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Confessions

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Confessions
2630 Hegal Place
Apartment 42
Alexandria, VA 23242
7:17 p.m.

Fox POV

"...Tovarisch."

I watch in stunned silence as Aleksei Nikolai Krycek—yes, I am familiar with his full name; though I can't let him know I know, nor how I found out—turns his back and walks out of my apartment unarmed; insofar as being without a gun. He fucking gave it to me.

This act alone causes me to stir, and I rush to my feet in a hurry to catch up to the ever-elusive man. I run for my front door and out into the hallway, then down to the wooden door at the end marked 'Stairs'.

Flinging it open, I scarcely hesitate before racing down four flights as fast as I possibly can, knowing I must reach the lobby first, or he will be lost to me.

Again.

I arrive, scarcely in time, as the elevator doors open and he casually saunters out, looking for all the world as if he owns the place.

Hell, for all I know he does. It would be just like him to do something like that; guarantee his way around the sections of my life that are beyond my control.

As if I have any control, anyway.

"Kry...cek!" I hiss between much needed breaths, my adrenaline running high; from the sudden-out-of-nowhere-kiss, or his odd departure, or my run down the stairs, I know not which. I simply know that if he does not stop right now, I will have to hurt him.

Like he hurts me every time he leaves.

He turns, and immediately masks his surprise at seeing my disheveled self before him, but not quick enough for me to have missed it. Ha ha, I can play at cat and mouse, too, Alex. Or is that cat and rat? Fuck, he could be both!

He is both.

We stare at each other for a quick moment, and I find myself actually unable to read anything in those distressingly beguiling eyes of his, before he shrugs and turns again to walk out the front door of the lobby.

"Stop!" I whisper, and it appears to be enough as he halts and once more turns his attention toward me, allowing me to fully see him in the dim lighting from the hanging lamps above our heads. I inhale sharply, as I take in the sight of him.

Jesus Christ! His arm! What the hell happened to his arm?!

Tunguska!

Fuck! That could have so easily happened to me.

"Oh, Alex." I sigh, biting at my bottom lip to keep from crying out at what I have just realized. How could I have possibly missed his mutilation when he was upstairs?

Oh, and God! That fucking joke I made about his one hand! Shit!

"What do you want, Mulder?" He asks with a slight edge to his husky voice, and I can just feel the itch he has under his skin to turn again, and leave my presence behind. The impatience at having to stand his ground based on curiosity alone, for he is curious; of that I am sure.

If he were not, why else would he have actually listened to my command, instead of telling me to 'Fuck off, Mulder.' and hightailing it out of here; back to the maze from which he plots his evil deeds against...well, against whomever he fancies to wreak havoc?

Watching his eyes narrow at my lengthening silence I take a deep breath, force my thoughts aside, and ask the one question that has been looping inside the back of my mind for the past five or so minutes.

For surely it has been no longer than that since he turned his back on me, has it? "Why the fuck did you just do that?"