Mulder stared at them, willing them to stop, but to no avail. After half an
hour, without a cease in the snowfall, he stood up. His bones creaked slightly
and he moved to peer though the blinds, using his fingers to push the slats
apart. The white dust was sticking, the ground cold enough to keep it from
melting; sticking on the street as well as the sidewalk, making the two
indistinguishable one from the other. A street lamp near his apartment made the
snow sparkle the tiniest bit as it tumbled down, ever faster, gaining momentum
rather than slowing as time passed.
He let his fingers slide out of the blinds, leaning his forehead on the wall
beside the window. After a few moments, he decided quickly what he was going to
do. Mulder sniffed and moved to the foyer, grabbing his leather jacket and
gloves. He shoved his arms into the jacket, his hands into the gloves. Mulder
yanked open the door, then reached back to grab his keys off the table and put
them into his pocket. Halfway out of the door, he stopped and moved back into
his apartment. Mulder pushed the door shut, leaving it cracked, and he moved to
his bedroom, throwing open his closet. He stood still in front of it for several
beats, thinking, then reached up to grab something off the top shelf. He pulled
down an old moth eaten woolen scarf, fingering the bright red and blue stripes
and time worn fringe. He wrapped it slowly around his neck, bringing the end up
to his nose, inhaling slightly, smelling a sweetness underneath the musty scent
of time.
Mulder doubled over, wrapping his arms around his middle and hugging himself
tightly. With a strangled sob, he stood back up, his shoulders hunched over,
still holding himself, standing that way for a full minute before turning and
walking slowly back to the front door. He pulled the door after him and checked
to make sure it was locked, then turned to walk down the hall to the elevator.
Mulder pushed the down arrow and waited for the ding of the elevator, then
stepped on and pushed the first floor button.
Stepping out of the elevator and then out into the snow, Mulder glanced around to
see if anyone else was there. Seeing no people or traffic, he walked closer to
the streetlight, the snow around the lamp reflecting the brightness, the ground
around him seeming to glow as he stepped into the circle. The flakes were still
coming down quite heavily, each flake falling into the circle catching the light
and glittering as it fell.
Tears welled in his eyes, the memories almost suffocating him, his breath
gasping, white puffs of air rising up from his mouth. He sobbed again, his
gloved hands reaching for the lamppost for support. He could barely control
himself, his mind flashing images of his childhood, making the tears spill over
onto his cheeks.
After several minutes, his tears slowed, and with his breath still irregular, he
whispered, "Sam" into the cold night air, watching the condensation puff as he
did.
He remembered how she loved the snow, watching the weather every night to hear
them predict the flurries. He always picked on her, telling her it wouldn't snow
and that those men in the cheap suits on the television were lying, trying to
trick little girls into believing them. But she always believed them, and to his
surprise, it always snowed when she said it would. He remembered her putting on
her red snowsuit, with blue patches on the knees and elbows, and her blue snow
boots. He remembered the Christmas he bought her the scarf, telling her it would
match her precious suit. She ran to him and hugged him tightly, whispering to
him that she would wear it the next day when it snowed—which it did. He
remembered laughing as he watched her build a snowman, the scarf too big for her,
wrapped around her neck three times, and still almost to her knees. She took her
scarf off and put it on the snowman, then grabbed Mulder's hand and made him talk
to the mounds of snow, the fringe of the scarf blowing in the cold wind. He
laughed, telling her that snowmen don't talk, then talking to her creation when
he saw her lower lip tremble ever so slightly. It snowed several more times that
year, and with each fresh snowfall, she built another snowman, still wrapping her
scarf around each one's neck. After the snowmen melted, and spring began again,
she still wore her scarf, until the weather got so warm his mother made her take
it off. Then she slept with it, tucking it under her pillow every night. He
remembered thinking about her snowmen when she disappeared. Those were their
last snows together. She was taken before the snows began again.
Mulder closed his eyes tightly, wishing the memories away. He pulled himself
closer to the post, wrapping his arms around it, trying to steady himself.
When he opened his eyes, he was staring into someone else's. Mulder was taken
aback momentarily before he realized who it was. "Alex."
The green eyes blinked, purposely blank, trying to read how Mulder would react.
When he heard his name muttered, Krycek tilted his head sideways, looking
intently at Mulder. He surmised the other man was crying, the tears still on his
cheeks, and he could see the pain in the hazel eyes staring into his. He
whispered a question, "Mulder?"
Mulder was so shocked to see the other man, after so long, he didn't know what to
do. All he could say was "Samantha."
Krycek looked at the other man, noting the tattered wool around his neck,
surmising the situation, then reached out his arm to pull Mulder close to him.
He tucked the older man's head under his chin, rubbing his gloved hand along his
back, pressing into the leather. He moved his hand up to touch Mulder's hair,
suddenly wishing he had taken off his glove to feel the silky strands beneath his
fingers. Mulder's body shook slightly, the sniffing sounds almost inaudible,
muffled by Krycek's chest. His long arms were wrapped around Alex, pulling him
closer still.
"Mulder, it's OK." Alex moved his hand around to pull up Mulder's chin, making
the man look at him. He inched his face closer, then gently stuck out his
tongue, licking away the traces of Mulder's tears, cleaning his cheek, then
moving on to lick at his lips. He pressed his lips to the other man's chastely,
then pulled back. Some of the pain had dissipated from his eyes, so Krycek
pulled him close again, hugging him tightly for a second, then letting him go.
Krycek stepped back, watching Mulder lean against the lamppost. He cocked his
head again, the reached down with his prosthetic hand, scooping up a handful of
the snow, patting it into shape with his right hand. He passed the ball to his
right hand. He smiled slightly, then taunted gently, "Mullllldddderrrrr-"
Before Mulder could respond, still slightly in shock, he felt the cold lump hit
his shoulder. It jarred him, waking him up. He blinked his eyes, watching as
Alex leaned over to scoop up another snowball. He smiled, remembering his
snowball fights with Sam; he always let her win.
Before Krycek could fire the next one, absorbed in pressing the snow together,
his eyes watching his hands, he felt the stinging slap of cold snow on the side
of his face. He looked up, surprised, seeing Mulder toss another expertly packed
snowball from hand to hand, grinning wickedly. "Wait, now- remember, you have a
slight advantage-"
"Krycek, you started the fight. What, too chicken to finish it?"
Alex narrowed his eyes, "Mulder, haven't you learned not to challenge me yet?"
He ducked quickly before the hurled snowball could hit him, then fired his before
Mulder could move, catching him in the middle of the face. Krycek couldn't help
but laugh at the dazed expression on Mulder's face, the man still unsure of what
hit him.
He growled, "I'll get you for that!" Mulder bent to pack another ball, running
after Krycek who was jogging into the street. Several snowballs later, the two
were out of breath, gasping for air and giggling at the same time. Mulder had
caught Krycek, his arm locked loosely around his throat, his lips close to the
other man's ear. "Alex, will you build a snowman with me?" Mulder felt the
other man nod, letting him go as he did, his hand lingering on Alex's shoulder as
he pulled away.
They worked together quietly, quickly, rolling the snow into three mounds, making
sure to stack them close to the building, out of the main walkway. The snowman
was huge, almost reaching Mulder's shoulder. He found some bottle caps in a
nearby trash can, using them as eyes, a nose, a mouth, and buttons. Alex held up
a finger, telling Mulder to wait, then he disappeared around the street corner.
Mulder panicked, fearing that he was gone, but Alex soon reappeared, carrying two
small tree branches.
The younger man arched an eyebrow, handing a branch to Mulder, and grinned
mischievously.
"I'm not gonna ask what tree you ripped these off of." Mulder stuck the branch
in, then stepped back to look at the finished man. Krycek moved to stand beside
him, leaning against Mulder's shoulder.
"It's missing something," Mulder whispered. He unwrapped the scarf from his
neck, and put it onto the snowman, hearing Sam's laugh echo through his head. He
smiled, folded his arms around Alex, and looked up into the falling snow. Then,
he laughed, feeling some of his pain melt away.
He pushed Krycek away from him, then turned him around to face him, his hands
resting on his shoulders. "Thank you."
Alex smiled, too, his eyes crinkling up. "Thank you too."
Mulder turned towards his building then held his hand back for Krycek. "You're
coming up, aren't you? I want you to stay." Alex nodded, taking Mulder's hand,
and following him into the apartment.
They stood silently beside each other on the elevator, Mulder absently holding
Krycek's hand, picking at a thread poking out from the side seam in his glove.
They stepped out when the elevator reached the fourth floor and walked slowly
down the hall to apartment 42. Mulder smiled back at Alex as he slipped the key
into the lock, then turned the knob, opening the door wide to let the other man
pass in before him.
Closing and locking the door behind him, Mulder shrugged his coat off his
shoulder and tugged at his gloves. He turned to Alex, his eyes almost glowing,
and moved his hands to the other man's shoulders, removing his jacket and gloves.
He nodded his head in the direction of his kitchen, smiled, and then moved to
the small room. Alex followed and watched him fill a kettle with water, then
laughed when he saw Mulder get a small box of hot chocolate and an old bag of
marshmallows down from a cabinet.
"How old is that stuff? The marshmallows are all clumped together!"
Mulder smirked, then reached for two mugs from his dish drain. He stared at
them, trying to remember when he had washed them, knowing it hadn't been
recently. He rinsed the cups out with water to be on the safe side, then dried
them. Pouring heaping spoonfuls of the cocoa into the mugs, he looked at Alex
again, watching him watch what he was doing. They stared at each other for
several minutes, unsure of what to say, until the kettle's whistle startled
Mulder into looking away. He poured the water into the mugs, stirred, then broke
off two small clumps of the marshmallows to put on top. He licked the spoon,
keeping it in his mouth, smiling again at Alex as he passed him a mug. He threw
the spoon into the sink and picked up his own mug. Mulder pushed on the younger
man's shoulder, guiding him into the living room, taking his mug away from him
and pushing him onto the couch. Putting the mugs on the coffee table, he plopped
down beside Krycek, leaning back against the arm of the sofa, pulling his legs
up. He wrapped his arm around Alex, settling him against his chest, then leaning
the both of them up to grab a mug, handing it to the other man. He settled back
with his own, sipping the thick chocolate, licking away the slight trace of it
along his upper lip. He rested his chin on Alex's head, sighing with
contentment.
"Mulder, you OK now?"
"Yeah, I'm good now." He lowered his voice and his eyes. "You know what was
wrong?"
"I had an idea. I feel that way sometimes, too, you know. I miss my family."
Alex snuggled deeper against Mulder's chest.
Mulder ran a hand over the short hairs on Krycek's head, watching them spring
back up. "It's nice to have someone understand. Someone to talk to. Other than
Scully."
They sat there, slowly warming up, drinking their chocolate, putting the mugs on
the floor when they finished. Mulder slid further down to lay on the couch,
picking a pillow up from where it had landed on the floor, stuffing it behind his
head. He toed off his shoes, helping Alex with his. They kissed quietly,
sweetly, touching each other gently. Mulder looked up into the other man's eyes,
watching the green turn darker. He drew Alex's sweater over his head, followed by
his worn tee shirt. He removed his own, then reached over to Alex's prosthesis,
quietly asking him with his eyes. When he saw his answer reflected back to him,
he removed the plastic arm, placing it onto the floor, careful not to hit the
mugs.
Flipping them over so he could be on top, Mulder reached next to Krycek's fly,
unbuttoning each button before pulling the jeans and boxers off each leg. He
quickly removed his own. As he lay back down, he covered them with the blanket
from the back of the couch, supporting himself on his elbows so he could look
down at the man beneath him.
"I'm glad you're here. I never thought you'd be here like this. I never thought
I'd let you." Mulder smiled, his face beaming. "And—now. I feel like this is
how it should have always been."
Alex whispered "Me too" and pulled Mulder's face down, capturing his mouth with
his own. They kissed each other hungrily, their lips and tongues searching for
skin, Mulder moving his mouth downwards to kiss along Krycek's delicate upturned
nose and then his jaw. They continued, hands groping, mouths locked, finally
grasping each other, stroking and petting until they exploded.
Mulder grabbed his tee shirt and cleaned them up, kissing Alex's chest after he
did so. They snuggled closer together, Krycek whispering goodnight in Mulder's
ear before they both nodded off, wrapped around each other protectively.
The shrill ring of a phone awoke Mulder, still lying on the couch, the blanket
wrapped tightly around him. He was alone. Sitting up and rubbing his forehead,
he reached for the phone, muttering "Mulder" into the receiver groggily. He
heard Scully begin to chatter away on the other end of the line, and glanced
around the room to see if last night was just a dream. He saw the two empty mugs
on the floor, stained brown from the hot chocolate. And he saw a note on the
table that simply said, "Thanks for last night. K". He smiled. And chuckled.
"Hey, Scully—you want to come over and play in the snow?"
Snow
by Susan
The light shone pale through the cracks in the mini blinds in Fox Mulder's living
room. He had been lying on his couch for some time now, having awakened from his
light sleep; feeling a nudge from inside rousing him. He didn't understand why
he was stirred into consciousness, until he saw the fat snowflakes falling
outside his windows. Mulder had doubted earlier that night that the weather
forecast would be accurate, dismissing the predicted flurries. He wasn't sure if
it was because of his own disbelief of meteorologists or the desire for it not to
snow. But there they were, the flakes falling by the thousands onto the cold,
dark ground.
