Work Text:
Safety X
By Jadzia
I can't believe it. One night. I sleep one night through, waking up to know he's gone. I can just stay in bed with my eyes closed, because it's no use getting up to go looking for him.
I know he's not here.
I know it because I can breathe.
Freely. Easily.
The molecules have stopped bouncing. They do that when they are close to him, you know. Not a happy bouncing though, it's more of the nervous kind. They concentrate around him, somehow. Constantly alert.
Bouncing.
The tension is gone.
Gone.
Right before I woke up, I felt a moment of almost blessed relief - a deep breath, warmth, no alarm. Even when I realized what must have happened, it was still there - relief.
No more fighting.
No more tension.
Until the truth hit and I *really* realized what was going on.
It's lying knotted into a giant ice-block deep down in my stomach.
Ice.
With edges like razors.
Numbing.
Not too numb though, still enough pain to make me finally open my eyes and stare at the fire-place.
Ashes.
Ashes are all that's left.
All that's ever left.
Everything is dazed somehow as I finally accept I'm awake.
It was nice to have the hope that everything was a dream after all, I have a lot of nightmares, haven't I?
And in spite of all this I search for him, because maybe he's here after all, maybe I'm wrong, though I'm seldom wrong in these things - even if I don't want to be right.
The cabin isn't that big, and I don't suppose he has hid in a closet. I look inside them, nonetheless.
It's cold out there.
He hates the cold.
Even more than he hates me.
Normally.
He's wearing black, he always wears black, so he should be easy to spot.
Maybe it's unfair to go after him.
I promised to not hold him back. But he isn't ready. Isn't ready to be out there alone, in the freezing cold. He's still too thin, too tired... but maybe he's always this thin and tired - I don't know him that well, do I?
So maybe - maybe I should just let him go wherever he wants to go.
I lied to myself. I told him I would let him go, and I lied. I should have known I wouldn't be able to. I have to go out there and find him. Talk to him. Just talk. And if he convinces me that he's really ready -
Yeah, right.
Forget it.
I'll find him and bring him back.
Dammit, it's so cold in here already, I don't want to know what it's like outside.
The razors remind me that he could be frozen by now.
Out of the bed, into my clothes, and as I walk by the mirror next to the door I realize I'm all in black, too.
Makes me smile, almost.
Black is good.
Black is Alex.
Opening the door and meeting the cold feels like running against a stone wall, but my eyes are already searching for a little black spot far, far away. I just walk straight ahead, his footsteps are gone under the freshly fallen snow, anyway - and I think.
We didn't talk.
All this time, we didn't talk.
Not really talk, that is.
We exchanged a few words, right... but being the coward I am, we never got to the core of things. We were never again as close as we were that first night at the motel, we never touched, we never talked.
I saw him standing at the window or sitting in front of the fire so many times - I can see him now in my mind, staring through the flames, arms around his knees, seeing something that's invisible to me.
Looking fragile and cold and lonely.
I longed to just walk over and put my arms around him, to see him strong and warm again, but I thought there would be more than enough time for that later.
Later.
Deep down inside I knew, the longer I waited, the more difficult everything would become.
Deep down inside I felt him slipping away from me.
One of my most endearing qualities; I always see things crystal clear when it's too late and I've already fucked up everything.
It's cold.
Cold, cold, cold.
Colder than the thing in my stomach, that's good.
No black spot.
Maybe I'm scaring myself, because it's not disgusting anymore. I see him when his eyes become cold, I remember what he did, what he will undoubtedly do again - and it's different.
It started gradually, I think... I didn't notice it at first. But at a certain moment - he was looking out of the window, staring at the snow, for hours. I sat on the couch, debating with myself if I should go over to him or not, and fear won once again.
He looked wounded.
Deeply wounded, and no healer in sight.
No chance to heal himself, because he didn't believe he was worth it.
He thinks of himself exactly what I thought of him some time ago.
Worthless.
Cold.
Not to be saved.
But he is.
And I didn't do it.
Didn't do it, because I knew that this very core of him was something I would always - was something I would never be able to despise.
I was so afraid, suddenly.
I didn't tell him.
I didn't say a thing.
Great psychologist I am, I waited for him to become all hard and cold again. I didn't have to wait long, he can still do it in seconds.
It hurts.
I want him back.
I need to talk to him, at least.
I still can't see him.
Damn it, Alex, if you die on me - I hate wind. Can't see through the tears.
I don't even know for how long he's been out here.
He must be freezing.
Frozen.
I never thought it could be like this.
I never thought I could see more in him than the sum of the things he has done.
That there would be so much more of him that's worth to be discovered.
Worth to be held close and secure.
I don't know how to explain this to anyone.
Scully. She'll kill me. And she should be more important to me than he, we've been through so much together. And I don't even know what to tell her. Hell, I don't know what to tell myself - I don't know how I feel about him. She'll ask, and I won't know. Confusing, that's Alex. That's me. Maybe I shouldn't tell her. Status quo. But I can't. I can't lie to myself any longer.
I can't.
It's easier to search for a general truth than accepting one's own.
And seeing it doesn't mean accepting.
I don't know if I'll ever be able to. I don't know how I can make him stay, I have no idea what to say when I find him.
When.
I don't want to think about "if" right now.
Not now.
I want to know so many things about him.
Some time ago, he was just an evil entity.
Nothing human.
Just evil.
No person behind.
No one is like that.
Now, I know the corner-stones of the grand Krycek-scheme, all right, but the little things - what poetry does he like? Does he like springtime as much as I do? What kind of music does he hear? What was his family like? When's his birthday, for Godssake?
I don't know anything about Alex Krycek.
I want to.
I'm scared.
I try to wrap my mind around why he did the things he has done.
I'm scared I will never understand, no matter how hard I try.
I'm scared I'll understand all too well.
When I see him unguarded - what they have done to him must have been so terrible, to make a man like him turn into a cold, heartless bastard.
To make him kill.
Sometimes I'm so afraid that this is what he really *is* - and everything else is just the usual Fuck-Mulder-Up-Theater.
But when I see him deep in thought, not knowing I'm looking - there's still so much inside these shells.
I'm just afraid I'll get crushed between them.
I thought we could change each other. I still hope we can. That he'll let me and I'll let him.
Maybe I just have to jump.
Into the unknown, into the fear, into the pain.
Jump into the abyss.
The problem is, I'm not sure.
Not sure at all.
Not sure about anything.
So how can I jump into the unknown, if I'm not even sure I want it? But how can I be sure I want or don't want something I don't know?
This is making me dizzy.
So, I have to do it or never find out.
I wish I could just leave it at that.
I searched for him, I almost froze myself to death, he didn't want to stay with me - bingo. I could fly to some nice tropic island for the rest of my vacation and forget about him.
The only problem is the balance.
When you're taking a risk where your feelings are involved, it works like a pendulum. It can swing to both sides, to the bright or the dark, into pain or happiness.
You never know the outcome, and if you're in a situation that's so risky that it will hurt you terribly when it doesn't work out... the greater the possible hurt, the greater the joy when everything goes well.
It's always easy to say "Go for it," when I'm still at a distance.
But when the decision is close - I don't want to be hurt, please, not again.
But I'm not happy now.
And shouldn't I take the chance when it presents itself to me?
There's always a risk if you want to win the prize.
And I've been hunting for things I don't know my whole life. Because I want to know them.
It's white here.
No trees anymore, just snow everywhere.
I'll have to be careful, or I'll end up snow-blind.
And I want to see, I'm constantly nervous I could overlook him somehow.
Although that's hardly possible, the snow is too white and he is too black.
He has to be, because otherwise I'd mistake him for one of these color-spots that are already swirling in front of me.
I'm not sure, but this point there is black, isn't it?
Isn't it?
It doesn't move.
It's black, I think.
Black.
Black is good.
THE END
03.-11.12.1999
revised 23.12.1999-07.01.2000
By Jadzia