'Amen'

by The Spike

October 2000

Disclaimer: Still Chris Carter's, still not mine. I do this for love, not money

and I do appreciate the rich mythological soil of the X-Files universe

Spoilers: Possibly. If my guesses are lucky. Inspired by vague and likely

unfounded rumours that Alex Krycek will actually appear in the X-Files this

season.

Summary: A posited 7th season Alex muses on his new place in the universe

Warning: Spike made this, ergo dark and blasphemous est. Run away, run away...

______________________

Marita is a whore but she's still a good fuck. What makes her good is all that

mad. A nice double-edged sword that Alex likes to think on. What makes Marita

mad: Losing... oh, definitely that. And remembering.

All he has to do is lick her shiny new teeth and she has to bite him. It's good

-- she draws blood and he likes that, the sharp nip of teeth like a sharp little

kiss. A sincere little kiss, 'cause he knows she means it. Little things like

that mean a lot to him now.

Now that he rules the world. Sits in the old man's chair. Or puts his feet

on it anyway. Empty gesture. For now. He grins. Couple of months they tell

him and the nanocytes will have rebuilt the twisted and broken flesh he salvaged

from the foot of the stairs. Then he can rest his boots on the real thing.

Like he was going to let the old fuck have his nice, almost-as-good-as peaceful

death. He likes to think of the old man in the tank, growing and drowning in

green goop. Likes to imagine that he's conscious. That he knows. All that

brain activity -- the scientists can't tell him otherwise.

Jeffrey can. Jeffrey says he never dreamed, never knew he was still alive until

the moment Alex thumbed the goop out of his eyes and welcomed him back to the

world. But then again, Jeffrey's prone to telling lies. Secretive bastard.

Looks at him all sly and smug through his lashes like he's watching Alex die

instead of come. Well, okay. Give him that. Or maybe don't.. Maybe better

watch his ass because maybe the nanocytes are building their own monsters inside

the ones they make for him. Better check on that.

And check on this. And check on the other...

The undead remnants of the Consortium. The Aliens. The Rebels. Little

disappearing boys who read minds. Bigger disappearing monsters with nasty,

pointy teeth. Kind, disappearing strangers who heal the dead. Misplaced

fetuses. Vampires in California. The Walk-ins, the walk outs. Signs and

wonders. Miracles and revelations. Gypsies, tramps and thieves...

The stuff closer to home:

A.D. Skinner, forgetting again that he's not allowed to make up for his latest

sins.

Mother St. Scully and The Brood.

Mulder in the sky. With diamonds.

Mother*fuck*.

And six billion sorry souls marching blindly and with determination down into

the tar pits. Entirely deserved. And even so...

The most important part of being God, Alex has found, isn't the big life/ death/

good/ evil/ heaven/ hell/ sinner/ saint stuff at all -- it's sitting at his desk

all day and watching every fucking sparrow fall. All things bright, beautiful

and otherwise. Amazing grace and holy shit -- God *is* in the details. And he

loves the dirty feel of all that God stuff in his head. It makes him want to

spin his chair around and around and whoop and giggle...

Maybe...tomorrow.

The intercom buzzes and even Alex is impressed by the way he doesn't jump, the

way he already almost knew. The way he's been fitting this bigness around him,

breaking it in to his shape like a handmade leather glove.

"Send her in," he says before his secretary even speaks. Grinning when he sees

the set of Marita's jaw, the cornflower-in-liquid-nitro frost in her eyes as she

stalks into the room. She had her chance to be his equal once, she let it slip

somehow. Forgot to keep her eye on the ball. Or the sparrow. And now

everytime she sees him... Losing and remembering, both. It's always good.

And Alex wonders if it would be pushing it to make her kiss his ring before she

kneels. Metaphorically of course.

(Or maybe not. Those teeth of hers just *gleam* today.)

And actually, it's somehow even better to realize that either way is fine. Just

fine.

For he is the kingdom, the power and glory. Forever and ever...

oh, yeah...

(end)