X-Files M/K
Title: Dark Entries III
Author: Nicole S.
Rating: R for bad language.

Archive: Yes whoever dares to want this can have it.
Series/Sequel: Third chapter in Dark Entries Series
Webpages: Den of Sin: http://members.tripod.com/Nic-S
RatB: www.squidge.org/terma/nicole/Nicole.htm

Oh please give me some feedback - nicxf@softhome.net

Spoilers: All episodes up to and including "Closure" from Season 7 are
fair game.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they belong to Chris Carter, 1013
Productions and Fox. Please don't sue me, I have to pay for a wedding.

Summary: Some musings from Krycek on his situation.

Warning: Twisted fucked up Krycek ahoy.

Comments: Thanks to Amy B, Aries and Orithain for super fine beta.
Additional thanks to Lefey. Amazingly, this is an "R" story. Go
figger. It's amazing what you can produce on a steady diet of Slayer.

Dark Entries III
by Nicole S. (3/00)

How did he get here? How did he fall down in to this deep, dark hole?
Alex wasn't sure exactly when it happened, when he slid off the cliff
and landed with a large thud. But here he was, at rock bottom.

He read once that if you wrote your fears down, they'd go away. So
he'd sat down at a computer, tapped on the keyboard for hours, and got
the whole goddamn mess out, remembering when all the bad shit had
started to happen. He remembered every sordid detail: his training, the
people he'd hurt, and the things he'd done to survive. After he finished,
he wished he'd left most of those memories forgotten. The dead and
maimed flashed before his eyes making him feel a twinge of remorse.
But he pushed that down and didn't let it come back. Many years ago,
he'd realized he couldn't survive if he felt remorse. Those memories,
they made his arm that wasn't there ache. They also made him miss

Mulder. The one thing tying all those faces, dates and places together.
How could one man have such an influence on the lives of so many and
not realize it? The six degrees of Mulder ran deep. Alex pushed
thoughts of Mulder away and fought with himself and told himself he
should just back off, but eventually he broke his long moratorium and
sought Mulder out.

For being the headquarters of the FBI, no one who worked in the J.
Edgar Hoover building paid much attention to Alex in a black sports
car parked out front. He'd been there for hours, watching and waiting
for Mulder. It was an unusually warm day for this time of year; the
trees had blossomed early. There had been many people sitting outside
eating lunch and having coffee from a hot dog stand nearby. Alex was
going to leave and try again tomorrow, when Mulder walked out the

His heart had jumped and his pulse quickened as he watched Mulder
stride toward the hot dog stand and get in line. He had his sunglasses
on, and his tie was flapping in the wind. His hair was tousled, and it
was all Alex could do not to jump out of the car and drag him to the
ground and fuck him right then and there. It had been so long since
he'd seen him, so long since he'd watched him.

A woman bought two hot dogs and two cans of pop then left, leaving
Mulder and two other men in line. Mulder said something and the two
men as well as the hot dog vendor broke out into peals of laughter.
Mulder smirked slightly but went back to his deadpan expression while
the men's laughter faded. A woman joined at the end of the line behind
Mulder, which sent the two men laughing again. Mulder looked in the
direction of Alex's car a little too long, so Alex left him to his lunch,
vowing to see him later that day.

He had followed him for a week, non-stop, to the basketball court, to
work, grocery shopping, everywhere. Alex noticed something about
Mulder: He was happy. He thought of Mulder laughing with the guys
at lunch, joking with the guys at the gym, with Scully. Mulder didn't
need them. Mulder didn't need to flirt with the girl at Starbucks, or the
clerk at the bank. When he had Alex, when Alex had him. When they
had each other, they wouldn't need anyone else.

Everything had been a blur before that, and Alex really couldn't have
said how long it had been since he'd seen Mulder, but a long time had
passed since Mulder kissed Scully. That one horrible moment still
haunted him and made his world slip away and shatter. That moment
when he felt the monster appear inside him and not go away. It was
still there. He could feel it waiting for him to call it up again.

But it was just a kiss, right? He tried to convince himself that it was
just lips meeting then parting, people did it every day. // It's not like
threw her down and fucked her// Alex shuddered every time he
thought about it, and sometimes he needed to throw things and break
things or people to rid himself of the memory. Sometimes it was hard
for Alex not to drive to Scully's house and put a bullet through her

But he'd never do that. He'd had chances to do it before, but didn't.
The only thing that kept her alive was the fact that her death would
destroy Mulder. And he loved him too much to do that to him.

The day after Alex had killed that hustler, he went to New Orleans to
purge himself of the want and need for Mulder. He figured that was
good place as any to drink away his feelings with whisky and
chartreuse, and fuck away his desire with a bounty of young, horny
men. But that didn't work, it just increased his desire for Mulder and
his libido, and sometimes the young men that he went out with never
got home again.

Then they found him. The thugs dragged him out of the bar he was in
and shoved him into the back of a car, pressed a gun to his temple and a
phone to his ear.

It was the smoker. He seemed to think Alex was his, yet had no claim
to him at all.

"She's dead, Alex," he whimpered. "She's killed herself. Please come
back, I need you."

Alex wasn't going to go. He was going to tell the old man to go fuck
himself, and hang up the phone. But he was in no position to argue.
So, he went to New York and consoled the smoker's withered up sorry
ass and made him feel better about himself just like he always did when
called to duty.

// I know what my priorities are.//

Ah, that poor bastard, grieving for a woman that he himself had
convinced life wasn't worth living. Gentle persuasion from a lost love
can do so much when you're seemingly all alone.

After a few days, and after the old man had stopped blubbering enough
to stand straight, they went for a little ride to Scully's place. Alex was
hoping Mulder would be there, but the old man said he was working on
a case in California.

Alex knew what Mulder was working on; he'd seen him on TV. That
nearly drove him crazy. He wanted to be with him, he wanted to see
him, to touch him, to smell him, to tell him it was okay, and with
everyone gone, he wouldn't have to worry anymore. But he couldn't.
He could only whimper at the television and chauffeur that old bastard
around like the little pawn he knew he was.

After the smoker had met with Scully, and Alex had driven him back to
the apartment, he'd said those magic words: "Alex, you're free to go."


A few hours and well-placed phone calls later, Alex found out Mulder
was back in California.

Alex had on another disguise on the plane to LA. This one was a dark
wig pulled down low to shorten his hairline, and a moustache and beard
like that wrestler he liked so much on TV. He had in false teeth, and
padded his stomach and chest. Mulder and Scully weren't anywhere
near the airport, but he couldn't take any chances.

He caught up to them at their motel and parked outside, the tinted
windows of his vehicle enough to conceal him from prying eyes. The
digital infared microphone just needed an inch of open space to hear
the goings on inside Mulder's motel room. Alex had suspected what
had happened, how Mulder finally learned the truth. The smoker had
told him that Mulder was very close. But listening to him grieve in his
motel room just verified the facts.

Poor Mulder. It was almost too much to bear.

Mulder cried and cried into his pillow, all night, all alone. Alex cried
along with him from his position inside his car, crying for the pain and
grief of listening to him sob through his headphones. Mulder wept for
his sister, his mother, his father. He asked why a lot.

Scully came out to stand in front of Mulder's door a couple of times;
she could probably hear him from the room next door. She made
motions to go knock on his door to possibly comfort Mulder, but she
stopped every time. She knew when to give him space.

"Oh, Mulder," she'd said, Alex reading her lips through the binoculars.
She touched the door then went back to her own room.

A twinge of jealousy ran through Alex. If he and Mulder were still
partners, Alex could have been the one to console him. He could have
comforted him.

// I can be your family, Mulder. I can make you happy.//

In the morning, Mulder dried his eyes, and they all went home. // Now
he knows the truth about Samantha, but he'll never know the truth
about his mother.// Not if Spender had his way.

But that didn't matter right now.

Alex looked over at Mulder sleeping. Unconscious, actually. He was
beautiful that way. Still, except for his chest rising and falling with his
breaths, and his eyelashes fluttering. It was too bad he had to wake up,
but he had to, eventually

And Alex knew this was wrong

But he couldn't stop if he wanted to

// I've fallen and I can't get up//

// But now he's mine//

// And when he wakes, I'll be his.//

The end of Dark Entries III