Happy Endings

by Cherusha

I am not a nice man.

I'm not a hero. I wasn't meant to save the day and I don't get to win the girl in the end or ride off into the sunset. So, you see, this is all still kind of confusing for me. I mean, good things don't happen to guys like me -- that's not how the story's supposed to go. I don't know, maybe I just got the wrong story. Maybe my ending isn't what I had predicted it to be.

I should start by saying that I had a specific role to play, and I was pretty damn good at it. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not by any means the main character in this story, regardless of how important I became in the story.

I played one of those enemy-turned-reluctant-ally types. I was the reprehensible two-faced rat-bastard who unwittingly ended up fighting on the hero's side. Now you might think this all sounds kind of glamorous: the shady chameleon ultimately coming out of the woodwork to help our valiant hero battle the enemy and save the world, thus earning his own redemption... But truth is, it's nothing like what you see in the movies.

For one, I was never part of the main action. During the war, my job was to lurk in the shadows, to manipulate one side against the other while at the same time, feed the hero valuable information that would lead him to victory. So, you see, I never got to really shine in this story, and anyway I had already left well before the ending. And because of this, I was never in that final scene where the hero and I would look across the battlefield, sigh with relief that it was finally over, and clasp each other on the shoulder in gesture of friendship and acceptance. That would have been nice.

However, my favorite fantasy -- and I know you'll think me a hopeless romantic for this, not that I care -- goes something like this: Okay, so its during the final battle, and I've just saved the hero's life by, I don't know, taking a bullet for him. And this would have been me going out in a blaze of glory, and I would have been lying there in said hero's arms as everything slowly fades to darkness around me. Even as the battle continues to ensue around us, all you would see would be me and him. Just me and him.

So as I die, my final words to him would be something like: "I want you to know I was always, and will always be, on your side..." or something equally trite like that. And then I'd close my eyes forever, and there would be music playing in the background, sad and melancholy, and I don't know, maybe he'd even sheds tears for me or kisses me on the forehead, or something. And I'd know, I would always be remembered and perhaps even redeemed in his eyes. And it would all be worth it.

Great. Now, as if I couldn't get anymore melancholy... I take another swig from my bottle.

So there I sat, in a rundown bar in the middle of nowhere, drinking myself into a funk and feeling generally sorry for myself. I didn't know my purpose anymore. My role was done, you know. Good guys won, bad guys died, but I didn't know what the hell I was supposed to do with myself now. That's not to say I'm not glad that the war's over. Hell, that was a bad time to be alive, let me tell you. But somehow I, along with about half the world, managed to survive. And I had been fighting for my life for so long that I think I missed the actual living part of life. Anyway, it was all starting to give me a headache. And I was sitting there, and I didn't even hear him come in.

You know who I'm talking about.


The hero. The savior of the world, the bloody bane of my existence, the purpose of my miserable life. He came in with a swish of his trench and a flick of his wrist and strode purposefully to my table. He swooped towards me in that way where I felt like someone had poured a bucketful of ice water down my back. I looked up and there he was, looking as he always had: Soft brown hair and sad hazel eyes... Heroic and martyred and slightly accusatory. I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life...

Or maybe that was the booze talking. I was well on my way towards drunken oblivion.

"Krycek." He said, bearing down upon me in righteous anger. I looked at him expectantly, and he sighed impatiently at that.

He sat down, uninvited, in the opposite chair and poured himself a glass from my bottle like he owned it. After taking a huge gulp, he wetted his lips and tried again. "You left. You... you just up and left."

I shrugged. "Yeah, so? My part was over. So I left."

He gave me a 'what the fuck' look and shook his head. "No, I mean, we had some unfinished business to settle, and you left. Left without waring like you always do. No goodbye, no 'Good working with you, Mulder', no nothing. Do you know how hard it was for me to find you?"

I smirked at his deep frown and his adorable pout. Oh Mulder, I thought, don't ever change. He had crossed his arms defiantly, jutting out his chin a little, and fastening me with a glare that clearly told me I owed him an explanation. "Mulder," I sighed in return, "what do you want from me. What more could I do? The war's over. The story's finished, and the credits have rolled. It's time for you to get on with the rest of your life and stop clinging to the past."

"That's not good enough for me," he said, looking at me like it was all my fault. He folded his hands around his glass, looking down into the liquid. "Look, I can't just move on with my life, because... fuck! I was my whole goddamn life. And besides, just because the war's over, doesn't mean there isn't still plenty of problems left in the world to solve, so you can't just run away like that. We still need to solve things, so stop turning away from it... like you always have."

Sometimes I can't believe this guy. "Mulder, did anyone ever tell you what a fucking hero complex you have?"

"Krycek, did anyone ever tell you how infuriating you are?"

That made me smile. "I'm told its part of my charm."

And then he gave me this sweet smile, and I almost melted into a pile of goo at his feet. But it faded just as quickly and he became serious again. "Look this isn't easy for me to say, and obviously I'm having difficulty saying it, as you don't seem to have understood me clearly. I don't even understand what possessed me to come here, thinking we'd..."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat several times while I waited there patiently, schooling my face to look blank and slightly bored, even though I was sweating with anxiety on what he was going to say.

"Krycek... I don't even know why I'm telling you this. God only knows you might end up laughing in my face or even using this as blackmail material, given your track record. It's just so hard to trust you. You've switched sides so often you've probably lost count. You are the most annoying person I've ever met, and you spring up like a bad penny, hopping in and out of my life, throwing me off balance..." His voice got hoarser and hoarser as he ranted.

And I have stupid hair, I thought along. I do believe my shrivelled little heart clenched painfully at the lost look in his eyes. Even when he's insulting me I still hurt for him. God, I got it bad. I was so doomed.

"I get it Mulder," I nodded. "I'm a no-good, back-stabbing traitor not fit to lick the soles your shoes. I kick puppies, I eat babies, whatever. So then... Just forget about this whole thing. Go away. I won't come looking to annoy you again, and you can just file me into your past."

"But I don't want that!" He blurted out. He swept a hand through his hair. As if making a decision, he nodded once and looked me straight in the eye. "I felt, during those weeks after the war, I felt like I was waiting for something. Like I was still waiting for my final scene to arrive and make everything complete because it hasn't been yet. It's like the world had started up again, but I hadn't because I still had something I needed to do. And I tried to ignore it, believe me I tried, but it just wouldn't go away.

"I was in denial for awhile..." He suddenly reached out his hand and clasped mine in his. "Because I knew what I needed to do."

"Mulder..." I said weakly, feeling as lightheaded and breathless and weak-kneed as a blushing bride.

"Krycek..." he whispered. "Alex... You've been in my life for so long. You've been through the same shit, the same awful war as I have. I know that we have an awful lot of baggage between us, and it can't all be erased, but the thing is... You're important to me, and I just have to have you back in my life. I want you back. So just come back, and we can just see how it goes from there."

"What.." I snorted, though only half-heartedly. "'This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship'?"

And he smiled at me again. And this smile... It was unbelieveable, mesmerizing. It was like one of those smiles you only gave to your... well, you know.

He stroked over my fingers."It would be the beginning of a beautiful something..."

And that moment... That was when I knew: This was how it was supposed to be, how it was meant to be. I didn't need redemption or glory or a great story at all. And even though I was by no means the hero, I still could get the chance to live happily, maybe even ever after. And I might not have deserved this, but I don't care. It's like the universe was saying to me, we've given you something great so don't screw it up.

I don't know where Mulder and I will end up for the rest of our lives, but I can't be bothered to worry. Forget about the past, forget about the future, and just concentrate on the now.

We walked out of the bar together, just in time for the sun to begin showing its first rays of light. So there we were, ready to face a new dawn, striding towards new adventures together, marching against the rising music, heralding in a new beginning, a new era, and... oh, whatever.


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