Mulder looked down at the bright yellow daisies in his hand,
his breath frosting in the morning air. He walked through the
tombstones, pausing to turn up the collar of his overcoat. His
nose was running and he sniffed, feeling the cold pressing
against his face, biting at his eyelashes.
He stopped at last beside the small white marble headstone and
stared down at the carved letters. Samantha Mulder. Beloved
sister. Below the inscription were the dates that marked the life
and death of an eight year-old girl.
He crouched down and placed the dew-covered daisies in the holder
at the base of the stone. He removed one of his gloves and ran
his fingers along the marble, slowly tracing the letters of her
name.
"I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered.
When he finally stood up, his fingers were chilled and his eyes
burned. He gazed at the gray landscape around him and at the
heavy, lumbering clouds above. His eyes were drawn back to the
small grave before moving on to two particular gravestones
several rows away. He could just make out the names on the dark
marble: his mother and father. Ironically, they were closer in
death than they ever were in life. A twinge of bitterness still
stirred inside him but it was dull and worn. He only wished the
graves were further away.
A cold drizzle filled the air. Winter was lingering this year.
The gravel crunched under his shoes as he left the graveyard and
walked across the road to the Lariat rental. He paused as he saw
that Krycek seemed to be asleep in the passenger's seat, his dark
head thrown back against the headrest.
The inside of the car was warm as he slid in behind the wheel. He
glanced at Krycek's sleeping profile and closed his own eyes. The
silence was comforting. He let the lingering warmth from the
heater seep through him. Perhaps he might've even dozed for a few
minutes. He opened his eyes and blinked at the leaden sky.
"Are you all right, Mulder?"
The husky voice made him turn his head. In the dimness, Krycek
looked like a ghostly shadow with his dark clothes and hair and
his pale skin. But the green eyes that stared back at him were
bright and intense with life.
Mulder turned away to look out at the gray-wrapped landscape and
thought about Krycek's question. Suddenly, he saw the image of
his mother's face, the stark emptiness of her expression and her
cold, forced smile. He saw his father's hard, unforgiving eyes.
And the sunny, yellow daisies at the base of Samantha's grave.
"No," he answered. "But I'm better now."
Krycek's smile was slow and almost a little shy. Mulder smiled
back and steered the car towards the main road.
They drove for a while with only the quiet hum of the engine and
the low whoosh of the heater. Mulder caught the movement of black
leather out of the corner of his eye as Krycek turned a little in
his seat.
"Why am I here instead of Scully?"
Mulder sighed. He briefly wondered why it had taken Krycek so
long to ask the question.
"Because I want you here. I need you here. You know that as well
as I do."
"Scully—"
"Scully has the baby to take care of. She has a chance to build a
new life without my fucking it up for her. She deserves the
chance to live the way she always wanted."
Mulder could hear the smile in Krycek's voice when he replied.
"So you'd rather fuck up my life instead?"
Mulder shook his head. "Too late there. You managed that all by
yourself. Same as me." In the silence that followed, he thought
that maybe his remark had cut too close, but then he ventured a
quick glance at Krycek and met a calm and pensive, green-eyed
stare. "What?" he asked, turning his attention back to the road
before them.
"I'm sorry about your sister, Mulder. Sorry it all led you to
nothing but a cemetery."
Mulder swallowed hard. "She was lost a long time ago. I kept her
alive because I thought I could prove something. I guess we all
got lost along the way, didn't we?"
"Yeah. A long, dark road."
It was a whisper, tinged with disillusion.
"As quixotic quests go, mine wasn't a total loss though." Mulder
managed a grin before he continued. "In the end, I did find my
way. Had to suffer all the slings and arrows that Outrageous
Fortune happily slung my way first. Seems I always had an
aversion for the easy route to anything."
Mulder settled back in his seat and began the drive to Chilmark.
It took them a good part of the afternoon but they arrived just
as sunlight filtered through the thinning layer of clouds. Mulder
pulled the car into the driveway of 2790 Vine Street and turned
off the engine.
His hands still clutching the steering wheel, he peered at the
house before them. He drew in a breath and looked at Krycek.
"This is it. Home, Sweet Home." He forced his fingers to let go
of the wheel. "Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."
Mulder was already inside when he realized that Krycek wasn't
behind him. Turning, he spotted the other man standing a couple
of steps outside the open door, his hands tucked into the pockets
of his leather jacket, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
"You're not going to see much from there, you know," Mulder told
him.
"Are you sure you want me here?" Krycek asked again.
"Damn it, Alex, get in here already."
Eyebrows lifting and green eyes widening at Mulder's forceful
tone, Krycek shrugged and walked slowly inside, gazing around
curiously.
Mulder led him into the living room and stopped near the large
picture window, suddenly drawn back in time by the echo of memories. He shook
them off, not wanting the past to take hold of him. He rubbed a hand over his
face and looked at the musty furnishings. "I, uh, didn't get much of a chance to
excavate past the top layer of dust around here. Need to air out the place. I,
uh, picked up some groceries the other day though. The kitchen's this way."
The kitchen had deep yellow walls with an abundance of pine
cabinets. The linoleum was a worn, yellow and white check
pattern. Krycek walked over to the small kitchen table and pulled
out a chair for himself. White, ruffled cotton curtains that
were a faded with dust hung across the two large windows
that overlooked the back garden. Mulder drew the curtains aside
to let in the struggling sunlight. He opened a window to a
refreshing, cool breeze.
"You want something to eat?" he asked Krycek. "You can check out
the provisions," he added with a nod towards the refrigerator.
With a slight shake of his head, Krycek got up and took a look.
"Mulder, you've got nothing in here but a six-pack of Heineken
and a loaf of raisin bread."
"'And thou beside me in the Wilderness'," finished Mulder.
Krycek shook his head again, this time with a smile. "You're a
strange man, Mulder."
"So I've been told." Mulder pointed to one of the cabinets. "But
I've also got peanut butter and Campbell's soup and a box of
Cheerios in there, all the necessities for long-term survival, so
I'm not that far gone."
"Oh, I don't know about that."
Mulder gave him a shrug. The breeze billowed the curtains on the
window, making them seem as though they were breathing, in and
out, in and out. He opened the back door and walked into the
garden. After a few moments, he sensed Krycek behind him.
"You know, this was just about the only place I remember being
really happy. Maybe that's why I decided to come back here."
Mulder kicked lightly at one of the stones that bordered the
flowerbed, his eyes gazing over the bare shrubs and bushes. "I
really loved the summers when I was a kid...before Sam was gone.
We'd have fun here, Sam and me. My mother worked on the garden
almost every day. Roses, they were her favorite. This garden was
beautiful in the summer, and this section was filled with roses.
She had all the colors, shades of red, yellow, and pink. And
these big, beautiful white roses that had a scent that lingered
in the air like a good perfume." He glanced back at the house, at
one of the windows on the second floor. "I'd get up in the
morning and look out here. Sometimes I'd see my mom and Samantha,
cutting roses for the house. I could hear them laughing
sometimes." He reached out and touched a gnarled, thorny branch.
"It seems so long ago. Maybe it wasn't as good as I remember, but
I remember the rose garden."
"I bet some of these will come back, with a little care. They'd
bloom again in the Spring. If not, you can just plant some more
yourself," Krycek told him.
"I don't know anything about gardening," replied Mulder, then
added with a smirk at Krycek. "Do you?"
"Hell, Mulder, what do you think? It wasn't part of my triple
agent-training regime. Hey, but I'm nothing if not a quick
study." Krycek's dark lashes lowered, shading his eyes, his voice
growing softer. "Maybe we could both learn."
"A rose garden, yeah, I'd like to see it again." Mulder nodded
towards the flowerbed. "What color do you like?"
A cocky smile lit Krycek's face for just a moment as he answered.
"Hot, flaming red. The color of passion." He glanced away and
Mulder could have sworn that Alex was actually blushing.
Mulder stared at his one-time nemesis and reflected on the fateful, twisted road
that they had traveled. In the end, all he could summon was a smile. "We'll
start with red then."
Scully watched her baby sleep. Every movement of the small curled
hands, every twitch of the little pink toes, and every soft puff
of breath from the baby's mouth still seemed like a miracle to
her, even though months had passed since William was born. She
realized she would always feel that way. His very life would
always be a miracle to her. He had changed her very existence.
She had not believed herself capable of loving another human
being so unequivocally until she'd had the baby. She'd tried to
give him up, thinking it was for William's safety, but she
couldn't go through with it. She'd taken her son back.
She brushed the side of his small face with the back of her
fingers as she rose from her crouch beside the crib. A glance at
her wristwatch told her she'd lost track of the time again. She
still had to finish her final case report today and make calls to
Agent Doggett and A.D. Skinner. A glance back towards the crib
only strengthened the decision in her mind.
She was leaving the Bureau. There was really nothing left for her
there anymore. Perhaps if Mulder had stayed... She shook the
thought away. Mulder couldn't have stayed. The world had changed
for them both, though she couldn't help but feel that she was the
lucky one. She had gained where he had lost. His quest had taken
them both down a road of strange and, ultimately, inexplicable
discoveries. The only response left for them was...acceptance.
She knew how hard that acceptance was for Mulder because it meant
he would never have all his answers, never find what he had lost.
Yet for Scully, acceptance meant setting aside the skeptical
scientist within her and embracing a miracle. To have William in
her life, she knew she could do it easily, gladly, and
gratefully. Though she still wrestled with the occasional nagging
doubt that there were vestiges of the Alien Conspiracy still
operating somewhere out there, Scully's intuition told her that
they were finally safe, that her baby was safe. She also felt
that she had Mulder to thank for it. There would always be a
special place in her heart for him, and even now, when she
thought of him, she couldn't help but worry about where he was
and what he was doing.
With a sigh, she settled herself at her desk and turned on her
laptop. Then with a determined pursing of her lips, she reached
for her phone and dialed Skinner's office.
Mulder watched as Krycek pulled off his leather jacket and
carefully laid it over the back of a chair. He watched Krycek's
hands...both hands. Long-fingered, strong, graceful. A cascade of
images and feelings crosssed his mind: images of the Alien ship,
of being tied down and screaming; the seemingly endless pain. The
awful sense of not understanding. The helplessness. Then,
amazingly, there was the sense of being made whole again, the
tumor in his brain gone, all the physical scars and damage of a
lifetime, gone.
They'd done the same for Krycek, too.
And Mulder had saved Krycek as Krycek had saved him.
Perhaps, in the end, that was why the Aliens had left. Perhaps
they simply discovered that the human psyche was too
unpredictable, too complex...too flawed to control with accuracy.
The variables were always changing. The outcome was never
guaranteed. Humans were simply too much bother.
Ah, but what a super soldier the Aliens would have had in Alex
Krycek had they succeeded.
"How's the arm?" he asked aloud.
Krycek flexed his left hand and wiggled his fingers. "Good as
new."
"That's because it is new."
"Sounds like they let you keep the same old, weird brain though,"
returned Krycek with a crooked grin.
"Cleaned and polished, but otherwise in its original container."
Mulder gestured towards the room. "Hope this is all right for
you. It was my parents' bedroom."
"Are you sure about this, Mulder? Do you really want me to sta-"
"Yes, and stop asking me that." Mulder looked down at the floor
and swallowed, "I...I..."
"What?"
Mulder wished he could just say it, but the words, for once,
eluded him. As the silence stretched, he felt a hand on his
shoulder and looked up into Alex's calm, green eyes. Suddenly,
the words seemed to tumble out. "I hated wanting you. Loving you. I guess I
fought it as much as I could, for as long as I could." Mulder shrugged, trying
to make it sound casual in spite of what his eyes revealed, knowing the words
weren't quite right, feeling the emotion tighten in his chest.
A frown grew over Krycek's face, deepening the line just above
the bridge of his nose. He exhaled softly and seemed to gather
himself for a moment. "Oh Mulder." It was hardly a whisper,
little more than a drawn out breath.
Alex took a step back. "I can be easy hate. I made it easy for
you. I've done enough to deserve it." He walked over to the
window, reaching out to finger the edge of the old lace curtain.
His voice had a smoky, wistful quality. "At first, I did what I
thought was right, then I only did what I thought was best. For
me. Towards the end, I wasn't sure why I was doing any of it." He
paused, raking his lip with his teeth as if the words pained him.
"What I did to you is the only thing in my life that I truly
regret."
"And now?"
Mulder watched as Krycek turned towards him, the pale sun
filtering around him like an incongruous halo.
"I feel like the luckiest, hell-bent bastard that ever lived and
didn't deserve to."
Mulder walked across the room to the window, just a foot of space
between them. He gazed into the solemn green eyes. "I stood by
and watched Skinner murder you. Stood there and did nothing. It
was as if every emotion had been frozen out of me. So I just
stood there...and watched."
"It wasn't me, Mulder."
Mulder felt a sudden dizziness and for a moment, it was as if the
whole room was fading away, as if Krycek was fading away. He
rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could just reach out
and pull Alex into his arms. And then he felt strong hands
closing around his back, folding him into a warm embrace. He
could smell the clean citrus scent of Krycek's hair, feel the
silkiness of it against his face. "I know it wasn't," he
continued, his voice muffled against Krycek's neck. "When you
started to say all those things, it didn't make sense. You
didn't make sense. It was as though you were egging him on. It
was as if you...wanted...to die."
"I did, Mulder. The aliens knew that."
Mulder pulled back suddenly, staring into Krycek's eyes, shocked
by his words. "You wanted to die?"
"The replicant they made on the ship, that replicant that stood
in that basement garage, he had my thoughts, my feelings
imprinted in his mind. It was what I wanted, Mulder." Dark lashes
lowered. "I was tired of being the Survivor, the rat, tired of
playing the game. There was no more point to any of it. I'd lost
it all. I'd lost...you. Yes, I wanted to die, Mulder." The green
eyes locked with his again. "The replicant only did what I would
have if I'd been there. It only said whatever it took to make
Skinner pull that trigger." A wry smile played over his lips. "I
figured I owed Skinner that much anyway after what I'd put him
through."
Mulder felt a shudder run through him and reached out to hug Alex
to him again. "We've got a second chance, Alex. The Truth finally
found me on that ship. I don't want to be Captain Ahab any
longer. No more quests. No more extra baggage. None of it is
worth carrying any more. That's over. You know it, too, now. You
understand." He felt the dark head nod against his shoulder.
They drew apart, but Mulder still kept hold of Krycek's hand.
"Where are you going to sleep?" Krycek asked after a moment.
"Um, well, I have my old room down the hall."
"With a nice twin bed suitable for a pre-pubescent?"
"Um, yeah."
Krycek looked at their joined hands and then into Mulder's eyes.
He didn't say anything, but the expression on his face was as
soft and open as Mulder had ever seen. It filled him with a sense
that anything was possible, even his most hopeless dreams.
"The bed in here is much more comfortable," conceded Mulder pointedly.
Krycek glanced towards the large bed. "Um, yeah, looks very
roomy, too."
"Um, yeah, roomy." Mulder felt the laughter starting in his chest
as the last of the brittle walls around his heart began to
crumble. "Would it be too gauche of me to say that I'd like to
expand our acquaintance in a more biblical sense?"
"Now, that's a come-on truly worthy of Fox Mulder."
"Did it work?"
They stared at each other for a moment before they both started
to laugh, the world suddenly filled with a bit more light than
before. Krycek tugged at Mulder's hand and led him to the bed,
tumbling them both to the mattress. "Um, I think so," he finally
replied as he slowly, almost reverently, touched his lips to
Mulder's mouth.
Oh, but Mulder liked the taste of him. He liked it very much.
Alex's lips were soft and warm, his tongue even warmer. Mulder
played his fingertips over the side of Krycek's face, over his
earlobe, palm resting to cup the back of his head. He pulled Alex
on top of him, their mouths still locked.
It all seemed so easy. So simple. As if all the dark and
labyrinthine complexities of their lives had somehow vanished.
Scully drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as she
waited for the light to change. Her mind was still reeling from
her meeting with Skinner. She hadn't been surprised when he had
asked her to come into the office and see him. She assumed he
would try to persuade her to remain with the Bureau. But, in
fact, he'd questioned her resignation only perfunctorily, as if
he'd already known she could not be dissuaded. She'd sensed that
Skinner understood her decision, even if he might not like it
personally.
What she hadn't expected was what he told her about the death of
Alex Krycek.
"Let's take a drive, Scully," Skinner had told her.
They ended up parked in the shadow of the Lincoln Memorial, the
gray-blue Potomac visible just over the rise. Skinner never said
a word during the drive and Scully sat beside him in silence, surreptitiously
checking out Skinner's stony profile, her own anxiety growing. He was looking
out at the water, at the small choppy waves. Finally, she turned in her seat,
facing him.
"Sir, what is it you wanted to talk to me about? I assume it's
not my resignation," she added. For a moment, she thought he
wouldn't answer. His face looked grim, weary, as if a great
weight was pressing down on him. He looked older, more careworn.
Even his shoulders seemed to slump a little.
"Have you seen Mulder?" he asked her, his eyes still fixed on the
river in the distance.
"Not since he left."
Skinner drew in a long breath, eyes unblinking. "I killed him."
Scully felt a cold jolt through her heart. For a split second,
she thought he meant Mulder. No. No. Skinner would never do that.
"W-who did you kill?"
His lips thinned out in a hard grimace. "Krycek. I killed Alex
Krycek."
She could only stare.
"He was a killer. He deserved to die." But Skinner's voice was
strangely hollow, the words said almost mechanically as if he'd repeated them
too often to himself. He swallowed once before he spoke again. "He was wounded,
wasn't even trying to get
away. The rat bastard didn't even try to get away. He just kept
talking." He turned towards Scully, anger and anguish in his
eyes. "Why didn't he just stop talking?"
Her mind tried to take in the implications of what the AD was
telling her. "You couldn't kill anyone in cold blood, sir, not
even Alex Krycek," she replied automatically.
The pain in his eyes only deepened. "Mulder knows. He was there.
He saw me kill Krycek." He turned away then, rubbing a hand over
his face, head bowed. "God, oh god, why didn't he just stop
talking?"
"Mulder was there?"
Seconds ticked by as Skinner struggled to pull himself out of
some inner, dark place. He straightened in his seat and looked at
her with a frown. "That's why I'm telling you this, Scully. I
don't think he...expected me to...shoot Krycek like that.
Mulder's reaction was...strange, distanced. After we left the
garage, left Krycek lying there, I made a call to..." Skinner
paused, blew out a soft breath. "I called someone to take care of
Krycek's body. I wanted it checked. Wanted to make sure it was
really Krycek and not some kind of clone. Maybe I was hoping—"
he stopped himself, began again. "Mulder was with me in the
office when I made the call. He seemed dazed, distracted. I...I
tried to keep him there for a little while, but he left." Skinner
paused again and looked away from her.
Scully waited, but as the minutes stretched out again, she sighed
and spoke. "Was it Krycek?"
"Yes. The tests I had done confirmed the DNA samples." The strain
was there in his voice.
"Does Mulder know that?"
"No. I only found out the following day. I had Krycek's body
cremated." There was a sudden flicker of something horribly bleak
in his eyes that his glasses couldn't hide. "I don't think anyone
will raise any questions. I doubt that anyone would even care."
"Mulder seemed all right when I saw him last, when he saw the
baby," she told him, focusing him back into the moment.
Skinner's answer was low, but firm. "He's not, Scully. Mulder is
not all right. He watched me murder Krycek. I know that affected
him." He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning
white with the pressure. "I can't change what happened. I'm not
sure I'd even want to. I don't know. I don't know. That's what
I'll have to live with, and I know that. I'll...deal with it."
The chilling feeling that Skinner was a man losing himself to
despair, to a horrible kind of personal defeat, washed over
Scully as she listened to him. It struck her that Skinner would
not be able to deal with it, that he was saying the words for her
sake. She found herself swallowing back fear as he went on. "But
Mulder, I think it did something to him, Scully. I think he needs
help. I don't know where he is or how to reach him, but maybe you
can. You have to find him."
Scully returned to the present as a horn honked impatiently
behind her, noticing that the traffic light had turned green. She
couldn't shake the image of Skinner's face and the emotional
torment that seemed to have settled permanently in his eyes.
Skinner killed Alex Krycek. She didn't want to believe it.
Suddenly, the memory of another night years ago rose before her,
and she saw herself standing in front of a drug-crazed Mulder,
her weapon in her hand, watching as he raised his gun towards
Krycek. She could almost hear the sound of her own gun firing as
she stopped Mulder the only way she could.
Alex Krycek hadn't been the one she was protecting.
She bit down on her lip as Skinner's voice echoed in her mind.
"He saw me kill Krycek..."
As she headed for her mother's house to pick up her baby son, she
knew that she had to find Mulder.
Mulder sat back on his heels and wiped his hands on his jeans,
adding to the accumulation of dirt already streaking the worn
denim. He glanced up at a sun that was shining valiantly through
a blue sky streaked with clouds. It actually seemed as though Spring had finally
won its fight with the long winter.
"How're you doing?"
He turned back towards the house and smiled as Krycek came over
and hunched down beside him. They both looked at the mound of
fertilizer piled around a bare rose bush. "I remember this one.
It's called "Scarlet Knight."
"That eidetic memory of yours must be hell to live with," Krycek
told him with a smirk.
"It has its uses." Mulder gave him a quick grin. "For example,
Toblerone is your favorite chocolate bar. The semi-sweet, not the
milk flavor."
"When did you pick up on that?"
"In what I like to call your Faux Nave Fibbie Period. You know,
those ol' bad clothes, bad hair gel days." He smiled at Alex's
grimace. "Whenever you opened your desk drawer, I could see a
couple of those dark, Toblerone bars stashed away in there. You
never shared any of them either, you little bastard."
"Hey, I fetched coffee for you like a damn handmaiden, Mulder."
"Yeah, I liked that." He reached out, grabbed Alex around the
neck and pulled his face close for a kiss. The kiss turned into
two, then three before they finally pulled away from each other
with a little moan. "Mmmm, like this, too. Did you know that none other than
Albert Einstein himself authorized the patent for the Toblerone brand in 1909?
He was working as a clerk in the patent office in Bern, Switzerland at the
time."
"Thank you, Professor Mulder. By the way, you're getting
fertilizer on my clothes."
"Do you mind?"
Alex tilted his head to the side, as if seriously contemplating
the question. Then, with a satisfied chortle, he leaned forward and wrapped his
arms around Mulder and kissed him again. Mulder
moaned into the clever, moist mouth that covered his and moaned
again as Alex's hands slipped under his sweatshirt and trailed up
across his chest to play with his nipples.
Scully left message after message on Mulder's new cellphone
number, the one he had given her after the Bureau had fired him.
When he'd said goodbye to her and the baby that fateful day, he'd
told her he would come back if ever she really needed him.
She waited. A day and then another passed by. He didn't call. She
tried calling the old numbers to his father's house, his mother's
house, but they had been disconnected long ago.
By the third day, she was more than concerned. Mulder should
have, would have called her back. He'd promised her. She thought
about contacting the Lone Gunmen to ask for their help. When the
phone rang that evening, she assumed it was Skinner again. He'd
called her every day, his voice edged with a growing depression.
His pain was palpable over the phone line when she's told him
that she hadn't reached Mulder yet.
She reached for her phone, steeling herself. "Hello?"
"Hi, Scully."
Relief rushed through her. "Mulder! Oh, thank god."
"What is it, Scully? Are you all right? Is William all right?"
She was clutching the receiver and took a breath, the words
pouring out with her worry. "Y-yes, I'm fine. The baby's fine.
Mulder, I just have to see you. Why didn't you call me? I've been
leaving messages for days."
"I'm sorry, Scully. I turned off my cellphone when I drove up to
see Samantha's grave. Then, I...I just got wrapped up in
something else and I forgot to turn it back on until today.
Scully?"
When he called her name, she realized she'd been silent too long
and mentally shook herself. "Uh, yes, Mulder, I'm here. Mulder,
can we meet somewhere?"
"Well, I'm...in the middle of something right now—"
"I need to see you, Mulder," she told him firmly.
There was a note of hesitation when he answered. "Okay, sure,
but—"
"Where are you?"
There was another pause and Scully bit down on her lip to keep
herself from prompting him again. If there was one thing she'd
had to learn in her years with Mulder, it was patience. She
clamped down on the sense of dread that was wrapping itself
around her insides since she'd heard him say he had gone to see
his sister's grave.
"I'm in Chilmark, at the summer house."
That surprised her until she recalled that the cemetery where his
parents were buried was within driving distance from there.
"Okay, Mulder, I can fly up to Boston tomorrow and drive out to
see you."
"What's on your mind, Scully? Can't you just tell me on the
phone."
How could she tell him? She wasn't even sure herself about what
she was going to say. "No, Mulder, I have to see you. Please."
"Maybe it'd be better if I came down there. The baby—."
"No, William will be fine with my mom. This is important, Mulder.
Wait for me." She kept talking, asking him for directions to the
Chilmark house, not giving him a chance to change his mind.
"Scully, listen, I have to tell you something—"
"You can tell me when I see you. Just wait there for me, Mulder.
Wait for me." She practically hung up on him as she ended the
call. She sank down in the chair, her hand touching her mouth.
She realized she was trembling.
"He's not all right, Scully." Skinner's words echoed in her
brain. Mulder had told her he'd gone to see Samantha's grave.
She drew in a calming breath and concentrated on what she needed
to do to get on the first plane she could catch to Boston.
A few hours later, she was on the plane, staring out the window
as the 737 rose above a thick bank of marshmallow clouds.
Scully stared into the bright blue sky and fought back a rising
sense of guilt.
She hadn't tried to make Mulder stay. He'd left her because he
had still sensed a threat, a danger that his presence could cause
to both her and the baby. She hadn't argued. She knew she
couldn't stop him from leaving anyway and now she could admit to
herself that with the baby's safety at stake, it had been easier
to let Mulder go. She had even managed to force herself to give up William in
order to protect him.
For the past nine years, Mulder had been the most important
person in her life. She knew that he would always be important to
her, but she could no longer pretend that he was her first
priority. Perhaps Mulder had realized it before she had herself.
The months had rolled by and life continued. Except for
one strangely uncharacteristic email in which he'd spoken of his
loneliness, she hadn't heard from him at all. Then, finally, with
Doggett and Reyes' help, they had uncovered evidence that the
threat of Alien invasion had been stopped once and for all. It
had given her the confidence to take back her son and start a new
life. Scully felt certain that, somehow, in some way, Mulder had
played an integral part in the Alien Conspiracy's final defeat.
Yet, Mulder never came back.
She missed him but she didn't look for him, not the way she would
have before the baby. Her heart told her that he was all right,
that he was not hurt or in danger, but now...she was afraid for
him again.
Scully wasn't really aware of the time as the plane made its way
into Boston's Logan Airport. She was lost in a wave of memories,
images from her last nine years with Fox Mulder drifting through
her mind like snowflakes. She remembered the times that had forged a soul-deep
friendship through challenge and adversity, strengthened and balanced by their
disparate personalities. Yet, even at their closest, Scully always sensed a
singular loneliness in her partner that even their friendship couldn't breach.
After her plane landed, Scully took the 30-minute commuter flight to Martha's
Vineyard rather than trudge through a three-hour long drive to the Island.
During the short Cape Air flight to the Vineyard, she decided to go the cemetery
first before seeing
Mulder.
The Mulder family gravesite was located in a Tilsbury cemetery.
Scully wasn't sure why the family hadn't chosen a site closer to
Chilmark. It seemed to be just another oddity about the Mulder
family.
She remembered the funeral for Mulder's mother, remembered how
Mulder had stood by the grave, his hazel eyes empty of all
emotion. He'd looked from his mother's grave to his father's
beside it. Scully could still see the bitter twist to his mouth
as he'd whispered, "Why couldn't they trust me with the truth?
Why couldn't they love me a little?"
As she walked along the jagged line of headstones, she felt a
cool breeze against her face and listened to the rustle of the
new leaves in the trees that dotted the landscape. Some of the
headstones were very old, going back many generations, their
stone and granite faces chipped here and there, the lettering
worn thin by the years. The scent of fresh earth and a new Spring
hung in the air, surrounded by the whisper of history.
She found Bill and Teena Mulder's graves in a row along a gentle
slope. She stood silently before the headstones for a moment,
remembering the sad and turbulent relationship between Mulder and
his parents. She thought of her own parents and considered
herself fortunate.
Her blue eyes examined the nearby graves as she began to walk
along the rows. She stopped in the middle of a small patch of
grass and looked down at a spray of dry, yellow flowers. Stooping
to pick up a dried, half-crushed stem that was tangled in the
grass, she looked at it closely and then at the other bits and
pieces of yellow petals sprinkled over the area. Daisies. It
seemed as though someone had left a bunch of daisies on the empty
patch of ground. There were no grave markers around.
She looked up towards the two Mulder gravestones as a knot slowly
tightened in her stomach and a frown etched its way across her
face. The remains of the flower slipped through her fingers and
caught on a breeze, drifting for a moment to land a few feet
away, entangled once more.
Her walk quickened as she headed back towards her rental car.
She drove as fast as she dared, following Mulder's directions to
Chilmark. It was still mid afternoon when she arrived in the
quiet neighborhood that was more countryside than suburb. She
followed the winding roads lined with old elm and maple trees
that were beginning to bud with new leaves until she arrived at Mulder's house
on Vine Street. She gazed at the white brick and wood faĦade and the trail of
thick, evergreen ivy that hung from the second floor window boxes. The house was
in need of a new coat of paint but otherwise looked like something out of an
issue of Cape Cod Life.
It struck her as a strange setting for Mulder, but then most
aspects of her former partner's life seemed laden with
incongruities. This childhood home with its pleasant, welcoming
faĦade seemed in sharp contrast with the stark, emotional
wasteland of Mulder's youth and relationship with his parents.
Given that Samatha's disappearance, the pivotal experience of
young Mulder's life, took place here, made Scully wonder why he
would choose to return. Then again, she seldom found it easy to
figure out why Mulder did what he did. Despite how much she cared
for him, loved him, she knew she would never truly understand
him.
With a deep breath, she walked up the short, curving path to the
front door and ran the bell. A minute passed, and then another.
She rang the bell again, rose on tiptoe to try and peer in
through the half moon of tinted glass set into the upper part of
the door, but she could only see a flicker of shadows beyond. She
knocked on the door and pressed the bell again.
"Hang on, I'm coming!"
She exhaled in relief at the sound of Mulder's voice. A moment
later, she saw a familiar pair of hazel eyes looking down at her from the small
half moon and then the bolt lock clicked and the door opened.
"Hi, Scully."
Mulder's face was smudged with dirt and there were streaks of it
across his gray sweatshirt and around the knees of his washed-out
jeans. He looked flushed and sweaty, but his smile went all the
way up to his eyes, lighting his face boyishly.
Scully stepped forward and hugged him close, feeling the warmth and solidity of
him in her arms. She felt his hands move hesitantly around her shoulders. It
reminded her of so many other times and places when she had stood just this way,
holding on to
Mulder. Evoked too many moments of sadness and desperate comfort.
"Everything's okay, Scully. Everything's okay." Mulder spoke softly as she felt
his face against her hair. His hand patted her awkwardly, the gesture bringing a
wistful smile to her face as she slowly pulled away. She brushed away a smudge
on his cheek and lifted an eyebrow in question.
"I was, uh, working in the garden."
Her other eyebrow joined the first. "You've broadened your
horizons," she told him with a small smile.
He grinned back at her. "I'm retired now, Scully. That's what
retired people do. I think it's in the AARP Handbook. Didn't you
know?"
"Retired, Mulder? You?"
"Well, 'official-persona-non-grata-permanently-ass-kicked-out-of-the-Bureau'
sounds a little wordy." He stepped aside and waved her inside.
She noticed that he glanced quickly down the hallway and up the
stairs as if was looking for something, but then he just smiled
at her again and led the way into the kitchen. He gestured to one
of the chairs around the kitchen table. As she took her seat she
watched him carefully. His hair was a little shorter and it
seemed he might've gained a pound or two on his lanky frame. Time
seemed to have caught up with him, but then that was true for her
as well. The last few years had been especially difficult.
For a moment, she thought of Skinner.
"Okay, Scully, why did you want to see me?"
She blinked out of her reverie and stared into Mulder's
changeable eyes. Now that she was here, now that Mulder was
standing before her, she still didn't know how to begin. She
pressed her lips together and took a breath. "I went to the
cemetery in Tilsbury before I drove here." She stopped, waiting
to see his reaction.
"Why?" His expression was only mildly curious.
"You said you saw your sister's grave."
He just nodded, his eyes darting to the doorway that led to the
other rooms. When his gaze returned, his eyes had a faraway,
almost dreamy cast to them. Then he focused on her and his mouth
turned upwards in a grin. "What?" he prompted innocently.
The knot in her stomach seemed to be retying itself as Scully
pursed her lips and made herself say the words, her voice as
gentle as she could make it. "Mulder, there's no grave there for
Samantha. There couldn't be. Her body was never found. You never
had a gravestone made for her."
He was shaking his head at her in that stubbornly familiar way
that used to make her blood pressure rise. "You couldn't have
been looking very hard for it, Scully. It's a small white stone
with a flower holder at the base." His face softened. "Beloved
sister," he said. His eyes dimmed with sadness. "I couldn't put
'beloved daughter'. It wouldn't have been the truth."
Scully felt her nails bite into her palms. "Mulder, there is no
gravestone there for Samantha," she told him again.
"You should have called me. I would've come out there and showed
you," he replied.
She took another deep breath. "Did you bring daisies to her
grave, Mulder?"
"Yeah. Samantha liked daisies. She'd put them in her hair
sometimes. In her braids." He smiled.
"Oh, Mulder," she whispered.
"C'mon Scully, you sounded frantic on the phone. What's happened?
You said William was okay, right?"
It was as though he hadn't understood, or refused to understand,
what she'd just told him. She reached out and grabbed his hand,
pulled him down to sit in the chair beside her. "I talked with
Skinner. He—he told me what happened with Alex Krycek." She felt
a reflexive tug on her hand at the name, but held on. "Skinner
told me that he..." She found she couldn't say the word. "Skinner
told me what happened in that garage, told me how Krycek...died."
Mulder's head lowered. He seemed to be staring at the tabletop.
"Mulder, look at me," she told him. She heard him sigh and then
he met her eyes.
"Tell Skinner," He paused for a moment, his gaze shifting to the
open door to the garden before he turned back to her again. "Tell
him it's all okay now. He..." Mulder shifted in his seat. "I
didn't think he was going to pull the trigger that final time. I
didn't think Skinner was capable of..." His voice trailed off as
he took a breath, began again. "I've thought about it a lot, and
I don't think Skinner thought he could do it either. We both
just let it happen." His eyes closed, head drawing back for a
moment before he focused on her again, the light returning to his
eyes. "But it's okay now," he repeated. "It's the way it should
be. Tell Skinner that, okay? He doesn't need to feel guilty."
Mulder gave her another one of his soft, winsome smiles.
"What do you mean? What's the way it should be, Mulder?"
He gave a little shake of his head. "Methinks you would not
approve, Scully." He withdrew his hand gently and stood. "Is that
all you came up to tell me?"
She pushed her chair back and stood, apprehension tingling
through her as she sensed the unfamiliar new wall between them. She waited until
he met her eyes. "I wouldn't approve of what? Of the fact that Walter Skinner
killed Alex Krycek while you stood by and watched it happen?" she asked him with
deliberate bluntness.
Mulder stepped back as if she'd struck him. He stood very still.
She could almost hear him breathing. She watched his mouth move silently for a
moment as if he couldn't quite get the words to come out. Then his voice was
barely a whisper. "It didn't seem...real."
The lost, faraway look in his eyes tugged at her heart. "Mulder, it wasn't your
fault. Krycek chose his path long ago. I'm surprised he survived as long as he
did. I—"
Mulder cut her off, his voice rising, tinted with anger. "It shouldn't have
happened like that...it shouldn't have happened at all. I shouldn't have let
it." He met her sympathetic gaze and,
suddenly, grinned. "But it's okay, Scully. It didn't happen like
that. Alex is fine, just fine."
She stared at him for a moment. "What do you mean? Krycek is
dead, Mulder."
He shook his head. "That was a clone, Scully. Alex is here. He's
upstairs right now. I...I know there's not exactly a lot of love
lost between the two of you and I thought it would be better if
you didn't know." He shrugged. "I didn't expect to see you so
soon. I thought that you'd be immersed in the raptures of
motherhood," he added with a small grin.
"Krycek is upstairs?" she asked him, keeping her voice as gentle
as she could, even as she fought the cold fear that was spreading
through her.
He nodded, his teeth raking his lower lip as he seemed to sense
her rising concern. "Look, Scully, I know you probably think I'm
crazy for having anything to do with Alex after everything that's
happened, but this means a lot to me. He means a lot to me." He
put up a hand as she tried to interrupt. "I know the history
between us is crazy. I know it doesn't make sense. It's not
logical, not rational, not sensible." He gave her a wide-eyed
shrug. "Then again, when has anyone ever associated those
adjectives with me anyway?" He sighed at her frown. "I just got
tired of fighting myself, fighting the way I feel about him. I
didn't really face it until after...after I watched him die.
After I thought I'd never see him again. I didn't feel anything
at first. Nothing at all. And then it just...hit me. It was like
waking up suddenly." He reached out and took her hand. "I hope
you'll try and accept it."
Scully looked down at their joined hands and back up into the
hopeful hazel eyes. "I'd like to talk to him. You say he's
upstairs now?"
"I don't think that's such a good idea, Scully."
"Why not, Mulder? If you want me to understand, then I'll have to
see him, talk to him." She said it calmly, but firmly, her hand
unconsciously tightening around his fingers.
He stepped away from her, turning his gaze towards the hallway
and the stairs. "Okay, just...give me a chance to talk with him
first. We're just getting the hang of being together ourselves. We weren't
exactly ready to have company. Alex is a little jumpy."
Scully almost gaped at him, unable to prevent her disbelief from
showing . "You sound like he's a sheltered, choir boy, Mulder. We
are talking about the same man, aren't we? Alex Krycek,
Consortium assassin and professional killer?"
"He's not the same, Scully. Just like I'm not the same. The
aliens took him, just like they took me." Mulder gave her a hard look. "Freedom
of choice is more illusion than reality. Much of what Alex became was not his
choice. I didn't realize that until I went on that ship. Didn't realize how
little of my own life was my choice. Or how hard I've been fighting to deny the
fact." He turned his back on her and started walking towards the stairs. "Just
let me have a few minutes with him first."
Scully stood in the kitchen and watched him go, feeling strangely
helpless.
Mulder chewed on his lip as he slowly headed up the stairs. He
could almost feel Scully's eyes boring into his back. This wasn't
he way he wanted it to happen. He had hoped to tell her about
Alex later. Later, after things were more settled between them. He had hoped for
more time.
There never seemed to be enough time.
As he approached the master bedroom, he wiped his hand over his
face and rolled his shoulders back. Alex was sitting on the bed.
The green eyes met his squarely but his expression was guarded, a
little like the old Alex. It made Mulder sigh.
"Scully's downstairs." That got him a roll of the same green
eyes, confirming that the obvious was well known. Mulder went
over to the bed and reached out to stroke the soft dark hair.
"She wants to talk to you. She thinks you're dead." Alex smiled
up at him, his head rubbing back against Mulder's hand. "Skinner
told her what happened. Well, what he thinks happened." Mulder
let his hand drift down the side of Krycek's face, feeling the
heat of his skin against his palm. "If it's any consolation,
Skinner seems to have taken it...badly."
"That man always had too much conscience for his line of work.
Guess it finally caught up with him," came the husky reply.
It was Mulder's turn to smile. "Maybe we've all become prone to
delayed reaction."
Alex leaned forward, his arms wrapping around Mulder's waist,
pulling him close until his dark head lay against Mulder's chest.
"Does that mean you'll change your mind and throw me out of here
tomorrow?" Alex's voice was muffled against his sweatshirt.
Mulder could feel the puff of his breath, the reassuring pressure of his embrace
tightening reflexively around him for just a moment.
"I've had more than my fair share of regrets, Alex. I pushed you
away over and over again. I couldn't deal with you. But, you
know, I think somewhere in the back of my mind, I was sure you'd
always come back, one way or another, like a boomerang. Throw him
away, he'll always come back. Somehow, I never really believed I
could push you away...forever. Then, in that garage..." Mulder
paused, seeing it all again in his mind's eye, feeling the stark,
raw chill seeping into him. He swallowed and put his hands on
either side of Alex's face, pushing it back so he could look into
those green eyes, so alive and vibrant. "Spooky Mulder's been
given one last chance. I'm not letting you go ever again."
"What about Scully?"
"She's my friend. We love each other, you know." He watched as
the green eyes darkened, and wondered if it was jealousy." Mulder
shook his head. "Not the same, Krycek. Not the same thing at
all," he admonished firmly, but with a glint of humor in his eye.
He was rewarded with an unexpectedly diffident lowering of the
thick lashes. "She'll accept us." He chuckled. "Hell, I've done
plenty of things that Scully didn't like, but she's always
accepted me...eventually."
Alex was pulling him back and he felt himself losing his balance
as he was tumbled to the bed. He heard an "oof" as he landed on
top of Alex and laughingly shimmied over him to settle to one
side, Alex's left side. Mulder flung a leg over him and took hold
of Alex's warm left hand, opening it to delicately kiss his palm.
Krycek smiled at him and curled his fingers over Mulder's mouth,
gently scissoring his nose between his middle fingers.
"Hey, that's my best feature you're mauling," muttered Mulder
between little palm licks.
Alex waggled his eyebrows. "Definitely not your best feature,
love." His mouth snapped shut and his eyes darted away, as if he
just realized what he'd called Mulder. A moment later he looked
into Mulder's eyes. Whatever he saw there allowed him to let out
a breath. He tweaked Mulder's nose again, let go, leaned over and
kissed it. "This," he made a little sweep of the room and the bed
with his right hand, " has got to be an X-file if there ever was
one. Me and you...like this."
Mulder didn't answer, letting the silence stretch. "You called me
'love'."
"Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't—"
Mulder frowned. "Didn't what? Didn't mean it?"
"No! No. I...I just don't want to push...don't want to fuck up—
Alex shut his mouth.
Mulder began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, rumbled through
his chest, dipped down into his belly, and came out in a full-
blown laugh. God, it felt good. Felt so go to stop fighting the
longing, to just let it all go. To love. He felt Alex drawing
back his hand but he held on. Instead, he traced a line down each
long finger, then down to the wrist. "I'm glad they gave you back
your arm," he said simply. "You know, I feel...free. Do you feel
it, Alex? The freedom in the air? It feels like the fog rolling
back, like the smell of a field of wildflowers after a rainstorm.
Or like watching a sunrise from the top of a mountain. Feeling like a bubble
floating up through a clean blue sky forever."
Green eyes gazed back at him with a look of wonder. Alex glanced
down at his hand entwined in Mulder's. "Yeah, yeah I feel it,
too." He shifted a little so he could put both arms around
Mulder again. "Free," he whispered, just before he took Mulder's mouth in a
long, tender kiss.
And that's how Scully found them. She was standing in the
doorway, her face pale, her gaze locked on the bed. On Mulder.
Mulder felt a quick flare of anger at her abrupt intrusion. He
felt Alex stiffen in his arms, felt him begin to pull away. He
tightened his own hold, looking quickly into the uncertain green
eyes. "No, Alex, stay. It's all right. She should know. She'll
understand." He placed a gentle kiss on Alex's temple and was
rewarded with a sigh as Alex relaxed back into his arms, eyes
closing. His anger melted away and he turned back to Scully
calmly. "You're not as patient as you used to be, Scully," he
quipped.
When she simply continued to stare, he gave Alex another
reassuring glance before speaking to her again. "Okay, Scully,
have a good look. I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted to see.
It's the way it was meant to be. I know that now." Mulder gave
her a serene smile, his bright eyes filled with a joy that he
couldn't contain. "I'm fine," he told her. "We're fine."
Mulder turned his face towards Alex and back again. "I'm home
now, Scully."
Scully listened to her partner's voice, hearing the peace, the
quiet certainty in his voice. Tears began to fill her eyes,
spilling slowly, silently, down her cheeks.
His sweet smile broke her heart. She watched as he turned his
gaze away again, casting that look of love and contentment
towards the empty space on the bed beside him. He pressed one of
the pillows against his chest and whispered, "Alex...Alex."
Scully realized then that what Mulder told her was true. After
all the years of defeat and loss, he had finally found a place
for himself where no one and nothing could hurt him. A place with
no more betrayals, no more disillusionments. A place where his
dreams still existed for him and the loneliness was gone, and where the truth
came only from his heart. At long last, Mulder was happy.
the end
Journey's End
by Courtney Gray
"The heart has its reasons, of which the mind knows nothing."
—Blaise Pascal
