Cold

The magazines in the doctor's waiting area were out of date and consisted primarily of well thumbed People magazines and Reader's Digest. Walter eased his weight from one hip to the other in the small chair, which had been maliciously designed for maximum discomfort. It had been a full minute since he last tried to get comfortable. It was a lost cause, but the room was too small and crowded to get up and stretch his legs. There were no windows to look out onto the grayness of a Washington day, on which he could contemplate the state of his unease.

He was trapped in a suffocating room with a group of sick and infectious strangers with mind-numbingly dull reading material, a chair the Bureau's interrogation personnel should put on requisition and an african violet that looked in desperate need of the nearest botanical emergency room.

He practiced keeping his face as placidly noncommittal as was humanly possible and decided the battle between his posterior and the chair was a personal one that he was determined to win. He was damned if an inanimate object would get the better of his composure.

The middle-aged woman sitting to his left looked up from her People magazine with a very buxom Angelina Jolie on the cover and gave him a Mona Lisa smile that he didn't return. She resumed her reading and Walter's eyes slid to his right.

The man sitting against the wall was engrossed in his own reading. There was a rather dusty, artificial ficus tree pushed into the corner near the man's chair. Walter was in the act of turning his head when he caught the hint of something in his peripheral vision. It was a dark shadow in a vaguely human shape, seeming to merge with the darkness under the tree, but like all things seen in this way he couldn't be sure precisely.

He reached up and let the pads of his fingers drift lightly over the wound on his head. It was still very sensitive to the touch even days after the initial trauma. The exact moment of its occurrence had faded into the fuzzy haze of memory loss after such incidents. It was only a few seconds that were gone and he was not sorry for their loss.

He only wished, desperately wished, there were other moments in his life which could be erased so easily. The feel of a gun's recoil in his hand when the third bullet left the weapon. The death of his last hope.

He had no wish to relive the moment when the creature wearing Billy Miles' likeness crashed its hand through the elevator door and against his head. The last sensation he had before the attack was of Alex Krycek standing beside him in the elevator. The sheer force of Walter's anger at the man had propelled him down the hallway. At the time it was almost more of a compelling force than the need for self preservation he felt to avoid the rampaging alien presence.

Alex's face filled his vision in that last moment. The man had a phenomenal ability to raise Walter's blood pressure to dangerous levels with the slightest quirk of his lips. He didn't require the nanobotes to accomplish that. Impulsive violence had been Walter's response of choice, but not always, most especially not in the beginning, when the quirk of the lips had been offset with eyes that were boyish bright and full of temptation.

Odd, that. It was truly remarkable how much pain a human being could bear and not die of it.

Walter pressed his fingertips into the bruised flesh, perversely relishing the dull pain like a throbbing toothache, letting it eat into him in a way that was almost pleasurable. The visit to the doctor was a routine checkup. Everything was progressing as expected, no complications.

Except.

The dark figure flitted once again just at the edge of his vision, in that narrow range that existed at the mercy of a blink of an eye. Perhaps there were complications after all. Pressure on the optic nerve. He felt strangely disassociated from the possibility. Close in retrospect to the out of body experience in 'Nam and the second death he had experienced at Alex's hands. It seemed oddly fitting he should be seeing ghosts, as he was practically on speaking terms with them now.

He had touched the other side, those long years ago, just a wish away from eternity. Maybe the experience had left its residue in some spiritually enhanced manner. A lifting of the earthly veil from his eyes. But if that were so then he should have had some hint of it before now. Surely.

He turned his head away from that corner the shadow seemed to inhabit and was greeted once again with the woman's regard. She only gave him that same smile and paired it with a nod and a lowering of her magazine as if she were about to speak. He had no desire to engage her in conversation and lowered his head and shifted once again to face the other way.

It seemed inevitable the way his eyes locked onto the figure crouching under the plastic leaves. It was darkness. Not a shadow at all. A shadow suggested the insubstantial. There was movement within the darkness, like stars flickering in the depths of space and cold wrapped around him from the inside out. The figure shifted and flowed and formed itself into the shape of a man standing.

Walter wanted to tell the man sitting there so close, calmly reading his book, to move the hell away, couldn't he see the abomination standing so terribly near, but no words came. They were gone, lost with his hearing in the blood rush sound filling his ears.

The darkness broke apart, brittle shards full of twinkling stars that gathered themselves around the edges of his vision, blocking out the room little by little as his sight narrowed to a tunnel that became filled with light cold as hell.

His senses came into full focus to show him that he was standing in a circular room filled with light drenched in a shimmer of glacial blue. The breath left his body in puffs of foggy warmth. He felt the breeze from the open windows, in all directions, icy cold and dry as bones. There was sky through the windows or what appeared to be sky. It was the same quality of light which filled the room. He stood in the center and pivoted around watching the windows pass his view, a string of opals. Upon his return to his starting point he discovered Alex Krycek standing in the room like a totem to an ancient, dark god.

He was only a few feet away, easily close enough to see the man's eyes, frozen lakes in the pit of hell. The brittleness of frost clung to the black, leather jacket, crinkling into little flakes as an arm was raised, reaching out, drawing ever closer.

Walter could not breathe or move or form a thought because the darkness was filling the edges of his vision with sparkling stars and whispers echoed in his ears on the wings of bees.

He thought he heard the words, "Walter, I swear..."

He opened his eyes and saw the ceiling, low and familiar, blessedly common. He rolled his head to the side and heard not the wings of bees but the crinkling of paper which covered the examination table he lay upon. He breathed deeply and there was no unearthly cold, only the coolness of vented air.

A female face, also familiar, appeared above him, gazing down with some concern. His doctor, who examined him and had no answers to any questions that Walter really wanted answered. More tests were ordered and more assurances were made. Things were progressing nicely. There was no need to be alarmed. Stress was the culprit. Had Walter seen the counselor? Well, then a good diet along with meditation and breathing exercises were recommended.

The doctor washed her hands and left the room. Walter dressed and waited while the doctor's assistant brought in the free samples of drugs he was to try; he had forgotten why. He listened to instructions that he couldn't hold onto. When she was finished he carried the small, plastic bag of drugs with him, along with a heavy mantle of regret and loss, but those he had paid a heavy price to acquire.

As he passed through the waiting room he did not look too closely into the corner where the shadows gathered.

He arrived home, hours later, tired in mind and body and yearning for sleep or perhaps just oblivion. He dropped the briefcase on the couch and stood there, loosening his tie. He almost wanted a drink, but probably shouldn't, not while taking meds.

He made his way up the stairs lit only with the glow from the night light and paused to adjust the thermostat. He normally kept it cooler in his sleeping area, but not tonight. Tonight he wanted warmth and blankets. First, there was a hot shower. He filled the bathroom with steam, rolling his neck, easing muscles there and in his shoulders, letting the water wash the surface cold away. He let himself believe the warmth made its way into the frozen center of his being.

At last he sank into his bed, the clean, crispness of expensive sheets cooled the naked skin of his back. He sighed and closed his eyes and let the heaviness of his aching head sink fully into the pillow and into sleep.

Naked skin, hot beneath his hands and in his arms, the male body pressed in the fullness of its natural heat against the length of his own. The sole of his foot caressed a sharp ankle bone then moved over a high arch and pressed the toes into the bed's softness. He felt such tenderness for those damned little toes. He reached down, his hand grasping the back of a knee, bringing the long length of leg to wrap around his waist.

He cupped his hands on either side of a head with short, soft hair, cradling it, and kissed the lips that finally, finally warmed the frozen center of his being.

What there ever was of joy in his life he found in that kiss. He felt blessed and sanctified and full of possibility.

It was the possibility which pulled the words out of him in hushed tones, just a whisper of promise sliding against wet lips, "Alex, I swear...".

Walter allowed Mulder to ask the questions of Jeremiah. They were simple questions requiring a simple answer from a man who was filled with complications. They wanted to know where Alex Krycek's body had disappeared. It had, in fact, been missing for days. The security cameras set up in the morgue all showed a dark presence in the shape of a man, but the outline of the form was blurred as if it had been smudged with an eraser along its edges. This presence left the morgue, walked down the hallways and entered the elevator. There was absolutely no trace left of it or of Alex Krycek's body and no amount of computer enhancements had given a better look at this apparition. In fact it was an exercise in self-control for human eyes to look closely at the face of the presence as it walked towards the camera.

"Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wizards, to be defiled by them: I am the Lord your God." Jeremiah added, "Leviticus 19:31."

Mulder stood in silent concentration, lips pursed, hands resting on hips. Jeremiah's face reflected Buddha's own serenity with a quiet madness happily living in his eyes. They would find no answers here.

Walter knew it had been a slim chance that Jeremiah could give them any answers, but they had traveled all the official paths and were working their way down the unofficial ones. He turned his back on the two men and left the room. He couldn't get the image of that dark presence which had been captured on film out of his mind. It haunted him.

He still felt the shock of recognition when he had first been shown the video. It was the same presence he had seen and felt in his doctor's waiting room. There was no mistaking it.

There were only so many man hours they could justify in devoting to this. It was not, of course, his case to oversee or Mulder's to investigate. Another mystery to add to an already long list.

Mulder stepped out of the room and regarded him with a look that Walter was growing to hate. Mulder was concerned, but he hadn't said anything yet, not directly. Walter didn't want his concern. It only made it harder to deny his own worries about the state of his mind.

Walter pushed his cart down aisle number three of his local grocery and decided the cholesterol levels could go to hell and threw in the package of pepperoni for a homemade pizza. He looked up and something low and very fast moved across the opening at the far end of the aisle. The store was well lit; there was no mistaking something had been there.

He left the cart and moved toward the end of the aisle. He could see past the checkout counters to the large windows at the front of the building. It was well past dark and just beginning to rain. He could hear it hitting the roof of the building over the store's background music. There were no startled screams from shoppers or employees.

At the end of the aisle, he looked in the direction he had seen the shape disappear. There was something moving around the large bin of apples in the fresh produce section, low to the ground and he could have sworn it looked like an animal's tail, a bushy one, as it disappeared from view. He breathed a sigh of relief. Someone's pet dog must have gotten loose and followed its owner into the store or maybe just a stray. He felt himself shake a bit from the reaction to the adrenaline rush and had to admit to himself just how seriously the incident had affected him.

He should let one of the store's employees know they had a dog running loose in the store. All of the checkers were busy with customers as he made his way toward the area where he had last seen the animal. The store seemed to keep their fresh produce area colder than he remembered it ever being. If they kept this up the misting system was going to be freezing the vegetables in a sheet of ice.

He reached the apple bin and looked around. There were other bins loaded with potatoes and onions and plenty of other displays for the animal to hide behind. His stomach growled in protest at the delay in dinner and he thought longingly of his pepperoni. The imagined aroma of the pizza as it cooked whetted his appetite even further. Damn the dog.

It was still raining as he left the store with his plastic sack in hand and a growing headache. He had finally gotten the attention of an employee and they had checked the store only to find nothing. The damn kid had looked at him as if he were senile. When had he lost his composure so completely that a kid's regard would make him grit his teeth and want to shove his fist through the nearest wall. He couldn't get out of the store fast enough.

The asphalt was black and slick with rain and eerily pretty with the city's lights. He turned the car radio off and enjoyed the thunk, swish, thunk of the windshield wipers. The warmth of the car and their rhythmic sound lulled him a bit and he found himself actually unwinding from the experience in the store. He was imagining arriving home and what he would do after dinner when the dog appeared in his headlights.

He slammed on the brakes and felt his heart slam into gear again. He stared at it through the rain and the thunk, swish, thunk of the wipers. It sat, staring straight at him, the full glare of the light enshrining the creature and giving its eyes the typical opaque glow of an animal's, reflecting back the glare of the headlights as it regarded him. They stared at each other for a long minute until the animal rose from its haunches and disappeared into the nearest alley.

Walter eased his foot off the brake and back onto the gas pedal and moved forward. He was suddenly cold again and increased the temperature setting on the heater. The dog hadn't looked like a dog at all. It had looked very much like a wolf, which was impossible. Perhaps it had been a half-breed of some sort. Someone's exotic pet on the prowl during a night of stolen freedom.

When he arrived home he placed the makings for his dinner into the refrigerator and instead retrieved his scotch.

Scully had started giving him the same considering looks as Mulder and he found he was just as irritated by them. There was no denying the fact he was loosing sleep as both his face and his temper reflected the condition. The case of Alex Krycek's missing body had been a harrowing experience from both an emotional and career perspective. The focus of the investigation had taken an unpleasant shift towards himself as the culprit, which was ridiculous. Of course there wasn't anything of an official nature said directly to him. There were just the usual rumors and innuendoes that when uttered by certain people were worrisome. There was no reason for him to dispose of the body as there had been no crime committed. He did what had to be done in order to save Mulder and Scully and the baby. He had no choice. Alex was a threat and relentless. He certainly knew that well enough from personal experience.

Of all people, Alex should understand that sometimes you just had to do what you had to do. The result justified the means. He had kept that in his mind as he pulled the trigger for the third time. This was for the benefit of everyone. There was no personal rage or sense of betrayal or anything whatsoever of his history with Alex that entered into his decision. He was a man, a soldier, put in an untenable situation and he had made his decision. He was prepared to pay the consequences. He had certainly shouldered enough demons since 'Nam to carry one more. He kept reminding himself of that repeatedly.

Scully's voice rose and he found he had completely lost track of what she was saying. Damn, he thought, now she was going to give him that look again. He got her out of his office as quickly as possible and went to stand at his window instead of sitting at his desk once again. He had been growing more and more restless. It was like being high on caffeine all the time or perhaps more like being juiced up before going on patrol in a hot area in 'Nam.

Alex had always understood his moods. It had been such a relief to share them with someone. It was one of many things he had been unable to share with Sharon, which had been his failing and not hers. Still, it had definitely been one of Alex's alluring attributes besides the obvious physical ones. The fact that Alex was younger hadn't lessened his empathy for Walter's experiences in the war. Alex had understood as if he had first hand knowledge of warfare himself.

In the beginning of their affair Alex's chameleon-like qualities had been intriguing. Naturally, there was an uneasiness about his young lover's abilities. There were sides to Alex that Walter knew he was not being shown and at the time he told himself he knew enough and what he had been shown was more than sufficient to keep him interested. He had been such a fool, an arrogant, middle-aged fool. Looking back on it now he could see it so easily and even knowing that Alex had betrayed them all he still couldn't stay away completely. The thought of those times and how low he had sunk made him cringe with embarrassment. Walter's pride was the least of what Alex had destroyed with his betrayal.

Alex arrived late and in an uneasy mood. Walter sat on his couch with one arm resting along its back and sipped his scotch as he watched his lover roam about his living room. Alex picked up various things, looked at them as he talked, not really taking them in, just needing something to hold and all the while Walter paid scant attention to what he said. He had learned to read Alex much more by his actions than any words that came out of his pretty mouth.

Walter had offered him a drink, which he'd accepted and then almost immediately put down. Finally, Walter had enough and sat his own drink aside and walked over to Alex, who stilled almost instantly as he watched Walter approach him. His body seemed to loosen in increments as Walter got closer and when their bodies were touching Walter simply gathered him in his arms. Alex sighed and rested his head against Walter's and wrapped his arms around his waist. Walter felt such tenderness in that moment he wanted it to last forever. They seldom had such moments between them.

Walter felt Alex's hands move casually along his back, slowly stroking him. He smiled at the gentle touch because he knew Alex would always deny having such tender feelings. Walter turned his head just enough to run his lips along the top of Alex's cheekbone, such arrogant, stubborn cheekbones. Walter felt so warm, filled with such pleasurable warmth, both from the scotch and from his lover.

He asked in a voice that was almost a whisper what was bothering Alex, who stiffened almost immediately and pulled away. Walter wanted to pull him back. The entire front of his body felt the absence of Alex's heat and he shivered from it, but Alex only shook his head and moved away. There was a look in his eyes that was beginning to concern Walter.

He asked again what was bothering Alex and this time he used a more professional tone, one that he was used to having obeyed. He should have known better. Alex only got a more stubborn look on his face and jutted his chin up a bit and denied anything was wrong. There was a glint of anger in his eyes and Walter sensed a growing escalation of it in Alex that he couldn't fathom or control.

And then Alex asked the most incredible question. It completely shocked Walter, floored him so much he thought he must look ridiculous standing there gaping at Alex. He asked Walter to leave with him, to finalize his separation from Sharon, to go somewhere they could live openly together, to build a new life, a fresh start. He asked it urgently and with a desperate undertone in his voice. Walter had never seen him like this before. His heart broke at the look on Alex's face. It was obvious he was trying to hold it together, desperation, incredible longing and a strange anger flitted across his features as Walter watched in numb silence. The longer the silence went on the more the anger grew in Alex's face and a look of hope died, slowly and with a great finality. Too late Walter realized that hope had been there all along, openly staring at him. Alex smiled and laughed and turned away with a bitterness in his eyes that Walter could almost taste.

Walter remained frozen, even while Alex fell into low cursing. Alex turned abruptly and started to walk by him towards the door, anger and shame pouring off him, his head bent, but Walter had seen his eyes. There was no way he could let someone he loved leave feeling that kind of pain and not do something about it.

Someone he loved.

This realization overwhelmed Walter so much he almost let Alex escape, but he managed to reach out and catch his arm in time to stop him from opening the door. Alex didn't take the contact well. The anger that had been building inside him finally found its catalyst and he swung at Walter's face. Alex was an excellent fighter, young and fit, but the anger made his swing more violent than well executed and Walter had been expecting it. Still, Alex managed to get in a blow to Walter's jaw that impacted enough to hurt both of them.

Their struggle was violent and short. It ended with Walter trapping Alex on the floor by the simple expedient of body weight and leverage and sheer determination. The strength of the emotions flowing out of Alex seemed to be draining him, compromising his efforts more than anything Walter actually did.

Walter kept talking to Alex, trying to get the man to listen to him and finally Alex calmed, his struggles ceasing completely. He lay on the floor gasping for air and Walter looked down on a face that was crumbling before his eyes. He couldn't bear it and he knew Alex couldn't bear him witnessing it. He gathered Alex to him and simply held him while Alex choked out sounds that were between sobs and simple groans of pain.

The painful sounds didn't last long and when Alex could manage to speak he whispered in a hoarse and wet voice that was boyishly earnest, "I wish I knew how to quit you."

Walter settled his overcoat onto his shoulders and wished his secretary a good night and a good holiday vacation. He was sincerely looking forward to his own. It had been a hell of a year. He was going as far away from Washington as he could possibly manage where there were no missing bodies of ex-lovers, darkly menacing apparitions or lost wolves. It wasn't a tremendous distance geographically, but he most definitely needed the distance emotionally, if that were possible to attain.

The small cabin he planned to stay in during the whole of his vacation time was in a scenic area that afforded enough isolation in which he could begin to recover his composure and yet was close enough to civilization he could go into town for a nice meal if he chose.

The plane trip itself was not too arduous. It actually gave him a chance to begin to unwind. It was all perfectly normal and ordinary. He desperately needed normal and ordinary. He let his mind focus on all the little tasks he needed to accomplish in order to arrive at his destination and concentrated on taking it one step at a time.

He had been irritated and yet grudgingly pleased when he had discovered a small pamphlet in the pocket of his overcoat extolling the glittering nightlife of the resort town close to his cabin. It had Mulder's fingerprints all over it. However, the only nightlife he envisioned was a quiet appreciation of the night sky from his cabin's porch.

When he arrived at the small resort town, he picked up his rented four-wheel drive vehicle and set out already almost a new man. It was amazing how clear and clean the air smelled already. It was very invigorating and his anticipation for his stay was growing. The area was beautiful, indeed. There was a light covering of snow in town, but the snow covered peaks of the mountains were glinting like a postcard in the sunlight.

Another thing which had buoyed his spirits somewhat had been the glint of appreciation he imagined he saw in the woman's eyes at the car rental desk. He was not so unaware of his own male pride not to feel the effects of her small flirtation. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in quite some time and he was surprised and amused at his own folly at the resulting spring in his step as he left the building.

The main road to the cabin was well traveled and maintained and he used it for most of the 30 minutes it took him to reach his destination. It wound up into the foothills of the mountains, which were mainly covered by an evergreen forest, especially as the altitude increased. He easily found the side road to the cabin and it was only a few minutes before he spotted it.

The term, nestled, fit it perfectly because it looked very much like a brown hen snuggled nicely in her nest. In this case it was a nest of snow and evergreens. He parked his vehicle by the side of the porch and unloaded. There wasn't much luggage. He had stopped in town to pick up a few groceries, but he thought the cabin should contain enough wood for heat and the other necessities of a comfortable stay.

When he entered he wasn't disappointed. It was indeed small, but efficient and once the fire was lit in the wood burning stove it soon filled the cabin with a cozy warmth. There was running water, modern plumbing and electricity supplied by a generator. He was well pleased. But, it was the outdoors which he was primarily interested in. He had had his fill of small spaces and office buildings and mountains of paper. He wanted to get a good look at mountains of another sort.

He stepped outside onto the porch wearing his new parka he had bought specifically for the trip and all the happy thoughts of moments before were wiped away in a flash of shock for there sitting in what was essentially his front yard was the wolf.

It was the same damn wolf, sitting in the same damn way it had sat on the street in the glare of his headlights. It was such a knowing look, such a human look from an animal's eyes. He knew he was being irrational. There was no way on earth it could be the same animal. Besides, wolfs ran in packs. This fellow must have others waiting for him nearby.

Walter scanned the surrounding forest searching with his eyes in the shadows under the trees for any hint of movement or any glint of lupine eyes, but there was nothing. He returned his gaze to the wolf. It opened its mouth in a huge yawn, showing fangs and a red tongue, and then rose from its haunches as if responding to some internal cue and trotted casually into the cover of the trees.

Walter secured his parka and hastily pulled on his gloves. There was a small internal voice telling him he was an incredible fool, but he felt himself on the edge of madness and if he didn't find some answers for this feeling he would indeed go crazy.

It wasn't difficult to follow the animal. There was enough snow on the ground to easily see its tracks, but not too much to make the going difficult. It was not an unpleasant day for a walk and if he hadn't been in such an agitated state of mind he would have enjoyed the experience. As it was he could only concentrate on not losing the wolf's trail for there was a growing sense of unease within him, a dark premonition. The further into the woods they traveled the denser the trees and the shadows beneath them began to resemble apparitions with a strangely human shape that whispered words at him he could not comprehend. He knew, rationally, that they were only shadows and the shush of snow laden branches in the wind, but still the feeling persisted.

After some ten minutes of walking he noticed the trees were beginning to thin out until there were no trees at all and he was standing on a ridge with a spectacular view down into the valley with the mountain range on either side of it. It was a very clear day and he could easily see for many miles. A large bird of some kind glided on the currents of air as they swept up the mountainside and he almost forgot about the wolf in watching the bird's easy flow across its massive blue backdrop.

There was a disturbance of rocks, some small stone shifting and he turned aside to find the wolf sitting beneath a large tree situated well away from the rest of the others, almost on the very crest of the ridge. It's evergreen boughs so dense that little snow had made its way beneath them. The wolf was resting in this bit of protection, it's tongue lolling lazily and regarding Walter as if to say that he had known the silly human would follow him here.

Walter had no idea what to do now. Indeed the very notion of dark apparitions seemed even more foolish now that he stood in the bright sun on what was obviously a very peaceful landscape. There seemed to be no lurking nightmares and the wolf seemed to be only what it was.

He sighed and shook his head and marveled at what a fool he had been to allow his imagination such a sway over his reason. He kept a careful eye on the wolf as he turned to make his way back toward his cabin, but the creature only regarded him with a note of supreme indifference. Walter made his way back to the cabin easily and without any further notes of other worldliness. There was a part of him which was vastly relieved, but a large part was terribly disappointed and he had no idea why.

That night he stood on the porch of his cabin, a hot mug of coffee laced with whiskey warming his hands and gazed up at the night sky. He seldom saw such a sight in the city and he couldn't quite stop his gazing and leave it for his bed. There was a sense of something waiting just outside his reach and the more he looked for it the further away it seemed to be, like a desert mirage.

The wolf howled in the distance.

He could tell from the direction of the sound that it was near to where he had left it earlier that day. The cry echoed all along the mountain range, such a mournful sound and lonely. There were no answering cries.

The solitude seeped into Walter and he hurried back inside and into bed. The walls of the cabin only muffled the wolf's cries and did not silence them completely. He lay in his bed and imagined it trotting along the ridge in the moonlight looking for its companions. It was his last thought as he fell asleep.

The next morning after breakfast he set out for his special place as he thought of it. Once again he had another beautiful day and an easy walk. When he arrived at the lone tree on the ridge he didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved to find the wolf nowhere in sight. There wasn't even a bird overhead, just the wind in the tops of the trees and the occasional plop of snow from an overladen branch.

He stood and admired the view for some minutes and when he turned his eye caught the glint of something in the snow, not far from the tree. The sunlight was striking a bit of glass or perhaps something metal. He walked over to it and bent to examine the object. It was partially buried in the snow and when he pulled it forth it became painfully and brutally clear in its familiarity. A plam. His thumb passed lightly over the base of it and it snicked viciously open.

He hissed at his carelessness. The sharp blade had sliced a cut into his hand and before he could stop the flow there were three drops which fell to earth. He was close enough to the tree that they fell onto the bare, frozen ground rather than into the snow. The shock of seeing such a thing here had made him clumsy and he felt such a revulsion for it he threw the weapon from him not caring where it landed.

The plam thudded into the trunk of the tree and seemed to vibrate there. Walter stood staring at it, feeling almost as if he had unintentionally wounded a person. He reached out to pull it forth and stopped before his hand quite reached it. There was movement just beneath the trees bark, a coalescing of shadows, growing quickly and inexorably until he could discern a human shape almost as tall as himself. He stepped back and watched transfixed and decided that he was through running. Whatever this thing was he was going to confront it and have done with it.

The human shape grew out of the tree as if the tree were giving birth to it. The roughness of the bark and its brown color were replaced by the familiar darkness he had encountered before, with the lights moving and shifting within its depths, but this time there was no feeling of dread. He realized it resembled the night sky he had been gazing at so recently more than anything else. There was a certain cold beauty to it.

As he watched it grow in detail, taking on more and more the shape of a man, he felt his apprehension slip away. What replaced it was perhaps a sense of rightness as if he were finally meeting his destiny and he was glad to have it over with, whatever the outcome.

A shifting in the branches overhead produced a drift of snow which coated the creature of night before him. It stood away from the tree now, entirely separate and the snow clung to it, giving it a mummified effect.

The wolf howled and the sound sliced through the air and through the snow encased creature with a cry so lonely that it physically hurt to hear it. Walter watched in amazement as the snow began to crack open, brittle shards of shadow and snow fell to the ground like melting icicles. What they revealed shocked Walter more than he thought possible.

The naked man fell to the ground at his feet and he could only stand staring down at Alex with a jumble of emotions, none of them with any sense of reality. And then his heart felt such a sense of joy he couldn't contain it. He dropped to his knees and gathered the man into his arms. The skin was extremely cold with a glacier blue sheen over the stark white. The dark hair stood out in sharp contrast and the lips a deep blue. Walter began rubbing along Alex's arms and chest in desperate movements, growing increasingly frantic to see those eyes open.

When they did it was a jolt for they flew open at the same time as Alex's lips and he lay in Walter's arms gasping as if he had been saved from near drowning. Walter continued to hold him close and speak as softly as he could; although, he desperately wanted to shake the man awake and get some answers.

Alex looked at Walter with complete comprehension for the first time and whispered in a hoarse voice that was full of such a wealth of exasperation despite its weakness, "You're such a bastard, Walter."

Walter threw back his head and laughed, deeply and freely as he hadn't done in a very long time. He could hear the wolf howling along the ridge in answer and it gladdened his heart. It didn't sound quite so lonely anymore. He bent down and kissed Alex's lips until they weren't blue anymore.

Walter put another log into the stove and returned to his resurrected lover who was huddled within the largest and thickest quilt that Walter could find. He had settled Alex in a chair beside the stove and was kneeling on the braided rug which covered most of the floor's surface. He had both of Alex's feet resting on his thighs and was rubbing them briskly. Alex had to walk barefoot back to the cabin with Walter's parka wrapped around him.

For all of Walter's questions and prodding as to the miracle that had occurred, Alex would only shake his head and say he had found a way. Walter left off his tender ministrations of Alex's toes and looked up at the man sitting above him, so miraculously real. He still couldn't quite believe it and yet the man was sitting there sipping at his cup of chicken soup staring back at Walter with such a familiar look on his face.

"I was in a place between, Walter. I think you were there once or twice yourself."

Walter stared into Alex's eyes, trying to gauge his words and the truth in them. Strangely he didn't seem to have a problem believing Alex anymore. Perhaps they had even more in common now than they had before. He thought also that perhaps they had both been soldiers, just fighting on opposite sides. He took another look into Alex's eyes and began to wonder about that, too.

"We have a lot to talk about Walter and it's not just...this." He gestured with his arm to indicate himself and his newly alive state. Walter nodded in agreement and let his eyes roam the flesh that was revealed to him, the skin glowing with warmth now.

His hands moved up Alex's legs, spreading the warmth, never relinquishing his hold on Alex's eyes, which seemed to hold his in both apprehension and an answering excitement.

Walter rose to his knees and took the cup from Alex's unresisting hands and placed it on the floor. Alex lifted his chin just a little. Stubborn. Alex placed the flat of his hand firmly against Walter's chest. Walter could have sworn he saw the reflection of the night sky moving in the depths of Alex's eyes. "A lot has passed between us, Walter. We have to deal with it."

Walter covered Alex's hand with his and tugged at it slightly. He only nodded and tried to put his feelings into his eyes. He didn't know how to say what he felt. He wasn't sure himself. He only knew he didn't want to let this chance slip away from him again.

Alex must have seen something in his face that reassured him because he let Walter lean closer, close enough for their lips to touch. It was the way it had been between them in the beginning and it was totally different. They were different men, now, but the yearning was still there and Walter felt it take root deep inside of him. It seemed to flow out of him like a tree's roots, digging deep into the ground and he wanted nothing more than to let it grow.

Both men wrapped their arms around each other, almost a violent struggle, more a desire to feel alive, to feel the heat of each other's bodies, the warmth of the living who had a second chance.

Walter had never felt such a sense of possibility, such joy. He struggled to contain it and then just let it free.

Alex moaned against his mouth and pulled away, holding Walter's head fiercely caught between his hands. Alex gritted out, angrily and with no small desperation in his voice, "Stay with me, Walter. Stay with me this time. Stay here."

Walter looked into the face he thought he would never see again and promised, "Alex, I swear..."