Turn It Up

For the record: Tunisian prison sucks.

Every documentary about the American prison system has the guys whining on and on about how much they miss their freedom, their pussy, their civil liberties. They should send those fucks to Tunisia. By the end of the first day, they'll be on their knees sobbing for the comforts of Western toilet paper.

In my experience, the only thing Tunisian prison is good for is thinking. Between constant fights to avoid starring in my own North African version of "Deliverance", I took some time to think. Let's be honest: I fucking thought myself in and out of circles. Mrs. Krycek's boy, Alexi, locked up and forgotten by all those people he'd helped so many times before, made some plans. By the time Marita showed up to get me out of there, my mental closet was so organized, it looked like I had dropped a grand at IKEA.

Trying to sleep one lice-infested night, wedged into a corner to protect my bad side, I decided that Alex Krycek has been the whipping boy of the Uber-Empire for far too long. I think I've done enough for the Consortium's covert little operations. Hell, at the very least I'd lost an arm. All the joys of pushing wheelchairs down stairs won't bring that back.

That felt good, by the way. It would have felt better if I could've managed to get Marita strapped to the old man's lap. Two for one. That's a bargain any way you call it. Well, you can't have everything.

Yet.

Ah, Marita. I loved the way she just stood there watching me shower, all blonde and cool, like an Aryan ice cube. Marita, darling, your one-armed, former love bunny took physics. He understands the principals of water expansion. Turn the heat up high enough on any frozen substance, it'll melt. Turn it higher, it will boil. When he's done with you, Marita, you will understand the principal of evaporation in a very personal way.

Promise.

These days, every morning, I wake up, look to the East and yell at the top of my lungs, "THANK CHRIST Mulder is gone!"

Really.

Can you say, "predictable asshole"? As soon as Mulder sees me, here he comes, fists a-swingin'. After my time in Tunisia, he's lucky Skinner stopped him. I feel as if I could kill with a look these days, but I probably would have broken his neck instead. Oh, he's got the intensity, he's got the brains, but Mulder...Mulder is soft.

Or should I say, *was* soft? I could kiss those black-oiled sons-of- bitches on the lips for that one. I thought Skinner was going to pass a nanite over the whole thing. It's just so beautiful. Mulder, in a mother-ship. Mulder, "lost in the stars".

God, I love my life.

With every metallic crash the wheelchair made, I could hear the door to a brand new era creak further open. The way I see it, it's festival seating time now where colonization is concerned. Everyone for themselves, whoever gets closest, wins.

Not a problem.

This time, I will make sure I'm at the front doors before they open. Deals will be struck, agreements will be made. I'll push my way to the front and take down who needs to go down on the way, if necessary. No sitting in the grandstands any more for Alex Krycek. Only front and center will do.

Let's face it, I've got the brains. I've even got the looks. Money has never been an option. The interest from my untouched funds, wasting away while I was in Tunisia, have fully paid for the motorcycle. I've splurged a bit and bought some good suits. I'm going to look as powerful as I feel. Now, I only have to wait for the right moment and make the right moves.

You see, thanks to my little bald sock-puppet of an A.D., I've heard a rumor.

"Make the best of every situation," my mother used to say. Right, Ma. I'll do that. Think I'll go pick up a baby rattle. Something in blue to match the lovely Ms. Scully's eyes. Maybe I'll go over and offer her some condolences. Offer some protection, my "assistance" during her delicate condition.

She may hem and haw at first, but eventually, she'll give in. I'll just have to keep experimenting to find the heat that makes that type of water...expand.

Life is good. Beats the hell out of Tunisia, anyway. The way things are going, maybe I'll take up smoking.

Nah. It's been done.

Notes: Did anyone else breathe a sigh of relief when Alex showed up in that prison? I know I did. Good to see the man back.

Not to mention his real back. Let's hear it for shower scenes.