Still Waters Run Deep by bugs

RATING: R, language, violence
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
CONTENT WARNING: Character death: This is one of those odd little
stories authors seem compelled to write occasionally.
SPOILERS: 'Existence'
SUMMARY: Revenge is a bitter pill.
ARCHIVE: You want it, take it, it's yours.
THANKS: To Ambress and Branwell, for their usual help. And to
Deslea for inspiring the tale.

*******

You stare down at the sweating ox. The sheen on his thick skin
reflects the wan light, flickering in time to his labored
breathing. His great muscles strain to resist your torture, but he
can't fight his own blood's betrayal.

"What did he say?" you demand.

The beast gasps, "Fuck you."

A step closer will be safe. The Palm Pilot's steel case is still
cool in your white grasp.

"Tell me."

He falls, rolling onto his back. You caught him, unguarded, coming
from the shower. At first he'd dropped his hands to cover his
genitals. Now he doesn't care and you can let your gaze wander
over his thick, blunt-edged form. It shakes and ripples with agony
and you're glad. The truth is in there.

"Do you want to die?" you ask.

Through blue lips, he says, "You think he said, 'Tell Marita I
love her'? He didn't."

A fine thumbnail manipulates the cursor...he roars, suddenly, and
you can feel the heat from his tortured lungs.

He eventually calms, and his heaving respiration is the only sound
in the room. Saliva trickles from the corner of his mouth.

"Walter, what were his last words?"

He gasps, gathering strength. "Bullshit, as usual. About how we
were on the wrong track. How Mulder must die. B.S. He was going to
kill Mulder. I had to stop him."

You've guessed right. Mulder had the good soldier do his dirty
work for him. "How did it happen?"

He manages to push himself to kneeling, supported by quivering
biceps. The hair across his back is matted with perspiration. He
is nothing more than an animal. Alex had been so much more. This
creature knows the truth. You can tell. But like any dog, he must
be kicked until he relents.

Belligerent even at the abyss' edge: "He tried to kill Mulder. I
shot him. You gonna to kill me for self-defense?" He collapses
from his effort. You step back. Wouldn't do for any body fluids to
stain your pumps. Over six hundred dollars, after all.

"He wanted to help you. You killed him to stop him from getting
the rewards he deserves."

He gurgles a laugh. "Fuck, Marita. What dope do you smoke? What
reward? The choice of being assassinated by you or my own
government?"

Rolling onto his side, he makes eye contact and holds it. "Why are
you here?" Now his gaze checks you over. "Your pimps are dead.
What do you care? Duty? Loyalty? To the most unloyal men who ever
lived?"

For that, he gets another level, but his now limp body hardly
reacts.

"You don't understand."

"I guess not." His head comes to rest on the darkened carpet.
"Love makes women do crazy things."

Repeat, "You don't understand," then, "Where's the body?"

"Going to give him a funeral with full honors, are you?"

He's near death. His words were hardly a whisper. You must hurry.
"Where."

"Where...belongs. Rotting at bottom...dumpster...parking garage.
Make it quick. Picked up...morning."

You contemplate the gray screen, weighing your options.

He mutters on, "Garbage. Garbage--"

You're merciful, and it's as painless as it can be.

*

The streets are nearly empty. You drive through waves of refracted
streetlights, slipping along a silent early morn. Finally, you
pull over, turn off the car engine and lean back, flipping down
the visor to reveal the mirror.

"Why are we doing this?" you ask.

You are as confused as that human Skinner was. I wash through your
body, and your eyelids droop shut. I give energy, take it, fuel
hate and love. You need no master. I saturate you with intent and
purpose. You carry me towards our goals. You are me and I am you.

Dawn rises. Your eyes open, and blink against the burn.

An enemy is dead and you live. That's all you need to know. We'll
retrieve the remains of our Other, and work will continue.

 

**The End**

Author's Notes: All those drifting loose plot threads of the past
two seasons annoy me. One was Marita's oil possession, which just
went away. Or did it? *cackling maniacal laughter* ...uh, okay,
I'll stop this now.

If you found this of interest, let me know: bugsfic@yahoo.com

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