Peace On Earth
by Krysia Korsakova
Spoilers: Basic Alex Krycek spoilers
Rated: T for language, with a warning for bitterness
Pairing: Vignette. M/K, but I must wear my M/K badge with a difference. Will you stop paraphrasing Hamlet? Just bc I killed you, Nico, is no reason to lose your temper.
Disclaimer:Trust me, they don't want my Krycek. And Mulder's always whining.
Author's Notes: This first appeared in Leather and Armani zine. Perhaps it should have stayed there. You judge.
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Mulder (somehow I think you'd be less than appreciative if I called you dear),
Soon now I will die. Not a great loss perhaps, Mulder, though I would like to think I meant even a little to you. Am I deluding myself? If I had never become tainted with the oil of long-held secrets, would we be together still? Did I break your heart as I broke mine in the leaving?
You condemned me for betraying you. What else was I supposed to do? I'm chorni, Mulder, not of pure Russian blood - though to an Americyenski like yourself, I am Russian enough to hate.
You don't know what chorni means? Well, Mulder, it means having to put up with the racial jokes and the promotions over your head. And I was frustrated; no, I was angry. I was furious that I, a loyal Communist and brilliant officer of the KGB, should be so reviled. And then I was offered a position of responsibility, a position only I could fill. How could I refuse? I leapt at the chance to prove myself.
In April of 1991, I entered America as a college graduate, supposedly having completed a degree in Russian at the University of Kent. Admittedly, that was only for public consumption. The people I was supposed to meet knew who and what I really was. They arranged for me to join the USS. Yes, for a while there, the President was being protected by a KGB spy. And you thought that smoking bastard didn't have a sense of humour!
I gave my superiors low-level information. Even in that time of glasnost, it paid to know what you were thinking and, as I have said, I was a loyal Communist. That August, as I'm sure you remember, there was an attempted coup in Russia. To what extent I was involved, I'll let you guess.
But that was the end of my career in the KGB. They were split into two separate organisations, and there was no room for me. Which was when your friend turned up with an offer I couldn't refuse. Or, at least, one I couldn't refuse without spending most of the rest of my life as a guest in one of your prisons. Not to mention the fact that he knew about my part in the coup.
Besides, it wasn't like he was asking me to betray my country. Just to be part of an international concern working to protect global interests. My part seemed simple enough. All I had to do was apply to the FBI.
After graduating and proving myself - Spender's certainly not lacking in intelligence - Alex Krycek was assigned to watch you. A walkover for someone of my talents, right? Wrong - just about as wrong as can be. See, I broke the cardinal rule of the Great Game I got involved. I fell in love with you, Mulder.
One more thing to hold over my head. Oh, he had me well and truly trapped! Even though Russia was a democracy by that time, I wasn't exactly going to get a welcome reception if he sent me back. So I went right on betraying you and hating myself. I smashed every mirror I owned because I couldn't bear to look at my reflection. To look at smashed innocence and shattered dreams.
Yes, I was innocent. Prior to Augustus Cole, I had only ever killed one man. That was more an accident than anything else. He was drunk and attacked me, I hit him and he fell on his own knife. Of course, I've killed many since. It's not a good reason, is it? I'm sorry, your son died because I didn't dare refuse.
Anyway, that's the sordid little story of how I came to be what I am. But am I really so bad? Aren't you a coward too? You don't fight them either - not when it really matters. You won't stand up for what you believe in, and say Fuck you all, this is my belief and I'm not going to sacrifice my ideals for you. You never did that, Mulder, not when it mattered. You never even asked, you just went right on ahead and assumed the worst.
I would have done anything for you, Mulder, even defied him. For our love, I would have given up the world. But you never even asked for my side. I loved you, Mulder, and I thought you loved me. That's what you said the night I took you home anyway. Were you lying?
We just kissed that night, sprawled nervously on your couch, lit by the late-night boxing. I wanted to go further, evidence of that tenting my trousers, but I wasn't really sure what 'further' was. It was my first time with a man; yours too, I think.
One kiss. I can still remember every detail. Your lips against mine, roughened by thirst, your tongue running bolts of electrical desire through my brain, the salt sweet tang of sunflower seeds. Arching against you, desperately trying to maintain that magical contact between our groins. Both of us rubbing our bodies together like teenagers, hungry for the stroke of flesh on flesh, denied us only by the wool of suits. Friction taking us higher together, the climb agonising in its ecstasy, and then the long comatose glide down. You fell asleep with your head on my shoulder. I lay there for a long time and I didn't cry, although I felt maybe I should. It is right to show grief at a funeral after all.
You used to tease me for not drinking alcohol, do you remember? I'm not very devout, but I was born a Muslim, Mulder. And now I've come to the point of this letter. As I said at the beginning, I will soon die. It's Christmas Day and they're shelling us, the Russians are shelling us. I'm sheltering in a cellar in Grozny with my family, and when I have finished writing, I will go out to fight.
I believe in Chechnya, Mulder, and, although I was born a Soviet citizen and Communist, am a Chechen first and foremost. Democracy in Russia bought destruction for my country and now I will fight to preserve her. Like you, I have never stood and fought for my beliefs. Until now, that is. You see, the whole world is in danger; have no doubt about that. And, for a while, I was trying to save it. Well, you can do that if you have the courage to fight for once; I've had done. I don't like the world at the moment, since it seems content to sit and watch while my country is obliterated. So I'm going to fight for my country and no one else. I will fight beside my fellow countrymen with guns. And when we run out of guns, with rocks and the ruin of our city. And when there are no more rocks, withbare fists and the force of our rage and hatred for those who have destroyed our way of life.
We lived in Moscow when I was younger. I loved the winter because they flood Gorky Park. It freezes over and is used as a skating rink by the Muscovites. I always took my sisters there, every Christmas Eve, until 1989. That year, there was a twelve-year-old boy stabbed to death in front of us, for no other crime than being a Jew. After that, we didn't go skating on Christmas Eve. Why are we so full of hate, Mulder?
But I must go. They have come to try and take Lejla away from Grozny; she will carry my letter and post it if she is able. I had three sisters in 1994, you know. Then the Russians bombed this city and now I have one. You're not the only one to lose a sister, you know.
And praises sing to God the King,
And peace to men on earth.
Season's greetings
Aslan Koslayev
P.S. I love you.
End
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