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12 February 2009 @ 22:18
Wrong Turns & Regrettable Actions  
Title: Wrong Turns & Regrettable Actions
Prompt: Trapped (PT)
Date: January - February 2009
Pairing: One-sided Krycek/Mulder
Summary: Facing an imminently lonely death, Alex Krycek wonders how the hell he got into his current situation and whether there’s even a point in having any regrets. Ironically, his only comfort stems from the one man he blames for this whole mess.
Rating: R
Warnings: Insinuated Slash, Sexual References, Slight Masochism, Minor Angst, Language.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone from the X-Files nor do I have any claim to the series’ creative rights. I merely take the characters and play around with them, with utmost respect given to their original creators. No profit made. Poor student is still poor.
Notes: Set circa the end of X-Files Season 3 and the start of Season 4, so it’s seriously spoiler-heavy if you haven’t seen those two seasons of the show yet. Also has passing references to earlier seasons, but obviously not of latter. Written for varietypack100 's prompt table.
Words: 1869

Alex felt like he’d been stuck there an eternity. Losing all track of time and wallowing in the misery of it. Only the shallow sound of his breathing permeated the silent prison. In this muted reality he could hardly even hear his own heartbeat. What had he done to deserve this? To die here where no-one would find him. To disappear from the face of the earth, unmissed and unloved. Hah… just his luck!

It had been proper fear at first, an emotion the assassin had rarely encountered before. Waking in this man-made tomb with its dim, dust-covered lighting, smothering concrete walls and otherworldly centrepiece; nausea and hysteria had hit him like a baseball bat. He’d hammered at the damn door for hours, until his voice gave out and his fists were bruised and swollen. No-one had come. Since then he’d stayed curled up in the corner, slowly but surely losing hope.

For a while he’d contemplated how it was all going to end. There wasn’t a whole lot of choice… freeze, suffocate, dehydrate or starve. He hadn’t run out of air yet, which was a good sign… maybe there was a ventilation duct somewhere far up in the cavernous ceiling that had eluded the containment procedures… or maybe he was just on borrowed time. The room had been chilly to start off, but he was feeling the cold less and less now. He liked to think that the dull black craft in the centre of the room was exuding some kind of warmth, but to be honest, that was probably just a trick of his delusional mind. There was no food and no water. He knew there was only one way this could end.

Shifting uncomfortably against the hard stone wall at his back, he tucked his legs up to his chest and lay his chin on his knees. If there was one thing Krycek had been good at in life, it had been surviving no matter what the odds. Being a self-serving mercenary bastard had usually paid off. Only this time his plans had backfired; his luck ran out. To be honest, thinking back, things had quickly gone downhill after that botched-job to infiltrate the FBI. After he’d met that eccentric idiot Mulder and his irritating co-worker Scully. Only, Mulder had turned out to be smarter than the assassin had thought. He grudgingly admitted the FBI man’s survival skills almost rivalled his own. Though, respectfully, Mulder wasn’t the one trapped in an abandoned government storage facility.

Swearing vehemently in Russian, he slammed his fist into the cold stone floor, desperate to take his anger out on something. There was a sharp crack as more than a couple of his knuckles broke on impact and pain lanced up his arm. He choked slightly, tears burning at the corners of his hazel-green eyes. Screw that cigarette-smoking bastard who’d left him in here, screw the alien creature who’d possessed him only to chuck him away like a used toy, screw his own gullibility for getting involved in any of this in the first place and screw Fox Mulder for being so damn infallible! That bastard deserved to have his life ruined by everything the organisation planned for him! Krycek had no regrets there. Not concerning the assassination of that idiot’s father, nor aiding in the kidnap of his oh-so-important Scully. Not even…

The silence closed in around him. As he sucked on his bloodied knuckles, a pain-induced tear ran down his dirt-smeared face. Okay, so maybe he did regret that one incident a little. Nearly making the guy fall from the cable car had been a mistake. A mistake he would’ve had to pay dearly for if Mulder hadn’t survived. Despite everything, the crazy FBI agent did have an important role to play in the scheme of things. He had been a useful asset… an ingenious, level-headed, loyal kind of asset… at least to the people he worked with. For some reason, Krycek regretted that too. Even though he’d never technically been a ‘real’ agent, he’d actually quite enjoyed working for the FBI. Well, the paranormal investigations part of it at least… the suits had been murder. Even though he was a man suited to deception, leaving that temporary safe-haven had been the hardest betrayal yet. Maybe in another life things could have worked out differently. Not that any of that was worth dreaming about now.

Alex chuckled quietly to himself, the sound echoing dryly in the parched air. Mulder this and Mulder that. The guy had become quite an unexplainable preoccupation recently. Every turn the organisation had made, there was Mulder, determined to discover the truth. It was impossible to do anything without running into the guy! The assassin didn’t believe in destiny, but he couldn’t help but notice their paths had crossed a great deal more often than was reasonable. The part of his mind which futilely still clung to hope wanted to believe it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe the FBI agent’s curious nature would lead him to investigate this case further; defying the government men blocking his way. Maybe Mulder would follow the leads here… discover the alien craft… rescue him? Pah! Now Krycek knew he was losing it. This damn place was driving him crazy. Soon he’d probably start hallucinating from lack of food and water. It was sad that now, with the end in sight, he couldn’t even trust his own mind not to betray him.

Cradling his hand in his lap, he rested his head against the cool concrete and closed his eyes. There were no reassurances in this bleak jail and any comforts he could pull from memory were few and far between. Alex had steered clear of relationships for the most part and what familial memories he’d retained were somewhat distant and obscure. His job had managed to come before everything else in his life. Hell, his job was his life. Somehow that lacked in consolation. Being a heartless assassin was hardly the kind of occupation to conjure up the warm fluffy feelings.

Maybe it was some strange irony that the closest interpersonal relationship he’d managed to maintain was with his arch nemesis. The memory of Mulder’s fists twisted in his jacket collar, half choking him to death. The only real human contact he’d had in what felt like forever. Krycek was surprised to find it offered some small comfort. The agent’s anger-shortened breaths brushing warmly against his face. The deliciously murderous look in Mulder’s eyes as he considered dropping to the assassin’s level to get his revenge. The mixed feelings of fear for his own life and adrenaline-fuelled anticipation. Even the remembered sense of cold gun-metal pressed into his abdomen, poised to steal his life, was strangely reassuring. Mulder spurred on by vengeance had been a delicious sight. The FBI man was hot when he was angry.

A smile crept across the condemned man’s face. Perhaps this whole confinement-induced insanity wasn’t a bad thing. At least it meant he could die contented, even if it wasn’t the ‘out with a bang’ he’d hoped for. The pain in his smashed fist had dulled; blood smudged messily across his knuckles was now drying. One feeling could easily be overtaken by another, the pain numbed completely. His remaining hand dropped to thumb his belt buckle, his thoughts drifting back to focus on that particular moment.

However wrong it felt, if it would distance him from the unending wait, then it was worth it. It wasn’t like anyone would know. He could even grudgingly admit that he cared what happened to Mulder. The guy wasn’t all that bad, it was just in the assassin’s nature to betray everyone he met. In all honesty, Mulder was his one regret. But the truth didn‘t matter. He’d soon be dead, to hell with the consequences.

Just as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of his underpants, the feeling of being pinned against the airport phone kiosks by Mulder foremost in his mind, a faint noise broke the silence. Frozen mid-thought, Krycek cautiously opened one eye and peered out from beneath his now scruffily lank fringe. Had he imagined it? No… there it was again. The distant scuffle of footsteps, muffled voices and the faint flicker of torchlight reflected down a long passageway and through the door’s tiny reinforced window. It took a moment for the significance of this to register. Half of his mind was still in the process of thinking what an inappropriate time this was to be interrupted, whilst the other half still couldn’t believe what it was hearing. Then reality kicked in and he was on his feet in a matter of seconds. Ignoring the pain as he staggered over to the exit and slammed both his palms against the unforgiving metal. The clang echoed loudly in the silence. Alex slumped heavily against the door, repetitively thumping the surface with his one good hand while building up enough energy to yell out to his would-be rescuers.


The following events all went by in a bit of a blur. His own lack of strength combined with his recent exertion combined to more-or-less block out the moment of rescue. However, he did remember gratefully fawning at the scavenging team’s feet for a good long while before concocting some lame-ass excuse to explain why he was trapped there. Presumably they’d had to drag him out of there after that. Somehow he’d eluded his fate once more. He was not only alive, but free to do what he wanted again. No more government stooges trying to kill him. No more shady superiors shouting orders at him. No more annoying FBI agents standing in his way. He had the opportunity to disappear, live life how he wanted, maybe stick to the right side of the law this time. S’yeah… like that would ever happen!

Eventually he’d felt a gust of cool air brush his face. This was really happening, he was getting out! As he stumbled outside the sun blinded him and exhaustion hit like a tonne of bricks. Before passing out, the only thing Alex Krycek was sure of was that his and Mulder’s paths were sure to cross again.

Emotional State: coldcold
Song Stuck In My Head: Unforgiven (Apocalyptica)