I Do

St. Basil the Great Orthodox Church
New York City
June 18, 1990

Alex Krycek stood in the shadows near the alter of St. Basil's staring into the collection of lit and unlit candles on a low table. He had always found churches to be peaceful places for a moment of contemplation and so he let his thoughts drift away on the scent of roses and candle wax, and let the small rustling sounds of the few people in the pews fade into the background.

Choices. Life's choices were sometimes so intractable. As a boy growing up in New York he hadn't expected to have many choices as a man. There was the Russian mob with its promise of fast money, women, and if he was lucky, power -- if unlucky, a bullet. Or there was the factory or a construction site. Slaving ten hours a day at backbreaking labor to bring home a paltry amount to his tired, washed out wife and mewling, ungrateful kids. That had been his father's choice, until he dropped dead of a heart attack at 41. With a role model like that, was there ever any question what he would choose?

Alex was more clever than the rest. He had risen fast and high enough to see that there was more to the world than just the dirty deadly streets of New York City. He had realized that there was a third choice -- for those that were bright and bold enough to make it. A choice that offered, in addition to the money, women and power, a semblance, at least, of respectability. The possibility of being more than just a hired thug. And to a boy from the slums of New York that was the most powerful temptation of all.

All he had to do was be in the right places at the right times. Do the right jobs and do them well. Be noticed by the right people. The people who were too adept and too influential to deal in drugs or guns; the people who dealt in political mastery and human weakness.

And one day the offer he had been waiting for came in the form of an aging, chain-smoking bastard who spoke in cool, precise tones that scared Alex more than any brass knuckle wielding, gun toting bully-boy ever had.

Yes. He'd said yes of course. There was no other allowable answer. No other answer that wouldn't result in his bloated corpse washing up on the banks of the East River. Just getting the offer meant that things had gone too far to be refused. Alex was smart enough to realize that.

And besides, Alex didn't want to refuse. The things his patron, that black-lunged son of a bitch, offered in exchange for his loyalty were fucking amazing! They were already sending him to college for christ's sake. And from there to the FBI academy. Special Agent Alex Krycek -- he liked the sound of that.

What would he have to do in exchange? Not much. Keep his eyes open. Furnish certain information to his patron on occasion. Other than that, Alex must simply maintain an aura of normalcy. Settle down with an acceptable woman, move to the burbs, buy a car built by Detroit, produce 1.2 rugrats and own a dog.

Well ... Alex was allergic to pets so the dog was out, and he'd never had much use for kids. He and his brothers and sisters had never appeared to be anything more than an unavoidable burden to his mother and father. But he wouldn't mind having a wife. An attractive, convenient body to fuck whenever he had the urge. Someone to make and maintain the right social connections. And if she wanted a kid or two to keep her busy during the day, and was willing to keep it out of his hair ... well .. he supposed he could be persuaded.

A burst of organ music interrupted Alex's revery. He glanced down the long aisle of St. Basil's and spotted an attractive young woman. Dark haired, petite and dressed in a brilliant, ice-white wedding gown, lavish with crystal and pearls, the train extending 20 feet behind her.

She was being escorted by her sour-faced father. A man who was obviously unhappy about being required to give his young daughter to a man he remembered as nothing more than an ambitious thug.

Alex stepped out from the shadows and took his place at the alter, adjusting his tuxedo and smiling a wolf grin.

His patron was obviously a powerful man in the organization to have arranged this for his newest protege. Alex sought the man with his eyes, and found him near the back, standing, smoking, dropping ash on the plush red carpet of the sanctuary floor. No one dared reprimand him.

Alex's bride had completed the long, slow and ... hesitant? ... journey to the alter. He chose not to think about what she might be contemplating at this moment. Instead he thought about later tonight when he would show her just how fortunate she was to be married to a hungry young man like himself instead of one of the dried up old men that seemed to make up most of their organization.

He took her from her father with a victorious glare and led her to the alter.

"Do you Alexei Nikolai Krycek take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, til death do you part?" the priest asked.

And Alex heard the unspoken questions as well. Do you vow your unerring loyalty to the organization? Do you promise to do your patron's bidding unquestioningly? Do you pledge that your life is forfeit if you should fail?

"I do."