Title: When Death Was Kind Author: Lissa E-mail address: alexeevv@cadvision.com Disclaimer: All characters in the story belong to 20th Century Fox, 1013 and Chris Carter. Fox and Alex belong to each other. Warning: Implied violence, m/m interaction Rating: PG Category: SA Keywords: Slash, Mulder/Krycek Spoilers: None Summary: Alex meets death. Archive: DO NOT ARCHIVE. Feedback: Yes, yes, yes! Please! Author's notes: Thanks to Lone Gungirl and Araxdelan for beta. You are fantastic. Thank you for the encouraging words. All people I did not mention because there are so many of you, people who helped me and said me wonderful words. You are the best. Thank you. *********When Death Was Kind********* Men behind him, in front of him. Men around him. Fear. But no run. Pride. Strength. So no run. Then fight. Can't. Tired. Weak. Hurt. They found, shot and now hurt. So can't fight. But no run, no scream. Nobody will help. No help for him. Help from no one. Sharp pain. Shame cuts the thoughts. Dirt, sand on the lips and dry cry. Cuts on the skin. Pour blood. Sweat...not his. Breaking inside quick, hard. Pain again. Heart stopped beating. Cold. Warm tears. Becoming colder. Low, lower, lowest. Bottom of the earth, dirt, sand. Water? Must be rain. Washing dirt. Covering crime. Like always, like before, like it will do for eternity. No crime. No blood. No dirt. Freshness and cleanness surround and so cold, freezing, icy. And light. No darkness for him. Light. Be blind, blinded by light and see everything. Witness, notice, observe your self from there. From somewhere far, high, deep see everything and cry. Path with no grace. In disgrace be hurt, scream, die. Strength was everything he had. That was how he survived, fought, ran and came back every time. And now again strength, that inhuman, unreal, alien strength carried him from the light of the coming day into the shadows of the hole, the hole that was hidden behind cheap curtains and thin doors, which already once had not protected him from bullets and pain. But there was no other hole in town. So he lied there looking at the swirling ventilator on the dirty ceiling, bleeding, waiting for the moment when his so strong body would give up finally and let him rest. But Death was so proud. She did not want to come to this hole where dust was dancing in the pale black and orange air. But he was waiting and hoping and thinking. What was it that made him constantly come back into this city? What was it every time? He was back again and again fighting in the war that he had already learned would never bring him neither power nor money, or glory or simply death. But Alex returned every time because somewhere in the center of it all was He. Fox had to be protected and saved. Fox needed help. And Alex came back every time. And now it was over because he was dying. It was over because he did not want to live. It was over because nobody would help. He was waiting for so long, for eternity it seemed. Now Death was closer. She was coming and there was no escape. No hospitals. No help. Death was coming. But who will help Fox if he dies? Death made another step. He had to fight because there was nobody to help Fox. Death was behind the door. Fox was alone. "No, please, stop. Let me live. For him. I just want to help him one more time and then I shall go with you. Please one more time". Death was in front of him. Beautiful and kind. "No! Please!" The air was still pale black and orange, but fresh wind instead of dust was dancing around, the wind from the opened windows behind expensive curtains. There was silence and the smell of coffee. Silence and smell of coffee like in his childhood. Fresh wind from the sea like in his dreams from the past. Cream blue walls like in his room from a time so long ago. Warmth mixed with cool cleanness, like in his previous, long gone life. He loved Death. She had brought him home. He closed his eyes again. Not sleeping, just lying with closed eyes, dreaming. Sound in silence, quiet and soft, presence in the room, gentle whisper and hand on his forehead. Another whisper and lips on his. His hand in somebody's. Somebody's breath. Whisper again. Forced by curiosity he opened his eyes but then closed them immediately. The pain was unbearable. He missed Fox so much that he saw him where he could not be. A whisper again. And gentle fingers stopped the tears. Then he heard the voice: "Alex?" He opened his eyes again. Fox was kneeling near the bed, holding his hand and smiling. His awakened body was suddenly shocked by pain and he cried out. Fox stopped smiling and said something, but strangely, Alex could not understand him. Then the face of Dana Scully appeared and she began doing something with his body. Pain had become stronger, but he didn't care. He smiled. He suddenly understood that he was alive. ***********The End********** Lissa Spring, 1999