From: "Little Green Kid" Date: Tue, 08 Sep 1998 18:13:00 PDT Subject: New story: Shame Title: Shame By: Chimera Rated: PG Category: SA Keywords: Character death. Spoilers: The End Summary: Alex Krycek doesn't realize soon enough that saving someone else is the only way left to save himself. Disclaimer: I don't own The X-Files or anything to do with it. They belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox. Archive: Sure. Just tell me. If you would say this story was wonderful, horrible, or anything in between, email me at littlegreenkid@hotmail.com and tell me. If you don't have an opinion, email me anyway just to let me know someone read it. I hope I got all the formatting and stuff right. I've never done this before. <> <> <> <> <> <> <> Shame By Chimera <> <> <> <> <> <> <> I never wanted to do this. I could take the gun, the black clothes, the long days and the endless nights. I could stand the lying, the backstabbing, the running away. I could learn the fighting and the mercilessness and even the murder. But this was something I never wanted to do. As I drive down the deserted highway I know in my heart that this is worse than murder. There's a twelve-year-old boy sitting quietly in the back seat. Does he know what lies ahead? All they'll kill is his soul. The minute he enters their possession, he is an object. Something to be spoken of in low voices and shadowed rooms. Something to be locked up, examined and tested, picked apart and put back together again. Just another piece dragged into the game. This boy rides in a car that will take him to his doom. And I, Alex Krycek, am driving. Never before have I felt so wrong. I feel like I just can't do this. Somehow I know that there is something I have to do. I wonder if he really can read minds. I think, as clearly as I can. My eyes flicker over to the man in the passenger seat. He stares straight forward, his face stony and his manicured hands folded. I glance into the rear-view mirror for a second, and Gibson's eyes meet mine. He knows. There's no doubt. And now there's no turning back. I have to get him out of here. If it means being a traitor, I've done it before. I don't know exactly why, but it's never been this important. I don't have time to make complicated plans. With every passing moment, this boy draws closer to his fate. The wrong fate. I know somehow this is not the way it's meant to happen. I am the only one who has the power to save him now. It's crazy. It's absolutely insane. But it's the only chance there will ever be. I pause, then take a quick look in the mirror. Watching me, he nods slowly. He trusts me. It's been so long since anyone trusted me. I know I never deserved anyone's trust and I know I don't deserve this boy's life. But it's in my hands. And this is my chance. I pull over to the side of the dusty road and consult the map. It's awkwardly folded. Figures. The man next to me looks like the type who can fold maps perfectly, but makes someone else who can't do it for him. "Make the next turn," he instructs me. That's when I unlock the doors. I hear the car door swing open. Gibson scrambles out, frightened eyes gleaming beneath his glasses, and runs. I turn to the well-manicured man. "I'll get him," I assure him, opening my own door and jumping out. I don't know much about kids. One thing I never remembered from my own childhood was how fast they are. I don't have to worry about catching up to Gibson before we reach the cornfield. He bolts across the road and disappears into the corn. I rush towards the field, hoping I look like I'm trying to catch up to him. Plunging into the tall cornstalks, I find Gibson waiting for me. A wave of relief washes over his face. I grab his trembling hand and pull him into another row of corn, ducking beneath the top of the stalks. Together we run, away from the road, away from the car, and just away. For once I feel like I have a purpose. I have to save Gibson. I have to. <> <> <> We ran until we couldn't run anymore. Then we walked, breath choked and hearts pounding, until we couldn't walk any farther. Now, still surrounded by the endless green corn, we stop, collapsing on the hard ground. I cover my face with my hands, rubbing out the sweat that runs into my eyes. I can barely comprehend what I've just done. All I know is that because of it, I am gravely in trouble. The thought just adds to the throbbing pain in my head. I glance up at Gibson. He watches me with pale eyes, his head in his hands, his light hair windblown. "We'll make it back," I manage to tell him. "I'll get you to the nearest police." "Will they make me take tests, and answer questions?" he asks quietly. "I don't want to do that. I want to go home." There's no point in lying to him. He deserves the truth, and even if I don't tell him, he'll know. "They'll probably want to ask some questions, yeah. But they'll get you home as soon as they can. I know they will." He studies me for a moment. "Where do you go?" I sigh and shake my head. "Wherever I can go to get away." Gibson seems to think about that for a while. "I don't read minds, you know," he finally says. "I hear them. Everyone's thoughts are like voices on a radio. I hear them all day, whenever I'm around anyone else. And it's shown me people never say what they mean. They think one thing, and say something else. It hurts me sometimes. I get so tired of all the voices in my head, and I just want to get away." He pauses. "But I never can." I am silent. I guess I had never thought about it that way before. I always thought it was a gift to have his abilities. But now I see it in a different light. He must know things, things he never wanted to know. He must wish he didn't have those powers. He must live in a very, very lonely world. He must wish he could just be twelve years old. "Uh-huh," he tells me. "I do. And you understand." "No one else understands. Some people want to, but they can't. You're the only one." It seems like I should be the last person in the world to understand this boy. We could be the two most different people in the world. But sometimes things just turn out that way. And I know we're here, together, for a reason. This is something I have to do. "You said it hurts you sometimes. What people think." He nods solemnly. "Painful things. Horrible things. Nothing is really unthinkable. Each person's mind is their escape. Their own dark secret world. There are things you just can't do or say in real life. But in your mind, there are no rules. In your mind you can hate. You can scream and swear, torture and kill. Or you can just think the little things that hurt more than anything else. In your mind things can happen that no one else was ever meant to know. Those are the things I know." He sighs. "Everyone else's hatred and pain, it's all mine, too. Like you and that smoking man. You hate him. You wanted to kill him right there. The things you thought about doing to him, they were terrible." "But I didn't do those things." He looks at me. "I know." And then I realize that's just what he's saying. I realize, and it crashes over me like a giant wave. I understand, and it twists into my heart like a knife. I am the only one. I am his only hope. He deserves more. I still don't know why it all comes down to me, but that doesn't matter. It's the truth. Darkness falls over the endless fields of corn. I stare up to the stars that shine in the night sky and I want to be somewhere far away from here. <> <> <> It's after midnight. We shouldn't be here, it's not safe, but this is where we are. We were both so tired I couldn't bear to make Gibson go on. I cover my anxiety with the thought that they'll never expect us to stay in the cornfields. They'll look for us on the other side. Us? They don't care about me. They want Gibson. Exhausted as I am, there can be no rest for me. Too many thoughts and fears fill my mind. I realize with guilt that my thoughts are keeping Gibson awake, too. Concerns pour in faster than I can erase them. I try to clear my mind. Think of nothing. Nothing. Nothing at all. And it happens. I feel it before anything else. A knowing, a dread rising from the deep. Then I hear it. Footsteps. The rustling of cornstalks. Quiet voices. Cold fear grips my heart. Another second and it will be too late. Gibson stares at me, his eyes wide and scared. He doesn't hear it, but he knows I do. And he trusts me. I seize his hand and pull him to his feet. We run as if the blazing flames of Hell licked at our heels. For me, I guess it's true. If they catch up to us, I'm as good as dead. And I can't deny the eternity I deserve. But they won't catch up. They can't. We can't let them. I can't let them. We run. I drag Gibson through the endless rows of corn. I see flashes of light, hear someone shout. For a moment I close my eyes against the wind. Our feet pound. I open my eyes. Finally, like a light at the end of a tunnel, I see cornfields end up ahead, at the side of a road. I run harder. I feel Gibson struggle to keep up, his hand tugging mine, silently begging this to be nothing but a bad dream. The road lies steps away. I gasp for air and breathe in a cold surge of energy. The ground becomes pavement beneath my feet. Suddenly I see everything in slow motion. For a fraction of a second, I falter. I can hear it before it echoes down the endless road. It was only a fraction of a second. Only a fraction of an inch. Sometimes that's all it takes. There was no way he could have known. There were no minds to read. No one knew this would happen. I didn't know. I wasn't prepared to die, but I wasn't prepared for this either. He cries out, short and terrible. I hear it. He stumbles. His hand lets go of mine, but I fall with him onto the unforgiving ground beneath. I feel it. His head, lying twisted on the pavement. A deep red hole in its side. Blood. Flowing out onto the street. I see it. I don't have to listen for breath. I don't have to feel for a pulse. He's dead. And they're gone. I lie in the middle of the empty road, clutching the little boy's limp hand, watching the blood pour from his head and feeling such unfathomable pain that the blood could be my own. It should be my own. I am the one that should lie dead. I know that this is not the way it was meant to be. I had a chance. A chance to save this child's life. Now I know, I realize, that it was the last chance I was ever going to have. That was why it was so important. I wasn't just saving him. I was saving myself. But I killed him. I killed him. And I shattered my own last hope. I let his hand drop to the ground. If I had saved him, if he were safe right now, I would have saved a life. Maybe that could make up for one of the countless lives I have taken. That could have been the beginning of a different life for me. But now it's too late. Shame overwhelms me. Tears fill my eyes. An infinite sadness fills my soul, reaching deep into my heart, far beyond pain and regret. Sadness, sadness that settles over me like a leaden blanket, sadness that wrings my grieving heart, the life left in me dripping out, drop by torturous drop. Then softly, gently, I feel my heart shatter. All I have left are tears, and they all spill out at once. I didn't think I remembered how to cry, but I cry like I have never cried before. I cry because I have lost something, something that can never be replaced. My chance has come and gone. Rain begins to fall, lightly at first, then beating down on my shaking body. As it drenches me, my tears finally subside. In silence I watch the rain soak through Gibson's small, ghostly body. I slowly turn over onto my back. The cool wet air melts into my face and the tears wash away like a memory. I feel it all leave me. The grief, the devastation, the shame. It slips away, lost in the pieces of my heart. Where I used to feel my soul beating within me, all I can feel is emptiness. A deep, aching void. I gaze up at the heavens, and where just hours ago I saw a sky of brilliant stars, they've disappeared beneath the clouds. And I know that this is complete and utter defeat. This is the end. I am dead yet excruciatingly alive. I don't deserve life, I don't even want it, yet still life goes on. It's a mystery I will never solve. A truth I will never understand. And I realize there was so much I could have had. So much I could have done. I know I had a chance. I know I could have broken free. There's no one to blame but myself. I close my eyes, not ever wanting to open them again. It's all over. It's all gone. Gone. And then, at that very moment, I know. I realize. I understand. And it's too late. <> <> <> <> <> <> <> ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com