by Ratadder
Blowing on my hands, wishing I could remember where the hell I left
my gloves, I scan the placards hanging from the ceiling. Snacks,
snacks, snacks... where are the snacks. Goal spotted, I head off for
a fresh bag of sunflower seeds only to stop dead in my tracks,
causing the cart behind me to catch my heels painfully.
Stumbling forward, I wave off the grudging apology of the woman
behind me, who glares at me for having the audacity to pause in the
middle of an aisle. By the time I get turned back around, the dark
figure ultimately responsible for my now-aching foot has already
disappeared around the far corner. I walk as quickly as I can
without endangering my life on the slick floor in my wet shoes, and
round the same corner breathlessly. Did he see me before I saw him?
Move to avoid me? The thought twists in my chest.
But no. He stands calmly in the frozen foods, studying pork chops.
He must not have seen me at all. I pause to drink in the sight, and
find my respiration doesn't want to slow down. So long, and still
this reaction. I want to scream with the sheer frustration of
feeling my heart kick up to double time. I spend a few minutes
trying to convince myself that the tingling palms are the result of
coming into the warmth from the chill, but finally give it up as a
lost cause. Lying to myself doesn't work as well as it used to.
Black leather is still the look of the day, but the coat is longer
than I remember the old ones being. It hides more of him than I
like, and prevents me from gauging if he's eating well or not. His
hair is back on the shorter side, and I forgive myself the momentary
disappointment that wells. I wonder if the spiky cut is a bow to the
plentiful silver crawling up the sides, above his ears.
As I walk slowly closer, I note absently that he's wearing a
prosthetic. Last time I saw him... but then, last time I saw him
things were crazy. I think it had been damaged. I guess it wasn't
good timing to get fitted for a new one during alien invasion,
especially when you're at ground zero. This new one must be a good
one... I can see from here that it bends at the elbow. He has it
crooked, bent in close to his body, with his red plastic basket
looped over it. His right hand reaches and skims over choice cuts of
meat, pausing and moving on, while the bridge of his nose wrinkles
in concentration. I walk silently behind him until I'm on the right
side of him, then step up beside him and touch his sleeve gently.
Old reflexes die hard, obviously. He stiffens and the face that
swings toward me is all narrowed eyes and calculating suspicion. All
the same, seeing him face on, this close, knocks the breath clean
out of my chest, and it takes me a second to realize he's looking at
me as if he actually doesn't recognize me. My beard... the minute I
think it, his eyes widen comically and his mouth drops open.
"Mulder??!"
I grin, then burst out laughing as his arm reaches automatically to
pull me into a hug, spinning his body toward me and causing his
shopping basket to catch on the meat display, spilling the contents
all over our feet. Staring down at the green beans on his boots and
the lemon rolling sedately across the floor, he joins my hysterical
giggling. I wipe at my tearing eyes, knowing it isn't that funny,
knowing it's nerves making us react this way. I go after the lemon,
trying to get myself under control. When I come back, presenting it
like a prize, he's already put the rest back in his basket. He takes
the lemon with a grin, and I let my hand linger.
"You're cold," he murmurs, when it seems we're going to just stand
there grinning stupidly at each other.
"I've been in the southwest too long. I lost my gloves."
He smiles and nods, as if those two statements go together fine.
"What a... shock. Running into you. I didn't know you were back in
DC."
"I've only been here about two weeks. I didn't know you... well... I
mean..."
He ducks his head, but remains smiling. "Yeah, I know. Nobody ever
knows where I'm at, right?"
"Well, I certainly never do." I let the statement sit there, despite
the almost irresistible urge to soften it down somehow. His
disappearance before the dust had even settled hurt. I know
logically he had no way of knowing that, and in fact probably
thought I'd been glad to see him gone, but that doesn't change the
way I felt. Logic was never my strong suit. Just the opposite
really.
"How was Arizona?"
"Dry. Hot." I pause, then grin. "Terrific."
"I'm glad," he says softly, smiling at me warmly. He looks glad. He
looks good. Standing here, close up, I can see that he's definitely
eating well. Maybe a little too well. I smile at the thought and he
raises an eyebrow.
"Are you... are you in the middle of shopping? Or just finishing?" I
ask impulsively.
"Ah... just finishing actually." He spins and grabs a package of
pork chops with barely a second glance. Either he'd studied them
enough beforehand, or my arrival is shifting his priorities.
We walk to the checkout stand, and stand uncomfortably as silence
falls. I shift from one foot to the other and try to think of
something innocuous to say. The conversation lag is
understandable... what the two of us haven't said to each other
could fill a bookshelf of volumes, but there's always been more than
enough reason why we've never said any of it. To cover my
embarrassment at the awkward pause, I study what he's bought as his
food is totaled, and suddenly find myself thinking that it looks
alarmingly like dinner for two. And just what did you expect? I
catch back a sigh. He hefts the shopping bag easily and turns to me
as we exit the store.
"So... um..."
"Drink?" I ask quickly.
He nods immediately. "That'd be great." I see him glance at his
watch, but don't say anything. If he's on a time limit, let him tell
me so. Instead he offers, "My car's right over here?" I nod at the
question in his voice.
"I'm on foot." I glance at the gray sky and blink a snowflake off my
eyelashes. "I picked a lovely day for a walk." I shrug as he laughs,
and follow him to a black car that unlocks with a series of beeps
when he presses his key chain. Stowing the groceries in the back, he
starts the car while I sink into the passenger seat and scan the car
for clues about his life these days. Unsurprisingly, nothing much
can be gleaned from the interior of a Krycek car. I try not to stare
at him instead.
"So, are you back in DC for good?" he asks casually as he drives,
scanning the street for a bar.
"I might be. I mean, for the time being this is where I'm going to
live. I'm not just here for a visit." I point to a sign ahead of us.
"How about... shit. They're closed."
"On New Year's Eve?"
"Well," now I look at my watch, "we are a little early for the
revelry. Maybe they're getting ready for the partying."
"Okay... how about Morgan's."
"Works for me," I mumble agreeably, then clear my throat. "So, how
about you? You in DC for good?" The pause that follows surprises me.
"In a manner of speaking. Yeah. Yeah, I think I am."
I turn and look at him, immediately acknowledging it as a mistake
since I then can't rip my eyes away. But his voice sounded odd.
"Interesting place for you to settle," I say as politely as I can
manage.
His mouth curves in a humorless grin, and I suck in a breath. "Tell
me about it," he mutters, then glances over at me ruefully. "I can
think of stranger places for me to end up, but not much stranger."
He looks back to the road, peering through the wipers as they shove
little mounds of snow back and forth over the windshield. I give up
trying to look away as his profile gives me a stunning view of those
eyelashes. "There's... well, I'll be damned."
"I thought you redeemed yourself," I murmur dryly.
He snickers, and his devil's husk drops even lower than usual.
"Hardly." He jerks his chin at the window. "But that's what I was
referring to. Morgan's is closed, too."
"This is just great." I exhale sharply and glare at the dark bar as
we coast past.
"There's the liquor store two streets down," he offers.
I appreciate that he doesn't want to give up quite so easily.
Neither do I. I nod and grin at him. "Your car's comfortable." He
laughs and I sit back and enjoy the sound. It occurs to me that, not
counting the few weeks we were lovers before Scully's abduction back
in '94, I've heard him laugh more since I've run into him today than
in almost all our previous dealings. All that laughter puts me in
mind of those days, of him in that impossibly innocent incarnation.
All that laughter also makes me wonder if he's nervous. I try to
decide if I am.
As he pulls up in front of the liquor store, I open my door. "I'll
get it. Beer okay?" At his nod, I slip into the store, snag a
six-pack, and am back in the car in moments. He sits staring at me
as I close the door, not pulling away from the curb. I give him a
questioning look.
"The beard," he finally says, shaking his head. "It's just so..."
I grin. "Sexy? Debonair?"
"Um. Unexpected?"
I roll my eyes. "Thanks."
"Sorry. It's just... I almost didn't recognize you. And for me to
not recognize you... well, let's just say that's really weird."
He looks away immediately, and guides the car back out into traffic.
I realize his cheeks are turning pink. I wonder if he said more than
he intended with that comment. The thought warms me as I wait for
him to find a place to park on a side street before I speak again.
"Toast?" I hand him an opened can and pop the top on my own.
He stares at the can as he takes it, still avoiding my eyes. "To
your beard?" he offers, finally looking up with a guileless
expression.
"Smart ass." I narrow my eyes at him. "How about..." I pause, and
stare into those eyes, which in this instant are so like they used
to be, all those years ago, under a different haircut, above a
different set of clothes. It's almost funny to think of the two of
us back then. "Innocence..."
"Innocence?" he practically shouts, his voice incredulous, doing a
wonderful job of shattering the moment. "Us?! Drink to innocence?
Mulder, people always said you'd lose it one day, but I never
believed them until now."
I sigh and force a smirk. "And you would rather drink to..."
"I don't know." He looks away uncomfortably. "How about... now. The
way things are. The... result, you know?"
Despite the fumbling statement, I do know. After all the horror and
the fighting and the death and the discoveries, the fact that there
is even a now for us to be drinking in is a result worth toasting.
One that we never really got around to toasting, afterward. I nod
and smile. Touching my beer can to his, I say, "To now."
He clinks his can back against mine and pauses for a long moment.
His husky whisper, when it answers, traces a chill down my spine.
"To... innocence."
As we stare at each other over the cans, I get the distinct
impression we're both reaching... somehow, for something. Something
we both want, but define differently. Something of what we were, but
we were never that anyway, and it was just so many empty images. It
makes me ache, and I suddenly want to make the conversation more
genuine... to reach him, touch him somehow.
"How are you these days, Alex?" I finally ask. "Really?"
He swallows hard and glances out the front window, watching the
dripping patterns of snow. "Good. Real good. I... I'm... that is...
Skinner. Me and... and Walter. We... uh..."
I sit there and want to sink through the seat. I know instantly.
It's the tone of his voice more than the stuttering words. And once
the knowledge strikes, each word is like an ice cube down my spine.
"Walter?" I know my voice is cracking, but I can't quite still it.
He drains his beer and reaches for a second. "It was strange.
Pulling him out of a burning building seemed to really... um... make
an impression on him."
"I guess." I clear my throat. I know it wasn't so much that Alex
pulled him from the burning building, but that Alex went back into
the building when he'd realized Skinner was in there. Alex was safe,
outside and clear, and he'd gone back in, injured, and found and
dragged Skinner out. Skinner hadn't complained about our using
Alex's information after that. "I suppose saving his life does sort
of cancel out killing him," I mutter. I know I'm being unfair,
bringing that up, but... hell. Alex and Skinner? The one person who
has more reason than Scully and I to never forgive the man sitting
beside me, and he's not only forgiven him, but he's fucking him? If
he could do it, why couldn't... I shut off the thought.
"It didn't happen overnight," he snaps quickly.
"He likes to do it in the daytime?"
"You're such a bastard, Mulder. I mean it took some long talks. And
a lot of work. But you knew what I meant."
I suck in a calming breath. Alex and Skinner. Okay. I can deal with
this. "So. Married yourself an AD, eh?" I offer a weak smile, and am
rewarded by the sight of him relaxing. He'd been nervous, that's for
certain now. He'd been trying to figure out how to tell me, I guess.
"Yeah, well... you know. Keeps me off the streets... all warm and
safe and dry," he cracks. I have to laugh. The image of Alex needing
a protector, someone to take care of him... it's too funny.
And then suddenly it isn't funny. I remember nights from before...
before he was Mr. Russian SuperAgent, before he was second in
command of a limping Syndicate, before he was a rebel go-between
working with inhuman allies, bef ore he was an ice-cold
revolutionary with all the right answers and too much guts and no
glory whatsoever. I got used to thinking of Alex as something beyond
human, almost an X-File himself. Not needing. But he used to need.
And I wonder, for the first time in years, the old thought that used
to plague me... how much had been acting? How much was the part and
how much was the man.
Maybe Skinner, of all people, found a way to make it safe for Alex
to need. Maybe he really does keep Alex warm and safe and dry. Maybe
Alex actually likes that.
And that isn't funny at all.
I try to stop my tongue but I hear my voice asking, "Do you love
him?" And once the words are hanging in the cozy car interior,
between the frosted windows fogged with our breath, I don't bother
offering him an out. "Do you?" I press instead.
His second beer follows the first and the can crushes. He stares at
the crumpled can in surprise, as if wondering how it got that way,
then drops it to the floor. "Come on, Mulder," he mutters, closing
his hand on the steering wheel, where I watch the knuckles slowly
turn white. "Don't ask me that. I'm trying to give up lying," he
manages hoarsely.
I expected a yes. Whether it was a truthful or a not-so-truthful
yes, and I knew instinctively I'd never be able to determine the
difference, I expected it all the same. I feel the answer I got
instead tighten like a noose around my neck. I know what I want to
say, but...
I finish my beer. Open a third. Hand him the last. As he takes it,
he smiles a little sadly, and I'm struck again by how damn good he
looks. My tongue runs away with my brain again and comes out with
the first thought that pops into my head, the thought that has been
running around in there since first seeing him. "You are looking
damn good."
He chokes on a laugh. "Oh stop..."
"Seriously." I know it's no coincidence that I'm coming out with
lines like this after hearing that he isn't in love with Skinner. I
also know it's extremely clumsy for a come-on, but I recall he
rather liked me clumsy. He stares at me like he's trying to figure
out whether to believe me or not, and I just shake my head. "Damn
good."
"I'm getting old, Mulder."
"We all are."
"Old and gray."
"Silver, actually. And it suits you."
"Flattery will get you everywhere."
"I'm trying."
He blinks at that, then clears his throat. "So you must be doing
well on the lecture circuit. I've heard you're in demand."
As changes of subject go, it's less than smooth. I smile blandly and
let it happen though, nodding. "It's been insane but... I love it. I
mean people actually listening to me... how could I not? The
traveling is pretty intense though."
"Oh please! You're bitching about travel, with the miles you used to
rack up on the X-Files?!"
"Well sure, but then I used to go somewhere and stay once I got
there. This touring is one place right after another..."
"How's Samantha?"
That change was even rougher than the last. I can see this is what
he's been wanting to ask though. "She's... good." I think of the
wreck of a woman — girl, really — who waits for me to come home
from my trips. A genuine warmth spreads through me at the thought of
the smile that comes to the thin, pale face when I walk in the front
door. "As good as can be expected. But... well, we're together. You
know?"
He nods. "I know. Mulder," he hesitates. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry we
didn't find her sooner. I tried. I-"
"Alex." I stop him instantly by raising one hand. I see the flinch
but it takes me a minute to realize... when I do I feel the old burn
of shame and let my hand drop. I didn't mean... I clear my throat
and plow on. "Don't apologize. I know. I know you tried." I put as
much sincerity as I know how into the words. I do know he tried, no
matter what I yelled at him when she'd first been found. "I
appreciate all you did, Alex. I don't know that I ever really got
the chance to tell you that." I curse inwardly. Great. Now it sounds
like I'm bitching about him up and leaving without a trace before
the rest of us even knew the fighting was over. "I mean, I know I
didn't thank you much along the way-"
"Don't. Don't thank me, Mulder. Please." His voice is harsh, but
there's almost a pleading undertone. "I appreciate the thought
but... just don't. Okay?"
"Okay," I finally answer softly. "She's... um... time is helping.
She's improving," I offer instead. It seems to be the right thing.
He turns back toward me with a hopeful look, then lifts his beer.
"To time," he murmurs with a smile.
"To time," I echo, clinking the cans. We finish the last of the beer
while dishing Scully's new husband, and the car falls silent again.
My mouth feels tired, and I chalk it up to the tension. I don't want
to let him go, but I can't think of a good enough reason to make him
stay. I think of asking him to dinner, but the awkward silence won't
let me forget the dinner-for-two in the back seat. Finally, just as
he clears his throat, I sit up straighter. "Well, I should let you
go home," I state firmly. He makes an abortive sound but I set down
the empty can and pull my coat tighter around me. "It's getting
late, and I've really kept you. I'm sure... he's waiting for you."
He nods. "I... well, yes. It was... it was really great to see you,
Mulder. Do you," he pauses then seems to make up his mind all at
once. "Do you want to come back to the apartment? Walter... well, I
know he'd be glad to see you, and-"
I'm shaking my head even before he finishes. "Thanks, Alex. But no.
Sam's waiting for me, and I don't... well, I just think you two
probably don't need me around for New Year's Eve." I grin, but it
feels wooden even to me, and reemphasizes that the muscles of my jaw
are really aching. One forced smile too many. "Thank you, though.
It would be nice to see you two sometime," I lie as I reach for the
door handle.
"Can I drop you at home?" he offers quickly, and something inside me
warms at the realization that he's as reluctant as I am to let go of
this chance encounter, however awkward. But sooner is better at this
point.
"Thanks, no. I'd really like to walk some." This time the smile is
more genuine. My hand tightens on the door handle, but then loosens
again as he leans forward suddenly, pressing his lips to my cheek.
Instantly I'm swept back to a darkened apartment and his lips
brushing my cheek as the scent of gun oil assaulted my nose and my
eyes crossed themselves trying to focus on both him and the barrel
staring at me. This time I do what I almost did then, turning my
face slightly, just enough, catching his mouth with mine. Fleeting
pressure and he's pulling back before my lips can part, his eyes
wide and confused. I tighten my hand again and the car door springs
open obediently behind me, washing the interior with chill, damp
air. Ducking out into the snow, I close the door on his soft
"goodbye".
I step up onto the sidewalk and take a few steps back, watching the
car pull from the curb and drive away. Sucking in a breath of air
tinged with exhaust, I watch until the taillights disappear, then
turn to walk home. The snow hitting my cheeks feels wetter than
before, and I look up to watch the flakes give way to rain.
And Never Brought to Mind...
New Year's Eve, 2006
duck into the grocery store brushing snow from my hair, attempting
to prevent the ever-annoying melt-and-trickle effect. I've
definitely been in Arizona too long. DC in the snow is something of
a shock. I glance behind me to watch the fat white flakes splat
against the glass door. Pretty, though.
Did you sing along? Do you have the damn song stuck in your head
now, like I did?
