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My Dead Boyfriend

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My Dead Boyfriend By Katy Deery

This story was inspired by a discussion on the M/K mailing list. Someone referred to Brooklyn Bentleigh's "Laid to Rest," and someone *else* complained that there ought to be story with *Mulder* dead. M/K'ers seem to be developing a disturbing fondness for funny necrophilia stories.

Katy would like to emphasize that she means no offense to anyone in the psychiatric profession.

My Dead Boyfriend
By Katy Deery

"Come in, Mr. Krycek, or may I call you Alex?"

Krycek noted the psychiatrist's attractiveness with clinical detachment. He wondered if she charged more because of it and decided that she probably did.

"Alex is fine, Dr. Porter."

She gestured to a chair and he sat down across from her. He wore his most earnest expression, one that he'd perfected over the years, never underestimating the usefulness of naivete in certain situations.

"Now why don't you tell me what the problem is."

Direct, Krycek thought. He rather liked that, but then in her business, time was money. No doubt he'd be cured as soon as his ran out.

"It's my boyfriend."

The gender didn't bother her, but then he hadn't expected it to.

"You're having problems with your relationship?"

Krycek hunched forward in his seat. "You could say that. He's dead."

She did seemed a little unprepared for this announcement, but quickly recovered.

"I see. And you're finding it hard to cope with this fact?"

Krycek shook his head impatiently. "No, I know he's dead. I dug him up last week, just to make sure there wasn't a mistake. These things happen you know," he told her with just the right amount of paranoia.

The psychiatrist's eyes widened. "You...uh..dug him up you say?" She moved restlessly in her seat and made a few notes on her pad. Alex waited patiently. "Ah, how did that make you feel?"

Krycek sighed happily. He'd been waiting for that one and would have felt short-changed if she hadn't used the phrase at least once during his session.

"Well, at first I felt kinda relieved. I thought I might have killed the wrong guy by accident."

By now Dr Porter was positively squirming in her seat and looking at the closed door anxiously. Alex on the other hand was thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Thing is, I didn't expect to miss him, you know?" Krycek smoothed the denim on his jeans nervously. "It's the little things really. The slap across the back of my head when he woke up in the morning. The way he always liked to push a gun up my left nostril before going to work. All those little tokens of love we take for granted until they're not there anymore." He looked to the doctor for understanding, and she smiled glassily at him as she tried to unobtrusively rub the sweat off her top lip.

"I guess that was the real reason I dug him up," he continued since the doctor didn't seem eager to interrupt. "I hadn't had any... you know... for a while. It was getting embarrassing. Once I even tried humping his FBI badge. Oh, did I tell you he was an agent with the bureau? Anyway, he wasn't in too bad a condition when I dug him up, so I decided to take him home. Better than the badge any day, I thought." Krycek smiled foolishly in fond remembrance. Dr. Porter thought she might be about to throw up.

"So what I need to know is, do you think I'm sick? I mean, I know I should let him go out more, meet new people, but it's so hard. I just want him all to myself."

The gargling noise he received in reply seemed to reassure him. "That's great, doc. Best 500 dollars I ever spent." He stood up and made his way quickly to the door.

"Oh, by the way, say hello to Mulder for me, would you?"

And then he shot her point blank between the eyes.