by Ratadder
I creep a little further down the hall, hugging the wall. Sweat
rolls into my eyes and I blink. I keep thinking he's going to go
down, toward the basement office. But he doesn't. Hasn't yet
anyway. My breathing is just a little too fast. I try to slow it,
but my heart is accelerating. My office? Is he heading to my
office? Where... where is he going. Where is he...
My fingers tighten on the gun in hand as I reach the end of the
wall, the corner. I suck in a breath, flatten myself against the
wall and lift my eyes to the ceiling. Old habit, even though I
gave up on anything to pray to back when I was creeping through a
very different environment, gun still in hand.
Around the corner. I have to go around the corner. Go. Just look
once, quick, and then go.
I edge one eye around the corner and jerk back reflexively. My
mind processes that I saw nothing. Nothing out of place, except
the halls seem longer than they usually do. And are there more of
them? I shake off the confusion. I do know where I am. I do. The
heavy shadows and the dull gleam of utility lights look just like
the Hoover at night. I should know. I'm here often enough after
hours.
Calmed, I look again, slower this time. Nothing, no sign. I
slither around the corner and flatten myself against the new wall
and begin all over again. Slow steady steps, slow steady breaths.
Slow steady death. I swallow hard.
Quick unsteady death?
Not yet.
"Where arrre you?" I'm almost crooning now. Whispering the words
into the darkness all around. This is tugging so many memories.
Hide and seek as a child. Hide and seek in the jungle. I can't
remember which was worse.
I see a flash of movement up ahead, at the juncture of the next
endless hallway. A streak of darkness just a little bit darker
than the shadows, and then I'm moving. Running. My legs stretch,
flex, and my feet pound the smooth floor beneath me. I round the
next corner running -- no skulking at this one, no slow looks, no
double checks -- and almost trip over the body. I stop short and
drop to my knees, jerking my gaze from the bleeding form to search
the area more by habit than anything else.
Nothing. Again.
I return my attention to the body. He's a guard. Night-time
security guard. I know him. Ron. He stares up at me and tries to
speak, then dies.
"Where the fuck are you."
I'm not crooning anymore.
I get to my feet and step over the body. The flash was moving in
that direction, so I follow singlemindedly. I crouch against the
wall and start again. It's too dark. I'm too slow. More people are
going to die. I can feel it. I know it as assuredly as I know I'm
going to have to argue my staffing requests with the budget
committee. I hear another gun shot even as the thought occurs to
me. I'm running again, running toward it.
And so it goes. Another hallway, another body. Gurgling a last
breath as a I reach her. Trying to speak but unable. Agent
Sidowski. Another shot. Another hallway, another body. Another
shot, another hallway, another...
Every agent under my command, and a few who aren't. Soon they're
already dead by the time I reach them. I'm falling further behind,
he's pulling further ahead. The gun shots are sounding further
away. Checking the bodies is slowing me down. I'm sweating hard
now, and my heart is pounding faster, faster. Where is he
heading...
More hallways. There are definitely more hallways than usual. Did
Blevins put in for an expansion? Around another corner, another
hallway, another--
Oh Jesus. Scully. Bleeding all over... already dead. My vision
blurs, then returns as I sense more movement. I see him, for just
a second... running. Running away. No time. He's gone.
"WHERE ARE YOU..." I'm screaming now, and following again. I slip
in the blood on the floor and my heart skips but I don't fall. I
have to be careful. Smooth halls. Bloody shoes. Bad combination.
Gunshot... oh fuck. Speed up... another one...
I blast through the door in front of me and enter... another
hallway. But I've got him. There. Crouching over the body this
time. I take aim, I fire, and he's moving already. I know he can't
be dematerializing but that's what it looks like. I falter,
thinking of one and twenty weird stories Mulder has tried to hand
in as reports. Is he... no. He turns for a split second and looks
straight at me. Waves at me. Then he's gone again.
No alien. No shapeshifter. No ghost. Just Krycek.
My legs are carrying me forward without my consent. I stop at the
body and glance down. Mulder. Of course. He looks... surprised. I
understand. I'm surprised too. Shocked, really. I never thought
he'd really kill Mulder. I always assumed... the two of them...
I suck in a breath and step over the body again. I avoid the
pooling blood this time. Move move move. It's a chant, in my
head. I can't hear anything up ahead but I know he's there.
Somewhere. Where where?
My footsteps echo too loudly but I'm not even trying to slink
along the wall anymore. I don't know why. Except... this hall
looks familiar. I was right. My office. This is my hall. He's
heading for my office. Now I start to run again, for the door,
knowing where he is now, desperate to prevent the final death I
know I can't. I hear the shot before I reach the door and I want
to scream but I don't. Through the door and Kim is slumped over
her desk, bleeding all over the day's half-opened mail. I still
don't scream but I feel like I'm choking and turn away from her
immediately, toward my door. Closer... everything is slowing down.
I reach for the handle, raise my gun. Fling open the door in slow
motion and there... at my desk. Behind my desk, his back to me. I
can see the black leather rise and fall with his steady breaths, I
can see the black denim, torn and worn. I can see the spike of
hair sticking straight up.
He turns. One neat pivot. And he faces me a different person.
There is no blur, I don't see the shift occur, it just is. The
suit is grey and baggy, the tie is red striped. The face is
smoother than I expect, and so open. Such big eyes you have. I
didn't see it happen but the hair... it just grew. It's just like
it was... exactly. The same smooth dip. The same neat, gleaming
arc. The same everything. Perfect.
"You should close the door. Sir."
I close the door.
He walks to me and smiles at me. "What can I do for you today...
sir?" Our old joke.
But he already knows. He's already dropping to his knees. It's so
perfect. Such an exact copy of the reality of... before. Of the
time when I couldn't believe I was doing this, in my office... but
I did it anyway. Of all the times we both said we shouldn't... but
we did anyway. Of the time when we laughed breathlessly about our
own daring, and had trouble meeting each others' eyes in meetings.
A junior agent. My junior agent. My junior male agent. Heady
guilt and trembling excitement, and hands clenched on chair arms
under the table so no one would see my fingers shaking...
And it's all the same, right down to the shyness, the slight color
rising in his cheeks, as he reaches for my belt. Looking up
through his lashes. "Please?" The voice of memory.
This is always the moment I realize it's a dream. Always the
moment I realize I can stop it, I can turn it, I can control what
happens. I stare at the gun in my hand and watch it disappear and
know I could conjure it back up and choose to end this
differently. This time.
I never do.
And that's what makes waking up even worse.
here arrre you?" My soft hiss bounces back at me from the empty
corridor.
