From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Tue, 9 Nov 1999 00:44:25 -0600 Subject: Living in -sin by Ary GH Source: direct Reply To: fox_dvd@hotmail.com TITLE: "Living in Sin" AUTHOR: Ary GH E-MAIL: foxdvd@netscape.net CATEGORY: VA SPOILERS: They've become cliches by now. SUMMARY: Landlords are such curious creatures.... DATE: October 1999 DISCLAIMER: Krycek, Mulder, Scully, Marita et al belong to Mr. Carter Nosy Mr. Williams belongs to me and could be blamed on two bottles of white wine. FEEDBACK: PLEASE! My mailbox has been fading away... ARCHIVE: Anywhere you like, as long as you keep the title, my name and e-mail together and in one piece. AUTHOR'S NOTES: Another first in my warfare: a Krycek-centred story. Who would have known? DEDICATION: To Alma, for making me laugh when I feel like crying... To my betas and counsellors... */*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/* I'm telling you. He was a nice guy. Nice in a 'boy-next-door' charming kinda way. I liked him. Ever since he first came to live here some 5 years ago. I never knew what he did for a living, or his first name. And as it turns out, neither did I know his real last name. He had always been Mr. Alexander to me. That's the name that showed on the receipt I gave him every month. He was a good pay. Even when he was away I'd get the rent check on the first day of every month. I did notice that the signature of the checks was not always the same one, but I was not one complain for getting paid on time. Nossir. Not me. Turns out his name was Krycek. Alexander was his first name. Old Mr. Simmons at 4D almost had a seizure when he found out. Wanted to sue me for housing a 'commie'. For all he knew, he said, he could have been a Russian spy. Hell, for all I knew he could have been one, too. Just like the guy in that old tv serial.... remember him? But that's another story. I am telling you, he was a nice guy. I mean, he'd always help me Get the garage door open in the mornings and would help me carry the groceries inside if we arrived home at the same time. Even after his... uh... err... accident... he kept on helping me as much as he could. You don't know what accident? Hell, neither do I. But I know that the boy left here on Wednesday with his two arms attached and returned 3 months later with a plastic thing.... whatchamacallit? pre... pra... prosthesis, damn it, instead of a left arm. I've always wondered what had happened to him. Could have been a car accident. Or he could have had a close encounter with the garbage disposal like my uncle Herbert when he tried to rescue Grandma Williams's sterling silverware from going to hell... but that's another story. Anyway, I don't think Mr.Alexan... Mr. Krycek would be as dumb as my uncle Herbert in the first place. He looked like a smart kid. Visitors, you ask? Well... he had his share of visitors. He wasn't the party-thrower type like the Davises on 5A (and you should see the number of bottles on the garbage deposit next Monday!) but he wasn't a recluse like Miss Robbins on 2B. She ought to be in a convent, that woman. But that's another story. As I was saying, Mr. Krycek had his share of visitors. Some came almost weekly, like that distinguished British gentleman. He was old enough to be his father, but there was no family resemblance, so I assumed it was his boss. He stopped coming after last summer, though... I missed seeing him. The limo outside gave the building back some of the splendour of the old days when this was a wealthy neighbourhood. Ok. The building has seen better days. And the block is certainly not what it used to be. But I've tried to keep the building clean. No drug dealers, no working ladies, no Mafia thugs. Mostly people from good families that hadn't been so lucky in their investments. A couple of newlyweds saving money to move up. And once in a while kids like him, working their way up in DC, spending more money on a pair of 'power suits' to meet the standards than what they did on their rent... What? Oh yes... Mr. Krycek's visitors. About once a month a human chimney dropped by to see him. I always had the feeling that Krycek was not all too happy to see him. To tell the truth neither was I. He left a trail of cigarette butts everywhere, despite my carefully lettered 'Do Not Smoke' signs... and the smell! Three days later you'd still know the damn man had been here. A few years ago a Hispanic guy came quite often. So often, in fact, that I thought he was boarding for free. I didn't like him, either. He reminded me of those guys in street gangs. I'm sure I saw him packing a gun once. I was thinking about mentioning it to Alex, but then the guy disappeared. Now that I think about it... I think I saw him come in one day, but I don't remember seeing him leave. And I never saw him again. I could be wrong, you know. Just like the time when I thought the Soaries on 1C were molesting the Lopez kid... but that's another story. Women, you say? I know nothing about women... Oh please, put that bill away. Who do you think I am? When I say I know nothing about women it's because I don't. I mean, he never introduced any of them to me. Yes, them. For a handicapped guy he certainly was a ladies man. Very popular with the ladies. Must have had a very talented right hand, if you know what I mean. Of course, if you ask old Miss Kaplan on the 6th floor, she'll tell you that Krycek was living in sin. His soul was already condemned by his lustful ways, she'll say. She says the same thing about the Gamberis on 5D and those kids are married! Granted, you can hear them going at it at all hours of the day or night, but you gotta understand, they're newlyweds. But that's another story. Women came and went from his apartment in no particular order. But he always kept his... ah... amorous activities to his apartment and his antics weren't particularly noisy. Except for the blond girl. Yeah. Blond. Model-perfect blond. Tall, blue-eyed, all legs and arms. You know the type. And she was classy. I mean, she dressed as if she had stepped out of one of those clothes catalogues. She smelled expensive. I certainly didn't think Alex was capable of paying the likes of her. Between you and me, I think she was the one doing the paying, if you know what I mean... But she stopped coming as suddenly as the Hispanic guy. Then there were no more girls for a while, but it didn't last long. Soon enough Mr. Krycek began entertaining female guests. I don't think he had a 'fixed' lover until this last one. I liked her. Nice, well-mannered (the only one who ever bothered to say 'good morning' to me when she left), she dressed with taste, but much more subdued than the blonde. An over-all nice girl if you know what I mean. I was kinda hoping Alexander would settle down with her... That's why it was such a shock when it happened. I know, I was here. I was just pouring myself a coffee when I heard the first shot ring out. Somehow I was certain that it was coming from his apartment. Perhaps that's why I counted them. 9 shots in all. She put 9 bullets through his body in cold blood. I didn't have to look into the bedroom to know that he was dead. At first glance it looked like a crime of passion. She could have caught him in bed with another gal (I'm sad to say Alex wasn't very faithful to her those last days). But then the police came and it turned out she was a Fed. And the rumours started spreading about him. Seems like she was just doing her job. But I tell you... I was there first, remember? She wasn't a cop when she fired those shots. She was being every ounce a woman when she killed him. Tears were streaming down her face when I found her and she kept murmuring things about 'double-crossing' and 'treason' and 'payback'. And a wolf. Or maybe it was a fox? I can't remember exactly. It didn't make much sense, anyway. If you asked me, I'd still say it was a matter of the heart. She had that spark about her. Like she was capable of killing a guy in the name of love. Or maybe I'm just assuming things and falling for the stereotype. You know what they say about the Irish temper... I did mention she was a redhead, didn't I? THE END */*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/* Thanks for reading! "I never claimed to be a hero, and I never said I was a saint" B. Joel