Work Text:
Obsession
by Ratwoman
ratwoman02@yahoo.de
It had been so easy to sneak into the house, since cancerman had given him the key. So easy to find a place to hide, a place to wait. And Krycek was good at waiting, never losing his patience.
He was now sitting in the douche of the Mulder residence, waiting. Thinking. Shooting an old man from the ambush should be an easy job, unless someonehad scruple. No, Krycek had no scruple. Although it was Mulder's father he intended to kill. Because it was Mulder's father he intended to kill.
"Damn you, Mulder." Krycek hissed. He had never wanted to allow anyone to come so near to him, so important. Now Mulder had invaded his mind, his thoughts, even his dreams. There was hardly a moment he wasn't contemplating about Mulder, about his obsessive search for the truth, about his sick sense of humor, about his eloquence, his hazel eyes, his slender figure, his hands, his sensual lower lip. He couldn't sleep at night, because Mulder was always there, in his head. He just couldn't get him out of his mind. And when he finally fell asleep, he always dreamt of Mulder. Mulder pressing him against the wall, kissing him wildly. Mulder gently caressing his cheek. Mulder entwined with him. Erotic dreams, wet dreams.
He had first realized that he was jealous of Scully being so important to Mulder, after he had helped to abduct her. And he had realized something else: he had felt as much pain as Mulder when she was gone. Not because he missed that red-haired bitch; just because it hurt to see Mulder suffer. He felt as helpless and weak as Mulder, and he hated that feeling. And he hated Mulder for making him so weak.
Krycek had been glad when he had to leave the Bureau, because he thought if he got out of Mulder's reach, his feelings would also go, fade away. His feelings hadn't gone, they accompanied him. No matter how far away he was, he still couldn't stop thinking about Mulder day-in, day-out, night for night. It made him feel sick, weak. God, how he hated to be weak.
He had found no cure, no remedy against Mulder, until the consortium had ordered him to murder Mulder's father. Killing someone so near to Mulder was almost the same as killing Mulder himself. He would hurt him deeper than ever. Surely he would hurt himself, too, but perhaps the pain would help to kill his feelings for Mulder, his weakness. To exorcise Mulder.
Krycek heard voices talking, but he couldn't understand the words. He repressed a groan when he recognized one of the voices. Fox Mulder. As he closed his eyes he could almost see him, the lush brown hair, the warm hazel eyes. STOP! Stop it, forget him. You'll become weak, if you think about him, perhaps you'll even cry!
Krycek stood up, preparing himself for the murder, trying to ignore the sound of Mulder's voice, the butterflies in his stomach, the beating of his heart.
Kill him!
Eventually the door opened and a man, Mulder's father, came in. The old man stepped in front of the mirror and Krycek raised his gun, pointing at the back of his victim's head.
Do it! Exorcise Mulder! Free yourself!
Krycek pulled the trigger.
It made a loud bang as the bullet flashed out, hit the head of William Mulder. The man fell, gasping. Krycek heard a sound and escaped out of the window.
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Krycek had been driving aimless through the city for hours, until he found himself in front of his apartment house.
He had done it. Mulder's father was dead. Mulder certainly felt down, hurt, broken. And he? Krycek didn't know what he felt, if he felt anything. There was an emptiness in his heart, perhaps it had always been there, but he had never been so aware of it before.
Had his feelings died with Mulder's father? Just as he had hoped they would.
Krycek entered his flat, threw his jacket to the floor and walked to his CD-collection. Music, he needed some music now. Not something of that soulless techno-music, something old-fashioned, something like a-ha.
"Scoundrel days". Yes, that was right now. He put the disc into the CD-player listening to the guitars, keyboards and the rich voice, which could raise so high and sink so low.
>Was that somebody screaming
it wasn't me for sure<
It was done. What now? Was he still thinking about Mulder? Still seeing his picture everytime he closed his eyes? His sad, warm eyes, his sensual lower lip, his hair, his hands with the long fingers, his slender body? How sexy he had been in his red speedos. Krycek had hardly been able to concentrate on his report, when Mulder stepped out of the pool.
>And see... as our lifes are in the making
we believe through the lies and the hating
that love goes free on scoundrel days<
Krycek stood up and looked out of the window.
>I've got blood in my hair<
He wondered how Mulder felt. Was he sad, hurt? Did he know, that it was Krycek who had shot his father? Did he hate him now, hate him even more than before? Was he feeling weak? As weak as he himself?
To his horrors, Krycek realized tears rolling down his face. What was happening to him? Why couldn't he control his emotions, why couldn't he stop loving that man? And why - how - could he have hurt Mulder, again? What had he done to Mulder?
"Damn you Mulder!" The thoughts about him had distracted him so much from the music, that he hadn't listened at all to the second song. Krycek turned around. He would now concentrate on the next song, concentrate on something not Mulder.
>>It wasn't rain that washed away
rinsed out the colours of your eyes
putting the gun down on the bedside table
I must have realized
It wasn't rain that made no difference
And I could have sworn it wasn't me
Yet I did it all so coldly<< Scully's abduction
>>almost slowly<< Mulder's father
>>plain for all to see
Oh c'mon, please now
talk to me
tell me; things I could find helpful
How can I stop now...
Is there nothing I can do
I have lost my way
I've been losing you
I can still hear our screams competing
you're hissing your s's like a snake
Now in the mirrow stands
half a man
I thought no one could break<<
Krycek watched his reflection in the window, his sorrowfilled face. "Damn you, Mulder"
>>It wasn't rain that made no difference
...nervously drumming on; run away
But I want the guilt to get me
thoughts to wreck me
- preying on my mind<<
Krycek's tears were flowing again, resistant against every attempt to hold them back. When Morten Harket repeated the refrain again, Krycek knew, he had to see Mulder, now, and if it would cost his mind. He turned off the CD-player, picked up his jacket and left his flat, running away.
____________________________________________________________________________
Like a fly was torn to a flame, Krycek was torn to Mulder's apartment, driving almost instinctively through the city. It was a miracle that he reached it uninjured, without any accident, as he ignored all traffic signs.
Creeping in the shadows, >>>a shape in the dark<<<, he loitered around the houses, gazing up to Mulder's flat, searching for a sign of him. There was no light in the windows, no chance to see the slender silhouette. >>>Strange longings never sleep<<<
He was sneaking 'round a corner when he clashed with Mulder. They were struggling for a while, and Krycek drew his gun, but even if he wanted to, he couldn't shoot Mulder. Yeah, he could hardly fight him back, beat him, for he feared that if he hurt Mulder, he would also hurt himself. He always suffered in his heart when he saw Mulder bleed. So it was not surprising that Mulder managed to wrest his gun out of his hands, even in his drugged
state.
Keeping Alex in check with his own gun, Mulder held him to the hood of a car. His voice filled with anger, hatred, madness, he hissed: "I'm going to kill you anyway, so you might as well tell me the truth." Growing louder with each word, he continued: "Did you kill my father? Did you kill him? Answer me!" But all Alex could think about was why there was such a pain in his heart, when it was his nose which was bleeding.
As he denied to react to his accusations, Mulder rudely picked him up, just to knock him down a moment later, then he kicked him violently. Krycek didn't try to fight him back, realizing that getting hurt by Mulder didn't feel as bad as when he hurt Mulder.
Mulder grabbed him and pulled him to his feet again, pressed him to the wall and kept him with his gun pointing at him at arm's length, madness glittering in his beautiful hazel eyes.
Krycek nearly fancied the thought of dying now, shot by Mulder. His life had become so strange, so complicated, so chaotic, all because of Mulder. It was only adequate if Mulder ended it now.
"Mulder!" a voice called. Krycek recognized it as Scully's. He felt a bit relieved, although he couldn't stand that bitch. But perhaps she could save his life now. Save him, so that he could furthermore be obsessed by Mulder, his eyes, his voice, his lower lip, his body.
"Don't shoot him!" Scully screamed. "Just back away!"
"He killed my father, Scully!" Krycek could see pure hatred in Mulder's eyes as he said that. Alex's stomach cramped, and in his chest, between the rips, he had a feeling as if someone was turning a dagger around in his heart. W e a k a n d h e l p l e s s.
"I have him, Mulder!" Scully called trying to convince him that it would be enough to arrest Krycek.
But that didn't work. Mulder was driven mad by the drugs and the grief of his father's death, nothing Scully could say would keep him from shooting. It didn't matter, Krycek didn't wish to live any longer that way.
He'd always wanted to be strong, but since he knew Mulder, he was so weak. He was no longer independent, free, no! His personal luck depended on Mulder, on Mulder's condition and on Mulder's opinion of him.
He shouldn't have killed Mulder's father. It hadn't helped him to exorcise Mulder, there was no cure against him. It had only made things worse, because from now on Mulder would hate him more than anyone else, even more than Cancerman. Alex couldn't stand the pain when he saw the hatred in Mulder's face.
Krycek waited for the bullet that would end all his sorrows, when he heard a bang. But he realized that it wasn't Mulder who had shot. It was Scully. And she had shot Mulder.
Krycek stared in shock at Mulder's body, as he unconsciously - lifelessly? - fell to the ground. Then he did what he could best - run away!
_____________________________________________________________________________
Krycek went astray through the gulch of houses, unable to catch one clear thought. Mulder, with hatefilled eyes, trying to kill him, Scully, like a red-haired demon, appearing out of the dark, shooting Mulder. Was he dead, gone, out of his life? Would he never see him again? Never again hear his voice? Was that his salvation? Would the memory fade away with the years, turn paler? Or would he suffer for the rest of his life, remembering the love he'd lost?
Krycek broke down in a dark side-street, huddled up, and let his tears flow.
____________________________________________________________________________
Krycek stood up about half an hour later, feeling empty. But he was sure now that Scully hadn't killed Mulder. He was her partner, she wouldn't kill him to save the life of a criminal. Certainly she had only injured him, aimed at his shoulder, perhaps.
If just the possibility of Mulder's death had brought Krycek down so much, what would happen to him if Mulder one day was really dead?
He had to get used to his feelings for Mulder, if he couldn't get rid of them. Maybe he could learn to control them, keep them somewhere deep inside of him.
"Damn you, Mulder." Krycek murmured once again. "What have you done to me?"
Alex roamed the streets, searching for his car to get home into his empty, lonesome apartment.
>>>You can start, but you cannot stop
You give in, but you can't give up
You can tell all your desperate jokes
to a world that puts love on hold.<<<
The end