Five Things That Never Happened To Alex Krycek
by Candace
Rated: Rated: PG
Pairing: Alex Krycek
Author's Notes: 1. Somewhere in the world it must still be Jan. 24! 2. I need to give credit to the screenwriters' dialogue from each film. They know who they are.
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1. Krycek never met Borat
Krycek exited his seedy hotel room in New York City. After a few moments he had the feeling that he was being followed, so he turned into an alley and waited. Sure enough, two men entered the alley after him. It wasn't what Krycek expected to see, however. A tall man in a bad suit with bushy black hair and an equally bushy mustache held a large microphone. Behind him was a man with a large movie camera, filming the encounter. The tall man approached Krycek.
"Jagshemash! Hello, thank you to speak me. My name a Borat. I like you. I like sex. It's nice. I am here to make movie to take back to my country of a Kazakhstan. Since the 2003 reforms, Kazakhstan is as civilized as any other country in the world. Women can now travel on inside of bus, homosexuals no longer have to wear blue hats and age of consent has been raised to 8 years old."
`Great, another crazy person in NYC', Krycek thought as he turned and began to walk away.
Borat grabbed Krycek's arm. "Please, I invite you to come to Kazakhstan, where we have incredible natural resources, hard-working labor and some of the cleanest prostitutes in all of central Asia. My sister...she´ s a...prostitute. "
"I'm sad for you," Krycek said flippantly, turning once again to leave.
"That´s sad, why? She like to make money, high five!" Borat came around to the front of Krycek and tried to give him a high five, but his raised hand was met by empty air. "She was voted by Almaty Chamber of Commerce as best sex in mouth. She is number 2, or 3, best prostitute in the country of Kazakhstan," Borat announced, beaming proudly. "Now her vajine is loose like a wizard's sleeve."
"Okaaay…" Krycek said, "Good for your sister. I'm outa here."
"But wait. I am interview you to learn about the great country of America. I learn a little bit already. Democracy is different in America. For example, women can vote but horse can not!" Borat shook his head in wonder. He then raised his eyebrows in inquiry. "Maybe you want learn about my country? In Kazakhstan we have many hobbies. Disco dancing, archery, rape, and table tennis. In Kazakhstan, three main issues: economic, social, and Jew."
Borat stepped away from Krycek and waved one arm in the air as he began to sing into his microphone. "Throw the Jew down the well, so my country can be free...You must grab him by his horns, and then we have a big party."
Borat's singing was cut off by Krycek, who purposely banged his body hard into the singer's shoulder when he walked past. Borat ran the few steps required to catch up with Krycek.
"You shove me, you hurt my body. So you are strong, powerful man, yes? We say in Kazakhstan, a man who goes to power, must have a big... how you say?" Borat gestured to his groin. "How you say...khram? You have a big, you have big khram?" Borat looked down and surveyed Krycek's package. "Is nice… Is a good, but I have… seen bigger. In Kazakhstan we say man who has never killed a man is like man with no khram."
"Is that so?" Krycek asked. "In that case, I don't think you need to worry about my krahm."
"Please, you come see my film. If it not success, I will be execute."
Krycek snorted as he surveyed the alley. "Oh, you don't have to worry that, either." A moment later two pops were heard echoing against the brick walls. Krycek holstered his gun just before he exited the alley, leaving behind the two badly-dressed corpses.
2. Krycek never ran for President and won, then lost due to a corrupt Supreme Court
Alex Krycek stood before the audience of college students. "Hello, I'm Alex Krycek, and I used to be the next President of the United States," he quipped. The crowd burst into laughter and applause. "I'm here to show my slides about An Inconvenient Truth. We cannot pretend that this isn't happening. This is a planetary emergency. We have a category five denial of this issue," he announced. "I believe our political system is broken, however, I have optimism and hope. A rebellion is gathering." He gave a nod to his primary aides seated in the front row, Mulder, Scully, and Skinner. "Our current White House administration is pushing the agenda that this is the biggest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people. But make no mistake about it. Every single one of 922 independent reports are in agreement that we are in the midst of an alien colonization. We must act now, or in ten years we will be past the point of no return." Alex Krycek then showed his many slides of horrible, inconvenient truths, and hoped that the message would take hold and spread. Perhaps there was hope for a safe world after all, if only everyone would be responsible and do their part.
3. Krycek never visited Brokeback Mountain
The two men kissed brutally against the backdrop of spectacular mountain scenery and a bright blue sky. Krycek pushed away from the man and stared into hazel eyes. "I wish I knew how to quit you!"
Mulder nodded, turned, and went to pack his gear. "See you the same time next year, Krycek." He loaded his pick-up truck and drove down the mountain, leaving Krycek standing there to watch his departure.
One week later: Krycek and the woman kissed brutally against the backdrop of spectacular mountain scenery and a bright blue sky. Krycek pushed away from her and stared into cerulean eyes. "I wish I knew how to quit you!"
Scully nodded, turned, and went to pack her gear. "See you the same time next year, Krycek." She loaded her pick-up truck and drove down the mountain, leaving Krycek standing there to watch her departure.
One week later: Krycek hissed as his bare backside was brutally whipped against the backdrop of spectacular mountain scenery and a bright blue sky. Krycek stood, turned around, and stared into wire-rimmed eyes. "I wish I knew how to quit you!"
Skinner nodded, turned, and went to pack his gear. "See you the same time next year, Krycek." He loaded his pick-up truck and drove down the mountain, leaving Krycek standing there to watch his departure.
One week later: Krycek grimaced as he was brutally handed several large manilla envelopes against the backdrop of spectacular mountain scenery and a bright blue sky. Krycek looked up from the envelopes and stared into watery eyes. "I wish I knew how to quit you!"
Spender nodded, turned, and inhaled his cigarette. "See you the same time next year, Krycek. Now follow those orders to the letter, as always." He entered the back of his limo and was driven down the mountain, leaving Krycek standing there to watch his departure.
4. Krycek was never The 40 Year-Old-Virgin
Krycek sat against the trunk of the old tree, musing about the past several years. They had done it, they had won the war against colonization. It was damn near a miracle, but it was over. He had fought hard alongside his old cohorts, Mulder and Skinner. The three of them helped the Resistance with a combination of brilliant plans, and then turned around and rid the world of the Resistance as well. Along the way they all got their hands dirty, killing alien after alien. Krycek fought with such ferocity that neither Mulder nor Skinner would believe it when he told them that although he had killed hundreds of aliens, he had never once killed a human being. It was true, despite Mulder's mistaken belief about Bill Mulder's demise. Krycek was pure; he was an innocent when it came to the murder of his own species. His virtue in that regard was intact. The alien war had been fought for years, and now that it was over, there was peace to be had. Lives to be led. But Krycek could not begin to live his life until one more matter was taken care of. There was no threat to the planet anymore, but he would find no personal peace until he finished one last bit of business. The sound of a car approaching made Krycek stiffen. He moved further behind the base of the tree, hiding himself. He was sure he couldn't be seen, as the tree was on the side of the house, behind a hedge of shrubbery. He continued to listen as he heard the familiar sounds of a car parking in the driveway, the engine turning off, the car door opening and closing, footsteps, a key going into a lock, the front door of the house opening and closing. Krycek stood and crept towards the front of the house, his nose twitching from the lingering cigarette smoke coming through the car's open window. On the porch, he peered through the front door's window. He saw the old man inside the house crush out the cigarette in an ashtray, then reach for a new one and light up again. Krycek raised his gun and released the safety. He would no longer be a 40-year-old virgin.
5. Krycek's life was never Stranger Than Fiction (or wait, maybe it was!)
Alex looked in the mirror as he brushed his teeth.
Man's voice: "This is a story about a man named Alex Krycek. He lived a life of solitude. He would walk home alone, he would eat alone. When other people's minds would fantasize about their upcoming day..."
Alex froze. He removed the toothbrush from his mouth and looked around. "Hello?"
Man's voice: "...Alex just counted brush strokes and planned on who he would have to kill that day."
"Alright, who just said Alex just counted brush strokes and planned on who he would have to kill today?" Alex asked angrily, scanning his bathroom ceiling for any sign of a hidden camera. He put his toothbrush away, then went into his bedroom and finished getting dressed.
Man's voice: "Alex put his toothbrush away. Then he went into his bedroom and finished getting dressed."
"Whoever you are, you are dead. I don't care how many loudspeakers you set up in my apartment, I will find them all and destroy them!" Alex cursed as he left his apartment. He walked down the stairs to the sidewalk and began the short walk to his car. He approached his car.
Man's voice: "Alex approached his car."
Alex groaned. "Oh no, you've rigged my car up, too? Damn you. Well, I've had enough of this. I'm walking!" Hell, he'd take public transportation if it would get him some blessed silence for awhile. He began walking to the bus stop, which was several blocks away. He had things to do this morning. He'd take care of the inconvenient loudspeakers in his apartment and car later on. Who was watching him and mocking him? Was someone paying him back or playing a practical joke? Was it one of the smoker's men? He shrugged. He'd deal with it tonight. He decided to take a short-cut and cut across an expansive empty lot.
Man's voice: "Alex crossed an empty lot as he walked to the bus stop."
"Damn it!" Krycek wheeled around. This didn't make sense. There was no one around for a hundred feet in any direction. He knew about microphones that could pick up from great distances, but loudspeakers that sounded like they were right next to his ear? "It must be on my clothes, or on my body," he surmised as he did a quick scan of his clothes and head. "I'll figure this out, and then you're dead meat!"
Unfortunately, Krycek couldn't figure it out. The next few weeks passed by in the same manner, with Krycek unable to determine where the source of the hidden loudspeaker was. It remained a mystery, despite the fact that he had moved from his apartment into one hotel room after another, bought all new clothes, and hadn't used his car at all. Someone must be going through a lot of trouble to set up the loudspeakers, but how could they know which hotel room he would spontaneously book himself into each night, and the voice would be in there narrating his life the moment he would enter? Krycek came to the only conclusion that he could. It wasn't a set of loudspeakers. Someone was actually narrating his life. How bizarre. He really should call Mulder in on this, it was right up his alley. But of course, he couldn't do that. Mulder would kill him on sight before he would ever help him. He'd just have to muddle through his very own X-File on his own.
One day Krycek crouched on the roof of a building, looking through the scope of his rifle. Right on time, his target left his office below and Krycek carefully took aim.
Man's voice: "Alex looked through the scope of his rifle and carefully took aim."
Krycek never knew when the voice would come, and hearing it now rattled him and threw his concentration off. "I can't think when you're talking!" His nerves were shot, and before he knew it, his target had exited the alley and climbed in a waiting car. Krycek could only watch as the car drove off. He couldn't believe it. He fucked up! His mark was driving away! How the hell was he supposed to explain this one to the boss? He found himself exasperated.
Man's voice: "He found himself exasperated. .."
"Shut up!" Krycek yelled, looking up at the sky. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
Man's voice: "...cursing the heavens in futility."
"No I'm not, I'm cursing you, you stupid voice, so shut up and leave me alone!!"
Krycek dissembled his rifle, packed it up, and descended the stairs. He walked down the street to his car, and decided he could come back again the next day and take out his mark, this time without fail, voice or no voice. The old man was out of town, so maybe he'd never have to find out that Krycek was off by a day. He looked at his watch. Five thirty. Okay, so he'd come back tomorrow, same time.
Man's voice: "Alex looked at his watch and noted the time. He decided to return the next day and attempt the hit again, but with more confidence. Little did he know that events had been set in motion that would lead to his own imminent death."
Krycek looked up from his watch. "What?" He yelled at the sky. "What? Why? Come on!"
In desperation, he headed over to the local university, and barged into the office of a well-known professor of literary theory. He'd attended a lecture by this man back in the day, and he knew the man to be extraordinarily knowledgeable in his field.
"Professor, sorry to interrupt, but I'm desperate. I don't know where else to turn. My name is Alex Krycek, and I'm being followed. It's by a man's voice. He's narrating."
The professor looked wary. "You have a voice speaking to you?"
"No, not TO me. ABOUT me. Accurately, and with a better vocabulary."
"Interesting. Well, at least I know you're not schizophrenic. Tell me about it."
Krycek relayed the story of the last few weeks of his life, repeating verbatim most of the narrative that had been dogging him.
"Fascinating, " remarked the professor. "The narrative follows the known literary structure of a classic tale. The thing to determine conclusively is whether you're in a comedy or a tragedy."
Krycek snorted. "I think it's pretty clear that I'm living a tragedy. He's narrating about my imminent death!"
The professor waved his arm in a way that showed he clearly dismissed what Krycek had just said. "You're missing the point, Mr. Krycek. Up to this point you have simply been living your life, or in this case the narration of your life, as it comes along. But if you step up and take control of your own life, seize the day and take charge, then maybe you can change the course of the narration. As a literary theorist, I'm suggesting that you might be able to change your fate by turning your story from a tragedy into a comedy."
"How the hell do I do that?"
"Simple," the professor responded. "Just follow one of comedy's most elemental formulas: a love story between two people who hate each other. Have you met anyone that might loathe the very core of you?"
"Ooh yeah, there's someone who definitely meets that criterion. And you think if we can fall in love, then I might not be killed off?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Can't get killed off in a comedy. Good luck, my boy."
So Krycek did what he had always wanted to do. He initiated a romance with Mulder and experienced true love and true life for the first time. He and Mulder were blissfully happy together over the next several weeks. He was convinced he had escaped his fate, as his story seemed to be taking on all of the characteristics of a comedy in which he will not, and cannot, die.
It was with this renewed faith that he revisited the professor. He entered the professor's office. "Hey, remember me? I can't thank you enough for your advice. It worked!" Krycek was quite animated as he told his tale of love, and the professor thought that he was most unlike the dour man that he had first met.
"This is wonderful, Alex. I know you and this Fox of yours will be very happy." The professor shook his hand and patted him on the back. After Krycek had turned to leave, the professor sat down on the sofa in front of his desk and turned on the small television set.
Krycek, almost to the door, was stopped in mid-stride by a familiar voice. "He's talking again, but wait, he's not talking about me!" He turned his attention to the television. Krycek reached over and turned up the volume, and listened as the man being interviewed on the talk show spoke some more. "That's him! That's the voice!"
"Oh no, are you sure?" asked the professor.
"Yes, of course I'm sure, I've been hearing the voice for months. It's him!"
"In that case, I'm very sorry, Alex, but this isn't good news. That's Chris Carter, and his stories always end up as tragedies."
"But you said...but I'm happy!"
"If it was any other author, you'd be fine, Alex. But in all of Carter's works, the character always dies at exactly the moment he finds he has the most to live for. Tough break, kid."
"No, I'm not going to leave it like that! You told me to seize the day and take control over my fate. So tell me how to get in touch with this Carter guy!"
"Okay, go for it. He works at 1013 Publishing. I know the number." The professor tapped in the number, then handed the phone over to Krycek.
"1013 Publishing House. How may I direct your call?"
"I want to be connected to Chris Carter's office," Krycek huffed.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Chris Carter sat typing at his computer. He typed the sentence `The phone rang.' At the precise moment he finished typing the sentence, the phone rang. He looked up. Funny coincidence, he thought. But weird, it didn't continue to ring. Just that one ring. Oh well, he shrugged. Then he typed the next sentence `The phone rang again.' The second he had typed the period at the end of the sentence, the phone rang. Once. Bizarre, Carter thought. He got up, went across the room to pour himself another cup of coffee, and came back to his desk. He typed the sentence `The phone rang again' He hesitated and paused with his finger over the period key on the keyboard. The very moment his finger hit the period key to finish the sentence, the phone rang. He quickly picked up the phone.
"Hello?" he asked, slightly spooked.
"Mr. Carter? Chris Carter?"
"Yes."
"My name is Alex Krycek. I believe that you are writing a story about me."
"Is this a joke?" Carter demanded.
"No, it's really me. I'm coming to see you right away, so don't go anywhere."
Later, Krycek approached the receptionist' s desk in the lobby of 1013 Publishing House. "I need to speak to Chris Carter. I'm one of his characters. I'm in his new book, and he's going to kill me."
Whatever look was on his face didn't allow the receptionist to waiver at all. She gave him the office number and pointed to the elevators. He rode up and approached the office. He thought it would be awkward to meet this man, but he was just too damn mad to let that bother him. He rapped on the door and entered without waiting for anyone to open it.
"You Carter?" he asked the seated man.
Carter stood. "Is it really you?"
"Yeah, I'm Alex Krycek." Krycek then spent the better part of an hour explaining his life to Carter, who just stood there in shock, because of course, he already knew it all already!
Krycek finally finished talking. His anger had dissipated greatly by this point. He pleaded with Carter. "You have to understand that this isn't a story to me, it's my life. I want to live!"
Carter was unexpectedly moved by Alex's predicament. "I can see how important this is to you. But I have a story to write. I need you to die for the sake of the art. All I can do is promise you that I'll think about it."
Carter spent the next few days wondering what to do. He wondered if it was healthier to be distanced from one's work to the point where killing off Alex is just work, or should one be so in love with the character that the author considers him as real? How much did the value of a single human life weigh against what might just be an immortal work of art, a great novel? Finally, he came to a decision.
Alone in his office, Carter sat down and looked at his computer. "Sorry, Alex, but I am so much more important than you are! I've decided that you are inconsequential after all. I can't believe I even wasted these last few days questioning my greatness! What was I thinking!"
He began to type. `Alex entered the parking garage beneath the Hoover Building.'
Carter's voice: "Alex entered the parking garage beneath the Hoover Building."
As Alex entered the garage, he shook his head at hearing the narration. "Great. Here we go again."
Carter's voice: "Alex had not wanted things to get to this point. He had always admired Mulder, had always looked up to him like a brother in arms. Fighting the same battle but on different sides. But Mulder had found out too much; he had found out just how high inside the FBI the Conspiracy really went. Mulder must be stopped. Although it pained him to do so, Alex knew that he must end Mulder's life tonight."
"What?! No! Noooooo!" Alex screamed. "You can't make me do that! Please!!"
Carter's voice: "Alex would wait until Mulder was alone in his car, then Alex would smash the car window and force him out. They would argue about each other's virtues, or lack thereof. Alex would hesitate to pull the trigger on Mulder, saying that he really did not want to do it, but that he had no choice. Then Skinner would show up and set up Alex's final downfall."
"Nooo! I don't care what you do to me, just don't make Mulder think I want to kill him! Please!" Alex cried.
"Krycek, what are you moaning about? What's going on?" Skinner asked. "Are you hearing the narration right now?"
"Skinner! Where did you come from? How do you know about the narration? Can...can you hear it too?"
"No, I can't hear it, but Mulder told me all about it. What's it saying right now?"
"I'm supposed to be having a talk with Mulder about not wanting to kill him, and then after a few minutes you show up, and...wait a minute. How can you be here already? Mulder isn't even here yet. Something's off. The narration is never wrong, ever. It's always perfectly accurate! How can I be here talking with you if I haven't had that conversation with Mulder yet that I was supposed to have?"
Skinner shook his head. "We'll just wait here for Mulder to show up. Maybe then things will get back on track."
"You don't get it. It's my life, it's accurate to the very second! What's going on?"
Krycek suddenly became overwhelmed with the sensation that he was not sure what to do next. He had no clue. So all he could do was follow Skinner's suggestion, and the two of them waited for Mulder to take his cue and show up. And they waited. And waited. Finally, over an hour later, Mulder's car pulled into the garage and came to a stop in front of them. Krycek ran to his side of the car as Mulder got out of the driver's seat.
"Mulder!" cried Krycek. "Something weird is going on! You're late, and the timing of the narration was off, and I haven't heard any narration at all in the last hour, and I don't understand what's happening!"
"It's okay, Alex," Mulder said as he wrapped his arms around the distraught man. "Luckily for you, I know what's going on."
Krycek pulled away from Mulder. "You do? How?"
Mulder smiled. "Let's just say I brought you a present." Mulder turned back towards the car and bent over to grab something from the passenger-side seat. He pulled out a plastic bag and handed it to Krycek. "Here, Alex."
Krycek opened the bag and pulled out a notebook with wide binding. He opened it to the first page, then looked up at Mulder as realization dawned. "It's Carter's manuscript of my life! It's my story!" He looked back at the notebook. "Let me see how my story ends!" he said, frantically turning the pages to get to the end. "What the...the last bunch of pages are all stuck together with...with blood." He looked at Mulder, who was currently using a handkerchief to scrape some dried blood from his hands. "Mulder, what did you do?"
"Nothing. I just gave you your life back, that's all."
Alex smiled. "You mean, you gave us *our* life back. Thank you, Mulder." Alex hugged Mulder and squeezed him tight.
Mulder pulled out of the hug. "Come on, Alex, let's go to my office. No one's there this late, and we can be as noisy as we want to be." Mulder reached into his pocket for his car keys, then tossed them over to Skinner. "Be a pal, Walt, and dispose of that for me, will you?" Mulder asked, nodding his head towards the car trunk.
Skinner watched Mulder and Krycek walk arm in arm into the underground garage entrance to the Hoover Building. He shook his head and got into the car. "Mulder, Mulder, why do I always have to cover your ass?" He started the car and wondered where the hell he was going to go to get rid of the contents of the trunk. "I guess I'll just head towards the Potomac. I know it's not original, and certainly not creative, to dump a body in the river, but hell, I'm not the writer."
The End
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