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Chapter Five: Getting Away With Murder
Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness
I need to calculate
What creates my own madness.
And I'm addicted to your punishment.
And you're the master.
And I'm waiting for disaster.I drink my drink
And I don't even want to.
I think my thoughts
When I don't even need to.
I never look back
'Cause I don't even want to.
And I don't need to.
Because I'm getting away with murder.~Papa Roach
I didn't flinch as I shot him. It was easy. Even with Mulder in the next room. Knowing what I knew made it easy. I was out the window before I even heard him start running.
I showed up back in D.C. for my meeting. He blew his smoke into my face. I didn't flinch. I breathed it in. He smiled.
"You're to go to Hegal Place," he told me. "Remove the device and then report back." I nodded and he ground his cigarette out. "Remember Alex," he went on, feeling inside his suit pocket for the soft pack of Morley's. He tapped one out. "Mulder is a hinderance to the Project." He used the pure measured tones I was used to, had learned to crave. Sugar and vodka and heroin and sex.
"I understand," I said. I walked out with long strides and tunnel vision.
The streets were dark. No moon. It was the perfect night for what they wanted. Everything had been set up and where it wasn't subtle, it was final. You didn't need subtle when you had the ultimate power of denial. It was a heady feeling.
I had a free ride from here. I'd carried out my orders up to this last. I'd fulfilled my duty and staked my claim on the spoils of the Project. They owed me. More money and more power than I'd ever have the time to quantify. I was in. It was done. Just the blood of one man spilled and I'd saved the world. It was nothing. It wouldn't hurt for long...
The smoker's words filtered through, resounding in that place I went back to again and again to remember. It was a necessary sacrifice. It was all necessary.
This was necessary. Keeping Mulder down. Keeping him off-balance. Nobody was more dangerous. Mulder was a danger to the Project. A danger to the continued existence of humanity on this planet. The words ran together, became a low hum, absorbed into the recess of my mind.
He'd been in the next room. It was almost a sexual rush. Pulling the trigger felt almost like coming. Except for that brief moment... The one where I saw the body ready to drop and knew I could never go back. It was written. I saw the look on his face mirror mine before the low hum of words recovered me from the edge of some gorge I'd just glimpsed carved in the earth before me. I fell back into the unquestioned safety of what I knew to be the truth and fled the scene.
Now I was here. I was irrevocably one of them. Finally. After months of grooming, endless sessions of realignment when I faltered, I'd finally done it. And I didn't even have to see his face when he saw what I'd done to his father.
I'd spent forty-eight hours in the chair to help prepare me for that. And it didn't even happen. I'd escaped. Him. And myself. That old version of me, useless, pathetic, and bound to the covenant of ridiculous human desires. I was unbound now. I was fully myself, more powerful than I could have ever been, tied to his side, an underling, his slave.
They'd freed me. I was better now. I was done with him. After tonight. It was all over.
I was so busy with the feelings of imminent freedom that it wasn't until he had me down on the hood of the car that I even recognized him. And everything shrank down to that second.
Mulder.
This person I'd relegated to memory, this man who'd become no longer physical, an abstract equation I'd thought I'd solved. And there he was, on top of me, hitting me, touching me. I was full of him. And, unbidden, came the memory of his taste.
"Did you kill my father?"
His voice, not theirs. So long without his voice. His breath, strong and acrid. His anger, hard. His eyes, piercing with anguish. Anguish. I'd given him that. And he was erect. I could feel it prodding my thigh, sliding over my crotch. I'd forgotten.
"Did you kill him?"
I couldn't answer. I had an answer prepared. One they gave me. One I'd practiced to death. He wasn't supposed to touch me, though. Not like this. With his whole body, with his rage and his cock stiff against mine. He wasn't supposed to be on top of me like this, to feel so familiar. His pain wasn't supposed to matter. It was only a variable, a number, something unable to impact the greater truth.
But there it was, over me, leaking into me. I saw the raw despair in his eyes. And it was undeniable.
"Answer me."
It was the last thing I could do. He hit me again, knocking me to the ground. He jerked me up, the violence of it kin only to the way he had used my mouth before, comparable only to that. I'd simply forgotten. And everything about him reminded me.
I was about to die, my own gun in my face, and all I could think was that maybe they were wrong.
Then she shot him. And I ran. I was terrified. More of what I'd seen in him and what I'd seen inside myself than of the fact that he'd almost killed me. I was shaking as I drove. I missed the turn to get back to the meeting place. It occured to me that I could keep driving, not go back. I could go think about what I'd done. I could just go think. I could just go.
My cell phone rang, then, and my stomach tightened. I answered it.
"Get back to the office," his voice said, something a note or two off from calm. "You have a new assignment."
I remembered Mulder's face over me. I remembered what it felt like to forget that face. I swallowed and gripped the wheel. "Yes, sir," I managed to whisper. Then I took the next left turn and fought my own thoughts.
To Be Continued...
Series Name: History
Title: History, Chapter Five: Getting Away With Murder
Author: Sage Fyre [email/website]
Details: Series | NC-17 | 5k | 05/12/07
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek
Category: Drama, Angst
Summary: See previous.
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