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Resist and Serve V
by Ratadder


And Never Brought to Mind...


New Year's Eve, 2006

S 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.

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.


Did you sing along? Do you have the damn song stuck in your head now, like I did?

###

snakedoctor13@yahoo.com

Resist and Serve VI: Still Burning

Pairing: Hmmmm...
Disclaimer: All hail CC and 1013. No money made. Just a few new years resolutions broken.
Feedback: snakedoctor13@yahoo.com
*WARNING*: [flashing redlights] Songfic! Songfic! Somebody evil dared me. I do on a dare... Besides, it's the holiday season. Holidays, aside from slowing my work life to a deadly crawl (leaving me with an entire afternoon with nothing but the radio and slash to keep me company), also put me in a silly mood. Songplot shamelessly "borrowed" in entirety without permission. Then altered here and there to suit my needs.

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