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Alex was trying very hard to quell his anger. He'd gotten so much better over the past couple of years at controlling his rage, even dispersing it to the heavens. But as the comfort and joy of his relationship with Fox began to implode, he found himself backsliding and there wasn't even a weed to grasp to slow his descent down the slippery slope. Fox had sunk to the depths of depression and wasn't having anything to do with being saved. Alex thought, I've been a lot of things, but depressed isn't one of them. He couldn't even relate to it. Fox's inertia had become irritating to all but the staunchest few; i.e., Alex and Walter, the only people willing to tolerate the excess of gloom from this man they loved, but even they were frustrated by their own inability to help in some way.
Everyone knew when it began. It was the day Dana Scully was killed. It didn't even happen in the line of duty, which was a particularly painful fact, especially to Fox Mulder. It was a home accident that propelled Dana into a head injury that extinguished her beautiful presence from their lives. As metaphysical as Fox seemed to be, he couldn't see beyond the physical surroundings to accept Dana's existence on some other level. He wanted her in the here and now; he wanted the conversation and all of the pain and joy that went with it. He couldn't fathom never seeing those fascinating twinkling eyes and the porcelain skin. He didn't want to believe they would never share their personal growth. As far as Fox was concerned, he could grow no more.
He knew this was painful for Alex. Alex, who had come so far from his brutal killing days full of lies and deceit, even Alex couldn't extract an ounce of joy from Fox. Mulder's sorrow had made Alex an unpleasant presence in his life; a constant reminder of Fox's own failure to come out on top, to rise above adversity. Fox hated himself for denying his love to Alex, but he simply could not muster it up. This hurt Alex every minute of every day, until the clarity of his green eyes no longer gleamed under the beautiful black lashes. Alex's love was being extinguished, or so thought Fox.
Alex understood that depression created irrationality, that Fox was incapable of reason when everything seemed extremely unreasonable to him. This didn't ease his pain. He was getting to the point where he couldn't watch his beautiful lover's demise. He was injured by the brutality of Fox shutting him out. Even though he understood that Fox couldn't control it, he was battered by the failure of his love to make things right, to save his lover. Alex could cry himself to sleep every night and wake up the same way every day, but even the tears were starting to dry up. He felt as though his tear ducts were sucked dry by Fox's vampiric illness.
Eight months had transpired since Dana's sad passing, and Alex felt he was moving out of Fox's life as Scully's death seemed to be taking over all the nooks and crannies that once were his.
Upon returning from the grocery store, Alex found Fox right where he had left him, stretched out on his side on the couch, appearing to be watching TV. But Alex knew those eyes were seeing nothing but the inside of a black envelope. He placed the grocery bags on the kitchen table and returned to kneel by Fox. "Hi, babe. How's it going?" He placed his lips against Fox's cheek, then nuzzled his neck.
Fox responded, which he always did, albeit a bit detached. He returned a kiss to Alex's neck. "You smell good. What do you have on?"
"It's just me, honey, dripping love for you from my pores."
Fox loved the things Alex said to him, the things that expressed his love. But they didn't fill up the hollow place in him anymore. Like the universe, his hollowness was ever expanding. "I'll smell yours, you smell mine."
Alex flinched inside. Was there any Mulder love to smell? "Did you take your afternoon meds?"
"Yeah, half hour ago. I'm almost in my coma, now." Fox felt his choices were either mind numbing inertia or throat slitting anxiety; so he took the pills, but often longed for at least a tinge of anxiety - the feel of anything. It was that need to feel that made him take up cutting himself. He had managed to scar himself with an assortment of `x's' on the underside of both forearms. The cutting had started quite spontaneously one day. He hadn't been thinking about it at all, but while sitting at his desk searching through a drawer for a note he had made to himself about a drug side-effect, he came across an Exact-o knife blade. Then, somewhere in the jumbled mess of his brain, he could clearly see himself cutting into his arm. He didn't want to cut so deep he would bleed to death. He just wanted to cut deep enough to mark himself and bleed; but mostly, just deep enough to hurt. Something had to justify his living and pain seemed the justification...and the scabs would remind him that he did, actually, feel. He had managed, due to the subtle estrangement of Alex, to hide the scars for quite awhile. But one night, while Alex playfully tried to wrestle with him, the cuts were discovered as he pulled Fox's shirt off. Fox would always remember Alex's confused and frightened expression and the blush of his own shame that someone had seen how low he had sunk.
Alex tried to force a promise from him that he wouldn't do it anymore. He even threatened to have him committed. The ensuing argument became loud when Fox told him that he couldn't make that promise, and as far as committing him, he'd kill himself before he let that happen. Alex pulled back a bit after that and began to treat him like he was a broken bird. Fox didn't like that much, but it was better than being bullied. So, he continued the cutting and now had about thirty `x's' on each arm. As they healed, he would re-open them, ensuring scars for the long run. Like a drug, the urge to cut himself would overwhelm him offering a comfort he was unable to get in any other way.
"So, babe, do you want dinner out, or shall we dine in?" Alex hoped he'd say "out" but knew better.
"I don't want to go out. Too much trouble. Let's eat in. I'll even help."
Mock horror enveloped Alex's face. "I don't know if my heart can survive that! I'm so unused to such a contribution."
"Shut up, or I'll just stay in my coma."
"Nope, get your ass up here, boy." He pulled Fox to his feet and immediately enveloped him with his arms. He felt a momentary sincere hug from Fox, quickly followed by a kiss to the mouth. "Let's skip dinner and just fuck." Alex was afraid to say those things anymore because he knew that Fox, more often than not, would reject the idea. But he was so grateful for the times when he said "yes" to the offer and they could share their bodies, each with the other.
Fox tensed a bit at the request and rested his face against the green-eyed beauty's chest. "Let's see what happens. Okay?" He hated himself for not jumping at the chance to make love to this man, but the fact was that he just didn't have much desire for sex these days. Another reason to hate himself. He could imagine them having sex. He just couldn't get a sense of what it felt like. He knew it felt good, but he couldn't recall exactly how good it felt. He knew Alex deserved to have him, fuck him, blow him, whatever he wanted. Alex deserved to come. Maybe Alex deserved to have someone else.
Fox surprised himself with that thought. Maybe Alex should go.
"Okay, babe, we'll see how it goes." Alex pulled Fox along by the hand into the kitchen and plopped him down at the table. He handed him the cutting board and a knife. "So, can I trust you with this knife?" He actually said it with a touch of sarcasm. In desperate times, one must try to find some humor. "Or will it become just another brush for your canvas?"
Fox thought for a moment. "How `bout if I use it to carve your initials on my ass? Or better yet, you carve your initials on my ass."
"Like a brand? `This ass belongs to Alex Krycek'. Nah, it's not really my ass anyway. You just share it with me." Alex's eyes began to tear up, so he quickly turned away from Fox to get some salad fixings from the fridge.
Fox felt a little stab to his heart knowing how much the situation was hurting Alex. All those silly little things that passed between them use to deliver such warmth and joy; now, they only bruised. There were so many things that Fox could say that would give Alex some relief from this torture. But the words were trapped in his throat; forever wedged somewhere between his heart and his lips. This love was killing them both. "I was thinking of going away for awhile." Fox waited to hear what effect that statement would have.
Alex didn't know how to react. He didn't know if he should be nonchalant or stubbornly defiant. It was always like this; fiercely protective of Fox, he wanted to strongly argue against the bad suggestion, but he felt afraid of putting another crack in the man's fragile housing. So, Alex continued his dinner preparations as if Fox had said `I like carrots'. "Where do you think you might like to go?"
"Well, I haven't actually thought about it that much. But it just seems it might be a good thing for me to get away....somewhere."
Alex continued to speak calmly as he turned the water on to boil. "Do I get to come?"
"Well, I thought it might just be a solo trip. Alone. I think that might be good."
"Good for who," asked Alex, his voice getting edgy.
Fox took note of the attitude change and told himself to proceed with caution. "I think it would be good for you....to be without me for awhile."
Alex violently twisted his body away from the stove to face Fox and shouted, "If I want to be without you, I can make that decision myself! I can walk out the door. What the fuck is it with you? You think I'm only here for the good times? Where the hell do you get off telling me what I need?" He was breathing heavily and began pacing with his arms tightly folded across his chest, the real one into the prosthetic arm. Fox wondered if he was restraining himself or protecting himself with his arms crossed like that. They looked so rigid.
Fox was starting to feel angry, although he didn't know why. He thought it might be, in some convoluted way, that he was being told what to do. `Mind your own business', in essence. He felt like attacking. Plain and simple. So he did. "Okay, Alex. I want to be alone. I want to be away from everything, and that includes your painful puppy dog eyes, your wounded expressions, your tiptoeing around me. You're strangling me with your emotions, and I'm fucking strangled enough by my own. You've got to back off and let me -"
"And let you what? Let you shrivel up and die and blow away?"
"That's not what's going on. I'm just lost right now. I don't know why."
"What do you mean? Everybody knows why, Fox. Dana died. Dana had a stupid accident and it killed her. That hurt a lot of people, not just you! But she's the one who died, not you. And you know what? She'd be pretty disgusted with your behavior. This is -"
"Don't fucking tell me what she would think! You haven't got any Goddamn clue. JESUS CHRIST! You were everybody's enemy for years. Don't tell me you fucking know what someone like Dana Scully would think. Someone like you couldn't possibly know what someone like her would think." As soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. But Alex probably thought he believed it and that was good enough for Fox. "You shouldn't even speak her name."
Fox's words hurt. But they only inspired Alex to be more vehement. "Thanks, you bastard."
"No, that's you, you fucking rat-bastard."
"Yes, that's me. Rat fucking bastard. But at least I'm not the leech you are."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means I'm not sucking off a tragedy and denigrating a sacred friendship the way you are. Trivializing what you and Scully had by moping yourself to death, by chasing away anyone who has ever cared about you. You should be ashamed, because Dana would be ashamed at what you've become."
A horrible, painful, frightening scream shattered through Mulder's body and tore into the air around them. As he screamed, he lunged at Alex, hurling the both of them into the stove and knocking the pot of heating water to the floor. The exposed burner flame hissed as some sprinkles of water landed on it. They both slipped on the spilled water and crashed to the floor, Mulder atop Alex who had barely had time to unlock his arms in defense. Mulder was choking Alex ferociously while receiving hard blows from Alex's good hand. "Fox, stop! STOP!" But he wouldn't. He just kept squeezing Alex's throat and then banging his head on the floor.
Painful words erupted from Fox, "I hate you, I hate you. Let me go. Just let me die. I want to die. LET. ME. DIE."
Alex grabbed Fox by a wrist and was able to leverage himself from under his crazy attacker. He threw Fox onto his back and then slid himself away, pressing his back against the cabinetry. Fox just lay on the kitchen floor screaming and sobbing. Alex was terrorized by the sight of this man who had been through so much in his life, who was incredibly resilient, reduced to a screaming maniac. He wanted to crawl to him and cover him with his body and his kisses and his love. But he was, finally, afraid and tired. Too worn out from eight months of erosion to move his battered soul three feet. And there wasn't any assurance his love would be well received. It was all just too painful and debilitating. He felt as though his heart had slowed to a stop.
Ten minutes must have passed before the crying stopped and an eerie silence fell over the darkening kitchen. Neither one of them would move, but Alex spoke. "I don't know how to help you, Fox. I don't even know how to love you anymore."
Fox responded with a nastiness Alex was unused to, "I don't want you to love me. I just want to be alone."
That deafening silence that Alex had always heard about descended. So, this is it, he thought. This is how it ends. "I'll be out of here within the hour."
"No, you won't. I'm going. I'm leaving for awhile and you may as well stay here. This is your place, too."
"It was yours first."
"It doesn't matter. I've got to get away from here. From everything."
"Geographical cures don't work, Fox, because you can't get away from yourself."
Alex stood up on shaky legs and began to clean up the mess. Fox stood, too, and turned the burner off. They both found an overwhelming message in that simple act of extinguishing the flame. Alex thought to himself, At least I didn't do it. You did, Fox. You.
Neither one feeling up to eating, they retreated to separate areas of the apartment. Alex went to the bedroom and Fox resigned to the couch, his old friend. They were both numbed by what had transpired. Fox was surprised because he didn't think he could get any more numb than he already was.
Alex's numbness was that of a torture victim who could no longer feel the pain, but knew it was still being inflicted. It was the numbness one must get from the death of a lover. And it was at that moment he understood where Fox was at or, better yet, where he wasn't. He wasn't in the here and now. He was incapable of getting to it.
Alex drifted into a fitful yet leaden sleep. He was down so deep that he never heard Fox gathering some of his clothes and other personals from the bedroom. When he finally woke, it was morning. And as usually happens on the day after a personal loss, a second of normality was obliterated by the remembrance of a tragedy and the knowledge that nothing was the same. He went to the bathroom for the standard morning pee. As he stood in front of the toilet, his eye caught the irregularity at the sink; Fox's toothbrush was gone. As the pee drained from him, he opened the mirror of the medicine cabinet to notice a few other items gone. He felt an immense panic and sadness. He expected to go to the living room and be met with a void as large as the universe, so he was surprised to see his wounded, yet vicious, bird sitting on the couch. Fox was fully dressed in comfortable clothing, looking freshly groomed. Next to the couch were his suitcase and a small backpack, which lay at his feet.
"Alex, I've left a check for you that will cover my half of the rent for a few months. I doubt anyone will want to know, but if someone calls asking for me, tell them I...that I -"
"That you've traveled on. I guess they can call you on your cell phone."
"No. I'm not taking it."
"But...what if I have to...."
"To what? There's no reason to call me, Alex. And there's no one left who would want to. Just let it go...please."
Alex suddenly gasped for air. "Oh, God, Fox. Why is this happening? I can't go through this world without you."
In a second, Fox was up and holding Alex in his arms, letting him cry on his shoulder. "It's happening, Alex. This is killing both of us and the truth is, I don't want you to die along with me." He pushed Alex back a little and placed a hand on each side of his face. "I love you, Alex. I will always love you and I know that I will never love anyone else."
"Then, why-"
"But my love for you and yours for me, together they just don't seem to be enough to save me. It's not your fault. You are an indestructible shelter against the storm. But I simply do not want to be sheltered."
What more could Alex do? No words would dissuade Mulder from his appointed exile.
"Do you have your meds?"
"I've got enough for two weeks. I'm going to wean myself off of the crap and see if I can get a clear-headed image of me."
"Will you let me know where you are?"
Mulder thought for a moment as he gazed into the green eyes of this genuine man. "I will, Alex. Not like clockwork. But sometimes, when I'm not feeling selfish, I will let you know. Just respect my choice to be alone? Okay?"
Alex nodded.
Fox pulled Alex to him and they met lips to lips. It was a gentle kiss, one that Alex wanted to infuse with passion so Fox would always remember what he was leaving behind. But he didn't let himself do it; the thought was too frightening. Fox stepped back from him, bent down to pick up his backpack and grabbed his suitcase. He moved silently to the door. Alex remained planted firmly in his agony where Mulder had given him his last kiss.
"I can't bury you, Fox. I'm always going to be here. While you wander, I will be here. When you feel most alone, you will not be. And I will be there, inside you. You can not get rid of me. You will feel my arms around you in the night. And you will remember my hard cock pressed up against you. And my kisses will torment you every day you are gone. You can grow to hate my memory and the very utterance of my name, but when you come back, you'll find me here."
Fox could only stare at him blankly. He turned, opened the door, and passed from sight. Alex called out to him, "We're connected, Fox. Nothing you can do will break this chain."
End of the first leg of the journey
Series Name: Constant Sorrow
Title: Constant Sorrow, Part 1
Author: Ivskn [email/website]
Details: Series | R | 18k | 04/19/08
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek
Category: Drama
Summary: Scully is dead. Mulder can't deal with it and leaves Krycek.
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