Summary: Mare, Alex, life, and 'death'. Post Existence. Skamperfic. PG13.

TITLE: Hate You Then I Love You
AUTHOR: Bobbi AmericanPadme@aol.com
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me. Interpretations and ideas are
mine.
RATING: Um... PG-13 for language an' other stuff.
SUMMARY: Mare, Alex, life, and 'death'.
KEYWORDS: Marita, Krycek, post-ep, MKR, Skamperfic.
SPOILERS: Existence
ARCHIVE: Other than Gossamer and Ephemeral, ask.
FEEDBACK: Send to AmericanPadme@aol.com.
THANKS: To Sasha. Chess forever! You realize what you've gotten me
into, don't you? Now, one of these days, I expect you to teach me
how to play!

___________________________________________________________________


She wonders, quite often actually, whether he's in Heaven or Hell.
She definitely can't see him as an angel. She can, however, see him
battling the devil for his reign in Hell. She smirks at the
thought. Whether the land of the damned and the grassy, sunny field
of the heroes do indeed exist, or if it is just a product of our own
human yearning for something more than this mortal life, she's not
sure. She'd like to think there's something beyond... wouldn't we
all, really?

Mare remembers him - she's memorized his scent, his face, the way he
gently scolds her when he's tired of her teasing and wants to cut to
the chase and get the good stuff. And, if she tries hard enough,
sometimes she can still feel him.

She hates him for leaving her here - for dying on her. She really,
truly does. She knows perfectly well he never intended it, but she
still hates him for it. Or maybe she loves him for it. Oh, fucking
damn it. In Mare and Alex's book, love and hate have practically
become synonyms, contradictory, in actuality, as they may be. The
thin line between the two has dissolved: they always use the words
so interchangeably to refer to their affections, and, at times, utter
hatred, of each other, that sometimes when they're fucking, Mare
slips and says, "I hate you, Alex," instead of "I love you."

She wonders why she still thinks of him in the present tense. Maybe
it's denial. Most likely, it's denial. She doesn't want him to be
dead, can't believe he's dead: that's why she keeps waiting for him
to walk back through her door again, tell her it's all some kind of
joke, that he's gotten her *badly* this time, and smirk at her and
laugh shortly before saying, "Let's fuck, Mare." She would try to
resist him, as she always did - she loved playing hard to get. But,
in the end, he'd win. He always did.

Mare and Alex really just hurt each other and then do it again,
although they've gotten so used to it, it could be termed an everyday
occurrence for them. She doesn't mind when he hurts her. She used
to, but she was quickly forced to get over that. Because, when he
hurts her, she feels alive. But he's gone again. Forever, she
thinks, this time. She can see him, smirking at her, in Heaven or
Hell: looking down, or up at her, and thinking: "Mare, I got you
again."

And certainly enough, he had. But - to be had was to have never
again.

She remembers a late-night conversation that now seems eons ago.

"Alex... go fuck the red Speedo boy. You *know* you want to."

He'd smirked at her shortly before he'd burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" she'd asked.
"You, Mare," he'd responded, that damned smile still on his
face. "I've seen him in a Speedo, yes, but I have to say, I wasn't
impressed - "
"You can't deceive me - at least not about this. I see how you look
at him."
"Mare, if I didn't know you better, I could swear you were jealous."

His eyes had been teasing her - daring her - to take this any
further. To take him on.

"No," she'd said, her expression growing serious. "I'm sure we can
find more attractive men in Speedos, though - "
"Mare," he'd said, taking her hand in his, "I'll never leave you.
Don't you know that?"
"Fucking liar," she'd called him.

It hadn't escalated into an argument, it'd just been the usual
bantering. Maybe though, just maybe - there was a shade of truth in
that.

She drifts off to a light sleep. Serene and peaceful, but not really
at rest. She hasn't rested - since that night -

Mare's gonna damn him. No wait, Mare's gonna kill him. No, Mare's
gonna kill him and *then* damn him, he realizes as he punches the
numerical code into the security system at the front of her estate,
and the gates swing open.

He's been gone for too long this time, and she's probably received
word of his death, just like the others, he's sure - what if she
won't take him back this time? Maybe he would be better off dead and
damned. Life would be so much easier if he was just a Chess player,
and Mare, some glamorous model - which he can definitely see her as.
It's just... fitting. Much more fitting than where they've both
ended up in life.

He doesn't even bother to knock. Doesn't want to wake her, even
though he realizes she's probably not sleeping, if he knows her at
all. He picks the lock easily and steps in, easily making his way
back to Mare's bedroom, even in the dark. She *is* asleep, after
all. And she's talking to herself.

"I'm sure we can find you... more attractive men in Speedos."

He smirks and lays down beside her on the bed, his arm encircling her
waist.

"Mare, I had you. I got you fucking *bad* this time..."

A small smile creeps across her face as she sleeps, and he wonders if
she's dreaming that his arms are around her, that he's whispering
this to her now. Kissing her lightly, he stays there beside her.

He briefly wonders why her name is still sweet on his lips. He
wonders why sex with Mare is so appealing, considering how many times
they've screwed each other over, how many times he seriously thought
about killing her.

Alex Krycek is simply just simply an obstinate little boy doing
something he knows he shouldn't be, all over again: and living off
the high and enjoyment from that. Mare, he told himself, was just
along for the ride. And possibly, probably... no, in all likelihood,
actually... along for the cheap, quick lay on the side. That was his
Mare.

-end-

*fin*