NOT THIS YEAR
Author: Nadia (ScullyMinusTheSkepticism)
Rating: PG
Summary: Alex, Mama Krycek, and Mulder reflect on X-mas problems.
Disclaimer: Fox, Alex, and Dana are not my creations, etc.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"...But there are some things in life that are not meant to be
I'm not meant for you, and you're not meant for me
Here's to our problems and here's to our fights
Here's to our achings and here's to your having
A good life, from me...
...Now I'm regretting the moves that I made
Fatal mistakes are so easily made
Enough of my problems they only cause fights
Forget that I ran you and promise that you'll have
Such a beautifully happy and painlessly romantic...
Good life, from me
Good life...." -GOOD LIFE, Francis Dunnery
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hospital walls grow so dull after so many hours of
staring at them. The ceiling grows bleak and all of
the tiles run together. The flowers next to the bed
start a long wilting process. Even the television no
longer offers the enlightenment it once did. I look
at all of these things and wonder, if they were
looking back at me, would they be saying the same
disheartening things about my condition?
The lightbulb above me is dim. It makes me feel at
home, and somehow homesick at the same time. I see
him enter out of the corner of my eye, and I realize
that I do not need the struggling lightlbulb. His
cautious smile is enough of a light to make my ailing
heart leap and my hands somehow gain the strength to
reach up to him. He approaches my bed, a fresh rose
in his hand. He looks down upon me with the most
beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. I have not seen
them in years, and did not, until now, realize how
much I missed them.
He sets the rose in the nearby vase, and I wondered if
that living rose would help revive the ones that were
depressed. Like he could help revive me. He kept his
leather jacket on as he pulled a chair close to the
bed. "Mama," he says, gazing at me in concern. He
has his father's eyes, and his hair is wet from the
snow outside. I look out the window, at the raging
storm.
"Alexei..." my cracked voice chuckles, and I say in
Russian, "You must care about your Mama, to come see
me in this weather."
Alex nods, taking my wrinkled hand in his
leather-gloved one. "How are you?"
I smile sadly. "Oh, Alexei...Mama is dying."
He knows this, of course. I do not know how he knew I
am here in the hospital, or what I am sick with, but I
can tell he knows I'm dying. As if he's seen it a million times. I
don't plan to ask. Any unnecessary word is a wasted word when so few
important ones have the time to be spoken.
He nods and squeezes my hand. "I am here, Mama. I
will stay with you."
There is so much going on behind those green eyes! I
can decipher very little of it. He looks cold,
hungry, and tired. "Do not worry for me, my son.
Worry about yourself." I looked him up and down
critically. When had he gotten so thin? He looked
back at me, maybe trying to figure out what my
thoughts were of him. He looked too happy to be
holding onto his dying mama's hand; it was like he
needed someone to care for him. He was allowing me to
leave, it seemed, but he didn't want me to.
"Alexei..." I sighed heavily, "Don't you have somebody
you care about?" The hungry way he seemed to need
someone to hang onto, someone to encourage, someone to
cheer for, someone to love...Did not he have some
lovely young girl back in America? Maybe we should
have stayed in Russia, I began to think. No Russian
woman would be able to resist the beauty that was my
son; I wondered how any American woman ever could,
either.
He considered my words. "I have someone I care about,
but...We don't get along. I do many, many things for
them, but they don't realize it."
I smiled and patted his hand. "They do not realize it yet. They
will."
Alex sighed, hanging his head close to his chest.
"Yeah...Yeah, Mama." He looked back up at me, deep in
thought, looking to my eyes but somehow past them,
into some other deep world.
"Will you promise me something, Alexei?" I ask, still
resting my hand on his.
He nods. "Anything, Mama."
I close my eyes for a moment. "I want you..." I
begin, and open my eyes, "To go home. I want you to
spend Christmas with this person you care for."
He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Shush, Mama, no. I'm
staying here with you."
I shook my head. "You listen to your Mama, now. I
want you to fly back to America. I want you to at
least see this person. I will be gone soon, Alexei,
and I've accepted it. But this person...they are not
gone. They are very much alive, and I want you to be
near them and be happy. I love you, Alexei. Please
be happy."
I drop his hand, turn to my side, and feign sleep.
I hear footsteps retreat and I turn slightly toward
the door. He's looking back at me. "Go, Alexei," I
say, with a nudge of my hand.
He smiles at me. "Merry Christmas, Mama."
I turn back around, smiling, and close my eyes. And
to you, Alexei. You may have had some tough times in
the past, but you'd better not have one this
Christmas. Not this year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I stood oustide of his apartment building, the cold
snow and wind freezing my face as I looked up at his
window. I knew it was his because of the masking tape
X. I smiled. That was Fox. I hadn't seen him in
months. It was nice to know that some things never
change.
I couldn't bring myself to climb the stairs to his
apartment. I didn't want the rejection, or the likely
head injury, I'd receive. But I found myself more
worried about him: If the rat bastard showed up, it would ruin
his Christmas. I sighed and looked up at the sky.
Sorry, Mama, I thought.
I turned and walked back to my car, leaving footsteps
in the snow that led away from his building. Led away
from Fox Mulder. Led away from any courage I'd built up
since leaving the hospital and Russia. I just
couldn't do this to him. Not this year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I walked to the window, wondering if Scully was on her
way yet. There was a tree, presents, and wine all
ready to share a nice Christmas with her. She
deserved it.
I peered through one of the 'V's created by the
masking tape X, looking for the familiar red hair. I
saw a retreating black figure and tensed up. What was
he doing here?
I watched Krycek get into his car and pull out of the
parking lot slowly. I sighed, and as if Krycek could
hear it, said to the window frame, "Merry Christmas,
you rat bastard." A small smile crossed my lips as I
saw Scully coming up the walk only seconds after
Alex's car had driven away. This would be a great
Christmas, and thankfully, Alex Krycek had no
intentions of bothering them, ruining their holiday
fun and cheer. Not this year.
END
Author: Nadia (ScullyMinusTheSkepticism)
Rating: PG
Summary: Alex, Mama Krycek, and Mulder reflect on X-mas problems.
Disclaimer: Fox, Alex, and Dana are not my creations, etc.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"...But there are some things in life that are not meant to be
I'm not meant for you, and you're not meant for me
Here's to our problems and here's to our fights
Here's to our achings and here's to your having
A good life, from me...
...Now I'm regretting the moves that I made
Fatal mistakes are so easily made
Enough of my problems they only cause fights
Forget that I ran you and promise that you'll have
Such a beautifully happy and painlessly romantic...
Good life, from me
Good life...." -GOOD LIFE, Francis Dunnery
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Hospital walls grow so dull after so many hours of
staring at them. The ceiling grows bleak and all of
the tiles run together. The flowers next to the bed
start a long wilting process. Even the television no
longer offers the enlightenment it once did. I look
at all of these things and wonder, if they were
looking back at me, would they be saying the same
disheartening things about my condition?
The lightbulb above me is dim. It makes me feel at
home, and somehow homesick at the same time. I see
him enter out of the corner of my eye, and I realize
that I do not need the struggling lightlbulb. His
cautious smile is enough of a light to make my ailing
heart leap and my hands somehow gain the strength to
reach up to him. He approaches my bed, a fresh rose
in his hand. He looks down upon me with the most
beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen. I have not seen
them in years, and did not, until now, realize how
much I missed them.
He sets the rose in the nearby vase, and I wondered if
that living rose would help revive the ones that were
depressed. Like he could help revive me. He kept his
leather jacket on as he pulled a chair close to the
bed. "Mama," he says, gazing at me in concern. He
has his father's eyes, and his hair is wet from the
snow outside. I look out the window, at the raging
storm.
"Alexei..." my cracked voice chuckles, and I say in
Russian, "You must care about your Mama, to come see
me in this weather."
Alex nods, taking my wrinkled hand in his
leather-gloved one. "How are you?"
I smile sadly. "Oh, Alexei...Mama is dying."
He knows this, of course. I do not know how he knew I
am here in the hospital, or what I am sick with, but I
can tell he knows I'm dying. As if he's seen it a million times. I
don't plan to ask. Any unnecessary word is a wasted word when so few
important ones have the time to be spoken.
He nods and squeezes my hand. "I am here, Mama. I
will stay with you."
There is so much going on behind those green eyes! I
can decipher very little of it. He looks cold,
hungry, and tired. "Do not worry for me, my son.
Worry about yourself." I looked him up and down
critically. When had he gotten so thin? He looked
back at me, maybe trying to figure out what my
thoughts were of him. He looked too happy to be
holding onto his dying mama's hand; it was like he
needed someone to care for him. He was allowing me to
leave, it seemed, but he didn't want me to.
"Alexei..." I sighed heavily, "Don't you have somebody
you care about?" The hungry way he seemed to need
someone to hang onto, someone to encourage, someone to
cheer for, someone to love...Did not he have some
lovely young girl back in America? Maybe we should
have stayed in Russia, I began to think. No Russian
woman would be able to resist the beauty that was my
son; I wondered how any American woman ever could,
either.
He considered my words. "I have someone I care about,
but...We don't get along. I do many, many things for
them, but they don't realize it."
I smiled and patted his hand. "They do not realize it yet. They
will."
Alex sighed, hanging his head close to his chest.
"Yeah...Yeah, Mama." He looked back up at me, deep in
thought, looking to my eyes but somehow past them,
into some other deep world.
"Will you promise me something, Alexei?" I ask, still
resting my hand on his.
He nods. "Anything, Mama."
I close my eyes for a moment. "I want you..." I
begin, and open my eyes, "To go home. I want you to
spend Christmas with this person you care for."
He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Shush, Mama, no. I'm
staying here with you."
I shook my head. "You listen to your Mama, now. I
want you to fly back to America. I want you to at
least see this person. I will be gone soon, Alexei,
and I've accepted it. But this person...they are not
gone. They are very much alive, and I want you to be
near them and be happy. I love you, Alexei. Please
be happy."
I drop his hand, turn to my side, and feign sleep.
I hear footsteps retreat and I turn slightly toward
the door. He's looking back at me. "Go, Alexei," I
say, with a nudge of my hand.
He smiles at me. "Merry Christmas, Mama."
I turn back around, smiling, and close my eyes. And
to you, Alexei. You may have had some tough times in
the past, but you'd better not have one this
Christmas. Not this year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I stood oustide of his apartment building, the cold
snow and wind freezing my face as I looked up at his
window. I knew it was his because of the masking tape
X. I smiled. That was Fox. I hadn't seen him in
months. It was nice to know that some things never
change.
I couldn't bring myself to climb the stairs to his
apartment. I didn't want the rejection, or the likely
head injury, I'd receive. But I found myself more
worried about him: If the rat bastard showed up, it would ruin
his Christmas. I sighed and looked up at the sky.
Sorry, Mama, I thought.
I turned and walked back to my car, leaving footsteps
in the snow that led away from his building. Led away
from Fox Mulder. Led away from any courage I'd built up
since leaving the hospital and Russia. I just
couldn't do this to him. Not this year.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I walked to the window, wondering if Scully was on her
way yet. There was a tree, presents, and wine all
ready to share a nice Christmas with her. She
deserved it.
I peered through one of the 'V's created by the
masking tape X, looking for the familiar red hair. I
saw a retreating black figure and tensed up. What was
he doing here?
I watched Krycek get into his car and pull out of the
parking lot slowly. I sighed, and as if Krycek could
hear it, said to the window frame, "Merry Christmas,
you rat bastard." A small smile crossed my lips as I
saw Scully coming up the walk only seconds after
Alex's car had driven away. This would be a great
Christmas, and thankfully, Alex Krycek had no
intentions of bothering them, ruining their holiday
fun and cheer. Not this year.
END