Weft -
Goodbyes
by Amirin
I think I sprained something, my head whipped around so damned fast at
Skinner's, "Is this seat taken?"
A new pair of binoculars was hanging around his neck and he sort of grinned
when he caught my look.
"Krycek?"
"Yeah."
"Nice."
He folded himself into the seat next to me, about as uncomfortable as I've
ever seen him. If it hadn't been Gretzky's last game, I would've offered to
leave.
"How are you?"
"Better than I expected to be, Sir. I know I haven't been keeping you
informed..."
"Krycek's been taking care of that."
"He thinks of everything. You should see the car he rented for me for the
next couple of days."
"Yeah? What?"
"Can you say 'Ferrari'?"
I found myself laughing at the look on his face and he shook his head in
bemusement.
"Where's he got you staying?"
"The Plaza."
"Damn, Mulder."
"King-sized suite."
"Christ."
"Playboy channel."
"Enough. Shit, enough."
"Are you the reason he made dinner reservations for two tonight?"
"Yeah. I guess so. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you until he gets back
in touch."
I should have been pissed off, but some little niggling thing was digging
into my head. Lots of niggling things, actually. Like the new cell phone.
The reservations under different names. Using cash only. All of it. I hadn't
even known I was hiding. I might have done a better job of it if I had.
"How much danger does he think I'm in?"
"I don't know, Mulder. Enough to bring me into whatever game he's
playing."
"He trusts you."
"I guess so. As far as you're concerned, anyway."
"Scares the shit out of you, doesn't it?"
"You got it."
"You've been drafted for guard duty." I shook my head, distracted as all
hell. Every move, carefully scripted and directed by Alex. Why?
"Mulder, do you know why he's doing this?"
I was caught by surprise, totally. The look on my face must've been
priceless.
"Sorry, usually he's the only one who can read my mind like that. And I
don't know why."
"He's got a reason."
"For everything."
"He didn't tell you?"
"Our conversations have been rather short. I'd ask why, he'd ask if I was
enjoying the ride."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. I am. He's been sending me all over hell and gone, but it's been...
good."
"Do you trust him?"
I was this close to snapping off the usual 'fuck, no' but something
stopped me. And my hesitation was telling.
"Dammit, Mulder."
"I don't... know. I mean, I shouldn't, I know I shouldn't. But, he
doesn't want me dead. He doesn't want me hurt. He's been protecting me from
god knows what. Or who."
"I've been getting some odd calls."
"Oh?"
"People wondering if you took all your time off to go... umm..."
"Rogue?"
"Something like that."
"They think Scully's death pushed me over the edge, is that it? What the
hell do they think I'm doing?"
"I don't know. But they know about St. Louis. They know about the tip."
"They don't know where it came from, though."
"No. But they called me wondering what sent you haring off to Vermont in
the middle of the night. And what I knew about it."
"And you were able to answer honestly that I hadn't been in touch with you
at all."
"You got it."
"Christ, he's a genius. What the hell's in Vermont?"
"He just said that there were locations that would be of interest to a man
of your... interests."
"Almost enough to make me want to go back there."
"Don't you even..."
He trailed off when he realized I was kidding and snorted.
"Fine. Whatever. Do you know where he'll be sending you, next?"
"No idea."
"But you'll go when he tells you to."
I couldn't for the life of me figure out the tone of his voice at that
comment. It wasn't challenging, wasn't angry. Resigned? Maybe.
"Probably, yeah."
"He said he tried to save Scully; he just got there too late."
"Could we not talk about that? Please?"
Whatever he heard in my voice got him to back off. Thankfully. He sighed
and took his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Sure, Mulder."
Somehow, while we were talking, the Rangers lost. The feeling in the place
changed drastically. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere, Gretzky was waving
to the crowd. I watched distantly as pictures were taken and he left. And
then he came back and they dimmed the lights.
Gretzky's last skate around the ice was devastating. I'd been watching this
guy play hockey since high school. Followed his career from Oxford. Watched a
countless number of games on tiny tv sets in dingy hotel rooms, all over the
country. A lot of them with Scully. She liked the Canadian teams. It was kind
of like taking home with us, wherever we went. A constant.
Some things just shouldn't ever have to end, you know?
I started the thought that Scully and I would never again watch Gretzky
skate or argue US versus Canadian over Chinese take-out.
And then I remembered.
And he was moving slowly on the ice, saying goodbye. And thank you. And he
looked right at me, I swear he did. And there were tears in his eyes. And on
his face.
And I thought that if he could cry at a final goodbye...
Damn it.
I knew Skinner was watching, but I couldn't help it. There weren't many dry
eyes anywhere in the house. But no one else was crying for the same reason I
was.
"This is goodbye."
"I know. It's okay to cry when the great ones leave, Mulder. It's okay."
Right before the last period, I got company. I wondered who was supposed
to be sitting next to me. Couldn't believe there'd be an empty seat, here.
Not tonight.
