Intro Info

Category: Slash, R for adult content and M/M
sexual situations.

Spoilers: Season 3, maybe.

Summary: Mulder/Krycek. Winter getaway.

Disclaimer: Chris Carter, 1013, and Fox own the
X-Files, not me.

This fic may disturb you.
I'm not kidding.

July 1999


Grokking In Fullness
by Halrloprillalar

I know Fox Mulder. I know him well. That wasn't
always the case though. Sure we'd worked
together, worked against each other, beaten each
other up, that sort of thing. But that could be
anybody. You have to take time if you want to
get to know someone. And I wanted to know Mulder
more than anything. So that's what I did.

I was pretty sure he'd take some coaxing, so I
prepared very carefully. What we needed was some
time alone together -- a winter getaway. We
could both use the time off, that was certain.
So, why not take a vacation together? I knew
just the place. No phones, no neighbours to
bother us. Just me and Mulder, relaxing.

It took time to make the arrangements -- I
wanted everything to be just so. So, I laid in
supplies, carefully planning all the menus in
advance. We'd have books and movies, too, but
not too many. This was supposed to be quality
time, after all. Extra clothes for both of us,
good wine and spirits, and a few other things I
thought we'd need.

Everything was ready. Time to pick up Mulder. I
broke into his apartment. When he came home, I
put a gun to his head and dragged him out to the
car. The trip to the airport didn't take long --
it wasn't rush hour. There, the helicopter I'd
chartered took us out the base of a mountain,
where we'd hike to my secluded cabin. He'd be
back to pick us up in a month.

Mulder was really upset. I felt hurt -- here I'd
gone to all this trouble to surprise him and he
was angry with me. "You're really tense,
Mulder," I said. "You'll have a chance to unwind

He wouldn't speak to me, though, just stalked up
the mountain. As soon as we got to the cabin, he
went into the bedroom and slammed the door. He
didn't come out for dinner. I slept on the
couch. Hopefully, that state of affairs wouldn't
last long.

The scent of coffee lured him out in the
morning. I make very good coffee, even if I do
say so myself. I was scrambling some eggs too,
with mushrooms and bacon. He couldn't resist it,
although he still wasn't happy about being at
the cabin with me. I tried to make light
conversation, but he still gave me the silent
treatment. Much work was ahead of me, that was

My mother always said that the way to a man's
heart is through his stomach. So, I outdid
myself with the cooking and Mulder ate it all.
Lunch, supper, a couple of snacks. I don't think
he was eating properly at home.

It took a few days of plying him with food and
drink, but finally he started to talk to me. At
first it was only chat and "do you remember?"
but late one night he really opened up to me. He
talked about his sister, about his quest, about

The moment was right. I'd been wanting to tell
him something for a long time. "Mulder," I said,
"I'm sorry I killed your father."

He looked at me, so sad and so brave. "That's
OK, Krycek. It's just that...I felt a little
cheated. I wanted to do it myself."

I reached out to touch him, but he pulled away.
Still, it was a good beginning.

The next day was bright and sunny. I cajoled him
into taking a walk with me. The air was crisp
and clean. Back by the cabin, we had a snowball
fight and fell together into the drifts. That
night I didn't sleep on the couch.

Things were progressing just as I had hoped.
Each day, we played and laughed and cooked lazy
meals together. Each evening, we built a fire
and drank slow whiskey and talked the flames to
embers. Each night, we shuddered into bliss in
each other's arms. I knew Mulder and was known.

It was the perfect life.

Then, late in the third week, we woke to a
terrible rumble. Avalanche. It rolled down the
mountain and crashed right over us. The cabin is
well-built on a strong foundation. There was no
damage. But we were trapped. We dug out a small
area around the front door and that was all we
could manage.

The situation was grave, though I didn't let on
to Mulder. No need to worry him yet. We had
enough wood that we wouldn't freeze -- the snow
covering the cabin was a great insulator so we
were really quite toasty. But the food wouldn't
last until spring. I started rationing it a

Mulder seemed to enjoy the peril, actually. He
seemed energised and cheerful. And our
lovemaking was even more fiery than before. In
adversity, we pulled together, became closer.
Talked more deeply about our relationship, about
our hopes and dreams.

After the fifth week, things were bad. I tried
to hide my feelings, but Mulder sensed my
depression and tried to cheer me. He was caring,
gentle, and I told him again and again how much
I loved him. He shone, luminous against my own

That night there was a meteor shower and we went
outside to watch it. So many shooting stars, so
many wishes. I stood behind him, pressed up to
his back, my arms around him. We were so happy.
I kissed his cheek; he sighed, contented. I cut
his throat and drained the blood out into the

Over five weeks more, I ate all of him --
prepared the meat with the same care I had
lavished on his living body. The flavour was
strong and a little sweet. I made his favourite
casserole and thought of him as I ate it. I
broke open his bones and rendered the marrow. It
was creamy, like butter. There was a little
bread yet to spread it on. Through that dark
time, Mulder kept me fed and well. At last, I
knew him completely.

Then the snow melted and I hiked out. I couldn't
take much with me, but I saved three of his
finger bones. I wear them always now, on a thong
around my neck. I like to know he's near me.

I love him so. I know he loves me too.



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