From: Bruce Press Date: Sun, 23 Jan 2000 00:03:20 -0500 Subject: IF(1/1) by Tabitha Press Source: direct Title: If (1/1) Author: Tabitha Press Email: bpress@seva.net Archive: YES PLEASE YES! Rating: PG? PG-13? Category: Vignette/Angst Keywords: Krycek, Krycek and more Krycek Summary: Krycek pounders how he came to be where he is. Spoilers: For any and all Krycek eps. Disclaimer: I want him, but I don t own him. The big man on campus does. I never cared for people much. I never thought of myself as a revolutionary. I didn t give a damn about anyone, anything that wasn t me, or directly affected me. I rolled with the punches, took the good with the bad, and every other clich. In high school, I had friends, I wasn t popular with the preps or such, but with the ones who were likely to grow up to be the rulers of the free world. It didn t matter, nothing affected me, I was content with how others thought of me, but I wasn t content with my position in the world. I came from the typical middle class family, my father a police officer, my mother the manager of the local branch of J.C. Penny s. I wanted more, I wanted fame, I wanted to live in comfort, I wanted to be the best at something. That something was more or less, in my opinion then, was science or math. I was the only one who got excited when my teacher talked about imaginary numbers, I lived for math. Scratch that I lived to prove myself to myself. I needed to know that I could do what ever I wanted to do. What I did was far different from anything that I dreamed possible. I was an overachiever in high school, and besides learning French, I took Russian at the local college. My parents thought I was crazy, what use would that be when I was an adult. I told them I didn t know but I wanted to learn it. Learn it, I did. Not only did it become useful, I wouldn t be alive with out. No, I would be dead, and forgotten. Not even a happy memory would be left. I did what I set out to do, I impacted lives, sure I destroyed some in the process, but one must deal with the bad as well as the good. The good, what good came out of it? What positive thing did I do for anyone, for anything, the answer echos in my mind, nothing for anyone. It saddens me to a point, that only men, who have lived their lives alone can get to. It s the point where, I realized no one gives a damn. I am nothing. Nothing, echos in my mind. No, I can t write that I am nothing. I am everything. A crook, thief, traitor, son, father, friend, enemy, lover, giver of life, taker of life, I am everything. Was, my mind corrects. In a moment of weakness, my judgement faltered. I sent a message, no note really, to the man who wants me dead, explaining everything. Everything, the oilens, the abductions, his sister Samantha. Sam, the whole reason why Mulder is Mulder. It s funny to think he created me, he made me. Maybe I am being to harsh. Maybe I m blaming it on others. No that s not good. I ve got to clear my conscience. Must be honest, honest. Ha, I haven t said a honest word since I met the Cigarette smoking bastard. I didn t want to be his pet, his spy. If I had realized what it would lead to, IF. Yes, if. If I hadn t betrayed Mulder, if I hadn t wanted to hurt him, if I didn t sell out to the Russians, then betray them again. Yes, that s a big if. And IF I hadn t. No, I jerk out of that line of thinking. I can t go down that path. A man like me wouldn t be able to live with himself if he went down the if s and what not s. Not that I am, going to live that is, much longer anyway. I did what I did, and I have to deal with it. I made a pact with the devil, and I must live with it, but first I must make right the wrongs I did. Who would have thought that I would even try to do that. Me? Mr. Go Fuck off, if god didn t want us to eat cows, he wouldn t have made them so tasty. Mr. If god wanted the birds to live he wouldn t have made them endangered. Ha, I used to think that was funny. I realize now that my sarcasm was my defense. My ability not to become attached, to those I killed, and betrayed. Why didn t it work with Mulder? My brain screams at me. Mulder, it echoes. Yes, I must get back on track. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder created me, because with out him being fanatical about his little green men, CSM wouldn t have needed me, and I would still be on the fast track in the bureau, instead of this rundown hotel, waiting for death. Of course, I can t blame him. That would be irrational, and not help my conscience, but for all purpose s sake, I can blame him, for my arm. Can t I? No, I can t. That was me, me again. One might think I was egocentric, I m not, I would love to share the blame. But I can t, it s the fault of a dying man. To much burden. To much grief. I wonder if they would send the body back to my mother. I haven t spoken to her in years. I wonder if she missed me, I wonder if she would cry, or if she knew the grief I caused. I wonder if Mulder would throw a party. I wonder if.... STOP IT! my head screams again. I must finish. Finish? That s laughable. Mulder will have a field day with the stuff I am sending him. I m not finishing anything, I m opening a new can of worms. I smile at that. The thought of Mulder finding the truth. Truth, he wouldn t know what to do with it once he found it. To bad, we could have been partners, friends maybe. I sit watch as the computer screen states how much left I have left to send, almost done. Then I can die. Then and only then. I am drawn out of my misery by a knock on the door, they have come. I knew they would, after that note. The note in which I declared that I wouldn t do anymore. It didn t matter what they would do to me now. I have made my mind clear, I am ready. I am Alex Krycek. I ve crossed the dark path into the light.