From: Suzanne Date: 10 Sep 2002 18:41:28 -0700 Subject: [all-xf] NEW FIC: Hate You Then I Love You Source: atxc TITLE: Hate You Then I Love You AUTHOR: Bobbi DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me. Interpretations and ideas are mine. RATING: Um... PG-13 for language an' other stuff. SUMMARY: Mare, Alex, life, and 'death'. KEYWORDS: Marita, Krycek, post-ep, MKR, Skamperfic. SPOILERS: Existence ARCHIVE: Other than Gossamer and Ephemeral, ask. FEEDBACK: Send to AmericanPadme@aol.com. THANKS: To Sasha. Chess forever! You realize what you've gotten me into, don't you? Now, one of these days, I expect you to teach me how to play! ___________________________________________________________________ She wonders, quite often actually, whether he's in Heaven or Hell. She definitely can't see him as an angel. She can, however, see him battling the devil for his reign in Hell. She smirks at the thought. Whether the land of the damned and the grassy, sunny field of the heroes do indeed exist, or if it is just a product of our own human yearning for something more than this mortal life, she's not sure. She'd like to think there's something beyond... wouldn't we all, really? Mare remembers him - she's memorized his scent, his face, the way he gently scolds her when he's tired of her teasing and wants to cut to the chase and get the good stuff. And, if she tries hard enough, sometimes she can still feel him. She hates him for leaving her here - for dying on her. She really, truly does. She knows perfectly well he never intended it, but she still hates him for it. Or maybe she loves him for it. Oh, fucking damn it. In Mare and Alex's book, love and hate have practically become synonyms, contradictory, in actuality, as they may be. The thin line between the two has dissolved: they always use the words so interchangeably to refer to their affections, and, at times, utter hatred, of each other, that sometimes when they're fucking, Mare slips and says, "I hate you, Alex," instead of "I love you." She wonders why she still thinks of him in the present tense. Maybe it's denial. Most likely, it's denial. She doesn't want him to be dead, can't believe he's dead: that's why she keeps waiting for him to walk back through her door again, tell her it's all some kind of joke, that he's gotten her *badly* this time, and smirk at her and laugh shortly before saying, "Let's fuck, Mare." She would try to resist him, as she always did - she loved playing hard to get. But, in the end, he'd win. He always did. Mare and Alex really just hurt each other and then do it again, although they've gotten so used to it, it could be termed an everyday occurrence for them. She doesn't mind when he hurts her. She used to, but she was quickly forced to get over that. Because, when he hurts her, she feels alive. But he's gone again. Forever, she thinks, this time. She can see him, smirking at her, in Heaven or Hell: looking down, or up at her, and thinking: "Mare, I got you again." And certainly enough, he had. But - to be had was to have never again. She remembers a late-night conversation that now seems eons ago. "Alex... go fuck the red Speedo boy. You *know* you want to." He'd smirked at her shortly before he'd burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" she'd asked. "You, Mare," he'd responded, that damned smile still on his face. "I've seen him in a Speedo, yes, but I have to say, I wasn't impressed - " "You can't deceive me - at least not about this. I see how you look at him." "Mare, if I didn't know you better, I could swear you were jealous." His eyes had been teasing her - daring her - to take this any further. To take him on. "No," she'd said, her expression growing serious. "I'm sure we can find more attractive men in Speedos, though - " "Mare," he'd said, taking her hand in his, "I'll never leave you. Don't you know that?" "Fucking liar," she'd called him. It hadn't escalated into an argument, it'd just been the usual bantering. Maybe though, just maybe - there was a shade of truth in that. She drifts off to a light sleep. Serene and peaceful, but not really at rest. She hasn't rested - since that night - Mare's gonna damn him. No wait, Mare's gonna kill him. No, Mare's gonna kill him and *then* damn him, he realizes as he punches the numerical code into the security system at the front of her estate, and the gates swing open. He's been gone for too long this time, and she's probably received word of his death, just like the others, he's sure - what if she won't take him back this time? Maybe he would be better off dead and damned. Life would be so much easier if he was just a Chess player, and Mare, some glamorous model - which he can definitely see her as. It's just... fitting. Much more fitting than where they've both ended up in life. He doesn't even bother to knock. Doesn't want to wake her, even though he realizes she's probably not sleeping, if he knows her at all. He picks the lock easily and steps in, easily making his way back to Mare's bedroom, even in the dark. She *is* asleep, after all. And she's talking to herself. "I'm sure we can find you... more attractive men in Speedos." He smirks and lays down beside her on the bed, his arm encircling her waist. "Mare, I had you. I got you fucking *bad* this time..." A small smile creeps across her face as she sleeps, and he wonders if she's dreaming that his arms are around her, that he's whispering this to her now. Kissing her lightly, he stays there beside her. He briefly wonders why her name is still sweet on his lips. He wonders why sex with Mare is so appealing, considering how many times they've screwed each other over, how many times he seriously thought about killing her. Alex Krycek is simply just simply an obstinate little boy doing something he knows he shouldn't be, all over again: and living off the high and enjoyment from that. Mare, he told himself, was just along for the ride. And possibly, probably... no, in all likelihood, actually... along for the cheap, quick lay on the side. That was his Mare. -end- *fin*