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Chapter Four: From the Inside
I don't know who to trust,
No surprise.
(Everyone feels so far away from me.)
Happy thoughts sift through the dust
And the lies.
Trying not to break,
But I'm so tired of this deceit.
Everytime I try to make myself
Get back up on my feet.
All I ever think about is this,
All the tiring time between,
And how trying to put my trust in you
Just takes so much out of me.Take everything from the inside
And throw it all away
'Cause I swear for the last time
I won't trust myself with you.~Linkin Park
"Maybe it's after effects from Dudley," Scully said.
I swallowed and tried to make the room stop spinning. There were suddenly three blotters on my desk. "Very funny," I told her. "Besides, you were the one who sampled the local delicacies, Scully, not me." I winced. Every word brought a new pain.
She sighed. "You haven't been sick in ages, Mulder. I mean, not anything that wasn't job related." She got up from her chair and came over to feel my head.
"I'm okay," I told her, leaning away. "I just...I think I'll go home a little early." I looked at her, the worried frown she wore like make-up. "I'll be fine. Maybe it was the soylent green chicken," I tried. "Or this stack of expense reports."
She rolled her eyes. Her smile was humorless. At least it was something. I stood up and tried not to sway tellingly. "Just need rest and plenty of television. I'll be fine in a day, Scully, you'll see." I grabbed my suit jacket off the back of the chair. The idea of putting it on brought with it a hot flash and dizzy spell. I squeezed my eyes closed and swallowed convulsively, fighting it off.
"Drink plenty of liquids," she said as I dragged myself toward the door.
I stopped, holding onto the doorjam, feeling like I just might need to make a pit-stop at the basement men's room to puke on the way to the elevator. Still, I looked back at her. Eight months she'd been back, but it was still hard to walk away from her at the end of the day and trust I'd see her again the next morning. I gave her a wan smile that she returned.
"Get better soon, Mulder," she said in parting. "Half these expense reports are yours."
I made myself turn back around and trudge down the hall.
I made a night of sinking as far into my couch as possible. I found myself watching MTV for hours on end, drinking glass after glass of water and never feeling anything but endlessly thirsty.
And that was the primary thing that set this night apart from all the others. In every other way, it was quite average. Same dull headache. Same listless monotony. Same thoughts chasing themselves around in circles, concluding only when they'd fall into one of two places I absolutely refused to let myself go. Both were deadly. Both meant pain. My cock in his mouth, or his knife in my back. I could abide neither. I never let those thoughts surface for very long before cutting them down or drowning them when applicable. I was getting good at avoiding them all together. For the most part.
This night was both blessing and curse. Because I couldn't seem to think of anything. Everything blurred together. Nothing hung around for review or recrimination. Nothing but the frustrating thirst. Everything else was MTV. Color and sound and bytes and images. Nothing permanent. Nothing so drastic as memory.
Couch, water glass, flashing screen, me. Sometimes I felt like I was the one flashing. And then the dull, unnameable anger. If I'd been aware enough, I'd have been relieved that for once it didn't seem to have anything to do with...anything or anyone in specific. It just...was. The irrationality of it would have been refreshing if my head hadn't hurt so damned much.
I was refilling my bottomless glass when the knock came on the door. It was the guys. I told them I hadn't been sleeping and, truthfully, I wasn't even sure what day it was anymore. I might have missed work, even, except that I was pretty sure I would have gotten a call from Scully. They told me about Kenneth Suna. It was enough to clear my head a little. The gunshot from down the hall cleared it considerably more.
"Weirdness," Frohike said and disappeared around the corner. The fact that he left a trail made me worry about exactly how much sleep I'd really missed. The woman's despairing cries followed me back to the apartment where I dressed as quickly as I could for my meeting with The Thinker.
.........
The hours fell in on me. I was given the Holy Grail; it was encrypted. I punched Skinner. I yelled at Scully, my impatience brimming, spilling over, the unnameable anger needing an outlet, finding it anywhere it could. I felt crazy...sick.
Scully asked me why I attacked Skinner. Honestly didn't know. Didn't know. Soundbytes louder, overpowering reason. I held on to any thread I could get my fingers around. Oceans of water. To clear my head.
Dad called. I went there, and he hugged me. I saw the years on his face. Every one. I started to count in my head. One, three, ten, fifty, infinity, infinity... Trembling arms around me. He looked raw and sad.
Gonna tell me something. That fact even seemed to overshadow the pain of holding his dead weight in my arms. Just before, seconds ago maybe, year-long minutes, he'd been the one holding me. Baby boy...
And now...looking down on him... BREATHE! Thought I screamed it. Willed him to look at me and tell me what had made him look so pitiful and so scared. To tell me why he had never hugged me before. To tell me about the merchandise. To tell me if he ever felt anything other than disdain and the deepest shame for me.
The hours fell in on me. Drove back to D.C. Left him there. Like something unloved. He was dead now. He was going to know I'd always hated him even when I loved him. Did I shoot him? I could feel the gun warm in my hand. Could see it. Oh God. Had I done it? I'd told Scully I hadn't. But had I? Hadn't I wanted to? No. Trying to tell me something. I swerved onto the shoulder of the freeway and threw up in the grass.
I went to Scully's because she told me to. Made me lie down. Closed my eyes, saw him bleeding from his mouth and his head. I slept like I was awake. No rest. Woke alone...angry. I called her.
"You took my gun. You think I did it, don't you?" And I did, I thought. I'm the one who hated him most. Room went green. Like forest light.
Accused her. She told me I was sick. Sick. Guilty and sick and sorry. I hung up. Had to get a cab to take me home.
Flash of something dark...darker. Made me run to find it. It was around there. Could feel it. Heart furious. Backed up against the wall. I peered around the corner. Time stopped.
He looked different. So different, with longer hair. Jeans. Jacket. Not my partner. Not the man who left me a year ago. But...was him. I couldn't mistake him. Would have liked to. I wanted to be looking at anyone but him in that moment. Baby boy ready to cry.
Hated him most.
Killed my father.
I flattened out against the wall again. Waited for him. Been waiting... I still remembered what his breath on my face felt like.
Killed my father. Knew so certainly. Knew it bad. The knowing filled the hole he left in my chest. I felt it rotting with spoiled venom. Right there with him getting closer.
The quiet rage needed out. Rage stoically burning for the man I'd once let hold me while I slept. Hugless baby boy...
Went for my gun. Wasn't there. Looked for a brick. Nothing. I held still, felt him nearing. Don't know how. I knew his frequency. I felt him. His warm mouth. His cold cigarettes.
I waited until I could see his face. Eyes alert and darting, lips parted. So close I could have kissed him. We'd never kissed.
Rage. Not quiet. I grabbed him, catching him off guard, and threw him up against the wall as hard as I could.
I had him under my hands and all I could do was HURT. Inside and out. Hurt him hurting me. I held his wrist. He dropped his gun. His thumb in my eye. I hauled him away from the wall and threw him down onto the hood of a car. Hithimhithimhithim. I hit him until I felt his blood spatter my knuckles. In the mouth. That same mouth. Sucked me off. I busted those lips.
Pretty. Pink. Fat. Lying.
Effortless lies. Raping lips. So brutal on my trust. Fragile trust. Couldn't believe I gave him that. Gave him me.
I was seething. Animal. Had to have his gun in my hand. Had to feel what he must have felt when he pulled the trigger and fired the bullet that shattered my father's skull. I left him there bleeding, moaning in pain, and picked up his gun off the ground.
Fell on him again. Hours falling. Fell between his legs. I held the gun on his face, urgent with fear. He feared me. It wasn't enough.
"I'm gonna kill you anyway, Krycek, so you might as well tell me the truth," I spat. Blinked up at me. Pushed him down into the car so hard I was bruising myself. "Did you kill my father?"
Rocking on him, between his legs. Ground my body down to dust on top of him. I found a new way to hate myself when I realized I was fully erect.
I gritted my teeth. "Did you kill him?" He just laid there, eyes rolling back, bleeding from the mouth, pliant. Arms open. Like an angel's. Never hated anyone more than him looking like that. "Answer me," I growled.
When he didn't, I hauled him up and back-handed him. He fell to the ground at my feet and my excited dick throbbed. I kicked him in the stomach. He grunted. It wasn't enough. Pulled him up again. Leather thick in my hands. I wanted him naked. Scratch his bare flesh, watch bruises form, see blood drip over pale skin. I held the gun on him, feeling like my own pain might kill me before I had the chance to fire.
Her voice. "Mulder, don't shoot him. Just back away."
And I hated her, too, just then. "He killed my father, Scully," I said. He was looking at me, looking into my eyes. I was looking into his. He was shaking. I shook when I came inside his mouth.
It wasn't enough. Not enough to stop him. Not enough to stop me.
"I have him, Mulder!"
"No, Scully!"
Rage washing through me as I started to pull the trigger. Tears in his eyes. Tears in mine.
Don't remember the shot. I landed on the ground, pain in my chest, my arm. I heard running. Black. Getting away. Wasn't me who fired. Krycek...getting away.
I groaned, rolling on the ground. No Scully. Away from her. Took him. He was flying. So close to having him. Like needing to come. Willing to sacrifice breath for orgasm. Then denied. Left alone. Untouched. Unfulfilled.
He was gone. And there was nothing I could do to get him back.
To Be Continued...
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Series Name: History
Title: History, Chapter Four: From the Inside
Author: Sage Fyre [email/website]
Details: Series | NC-17 | 10k | 05/09/07
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek
Category: Drama, Angst
Summary: See chapter one for full summary.
Notes: I guess my only warning at this point is an angst-fest warning. It's gonna be angsty for a while before things get resolved.
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