And he stumbled fell lay sprawled on the pavement blood seeping from
his scraped cheek not getting up not wanting to Jesus all he wanted was
to rest just for one fucking minute was that too much to ask—
But he couldn't and he knew he couldn't had to get up had to get up
now—
And he got up and ran and kept running until he saw it saw his car
right where he'd left it—
And got in slumping over the wheel fumbling in his pocket for his
keys Jesus he couldn't believe it couldn't believe he'd done it put a gun
right up against a man's head and pulled the trigger—
And he jammed the key in the ignition twisted it relief surging through
him as the engine spurted started gunned—
The dashboard clock flashing "12:00" over and over—
And he snapped awake, sitting bolt upright, an icy fist gripping his
throat, heart pumping, jerking like a cracked piston—
God, he hadn't had a nightmare like that since...
Since he'd arrived in Hong Kong, since... had it really been five months
ago? Funny, but he usually slept like the dead—when he managed to sleep
at all. Jesus, just being awake in this fucking city was nightmare enough...
He sucked in air, long and deep and slow, closing his eyes until he
was sure he could look around without his vision ghosting. One glance at
soft fingers of sunlight streaming in through plain white curtains, at
pretty, nondescript pictures of flowers hanging there on cream-colored
walls and he remembered where he was, not Hong Kong, not anymore—
D.C. A hotel near Dulles Airport, where he'd checked in last night with—
"Alex?" He felt a hand reaching up, fingertips stroking his arm, his
shoulder. "You okay?" asked a groggy, scratchy voice.
Mulder's voice. Mulder's eyes, rich, bottomless hazel gazing up at him,
heavy-lidded, clouded with drowsiness and concern—
"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, sliding back down, dropping onto his pillow
with a sigh, darting a look at the clock-radio on the bedside table. Ten
after six. "Go on back to sleep. It's early yet..."
But he'd no sooner rolled onto his side when he felt an arm draping
around his waist, pulling him close, his back to Mulder's front, spooning
them together, Mulder's chin hooked over his shoulder, Mulder's mouth close to his ear, soft breath tickling his skin. He
stiffened a moment, then gave himself permission to relax. It felt good,
this gentle, easy intimacy they'd drifted into all of a sudden, so he might
as well enjoy it...
Until he had to get on that plane to Toronto later today—
No, he wouldn't think about that now...no sense in borrowing tomorrow's
misery any sooner than he had to...
They snuggled, warm, floating in that wonderful, hazy half-world between
sleep and wakefulness where time dissolved into ether...
He remembered the previous night, a tiny smile curving his lips. They'd
checked in, gone down to the hotel restaurant for dinner—both of them
ravenous from fifteen hours in the air and no dinner the night before in
Hong Kong—and then came back up to the room and held each other like
this, flipping channels on the TV, too wired for sleep, too tired for sex,
finally collapsing, giving in to the inevitable sometime around three or
four a.m. Neither of them had minded, though; right now all that mattered was being together...
It wasn't the sunlight that woke him up again, though it was much brighter
now, more golden—
No, it was something else, something very warm and solid and insistent
pressing into the small of his back, making him grin—
Something very wet, then very sharp teasing, biting his earlobe, making
him jump, shudder—
Fingertips tickling his belly, sliding lower, closing around his shaft,
cupping, caressing—
"I'll, um...give you 'bout half an hour to stop that," he groaned.
"What makes you think I'll wait that long?" Mulder murmured, giving
what he was holding a little squeeze for emphasis—
Shifting slightly, rubbing his own erection against the cleft of Alex's
ass—
"Jesus..." Alex hissed, wriggling now, back arching, "you're not playing
fair—"
And in the next second, he found himself flipped over onto his back,
staring up at Mulder's grinning face swooping down for a kiss, tongues
meeting, duelling, delving deep...
He'd almost forgotten how to breathe by the time Mulder drew back, smug
triumph glinting gold in his eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"
"Y-you bastard..."
"See if you say that in a couple minutes." And he dived, down to the
curve of Alex's throat, lips, tongue tracing every millimeter of silky,
heated hollow there, following the line of his collarbone up and over to
his shoulder—
Then, finally, down to the flat smoothness of his chest, nipping, suckling
each hardening nipple in turn, rolling them between his fingertips—
Kissing, licking a wet path lower, tongue flicking, darting into Alex's
navel, just once, just enough to make him gasp and writhe—
"Y-you're s-still a bastard..."
"D'you want me to stop?" he asked, glancing up even as he slid lower,
resting one warm cheek against Alex's thigh, close enough for him to feel
the soft, maddening whisper of breath wafting, tickling the tip of his
own erection. "I will if you tell me to—"
"Fuck you, Mulder—"
"Unh-uh, my turn this time..." And he started kissing, nuzzling, biting
the sensitized skin on the inside of Alex's thigh, holding his legs apart
with both hands, gently, insistently working his way higher—
Starbursts exploding inside Alex's head as he felt Mulder's tongue painting
a squiggly, languorous stripe up the underside of his shaft, lingering
at the tip to suck and nibble, teasing the tiny slit there until it wept—
Engulfing him finally, taking him as deeply as he could with his first
lunge, teeth rasping, dragging slightly on the upstroke—
And Alex began thrashing, gouging his heels deep in the mattress, twisting
the plain white sheets so hard he knew he had to be shredding them, not
caring—
Nothing else existed now, nothing but this mouth working him like a
blade wrapped in wet satin—
Jesus, he was close...so fucking close to the edge if he shut his eyes
he could taste it, see it right there in front of him—
And suddenly it stopped, warm, insistent suckling abruptly moving off
and away, impending orgasm unraveling like a ball of string pitched across
the floor—
"What the hell'd you do that for?" he choked, eyes snapping open, delayed
heat breaking out, flooding him, crawly little bullets of it swarming under
his skin. "Goddamn it, Mulder, finish what you start—"
"Oh, I intend to," he answered, all calm, silky monotone, a tiny smile
playing at the corners of his mouth. "Get up and turn around. I want you
on your knees."
"Wh-what?"
"You heard me. Do it."
He stared up at the other man for an endless moment, brain whirling.
They'd never done it this way before, at least not with Mulder on top—
but then, he'd never seemed interested in taking the lead until now. The
notion gave Alex pause; he hadn't been bottom man—not willingly, anyway
—since he was a teenager. What he'd had to do in Hong Kong didn't count;
that had been for survival, not pleasure—
And this was for Mulder, and for himself, for the last time in a long
time, for memories that would have to sustain them both for months, maybe
even years...
Turning over, he raised himself up on his knees, surprised by how shaky
he suddenly felt, nearly slipping then catching himself, bracing himself
with both palms pressed to the wall right above the headboard, tossing
his pillow aside when his still-throbbing erection kept prodding it. Hanging
his head, he dragged in air, slow, ragged gouts of it, willing the thunder
roaring in his temples to ease, nerves raw, afire, waiting for Mulder to
take him, dimly hearing the tiny crackle of ripping foil—
Gasping when he felt warm, moist lips brushing the nape of his neck,
his head tilting back of its own accord, offering up his throat like some
wild animal submitting to its master's will—
Submitting with complete, soul-stripping abandon, welcoming the lube-slicked
fingers spreading him wide, probing, opening him, a hot jolt searing, shooting
up his spine—
"Y-you, um...don't have to do that..." he half-whispered, half-sobbed,
hands and arms trembling so much now he almost slid down the wall.
"I don't want to hurt you—"
"You won't, I'm used to it... just put a little extra lube on the condom
and it should be okay..."
Mulder moved away for a few seconds, then came back, repositioning himself,
the tip of his erection poised right where it needed to be, giving a small
push, just enough to gain entry, both of them crying out as it happened—
Momentum suddenly carrying them forward as Mulder draped himself over
Alex's back, mouth close to his ear, sliding halfway in with one deep stroke,
slowly starting to move—
God, he felt enormous, a huge iron club plowing him open, faster now,
breaking him, stretching him out on a rack, on that endless, delirious
knife's edge between pain and pleasure—
Driving in like a jackhammer, one hand closing over Alex's on the wall,
fingers entwining, nails digging into his palm—
His other hand traveling down, over Alex's belly, lower, cupping, rolling
the soft sac beneath his pulsing erection—
Drawing almost all the way out of Alex at the exact same instant, just
the tip of him remaining inside, slippery, trembling, teasing—
"You want this? You want me?" Mulder taunted, hot, humid breath assaulting
Alex's ear, making him groan, writhe, struggle in vain against this body
holding him down, holding him prisoner—
Sudden moisture spilling down his face, his neck, not knowing or caring
if it was sweat or tears—
"Jesus, Mulder... just do it... finish it..."
"Unh-uh, you don't get to come until I hear you say it. Until I hear
you beg for it."
"Y-you're fucking kidding me..."
"Beg for it or I'm stopping right now."
He tried, but the only sound that would come out of him was a strangled
whimper. God, oh God, he felt like he'd swallowed a handful of white-hot
coals, and they were burning him up, eating straight through him from the
inside out, any second now he'd go up in a cloud of spontaneous combustion...
"Please what?"
"Fuck me, Mulder... do it now..."
"Now?" he echoed, tongue lashing Alex's earlobe, catching it between
his teeth, "you sure you want it now?"
"Yes... God, yes..."
And he pushed back in, all the way in with a chest-rattling sigh, lying
flat against Alex's back again, Alex bending forward on his own, trying
to ease the angle of entry, help them find their rhythm together—
And they did, Mulder's arm looping around Alex, around his waist, holding
him still and steady as he sped up, making sure every stroke raked over
Alex's prostate, friction and heat kicking both their pulses into overdrive—
The one in Alex's head, drumming, thundering, igniting his brain, and
the one driving into him, deep into him—
And the one he could feel there against his back, pounding out of Mulder's
chest, both of them faltering, crying out, convulsing at that precise same
moment, wet silkiness splashing Alex's belly and chest—
And suddenly he couldn't keep his grip on the wall anymore, tumbling
to the mattress, rolling onto his side, taking Mulder with him, still joined,
sweaty and sticky, chests heaving like a pair of marathon runners...
He didn't pass out, or even drift off, but it still took awhile before
his brain could form enough coherent thought to let him speak again. "You
really are a bastard," he mumbled, smiling, twisting his head to find Mulder's
mouth still close by—
He leaned in for a kiss, but Mulder pulled back a millisecond before
their lips met, rolling off onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, his
expression blank, impassive.
"Something wrong?" Alex asked, turning over, propping himself up on
one elbow, one hand reaching over to stroke Mulder's shoulder—
Grimacing, Mulder shrugged off his touch, still saying nothing.
"Why'd you do that?"
"C'mon, Alex, lay off. I'm not in the mood anymore—"
"That's not what I meant." Hazel eyes floated shut a moment, finally
gazing up in his direction. "Why'd you treat me like that when we were—"
"You complaining?"
"No," he replied softly, "just asking for an explanation. I mean, if
I'd known that's how you like it, we could've done it that way before—"
"Well, now you know," he cut in, sitting up, swinging both legs over
the side of the bed, one hand rubbing through his hair. "By the way, Alex...anybody
ever told you you talk in your sleep?"
Something in his voice, the flat, utter inflectionlessness of it, sent
an immediate, bone-shattering chill right through him. "Wh-what'd I say?"
"Enough to get me remembering something else you said...the other night
in Hong Kong." Looking down, he picked out a flowery pattern on the comforter,
tracing it with one fingertip. "You said my father was getting ready to
tell me everything...and that if he had, you would've had to kill me too."
"Mulder, I—"
And then he glanced up, hazel eyes locking on green, gold highlights
glinting like razor-sharp shards of ice. "You did it, didn't you? You killed
my father. You pulled the trigger."
No retreat now, no escape. He knew. There was nothing else to do but
come clean. "The old man told me to...had me follow you to your father's
house that night. I broke in, waited in the bedroom...actually, I never
thought I was gonna have to kill anybody. The state you were in, I was
expecting you to off your father, then shoot yourself. I'd only planned
to step in and stop you if you tried."
"So you went there with the express intention of defying your orders?
Why does that sound less than plausible?"
"Look, I heard what your father was saying to you. You think the old
man would've hesitated ordering your death if he'd finished? That wasn't...an
alternative I was prepared to face."
"So you did it," Mulder repeated.
Silence.
"Say it. Say you did it. I want to hear it."
"Yeah," he rasped finally, the word torn from a place deep in his chest.
"I did it. I shot him. You happy now?"
"Scully's sister. You do her too?"
"God, Mulder, don't you ever fucking give up—"
"Answer me."
"What difference does it make what I say? You've already made up your
mind."
Mulder's only reply was to get up, grab his clothes off the chair he'd
thrown them in last night, and start dressing, quickly, silently.
Alex stared, watching him numbly, a sick, metallic taste filling his
mouth. "S-so why'd you fuck me if you... if you already believed I did it?"
"To see if I could."
"What?"
"To see if I could make myself do it...make myself fuck the man who'd
killed my father. Make you beg for it the same way you made me beg for
it the night before you left two years ago." He was buttoning his shirt
now, not bothering to tuck it in his slacks, grabbing his jacket, heading
for the door. "Thanks for the experience, Alex. Guess you could say it's
been educational."
He didn't know how long he lay there, staring at the back of the door,
the sharp echo of its closing reverberating inside his head. Finally he
flung an arm over his eyes, dragging in deep breaths, trying to quell the
knot forming in his chest, the instant, overwhelming sensation of being
crushed.
Somehow he managed to master it, swallow it all down, sitting up, his
gaze drawn to the window, to the golden-white light pouring in through
it. Another day. Another place to go...
A plane to Toronto with his name on it. Now if he could just remember
which name that was...
He didn't want anybody calling him Alex again anytime soon.
Hold on
What is it in me that refuses to believe
He reached over and flicked off the radio with a disgusted sigh, flopping
back onto the couch, shifting restlessly for a minute or so, finally grabbing
the TV remote. He'd thought the music would help clear his head, help him drift off, but it hadn't...
Nothing had. He'd gotten home a couple hours ago, forced himself to
choke down some food, changed into jeans and a t-shirt, then, feeling suddenly,
incredibly exhausted, had sacked out here on the couch, thinking he'd drop
off in a few minutes, like he usually did—
No such luck. And here he was, irritated, frustrated as hell, staring
at the ceiling, counting the cracks, idly wondering if they were part of
some arcane code he'd yet to decipher—
Almost tumbling to the floor when the phone's ring abruptly split the
silence. He lunged for the receiver on the third ring, fingers trembling
as he picked it up. "Hello?"
"Mulder, it's me. Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to
get in touch with you for two days."
Scully. Jesus, he hadn't even called her yet. Hadn't even thought of
calling her—
No, that wasn't true. He had thought of it—for about five seconds,
then he'd shunted the notion aside, probably because he couldn't think
of a damn thing to say to her. Nothing she'd understand anyway—
"Mulder?"
"Sorry, I... um, had my cell phone turned off. Just got back in a little
while ago—"
"From Hong Kong?"
"Yeah."
Silence.
"Well, did you find anything there?"
Should he tell her? Part of him wanted to, and part of him wanted to
find the deepest darkest hole in this hemisphere and crawl down inside
t forever... "Yeah, I guess you could say I found something..."
Another pause, short and telling this time, just long enough for him
to get a perfect mental picture of her rolling her eyes. "Are you going
to tell me, or do I have to start pulling teeth?"
"I found Krycek."
"Krycek? What was he doing there?"
"Improving international relations."
"What?"
"Look, could we talk about this some other—"
"So where is he now?" she persisted.
"Huh?"
"Well, you brought him back in custody, didn't you?"
He sucked in a breath, rubbing, blinking his eyes, trying to get rid
of the burning sting that had started behind them; this was going to be
even harder to explain than he thought. "Um, yeah...sort of."
"Sort of?" she repeated.
He didn't answer.
"Where is he, Mulder?"
"Probably halfway to Toronto by now."
"Are you saying you let him go?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying," he snapped. "Now just give it
a fucking rest, okay?"
This time the silence went on so long he wasn't even sure she was still
there. "What happened?" she asked quietly. "You can tell me."
And that did it. The dam inside him cracked, burst, clogging his nose
and throat, cutting off his air. "Scully, I can't...I don't know how or
why it happened, but it did...and I don't know how to tell you without
making you hate me..."
"Mulder, I could never hate you—"
"Yes, you could. If you heard this, you could."
A tiny pause, and then, "Mulder, listen to me. I'm coming over right
now. Just sit tight until I get there, okay?"
"Scully, no, don't come over—"
Click.
He stared at the receiver, then finally hung it up, slumping forward,
face buried in his hands—
And then the smell hit him—the acrid, pungent scent of his own body
odor, and something else, something thicker, spicier—
Alex's scent. Alex's and his mixed together, spinning his brain, whirling
it back to that morning, flashing an instant aching image of the two of
them before his eyes, joined and sweaty and straining—
The scent of sex, simple but sure as hell not pure—
And if Scully got a good whiff of him, all further questions would be
rendered moot.
He stripped and showered in less than ten minutes, the warm water calming,
steadying him, toweling off, tugging on a fresh pair of jeans and clean
t-shirt just as he heard Scully's key twisting in the front door lock.
"Hi," she said, both of them entering the kitchen at the same time,
indicating her key, "I didn't want you to have to get up."
He shrugged, but didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say.
"Want some tea?" she asked, dumping her purse on the kitchen table.
"I do, if you don't mind."
"Sure, go ahead."
Apparently taking that as a yes on his part, she put the kettle on,
got down two cups and filled them as soon as the kettle whistled, coming
over to where he was sitting at the table, setting a steaming cup down
in front of him, pulling the other chair out for herself.
They sat in silence for awhile, staring at the misty curls wafting up
from their cups. "Tell me," she prompted.
"It...um, goes back a long way. I'm not sure where to start."
"Wherever you want. I'm listening."
So he started, haltingly at first, going back to the beginning, to his
partnership with Alex two years earlier, taking it from there, omitting
the more explicit details, yet leaving no doubt about the true nature of
their relationship, then or now—
He didn't look at her again until he was finished, until all the words
had evaporated into the air just like the steam from their cups. She gazed
back at him with that same rock-steady seriousness he'd come to expect
from her over the past three years, leaning forward, one hand half-covering
her mouth, elbow propped on the table, taking her time before she spoke
again.
"My God, Mulder... why didn't you tell me before? To think you've been
carrying all this guilt around with you since—"
"Somehow I didn't think you'd appreciate hearing that I'd been fucking
the guy who killed your sister."
"But he didn't."
"What? How do you know?"
"Because they apprehended Melissa's shooter last night, when he tried
shooting Skinner in a diner downtown. Pendrell showed me the PCR results,
and they were an exact match."
"Oh, Jesus..." he breathed, mind spinning, half-relieved, half-sick.
"Skinner? Is he—"
"He's fine. The bullet grazed him, but didn't cause any serious damage.
He's coming back to work tomorrow."
"No thanks to me. That shooter's probably another one of Cancerman's
thugs, tying up loose ends—"
"Mulder, stop," she said softly, eyes closing a moment. "Stop beating
yourself up. Whatever happened's happened. It's done. In fact, I can't
help feeling responsible for some of this myself."
"Why? You didn't do anything."
"Exactly," she replied. "I mean, I wasn't really... there for you after
I was... returned. You were all torn up about something, I could tell, but
I was so preoccupied with my own... issues, recovery, whatever you want
to call it, that I didn't feel I could or should reach out to you. But
maybe if I had, you would've told me about what had happened with you and
Alex... and maybe you wouldn't have felt so alone all this time, and be
having so much pain now."
"I couldn't have told you then; it hurt too much, and I think all I
wanted to do at that point was bury it, forget about it. And then, after
what happened with my father, then Melissa... I was afraid you'd hate me. I was afraid of... a lot of things."
"That's nothing to be ashamed of. It's called being human." This time
she smiled, reaching for his hand across the table. "And I'd be a pretty
awful person, I think, if I hated you for doing the most human thing of all—falling in love."
He'd been half-slumped in his chair, but that made him sit straight
up. "I'm not in love with him—"
"You should have heard yourself, Mulder, heard the words you used when
you were talking about him, about being with him. If you'd used those exact
same words about a woman, I'd say you had it bad... and still do."
"Scully..."
"And I wouldn't think that someone with a doctorate in psychology would
need me to explain this to him," she teased.
He couldn't help grinning a little at that. "How'd you get so worldly
wise all of a sudden?"
"Sometimes we can't help who we fall in love with," she murmured, looking
away, down at her hands for a moment. "Forgive yourself, Mulder, and maybe
someday you'll be able to forgive Alex. And now," she added, gesturing
for him to get up, "what you need is sleep. Doctor's orders."
"Scully, I can put myself to bed. Been doing it for years—"
"Shut up and get in there, Mulder."
He knew an immovable object when he butted heads with it. Sighing, he
trudged into the bedroom, pulling off his t-shirt, stopping when he saw
Scully there in the doorway. "You want to help with this too?"
"I'll sit out here on the couch till you're asleep, okay?"
"Okay. Thanks."
"No problem."
Weariness spread out over him like a lead blanket the second he lay
down, weighting his limbs, pressing him into the mattress. He let himself
surrender to it, eyes floating shut, mind fogging, listening to the sound
of the radio playing softly again, wafting in through the half-open door...
Oh God if you're out there won't you hear me
Am I in Heaven here or am I in Hell
So now you're sleeping peaceful and I lie awake and pray
Love. Scully had spoken of that, and of forgiveness. She'd forgiven
him, thank God... forgiven him for everything. She'd understood, without
reservation, without judgment...
He supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. He'd given her nothing
but grief over their past three years of partnership, and she'd always
forgiven him, never taking him to task even when she'd had ample reason
to, even when he took off and ditched her, just like he had a couple days ago in California...
And she hadn't even mentioned it. Jesus...
Maybe Scully was right. Maybe he should try to forgive... forgive himself,
forgive Alex...
Yeah, maybe... just maybe, given time, it could happen...
But he didn't want to think about that now. All he wanted was to sleep,
to forget about everything for awhile...
He drifted off with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, thinking
of another smile, one that could light up the New York skyline...
Of silky black hair, and deep green eyes.
The End...
Angel V
Fair Play
The stitch in his side was a living thing throbbing singing in agony
making every breath a gulp of flame—
"Please..." he rasped, voice thready, barely there, "please..."
Hold on to yourself
For this is gonna hurt like hell
Hold on
Hold on to yourself
You know that only time can tell
This isn't easier than the real thing...
I know we've never talked before
And oh God the man I love is leaving
Won't you take him when he comes to your door...
At the crossroads where I'm standing...
That you'll be strong tomorrow and we'll see another day
And we will praise it
The love the light that brings a smile to your face...
