Santa Claus.com
by kaNd
Spoilers: takes place a few months after "The Red and the Black"
Pairing: M, K Christmas, truce
Disclaimer: I don't own them, but let's do as if. No infringment intended, blah blah.
Rated: E.
Author's Notes: this is for Janice, her 'Secret Santa' for Dec. 18, 2004
Beta: thanks a lot to our dear Sue who made a quick job of reforming my clumsy English!
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My Wish List to Santa Claus
Please enter your e-mail
Your age?
Your gender?
Choose a nickname
Male...... Female......
Now, you can tell Santa Claus about your wish!
Oh, shit! For once, I'd like to have a real Xmas. You know, safe, quiet, a fine dinner, a shot of vodka, watching a movie. With somebody. Not alone, you see. No paid company, just a... friend? smirk Okay, you're Santa, right? You can work miracles? Send HIM. With dinner and all the trimmings.
With a shrug, Alex selected the submit button and clicked.
Your list has been sent to Santa Claus! Watch your mailbox. You'll receive an answer soon. Thank you for using Santa Claus.com Services.
"Sure," Alex told his laptop's screen. The things one does surfing the Internet when one is bored to death, not to mention toasted. One more descent into banality, and he would be answering quizzes. "What kind of cold-blood killer are you?"
With a slightly shaking hand, he searched for the Absolut bottle on his right but when he drew it close to his reddened eyes, he found it empty. Weird, lot of things in his life looked empty right then. He fought the impulse to send the bottle crashing against the nearest wall, house-cleaning wasn't his favourite hobby. Instead he let it fall in the paper-basket, shut his laptop and stood up on unsure legs.
He checked mechanically the locks and survey equipment before reaching his bed. He fell like a dead weight on the duvet and was glad for his bare feet ; he felt far too lazy to take his boots off.
Santa Claus. Right. It would call for more than a fucking miracle to have his wish come true. Last time he saw 'him', it had been to make an offer of peace, but he had had no news nor any answer since that strange night. Agent Mulder was back to his routine investigations, as if nothing had happened. Had he believed, even for a short while, that the War of the Worlds had really started? Well, if Fox didn't move his ass soon, he'd know quickly enough it was no crap.
Alex let out a loud sigh, and closed his eyes, to find the world swirling in the most uncomfortable way. Either he was growing too old for all that shit, or he'd overestimated his resistance to alcohol. He wasn't that used to drink, dangerous in his field.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
One week later
Krycek stared amazed. He had a message in his goban@aol.com mailbox. From Santa Claus. Yup.
Dear whatzefuck,
Santa Claus is glad to announce he'll be able to fulfill your wish. Please stay home on Christmas Eve. You'll receive first a special delivery around 6pm.
Please don't shoot our elf on duty.
He stared at the last sentence. Not the kind of request you usually expect from Santa Claus. Either that, or this one knew his customer very well.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Dec. 24, 610 pm
He looked up from his paperback as the doorbell rang. Krycek stood up swiftly and checked the Glock at his back. He glanced through the peep-hole and saw a teenager, his cheeks all red from the cold outside, his head covered in a green bonnet tagged "Santa Claus.com". The announced elf was waiting patiently, gazing at a delivery receipt, one hand resting on a vertical parcel some four feet high.
After a short hesitation, Alex unlocked the door and opened it wide.
"Mr, huh, Korsakov?", the boy sniffed, his nose starting to run.
Krycek nodded.
"Santa Claus.com Services. This is your delivery. You must have received an e-mail telling you about it, one week ago."
"That's right. What is it?"
The youngster studied the pink paper once more. "M' sorry, this says nothing about it. Santa's Surprise, that's all." He looked up at the tall dark man. "That's a frequent occurrence, Sir. People send mystery gifts to their friends, you know. Can you sign here, please?"
The elf in jeans and anorak handed him the pink paper and a marker, indicating where to sign. Krycek complied, and searching his pants pocket, he took out a banknote to give to the boy.
"Thank you, Sir! Have a merry Christmas, Sir!"
"Same to you, boy," Alex answered, before taking the parcel and closing the door behind him.
He brought the package cautiously to the table in the living room, and put it down very softly. He crossed the room towards his desk and opened a drawer from which he took a small electronic device. Back at the main table, he turned the detector on and carefully checked the parcel, inch by inch, on every side. The LED remained green as the elf's bonnet.
Putting the detector down on the table, Alex drew up a chair and sat down, thoughtfully. What the hell... And how had "Santa Claus" found his address? His mailbox was safely encrypted and his Internet connection was anything but transparent. Maybe the content of the package would tell more...
Despite the light goose pimples raising on his naked forearms, Krycek attacked the brown paper which gave up without trouble. The cardboard parcel under it was decorated with golden stars and a flashing, coloured label, which read, "Santa Claus Surprise. From ..." - "A friend" had been added by an anonymous hand.
Alex frowned and decided against all odds that, maybe, somewhere, somebody felt friendly enough to send him a non-lethal gift. He peeled the adhesive tape off and opened the cardboard. A green, resinous smell came to his nostrils. It was a fresh cut Christmas tree. With ornaments.
Krycek's eyebrows raised in amazement. It looked too sophisticated to be a trap! He extracted the small tree, handling it carefully so he wouldn't break anything - there were little objects, glass balls, lengths of tinsel, faery lights... He put down the tree on the table to have a closer look at it. The decoration was subtle and elegant. He noted that at the top, in the middle of the star, a tiny orthodox icon showing a Madonna with child was enshrined. Shaking his head, the Russian looked inside the cardboard, but there was nothing else save a few lost green needles and tinsel pieces.
Alex took the empty package and paper to the kitchen. He thought of washing his sticky hands, but changed his mind. It had been years since he had touched a Christmas tree, and the resinous smell brought a flow of memories to his mind. He found himself smiling in the middle of his neat kitchen.
Back to the living room, he searched for a better place to install *his* tree and voted for a low table close to the TV set. He pushed back the idea of checking further the electric faery lights system, and just plugged it in. The tiny lamps shone at once, multicoloured, their soft glow soon turning into a sweet, blinking dance.
Alex walked back a few steps to admire the view. He felt a pang at his heart. Whoever this "friend" was, had put his (her?) nail on it. Even if this was the only miracle Santa Claus was to bring this year, it made the atmosphere lighter and somehow, the future of a lesser darkness.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The same day, 8 pm
The doorbell ringing startled Alex from his daydreaming. Snow had begun to fall outside, illuminating the night, and he realized he had remained in contemplation of his small tree for more than an hour. He stood up, stretching his numb legs, and made his way towards the door. A quick glance through the peep-hole made him gasp. He drew his gun from his waistband before unlocking.
On the threshold stood a widely smiling Special Agent Mulder, his arms loaded with tall brown paperbags. He was wearing a brilliant red Santa Claus bonnet, too. Complete with white fur and pompon, and a few snowflakes.
Krycek, still holding his gun raised, stepped backwards.
"Mulder? What the fuck ..."
"Yeah, you could have chosen a less offensive nickname when addressing Santa Claus, Krycek."
Alex gestured Mulder in and directed him to the couch with gestures of the Glock. The Fed shrugged and managed to sit down without spilling the contents of his bags.
"Is this how you welcome Santa Claus? Were you such a bad boy last year that you're afraid of what he may bring to you?" Mulder asked.
"C'mon, Mulder, this is no joke. How did you find my address? And what the hell are you doing here in this... disguise?"
"But, my dear whatzefuck, Santa Claus told you he would fulfill your Christmas wish, didn't he?" As Krycek looked perfectly puzzled, Mulder added, "Okay, maybe I'm not the HIM you asked to visit you, but at least I'm bringing dinner, vodka and a movie."
"You... you...," stammered Krycek. "You bring... Oh shit, Mulder, how did you find this address? How did you find out about that stupid e-mail?"
"Stupid? I wouldn't say so; I was going to write the same. So I thought it would be a good idea. You know, Christmas truce, and so on."
As Krycek was still holding him at gun-point, the Fed shrugged. "Okay, I agree you're entitled to some explanation. But you can put your gun down, there's nothing dangerous in these bags, and believe it or not, this" - he indicated his red bonnet - "is my only weapon tonight."
"First let's hear the explanation, can we? And let me be the only judge of what can be hazardous to my health."
"Okay. Three weeks ago, the Lone Gunmen came to me with an item of definitely interesting info. So well documented and so reliable, that the four of us wondered, not for the first time, who was their very discreet informant. He was someone who changed contact each time, just a code to identify him, if one can call that identifying. Langley was growing more and more upset at not being able to track this mysterious correspondent, so he decided to make a really, really thorough search."
Krycek cocked his head, biting his lower lip.
"And you know Langley. Nothing and nobody can resist him when there's the smallest hint to follow. So he cracked first the Internet connection, then he found the addy. And I followed the track. My, my, my, what a surprise!"
"You did follow me?", barked the Russian.
"Yes, tovarich. I'm as much a professional as yourself."
"And this explains... all that?", Alex asked, with a broad gesture that took in the bags, the bonnet and the tree.
"Ah, did you love my tree?"
"Well, for a while I thought it came from a friend. I'm disappointed."
"C'mon, Alex. I know now that some of the best clues I got these past months came directly from you. A most authorized source, obviously. And I learned enough during my investigations into what you told me, at my apartment, to realise this starting war and the Resistance, was anyything but a lie."
"You investigated? Following my info?" Krycek looked perplexed.
"Yes, I did. Discreetly. Unofficially. How else could have I done it? I realized soon enough that the best solution for each of us - for all of us - would be for me to work with you. But I didn't know where to find you. Till now."
Krycek stared at Mulder for a long while. Then he engaged the safety of his gun and secured the weapon back into his waistband.
"Okay, Mulder, I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play here, but if you swear you're not going to hit me..."
Mulder raised two fingers, "Scout's honour!"
"... then I suppose we should take all this to the kitchen." He pointed at the paperbags.
"Sure! Some are to go in the fridge, some into the oven. If I remember old times and our partnership, you know how to use them far better than me."
"Not that it was ever difficult," Alex smirked. "C'mon, let me help you with that."
The two men made their way to the kitchen, carrying the heavy bags. Krycek started emptying them and smiled at the sight of a whole pack of Valhrona bars. He put the ice-cream dessert in the freezer, read the instructions on the various parcels before putting some in the oven, others in the fridge. Then he arranged the canaps on a stainless steel dish and gave Mulder plates and cutlery. Finally he extracted a golden parcel with a bright red ribbon, but at that the older man stopped him.
"Not yet, this one is for after we have dinner and a little talk."
"Fine. So let's begin with the vodka and starters, I'm bringing glasses." Krycek followed Mulder back to the living room and helped them each to a good shot whilst the Fed set the table.
"That's a very nice tree, Mulder. Thank you."
"Thank to you too, Alex, for letting me share."
Krycek couldn't help noticing that his former partner and usual nemesis had called him by his first name for the second time this evening. He sat down and held his glass out to Mulder.
Mulder smiled and raised his glass too. "To the future," he toasted.
"To the future as we'll make it," Alex answered. Mulder held his stare and nodded. They silently began to eat their starters, observing each other, Mulder with a smile, Krycek with curiosity. When the oven's beeper sounded, the Russian stood up to serve.
The dinner passed swiftly, with small talk, each man avoiding serious matters. They fell slowly back into the routine they had known as partners, and to his relief Krycek found Mulder quite relaxed. He himself felt cosier, too. When dessert had been served and Champagne sparkled in twin flutes, he decided it was time to lay his cards on the table.
"Mulder, I really thank you for all this. I didn't think you could..." He shut up, embarrassed.
"Treat you as a human?" Mulder offered.
That was blunt, but Krycek wasn't thin-skinned. "Yes," he admitted abruptly. "I'm glad you found my clues useful. Do you think you could work seriously on them now?"
"Absolutely. But I need your help for that." Under Krycek's somewhat defiant look, he added, "I'm not trying to hoodwink you, Alex. I'm sincere. I'm perfectly convinced now that everything you told me months ago was true. Through my own inquiries, I've learned more about your recent actions that you may think. Blowing up the lab in Colorado almost certainly caused Spender to swallow his Morley and lighter all together. And rescuing those poor guys they used as guinea-pigs in Columbia..."
Krycek put down his flute with a shaking hand. "So, you... you really know?"
"Yes, Alex, I do. And that's why I'm offering you, no, I'm asking you for, not a truce, but a partnership. We know we can work together, we already did, and we were good at it, right?"
"Huh... right." Trying to regain control, Kryeck stammered, "Hey, can I... can I open my gift now?"
"Sure, Alex!"
The Russian stood up and went to the kitchen to retrieve the golden box. Holding it firm with his shiny left hand, he undid the ribbon and tore the paper open. The transparent box held a cute fluffy mouse. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Mulder. The Fed smiled and nodded his encouragment.
Krycek opened the box and took out the toy, noticing the "Press Me" label stuck under the left rear paw.
"I don't think this can be a bomb?", he tried to joke.
"Collective suicide?" retorted Mulder. "Naah. I wouldn't waste such good Champagne, and the bottle isn't finished yet. Go on, Alex."
The younger man hesitantly pressed on the mouse's paw, and a synthetic voice let itself be heard.
"Mulder trusts Alex. Mulder trusts Alex. Mulder trusts Alex. I said it thrice, so it's true! Merry Christmas!!!"
Krycek kept brushing the little fluffy toy. Biting his lower lip, he stammered again, "Don't tell me you brought the 'It's a Wonderful Life' DVD?"
Mulder looked shocked. "Of course not! It's 'The Nightmare Before Christmas'."
"Phew," Krycek sighed. "At last! Something normal."
End
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