Weft - Avoidance
by Amirin
"Yeah."
He entered cautiously, eyebrow arched.
"Want to tell me what that was all about?"
"I don't have a fucking clue."
"He thinks we're..."
"Apparently." I sighed and put the cell on the nightstand. Right next to
my new watch. Which was a work of art. Which I hadn't even thanked him for.
Shit.
"I should get going."
I shook my head and Walter dragged the chair over near the bed. I caught
his look at the leather jacket and wondered. For about a nanosecond. And
crossed that eventuality off the list. Permanently.
All I wanted to do was call Alex back.
"I was supposed to stay until he made contact, one way or another. I take it
he has."
"He was here. Said to say hi. And to tell you, you snore."
"I'm glad I'm still breathing."
"He just came to... I don't know. He could have had it all delivered with
breakfast." I spared a glance at the watch and Walter's eyes tracked mine and
widened. He whistled softly.
"Classy."
"Yeah."
"He's got taste."
"Nothing but the best for Alex Krycek."
"I'm beginning to understand that."
You know, I've always hated it when Skinner mutters cryptically. Really
annoys the hell out of me.
"He left instructions for you?"
"Yeah. Wants me to spend the day playing John Q. Tourist. I'm supposed to
leave tomorrow morning."
"For where?"
"Don't know. He said to check the glove box in the Ferrari."
"So you couldn't tell me, even if you wanted to."
"He does tend to be deliberate."
"Very." He sighed and looked resigned. "I need to get going. He warned me
not to interfere. With anything."
"Breakfast..."
"I'll grab some coffee downstairs before I go. I don't usually do
breakfast."
"A week ago, I didn't either. Amazing what you can get used to."
"King-sized suites and room service." He was grinning when he said it.
"Yeah."
"I'll see myself out. Watch yourself, Mulder."
"You, too."
I heard footsteps, a door close, more footsteps, another door, then silence.
And had the cell in my hands a moment later.
And cursed when I got the 'unavailable' message.
And did my best to follow Alex's original instructions about not thinking,
about letting him do the thinking. The only problem was, I didn't like what he
seemed to be thinking and I didn't have any way to set him straight.
Christ.
How had this gotten so un-fun all of a sudden?
The urge to take off and head in Vermont's general direction was almost
overwhelming. Hell, I'd ditched Scully for less. Many times.
And I couldn't escape the fact that the last time I'd gone running off,
she'd gotten killed.
The thought occurred to me that I couldn't afford to do it twice. I was
running out of partners.
And I wondered when Alex Krycek and I had become partners again.
And I wondered when it had gotten so easy, to follow where he led.
And I wondered why it didn't bother me. What bothered me was the fact that
I couldn't get a hold of him, couldn't talk to him.
And I wondered how much time I had before breakfast came knocking.
I resigned myself to a day of aimlessly wandering around New York City,
dragged myself out of bed, and hit the shower. I was barely out and dressed
when breakfast arrived and I honestly didn't think I could sit still long
enough to eat it.
The cell had become a permanent part of my hand; I was trying to dial about
every five minutes.
And growing more manic all the time.
Until I saw the note tucked under the plate.
I'll call you later.
Promise.
A
And considered not leaving the room except to get my next set of directions
out of the Ferrari.
And decided I really didn't want to have to tell Alex that, when he called.
I left my laundry for the valet service to take care of and headed to the
garage. Took one look at that car and couldn't help grinning.
And couldn't get behind the wheel fast enough.
Headed out of New York, just so I could open her up. And hoped Letterman
was keeping the cops busy, because I was going to try and break some land speed
records, if I could get away with it.
Apparently, I could. And did. And had a fucking wonderful time, thank you
very much.
I got lost twice, not that I cared.
Avoided Pennsylvania like the plague was due to strike.
Couldn't deal with it. Not yet.
Southern New York was so... normal. Gotta be what draws the serial killers
there to retire. Last place anyone would look for them.
Found a diner that did amazing things with soup and gorged myself. The
hangover was totally gone and I was starving. Got back on the road after my
second piece of pie.
Spent hours driving, top up, top down, radio on, radio off. Actually tried
singing, once.
Only once.
Made it back to the city around four in the afternoon, headed to the room to
shower and change into clean clothes, and called a cab to take me to the
restaurant where Alex had made me dinner reservations.
It was Russian. Tiny hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Amazing. Dinner had
been ordered for me. I spent the next hour eating a little of everything and
all of it delicious. Leave it to Alex.
Hell. Could I leave any more to Alex? The man had taken over my life.
And done a much better job with it than I had.
Which really pissed me off.
I gave up drinking after two small glasses of vodka, chilling on ice. So
cold it hurt. It was wonderful.
Debated walking around the city, but didn't trust the 'new and improved'
party line enough to chance it. Caught another cab and went to Central Park,
still pretty light out, nice, cool evening, sun not yet down.
Beautiful. I hailed a carriage and made myself comfortable, letting someone
else do the driving.
And thought about Alex. And took the cell out of my pocket just before it
rang.
"'Bout time."
"I'm hearing clip-clopping."
"Carriage ride in Central Park."
"You're alone?"
"You're not here, are you?"
"No, I'm..."
"Somewhere else."
"Yeah."
"Then I'm alone."
"I think it's my turn to be the idiot."
"Dibs on tomorrow."
"You're hilarious."
"And you're smiling."
"Yeah. What are you wearing?"
"You keep stealing all my best lines."
"Fox."
"Nikes, leather jacket, Patek Phillipe watch."
"Nothing else?"
"Nothing else that matters."
"What the hell are you doing, Mulder?"
"What the hell does it feel like, Krycek?"
"I'm hanging up."
"Don't you dare."
"Fox."
"Alex."
"Damn you."
"Maybe. When can I see you?"
"I can't get out of here for a day or two. Follow the instructions in the
Ferrari. Do you remember where you parked it?"
"Yeah."
"Your next car will be in the same spot. Lock the keys in the 'Rosa
tonight. The new ones will be delivered with breakfast tomorrow. Got it?"
"Got it. When can I see you?"
"Dammit, Fox. In a day or two."
"Promise me."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."
"You don't understand. There are things..."
"Promise me."
"Damn you, Mulder."
"Alex."
Fine. I promise, all right? Shit."
"I'll see you in a day or two."
"Yeah."
"Alex."
"I... Fox. Christ. I'll see you in a day or two."
"Thank you."
"I'm hanging up."
I have no idea how long I sat there, staring incredulously at the cell. I
heard the shower running, dimly. Whatever time it was, my room was a lot
brighter when Walter finally knocked.
