E-Mail: StarWindDancer@Hotmail.com

Fandom: X-Files 

Pairing: Implied Skinner/Krycek 

Ratings and Warnings: PG 

Series: Apart of Fallen Angels and Soiled 
Doves. Follows Fallen Angels 1 & 2 : Soiled 
Doves 1

Summery: Krycek waits for Sunday with Skinner. 

Spoilers: General- he has two arms, though. 
It's much more fun to play with him like that. 



*          *          *
Soiled Doves 2
          by StarWindDancer
*          *          *

I sleep under the stars.

Where ever I go my bed invariably lands under the biggest 
window. I tend to nest there. I usually pull the bed over 
then heap on blankets and pillows and quilts and cushions. 
I usually sleep on the pile wearing whatever I was wearing 
that day. On special occasions, like when the air is so chill I 
can try and blow cold rings of breath, I sleep under the 
blankets, naked as the day I was born.
 
I camp sometimes, as well. Those are the nights that 
whatever apartment I'm in seems too small so I go out to 
the ally ways with my jacket and a handful of cardboards. 

There was once this guy I knew who used to sleep out on 
the fire escape in the summer. His pet, a wolf dog, slept 
most nights on the fire escape though an occasional time 
the dog would wander over and curl up next to me on the 
floor.

My windows never close.

I've always wanted a pet but my life doesn't really lend 
itself to that kind of responsibility. I do pick up strays, 
though. I toss bits of bread and meat to the floor whenever I 
make anything. I'd almost been able to get Scrabbles, a rat, 
to eat from my hand.

He was an old rat that had seen better times. His hair was 
gray and patchy and he was so thin when I first moved in 
that I couldn't help but want to feed him.

He's only bitten me twice but the second time my finger 
swelled up so much that I had to shoot him the next time I 
saw him. 

I'll feed the birds now, but not the rats.

I need to replace the mirror in the bathroom of my current 
apartment. It's too small. 

I was looking at the bruises around my neck yesterday. I 
couldn't help but stare at them. They looked so beautiful. 
The redness had faded to bright purple and blue and green. 
They seemed to puddle just under the flesh, like oil slicks 
after a rain. 

They were sore as well. I had trouble moving my head this 
way and that. I turned quickly to look out the window to a 
noise that startled me and I had to hold my aching flesh. It 
felt like it wanted to crawl off my body. 

The pain reminded me who I am. I guess I can't regret that 
but I wish I had stuck around the club more instead 
following that guy out.

I don't go back out to the club; instead, I go about making 
sure contacts are still breathing. It's easy to get proof of a 
small time forgery ring working in the area. I've used them 
twice but I don't particularly like them. They're not all that 
good and they tend to forge ID's for teens looking for 
alcohol. 

They're so small that I could call it into some crime tips 
hotline but I need to give Skinner something. I don't think 
it's a bribe or a dowry but I can't get that idea out of my 
head.

I want to be his slave.

I want to be his; I want him to touch me like he did that 
night. I want him to tie me up and punish me. I need him to 
do this. I don't know what will happen to me if he doesn't.

I can't imagine what my life would be like if I'd been kept 
within the FBI. I didn't really have all that much time to 
adjust to being an officer of the peace before I started being 
a spy. I can't think how I'd be able to go into work at 9 
then leave at 5. I can't imagine dressing in a suit and 
looking authoritive.

But I can't imagine my life not being what I put so much 
time into. 

I'm not sure why I wanted to be a cop but I spent so much 
of my life thinking that way. I wanted to be one of the good 
guys, rescuing kittens from trees.  

I think I'm lost.

Do I want to be found?

Do I want to be saved?

I left the belt at that guys place but I don't need it. The 
bruise on my neck is quite vivid and bothersome.

I've tried out the lubes, though.

I opened them all up and squirted drops onto my arm then 
licked them off. It was weird to feel the sweetness on my 
tongue and the little hairs on my arm. It was all so sticky 
and I discovered that some of them warm up a bit. I had to 
squirt the rest of those packages over my own crotch to see 
just how warm it got. I'm pretty sure I don't like it. 

The vibrators were the next things I wanted to test. I had 
gotten batteries and put them in but I really didn't feel like 
using them. Instead I let them buzz and dance over the 
kitchen table. I had the most fun with the small, bullet like 
vibrator. It had a wire running to a remote that I could 
adjust the speed with. I played with that one for nearly an 
hour, making it go really fast and jump all over the table 
then turning it down to hum along the surface.

It's small enough to stick in a nostril or an ear but it tickles.

The book I had gotten showed lots of knots and ties but I 
never did get out and get a rope. There was also a slave 
checklist that I should have filled out.

On Saturday night, I lay on my bed watching the clock. My 
gun is next to me on the pillow, casting a black stain over 
the whiteness. I'm not sure why it's there.

I watch the clock silently. The red numbers almost mocking 
me. I know that if I get up *right now* and leave I can get 
to Skinner's place by midnight.

I don't move. 

I don't think I can move. 

My body feels so limp and lifeless, like I could just close 
my eyes and go to sleep but I don't. Instead, I watch the 
countdown to midnight. He never said what time I should 
show up, just said to come Sunday but I wanted all the time 
I could get out of him as I could. I couldn't wait. I wanted it 
all now.

But as the clock ticks its minutes, I can't seem to do it. It's 
like I left my body in my nest and I'm watching it waste 
away, like some sort of dream I'm starting to wake up 
from.

I don't want to wake up. It was just getting good.

I try not to count the seconds as I watch the 11:58 turn to 
11:59. 60 seconds and my life can change. 59 seconds and 
my life can be full of something. 58 seconds and my life 
could mean so much. 57 seconds and Skinner and Sundays 
and... and... and...

*          *          *

Continued in Soiled Doves 3