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English
Series:
Part 10 of No Common Sense
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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851
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1/1
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3
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No Common Sense Epilogue

Summary:

No Common Sense Epilogue

Work Text:


No Common Sense Epilogue
by JiM

 

The night air was rich around him, almost thick with the scents and sounds of summer in the great northern woods. It had rained earlier in the evening; clear, sweet water still dripped from leaves and darted down tree trunks. The ground under his feet was resilient and the spicy scent of redwood swirled around him, making him light-headed with memories. He leaned against the rock cairn and waited. He was used to waiting.

Mulder was early. He hiked up the path, head down, moving at a steady, ground-devouring pace, both graceful and economical of movement. The moon was nearly full tonight, making the path a pewter ribbon through the trees, over the small footbridge and past the foot of the cairn. Mulder sat on the rocks of the cairn for a time, just breathing in the night air, hands on his knees and no thoughts in his head. He, too, was used to waiting.

There was a whisper of sound and Alex Krycek seemed to flow out of the shadow of the rock monument.

"Hi."

"Krycek."

Mulder tilted his head and looked at the assassin calmly. The man was a playground for shadows and moonlight. Light and dark sliced across him and there were no colors but black and gray and white. Mulder couldn't even see the feral green gleam he was used to in the midst of the flawed angel's face. Now, there was no light from within.

"Where's the big man?"

Krycek didn't seem particularly interested in his own question. His dark gaze roved across Mulder's features. Mulder felt as if he were being cataloged, memorized, touched by the beams of a copy machine.

"He's down at the lodge."

"Does he know where you've gone?"

"Yes."

For the first time, Krycek seemed nervous. "And you think he's going to let you come up here to meet me by yourself? Dammit, Mulder, I'm as good as dead!" Krycek looked as if he were about to melt back into the night.

"He said he wouldn't interfere. I trust him."

"Why'd you come up here?"

"I trust you."

The words were spoken quietly, but with complete confidence.

There was a bitter laugh and Krycek turned so that the moonlight fell across his face. For the first time, Mulder could see his eyes. They were flat black, no white at all. All the mysteries of deep space swam in their depths.

"You shouldn't, Mulder. You really shouldn't."

Mulder took a stumbling step backwards, then caught himself and straightened.

"Are you all right, Krycek?"

Ducking his head, face in shadow again, Mulder saw the gleam of white teeth.

"I'm... all right, Mulder. It's not so bad, after a while."

Krycek lifted his head and gazed steadily at Mulder. He saw the tall, lanky form of his ex-partner, lines clean and sure in the uncertain shifting light of the moon. Moonlight silvered his hair, deepened his eyes and made him a creature of starlight and fantasy. As he had always been for Alex.

Shaking himself, Krycek handed Mulder a small vial of darkish fluid. The FBI agent held it up to the light, but could see nothing distinguishing about it -- it might almost have been a vial of the black oil. But, no.

"That's it, Mulder. That's all you need. Reproduce it and start inoculating your people."

"What about you?"

"It's far too late for me, Mulder. Just make sure that you get some of the first batch. You and Skinner. "

Surprise roughening his voice, trying to ignore the finality in Krycek's words, Mulder said, "Why all the tender concern, Krycek? As I recall, the last time we were all together, you were ready to shoot him. And me."

Krycek laughed, a short fox's bark in the darkness. "Never you, Mulder. I would never have shot you." He stopped, then spoke again, much lower. "I think about you two, sometimes. The two of you together. I remember what you looked like that night. I keep that image in front of me, like a snapshot." He laughed again, that same short laugh, only without bitterness this time. "You've become... important to me, you and Skinner."

He shook himself, and stray drops of water flew from his flat black hair. "Time to go, Mulder. Be well. Take the vaccine and keep well." He turned to go and was stopped by Mulder's hand reaching out, but not touching his shoulder. He turned.

"Alex."

"What?" he said brusquely, then went very still when Mulder's hands closed on his shoulders. Slowly, gently, he was pulled against Mulder's body, wrapped in his arms. For the first time in years, Alex Krycek was touching another human being without violence or fear.

Mulder tipped Krycek's chin with one gentle hand, not flinching when the oil-flat eyes flashed in the moonlight, fixing on him. The kiss was tender, careful, warmth without flame, heat without danger. Krycek stood without moving, then there was the benediction of Mulder's lips brushing against his forehead, then the soft whisper,

"Thank you, Alex. Goodbye."

The gentle hands released him. He melted back into the night without a backwards glance.

 
end

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