"Arianna" by Aria, from Aria 2

The lamp flickers a few times and dims a notch. The resulting light is uneven and ghostly; it creates gray shadows that waver along the walls of the cell. Though Krycek's eyelids stay closed, he senses the change in surroundings, and his breathing quickens minutely until he understands that the room is still empty. Before, he was afraid of Jason or Marita coming back for another friendly chat. Now, he is only afraid of them not returning.

If they don't need him any longer, if they don't come back to extract more answers from him, then they have already succeeded, and he is the one that ensured their victory. If they don't come back, he cannot ask them for water. He doesn't blame them - forgetting about prisoners is easy when the fate of the world is at stake.

Krycek chokes on the acrid taste inside his mouth and tries to stifle the ensuing coughs. Their sharp blade seems to cut his chest apart. He is grateful now that his legs are bound, for immobility is almost a mercy. It is not the bonds that incarcerate him, but the weakness of his upper body, the hastily treated shoulder that, he now realizes, was only bandaged to prevent the loss of blood and keep him alive.

Before slipping back inside the protected shelter of his dreams, he marvels briefly at the perseverance of the human body. It endures more than it should, more than he has ever imagined possible. Death is never easy, and today she forgets about him just as everyone else has. She leaves him alone with the apparitions that dwell within these walls.

"What has he done to you?"

Krycek isn't surprised that one of them should have a voice of the man he betrayed. He is only bewildered at the absence of anger in the words that it speaks. He keeps his eyes closed for fear that this dream should end too quickly. Ghosts, after all, have a tendency to melt away.

The response comes almost against his will. "You shouldn't be here."

"Oh, Alex."

Mulder's regretful whisper disrupts the stale atmosphere. Then, his voice moves away, and Krycek feels the bonds fall away from his feet as the penknife severs them. This presence is too palpable, too human to be a spirit. The fingers of his right hand are enclosed in the warm flesh of another, and he wonders why this vision should be so real. Or why the fingers that hold him are dressed in bandages.

"How..." Each sound awakens the hurt in his ruined cheek. He ignores it. "How did you find this place?"

"I was looking for my sister," Mulder answers softly, the urgency of the statement buried deep beneath the layers of concern that could almost be called friendly. "I guess my intuition still works."

Krycek moans at the confirmation of his worst suspicions. "You were supposed to be kept safe... together..." he whispers. "Shouldn't have... let you go."

After several beats of silence, his fingers are released from Mulder's grip, and he is certain that the dream has finished. There comes an end to any torment, physical or emotional. His eyes open wide when he finally hears an answer.

"I worked with them for the last few weeks, looking for the men behind the murders."

The prisoner searches Mulder's face and swallows dry air. "The old man got you, didn't he?"

His visitor turns away from the penetrating gaze, full of lamentation if not judgment. "No," he denies firmly. "The spider did."

Krycek trembles slightly, decides that he must have misheard the words. "I'm sorry," he says instead. "I was..." The pain is suddenly unbearable, and he throws his head to the side, grinds his teeth to withstand it.

"Don't talk," Mulder tells him, urgently.

But he needs to speak now, before he loses his courage, before he cannot speak any longer. "I was the one who told Hart where he could find Samantha. I...didn't..." he searches for a way to explain, but it dies on his tongue. "Please forgive me."

It is almost an eternity before Krycek feels the touch of lips placing a careful kiss on his forehead. His eyes pose a numb question.

"It doesn't matter," Mulder injects a smile into his answer, then repeats it, with more belief, "it doesn't matter."

"Don't underestimate Hart," Krycek hurries to warn him. His voice is growing weaker, and now he struggles to stay awake, at least long enough to explain the dangers of the trap that he was caught in.

"I'll be careful," Mulder promises noncommittally. "Hang on until I come back."

"Don't underestimate Marita, either," Krycek adds, but the reply never comes. With an effort, he opens his eyes and sees the unlocked door through which his visitor has walked away. If not for the freed legs, he would almost believe that it was only a dream.

He slips back into unconsciousness, but even in sleep the dreadful feeling of foreboding envelops him.

Mulder won't fulfill his last promise.

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