Pairing: Krycek/Melissa Scully
Alex Krycek’s relationship with Scully’s sister leads to disaster. Takes place during the “Anasazi”-“Blessing Way”-“Paper Clip” arc.
9/95
Disclaimer: The X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013. No infringement intended.
* * *
April 13
8:20 A.M.
Alex Krycek woke with that momentary dislocation he always felt on waking these days: where was he, whom was he with, which persona did he have on, did he have to jump up and start running immediately? This time, he relaxed into the cool, fresh sheets and soft pillow and smiled to himself. The room was cheerful and bright, morning sun already streaming in through gauzy curtained windows. A crystal prism hanging in one window sent shifting rainbow patterns onto the sheer curtain. A dreamcatcher turned gently on a bit of fishing line above his head. You wouldn’t want my dreams, he told the object, with affectionate amusement.
Beside him, a woman stirred, her red-gold hair spilling across her face. A hazy morning smile spread across her features as she reached out to trail her fingertips along his cheek.
“‘Morning, sweetie,” she mumbled.
He leaned over to kiss her, a chaste morning brush of the lips. “Good morning, Melissa.” He stretched one arm over her to snag his watch off the nightstand. Damn her refusal to have an alarm clock in her bedroom—he was going to be late again. His employer did not appreciate lateness.
She took advantage of his reach to slide into his arms, pressing her lips onto his, demanding a more thorough morning greeting. He indulged her, briefly, then disengaged himself. “Don’t get me going, Mel, I’ve got to get to work.”
“Ooh,” she purred, “Nasty old job.” But she let him go, smiling.
You don’t know the half of it, Darling. He used endearments liberally in his mind, but never spoke them out loud. Somehow he felt he was maintaining his distance this way. He wouldn’t even call her “Missy,” as her mother and sister did. If he shortened her name, he only called her “Mel.”
“What are you going to do today?” He took her chin in his hand and stroked his thumb along her lip, outlining the slightly crooked smile. The smile widened and she nibbled the tip of his thumb. That crooked smile was just one more aspect of her that was completely unlike her serious younger sister. How in the world had one set of parents produced two sisters so unlike? Melissa, the spiritual New Age dreamer. Scully, the skeptical scientific pragmatist. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the younger sister as “Dana,” any more than he could think of his present bedmate as “Scully.”
“I think I’ll call my sister,” Melissa mused. “Maybe have lunch with her.”
Speak of the devil, Krycek thought. “Is everything okay?”
She shrugged. “Her crazy partner is acting a little more crazy than usual. She worries about him. A little too much, if you ask me, but of course she doesn’t.”
Krycek nodded, with a sympathetic smile. Naturally Mulder was acting crazy. Courtesy of Alex Krycek and his employer, and a surreptitious dose of mind-altering drugs. And he had to get over to Mulder’s apartment later today, to change the filter to keep the drugs flowing.
He sighed inwardly. He had to break up with Melissa soon. He was running out of plausible excuses to avoid meeting her sister, and besides, the Mulder situation would be heating up real soon, and he didn’t want to have to just disappear on her. Better she should think he was a jerk who’d walked out on her than worry endlessly over what had happened to him. Too bad, too, because he really liked her. This was just about the only assignment he’d had since he’d been pulled out of the FBI and broken off his brief partnership with Fox Mulder that he really enjoyed. He’d never thought of himself as hired muscle, but that was about all he was doing these days. Drugging people and killing them. He had a brain, he wanted to be using it.
But he wouldn’t be using much of anything if he didn’t get to work. He gave her a brief kiss, then levered himself over her and out of the bed. “Say hi to her for me. I’ve got to get going.”
She watched with rueful affection as he gathered up his clothes and headed for the bathroom.
* * *
Melissa Scully watched as her sister listlessly stirred her tea. They sat at Melissa’s kitchen table, the remains of their lunch before them. “Dana, you can’t let him take over your life like this.”
Dana Scully sighed, placed the spoon on the saucer, and sipped her tea. “I know, Missy. But I can’t help thinking he’s gotten himself in way over his head this time. And he’s been acting so strangely lately. He says he isn’t sleeping—but he never sleeps, really. I don’t know why this time should be so different.”
“If you think he’s in trouble, you should try to stop him.”
Dana laughed shortly. “Trying to stop Fox Mulder when he has his mind set on something is like trying to stop a freight train.”
“But you don’t have to ride that train with him.”
Dana shrugged. “He’s my partner.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to follow him blindly into disaster.”
Dana picked up her teabag and looked at it for a moment before putting it back on the saucer. Then she forced a smile. “I don’t want to talk about it any more, Missy. Tell me more about your new boyfriend. Is he cute?”
She’d told Dana numerous times, but she was always glad to repeat it. “Oh, Dana, is he ever! Just on the eyelashes alone, he could break a dozen hearts. And he’s got the sweetest smile.”
“When do I get to meet him?”
Melissa sighed. The elusive fellow had broken several lunch and dinner dates with them already. She was beginning to think he didn’t want to meet her family. “I don’t know, Dana, he’s got this awful job that always seems to be interfering. Soon, I promise. If I have to tie him to a chair.”
Dana’s laugh was a little more genuine this time. “What does he do?”
“You know, I’m not really sure. He doesn’t like to talk about his work. Some kind of errand boy for some rich old corporate bigwig, I think. The guy really seems to keep him hopping.”
“If you were rich, he could be your errand boy.” Dana’s smile had an impish twist.
Melissa laughed. “My dear, he already is my errand boy. And I don’t have to pay him a thing.”
“Well, I’m dying to meet him. Maybe we should just spring me on him. Let me know some evening when he’s with you, and I’ll drop by ‘unexpectedly.'”
“The FBI has made you into a real sneak, Dana. I love it.”
“Don’t you have any pictures of him?”
“No, he seems to be camera-shy as well. I tried to draw a picture of him, but he’s very hard to capture.”
“Do you have it here? Let me see.”
Melissa got up to search for her sketch pad, grinning. Well, at least talking about her boyfriend had gotten Dana’s mind off her partner. And it was certainly no problem for her to go on endlessly about the charming man who’d recently come into her life. She found the pad and turned to the page where she’d tried to reproduce his sweet face—the wide-set, thick-lashed eyes, pert slender nose, round perfect lips, and smoothly contoured jawline. Somehow, the essence of the man continued to elude her, although she’d memorized each feature with the care of a new lover. She brought the pad into the kitchen and handed it to her sister. “I’m afraid it doesn’t really look like him. I don’t know why, but he’s very hard to draw.”
Dana studied the drawing carefully, brows drawn. “He reminds me of someone. Alex… did you say his name is Alex?”
“No, Alan. Alan Foxworth.”
“Oh, I know—he looks a little like Alex Krycek.”
“Who’s Alex Krycek?”
“You know, Missy. The man who was Mulder’s partner for a little while when we were separated.”
“Oh, goddess—you mean the one who betrayed you? Who helped them kidnap you?”
Dana nodded, handing the sketch pad back to her sister. “Funny, he had incredible eyelashes, too. Even Mulder noticed it. I suppose that’s why they resemble each other.”
Melissa sat down beside her sister, her mind spinning intrigues. “You don’t suppose… oh, Dana, wouldn’t that be just too much? If your Alex and my Alan….” Melissa grinned.
Dana shook her head. “Don’t even joke about it, Melissa. That man caused a great deal of grief in my life. I don’t want to even think about….”
Melissa sighed. She was trying to get Dana’s mind off her work, not remind her of some of the most painful parts of it. “Never mind, Dana. My Alan’s a sweetheart, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Now you really have to meet him soon, so you won’t be thinking of him as this horrible Alex person.”
Dana smiled wanly. “Any time. I do want to meet him. But Alex Krycek is long gone, I don’t think we have to worry about him popping up unexpectedly.”
* * *
Same Day
11:21 P.M.
Alex Krycek sat in his car, heart pounding wildly. He’d pulled off I-95 somewhere between New London and New Haven because his hands were so sweaty he could no longer hold onto the steering wheel. He’d managed to get several hours away from Martha’s Vineyard before the shakes hit him, but all of a sudden he broke out into a cold sweat, his hands started to tremble, and he could barely breathe. He was afraid he’d pass out before he got the car to the next exit and off to the side of the road. This job was really turning out to be a hell of a lot more than he’d bargained for.
Gradually his breathing returned more or less to normal. He wiped his hands on his tee-shirt and tried to pull his gloves back on. He’d tossed the gun into the floor on the passenger’s side of the car—it wouldn’t do to have it lying there in plain sight if he was stopped for some reason. He reached down and pushed it under the car seat. Now, at least, they’d need a warrant to search for it. It was thoroughly stupid, but he’d panicked when the gun went off and ran without thinking. It wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone—but it was the first time he’d shot an unarmed man at close range. Mulder’s father. With Mulder right there in the next room. This wasn’t what he’d signed on to do. He was no professional killer. He was supposed to be spying on Mulder and Scully, for god’s sake, not running around poisoning their water and murdering people. He’d sleep with their relatives, but he didn’t want to kill them.
He was supposed to see Melissa tonight. No way he could face her now, pretending that everything was normal, trying not to start every time the phone rang, expecting it to be Scully, calling to tell her sister that her partner’s father had been killed. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cellular phone and dialled Melissa’s number. He should have called her hours ago.
“Hello.” Her voice, as always, was cheerful.
“Mel, it’s me. Al…Alan.”
“What’s up, sweetie? Sounds bad.”
“I can’t make it tonight. Work just got crazy and I couldn’t get away. I’m sorry.” He knew his voice was thin and strained. He should have waited until he calmed down a little more before he talked to her. But he so wanted to hear her voice.
“You know, you really should quit that job. It’s not good for you.”
He gave a short, hopeless laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s not that easy.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy. I just said it’s what you should do.”
“I know, Mel. Look….” He should break up with her now. He’d been thinking of doing it tonight. But he couldn’t do it over the phone, he’d just have to wait until he saw her again. He drew a deep breath. Talking to her always calmed him down. She was so honest, and she saw things so clearly. This must be something like the way Mulder felt about the other Scully. He wanted to laugh at the thought. “So how was your day? Did you see your sister?”
“Yes. Poor Dana, she’s really upset about her partner. She thinks he’s going to do something stupid and she doesn’t know how to stop him.”
Well, I just made that situation a whole lot worse. “I hope it works out for them.” And he really did. He didn’t mean Mulder any harm, or Scully; he liked and respected them both. He’d enjoyed working with Mulder—he was an extremely intelligent man with a delightful, dry sense of humor. He just wanted Mulder to stop digging into things he wasn’t meant to know.
“So do I. She really wants to meet you. I’ve been telling her all about you.”
“Oh, don’t do that.”
“Why not? I want to show you off. I showed her a picture I drew of you—she thinks you look like this guy who used to work with her partner. I have to show her you’re nothing like that slime.”
“You didn’t.” He really was going to have to break up with her now. Soon. Maybe he could make up a story about being transferred—that wouldn’t be as painful as telling her he didn’t want to see her any more. “I didn’t know you drew a picture of me.”
“It doesn’t really look like you. Probably looks more like this other guy. But you see, you have to meet her now, so she won’t be thinking you’re him.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t think that.” Because if she really did, she’d be screaming blue murder at you not to have anything more to do with me.
“Still. People get these images in their minds. I’m sure whenever she thinks of you, she’ll be thinking of this Alex Krycek character.”
“Well, we certainly don’t want that.”
“No, we don’t.”
“I… I’ve got to go now, Melissa. Sorry about tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, baby. Good night. Don’t work too hard.”
Krycek hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket, hand trembling again. God, what a mess! Tomorrow, he’d definitely break up with Melissa tomorrow. The thought hurt him far more than he’d expected. In another life… what if he’d really been just a wet-behind-the-ears agent who’d been assigned to work with “Spooky” Mulder after the X-Files had been shut down? In a normal way, he’d have met Scully, and maybe eventually her sister. They’d have started dating, and there would be no reason he’d ever have to leave her. He wouldn’t have to lie to her, or try to remember he wasn’t Alex with her….
He pushed that fantasy firmly aside. He had to get back now, he had to report to his employer and find out what he had to do next. He had to keep his mind on his work, or he was going to end up dead. He sat up, took a deep breath, and started the car.
* * *
Melissa hung up the phone thoughtfully. Alan had really sounded upset—this was more than just having to work late again. And why was he so reluctant to have her sister know anything about him? Something was going on.
She went into the kitchen, and made herself a cup of herbal tea. Alan was upset. Dana was upset. All around her, people she cared about were struggling with their lives. She had a bad feeling that things were far more wrong than she knew, and that it was going to get worse before it got better. She’d like to get both Dana and Alan here for a nice healing ritual. Of course, Dana would never go for it. Alan, though—he seemed more open to the possibilities. Although it was hard, lately, to get him to come here at all, much less sit down with her and go through the proper spells. Well, if she couldn’t get them here, she’d just have to do the ritual herself on their behalf.
Melissa took her tea and went into the other room. There, she began to gather the things she’d need—candles, crystals, chalice and sea salt. She laid out the items and then sat quietly on the couch, clearing her mind while she finished her tea. A spell for Dana to avoid the danger she was in. And one for Alan, to have the strength to do what he needed to do about his job. Nothing for herself tonight—her life was fine, it was the people around her who needed help. She took a deep breath and began the rituals.
* * *
April 14
10:12 P.M.
Krycek knocked on Melissa’s door, clutching his sore ribs and hissing softly at the pain. He shouldn’t be here, he knew. He should be at home, or at his employer’s, explaining what had happened. He was going to get the shakes again pretty soon, and he shouldn’t be dumping all this on Melissa. What could he even tell her? Your sister just saved my life. Of course, she didn’t mean to, she was just trying to stop her crazy partner from shooting me. After he beat the shit out of me in a drug-crazed frenzy. A frenzy that I induced by spiking his building’s water with drugs….
Melissa opened the door; he practically fell into her arms.
“Alan! Oh Alan, what happened to you? Are you all right?”
He allowed her to lead him into the room and settle him on the couch. “I’m all right. I just got beat up. Nothing’s broken, I don’t think….”
Her cool, soft hands were inspecting his face. He winced when she touched the jaw Mulder had repeatedly punched. “You poor thing! You wait right here….” She bustled out of the room.
He should not have come here. This was a big mistake. But he hurt, damn it. He’d nearly been killed. The look of pure hatred on Mulder’s face had shocked him with its malevolence. Mulder screamed You killed my father! How could Mulder have made that assumption? There was no way he could have known Krycek had been there. Please, he hadn’t made any mistakes there… he knew he’d panicked, but damn it, this wasn’t what he’d signed on for! Be Mulder’s partner, work with him, keep an eye on him…. When had that turned into poison this man, kill that one…? He liked Mulder, damn it, in his own way he’d thought he was helping him, keeping him away from things that were too dangerous for him to know. Now Mulder hated him with a burning passion the like of which he’d never seen. And he was no better than a cheap hood. And he was sitting here in Scully’s sister’s house, for god’s sake, how had everything gotten so crazy?
Melissa was back, with a damp cloth and antiseptic. She began to bathe his face. He was surprised at how much blood came off on the cloth. At the time, adrenaline had kept him from feeling the blows too strongly. Now, his jaw was starting to ache horribly. He moved it carefully, holding the side of his face.
“You should see a doctor,” Melissa said.
“No. I’ll be all right.”
“My sister’s a doctor. Why don’t I call her…?”
“No!” Krycek bit his sore lip, swore at himself, and forced himself to calm down. “No, Mel, please, I’m fine. I just got beat up. I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”
“What happened? Who did this to you?”
It was always easiest to tell the truth wherever possible. His employer knew that—that was why he’d recruited a young agent who had a special interest in the X-Files for the job of getting close to Fox Mulder. An agent who didn’t have to lie when he said he wanted to believe. Who admired the man he was now expected to help destroy. “I ran into someone I used to work with. He was drunk or drugged or something. He has a grudge against me for something I did before.”
“And he just beat you up?” Melissa sounded like such a thing would never happen in her orderly and sensible world.
“Yeah. He just beat me up.”
Melissa sighed. “I don’t suppose you want to call the police, either.”
She looked so exasperated. He found it terribly sweet. He took the cloth from her hand and threw it onto the coffee table, then pulled her into his arms. “Forget that. Just come here.”
She settled next to him, holding him tightly. He sucked in his breath as she tucked her arm around the sore spot on his side where Mulder had kicked him. Her other hand curled in his hair, pressing his face to her shoulder. “Poor baby,” she crooned.
Poor baby, indeed. If only you knew. He’d promised himself he’d break up with her tonight. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it now. He needed her too much, wanted desperately to just curl up in her arms and let himself be babied, to forget for a little while everything he’d done and what he’d become. “You’re too good, Melissa,” he murmured into her shoulder. “How did a person like you ever get born in this world?”
“The world isn’t a bad place, sweetie. There’s a lot of bad in it, but that isn’t all there is. You just have to learn to seek out the light.”
It all sounded so silly, but somehow she made it real. “I don’t think the light wants anything to do with me.”
“Shh. It’s late, baby, why don’t we just go to bed? You need to rest. Things will look better in the morning.”
“Yeah.” He pulled his face away from her shoulder, and grinned up at her suggestively. “Let’s go to bed.”
She shook her head, smiling. “You’re awful. You just got beat up, how can you think about…?”
“I’ll manage. We’ll just have to be… creative.”
“Well, as long as he didn’t hit you where it counts….”
That made him cringe—but only for a moment. “No, that’s still in working order.” He got to his feet carefully. His back hurt, and his ribs. As well as his face. But he would manage—and he’d make it good. It was going to be the last time. “Got any aspirin?”
Melissa put an arm around his shoulder. She spoke gently. “Sure. Go lie down, I’ll bring it to you.”
“Okay.” He went into the bedroom, shrugging off his jacket along the way. He dropped it to the floor and sat on the bed. When he bent over to remove his shoes, a searing pain shot through his ribs. Maybe there wouldn’t be any last flings tonight after all. He gave up on his shoes, and just lay back onto the bed.
Melissa came in, holding a glass of water and a bottle of pills. He struggled upright to take them from her, wincing in pain. She watched him take the pills, shaking her head. “Men,” she said in disgust.
He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I was born that way.”
“I called my sister.” She put a hand on his shoulder to stop his sudden attempt to push himself to his feet. “You’re off the hook. She wasn’t home. Why don’t you want to meet her?”
“I do, Mel. Just not… like this. I’m not exactly at my best right now.”
She sat beside him and put her arms around him. “You look pretty good to me.”
“So you like your men all beat up and bruised?”
“Shut up and kiss me. If it won’t hurt your face too much.”
He answered by pressing his mouth to hers. And it did hurt, damn it hurt, but it felt good, too—much too good to stop.
It did require a certain amount of creativity. But they had their last time, and he made the most of it.
* * *
April 18
3:21 P.M.
“I’ve been suspended. I’m probably going to lose my job. And I think Mulder’s dead,” Dana recited dully. “How could I have let things go so wrong, Melissa? That freight train crashed hard.”
Melissa touched her sister’s hand. They sat on Melissa’s couch, cups of tea before them on the coffee table. Dana had refused food, barely touched her tea. She was as depressed as Melissa had ever seen her. “I’m so sorry, Dana. I wish there were something I could do.”
“I know.” She squeezed Melissa’s hand. “It’s all right. I’ll be okay. Tell me about Alan.”
And today that was not a good subject for cheering someone up. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. He’s called, he keeps saying he’s busy. But something doesn’t sound right. Four nights ago he showed up all bruised and bleeding, said someone he used to know beat him up. He wouldn’t see a doctor or call the police. I tried to call you, but you weren’t home. I haven’t seen him since. I wonder if he’s in some sort of trouble.”
“Four nights ago?” Dana said thoughtfully. “He really must be Alex Krycek’s evil twin. He got beat up that night, too.”
“Really? —But Krycek is the evil one, Dana. Alan would be the good twin.”
She managed to get a wan smile from her sister. “Sorry. Of course. Yes, Krycek was poking around Mulder’s apartment building. I don’t know why. Mulder found him and beat him. He was about to shoot him when I stopped him. That’s when I took Mulder and started running for New Mexico.”
“That is a coincidence. Alan said… it was someone he used to work with who had a grudge against him.”
The two sisters stared at each other. Suddenly, Melissa shook herself and grinned. “You’ve got to meet Alan soon. We’re going to make ourselves crazy with this.”
Dana also smiled weakly. “Mulder’s paranoia is rubbing off. We’re starting to see conspiracies everywhere.”
“Poor Alan. Saddled with this evil doppelganger. Sounds like one of your X-Files.”
Dana’s smile went cold.
Melissa gave herself a mental kick. “I’m sorry, Dana. I didn’t mean to remind you of your job.”
Dana sighed. “No, Missy, it’s all right. Maybe… it’s a good thing I’m out of it. It was really starting to take over my life.”
“Don’t give up yet, Dana. Things could still work out.”
“Maybe.” She shook her head. “But if they do… I just have a bad feeling. Someone’s going to have to pay heavily before things will ever seem normal again.”
The words gave Melissa a chill. Dana was sensitive, although she didn’t like to talk about it. But on the rare occasions that she admitted to having a feeling about anything, she was invariably right. Someone was going to pay. And there was nothing she could do about it.
* * *
April 21
8:15 P.M.
Krycek stood before his employer, arms folded. “You want me to kill Scully?” Ridiculous. He bit down on his frustration, trying to speak calmly. “We don’t even have the tape yet. If we kill her now, we might never find it.”
“We’ll have it.” The man took a drag on his ever-present cigarette. “She’s grown too dangerous. Do it tonight. Take the new man with you, and be prepared to leave the country afterwards.”
“Tonight? You want me to leave the country, just like that?”
“You’ve always known you had to be prepared for this.” Cigarette smoke drifted in the air between them. The man pressed his lips together. “If I’d known you had such difficulty following orders, I would have chosen another man for the job.”
I wish you had. “You know damn well this wasn’t part of the job at the beginning. You said Mulder and Scully wouldn’t be killed.”
“Situations change. If you’d done your job properly from the start, it might not have come to this.”
Krycek fumed. None of this was his fault, and his employer knew it. The man must really be getting desperate to be scattering blame like this. “I did my job. Even when I disagreed with it. Even when you lied to me about what it would entail.”
“Will you do it now?”
God. Kill Scully? And Mulder was already dead. If his employer had told the truth about that—Krycek didn’t know what to believe any more. He wanted badly to just say No, I will not, and walk out. But he wouldn’t get very far. He’d be killed, and the man with the cigarettes would just hire someone else to kill Scully. He might as well do it. Then it would be over. He would leave the country and start a new life somewhere. Forget Alex Krycek had ever existed.
“Yes. But I won’t pull the trigger. Let the other man do it.”
“Fine. As long as it gets done. I always thought you were too squeamish for this sort of work.”
“Somehow, the accusation that I’m not cold-blooded enough to be a professional hitman doesn’t really offend me.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Just do it. Now.”
Krycek nodded once, and turned to leave.
* * *
In his car, Krycek pulled his cellular phone out of his pocket and dialled Melissa’s number, swearing when her machine answered. He hung up without leaving a message. He’d been putting off breaking up with her, putting off seeing her, and now it was too late. He’d be busy right up until he left, and it would be too dangerous to take time off to meet with her. He would just have to keep trying to call her. He hadn’t wanted to do it by phone, but now he had no choice. If nothing else, he’d leave a message on her machine just before his plane took off. He had no idea what he would tell her, but at least he would not disappear without a trace.
Then he dialled Scully’s number. When she answered, he hung up. All right, she was home. He’d just collect his associate, go right over there and get it done.
* * *
Scully was no longer at home when they arrived. Krycek picked the lock with practiced ease and let himself and his associate in. This would work out just as well, they’d catch her by surprise when she came back and it would be done before she knew what hit her. Determinedly, he put down the bile that repeatedly tried to rise at the thought of murdering Scully. Why the hell hadn’t they just killed her when they had her before and left him out of it? He felt as bad as if he held the gun in his hand himself.
They were only in the apartment for a few minutes before they heard footsteps in the hall, and heard a key scraping in the lock. They hurried behind the corner into the hallway and waited. The door opened, and she walked in. Krycek saw the muzzle flash; heard the report and the body fall. He came out from behind the corner and stepped up to the woman lying face down in the floor, faintly illuminated by the light from the open door. Funny, the hair didn’t look quite right. With his foot, he nudged the body over.
Melissa.
He thought he’d throw up. He thought he’d scream. “Oh no….” The voice didn’t sound like his, emerging as it did from behind the rushing sound in his ears. “Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?” The triggerman asked.
Everything. Everything in the world. “Let’s… let’s get out of here.” Why, Melissa? Why did it have to be you?
* * *
April 23
11:24 A.M.
A cold, hard knot had formed in the pit of his stomach that just wouldn’t go away. Krycek felt faded, somehow—as if he didn’t quite exist any more. The body was there, and that metallic coldness deep inside him, but nothing else. He’d felt no pain or regret or even sense of professional failure as he’d reported to the eternally-smoking man that they’d shot Scully’s sister, instead of Scully. He’d felt nothing at all. He’d listened to the man’s insults, and felt no anger. When the insults had turned to reassurances, he felt no comfort. He’d taken his further instructions without a whimper of protest.
Now he waited in the stairwell of the hospital where Melissa lay dying. The man who’d shot her waited below. Walter Skinner, briefly his boss at the FBI, had entered the hospital and was now in Melissa’s room. Krycek himself was not to be allowed to see her. The cold, hard place inside him burned like ice.
He heard the scuffle below, and immediately ran down the stairs. His associate held Skinner by a garrote around his neck. The other man held a gun in Skinner’s face.
Suddenly, Krycek exploded into a searing rage. He beat Skinner savagely, two hard blows to the face, one to the stomach, before searching the man’s pockets for the cursed tape. He pulled out the tape in triumph, then, still clutching it in his hand, landed another blow. It wasn’t Skinner he was beating, he knew. It was the cigarette-smoking man; it was Fox Mulder; it was the entire world. Mostly, it was himself. He slid the tape into his jacket pocket and shook his aching hand, savoring the pain. Then he turned and ran up the stairs.
* * *
He was silent all through the car ride. The cold, hard knot in his stomach was still there, but it was no longer quite so all-consuming. The brief episode of rage had melted it, just a little; put a few cracks in the ice. Soon, he knew, it would shatter completely. The shakes would come and he would break down and weep. For Melissa and himself, and for Mulder and Scully, too, and for all the mistakes he’d made and pain caused. He fingered the money belt under the waist of his jeans. Soon he’d be on a plane to nowhere, and he supposed he could go into the airplane lavatory and give in to his grief. Or in his seat, he didn’t care, let them see him cry; and when they asked him why, he’d tell them his girlfriend had been killed and it would be true enough. Even if she survived, she was now dead to him, and she would never know why.
The driver pulled the car into a parking lot, then got out and walked toward the store. Krycek stared out the window. He hated Washington, D.C. Soon he’d see the back of it forever.
“I can use a beer,” said the man in the back seat. “You want anything?”
“No.” He’d barely eaten in the past few days. He couldn’t face the thought of swallowing even a soda.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” And why did the man care? If Krycek did decide he wanted anything, he could just get it himself….
The other man got out of the car and walked to the store. The two men met at the door, and stood there for a moment, looking back toward the car. Krycek frowned. What were they…? Then he looked at the dashboard clock. It was flashing 12:00, 12:00, 12:00….
Bomb. Adrenaline exploded in him. He’d grabbed the door handle, flung himself out of the car, and begun running like hell out of the parking lot before his mind even had time to form the thought: I’ve been betrayed. He wants to kill me…. The force of the blast knocked him off his feet. He glanced back at the car, now engulfed in flames, for one brief moment as he scrambled to his feet and continued running.
* * *
He still had the tape. It would serve as his insurance that the man and his consortium would not trouble him again. He’d thought he would enjoy the phone call telling the son of a bitch that he was still alive and had better stay that way if they wanted their precious tape to stay under wraps, but it was an empty thrill. It didn’t make up for seeing Melissa lying on the floor of Scully’s apartment with his partner’s bullet in her head. It didn’t make up for the lies and betrayals and deaths. But it served as his goodbye to that life, and for that it provided a certain satisfaction. It was all over now. He had nothing left; nothing but a belt full of blood money and a cold ache that still wouldn’t go away, but he was free and in charge of his own life again.
This time, he planned to stay that way.
end.
Post a Comment