Just Pretend

Dear Mulder,

I'm writing this letter as I sit in my hotel room, not more than a few hundred feet from where you and Scully are right now. I have a perfect view of your room, thanks to proximity and a well-placed camera. Don't worry, if things go beyond PG-13, I'll turn it off. Your privacy has been invaded more times than you'll ever know and I've grown weary of being a party to that particular invasion. You, both of you, deserve better. You won't get it, but you deserve it all the same.

You will consider tearing this letter up and tossing it away as a hoax, but I promise you, this is the real deal. You did see Alex Krycek die that night, but in name only. The man behind the name survived, and will continue to survive. Rats are nothing if not resilient; a little nanobot technology in the blood stream doesn't hurt anything either. You'd be amazed at what those things can do.

Before I disappear, I wanted to set things straight with you. I tried that night, but Skinner was too quick on the trigger. I have no right to ask anything of you, but I'm asking anyway. Read this letter, really read it. Indulge me this once and you might see the truth in my words. Don't scoff, I am capable of telling truths, Mulder.

Just pretend, if only for a moment, that things were different. What would we have been to one another? Coworkers? Brothers in arms? Friends? Lovers? No, skip that last one. Others may have their doubts about your sexuality, but I've seen you with her; that's not an option.

Still there or did that last little bit try the limits of your patience? No, I know you too well; you're a curious one, Mulder, you won't stop until you've read this all the way through. Just like the time you pulled Phoebe's tape out of the trash and listened to it when Scully wasn't around. Didn't think I'd know about that one, did you? That was before our first meeting, but it's all on video in the Consortium archives under M for Mulder. Most of the members are gone now, but the archive remains.

Let's start with the first one, shall we? What if we had been coworkers? You could argue that we tried that one already, but it wasn't real. I was told you were dangerous, someone who needed to be closely watched. I thought I was on some kind of righteous mission to rid the FBI and the world of one more crackpot who believed in aliens and in government conspiracies to hide knowledge from the general population. What a joke. I found out too late that the joke was on me.

Whether you ever really accepted it, we were brothers in arms. Not always on the same side, but always looking for the same outcome. Well, not exactly the same outcome. I mean, for a long time my motivation wasn't truth, but the almighty dollar. I was a whore for purchase by the highest bidder. It wasn't that way at the end, you know. With the date set and the super soldiers in place, no amount of cash was going to help or give me any comfort. I stayed in place, not for myself, but for you, for your fight. Every lead, every anonymous tip, came from me. Did you know? Do you care? Would it have mattered?

For the record, I had no intention of killing William. Make no mistake, I was going to take him away from you; for your safety and for his, but I was not going to hurt him. I'd found a nice couple who were willing to take him in and raise him as their own. Think Smallville, USA, Mulder. A little farm community in the Midwest, healthy living, good family values, the last perfect environment in which to raise a child. The plan was to fake his death, pretend to have destroyed his body, leave everyone to live happily ever after and hope like hell that the kid didn't go Clark Kent on us when he hit puberty. Funny thing is, he ended up in the same basic setting anyway, didn't he?

Don't tell Scully, but the shot Spender gave William, the effects are only temporary. In a few weeks he'll be back to normal, or at least normal for what he is. That Clark Kent thing could still happen. Don't worry though, I'll be watching out for him. Does that send shivers down your spine? You can't keep him safe, but I can and I swear to you, I'll protect him. Being dead has its advantages.

Friends. Oh man, whether you know or care, Mulder, this is what I wanted most. Why do you think I kept coming back? Did you really believe that I was helpless against your physical attacks? Get a grip, brother; I could have taken you down at any time. Thought about it a few times, especially that night at the airport. I saved your ass all the way with a single slip of the tongue. No matter how much you think I betrayed you in Tunguska, you never would have made it out alive, if not for my spewing Russian expletives at you in the airport parking lot that night.

You and me, friends. I can see you laughing at the very idea, but all things being equal, is it really out of the realm of extreme possibilities? Hey, I've just promised to protect your only child; that has to count for something. If not friendship, can I talk you into something better than mortal enemy? I'd settle for worthy adversary. Yeah, yeah, I know, adversary/enemy, potayto/potahto. I'm grasping at straws here, trying to make myself understood and, I suspect, failing miserably.

I wish I could go back and do things differently. But things aren't different. They are what they are. I know it's all just pretend.

Good luck to you, my friend.

Alex

Alex folded the paper in half and sat staring at the camera. True to his word, when the image before him slid from PG-13 into a more R-rated version, he leaned over and hit the off switch.

He dozed off in the chair, waking shortly before dawn. After taking care of his morning needs, he picked up his knapsack and the letter and left the room. Before leaving the hotel grounds, he crossed the small parking lot and stopped in front of Mulder's car. He lifted the windshield wiper and stuck the letter underneath the blade. After giving the letter a tug to be sure the blade was holding it securely in place, Alex turned to face the door to Mulder's room.

"Godspeed, brother."

Mulder knocked on the bathroom door. "Scully, I'm going out to get a paper. Be right back."

He opened the door to the room, making sure that it locked securely behind him. The newspaper box was up by the office, the opposite direction from where their car was parked. It wasn't until he made his way back to the room, that he noticed the paper stuck to the windshield.

At first glance, Mulder thought it was probably nothing more than another flyer left by some local business or church. He almost threw it away, but curiosity got the better of him and he unfolded the paper. The first two paragraphs chilled him to the core. He'd foolishly believed that they were safe and now here was evidence to the contrary. As he continued to read the letter, fear gave way to a mix of anger and confusion. By the end, a new emotion came to light, one that he never expected he'd associate with Alex Krycek. Empathy.

Mulder folded the letter and stuck it in his wallet. Maybe someday he'd share it with Scully, but not today. For now, he was going to just pretend. Just pretend that things are normal, just pretend that they are safe, just pretend that things are different. But things aren't different. They are what they are. He knew it was all just pretend.