Author: Lady Midath
Lady Midath's Fan Fiction
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they are owned by Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Production.
Fandom: X Files
Pairing: Fox Mulder/Alex Krycek
Rating NC17
Spoilers: Please assume all episodes
Archive: Yes to Terror Unknown and WWOMB, all others please ask first.
Summary: The insanity of need, and revenge
Warning: This fic is very dark indeed. It contains angst, strong language some violence
and a very nasty twist at the end... you get the picture.
Thank you to Ursula for beta reading above and beyond the call of duty.
Email: ribrice@yahoo.co.uk
Website: http://www.geocities.com/ribrice
This story has been written for the Terror Unknown competition
Category: Purple Bruise
Perfect Symmetry
by Lady Midath
ALEX
I can see him there, sitting all alone at the bar, nursing a drink. Not the first of the night either by the way he's listing on his stool. No, he looks as though he has knocked back quite a few indeed.
He has no idea that I am sitting here at the back of this dingy little bar watching him. I nurse my vodka, he nurses his tequila and all is right with the world. Well, his world anyway. God, how I hate him. The thought clenches in my gut. I can't help it. I stare down at my newly restored hand and smile, but the smile is hot and I can taste the bitterness that fills my mouth.
Mulder sits, lifting his drink to his mouth using his perfectly good hand. His arm bends like any normal arm, even through his coat jacket, I can see how perfectly shaped it is. An arm that has never been severed clean off. An arm that has never had to be grown back again. The sight of him fills my mind and a bright light lances behind my eyes and like a silent flower, blooms in my
vision. How dare he? My hand clenches and unclenches with almost painful spasmodic movements. Then the smile returns. He left me once, left me to die. Left me at the mercy of those peasants, the ones who thought to save me by mutilating me.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead now and I use my hand, the left one to wipe it away. Memories already begin to crowd me. The screams, the smell of blood, rich and coppery as it gushed to the peaty ground. The stink of the peasants as they pressed around me, the smells of
sweat and dirt and despair filling my nostrils, making my stomach lurch. Pain, oh sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the pain. I thought that I would die, and in the end, after I saw what they had done to me, I wanted to.
My arm was taken away and thrown onto the fire. I had lain on the filthy blanket, my life's blood draining away from me watching dully as my arm blackened and burned. The blistered flesh peeling away from bone. I can't remember if I wept. Oh I know that I cursed. I cursed
them all with every vitriolic epitaph I could think of. I cursed the filthy ignorant animals that had done this to me. I cursed the Consortium and the Russians that ran the gulag that Mulder had taken me from. I cursed Skinner and the Smoking Man. But the worst curses, the ones most filled with hatred, they were reserved for Mulder himself.
My hands shake now with the pure emotion that feel seeing him again. I knot my hands into fists but it does no good. I flex them out again. I love the way the muscles feel under soft skin. The way they stretch and contract like playful kittens nestled within warm flesh.
Slowly I look around the bar, despite the dim light, I can see everything clearly. As clear as though a bright summer light was streaming in. My sight is clearer now, my hearing keen. Jeremiah Smith had explained to me that all my senses would be sharper, more attuned. It was one of the perks of being brought back to life.
Ah, he's getting ready to leave now. Slowly, moving with the exaggerated care of someone quite drunk, I see him take his wallet out of his pants pocket and hand the bartender several bills. Skirting around the tables, he heads for the exit. I follow. Whistling a jaunty tune, Mulder heads down the street, hands tucked into the pocket of his dress pants. Spoiling the line of your Armani suit trousers. I think as I follow him, careful to keep a discreet distance. I don't want to be caught now. Hell I had already been shot and killed by his boss, Skinner, once before and I sure as hell don't want to experience the afterlife again. Not after what I have seen.
There he goes now, through the front door of his apartment building. No doubt heading for the elevator that will take him up to his dingy lifeless apartment and to another lonely night in his bed. But all that is about to change. Another smile spreads over my face, hotter and more ferocious then the one before. With every nerve tingling in my body, I finally make the decision that would ultimately change my life and start towards the building...and up to Mulder's
flat.
MULDER
I knew that he was there all along. I could feel his presence, I could almost smell his hate. Funny, I always thought that Alex would be a hell of a lot more careful than this. He was practically out in the open, those haunting green eyes blazing, drilling a hole right between my shoulder blades.
Oh God, I can see the fury radiating off him. He hates well, and he hates me. The thought causes my stomach to roll sickeningly. He hates me enough to come back from the grave and haunt me. Nice to have someone feel that strongly about you.
Pushing the thought of Alex Krycek away, I order another drink, then another. I am not drunk, but I sway a little, pretending to be off balance. Let Krycek think that I am drunk, that way if he tries anything, he will get the shock of his miserable rodent life.
I watch him in the mirror set just above the racks of gleaming bottles. I watch him watch me. His eyes burn green. Sexy boyyy... The song wafts out from the hidden speaker lilting into the cool dimness of the room. Sexy boyyy. Haunting song, beautiful. There is no doubt that this song is for Alex, green eyed godling that he is.
Suddenly I have had enough of this charade. The hunter and the hunted, the predator and the prey. We have to end this somehow. End this now and for good. I get up, being sure to stagger a little as I pay the overweight bartender. I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. Ratboy is getting to his feet as well, eager little rodent that he is. I smile, cool and calm. So the hunt begins. I leave the bar, deliberately walking past my car. Let him trail me as I walk, hell it's a nice night anyway.
Footsteps muted and moving with an old familiar rhythm that I knew so well. Ah Alex, you always moved with a peculiar grace. Like a panther. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I loved him once, long ago.
I walk ahead of him, feeling the power of him behind me. The hunter and the hunted. The predator and the prey. The endless dance, a timeless totentanz. The dance of death.
Dance me to the end of love.
I can't help but hum that song under my breath, it seems so appropriate somehow. And we will dance tonight, Alex and I...to the end and whatever lay beyond. I am ready for him and have been ever since the alien healer, Jeremiah Smith came to me, to inform me that Alex had been restored to life.
Angry at the thought of Krycek alive once, yet strangely excited by it, I asked Smith why he had healed Alex. Why had he brought the assassin back to life. I recall the enigmatic smile that the healer had given me. Eyes regarding my face with the patience and wisdom of the ages. "There is still so much between you that needs to be finished." He had replied. "Still so much there, and you will both face yourselves in each other, and either be saved...or damned." I had
laughed at that. Saved, not in this lifetime. Damned, well weren't we already?
Inwardly I sigh, Smith had been right about one thing, unfinished business can never rest. Tonight we will face each other, hunter and hunted. Predator and prey, and tonight will decide our fates, Alex's and mine. One way or another, the dance will end.
ALEX
The apartment is dark, carefully I skirt around the bulky outline of furniture and head straight towards Mulder's bedroom. I can hear the heavy snores of one who is completely inebriated. "Sleep, baby, sleep." I croon gently as I carefully step around the pile of discarded clothes. Another heavy snore. I am standing next to his bed now, standing over him, watching his face semi illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the half open window.
I reach around to slip my knife out from where it's hidden in my belt. It flashes in the air, the moonlight catching the blade for an instant. I bring it down...and miss.
Mulder rolls to one side and the knife slices down, striking his pillow instead. A hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, hauling down and taking me with it. Jesus, he had struck quicker than a snake.
"Hello, ratboy." Mulder says with a grin. I find myself staring into a pair of hazel eyes, hectic with fury, and something else. Something that lurks deep within him. "Fuck you." I grunt and try to haul myself back but Mulder has the advantage now.
I'm kneeling half on and half off the bed. His surprise maneuver has me off balanced and trapped. "Bet you wished you had decided to use a gun instead, huh, Lexi?" he spits his old pet name back at me venomously.
I recoil slightly, then remembering what I am here for, I smile at him. "Save your breath Mulder." I whisper almost tenderly. "Because you are going to need it when I slit your throat."
A sharp bark of a laugh and suddenly I find myself thrown backwards off the bed and onto the hard wooden floor. I strike my head against his nightstand and I feel the warm trickle of blood as it runs down the side of my face.
Uncoiling himself, Mulder steps of the bed and leans over me, regarding me with eyes that are no longer sane. "And that's just for starters you treacherous bastard." He breathes.
Alarmed now at how swiftly things had started to go wrong, I scramble backwards, knife still in hand. Gathering my wits as best as I could, I grasp the knife tighter and use it to lash out at him. He laughs and sidesteps out of the way. Then before I even knows what's happening, Mulder throws a punch at the side of my head. Blackness explodes behind my eyes and I feel myself carried away into blissful unawareness.
MULDER
Poor Alex, he never had a chance. He thought that I would be an easy mark, just like my father had been. But Alex should have realized one thing. Never underestimate your enemy.
I kneel down beside him, regarding the slack face. A trickle of red drips down his cheek, a scarlet counterpoint to the pale delicate looking skin. God he's beautiful, I can't help but think.
Hesitantly, I reach out and wipe the blood away with my hand. I loved him once, so many years ago. Loved him and had made love to him. To the sweet green... and somehow innocent young agent that he had once been.
Suddenly I find myself gazing at his newly restored arm. The arm he had lost in Tunguska. I find myself somehow drawn to it. Slowly I run my hand up and down the length of bone and sinew and firm unyielding flesh.
I can feel myself growing hard, I want him, but not like this. I want the old Alex, the cripple, the amputee. I hate this perfectly restored symmetry. As sick as it sounded, I wanted the hurting Alex back.
Something inside me craved the pain that I had seen in his eyes after he had returned to America. The way that he had held himself, stiff and awkward at first, then later, relaxed and at peace with his loss and to some extent, himself.
Oh I know how this sounds, the ramblings of a deranged man. But I did not want this new Alex,I wanted the old. Once again my hand reaches out to caress him and I allow the darkness that has festered for so long inside me to surface and swallow me whole.
ALEX
Slowly and with great reluctance I come to. God my head hurts, what the fuck did Mulder hit me with? And more to the point, why can't I move?
Fighting down panic, I open my eyes and stare down at my body. My naked body. Okay, this isn't good.
Swallowing hard, my eyes travel towards my hands. I am sitting in a chair, bound hand and foot with thick strong cord. I struggle but it's futile, I'm tied up tighter than a Thanksgiving turkey. Shit, why the fuck did I underestimate the son of a bitch? How could I have been so fucking stupid? Well no use kicking myself about it now, I haven't a free foot to do it with anyway.
Suddenly, Mulder comes into view, dressed now in a pair of faded gray sweats. His hair is tousled, damp with sweat. His face flushed and damp as well. The tip of his tongue flicks out to swipe over his lips, then disappears again. He looks almost...aroused.
He approaches me, eyes shining. Suddenly my instincts kick into high gear and I am very aware of how deep the shit is that I'm in now. My stomach churns but I say nothing. I have found through experience that whenever I'm in danger, always let the other man speak first. That way I can get a feel for which way the wind is going to blow, so to speak.
Mulder smiles, and I feel a chill down to the bone. There is no sanity in that smile. His eyes have become strange, a yellow light deep within their once clear depths. Suddenly he leans towards me, the smile, as thin and sharp as a razor still in place. I fight the urge to recoil away from him. I can't afford to show any fear at all. Then I realize how ridiculous that thought was. I'm helpless, tied to a chair and with a man that hates my guts. A man that I know has been skirting the fringes of lunacy for some time now. A man who I think has finally tipped over the edge.
"What's wrong, Alex?" Mulder asks mockingly. "Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?"
"I have plenty to say." I reply. "Like, would you please untie me?"
Mulder's smile widened. "A reasonable request, let me think about it." He cocks his head to the side for a moment, then replies. "No."
I sigh. "I didn't think so."
Then, without warning, Mulder's hand finds it's way onto my lap. I gasp in surprise as his hand squeezes my cock. "I've missed this, Alex." He says casually as his thumb rubs over the tip of my cock. I grit my teeth, willing his hand away. "Think we could pick up where we left off?"
I hear the undercurrent of laughter in his words and I have to fight the urge to scream at him to let go of my cock. Instead I watch him closely, trying to work out just how crazy he's become.
"Poor Alex." Mulder continues, still massaging my dick, and not gently either. "I knew you were in that bar earlier. I could feel you watching me. Just as I knew you were following me home. I pretended to be drunk you know; to throw you off guard. It seems that my little ruse worked."
I can feel my jaw clench with helpless rage. Stupid, stupid asshole. How could I have fallen for it. Then the truth hits me, having my life restored, my arm given back has made me arrogant. I had cheated death and now I believed myself impervious to it.
Closing my eyes, I fight down the nausea that rises in my throat. I had committed the cardinal sin. I had allowed myself to become careless, and now I was at the mercy of my former lover, my worst enemy.
MULDER
Unfamiliar feelings flood through me as I watch Alex squirm. Sensations that I had not felt in so long. They feel good, powerful. Finally dropping his half erect member, I decide to stop teasing him and get down to the business at hand.
I hear myself talking, explaining to Alex why it is what I am about to do. He stares up at me, his eyes wide, unable to comprehend what I am trying to tell him. Finally I give up, he'll understand later, after all I'll have plenty of time making him understand.
Slowly, not wanting to alarm him, I approach, his eyes nearly standing out of his head when he see what is in my hand.
"I want you back the way you were, Lexi." I whisper. "I want the hurting Lexi back, the one that will need me to help him heal. I want your pain, and your need."
Alex gibbers something but I ignore him, steeling myself to the task ahead.
"This will hurt me more than it hurts you." I tell him soothingly.
Alex begins to shake his head frantically from side to side, begging now. Then his pleas turn to screams that echo in the cool dim bedroom as I lower the carving knife over the faint line that had once been scar tissue. The warm flesh of his left arm, and I make the first cut.
THE END
ribrice@yahoo.co.uk
http://www.geocities.com/ribrice