As One Shuts An Open Door...

May Wind
By Sarah Teasdale

I said, "I have shut my heart
As one shuts an open door,
That Love may starve therein
And trouble me no more."

But over the roofs there came
The wet new wind of May,
And a tune blew up from the curb
Where the street-pianos play.

My room was white with the sun
And Love cried out in me,
"I am strong, I will break your heart
Unless you set me free."

Krycek found Mulder on the roof of the J. Edgar Hoover building, as far away from his basement cubbyhole as he could get. He paused just outside the roof exit, looking at the FBI agent.

Mulder was at the low wall that ran around the roof's perimiter. He wasn't exactly LEANING on it; he had better sense than that. One didn't lean over a great drop, in a lonely place, when one was as paranoid as Mulder. No, he was just resting his hands lightly on top of the wall.

Krycek moved up behind him quietly. Not stealthily. He wasn't trying to avoid detection, though he had no doubt that he COULD have. He could have had Mulder up and over the safety wall in a heartbeat, flying into eternity, if that was what he had wanted. It wasn't.

He didn't want to startle Mulder, or take him too abruptly out of whatever mood he was in. He'd only been partnered with the other man a couple of days, and so far he found observing Mulder fascinating, not at all the boring obligation he'd been expecting.

As he moved up beside Mulder, he was surprised to see that the other man's eyes were closed. His head was back slightly. A brisk, moist wind was blowing across the roof, pushing his heavy brown hair back from it's accustome drape across his forehead.

"They go on and on about April. No one ever seems to mention May, though." He didn't open his eyes, or make any sign that he'd known Krycek was there.

"What about May? April showers bring May floweres."

Mulder slitted hazel eyes at him disdainfully. "C'mon, Krycek. You can do better than that. I like nursery rhymes, too, but there are so many hundreds of other verses."

"Feeling poetic, are we?"

"It keeps me from wanting to strangle certain people."

"Look, I said I was sorry. You KNOW this assignment wasn't my choice, but I'm trying to make the best of it. This can work for us, if you give it a chance."

"It's nothing personal, Krycek. But SCULLY is my partner. I want her back."

"So you're not willing to even TRY?"

"Look, I learned my lesson with Dana. I'm never going to get attached to a partner again. I can't stand... I'm pissed, okay? It just isn't worth the effort."

"I said I have shut my heart, as one shuts an open door, that Love may starve therein, and trouble me no more."

Mulder stared at him. At last he said, "Huh. Sarah Teasdale, Krycek?" He seemed to think. "Not... the same thing."

"No? It isn't abnormal to love a partner. You and Scully relied on each other, trusted each other. Cared for each other. It's not so far from love. You need someone to trust and rely on. To care for, and to care for you. She's gone, Mulder. I'm here."

"She's not GONE. She's down in the autopsy lab."

Krycek sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Willfully obtuse. You can't let this break you, Mulder. You have to keep going. Form new attachments."

"I don't WANT new attachments." Another gust of wind passed over the roof. Fox watched as Krycek's green eyes squinted slightly against the fine grit that had been whipped up. Krycek lazily brushed one long fingered, well molded hand down his own sleeves, his chest... Mulder looked away... and didn't see Krycek smile as he saw Mulder's nervousness. Alex Krycek had discovered very early on that he made Mulder edgy in a way the FBI agent didn't understand. Krycek intened to make the reasons clear to him... soon.

Mulder once again turned his face into the breeze. "Your poem may have squat to do with my situation, but it IS more appropritate for today than that month thing. But over the roofs there came, the wet new winds of May. And a tune blew up from the curb, where the street pianos play."

There was a pause. "What about the rest of it?"

Mulder shrugged. "No more appropriate than the first verse."

"My room was white with the sun, and love cried out in me..."

Mulder's face darkened. "I told you, Krycek! It's not the same thing."

"You know, you're going to just keep on being miserable until you admit that you need someone..."

Mulder grabbed him suddenly by the suit front and shook him, his expression fierce. "I don't need ANYONE! Get that through your head, Krycek. Especially YOU. I don't need you, and I don't WANT you. So just stay the fuck out of my way!"

He released the dark haired man with a little shove, turned, and stalked back to the door that led back into the building. Krycek watched him go, a tiny smile curving his full lips. He whispered, "Denial, denial, denail, Fox."

Then he went to the edge of the roof, and turned his face into the breeze, as Mulder had. He felt the moist air move against his cheeks, cooling somewhat the fever that always seemed to arise when Fox Mulder put his hands on him. Again he whispered. "Denial."

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "I am strong. I will break your heart, unless you set me free..."