair had been tucked in
tightly. A large clump of blonde hair came out in her
hand.

?Marita!?

She pulled at her bun with both hands drawing blonde
locks from head and throwing them on the floor. She
continued to do so until hands grabbed her wrists and
she began to hear voices yelling around her. She felt
a prick in her arm and suddenly her eyelids felt heavy
and her head swayed trying to stay upright. Before her
vision went black she caught sight of her hands being
held by the woman in the brightly coloured blouse.
They were covered in blood.


When she woke she was in a hospital. She had a room to
herself with a television and a vase of flowers
sitting on the bedside cabinet. Her head was thick
with black fog keeping her from remembering how she
had come to be there.

She noticed a figure standing by the window. A man
with a cigarette in his hand. He turned to face her as
if he had felt her eyes on him.

?Marita, you?re awake??

She didn?t recognize him. Her head hurt and she raised
a hand to her forehead to figure out what was causing
such pain. She found a bandage wrapped tightly and
covering her entire scalp.

The man with the cigarette spoke again.

?I?m a friend of your father?s Marita. I?ll be taking
you home.?

And she remembered, the police car, her ballet
clothes, the woman with the brightly coloured blouse
and her hair that had seemed so infuriating she had
tried to pull it out by the handful. She began to
cry.

The man with the cigarette pulled a handkerchief from
his pocket and handed it to her.

It was silk.

*

The shower in the motel room was cold. Still she
managed to sit under the stream long enough to rinse
the grime of the journey from her body. She was a
woman of refinement but Fort Marlene had taught her a
much needed lesson in tolerance for physical
discomfort. There were times she felt that she could
cope with anything.

She stepped out of the shower and exited the bathroom
wearing the clothes she had arrived in.

Alex was sitting on the bed staring at the opposite
wall. He looked up when she entered.

?Cold water,? she said.

He nodded.

He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her toward him.
Marita?s training in martial arts ensured that in
spite of her size she could put up some resistance if
she disagreed with the way she was handled, but she
made no attempt to extricate herself.

?What are you doing?? she said.

?I want you.?

She laughed dryly.

?Your timing is impeccable,? she said.

?Marita, please.?

The sincerity in his eyes was frightening. She pulled
back and frowned at him.

?Are you OK??

It had been a long time. Frantic stolen moments with
Alex were like drug induced hazes. She was never
really sure what happened where or which moment slid
into the next.

?It the end of the world Marita. The final showdown.
How did you plan on spending it??

She looked at him. He was serious. She burst out
laughing.

?You have spent way too much time around these people.
The end of the world Alex? Believe me, I?d know if it
were the end of the world. The instance of retrovirus
outbreaks would quadruple for a start??

?That?s not what I meant.?

He removed his jacket and his shirt to reveal a white
undershirt. He?d become a deft touch with his one arm.
His Russian doctor had been impressed by how quickly
he?d adapted. He had to.

He ran his hand through his hair and then bent down to
untie his boots. He sat on the bed and pulled one off
after the other.

?What are you doing?? she said.

He smiled a crooked smile.

?You?re beautiful you know.?

She snorted.

?For God?s sake Alex??

He stood up and peeled his undershirt off. He was
magnificent to look at. Even his prosthetic arm seemed
to add to his unearthly appeal. He looked too perfect
to be human and the arm was like the exclamation mark
on the point.

She laughed and shook her head.

?Alex, this is not reasonable.?

He slipped a hand under her blouse and began pulling
it up her back. She raised her arms so he could slip
it over her head.

?You?re not reasonable,? she said shaking her head.

He placed his arm around her waist.

?Do you like to dance Marita?? he said, his voice low.

?Dance??

He dipped her backwards and whirled her around.

She shrieked with laughter and placed her leg up
against his thigh to help him maneuver.

He pulled her back up until their faces were inches
apart.

?Do you like to dance, Marita?? he repeated.

A reluctant smile crept across her face. She hated to
dance. She hadn?t danced since the night when a police
car arrived to pick her up from Maria Fontana?s Dance
School, but with Alex, all those memories, her life
and it?s misfortunes all seemed so far away, like
mountains in the distance shrouded in fog or ships
sailing away to a dot on the horizon.

?Only with you, Alex,? she answered huskily.

He dipped her again and her head nearly touched the
floor. She stretched her leg out and her shoe hung
precariously from her toe. She kicked it off. Secure
in the feel of Krycek?s arm on her waist, she
stretched both arms behind her and arched her back
reveling in the gracefulness of the movement.

Krycek raised her body to meet his again and this time
he kissed her. The rush of blood from her head left
her dazed and she kissed him back with the room
spinning behind them.

He took her hand and led her to the bed. She noticed
he had such a large hand in comparison to her small
and slight, one-time ballet dancer?s hands. His hands
killed. Hers did too but they never gave that
impression.

?You?re a good dancer, Marita,? he told her.

?I used to do ballet,? she said, and she was surprised
to hear herself say it. She remembered spinning on her
toes with her arm arching swan neck-like above her
head, leaping into the air and landing with precision,
stretching next to the barre, feeling her muscles pull
and constrict with each graceful extension of her
limbs. She had loved ballet.

He kissed her hand and laid her down backwards onto
the bed.

?Past lives,? Krycek said offhandedly, ?who would we
be without them??

In love, she thought. They would be in love.

He kissed her. She kissed him back. In moments he was
moving inside her and she was murmuring his name into
his hair.

And the dance went on.



Fin

=====
CGB

We can hitch a ride To Rockaway Beach
It's not hard, not far to reach
We can hitch a ride To Rockaway Beach

The Ramones (God love ya Joey)