A useless bit of fluff written because I can. There are no
other redeeming qualities to this story, but I'm still rather
fond of it. <g> This story is rated G for extremely benign
content, can be archived to ArchiveX (wherever it lives now and
will also be making guest appearances at The Ratfic Library and
my own homepage. Okay to archive elsewhere, if you feel any great
need to do so, but please ask me first.
Chris Carter owns them, and would probably be somewhat relieved upon hearing that I've written this, given some of the other stuf I've set to paper. This, by the way, still does not mean that I lay any claim on the characters, nor am I making a dime off of this. Since I'm not being payed, any comments would be greatly appreciated;-)
You now, I thought you would have learned by now. You've been living in this place for next to forever, and that's hardly a smart thing to do. We both know how intelligent you are, so act like it! You should realize that the longer someone lives in one place, the easier it gets to watch them. You're long overdue for a move, my friend. But no, you've apparently stayed here for years, even though we're both aware that the Consortium wants you stopped. All they'd ever have to do is hire a cab, you know that? A forty minute drive from their place to yours and you'd be dead. It is a great thought, though - we know where you live. I think you'd enjoy the irony of that if you let me live long enough to relate it to you.
I'm amazed at how dark it is in here; these hallways suck the light out of your very soul. It's surprising - your occupation forces you to spend so much time in dark places, I would have thought you'd want a little light occasionally. But then, I sometimes forget that you actively seek out verything dark in life. Still, you could do better than this cave; it's well within your means. And that brings us to our second point - security. Do you know how many times I've been in your apartment of late? How many times I've watched you, either for my employers or of my own volition? I'm pretty sure that last one would surprise you. Me, watching you? Admiring you? Well, we did work together, you know. You can't possibly hope to exist in that type of environment next to someone without feeling an attachment on some level. Even before I met you, I was preparing myself for that inevitable consequence. And if you were closer to what I wanted than anyone I'd met before, I think I did an admirable job of keeping it under wraps. After all, my involvement with you was purely professional at that point. But not any longer. I've always been brash; there isn't much that I won't risk in order to get things done. And if you think climbing a few flights of stairs is enough to deter me, you're fucking wrong.
I can see you now, and the closer I get, the more real you become. Do you know that the smell of this building reminds me of you? If you knew I thought that, it would probably disgust you, especially after everything I've done. And yet, I don't give a fuck about that either. Step after step, bringing me closer. Your face swims in and out of my vision - your eyes, your lips, your mouth, and yes, your lips. God, what lips they are. I know how you move, and each time we meet, I learn a little more about how you think, more than any file could ever tell me. I'll be at your door, soon, so soon. I can physically feel how close I'm getting to you. Do you have the same awareness of me approaching? If you do, I'm willing to bet it's an acute yet strangely insignificant pain. You probably hate me; but it doesn't matter now because I'm so close to your door.
I'm not carrying a gun, and I hope that will be enough to convince you that I haven't come here to harm you. I admit it; the odds are stacked against me and you'll probaly shoot me as soon as you see me, especially since I'm showing up on your front stoop. It's disappointing, in a way. A man's home may be his castle, but yours was fucking easy to storm. Yes, I've little doubt that you'll try to kill me as soon as you realize I've invaded it. Still, I may have a few seconds of grace before you attack me, due mostly to the fact that you won't recognize me in the shape I'm in now. I haven't shaved in days, and there are probably shadows under my eyes. You realize it's all your fault: you keep odd hours and watching you is an endeavour in a class of its own. The leather of my jacket creaks as I lean against your doorframe. One knock, then two. I wait.
Oh God, I wish you could see the expression on your face when you open the door - it's absolutely priceless. No one's eyes should open that wide. No, you never would have expected me to show up here, not in a thousand years. I probably shouldn't be grinning like an idiot, but I am, and there's nothing you can do about it. "So, Krycek," I say. "Are you going to let me in, or just stand there gaping at me?"
Halfchild Made This!
October 7, 1998