Work Text:
Mulder sits down, boots scraping across the fresh snow as his fingers grow numb and falter on the lighter. He watches bottle rockets explode in the sky above their lonely home, surrounded by fields empty of human touch. He closes his eyes and briefly thinks of sandcastles, of warm ocean water lapping at his feet. Opens his eyes and sees Scully watching him from the window, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. He’s not ready to go inside yet; he lets the cold seep further into his bones, and stares up at the stars trying their hardest to break through the spaces between the clouds.
There’s nothing but silence and undisturbed snow here, far from the city limits and its urban celebrations. There are no crowds, no people gathered together in the city square, huddled together on outstretched blankets to watch the fireworks. Here he is only joined by the bare trees that whisper in the wind, watchful eyes from inside their warm house. His toes are starting to go numb; the cold has seeped into his boots. He doesn’t want to know when the ball drops this year; he hates knowing that another year has gone by, alone in this cold field.
He imagines small, mittened hands wrapping around his numb fingers, a voice saying one more, just one more fountain, please, they’re my favorite! He smiles and ignores the tears freezing to his cheeks as he lights the last one and stumbles up and back, watching the neon pink and green blend together in front of him, whistling in the bitter cold air. Another year.