Coming Home
by Elizabeth Gerber

Rating: R--language, themes
Category: SA
Keywords: SLASH M/SK, hints of L/B, Character Death(not one of the
guys)
Spoilers: general myth-arc, SR-819
Summary: Two years after the Consortium's fall, Mulder returns to the
only home he has.

Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer, MulderTorture, Archive/X--yes, please.
Others just ask first.  Also found with a bookcover image at my fanfic
page: http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Chelsea/1334.
Feedback:  Yes, please, to elixia@mindspring.com.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted within belong to 1013, Fox and
Chris Carter.

Thanks: To m. butterfly for the courage to beta and to Kath who
encouraged me to depress you.
Note: This is not a happy story.  Please don't get mad at me if it
depresses you.  Also, sorry, no smut.
WARNING!!  This story contains affection between two men. Don't read
this if that bothers you.

^^^^^^^^^

When the end came, it came quickly.  

The Day came and went with most of the Earth's inhabitants having no
clue of its passing.  There was a malfunction in a satellite, an
explosion in space, they were told.  Other incidents were reported
around the world--flash fires, industrial accidents.  None of these
events will be connected, at least not in the foreseeable future.  

The only reason I, an Assistant Director of the FBI, know of these
connections is my involvement with some men at the heart of the
action.  The smoking man, Alex Krycek, and last but certainly not
least, Fox Mulder.  Even I don't know what truly transpired in those
few days when all of our fates hung in the balance.  All I know is
that the Consortium fell and the aliens apparently fled or left.  The
skies are silent and so is the earth.

The panic of the Consortium's falling caused a lot of old rats to come
running out of their holes, and they wreaked most of the damage.  They
took down the old guard. They tore apart whatever they could, and in
the mess, Scully was lost.  It wasn't a conspiracy or a chip or the
aliens.  It was a random bullet in her head during a clean-up
operation, and it was very fast.

After that, Mulder disappeared for a while.  He just left, vanished.
His work was done, but so was his partnership.  I know what it's like
for life to lose all meaning, and I saw that look in his eyes the last
time we spoke.  He was in the hallway of the Hoover, walking away from
me.  He was always walking away from me.

The next couple of years went by quickly.  I did what I could to help
clean up the Bureau in the wake of the Consortium's fall, and then I
retired.  There was little else to do.  I took on some consulting work
for private firms, and one day, returning home from a trip to the west
coast, I found him in my living room.  On my couch, just sitting
there, staring at his fingers, his hands in his lap.

Then he looked up at me.  He had come home.

^^^

That terrible day, I got the call that Scully was down.  I asked where
Mulder was, but no one had seen him since the ambulance had left with
her body.  He wasn't in his office, and he didn't answer his phone.  I
was en route to his apartment when my cell phone rang.

It was his friend Frohike.  Mulder was at their place, and maybe I
should come over.  The man's voice was thick, with a touch of panic.
I was there in ten minutes.

When I got there, I didn't know who looked worse.  Frohike had clearly
been crying, and I could smell alcohol on his breath as he let me into
the dark apartment.  Langly and Byers were sitting very close together
on the couch, their hands entwined.  They were silent and pale.  Their
eyes did not meet mine.

"Mulder?"  I hoped they knew what I meant because I couldn't seem to
formulate a more complex question.

"He's in my bedroom, man.  The one on the left."  Frohike pointed me
towards the smaller of two bedrooms in the place.  "Skinner?"

"Yeah?"

"I tried to take his gun, but he wouldn't let me."

I didn't need to hear any more.  I stepped over some newspapers and
pizza boxes and tried the doorknob.  It was locked.  I swore under my
breath and knocked, my ear to the door listening for sounds from
inside. 

"Mulder, would you let me in?  I need to talk to you."  I tried to
keep my emotions out of my voice.  My fear for him and my grief for
Scully fought for attention, but I pushed them back.  My mission was
to retrieve my agent, in one piece.  Another knock.  "Mulder?"

Finally, a tight voice came from behind the door.  "Sir, I just need
to be alone right now."  He was quiet for just a moment, and then I
heard, "Please?"

God, the man could get to me.  I took a deep breath and looked back at
Mulder's friends.  Frohike's head was down on the table.  Langly's
face was buried in Byers' shoulder, and Byers just stared back at me
like maybe I could fix everything.  I just shook my head and turned
back to the closed door.

"Mulder, would you please let me in?"  I was trying for a soothing
voice, but I think my tone belied the tension and sadness of the whole
situation.  When there was no answer from behind the door, I walked
over to where Frohike was sitting.  I think he was almost as upset as
Mulder, but I couldn't deal with that.  Mulder, Mulder had to be my
priority.

The man looked up when I stood in front of him.  "You must have
something to pick that lock."

"Shit, uh," he reached into a plastic crate at his feet.  "Here.
Sorry."

I just nodded and walked back to the door, knelt down and quickly
tricked the cylinder into turning.  I opened the door cautiously and
walked in to find Mulder sitting on the floor at the foot of a very
rumpled bed.  I sat down next to him and leaned my head back against
the mattress.

"Do I need to take your gun, Mulder?"  I managed to keep my voice
steady, a bit gruff.  To my extreme surprise, he handed his weapon
over.  After putting the safety on, I tucked it into the back of my
pants.  I took a breath and looked sideways at him.  "I am more sorry
than I can express about losing Agent Scully."

I couldn't keep my voice from falling apart a little at the end.  He
took a long shaky breath and finally spoke.  "Sorry.  Yeah.  Me too."
His words sounded like they'd been drawn over sand.  Over glass.

"I have to ask this, Mulder.  What were you doing in here with the
gun?"

He didn't even seem to mind telling me; he spoke almost
conversationally.  "I had it in my mouth.  It's just like sucking a
cock, you know, but cold, hard, dead.  It's a powerful feeling,
sitting there like that, imaging my brains all over poor Melvin's bed.
My whole life in the movement of one finger."

I didn't think I could breathe.  "What happened?"

He sighed.  "The flesh is stronger than the spirit.  My body insists
on another thirty, forty years.  There's nothing I can fucking do."

"I think I like what your body says."  He didn't respond, so I stood
up, stiffly.  "Mulder, I know you don't want to do this, but you're
needed at the office so everything can be taken care of, officially.
I'm sorry."

I hate saying I'm sorry.  I'd never said it so often in my life.  I
reached a hand down to Mulder, and he took it, let me pull him to his
feet.  We walked back out into the Gunmen's main room where Mulder
evaded the looks his friends were giving him.  He muttered, "Thanks
guys," undid the multitude of locks, and ducked out the door.  I
followed.

^^^

I drove him to the Hoover and delivered him to the room where OPR and
some other higher-ups had gathered to assess and wrap-up the tragedy
that was Agent Scully's death.  Under my warning glare, they asked
Mulder as few questions as possible.  He answered in a subdued voice,
and when they were finished he let me lead him to my office.

Kim had gone for the day, so we used the outer office area.  Mulder
slumped on the couch bonelessly for a moment and then leaned forward,
playing with his fingers.  I sat on Kim's desk, after carefully moving
some of her things from that corner.

"You can do whatever you want here.  You can keep the X-Files."  He
snorted in disgust, but I continued.  "You can transfer, teach, take
leave, whatever you want to do.  I will personally make sure it goes
through."

He covered his eyes and then stood up abruptly.  "No, I...  I lied,
you know, about the gun."

"You lied?"

"About why I didn't do it."  His words were rushing out, past all
barriers.  "I was going to do it because I thought everyone who I
loved, everyone who loved me, was dead."

"What changed you mind, Mulder?"

"You knocked on the door."

All I could think was Oh God, he knew.  He knew.  I reached my hand
out, but he moved away.

"No, see, no, it can't happen because they've taken everyone I've
loved.  My sister, my father, my mother. *Scully*.  I can't let them
take you."  

My heart hurt for him. He stood a few feet away from me, his movements
manic, barely controlled.  "Mulder, *they* are dead.  They can't hurt
you anymore."

He looked up at me, his eyes dark, glittering stones.  "I can't afford
to believe that.  More than that, I can't watch you die.  I won't.
I'm sorry."

He turned towards the door then and walked out into the hallway.  I
followed him, calling after him.  I caught up to him by the stairs,
and he stopped.

"Please, sir.  Walter.  I have to go.  Please understand."

I reached into the back of my pants and pulled out his weapon.
Wherever he was going, he'd need protection.  I held it out to him on
the open palm of my hand.  I thought I saw him move to take it, but
instead he placed his badge on top of the gun.

Before I could speak, he whispered, "Please don't follow me.  Don't
look for me."  I nodded silently, and he took off down the stairs.
The clanging of his rapid descent reverberated through the stairwell,
the cacophony echoing through me.  He was gone.

^^^

When I stepped into my dark apartment, I bit back the expected lines.
My surprise: My God, Mulder!  My anger: Where the hell have you been
Mulder?  The wordless joy that threatened to bring me to my knees.
Instead I walked into my kitchen and poured two glasses of scotch
without turning on the lights.

Stepping silently through my living room, I walked around the couch
and sat down next to him.  As I sat, I had to close my eyes.  I had to
give myself a moment to get used to his presence again.  

I opened my eyes, and there he was, on my couch in worn jeans and a
black turtleneck.  I offered him one of the glasses I held, and he
took it, swallowing nearly half of the amber liquid in one motion.  I
didn't like the pinched, thin look of his face or the shadows under
his eyes, the exhausted slump of his shoulders, but then his eyes met
mine, and it was pure Mulder.

In that moment I couldn't believe I had lasted nearly two years
without him.  Too many questions were backing up in my throat; I
couldn't swallow.  Finally, he spoke, breaking the long silence
between us.

"It's okay now.  They're all gone, I think.  Nobody will be after us."
His voice sounded stiff as though from disuse.  "I've made sure of
that."

"What do you mean?  Who's gone?"

"The smoking man.  Krycek.  Diana."  The last name held a particular
tang of bitterness.  "I spent some time up on the Vineyard.  At my
mom's place--and my dad's.  I went through everything, looking for
hints, clues, ideas of what to do.  I didn't find much.  Finally, I
took off to find them on my own, and the first one I wanted to find
was the smoker.

"Krycek had the same idea.  He wasn't too happy with the old boss-man,
it seems."  He flashed that smirk at me, and my breath caught in my
throat.  "I, uh, found Krycek at the smoking man's place, going
through his things.  The old man was already dead.  Still sitting in
his chair with a bullet hole through his head."

"He was really dead this time?" I asked softly.

"Yeah.  Definitely dead."  He swallowed audibly.  "So is Krycek.  I
killed him."

"Mulder?"

"I killed him.  Scully wasn't there to stop me, so I killed him with
his own fucking gun.  He won't be hurting you anymore."

I wasn't too...happy to learn he'd done this thing to protect me.
"Hurting me, Mulder?"

"Don't even pretend.  Please.  I know it was him with the nanocytes."

Shit.  "I, you didn't have to do that to protect me, Mulder."

He pressed his eyes closed painfully and covered them with his hand.
"It's fucking well already done, isn't it?"  He paused for a moment
while I tried to think of an appropriate response.  "Look, I'm sorry.
It's not like I didn't want the bastard dead for my own reasons."

"No, Mulder, I'm sorry.  I might have done the same thing myself."

"I burned the place.  Where the bodies were.  There shouldn't be much
evidence, and whatever there is will point to Krycek.  It's over."  He
laughed a little, sickly.  "It was after that I found Diana."

"What happened with her, Mulder?  Did you--"

"I didn't kill her.  I couldn't.  But I didn't save her either."

"What--"

"I really can't talk about that right now."  Suddenly he sounded close
to tears, and the dark of the room felt oppressive.  "You need to know
that I loved her once, but I didn't save her."

I reached out to touch his arm, expecting him to pull away, but he
leaned into my hand.  "You saved me, Mulder."  I winced at how
pathetic that sounded, and he just shook his head.

"I don't know.  Those things are still inside you.  I don't think
anyone else can control them, but it's always a possibility."

"You can't drive yourself crazy over possibilities."

"What else is there to do?"

"You can live your own life.  Do the best you can."

"That's what I've been trying to figure out how to do.  I went back up
home.  I went to the shore.  I stood in the ocean with the enormity of
the sea around me, holding me together.  I lay on the beach hoping
that the sun would remind how to feel the good things.  In the end, I
realized I just wanted to go home.  Not the places where my parents
had lived.  Home.  Not my apartment, which the guys cleaned out for me
anyway."

"Where did you go?"  I had to ask.  His eyes were burning at me
through the dim room.

He answered simply and quietly, "I came here."

"Oh God, Mulder.  I have missed you."  My chest was tight again, my
breath coming out in a small sob.

"Can you teach me how to do it?"

"What, miss you?"

"No, how to live.  With myself.  With...you?"

"I can try.  If you'll stay, we can try together."

"I'll stay.  I can't run anymore.  I'm just so tired."

"You can rest now.  Here, it's safe now."

He lowered his face into his hands again, and I moved down to the end
of the couch next to him.  I put my arms around him and felt his thin,
bony shoulders begin to shake beneath me.  In the evening chill of my
living room, he cried, maybe for the first time since her death.  I
don't know.

All I know is that I'm going to teach him how to live, even if it
takes the rest of our lives.  

He's come home.

^^^^^^^^^

Thanks for reading.  Feedback is welcomed at elixia@mindspring.com.