Pieces II: Choices
Pieces II: Choices
Title: Pieces II: Choices
Author's Website: http://www.geocities.com/xfox7/
Pairing (Primary): Mulder/Krycek
Crossover Fandom (if any):
Crossover Info (if any):
Other Pairing Info:
Spoilers: Sein und Zeit and Closure.
Permission to Archive:
Series or Sequel/Prequel: A collection of snippets -- they are unrelated to one another. They are just grouped by style.
Summary: Krycek POV. Schmoop alert.
Have you ever done something that you thought you'd never do? And were you questioning yourself as you were doing it? I just want to know that I'm not alone, that I'm not the only fool out there doing crazy things. You know, just for a change of pace. Usually I'm completely alone in these things.
Well, see, in my life, I don't really have too many options. I can do something that will save my life, but end someone else's, or I can die. End of story. So I choose to live. Selfishness is a wonderful thing. So is fear of death. Both go real far in making you learn to survive in the world.
Just so you get a clear picture, I want to emphasize the fact that running into Fox Mulder is usually NOT a choice I make. It just happens. Quite often, in fact. I get through it - maybe lose a limb - but I live to see another day. Sometimes a day that is time zones away from the day before, but a day all the same.
I've tried to stay away from him since my stint as a FBI agent ended. And like I said, when I do see him, it isn't a choice. But just because it is not a choice doesn't mean I don't like it. He's the only person I truly understand, and if he'd ever really listen to me, look at me, then he could understand me totally too. It's there. It's natural. It's like we're two halves of one whole. No, that's not cheesy. It's true. We are meant to be together. He's the good. I'm the bad. I can fulfill all the things his baser nature can dream up, and he's the Boy Scout for the both of us.
But until all of this shit is over, he can't begin to believe in an "us" - believe in me. He won't let himself. I've seen the glimmer of understanding in his eyes before, in the cell in Tunguska, saw it that night I went...
Jesus. The memories of that night always knock the breath out of me. I don't know what I was thinking - wait, I wasn't thinking. It was a choice I made subconsciously. I chose to show him a glimpse of the truth and of me. But I regretted it so much. Not the kiss, but just the...whole thing. It was irresponsible, dangerous. How could I even expect him to trust me, understand me.
I never regret the kiss, though. I hold onto it for dear life. I guess I do because I think I'll never again get the chance to feel his stubbley five o'clock shadow skin under my lips. Or his body so open to me as it was in those few seconds. He wanted me. I know he did. I could see it and feel in his body and eyes before he even knew it was there. It was emanating off of him like a heat wave.
It was so hard to leave him. I wanted to make love to him right then and there. Push him down on the floor and kiss him until he was gasping for breath. Take off all his clothes piece by piece. Touch him everywhere. But I couldn't do it. I realized that I wanted him to want it too; I wanted him to come willingly. I wanted him to know exactly what was happening, what it entailed. I wanted to feel him pursue me. I wanted him to want me as much as I want him.
So today is a choice I'm making for me. And him. He just doesn't know it's for him too. It would be so easy to walk away and deny what I feel. But I could only hold out for a few minutes before I'd be running back to him. And until I leave this comforting circle of trees that is sheltering me, I'll be half a person. I just can't leave this alone. I have to share this with him for some reason. I feel like if something happens to him it happens to me. I'm connected to him by a thin wire, and every time somebody plucks that wire, I feel the vibrations just as strongly as, if not more than, he does.
I walk out of the tree circle cautiously. I move closer to where he is standing, the row of stones standing erect before him. He's not crying. He's not even frowning. He looks content. And I gasp in amazement. He hears. He turns and looks into my eyes, squinting his own as if he can dive deeper into mine that way. He speaks.
And I feel my chest begin to ache as it always does around him. I speak.
He quirks a half smile. Raises an eyebrow. Pushes his hands deeper into his pockets. He shakes his head once, quickly.
He says, "No - Fox."
I know my face is registering confusion because he laughs - a short, happy sound. I lick my lips and speak again.
The name rolls off my tongue as if I was born to say it. He nods his head in approval. He turns back around to what he was looking at before I interrupted him. He's not tense. In fact, he's more relaxed than I've ever seen him. I test him out.
He just nods, still turned away.
He looks up into the clouds, white puffs tinged with darkness, signaling rain later. He closes his eyes. After a minute, he looks back at me. Smiles.
It's now or never. I move past him and place the flowers I've been holding in my sweaty hand beside her headstone. When I step back he's beside me. He grabs my hand in his own two.
"It's over, Alex. Samantha. My mom. It's over."
I can only nod. He tugs on my hand and turns to walk away, towards his car parked in the cemetery driveway, pulling me with him. I have no idea what's happening or where we're going. I have a choice - go with him where he is leading or leave him. But really there is no choice. I go with him. And we find closure together.
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