JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (13/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

See chapter 1 for disclaimer.

Chapter 13
        
     The next hour was actually pleasant and curiously
interesting. As they jogged along, Jake quietly explained that
The Bayou was another of those specialty enclaves like The
Caverns but located on the far side of the island. Slumbering in
the shadows between the island's only natural hills, the Disney-
primitive village was home to only a handful of staff but it was
a popular mood-altering spot after dark.

     Mulder didn't ask how the mood altering was achieved - he
assumed he would find out before long.

     The weather was perfect as it almost always was on the
island, as if that, too, were by design, but Fox hadn't been
conscious of it long enough to become jaded. At least they were
well away from the picnic crowd with their sticky hands, and Fox
was actually enjoying the long easy jog with Jake. As before
their paces matched perfectly and Elliot's added weight on the
cart was hardly noticeable on the island's smooth roads except on
the inclines that were few until the end when the land rose
steeply near the hills. At this point Fox just leaned into his
side of the T-bar and kept moving. At this Jake gave him a sharp
look. He would have slowed down but Fox would have none of it.
Maybe he just didn't want this pleasant unencumbered time to end.
Maybe he just wanted to show the Master and Mistress where
discipline really mattered. The afternoon was warmer inland and
by the time they reached the first long house of bamboo and
thatch and weathered wood, both were heaving hoarsely for breath
and running with sweat. Jake was nearly at the point of collapse.

     As they slid to a stop, Elliot climbed sedately down from
the chariot's box shaking his head in mock dismay. Lisa stalked
off, furious. That devious and calculating cat's expression of
hers could turn nasty. She headed directly around to stand before
her pair, her hands on her hips, her chin tilted up so that she
was almost their height. Rapidly, she glared from one to the
other. Dawn's eyes were downcast as he stood and shook with
exhaustion but Dusk's were as defiant as ever.

     "You!" she declared sharply, for it was painfully obvious
who the instigator was, "are incorrigible." She planted a finger
squarely in the center of his sweating chest. "Do you think that
I want either of you lamed? You could have walked. _We_ could
have walked!" Abruptly, she released the traces and then
unbuckled the chaffing harness from around Fox's shoulders while
Elliot did the same for Jake on his right. The leather straps
were thrown haphazardly into the chariot's box.

     "No more of this for today. We'll call for a cart to take us
back when we're ready." Tilting her head towards the dense
tropical forest that nestled in the dark cleft between the hills,
she gestured to Jake.

     "Get him to be sensible for once. Cool yourselves off
properly then stand under the waterfall to finish the job. Jacob,
you know where it is. It won't hurt either of you; you're both
beginning to smell a bit ripe.  Then _walk_ back to the dormitory
and get a few hours sleep. I'll order a room for you. I'll call
for you both this evening." She had begun to turn away, clearly
disgusted, when she abruptly focused on Jake again. "And since
you've agreed to be his keeper, you see that he walks or I'll
have you both hobbled for a day. We'll talk about this more
tonight. Tomorrow you can come back for the cart." For the first
time since she poked him in the chest, she turned on Fox -turned
'on' rather than 'to' in more ways than one. Her gaze was level,
with soul-raking directness and Fox felt a wave of apprehension
and a disturbing arousal.

     "Tomorrow," she hissed, "you will appear at the villa at
eight a.m. - alone - and we will review some basic rules, though
it appears that you may not have learned them to start with. In
any case we'll work together until I've bent those knees and that
back of yours. Do we understand each other? Otherwise, _stud_,
there will be no contract sale. We deal only in quality here."

     Too stunned to go quickly to one knee as he'd seen the other
thralls do when they did not please, Fox forced his eyes down.
Too late. He knew she saw the flash of dismay cross his face.
Shit! She had him now. She had a weapon. She knew what he wanted
above all else. Out of this place!

     There was triumph in her wild eyes as she turned away to
precede Elliot into the Long House. The Thrall Master had
lingered in the doorway, clearly amused by the whole performance.

     "By the way," Elliot called over his shoulder, "leave those
lovely manes and tails on until you get back to the dorm -mostly
because Dusk doesn't like them, but also because you both look
simply splendid that way. And don't worry, the water won't hurt
them. They're drip dry - like you."

     With the poignant reminder of the order to rinse off if not
bathe, Jake led the way past what appeared to be the fanciful
reconstruction of some nineteenth century village maybe from
somewhere on the African or central American coast. There were
roofs of both thatch and tin. Supports were of bamboo and palm
trunks. The walls were either of woven mats, slender bamboo or
more old wood. There was not a soul in sight.

     From the way Jake refused to look his way, Mulder knew Jake
was irritated by his stunt. He knew he was making Jake's life,
which was tough enough, tougher still, but what was he supposed
to do? Roll over and just take the abuse and the humiliation? The
part of him who had raced that morning would have managed. Where
had that lighter soul gone?

     Luckily, Jake cooled down quickly in more ways than one.
They were just passing the last of the village huts when he said,
"It's intended to be Haitian so I don't know why they call it the
'Bayou'. Probably because of the large number of island
immigrants who live around New Orleans."

     "Where is everyone?" Mulder asked curiously.

     "Oh, it's rather dead during the day but you should see it
after dark. It's a riveting place. On the other hand, since they
make a big show of conjuring up zombies in their ceremonies I
guess you could say it was rather dead at night as well."

     Mulder groaned, appreciating the joke. Even more he
appreciated Jake's attempt to take his mind of his troubles.

     "I hope you have a chance to see it," Jake went on. "Flaming
torches, masked and painted demons, bonfires and drums and
dancing, voodoo magic... and drugs. Lots of drugs. Purely
recreational, though when nothing's illegal, the line is pretty
thin. The Club has signed no international agreements, though
I've heard that the attendants here see that no one abuses the
privilege. That's where the people are now, those who are here
that is; in the huts, or in the clearings, dozing it off,
dreaming their dreams, and engaged in what sex they can under the
circumstances." The tone of Jake's voice was that of someone
providing information only; there was no trace of his taking a
stand on the morality of the issue one way or the other.
Considering what else went on on the island that wasn't too
surprising.

     They left the village behind to walk along well-marked paths
of shell or over bamboo bridges that spanned small streams. The
forest closed in, the hills grew closer. It was noticeably cooler
here. After all the sun and perfectly landscaped grounds around
the main resort, this unrestrained vegetation felt like a virgin
rain forest though Mulder assumed that this was as planned as the
other.

     Part of the perceived drop in temperature was due to the
cooling affects of the waterfall that they were already hearing
and soon saw. It was not large but fell in a shimmering sheet of
silver from the edge of a cliff fifty feet or more into a pool of
clean, waist-deep water. Mulder found that there was at least one
advantage to wearing minimal clothing. He had only to slip the
'mocs' from his feet and he was in that water and it was simply
perfect, cool but not too cold. Falling from the height it did,
its force was strong and stingingly refreshing on his poked and
prodded skin.

     'Scully, oh Scully, how I'd love to show you this, too. What
I would give to see you sitting on that rock over there shaking
your head as I play the fool for you.'

     'What _would_ I do?' he wondered. 'How far dare I go to
ensure that I see you again as soon as possible? I'm undoubtedly
going to find out tonight.'

     Jake had joined him under the falls by now and both were
soon splashing each other with abandon. Despite his very
'correct' attitude for most of the day Jake was clearly as
relieved as Fox to be rid of maddening crowd and the shoulder
harness. After a few minutes, they clambered up onto the mossy
bank to catch their breath. Their tails drooped forlornly as they
dripped. The motor in Fox's, silent before, ground a little as it
tried to swish. Matter-of-factly, Jake took the three feet of
horsehair in his hands and wrung out the worst of the water.
Feeling the weight drag on his butt, Fox begrudgingly did the
same.

     "I suppose we have to go back now."

     Jake's expression was sincerely apologetic. "You're going to
want to get some sleep before evening. I know I do." Unhappily,
Fox forced aching muscles to stand and started back the way they
had come. "Take the right hand path, I think it's a short cut."

     Short cuts can be dangerous things.

          & nbsp; ;

     Within two hundred yards they stumbled upon a clearing. A
dozen persons were scattered about the deep, shadowed glade. A
small fire was crackling among a circle of stones. That was all
that registered with Fox before he heard the voice, a woman's
voice, mellow as old wine and rich with the music of the islands.

     "Who is it?" she called. "Whoever it is, I don't bite. Come
out."

     Without hesitation Jake stepped through the last row of palm
fronds. Having lived all his life in a big city, Jake should have
known better. Maybe obedience could become a learned response
even in the not-so-young. Mulder would not have moved except for
an uneasy feeling he had that Jake somehow needed protection.

     As they emerged, Mulder expected some reaction from the
group around the fire but at most only three of the dozen persons
even acknowledged their presence. They were all reclining on rugs
or mats or on each other. Some were smoking from water pipes of
various shapes and sizes. By the dazed expressions on the faces
of those that weren't, they had clearly indulged earlier. A thin
woman, past middle age but far from ancient, rose at their
approach. Her skin was the color of coffee au lait and she was
dressed in a red and gold African print She had been crouched by
the fire cooking something in a small iron pot. She must have
been the one who spoke. Clearly, she was the only one in the
clearing who had a coherent thought about her.

     "At first I thought the animal gods had come for early tea.
Now I am not so sure. You must be water spirits."

     Jake had come to such a sudden standstill that Fox stepped
on his heel. "Mama Rosa?" he asked weakly or at least that is
what Fox thought he said.

     "'Mama Rosa?'" The woman inquired. Her face framed by its
turban was open and friendly. "Not I. I am Serena or so they call
me. Leader of this inadequate and blessedly temporary coven." Her
slender arms elegantly gestured about the circle. "But come. Sit.
Eat."

     Jake raised his left wrist, letting the red bracelet jangle.
He had reluctantly given up the gold one to Elliot that morning.

     The old woman understood immediately. She probably had known
from the start. "And do you think I am too important a person to
eat with such as you?" She raised her own wrist on which hung a
silver bracelet. "And so I was also a slave, as were my
grandparents and their parents and their parents before them, so
I am just continuing an old family tradition. Now sit and eat and
talk. With only these useless converts to converse with I do get
weary of the sound of my own voice."

     Fox hesitated, but Jake seemed mesmerized. Clearly, there
was something he needed to say badly and Fox was certainly in no
hurry to return to the resort and its clients and their whims.
Besides, he also felt drawn to this woman who spoke to them as if
they were real people once more.

     As they came forward to fold their long legs and seat
themselves where she indicated on the edge of the glade's large
central rug, Jake explained. "Mama Rosa was a woman I met once.
In Washington, D.C." He caught his companion's eye. "She helped
me when I was lost on the streets. I thought for a moment you
were she, but you aren't. She was much older. Just the accent."

     The rich voice laughed. "Yes, we old Black island women, we
all look alike to you." She cocked her head this way and that as
if seeing the two lean and handsome men for the first time. "Just
like you honkies all look alike to us."

     Jake threw back his head and nearly laughed. "Touch‚, Madam,
but are like my Mama Rosa." Jake seemed to shake himself and
turned to Mulder again. "The silver bracelet means Madam Serena
is on staff."

     "An attendant like those in the Green rooms?" Mulder asked.

     Jake and Serena shared a smile. "No, not quite," Jake said.
"Think of the title 'Madam' as it has been traditionally used for
the last few centuries."

     Mulder's mouth opened slightly in an 'Oh'.

     Jake turned to Serena. "Formally, I take it you're a
Guardian."

     "Camp Counselor better describes what I do." When she
smiled, the tiny wrinkles in her face didn't disappeared but one
failed to notice her age.

     "A Guardian's primary job is to see that all runs smoothly,"
Jake interpreted.

     She bent down to retrieve a plate filled with pieces of
fruit and sat cross-legged before them with the grace of a much
younger woman. In truth, she wasn't that old, but clearly her
life had not been an easy one. Fifty-five? Sixty? "When we get
too old they ask a few of us to become Guardians. So very
descriptive in my case, wouldn't you say?" She gestured to the
small bubbling pot she tended. "Guardians of the sacred flame.
Those who can no longer 'do', we prepare the stage for those who
can." She held out the plate of fruit. "Here, eat. You ran this
morning and, if the word I hear is true, you won."

     Jake dipped his head and took a piece of star fruit and
another of red-gold mango. "You're well informed."

      "My roots go deep," she replied. "Out here they must be."
The plate of fruit was offered to Mulder.

     "We can't stay long," Jake cautioned as his teammate took a
piece of Kiwi though Mulder didn't know if the information was
meant for Madam Serena or him.

     "They never stay," the woman said, sadly shaking her head.
"The Masters and Mistresses must be obeyed above all." She
gestured, encouraging Fox to take another piece and he also took
some of the mango that glistened fresh and sweet. It was.

     "Say that I detained you," she suggested. "Seniority has
some rights, even here. See, I even have thralls of my own." She
inclined her turban-wrapped head and for the first time they saw
two very young men who kept a watch of their own in the rear of
the group near a small hut that blended nearly invisibly with the
undergrowth.

     Mulder surveyed the prostrate bodies. "Your guests seem
hardly difficult to handle."

     "These are not," she admitted, sadly, "but the mix varies."

     Fox didn't inquire if it was the mix of personalities or the
mixture of drugs in the water pipes that was sometimes difficult
to handle. Best not to ask. Being a federal officer he shouldn't
even be here, but considering how he was dressed, that seemed
hardly an issue at present. He took another piece of mango. It
was the best he had ever had and his stomach, once reminded about
how empty it was, had become demanding. It had been a long day
already and from Lisa's hints - or were they threats? - it was
far from over.

     Mulder became aware that Madam Serena's dark eyes were fixed
on Jake who was also finding the fruits irresistible. The object
of her attention must have felt those eyes. "You're staring. Is
anything wrong?" Jake asked, absently wiping mango juice from his
chin.

     "Do you need to ask? You must find yourself being stared at
often in this place."

     "Not in the way you do."

     She leaned over and selected a bit of apple, studying it
closely as if it were an oracle before she took a tiny bite. "The
women in my family can look into a man's soul and read all his
secrets. So it has always been."

     Uncomfortable, Jake dropped his eyes as if he still found
the contents of the plate fascinating. "I have no secrets to
read."

     "We all have secrets," the woman assured him in her musical
voice. "Some more than others. Tell me of yourself. Your
'brother' over there is as naive as a virgin, but you have been
on the island long enough to know the ways things work. Not too
long, though, or I would have seen you before." Her voice dropped
nearly to a whisper. "You I would have remembered meeting."

     Left out of the conversation, Mulder found his attention
waning. Just sleepy, he thought. They had made the mistake of
sitting down and it was so comfortable here and peaceful.
Regardless of the duties she performed that had won her the title
of 'Madam', the name Serena must have come from this affect that
she had on people and places. All were at their ease in her
company. The conversation went on around him, around and around
like bees on a warm summer day. He found his eyes drooping but
when he tried to wake himself, found his vision blurry. His limbs
felt weak, too. So tired, so heavy.

     Something about the fruit... What? Drugged without a doubt
though he never came up with the word itself because his head was
full of too many other words. These words were like petals
falling in spring, like leaves drifting down in the fall, like
earth in a dirt devil, a helpless flower caught in a whirlpool.
What human sounds he heard were only disjointed syllables. They
wove all around him. Most were in Serena's slow, warm voice and
from time to time, Jake's slurred and weary one.

     As if in a dream, Mulder heard Serena ask in a voice far
deeper and more intent than before, "Where did you ever find her?
Or do I ask the wrong question? Where did she find you? Why has
she attached herself to you?"

     Jake moaned in reply. Straining to hear and to remember,
Mulder realized that the same questions or variations thereof had
been asked again and again for some time.

     "Hear me, Jacob," the wise woman repeated in her new stern
voice. "You're carrying a ghost with you like a hunchback bears
his hump. Did you know she was there? You must have. She is far
too - real - for you not to notice. She burns and she hungers.
She brought you here, didn't she? This is too perfect a place for
her. They have a name for her kind. What did you do to deserve
her?" The rich words spat out like thorns. "Did you jilt the girl
so that she died of grief? Was she mother or sister or lover whom
you beat in a rage? Or just some poor woman you ran over with
your big, fast car when you went driving drunk one night?"

     Jake moaned again. Nearly paralyzed in his own thick fog,
Mulder felt like doing the same. He should go to him, stop this,
whatever 'this' was but he couldn't move. Not a thing. Just
understanding the words that somehow drifted through the cotton
candy of his brain was hard enough. He did finally get the
weights on his eyelids to lift a little but only to find the
glade surprisingly dark. Jake was only a few feet away as if he
had collapsed trying to reach Mulder and yet he could barely be
seen. The only light came from the tiny fire. It had been dim
before, what with the place being in shadow and the sunglasses-
like affect of his dark contacts, but this was like night. Even
as Mulder strained into that night, Serena's two young thralls
came into view carrying flaming brands with which they lighted
standing torches that had been present but unlit before. Their
curious eyes never left their Mistress, but they stayed outside
of they circle, hovering in the shadows just beyond the
torchlight to be close at hand in case she needed them.

     Jake was still moaning, unable to speak and yet determined
to protest the woman's cruel words, even though not all the words
had been cruelly spoken. The woman just needed to know and would
do what was necessary to get it. Not entirely unlike Forsyth and
his kind, Mulder thought, finding that his anger of at the memory
helped him claw through the drugs that threatened to drown him.

     "Sto-p...i-t," Mulder managed though his voice had no
strength and he wondered if she heard. It was like being drunker
than he had ever been in his life and yet he was desperate to
make himself understood.

     The woman had been crouched over Jake like some hungry bird.
Now she spun towards him, her garments fluttering like wings.
"What do you know about it, pretty one? He told you?"

     Mulder tried to swallow but his tongue felt numb and huge in
his mouth. "She was his fianc‚e... but it was she - she found
another and wanted them both. K-Killed herself."

      There - that was out. Exhausted by his effort Mulder's head
fell back. He could not bear that this stranger should think such
things about someone he had come to think of almost as a brother.
Jake had loved Alex, that much was certain, and in some sad,
pitiful way loved her still.

     By the time Mulder could force his eyes open again, the
woman had leaned back on her heels. She was murmuring to herself,
totally absorbed in what he had told her. Finally, she turned
back to Jake and just watched him for a long moment. He was
curled fetal on his side now, both hands spread over his face as
if his emotions were too many and too great to bear being seen.

     Pouring something from a pitcher into a cup, Serena brought
it, surprisingly, to Mulder's lips. When he fought it, though his
movements were weak and awkward, she clicked her tongue and
shushed him gently like a child. "It's just water. Drink."

     He didn't have much choice; she poured it over his lips. At
least it tasted like water, cool and clean. Then she took it to
Jake though she had to pry his hands away from his ravaged face
to get him to drink it. How long had she been questioning him and
what else had she said while Mulder had drifted in la-la land? He
had no idea. She crouched beside Jake, now, helping him with the
cup that his shaking hands could barely hold. She smoothed his
hair like a comforting mother, her face thoughtful.

     "My mother sent me out into the dark alleys of the cities
and shack towns of my native country when I was barely ten," she
said but to which man or to both Mulder didn't know. "I survived
because even on my back I kept my eyes open and I learned. There
is much you can ask for when you have something they want to buy.
Over the years I saw many, many wonders. Powers from the farms
and the hills and forests crept into the towns as the people who
control them came into the crowded places to find work. Once
before I saw this kind of ghost, but that one didn't come to be
in the same way yours did. She was an avenging spirit. She craved
vengeance for the life that had been stolen from her."

     Serena touched Jake's hair again. "I am sorry, pretty one,
for the grief I brought you for surely you did not need more, but
the truth remains: you do not know what you bargain with. Do you
think you can feed her? There is no end to her hunger. What are
you doing to see her out of this world and to her proper place?
Nothing!" she spat.

     Mulder listened with growing wonder. Madam Serena, or
whatever name she had been born with, was right on the money
there. Jake didn't know what he had truly had in Alex nor had he
made any moves to rid himself of this tiger by the tail. Jake was
as much a prisoner as Mulder had been and both still were in many
ways. Both could only react. For Jake, Alex clearly called the
shots. Deeper and deeper she had dragged him into the life of her
desires. By luck and some God's mercy, Jake had stumbled upon The
Club. Though it was no paradise, without it he would now be
living in one of those places where Serena had lost her youth.
No, not living. People who aren't born to it, don't last long on
back streets and dark little rooms especially with Alex's kind of
appetite.

     Serena was crooning softly, still smoothing Jake's brow as
he lay back, quieter now. "What do you want? I can make her leave
you or at least I can try."

     Mulder found he was holding his breath. Could she really do
that? Jake had also gone still. Clearly, he had heard, but he
didn't speak.

     Jake, you want her gone, you know you do! Mulder shouted
even though it was only in his mind. Jake, however, remained
silent, numb and in shock.

     "It's been so... long," Mulder managed to tell her. "I doubt
he knows any more."

     Nodding as if she had come to the same conclusion, Serena
took Jake's face between her hands. "Son, she has stolen your
life and that will kill you in time. Even if that life no longer
matters to you then think about what you want for her. Where
should she be? Not here with you, with us, among the living. She
does not belong here, not any more, no matter how hard she tries.
Her being here upsets the order and there is order in this world,
of a kind." She placed both hands on his chest and raised her
head as if listening. "It is peace you both need. Allow her to
come to me if she will. Some say I have one foot in the spirit
world anyway. I'll introduce her to some proper ghosts and in
time maybe she'll find her way."

     Jake's eyes were open now, as wide as huge black pearls, and
very afraid. His limbs visibly trembled and Mulder wondered if he
was in pain. Serena was poised over the fire now, arms extended
over a thickly rising, but surprisingly fragrant, smoke. Mulder
felt the air between the three of them begin to crawl about on
his skin. It was like a rising storm, which as yet cannot be
seen. He'd felt this tension before.

     Alex was coming.

End of Chapter 13
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (14/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

Chapter 14

     Like some dark priestess, Serena's gestures became more
sure, her posture taller. She knew. "Do nothing. At the very
least do not hold her back. Let her decide."

     And the woman closed her eyes and began to chant, swaying as
the beat became a solid things. Her hands moved constantly,
speaking with her own kind of sign language but her message was
clear enough, "Come..." But she didn't command. Rather she
seduced, like a lover.

     Mulder found he was still holding his breath. He did not
have to hold it much longer. He knew this storm all too well. All
at once, Jake's body jerked, hard. His head was thrown back as
his back bent and only began to relax when his features began to
move like sluggish fluid, to flow and change, to become softer,
more beautiful.

     Mulder shuddered, his very bones remembering this
transformation. He expected Serena to be startled, amazed at the
very least. If she was, however, she hid it well. Then he
realized that she was pleased - and hid that just as well.

     "Her name is Alex," Mulder warned, but it was Alex who heard
for she turned her head with a cat-like quickness and looked out
of Jake's black-pearl eyes. She smiled at him so intently and
with such seduction on her mind that Mulder felt all his bones go
soft.

     Serena stopped her soft chanting long enough to coo, "Not
the man, girl. I called you."

     With a flash of irritation and yet curious, Alex glared at
this interfering personage.

     "I know you," Serena said simply, and then went on with her
chanting. Mulder was certain that Alex would lose interest and
begin to make mischief, but her reactions were surprisingly
restrained. It was as if Serena was painting a story in the air
that Alex could read and Mulder couldn't. The fact that the
mixture of drugged fruit, the hypnotizing chant and the cloying
smoke was pulling him towards sleep had something to do about
that. Alex was mesmerized and in her stillness the silvery vision
which glowed on the surface of Jake's skin had become more clear.
In response the whole glade was beginning to fill with a silvery
mist. When he could keep them open, Mulder shifted his eyes right
to left, then back. The vapor seemed to be rising from the earth
like ground fog on a sudden warm morning. Alex's expression
gradually changed. Before her hunger had always been for flesh
and passion. For the first time it was as if she had found other
food. Her spirit seemed to be drinking in this thick otherworldly
fog right through her very skin, and it calmed rather than
excited her.

     "So glad that you like this," Serena murmured gently in a
singsong voice like to a child. "I guessed that you had never
tasted its like before. You have been starving, trying to exist
by sucking the life of those that live. You will never find
satisfaction that way. The living have their own food - life -
and their spirits are sweet but thin things, mere echoes of what
they left behind before their births and where someday they will
return."

     Serena went back to chanting. As the mist grew even thicker,
it crept up Mulder's skin. It was surprisingly warm, that spirit
soup, noticeably thinner near Jake's indistinct form as Alex
greedily took in all that she could.

     "You don't have to stay with them, little parasite." Serena
raised her arms towards where Alex still reclined, wrapped around
and in and through the body of her lover. "I would welcome you.
Come to me, join with me." When there was no change in the
silvery form Serena merely dropped her arms and sighed. "You are
missing so much. A different kind of existence. You can't even
dream of its like. You've chosen such a weak vessel, did you know
that? Men! What do they know about being a woman." Serena bent
closer, her voice a seduction of her own kind. "If you would join
with me, I could teach you much. I am not so old. Ask them." And
she gestured to her two young men who, seeing her beckon, crept
closer on bent knees as docile as lapdogs and as beautiful as
angels. Dark Botticelli angels. There was no fear on their faces.
In fact, they seemed enchanted. "You young women, you let the
young stags control. There is much a woman of experience could
teach you. I would teach you." Serena bent low again, whispering
almost in Alex's silvery ear. "With me, everything be in the
right place - and everything works." At that Alex actually smiled
and with that new hunger the ghost body seemed to lift, to
actually hover over the host body than be absorbed into it.

     "Come, daughter. You and I were of a kind once, so full of
lusts and passions. I would welcome the feel of those again." The
older hands reached out once more and waited, and waited and this
time there was a change. A thin tendril, like the head and body
of a slender searching snake, detached itself from the rest of
the silver form and drifted tentatively towards the outstretched
hands.

     It... touched. It flowed across the skin that had touched
the skins of so many others for so many years. It tasted that
life... and it liked the richness it found there, a richness so
different from Jake's worn, thin spirit. The tendril thickened,
becoming a stem or tube. Mulder could keep his amazed eyes open
with no trouble now. Fascinated, he could actually see that
shimmering vine disappearing into Serena's body. Quickly, the
tube broadened and began to flow faster. At first it was a
trickle, then became a stream and then a small river, a river of
milk and silver. Jake's face was nearly obscured by the swirling
spirit mist, which in its haste had lost all definition. Mulder
heard soft whimpers but there was no way of knowing if Jake cried
from joy, or grief, or the pure sensation of her passage through
him.

     There was no doubt about what Serena felt. The woman threw
back her head as the glorious power infused her being, and she
was glad. Even before the transfer was complete she was on her
feet, leaping as lightly as a girl, her eyes brilliant. Only
whose eyes were they? Serena's? Alex's? Both? It didn't matter.
They were glad eyes that drunk in the sight of every blade of
grass, every spark from every flame and every strong feature of
every male form lying at her feet. Her twirling steps made the
fog dance. With a final whirl she reached into a string bag
Serena had tied to her hip and threw a handful of sparkling dust
onto the fire. In a burst of fire, a cloud of colored smoke
billowed up and began to drift up and over and then through the
remnants of the spirit fog. Mulder felt his eyes burn, then begin
to water. Then he felt a warmth begin spreading through his body
beginning in this lungs.

     It was like trying to breathe under water.

     Panic rising, Mulder tried to move but had no better luck
than before. As the last milky strand left Jake's body, he gave a
last small cry and then crumpled. He was either unconscious,
asleep or succumbing again to the chemical magic in this place.
'Stoned' was the word that so painstakingly threatened to float
out of the top of Mulder's head.

     For Mulder the glade was changing. It began to shift, to
melt into shapes and colors, none of which had names. Mulder saw
a slender and beautiful serpent the height of a woman take the
hands of two dark angels and lead them with a eager step toward
the little hut that slumbered beyond the torchlight.

     Mulder did not remember anything more, or at least nothing
clear or sane, for a very long time.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Dreams came and went. One he remembered later was of pink
submarines and purple clouds in an amber sky. Must have been his
sixties phase. Another was of swimming in a canary yellow sea.
All mango juice. In fact everything smelled of mango. In years to
come whenever he passed an overripe mango, Mulder would find
himself flashing back to the afternoon he spent stoned out of his
skull and all the fault of the exotic mango.

     There was one particular part of the dreamy afternoon that
he did enjoy and, unlike most dreams he found he could linger
there, and he did... on and on.

     Scully was in the dream. She was standing in Madame Serena's
glade waiting for him to climb down out of the purple clouds. She
sat beside the waterfall with his head in her lap and laughed at
his attempts to get his mouth to work right and be witty for her.
Then she would stop his vain attempts to make words out of the
incomprehensible sounds that came out of his throat by placing
chocolate after chocolate in his mouth - only they all had mango
centers. Finally he gave up trying to say all that overflowed his
heart and just smiled up inanely at her. She would come back with
that Scully smile of hers, only it was far more patient that
usual.

     There were other differences. For one, her hair was red but
an unnatural fire engine red. This Scully was also taller and
more sleekly muscular than the one he knew, like the Amazon
beauty who had stepped on his foot. There was no doubt she was
all Scully, but this one was also easily strong enough to lift
him up and carry him home if she wanted to. And she wore a little
red, female version of the 'sling' thing and nothing else, an
outfit he had particularly admired on one of the thrall girls
down on the beach.

     How he wanted to bury his body within the warm arms of this
Scully, but each time he tried she vanished in a puff of water
pipe smoke like 'I Dream of Genie'. The first time she
disappeared, he was left with a tearing emptiness where his soul
should be. This was how an unwanted child must feel. But then
there she was again to wipe away his tears. After that, he didn't
mind her disappearances as much because she always came back
ready to guard him against the hot, impersonal hands of the crowd
from the beach - and to feed him chocolates with mango cream
centers.

     With all this perfection, however, why was there someone,
somewhere, weeping softly in his voice?

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Close up, Serena's dark angel was only slightly older than
he had looked from afar by torchlight. He certainly moved swiftly
enough to save his private parts from an impact with Mulder's
knee. Considering the young man's profession, that was a very
fortunate thing. Mulder had been rustled out of sleep too many
times by people who did not mean him well to wait to ask
questions. He had also taken to fighting dirtier since the time
he'd fractured his right hand trying to take out a linebacker-
sized opponent and was thus chained to a desk and weaponless for
six weeks. The angel's beautiful olive-colored face was very
definitely taken aback by the intensity of the agent's waking.

     "Hurry, Madam Serena says that you both must go now."

     Rolling to something like a sitting position, Mulder rubbed
his face brusquely with his hands, wishing for some black coffee
and lots of it. He was still drifting more than a little up in
those purple clouds, so much so that he looked around for Dana
Godiva and was genuinely disappointed not to find her. Groggily,
he crawled over to wake Jake who looked worse than he did or at
least Mulder certainly hoped so. The dream dust had given Mulder
some pretty nice visions and he still felt like shit. Jake looked
like death left out in the sun only slightly too long.

     The glade didn't appear much different than Mulder
remembered except that someone had definitely turned the lights
back on. The bodies of the indulging clients were in almost the
identical positions they had been in before Serena had performed
her - suicidal? - magic to coax out the succubus. Cute trick but
not one Mulder cared to learn. How much time had passed? For
about the hundredth time that day Mulder consulted his left
wrist. No watch, just the damn bracelet, the symbol of this
despised masquerade. No watch. How did the staff manage? It was
not as if time didn't matter. The island was run like a
corporation with blue chip stock and yet no one wore a watch.

     It was Jake's inept attempts to get to his knees that pulled
Mulder's wandering thoughts back to immediate needs. The dark-
haired angel who had awakened Mulder waited nearby, clearly
anxious that they do what they were told and move along.
Impatiently, he looked from one to them to the other and then to
the hut and back again.

     "How's your Mistress?" Mulder asked. Considering his own
limbs were as weak as water, helping Jake to stand was a tricky
operation.

     The angel's face lit. It wasn't a smile because thralls
don't smile in public as a rule, but there was definite pleasure
there and Mulder could have sworn that the boy was positively
smug about something. "More than well, but she does require that
you leave quickly. Your presence may be upsetting."

     "Upsetting to who? Alex?" Jake asked in a voice with no
strength whatsoever. Mulder honestly tried to read the emotions
on his 'cousin's' face and gave up. Was he that hard to read? His
sympathy for Scully rose significantly.

     "Your presence is confusing to the spirit and, thus,
unsettling to the bond," the boy angel was saying. "So, yes, go."

     "The bond must be temporary," a woman's light voice coming
to him from some distance explained, "and, therefore, unstable."

     From the hut a slender woman had emerged. She was escorted
by her second angel. By the red and gold African print she wore
and her size this had to be Serena, Mulder told himself, but then
wasn't so sure. No, this must be Serena's daughter. She was at
least twenty years younger than the conjurer had appeared to be,
though this was still a mature and striking woman. No, not a
daughter. Mulder's mind, which he had trained to accept so much
that was impossible, knew exactly who he was looking at. That
kind of wisdom only came with great age; that kind of passion
with youth.

     She walked like a queen as if all of the world were hers for
the taking and why shouldn't she? For an aging woman to suddenly
recover twenty years and all that comes with it, she must be
soaring inside. For Alex, who for almost three years had lived a
largely unwelcome and parasitic existence with Jake, to be
suddenly embraced, to be invited to dwell where she was wanted
and actually fit and could walk freely again in the world? The
feeling of satisfaction and power must be staggering. Even Aswan
Gold must pale in comparison in this being the two women had
created together.

     And if what Serena's angel told them was true and they were
being allowed to leave, then leave they had better do before the
pleasant fire Mulder saw temporarily banked in the female
demigod's eyes began looking for new fuel. Jake, however, seemed
rooted and Mulder couldn't move him despite the fact that he was
already supporting a good deal of the other man's weight.

     At that moment the creature's eyes which had been taking in
the glade and the forest, the sky above and the bodies strewn at
her feet like offerings, turned to Jake, then Mulder. Jake took a
step neither towards her or away but to the side, separating
himself from Mulder to cling to the cutting bark of a cabbage
palm. As for Mulder, his body went instantly numb and about as
insensible as his mind under that inhuman gaze. The earth under
his feet and the breeze on his bare skin disappeared. There was
only she and she was drawing closely. Now he could smell her,
could taste her scent even on his tongue. And that soul. He had
seen that soul staring out of his own eyes. Even his bones
remembered how she had felt inside his body.

     She raised her hand. He thought at first that it was in
farewell, but no. Gracefully, she placed one finger at the base
of his throat.

     It was like fire that lightest of pressure. It was a heat so
incredible he should have been turned to ash. His body did seem
to vaporize - no, it expanded in a whoosh as if she had just
added gasoline to the smoldering fire in his soul. And something
rose out of the inferno. High, high, and higher his secret
passion flew above the earth. How huge it was, how fierce and
wild. He knew this creature. The feel of the muscles across his
back and chest were easily strong enough to control the mighty,
leathery wings that stretched out horizon to horizon from his
shoulders. He was the serpent again like eight months before,
infinitely strong except for the chains that were stronger still
and with which she had bound him to the mountaintop. He screamed
as he had screamed then, a savage cry for release from this
captivity, and as before she waited and waited, drawing out his
agony. At last she released him, withdrawing the single point of
contact so that the chains shattered leaving him to fall. To fall
forever...

     It was Jake who caught him before he crashed, burning all
the way to earth. It was Jake who gently eased him to the ground.
A better ending than the last time she had given him this
particular vision and he had thought he was all alone and falling
to his death. The beginning of that startling wet dream, however,
had been very similar. How so very Alex to remember all the
private little details.

     "Alex," Mulder heard Jake remonstrate as Mulder tried to
pull his wits and his soul back together after her little good-
bye gift, "no more."

     She shrugged, coquettishly, a devilish smile on her face.
Alex always did have extreme views about what made good sex.
Mulder own videos and reading material paled to insignificance by
comparison. Then that face that was neither Serena's face nor
Alex's, but a merging of the two and too beautiful to be human,
turned her attention on Jake and those eyes went as soft as a
dove's, and as sad. Jake must have been as enthralled as Mulder
had been in the light of those eyes for he stopped moving, he
even stopped breathing as she took his face in her hands and for
a long moment they just stared into each other's eyes.

     Their silent 'conversation' went on for a long time but
"...you were never a burden, not to me..." were the only words
Mulder heard Jake murmur aloud. With those words, Alex raised
herself on her toes and...

     The kiss was chaste at first, a small brushing of the lips,
but then it deepened into something so intimate, so painful, so -
final - that Mulder was embarrassed to even be present. He turned
his head away. For it was all there - the bond of years, joy
shared, plans made and never given the time to be, betrayal and
horror and grief borne. All broke away, strand by strand, as they
drew apart.

     Who had deepened that last kiss between these one-time
lovers? Who had moved first and whose spirit-wrenching sorrow had
brought the tears to the dark eyes of both before they drew
apart?  Mulder was not about to guess, he only wondered about a
love like that. Searching inside for anything similar, he only
found that the winds blew dry and lonely across the desert of his
soul.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     Somehow Jake and Mulder found their way back to the staff
complex but neither remembered how. Half the distance, they
supported each other. They walked in a cloud of shadow and mist
while every blade of grass and stone around them was washed in
the golden afternoon sun. By its position in the sky it was as if
only a short time had passed since they had drawn Lisa's chariot
up to the heights. When they stumbled from the forest, their
manes and tails were still damp from the waterfall. There could
not have been any time for meeting Serena, for lying drugged and
dreaming in the glade, for leaving Alex behind.

     Except that that was what they were doing.

     There was no making sense of it. It just was and Mulder
accepted. Besides, his brain felt weightless, without substance,
certainly without two coherent thoughts, and, if anything, Jake
was in worse shape. Mulder had to shake him on more than one
occasion just to ask directions. By the end they walked silent
and separate, feet dragging in their weariness. Even their tails
hung limply, from time to time, barely quivering.

     'Batteries probably giving out,' Mulder's brain filled in
automatically as the motor in his 'tail' faintly groaned. He was
leaning against a wall in the corridor of the dormitory, dead on
his feet and waiting for Jake to open the door to the room Lisa
had ordered for them. It took three tries before Jake was able to
successfully scan his bracelet into the lock. True to their word,
Lisa and Elliot had kept them together. Unfortunately, there was
only one bed and that only a standard full size one, which looked
incredibly small after the barge in the Cavern's great room. This
was also basic thrall quarters so there was no couch, not even a
chair, and the floor was cold, bare concrete.

     At Mulder's surly request, Jake inquired and found that his
old room had already been let out to one of the extra staff that
had been hired for the convention.

     "Shit," Mulder swore, kicking a trashcan and regretting the
lack of his study wingtips.

     "What's wrong?" Jake snapped with less patience than Mulder
had seen him show so far. The last few hours had been brutal and
Jake's death-not-quite-warmed-over expression had improved only
slightly.

     "Don't I always brush my teeth?" he growled "Or do I snore?"

     "Jake, it's just -"

     "Just what? Let it go, Mulder, I'm tired. Just think puppies
- two of the same litter - and shut the hell up."

     Without another word they helped each other to work the hook
that locked belts and tails and then took turns slipping into the
bathroom. With thralls never being certain which bed they would
end in each night and with few on the island wearing enough
clothes to even hide a toothbrush, each room was equipped with
the basics - towels, toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo,
disposable shaver, shaving cream, hairbrush. Contacts removed
from aching eyes, teeth brushed and the shortest of showers taken
to get rid of the worst of the oil and sand and sweat, Mulder
limped wearily from the bathroom to find the room nearly midnight
dark. Jake had pulled closed the heavy blackout curtains that
effectively blocked the intense afternoon sun. In the sudden dim
light, Mulder could barely make out the shape of the man lying on
his side on the far side of the bed. Mulder slid under the sheets
on his own side and soon they were lying back to back with forth-
eight hours of history blowing like a little piece of Antarctica
between them.

     Physically and emotionally exhausted as he was, Mulder found
it impossible to sleep. Instead he listened - to footsteps in the
hall, the motor of a distant plane, the breeze in the palms, and
his bedmate's uneven breathing.

     Jake was as awake as he was.

     Mulder had always found loneliness to be rather like a great
black hole. It was around you and over you and under you but it
was deepest and darkest inside and as impossible to escape. If
Mulder felt such incredible emptiness how much more must Jake
feel. For the first time since before the two had met, Alex was
truly gone. Worse, Jake had been spurned for the second time for
a more interesting sexual partner. A man can only take so much
rejection, that Mulder knew from experience. But compared to Jake
Simmons? Not a contest he had any desire to win.

     Slowly, Mulder rolled over. After a long moment's
hesitation,  Jake did the same. The shadowed face that met
Mulder's was sunken deep in grief and the tracks of silent tears
glittered in the dim light. Almost imperceivably, they shifted
closer together. Mulder offered his shoulder, but Jake merely
curled against the warm curve of his friend's body.

     Within seconds they both slept.

End of Chapter 14
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (15/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 15

     The lean, strong muscles of the broad back moved sleekly
under the skin as their owner contemplated his playthings -the
straps and buckles and muzzles and, yes, the more invasive toys.
The man turned with a wide dog collar in his hands, a long strap
and a pair of padded cuffs linked by a chain. The arrogant stance
the figure took before Jake was Alex's favorite. There was no
need to speak, Jake knew what was demanded of him and with his
own body beginning to glow in anticipation, he slid off the bed
and crawled belly to the floor, head bowed, to where the tall
figure waited. There he knelt. When the heavy collar was fastened
tight about his bowed neck, he felt both the shame and the
glorious excitement that came with being desired. When he raised
his wrists for the cuffs his head came up enough to see into the
too-familiar glowing face. Jake didn't even remember if this host
was male or female; Alex's aura predominated. Once known, one
couldn't miss that hunger. But there was always the other, the
blood and bone behind the mask, the man or woman frightened by
all of this which they could not possibly understand but who were
aroused and made strong by their fear. Sex was as good a way as
any to deal with fear, Jake thought as strong hands jerked at his
bound ones. Alex raised him to his feet and pushed him towards
the hook that hung on a chain from the ceiling. A strap came down
stinging across his shoulders. Let the games begin once more.

     But this was only a dream. The reality would never happen
again.

     Never.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     It was nearly dark when the door to Jacob and Isaac's room
opened abruptly, revealing an unconscious tangle of two sets of
identical arms and legs. Of the two, however, only Jake heard the
intrusion. Roughly pulled from his dream, his face wet with his
tears for the third time in as many hours, Jake's distracted
brain at first made little sense of the paper that the messenger
delivered.

     It was from Lisa and Elliot. Standard orders just as it had
been ripped off the pad like a prescription. Jacob and Isaac were
wanted but so early? It wouldn't even be dark yet. Wiping his
face hastily on the sheet, Jake read the summons again, this time
looking for details. They would be called for at seven p.m. When
asked, the handler languidly reported that it was not quite six,

     Sitting on the side of the bed, Jake read the note through a
third time and pondered. All was in order. The message bore
Lisa's coded scrawl and the preparations were simple, but Mulder
wouldn't like them one bit, which was just the sort of thing Lisa
excelled at. Obviously, she was making good on her threat to see
to the deficiencies in 'Isaac's' training. Fox's partially bowed
knee hadn't fooled her. There had been no real submission in the
action, only fear. Jake hoped that 'Fox' rather than 'Mulder'
would be in residence tonight. Fox would be difficult enough, if
Mulder... disaster.

     A fourth read. A handler would be sent for each of them.
Jake bit a fingernail. Did Lisa know more than Jake thought she
did about this 'cousin' of his? Probably the attention was just
ceremonial. Jake hoped it was. Certainly, Elliot and Lisa must
know that they could trust Jacob to see that 'Dawn' and 'Dusk'
got where they needed to be.

     "The word on the streets," rumbled the Cockney messenger low
in his throat as he headed for the door to wait in the corridor,
"is that there's hard feelings about. The Master and the Mistress
had over three dozen calls for the two of you tonight. Unheard
of. A second handler has been ordered to keep there from being
any unpleasant incidents."

     Jake stared in amazement almost as shocked at receiving
unasked for news from a handler as by the number of requests.
Three dozen! From long habit, multiple shivers raced up his
spine, and yet... and yet... the old excitement just wasn't
there. There was interest and curiosity, certainly, but no
eagerness. In the bathroom mirror he stared at his face, pale and
old under the harsh lights. Pretty bad but the attendants in the
Green Room could fix a lot.

     They could disguise what was on the outside anyway. Their
area of expertise did not extend to what may be missing on the
inside.

     Jake shivered and switched off the light. For a moment he
stood in the little room barely large enough to hold the bed and
looked about him. His world had changed totally from last week,
from yesterday, and yet it hadn't.

     'I'm just tired,' he told himself as he turned to roust a
sleepy Mulder from his nest.

     As they followed the messenger to the Green room, their
conversation was furtive even though they were still inside the
Complex where speech between them was allowed. During most of the
walk Jake found himself forcing a joviality he did not feel.

     "Enough," Mulder whispered firmly. He'd been glum since
waking. He knew he would have to face - something - most likely
an unpleasant something that evening. "What's going to happen?"

     Having begun the process of wrapping himself in his persona
of the detached and servile thrall, Jake's face was as bland as
milk behind his faint, humorless smile. "A private party. Show us
off. Lisa and Elliot and a few friends."

     "Just that?"

     "Why don't you just say the word? Yes, there will be sex.
There always is. That's rather the point. You will be expected to
serve. That's your purpose and you being fresh meat -"

     Mulder shouldered Jake abruptly. It might have been an
accident; it wasn't. If there hadn't been large and burly
handlers nearby with whips and chains, he would have thrown the
other man up against a wall. "I won't do it!" he hissed.

     It wasn't anger Jake felt radiating most strongly from the
other man, however; it was fear. Truth be told, he wasn't feeling
overly frisky himself. In fact, a small dark closet would suit
his mood tonight but they really had no choice. Acute remorse
settled over him as he looked across at Mulder's closed and angry
face.

     What had gotten into him? How could he have been so wrong?
He had arranged this new torture for Mulder who had certainly
been through enough. True, there was Alex's influence, but he
should have fought harder. Had he rationalized his actions with
the simple argument that if he was doing it, it must not be so
bad. He had been so long with Alex curled inside him that only
now that she was gone was he beginning to realize the hour to
hour and minute to minute affect she had on his life? She had
directed the flow of his blood, the turn of his mind, his
reaction to every breath of wind. What lower form of life had he
descended to?

     "Please tell me that it isn't too late to get out of this,"
Mulder begged, very quietly. No, 'Fox' had spoken, the young and
frightened one.

     "For tonight it is. At night there is always a special,
mindless passion. Any rationality to be found would only be found
in the light of day. If you rebelled now - if you tried to
explain the fairy tale truth of what had been done to you -no
one would listen."

     "And retribution would be swift and hard and very, very
painful," Fox repeated as if he'd learned the mantra by rote.

     Jake nodded sympathetically. "Far worse than going through
with the evening," he said but could tell by the set of his
companion's shoulders that he hadn't convinced him.

     Ashamed, Jake realized that maybe pain and humiliation
weren't what Mulder was trying to get out of. It was only Fox who
was willing to trade surrender for that kind of degradation; not
Mulder. Mulder was too stubborn. Mulder would allow himself to be
dragged through hell for a year before he'd submit to one night
in purgatory just so that he could say that he had not
surrendered.

     That was it. Jake had finally gotten a hold on the problem.

     "Patience," Jake whispered. "I have an idea."

     "What?" Mulder asked suspiciously. "I think I've had enough
of your ideas."

     "It's not perfect but it solves the problem of Isaac being
the new boy in town - the one everyone will want to push to the
limit. Maybe I can even get Elliot to take Jacob aside for a
little 'special' time. Now that wouldn't be so bad."

     Mulder looked bewildered but followed almost meekly behind
his twin.

     They were in luck. The attendant in the Green room was one
Jake knew well, a big good-natured eunuch or if he wasn't he
could have fooled anyone. He was rubbing Jake down at the moment,
not with the heavy oil of the morning but a massage to wake up
the flesh, improve muscle definition and bring blood to the
surface for that healthy glow.

     "We want to play a little joke on Lisa and Elliot," Jake
said confidentially to the eunuch as he lay on his stomach. With
a wave of his hand he indicated himself and 'Isaac' who waited
uncomfortably but with slowly dawning enlightenment on the
adjacent bench. "We think it would be amusing to switch places.
This should be easy for you. Can you perform some of your magic?"

     The man was not too quick but a generous soul. He looked
from one to the other if only then realizing that they were
nearly identical already. Jake rolled on his side and showed the
white scar from the operation on his knee. With a tiny bit of
sweet hope finally stirring on the surface of his despair, Mulder
raised a leg to show the long scar on his inner thigh and then
pointed to the round white patch from the bullet hole on this
shoulder. The big man burst out with a laugh that Jake hastily
quieted with a finger to his lips.

     "This is a secret, Ben. You know... secret..."

     "Secret," Ben grinned and swung open the cupboards of his
station. He could make scars, he could take them away. He could
even change mostly brown hazel eyes to mostly green and visa
versa. It was such a good joke the old attendant was even willing
to unlock the bracelet from Jacob's wrist and exchange it with
Isaac's. This was an act that carried such a high punishment it
was unheard of. Jake seriously hoped the man wouldn't get fired
for it, but he had already decided that he would take the blame
and the punishment for everything. It was the least he could do
for this friend whom he had so severely wronged.

     A credit to his craft, Ben did a remarkable job. The subtle
changes were executed perfectly. In stolen words here and there
Jake tried to coach Mulder on proper behavior. It would be far
easier for Jake to pretend a mild defiance, a certain ignorance
of the rules of the game then for Mulder to behave with Jacob's
practiced assurance.

     Nearly seven. They waited in the Green Room's front lobby.
Mulder was pacing nervously when their two handlers finally
appeared. The first approached Mulder in his guise of 'Jacob'. Or
was that 'Fox'? Jake wondered. Whoever it was was almost too
calm. Still, Jake watched with concern as the handler handed
'Jacob' a paper and then turned away with the second handler to
grab a quick juice from the well-stocked refrigerator. Jake
drifted to Fox's side and quickly scanned the note.

     "Damn her!" Jake breathed without thinking.

     "What?" Fox asked. Like a doctor's prescription, he'd been
unable to decipher the handwriting.

     "She's changed her mind."

     "She's what?"

     "Lisa, the fickle wench, has sold us for the evening. Dance
card filled. That's the way it works here sometimes. The highest
bidder."

     "No," Fox declared, dropping his bare bottom dramatically
down onto one of the room's plain metal folding chairs and
crossing his arms across his bare chest in a sulk. Lisa and
Elliot were bad enough but at least he knew them. Now Jake was
talking complete strangers.

     "It gets worse," Jake added, deciding to get all the bad
news out in open at once, "they're separating us."

     Mulder sprang to his feet, eyes blazing.

     "This is not something we have any choice about," Jake
hissed, warningly. "This is what we're supposedly here for. This
says that Lisa tried to set up something where we could be
together but these clients aren't interested. How these two
particular clients came up on top, even over Lisa's plans, I have
no idea. Elliot and Lisa vouch for them, that's all I know and
that has been enough for me in the past."

     "I won't," Mulder snarled, his jaw hard set.

     "You will. Think, damn you," Jake hissed. "You saw those
poor sots in the public lavatory. Uppity thralls. Nothing
physical but try three days of scrubbing the floors in there on
your hands and knees stark naked - or do you prefer the role of
an attack dummy for the handlers?"

     All the hard-fought color drained from Mulder's face. "They
wouldn't."

     "We've been through this. It's in your contract. Want to
read it again?" Jake pulled Mulder back onto the cold chair and
crouched down close beside him until he was facing this odd
'brother' of his. His expression was deadly serious. "Tomorrow
we'll tell Elliot and Lisa everything. Tomorrow I promise. It was
wrong of me not to before and we can't get in touch with them
now. After all you've been through, can't you just forget that
this one night happened?"

     He shouldn't have reminded Fox of those long months of
helplessness and shadowy animal passion.

     Mulder's glowering eyes burned, but at least his color had
returned with his anger.

     "Fox, I know the issue is your going only with this
voluntarily. If it's any consolation, Lisa's note indicates that
this will be just one person, not the zoo you've been exposed to
all day. Can't you turn off your brain and let it happen just
this once?"

     There was no change in Mulder's expression. "And you can't
be there."

     "I told you, I can't."

     Every fiber of Mulder's body screamed 'Resist!' but the
memory of what could happen if he did turned his stomach inside
out. Fox would have to handle this; with his history, Mulder
didn't dare.

     Their handlers were returning. They could have been just two
working men off to do a job except that they were dressed in
leather and iron and wore scarlet cloaks like Imperial Rome meets
Mad Max. In their hands they carried objects which not a person
on the island would have any problem recognizing.

     No more time... No more time... Reluctantly, Fox let out a
long, long sigh. "What will I have to do?" he asked in a barely
audible croak into Jake's ear.

     Jake pulled up his weak-kneed companion as he rose from his
crouch. In the process he gave the muscular shoulder beside him a
sympathetic squeeze. "Whatever the customer desires."

End of Chapter 15
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (16/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)
          &nbs p;          &nb sp; See disclaimer: Chapter 1.

Chapter 16

     It was when the handlers approached that Fox found out what
the customer desired in the way of 'costume'. It was no different
than what Lisa had ordered but there was no point in Jake going
into that. Upon hearing the handler describe the requirements,
Fox nearly bolted through the nearest window. Reading the dread
in his 'cousin's' body language, Jake neatly moved to block that
route of escape. The second grinning handler had already blocked
the other. In a harsh whisper Jake reminded Mulder that these two
very large men had a job to do and that job was to complete each
thrall's preparations and deliver them to those who had reserved
them for the night.

     Deliver or else.

     Since speech between working thralls was discouraged from
this point on - and what Fox was thinking would be unprintable
just about anywhere anyway - he merely scowled fire at Jake.

     As such things were done at the Club, the remaining
preparations were simple enough. They had already been bathed and
oiled by the eunuch Ben. Soft padded cuffs were placed on their
wrists. Since hands cuffed in front or behind the body was not
specified, Jake indicated that both would take hands cuffed in
front since their everyday loin cloths would now be removed for a
much abbreviated version - ones practically useless for actually
hiding anything. The general fashion statement at the Club was
'conceal only to reveal'. Other than the collars and leashes that
were still draped in coils from their handler's belts that was
all that was called for - which was far too little even for Fox.

     He was doing more than frown now. His muscles went rigid as
steel as he watched Jake 'prepared'. It was when they brought the
cuffs and scanty square of buckskin in his direction that he
flipped out. The brawny duo didn't turn a hair. They heartily
enjoyed the challenge of a resistant thrall. They thought he
wanted to play and they were more than willing to go along. Once
the collar and cuffs were on, the exchange of loincloths went
somewhat more smoothly. There are parts of a man's body you just
don't want to mess around with.

     Only Jake saw the extent of the terror when Fox first saw
the cuffs. Mulder reappeared in one millisecond of pure panic.
Jake had not considered how Agent Mulder might feel about being
bound. It ceases to be fun when it's happened to you for real.
Jake had been truly imprisoned once but he had been in such bad
shape from the start that its memory had been delegated to that
place where bad nightmares go. But for Mulder this was infinitely
harder and for that Jake did all he could to get him through it.
He held those terror-stricken eyes with the gaze he once reserved
for hard negotiations with high rollers back when he was a full
partner in his architectural firm. When Jake Simmons actually
worked and created, it was not uncommon for the firm to be
awarded contracts for skyscrapers which would have impressed even
The Club's wealthier clients. Jake hoped that same dispassionate
intensity would lend Mulder strength. It seemed to help. With the
fear dimmed to manageable level, it was Fox who looked out of his
own eyes and he was looking very fine - proud and beautiful, wild
and desirable. When the red collar went on with its leash of
silver chain, that was when Jake felt his own heart begin to
pound and his mouth go dry. Maybe it wasn't all to do with Alex
after all.

     Now Jake regretted, truly regretted, that they would not be
going to the Villa. Lisa would have had them perform - together -
just so she could watch. The surge of arousal Jake felt at that
moment was the strongest he'd felt since Alex's departure.

     There was no time to think about that now. No time for
regrets either way. The leash was snapped to his own collar and
Jake was led out into the early evening air. Fox followed with
his own handler. The die was cast.

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     As they walked with their escorts, Jake wondered what Fox
was thinking. What Fox was thinking was whether he could hold
onto his sanity. Seeing the set of Jake's shoulders ahead, Fox
was reminded of the night before. After returning from their tour
of the staff complex, he and Jake had sat side by side with
glasses of wine on the beach. Hidden by the moonless night, they
had watched the starlight dance on the waves. During that brief
interlude, his delivery had seemed miraculous and the island's
night beautiful. Scully was coming and everything... possible.

     Still in a daze from all that had happened in the past
twenty-four hours, Fox had talked, talked to Jake more than he
had ever talked to anyone before. They had discussed 'magazines'
and how certain pictures made them feel. They had laughed over
videos they had both seen and compared their favorites. They had
talked about the long dark hours alone while the rest of the
world slept warm two by two. Fox knew by the time the second
bottle of wine was empty that Jake knew just what a starved and
lonely soul he was dealing with. Of course, Jake had talked, too.
About Alex. About the things he had been trained to do here. And
Fox had found his pulse galloping.

     "You're embarrassed by the way you feel."

     Fox had shrugged and looked for a dibble of wine in the last
bottle.

     "You have no idea what a relief it was to come here," Jake
had said, wistfully. "I didn't have to worry about friends or
colleagues ever finding out. And it's been better than any
fantasy I ever had which, of course, is always limited to what
one can actually imagine. There's a release to giving in, letting
go, and allowing someone else to be in control. Heady stuff to
allow people who think like you do to do things _to_ you that you
have never even dreamed of doing to yourself. You should try it
once, in your right mind. Just once."

     Dare he? Fox wondered as he followed on the heels of his
handler, head bowed. First, did he have a choice? He did. He
could scream, he could fight, he could be locked away and
punished. It would hurt and there would no chance of anything
even disturbingly erotic happening. Just pain and humiliation.
Pointless.

     And Jake had promised; in the morning the real story would
come out. Then there would be no more need for games. This would
be the last chance now. There would be no excuse for Lisa's
'training'.

     'Excuse?' Fox found that his feet had come to a sudden halt
at the same time his mind did. A jerk on his collar got at least
his body started again. Here he was; nearly stark naked, his
hands were bound in the kind of cuffs they sell in sex shops
anywhere and one of the biggest and ugliest men he had ever seen
was leading him about by brass-studded dog collar.

     He should be thinking shame and disgrace. He should be
thinking about the mystery client who had bought his services for
the next twelve to sixteen hours. He should be thinking about
what he would be asked to do. (No, not 'asked'. What would he be
told to do.) He should be thinking what would happen if Scully
should see him right now, if anyone he knew should see him right
now. But what was uppermost on his mind? That he was going to
miss the lovely Lisa going at his body the next day with who knew
what exquisite tortures.

     And he was disappointed.

     What has happened to me! clamored so loudly through his mind
that he was surprised that the words didn't echo off the
buildings as he was led from the thrall complex, through the
nymph and satyr iron gate, and across the gardens by the largest
of the pools towards the Palm Hotel. At least he had this night.

     One night, and no one need ever know.

     I am mad.

     They were led to a side door, a servant's entrance. How very
appropriate. In a small barren vestibule the handlers let their
charges stand while they went to have orders checked and to pick
up room numbers. The vestibule was far from empty and there was a
line the hotel was booked solid.

     Fox's madness dimmed in light of his amazed curiosity. He'd
never seen so much brazenly bared flesh in one place before and
he suddenly realized how much easier that made his own nakedness.
It was like being at the pool. You wouldn't wear your 'Speedo' to
a business meeting but it was fine if you were lounging about
picking up a few 'rays' and everyone else was wearing not much
more. The shame of the collar and cuffs was pretty terrible, but
mild indeed and far more comfortable than the costumes many of
the other slaves wore who waited while their own handlers to
check in.

     There was low buzz of voices. Safe within the crowd you
could talk quietly to your neighbor. Mulder wondered what one
talked about with someone when you were dressed as a Rockette
chorus girl - and you happened to be very clearly male - or when
your neighbor resembled a peacock in full plumage. Baseball
scores? The weather? Bill Clinton's latest liaison? What was the
best remedy for jock itch?

     The whole circus was so bizarre, Fox felt his mood
definitely picking up.

     They did this for _pleasure_, Jake had said. This is suppose
to be fun.

     Fox kept repeating this to himself. He wondered how long it
would take for him to believe it.

     Jake had momentarily disappeared, now he slid up to Fox's
side, eyes positively glowing until they reflected the green of
the brass studded collar he wore. They had been instructed to
remove their thin sandals as they entered this waiting room and
Jake's bare feet were nearly dancing.

     Clearly the man had news. "What's up?" Mulder whispered,
innocently.

     "You - or at least I hope so very soon."

     "Pleeeease..."

     Jake's voice was low but clear. "I'm serious. There's an
attendant I know over there. He's worked for Lisa and Elliot for
years. Just like masters and servants, everyone talks in front of
thralls as if we were pieces of furniture. I just found out that
Lisa and Elliot had a couple of very curious visitors just a few
hours ago. And one was a woman, a very hot, very petite,
redheaded woman. They were talking about us, particularly about
you."

     Fox's world imploded.

     Shit!

     Wait... he didn't really think that, did he?

     Jake went on, oblivious to the nuclear bomb he had just set
off in Mulder's brain. "Fox, this has been bothering the hell out
of me. Lisa wouldn't change her private dinner plans for just
anyone, not after her triumph today. She would only give that up
for something, or someone, extraordinarily special."

     Fox felt like reaching out for something to hold unto as if
he were suddenly standing on the business end of a wildly
swinging pendulum. He should be happy about this, shouldn't he?
It wasn't certain, of course, he told his alternately leaping and
sinking heart. There were a lot of small, good-looking, red-
haired women in the world. It was just, why now when he wearing
this.... or .... oh, god... not wearing this?

     During their walk with the handlers, Fox had shut his eyes
to the images of himself in all the mirrors and reflective
surfaces they had passed from pool to windowpanes to chrome
planters. Now he allowed himself a despairing and wavering view
in a last primping mirror, which the management had set up by
door that led to the elevators.

     He didn't look... bad. For once he was rid of that little
jowliness that had been creeping up with the years and those
'love handles' he'd been developing with too much office work.
The effect just wasn't right for Scully. But after four months...

     Maybe she'd be so happy to see him that she wouldn't notice.

     Yeah, sure.

     Then look on the bright side.

     Fox felt the furrow in his forehead deepen. In addition to
the not insignificant matter of being rescued, there had to be a
bright side. Maybe, she'd be so happy to see him that she'd take
advantage of the situation?

     Sweat instantly broke out on his body. It had something to
do with the blood rushing to his face and the pounding of his
heart and all was confused with the king of all hard-on's, the
kind such as he had not had since he was sixteen. Jeeze!!! Jake
had said that they were going to be taken to different rooms.
What had first caused dismay had kindled to Fourth of July
fireworks in Fox's imagination. Maybe she already _knew_ and so
the change of plans.

     The sparkles dancing in his brain made it hard to think.

     Calm down. Calm down. Luckily, both Fox and Mulder had
become expert at doing that. Not only was Scully's proximity
damned distracting - all it took was the faint scent of her
shampoo - but a man in Jake's current profession just had to have
some control over things like pure panic and arousal at
inappropriate times if he wanted to stay alive for long.

     So would Scully join in with the spirit of the place? Maybe,
but unlikely. What was more likely? She'd be so furious with him
for worrying her that she would take advantage of his
helplessness and really ream his ass! If she took her anger out
literally, that may not even be so bad. Considering the way this
place had warped his brain and his reflexes, and considering the
'equipment' they kept in the rooms, _that_ might be the very best
outcome of all.

     Fox had abandoned current time and space until a rather
savage jerk on his leash brought him careening back. He was still
wavering between daydream and reality when a huge hand on his
shoulder spun him around and a voice laughed at his awkward
steps. From Jake, however, he had caught a covert wink and the
lifting of one corner of his mouth just before he was also turned
and directed to take the lead in their little procession. Clearly
having done this before, Jake led them out of the check-in area
and down a bare hallway to a bank of elevators. The reason for
the wink and the smirk became clearer when Mulder caught the
lingering traces of a besotted expression on his own face in the
bright metal inside the service car.

     Within ten seconds of exiting onto the fifth floor all
lingering fears Fox had of being conspicuous were laid
irrevocably to rest. Not only were the thralls in incredible
stages of dress - or undress as the case may be - but the clients
seemed to have gone to just as much trouble and expense with
their own fantastic creations - pirates, spacemen, deep-sea
divers, all variety of animals and animal tamers. Full punk and
uncomfortable Victorian high collars. It must have taken three
days to paint the exquisite and erotic tattoos on one young
woman's perfect body - unless they were real.

     Was this all really about sex or was this just an excuse for
a little play-acting for adults? Was playing dress up for sex
acceptable while playing dress up just for fun, was not? Was what
he was seeing here really the twentieth century equivalent of the
Star Trek holosuite? Look at the rising popularity of Halloween
for adults. Did the stress of modern life require such outlets
for adults? Or had we so organized our children's lives that we
didn't allow enough playtime in childhood. Mulder's behavioral
psychologist mind and Fox's quirky sense of humor were both so
enraptured at the thought that he momentarily forgot his own
situation - and his destination - and so was completely
unprepared for what happened next.

     The corridor they were moving down was cross by another
corridor at right angles. At the junction of the two, a pair of
very well preserved female clients of sixty or so were seated in
a small lounge drinking cocktails. They were also appraising the
merchandize in the same way that a shopper might select fruit at
a supermarket. Fox was completely unaware of all this however.
All he knew was that for some reason his handler was coaxing him
over to the right side of the hall with the riding crop he
carried. This left Fox within easy reach of the women who were
obviously regulars at their own version of the Game. The woman
with the most unnatural shade of orange hair had only to reach
out to stroke a firm thrall butt at the same time that the other
twirled a ruff of dark pubic hair behind the flap of the very
inadequate loin cloth. Fox easily shied enough to evoke not only
an appreciative giggle from the women but to earn him another
slash with the strap across the back of his calves. You heard a
lot about dirty old men; they didn't hold a candle to dirty old
women.

     "What's your name, honey?" one cooed.

     Fox didn't hear the handler pass on the information. The
blood that had flooded to his face even left his ears burning. He
felt about three inches tall - well, except for a certain part of
his anatomy that was decidedly more than three inches. He thought
he had that all under control. Now he had to start all over
again.

     Think of cold. Arctic winds and blowing snow. Brrrrr..

     Could humiliation really do this? It had when he was sixteen
but was it still possible? Obviously, the management of the Club
was onto something.

     Alongside Mulder's musings, Fox had made his own decision.
He had learned his lesson. He had pushed the edge of the envelope
quite enough. His handler was having far too much fun. He made a
resolution not to give the man any more opportunities to practice
his craft. The sting of the strap and the jerking about of his
lease and the unwanted hands on his skin was getting really old.
He was tired of calling attention to himself. He'd follow Jake's
example and remember his proper place in the order of things
here. Silent, face forward, no expression, head properly bowed in
appropriate supplication.

     It did take a few biting cuts with the whip end of the
riding crop for him to get that part right.

     Leaving the old women, they took another right turn and
there followed a space of comparative calm. Jake was in the lead,
then his handler, then Fox, then the brute with the riding crop
that followed him. Fox had give his brute - Baron was his name -
no cause to use that crop for at least twenty steps and the
sadist was probably seething, but at least Fox was able to think.

     Just then Jake's handler barked something unintelligible and
Jake stopped and turned obediently. It was a string of numbers
the man had called out. They were on the door Jake now faced.
While the man double-checked the digits on what looked very much
like a receipt, Jake dipped his head and cast a sidelong glance
in Fox's direction. Fox felt a renewed surge of unease. This was
where they parted company. Jake's hooded expression attempted to
be reassuring.

     Buck up.

     At that moment, though, Fox didn't want to 'buck up'. He
didn't want to go through these next few minutes alone. Even if
he were being taken to Scully, having Jake present wouldn't be so
bad. Scully liked Jake. Scully would be less likely to shoot him
if Jake were present. Besides, Jake's information could be wrong.
It might not be Scully who awaited him. It could be... anyone.

     Or more than one. The client who had bought him probably had
friends. He and Jake had never discussed the many-to-one scenario
at the Club. Considering the months when it was just his body and
the Gold against - how many of Forsyth's closest buddies? -
Jake's skirting that subject was not surprising. Or was there a
rule about that sort of thing? Maybe it was like the licenses you
bought with software where you paid per installation. Maybe, but
that didn't mean that people didn't cheat.

     From his hiding place deep down, Mulder growled a warning.
Get a grip, Fox.

     Fox's legs felt weak. Even more frantically than before he
tried to think of a way for he and Jake to stay together.

     Jake saw the panic rising. He shook his head just the
tiniest bit in warning just as his handler knocked on the door
and swung it open. Fox went against Jake's instructions; he
raised his head, he stared inside the room.

     It was dim inside. Someone had drawn the drapes against the
intense pre-sunset sun. That was all he saw for soon the doorway
was filled with Jake's back. There was the tight collar like a
thick bright, green-spotted snake against the back of his bare
neck, then Jake's handler also filled the doorway, then the door
shut.

     Fox stood shock still. Something was wrong. Something more
wrong then his being alone for the first time since all the
strangeness began.

     Jake's was wearing a green collar. He heard Jake's laughing
voice again, "Green for money, I guess." But green was Isaac's
color. Wildly, Fox stared down at his bound wrists. A bit of red
bracelet peeked out from under the wide, soft cuffs. Red for
Jacob.

     Just a harmless little joke for Lisa and Elliot. A little
masquerade to take some of pressure off Fox. After all, it was
Isaac who was the new boy in town. The allure of 'fresh meat'
again. But that had all changed and they had both forgotten! This
was no party for Lisa and Elliot. Green-collared Isaac was
supposed to be for....

     Scully.

End of Chapter 16
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (17/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 17

     "No!"

     It had been so long that Mulder had spoken in something
approaching a normal speaking level that the ragged sound shocked
even him. He was given no time to say anything more. Even before
the shout, the handler had sensed something and he'd been more
than ready for an opportunity like this. Probably an order had
come from Lisa to be on watch. Isaac had signed a contract that
he wanted to be taught; Isaac would learn, whether he wanted to
anymore or not. Her command had probably been non-specific
assuming it would be 'Isaac' who would prove troublesome, not the
good thrall 'Jacob'.

     The handle end of the riding crop came down hard across
Mulder's back so unexpectedly that all the air rushed out of his
lungs.

     "Silence!"

     Agent Mulder didn't take orders well when his adrenaline was
flowing. "But it's all wrong..."

     As swift as a striking snake, one of the handler's iron-
muscled arms had locked around Mulder's throat and under his
chin. He yanked Mulder's head back, the beefy forearm digging
into the collar, blocking the air. The other arm was wrapped like
a python around Mulder's struggling body.

     Pinned well and truly.

     "Feeling a little frisky, are we pretty one?" The huge man's
excuse for a purr rumbled in his chest like an idling bulldozer
against Mulder's back. All this had taken mere seconds but long
enough for Jake's handler to reappear. The door to the room -
Scully's room? - must have opened and closed again but Mulder
never heard it. All he heard above the roar of frenzied blood in
his ears was a distinctive chuckle.

     Shit! He'd just made the Baron a happy man again.

     With the added help, 'Jacob' was rudely and expertly gagged
and blindfolded. Just as swiftly his wrists were unbound, his
arms were wrenched behind his back, and then they were bound
again. Even the tiny loincloth was ripped away.

     A smoke-scented breath blew across his ear. "You don't like
it this way, do you? Feeling a little... exposed?" The crop swung
and connected just a little, like a kiss. It was just that its
target was so sensitive. Mulder had consistently kept his hands
low before, his only protection besides the little wisp of cloth.
Now nothing. Nothing _at all_. He was far more helpless now, too.
With hands in front he could have raised them at any point and
pulled at the thick pad of Velcro with his teeth. Now release was
impossible without help.

     The leash jerked. "Just because you can win races, don't
give you the right to forget your place. You're still just a
slave and I can have you if I want. Do you understand that,
teacher's pet?"

     Mulder should have suspected this. Jake was clearly Elliot's
favorite and shared some special place with Lisa. So resentment
and jealousy were evident even this place. He wondered if Jake
knew?

     A sharp thrust of Baron's palm against the center of
Mulder's back sent him staggering forward. Blind and with no
hands to feel his way, his shoulder hit sharply against the
corridor wall.

     "Clumsy, clumsy. Wouldn't want to bruise anything."

     "Need any help?" Jake's handler asked with undisguised
amusement.

     "Nah, just feeling his oats. I can deal with this." And he
could. Mulder was about as defenseless as a man can be. By now
even Fox had given up all pretense of enjoying his one night in
XXX-rated paradise. He would have shouted "FBI" at the top of his
lungs if that had been possible. With the gag, however, he could
barely breath. There was no way to fight that would not result in
something worse for him in the end.

     'The end' being the operative phrase here.

     He had no choice, therefore, but to allow Baron and his
riding crop to move him forward as a swineherd uses a stick to
drive his pigs. Tap on the right shoulder, or the right buttock,
move right. Poke on the left side, move left. In despair, every
dark, dragging step took him further from where Jake had been
delivered in his place.

     'In his place....' Mulder nearly choked on the brittle,
ironic laugh that struggled to burst out of its cage in his chest
with a flood of tears. He hoped Jake enjoyed his revenge. Jake
had been taken in Mulder's place before with far worse results.

     The hotel was large and they must have left Jake off on the
far side from their destination. Had this been planned from the
start? Shuffling blind, toes scraping along the carpet, the walk
seemed to take an eternity. It didn't help that Baron was pleased
with himself and proceeded to shout ranty jokes at the top of his
lungs, most of them concerning various parts of his charge's
anatomy. There was no anonymity now. Every eye must be on them.
The blindness made it worse because Mulder had no way of knowing
if two pairs of eyes watched his ignoble passage, or twenty, or
none. All he knew was that his face behind the blindfold was
bright red. Sweat trickled down into the small of his back.

     Finally, Baron jerked back one last time sharply on the
leash. At least, Mulder thought, the walk and the waiting were
over. In the back of his mind he had been clinging to the forlorn
hope that the red-haired woman had been Scully and that she might
be waiting for him after all. That she had seen them together and
even from afar knew which was which. Red or green collars
wouldn't matter to her, only to the handlers, but body language
would. At least part of the time, however, he had been mimicking
Jake.

     Mulder, was so emotionally battered by this time that even
the panic that should have sprouted in his stomach was a sorry,
limp thing. Embarrassingly, other parts of his anatomy were not.

     Baron leaned forward to knock sharply on the door. What with
the surge of blood in his ears and the fabric of the blindfold
that muffled sound, Mulder didn't hear an answer but Baron must
have. He opened the door. The wilted panic in Fox's stomach
suddenly raised up like the man-eating plant in Little Shop of
Horrors.

     'Get the hell out of here!' the newly pumping adrenaline
screamed. But then there was Fox's voice, the part of him that
stepped eagerly into dark places under the earth and haunted
houses. He was desperately urging that they 'Stay and find out
what happens.' Certain parts of his anatomy were going along with
that suggestion - insisting quite definitively - and the
insistence was coming very close to overloading Mulder's brain.
That was what shocked and horrified Mulder more than anything -
his body's betrayal. Actually, the betrayal belonged to the
comparatively young 'Fox' who wanted very badly to experience
this. Was this the 'high' that drove supposedly sane young men
and women to indenture themselves. This incredible mixture of
terror and exhilaration and anticipation?

     There was that seductive mixture again.

     It took two savage jerks on the leash to get the thrall
'Jacob' to uproot his feet and allow himself to be pushed inside.

     The carpet here was more lush than in the hallway and molded
between Mulder's toes. He was aware of a change in the air. It
was cooler, scented slightly from cleaning solvents, scented
soaps and a slight perfume though it could have easily have been
a man's cologne.

     Abruptly, Baron's heavy hand came down on his shoulder
forcing him down on resisting knees, resisting only because he
wasn't oriented in space in any way. He could kneel and in the
process throw his face into a dresser. He didn't, however. Just
more of the thick carpet met his knees and nothing slammed into
his face. Meanwhile, the handler was making nice friendly noises
to the room's occupant - or occupants.

     "Sorry about this. He's been a bit difficult but his kind
can be the most fun if you know how to handle them. I take it you
do know how? Oh, thank you, thank you." There had been the rustle
of paper money. The occupant had tipped the handler for his
delivery, probably compensated the handler extra for all his
'trouble'.

     Distantly, Mulder felt Baron relinquish control of the chain
to the room's occupant but before that could register, the
handler's big hand was on the back of Mulder's head again,
forcing him to bend at the waist. The movement tightened the
leash and tugged at the collar. Choking and with his face nearly
touching the floor, Mulder heard the Velcro fasteners behind his
head rip as Baron roughly removed the blindfold and gag. Mulder
coughed and shuddered as light stabbed into his unprepared eyes.

     "Now be good," Baron warned, good-naturedly. On his way out,
the handler couldn't resist a slap to the thrall's raised ass
with the remains of the blindfold and gag he still held. Eyes
still shut tight, face inches from the carpet, Fox heard the door
open, then close, and all was silence. No movement at all, just
the rustle from a palm tree that must be right outside an open
window.

     At least he wouldn't being jumped on right away, but then
why should they? There was no need for hurry. He was 'bought' for
the evening. And how long into the night?

     In a better-late-than-never move towards self-preservation,
Mulder retreated again. It was Fox who opened their eyes though
he saw only pale blue carpet. From the movement of air and the
sounds of birds and rustling foliage, a window must be open. The
setting sun streamed in turning the blue to gold. At first he
only raised his eyes but his head was so far down all he saw was
part of the bed. By straightening his bent back he saw more. A
bit of wall, a suggestive picture. He was turned the wrong way.
The room's occupant was to his right. As no reproof was
forthcoming, he began unbending still further by slow degrees.
Now he saw a nightstand of white-stained wood trimmed in gold
leaf. So far, the room seemed no different than any other room in
any four star hotel.

     The leash swung as the person who held it shifted
impatiently. From the way the air moved, from the way the
floorboards sagged, Fox got an impression of size. This was a
large person. Mulder's stomach plummeted. He'd probably find it
down on the building's second floor when this was all over. There
had been such a small chance all along but he had allowed himself
to hope. With dread, Mulder slowly raised his head a few more
inches. Still receiving no rebuff, he raised it a little more and
saw two sandaled feet. Big feet. A man's feet.

     Shit... not again. This place was going to seriously confuse
his sexual inclinations.

     At least Fox's own twisted brand of fatalism had decided to
take over now that romanticism had failed him. Morbidly curious,
his eyes rose further. Well-formed male calves and thighs, small
but not skimpy teal-colored bathing trunks, the well-developed
torso of an active, mature man. No weak, desk-bound bureaucrat
this. Before Fox could raise his head far enough to see the face,
the man dropped the leash as if in disgust and made an abrupt
turn towards the bed. At first Fox thought he was expected to
follow but then he caught sight of the back of his customer's
head. He knew that gleaming skull better than he could currently
recall his own name.

     Fox vanished totally in a puff of reality. Mulder remained
on his knees, physically and psychologically unable to move a
single muscle at that moment. His exploding heart, though, was
certainly doing a damn good job of coloring his face scarlet.

     God didn't make holes as deep as the one Mulder wanted to
hide in at that moment.

     There came the impossible sound of the spread being whipped
with the flourish from the bed and then of the sheet being ripped
off as well.

     "Glad to see you looking so... fit, but I'm disappointed in
you. I thought that here would certainly be one place where you
couldn't cause any trouble."

     The sheet fell down in waves around Mulder's bare shoulders.

     "Do try to cover yourself, Agent Mulder, and get up from
there if you can. You have a lot of explaining to do." Before
Mulder could force his stunned body to concede with either of
these requests Assistant Director Skinner spoke again. "And since
you seem to be all mine for the next few hours there is something
I have always wanted for us to do together."

          & nbsp;     * * * * * * * *

     His own handler had similarly pushed Jake down to his knees.
He hadn't needed the reminder, it was just the way the fantasy
was played. He should seem reluctant. It stoked the fires for
both parties. He also saw nothing but the sea of carpet until the
handler had slipped out of the room. He waited. Whoever was in
the room with him had not moved. He sensed the presence just a
few feet away, heard the breathing. A trembling hand set up a
vibration along the leash, which was transferred to the collar
about his neck, and from there to him. Around the Club such
trembling in a client was usually caused by anticipation. But if
they were new to the game apprehension and shame could be just as
powerful. The same emotions bounced around inside Jake. The heat
in the room raised a few more degrees.

     As if this were a test of wills to see who would flinch
first, the client made no movement for an eternity, at least it
would once have felt so to Jake. When they came to the Club,
supplicants learned patience first of all. Your client moved
first, always. The touch, the order, the summons, the sting of
the strap would come; you just never knew how or when. That was
part of the play. Meanwhile, the tension just built up and then
built up a little more.

     All at once the chain leash dropped. Like a whip it struck
down the length of Jake's kneeling body from neck, down his chest
and belly, to graze his straining member before laying limp
against his thighs. His first reaction was that any supplicant
would feel. Stomach turned to lead in his belly. He had been
rejected. Then he reminded himself that the Club's game may not
the only game being played here. Against all his training he
began to raise his eyes. He found the woman's small feet in
sandals just where he thought he would.

     As he waited, Jake had already deduced that this client was
female. The scent of her overlaid the ever-present signature of
hotel and not entirely sanitized sex. The fact alarmed him. It
shouldn't be. He had expected a man. If wrong about this then
what else had he been wrong about? He had been so sure from the
few words he had gleaned from Peter, Lisa and Elliot's favorite
handler. He had sent Mulder into this against his will only
because Mulder had trustingly believed that he would find his
heart's desire at the end of his leash.

     Leash? Collar, leash, bracelet...

     Shit...

     Jake stared down at the slack chain lying limp down the
length of his chest and even touching Isaac's green bracelet on
Jake's left wrist. Maybe Mulder would have found her if he, Jake,
hasn't messed up royally once again.

     His eyes having raised as far as they could, Jake lifted his
head as Mulder would soon be doing. The leash slid along his
skin, even against that part of his anatomy that was erect no
longer. It had deflated as if by cold water.

     She was backed up against the footboard of the canopied bed,
her white-knuckled hands on one of the four posts which was
clearly the only way she was staying upright. Her face was as
alabaster pale as her hands. The size of the lead lump in Jake's
stomach grew to monumental proportions as he recognized that
countenance even though it was not the cool, perfect face he had
seen last. It was gray underneath the current pallor and there
were lines from far too many months of fear. Dark circles
shadowed her eyes. A sickness of spirit had eroded her soul.
Hadn't he seen the signs in his own face for almost a year after
Alex's took her life? Here, too, was four months of built up
sorrow and desperation, sleepless weeks of searching and distress
and fear. Each nightmare scenario worse than the one before. She
had aged ten years since the last time he had seen her, not eight
months. A tiny gasp, the tip of her ocean of her pure pain
escaped when their eyes met and she saw the sorrow and apology in
his eyes. That was when she was certain of what she had already
suspected but did not want to admit.

     She didn't because to say the words would make them true.
This was not he.

     In the same instant, Jake realized just how wrong he had
been from the start. Wrong, wrong, WRONG! This was not the time
for Games. These were real people and theirs was real anguish and
he had played with their lives like some sadistic puppetmaster.
With his teeth he ripped at the Velcro of the cuffs, then his
hands came up and in no time found the clasp of the collar.
Within seconds it was dashed to the floor along with its chain
and he was on his feet and had enveloped the small quaking body
in his arms, had pulled the limp head with its lusterless, red
hair down onto his shoulder.

     "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he murmured over and over
trying to cover the sobs that were so heartbreaking to hear in
one so strong. But even the strong can break when hope has been
shattered as cruelly as he had shattered hers.

     She hadn't been deceived, or, if she had, not for long. Her
hand touched his left shoulder and Jake glanced down. She had
found a loose flap of the spirit-gummed 'skin' that held his
'scar' in place. She probably hadn't even needed to find that.
She undoubtedly knew every centimeter of that scar. The night
before when Jake and Mulder had sat on the beach drinking wine
they had discussed much. At one point they compared war wounds
and Mulder had told him how that one had come to be.

     The pride Mulder felt for his partner had flowed out of him
at that moment, a beautiful thing to see. And all the while
Jake's mind had been in the gutter trying to devise some way back
into Mulder's bed for the night.

     He hadn't succeeded.

     As the torrent of tears slowed, Dana pushed herself away
from Jake's embrace. "Where is he?" she choked in both sorrow and
rage. "Is he even here?"

     "Oh, yes, Definitely here and he's well. A little confused
but well. Dana, this is my fault - everything that's gone wrong
has been my fault but this," he indicated the fake scar, "this at
least was honestly meant to divert attention from him. The new
boy in town was just too popular and he was taking it hard. I
wanted to take the heat for him for a while. At the time we
didn't know. We had no idea that we'd find you here so tonight."

     Impatiently, she waved his explanation aside. "What matters
now is where _is_ he? We -" Abruptly, Dana Scully sat down on the
king size bed. Jake was surprised that she'd even known where the
edge was. Her mouth gaped open. "Skinner... We set this up for
'Isaac' to be brought to me and 'Jacob' to be brought to -"

     "Skinner? Oh, shit. Like this?" Jake gestured down the
length of his might-as-well-be naked body and even stooped to
pick up the items he had been dressed in when he'd been brought
in.

     Scully nodded numbly then truly saw Jake for the first time
standing so... embarrassed... and so ... so... Well, there was
just so much of him.

     Imagining Mulder in her mind standing before Skinner, she
fell back onto the bed, her chest convulsing in a kind of
hysterical laughter.

     "You have not idea what we went through just to get here,"
she managed to get out despite the dying giggles, "or how much it
cost or how many strings we had to pull to get you two for just
one night. It nearly broke the department's budget. When the man
asked how we wanted the two of you 'delivered', I didn't even
know what he was talking about. It was the 'concierge' we
arranged this with who made the suggestion. I thought it was a
pretty good idea at the time. Once I had him here I didn't want
that slippery devil getting away. I had no idea that she meant
that he would be dressed in _only_ cuffs, collar and leash. Poor
Mulder. I just wanted to get back at him just a little, for what
he put me through all these weeks."

     Jake was all too painfully aware that what Dana had just
described was how he was dressed. Around strangers who would
never seen him again, skin was the dress of the day, but around
Dana he suddenly felt his nakedness acutely. That was easily
remedied. From the bottom drawer of a chest near the suite's
bathroom he rummaged around until he found at least some minimal
attire. Shorts and a T-shirt would do well enough. A few sets of
clothes were kept in every room in case a customer wanted to take
his _companion_ out for breakfast or dinner and naked thralls
were not allowed in the resort's restaurants except _as_ thralls,
to serve the meals or to serve their customers in other ways. Not
to sit at table.

     Dressed, Jake sat down on the opposite side of the bed.
Since the laughter had stopped, Dana hadn't moved. Her eyes were
fixed, staring at the ceiling.

     "So now you're here," he said, "and he's down the hall
someplace and I assume by now that he's learned his lesson but
good about allowing himself to be kidnapped. So now what?"

     "I wasn't being cruel to Mulder; he would have appreciated
the irony better than any wild display of emotion on my part. And
Skinner expected you - the way you are. He wouldn't have been
shocked, except to find out who he really had."

     "Then what are we doing sitting here?" Jake asked. "Let's
go!"

     "Where?"

     "To Skinner's room, of course." Jake was off the bed heading
for the door, but Dana intercepted her.

     Speedy little thing.

     "Jake, stop."

     "We can't, at least not right away. Skinner and I had a
signal. We have to wait for that. He wanted time to talk to you
and, of course," her eyes were positively huge, "I wanted time
alone with 'Isaac'. Besides, we can't just go walking the halls."

     "I don't understand. It's perfectly safe." For the first
time he really looked into the face of the woman blocking his
path. Her color had returned and at least some of the years had
lifted. More than that, there was steel now and cool reason. The
Agent Scully Jake had known in Washington was back. He wondered
if she had ever allowed Mulder/Fox to see her two sides.

     "You suspect trouble, that's it, isn't it? This Forsyth
character who kidnapped Mulder in the first place. Do you think
he's going to put in an appearance? Is that why you're even too
afraid to use the phone?"

     "We're cautious, not afraid. Besides, we have our own ways
of sharing information just as we're certain Forsyth does."
Seeing she had his attention, she allowed her body to sag against
closed door. She was clearly exhausted.

     "We only started getting serious about watching Forsyth
about two months ago. An informer overheard some conversation.
Before then he was only a suspect and we had so many others.
Mulder is not well liked in some circles. Before then we just
couldn't get any evidence on Forsyth and no sign of Mulder, of
course." Too tired to stay standing even with the wall for
support, she weaved her way back to the bed.

     "You've worried, haven't you?" he asked. "No, that was
stupid. Of course, you have."

     "'Worried' is not the word I would use. There is no word for
the way I've felt. Three months, almost four. Not a word, not a
clue. When we got the ampules and the blood samples from your
lawyer I think I stopped breathing. What with the cryptic message
you sent I immediately ordered extended blood typing on the
sample. When the typing agreed exactly with the one we have on
file for Mulder I must have cried for an hour. And where do I
find him? Cavorting around in a pleasure palace! Damn him!"

     She was near to tears again, probably had been all along.
Frustration and anger, fear and misery...

     "Don't," Jake said. "Please, don't blame Mulder. It was my
fault. He asked for a phone to call you while he was still half-
delirious from withdrawal. Rules are very strict around here and
it isn't easy for lowly slaves like us to get access to even an
inner-island phone much less get a line to the mainland. Still it
could have been done. I said he needed to wait because I didn't
want him punished - after what he'd been through he didn't need
that - but mostly it was because I didn't want to rock the boat.
I'd pulled his tight little ass out of the fire and I called in
my chips. Everything since then has been my doing, never his. He
came out of the drugs in shock - mental and physical. I took
advantage of that. In fact he's still in shock. That I didn't
fully realize what I was doing until this moment is no excuse. I
see now what a terrible mistake I made."

     Her chin was still trembling. "Bet he didn't mind so much
though. I've seen materials from his little hobby."

     "What a person may enjoy in private as a way to ease the
loneliness can't be compared to what they're ready to engage in
in public. He despised it here."

     A little light had come back into her sad eyes. "Every
minute of it?"

     "Well, I hope not _every_ minute of it," Jake admitted with
a mischievous half smile. "I think he might have just a little.
He would have enjoyed it more but for you. He was well aware of
what you must be going through - within, that is, the ability of
the human male to hold any thought in his head for long under
certain circumstances. And there was other complications."

     Dana's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What kind of
complications."

     "Whatever you're thinking it's not that. Alex."

     That got Dana's attention. She stared around the room
warily, as if she expected the ghost to materialize amidst all
the white, gilded furniture. Jake knew that Mulder had told his
partner about the ghost, something had to have killed the two ex-
cons who had tortured and had planned to kill, first Jake, and
then Mulder. Jake wondered, however, if Mulder had told Dana
about all of Alex's peculiarities.

     "Is she here now?"

     A shadow passed fleetingly over Jake's too-familiar
features. "We - ah - found her a new home. Just today. I know
that sounds crazy but it's true." Jake leaned towards Dana, his
tone earnest. "By helping me to exorcise myself from her, Mulder
saved my life - that makes twice now. I would never do anything
to hurt him and so believe me when I tell you that I know you
were never out of his thoughts for long. Forgive him. Go over to
Skinner's room and give the poor guy a break. He certainly needs
it." That crooked smile again. "I'll even offer to keep your boss
entertained for a while so you can try out that leash and
collar."

     Reaching for another tissue from the box at the bedside,
Dana sat up. Her sigh seemed to say 'If only...'.

     "I know you mean well, but no. As I said, I can't break
security. This is too serious. Forsyth _does_ have wind of the
changes here, though we don't know how." She leaned over and
patted Jake's hand the way she never would have touched Mulder.
"You did right keeping him here, even if your motives weren't the
highest. If he tried to get on a plane before we were in place to
cover the airport, he may have been lost to us. And if you tried
to call? That would have been just as bad. Forsyth would have
known all the sooner."

     Jake just stared, his startled eyes questioning. "You're
sure?"

     "Absolutely." Her shoulders settled securely indicating her
certainty. "Though _I_ probably would have arranged his free time
a little differently. We'll all just have to wait until Skinner
checks with the rest of our people and gives the all clear."

     "How long will that take?"

     "I have no idea. An hour, two, maybe more. My only
consolation is that Mulder is definitely not enjoying this
particular male bonding ritual with a certain FBI Assistant
Director."

End of Chapter 17
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (18/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 18

     The resort suites at The Club catered to all tastes. As in
the private suites at the Caverns, there was a closet of adult
toys. When Skinner headed towards that closet, Mulder's blood,
already cold, turned to ice. He nearly fainted when Skinner
pulled out a chess set.

     That was an hour ago. Since then he had sat hunched over the
chessboard, wrapped in his sheet, toga style, trying not to lose
his 'shirt'. He did lose quite a few of the anatomically
fantastical pieces before his heart rate returned to something
approaching normal. Skinner sat in his bathing trunks and a short
sleeved open shirt and played the game as if there was no place
else that he particularly needed to be at any time in the near
future.

     They played on two levels. While one part of their brains
concentrated on the moves, they quickly brought each other up to
date on the events of the last four months. For Mulder's part
there wasn't much that he remembered until two days before.
Skinner's story was concise and to the point and did an excellent
job of driving a few dozen knives into various parts of Mulder's
body. What Scully had suffered... Skinner hadn't needed to spell
it out. Mulder could read between the lines very well indeed.

     Mulder took his hand from his knight and for the first time
that evening, was truly able to look Walter Skinner in the eye.

     "Sir... for staying with her through this... I can never
repay -"

     Skinner dismissed the emotion-laden speech with a wave of
his hand. "You are both my agents, my responsibility. It was my
job."

     "Bullshit," Mulder murmured nearly inaudibly as he returned
his eyes again to the board.

     There was a small awkward pause in the conversation. Skinner
lost a pawn to Mulder's knight. "This wasn't how this was
supposed to have happened, you know. You were supposed to have
been delivered to Scully. I think she had a little speech
prepared."

     Mulder shifted uncomfortably in his sheet, slumping as he
did so onto his tailbone. "I can imagine." After a discrete
interval he tentatively asked basically the same question Jake
had. "Sir, why are we here?" He indicated the room. "Why can't we
just 'switch partners' as was originally planned. I'd rather hear
this lecture she's spent so much time on sooner than later."

     "Get it over with?"

     Mulder shrugged. "Something like that."

     Skinner sighed, in no hurry. "Believe it or not, Agent
Mulder, they do have security here. It is focused on Agent
Scully's room at the moment where they expected you to be
delivered. 'Isaac' is the one in danger here, after all, which
means, because of your switch, that Jake is. We don't dare
confuse the issue any more than it is already. Give it some
time."

     So Mulder waited and fumed. He bit his lip nearly raw and
lost more pieces - two pawns, and a bishop. Skinner didn't need a
degree in either medicine or psychology to know that all was
still not right with Agent Mulder. When Skinner's knight with his
particularly outstanding 'blade' hit on Mulder's queen who bore a
striking resemblance to Lady Godiva, Mulder conceded defeat.

     Irritated, sheets fluttering like wings, he lurched over to
the delicate French doors that looked out onto the suite's
balcony. Pulling back the sheer curtain, Mulder stared out over
the lawn towards the sea, though Skinner doubted his agent saw
much. The older man put the pieces away into their velvet covered
box and went to stand at his agent's side.

     "It's amazing," he began, conversationally. "I didn't know
such places existed, not with this level of elegance. In a way
you were lucky, it could have been much worse. Physically, at
least, you seem to have been cared for very well." Mulder winced.
He had explained about his captivity, the Monday through Friday
afternoon part anyway. "Agent Scully says the drug in the ampule
is very potent. She rather thought that after three months or
more on that stuff that she'd have to carry you home on a
stretcher again. I think she was almost disappointed to hear you
were up and around." Mulder gave his boss and sidelong glance and
caught the faintest smile. Then Skinner lowered his eyes. From
where he was standing and with Mulder's current state of undress
and with the fact that he had sweated off most of the concealing
makeup, the tracks on Mulder's arms were all too obvious.

     "There was more, wasn't there?" Skinner asked softly. "More
than being nearly comatose for three months?"

     Mulder hadn't described Forsyth's weekend activities. He
would have to eventually, but not now. Suddenly, like a
flashback, he couldn't breath. Skinner noticed the color draining
from his agent's face and quickly opened the nearest French door.
The fresh, ocean breeze helped. In a moment the black spots had
disappeared from before Mulder's eyes and his lungs seemed
willing to work again.

     "Are you going to be all right?" Skinner asked, his voice
was much gentler than Mulder had ever remembered hearing it.

     "I will be, just give me a minute. You're right there was
more -" Mulder's voice cut off abruptly. Something was wrong. All
at once he could feel it. Suddenly he could feel it. Not the
flashback, not any sickness. A warning, danger. The tingling
numbness across his shoulders, almost paralyzing in their
intensity. He was immediately aware that they were both standing
in the open doorway to the balcony. They were on the fifth floor
but there was another building as high or higher just across the
exquisitely manicured courtyard and they were concerned that
Forsyth already knew...

     Launching himself at Skinner, Mulder intended to knock them
both back into the comparative darkness and safety of the room.

     The dart came silently. Mulder barely felt it hit him low on
the back where the sheet had slipped away with his lunge. It was
a swift acting potion. It raced up his spinal cord within
seconds, paralyzing his limbs, shutting down his brain before he
could get out a words. An alarmed and startled A.D. Skinner
caught the younger man in his strong arms as he fell. He didn't
have any idea what had happened until he felt the prick and
looked down at the dart that now protruded from his chest. By
then, of course, it was too late.

          & nbsp;    * * * * * * * *

     Dana walked back and forth between the suite door and the
window for nearly fifteen minutes. If Mulder had been there he
would have told her, in his most irritatingly laconic New
Englandese, that he didn't know that the tenancy to pace was
catching. Mulder's absence, however, was the problem.

     An hour had passed since Jake had been brought to Scully's
room in collar and cuffs and skin. For the past half-hour they
had spoken little. Jake found it ironic that here he was, alone
in a bedroom with a beautiful woman on an island of pure
Bacchusian excess, and he had absolutely no desire to snuggle up
to her in any way. If there was ever a 'taken' woman, Dana Scully
was one.

     As they waited, Jake did his best to appear as little
Mulder-like as possible. Unfortunately, Jake had known Mulder in
the outside world only as the very proper professional FBI agent
or in his heroic mode in which he had looked and smelled very
much like the homeless man he had so successfully imitated. For
this reason Jake's choosing to spend most of the hour flat on his
back on the suite's couch in a white T-shirt and jogging shorts
only added a new level of haunted pain to Dana's too-thin face.

     At long last, a hesitant knock on the door. Jake rolled off
the couch just in time to come face to face with the small
concealed revolver that Dana had procured almost as if by magic
from a holster that road in the small of her back. The bathing
suit cover-up she wore over her camisole and shorts had certainly
hidden it well enough. Her tension was infectious. As Jake picked
himself up off the floor, he wished he had a weapon as well.

     Waving a compliant Jake behind her, Dana cracked the door
cautiously. When she recognized the round-faced, black-haired
man, she let the door swing open just enough to usher him in.

     "Well?" she asked when they were all safely inside and the
door closed again. "Is the building secure?"

     "Yes, Signora. Secure. We have seen no sign of Mr. Forsyth
or his associates." The man still looked distinctly uneasy,
however. Something was wrong.

     "How long have you known this?"

     "Thirty, forty minutes -"

     Dana's fair complexion darkened. "Then why - ?"

     "We have been trying to contact Director Skinner," the
security man apologized, and by the marked distress reflected on
the man's florid face it was obvious that he had. "He will not
open his door, however. For a while we assumed that he and the
young man were occupied - "

     Jake felt a sudden sickness in his stomach. Mulder and
Skinner? Never in a million years. But then, considering the sort
of activity this place was famous for, could he blame the
security man for thinking so?

     "We were told to report to Director Skinner first, but so
much time has passed. We became concerned. Under the
circumstances, therefore, we have come to you."

     Agent Scully was already out the door, her weapon held down
by her side, hidden as well as possible by the folds of her
flowing cover up. Jake was close behind. The little security man
rolled on at their heels.

     As Mulder had learned all too painfully, Skinner's room was
on the far side of the huge hotel from Dana's on the assumption
that two smaller targets would be harder to hit than one larger
one. Scully knocked quietly on Skinner's door. If there was a
pattern to the knocks, Jake thought, it was a subtle one. She
knocked a little louder and called Skinner's name though without
his title. Her voice was tight but not so tight as to be
unrecognizable. Still no answer.

     "Are you going to break down the door?" Jake asked, both
frightened and fascinated.

     Dana held up a room key. "That would be a little obvious,
don't you think?"

     All was quiet in the suite. Far too quiet. Jake's eyes had
gone to the bed first and was embarrassingly relieved to see that
though it had been stripped of bedspread and top sheet, the
bottom sheet was crisply white and unwrinkled except near the far
edge where someone may have laid down briefly. There was a box of
chessmen sitting on the table. A light breeze blew through the
room.

     The French doors to the balcony were open. Even Jake knew
that couldn't be right.

     Dana was the first to fly around the end of the bed. It was
she who found Skinner's unconscious body and the first
tranquilizer dart. It was Jake who solemnly held up a second dart
that he'd found on the floor near the side of the bed with the
rumpled sheet. The security man found that the connecting door
between Skinner's suite and the one next door was unlocked. The
suite next door was empty.

     There was no sign of Mulder except for a leash and an open
red collar.

          & nbsp;      * * * * * * *

     Elliot drove the big electric car with a reckless lack of
concern for anything except speed. His white-knuckled grip on the
steering wheel and intense expression prompted Jake to remember
that the Club administrator had once been a photographer in
cheery, restful places like Cambodia and San Salvador and Bosnia.
In body type the car resembled a large golf cart but there all
comparison ended. Certainly the power of the engine was unlike
any Jake had encountered before in such a vehicle. As for himself
and the others - Lisa, Dana and Skinner - they held on any way
they could. Of those glumly taking part in the bumping, swaying,
jostling and totally unwanted fun house ride, Skinner clearly had
the worst of it.

     The A.D.'s face may be the color of pea soup but no one
could claim to have heard him utter a single word of complaint.
Dana's handy shot of stimulants had brought him reeling with
nausea and dizziness into semi-consciousness on the floor where
he had fallen. He hadn't been very coherent at first but soon was
able to acknowledge that, yes, he and Mulder had been alone in
the room. They'd been playing chess.

     Jake's automatic response to that was 'what a waste!'.
Luckily, the words were drowned out by the engine noise for he
immediately recanted the crass tastelessness of the joke as a
miserable Skinner continued with his account. Mulder had been
shot with a similar tranquilizer. In fact, in an attempt to
execute a purely heroic, though thoroughly stupid move, Mulder
had been the first one hit.

     "But I don't understand," Jake exclaimed to a grim-faced
Agent Scully over the whine of the motor and the rush of whipping
palm fronds against the sides of the car. "How did they know to
attack Skinner's room? Mulder was supposed to have been in
yours."

     "Which was too heavily guarded. That's the point. They
weren't trying for Mulder," Dana explained, her face a frozen
mask. "They _meant_ to take you, Jake. Probably as a hostage."

     Events had happened so quickly that Jake hadn't put the
pieces together in that particular way before. How perfectly
ironic; Mulder had been mistaken for Jake Simmons this time. "And
instead of the fake they got the gold ring? Bet they were
surprised."

     He hadn't realized that he'd spoken aloud. If looks could
kill, Dana's chilly stare would have him six feet under the
Arctic tundra and still working his way through the permafrost
towards the warm place.


     Jake was relieved when Elliot and Lisa elected to remain
with the cart and the still recovering A.D. Skinner. All three
soon had cell phones to their ears, coordinating the search. Jake
walked quickly through the Disneyesque Haitian village, Dana only
a half step behind. He never knew what she thought of the place
because she didn't comment or even appear interested. Clearly,
her thoughts were far, far away.

     Since finding Skinner unconscious, they had been up all
night working on what could be done to find the fugitives before
they got their prize off the island. Elliot's minions were now in
place, searching. Jake was concerned that Dana had gone along
with his wild idea only because she had nothing else to do and a
body and mind that demanded that she still do something, but,
surprisingly, she hadn't scoffed at his suggestion. In fact, she
had accepted this avenue of investigation as, as likely to
succeed as any plan of the island's 'security' force and so here
they were. By the despair in her eyes, however, her hope for
Mulder's recovery by any method in the near future, wild or
otherwise, was nearly non-existent.

     After a few missteps on the only vaguely familiar paths,
Jake found the glade and his target. Madame Serena was
entertaining a group of enthralled clients with traditional
chanting and incense. This time the participants were also
required to partake of disgusting-looking, 'magical' foods that
resembled bleeding chicken hearts and dripping pig entrails. They
were, Jake knew, just fanciful concoctions from the Club's
inventive kitchens - or at least he hoped they were.

     "Madame Serena," Jake began bowing in ritual politeness,
though it was hard not to stare. The woman still appeared far
younger than her age though he sensed, with disappointment, that
there was no sign of Alex about her.

     She looked up from where she had been carving the 'chicken'
on a tree stump. Handing the gory knife to one of her attentive
'angels', she got gracefully to her feet and came to join Jake
and the ashen-faced, red-haired young woman who stood impatiently
at his side. Considering how firmly he and Mulder had been sent
away the last time he'd been there, he was relieved that the
woman's demeanor was so welcoming.

     As she approached, however, her smile faded as some of the
age and worry lines around her eyes reappeared. "You are
troubled," she said. "How can I help?"

     Jake's faint hope brightened ever so little. This had been
only a wild chance to begin with. With her offer of help maybe
this would work after all.

     "How did you know? Did Alex tell you?"

     Serena shook her head, elaborately beaded deadlocks
swinging. "For those who would see, eyes are enough. Your other
self, the very sad and angry one, isn't with you and there is a
bond of grief and fear between you and this woman." Her eyes
fixed on Dana who was still as stone. "His absence is the reason
you are here. He is even more a part of her than he is of you.
His loss is like a wound."

      Jake's heart quickened. She had been able to read even more
than she had hoped. "You see clearly. Isaac, as he is known here,
has disappeared. No, worse than that; he's been taken, kidnapped,
by some serious and dangerous people. We're afraid for our
friend, for both his body and his soul." Jake stared into the
woman's face, still looking for some sign of Alex. "We've sent a
team out to search and guard the airstrip, others to the marinas,
but they've found nothing. They have a head start. Alex knew Fox
intimately - Fox is his real name. I hoped -" No one noted Dana
Scully shuddering at the 'intimately' part. "- I hope she can
help. I hope that she can touch him somehow and give us some clue
of where they're keeping him. At the very least, tell us how he
is."

     Serena's beautiful face lost some of its beauty as she
listened. He did not like the sadness he saw there. "If only I
could help, but I did not know him well enough. As far as asking
for Alexandra's assistance, you know her. Do you think that I can
command that one to do anything?"

     "Only yesterday you did."

     "Once, and only because it was her wish to come. She is free
now and stronger. She learned quickly."

     Jake grasped the woman's thin shoulders more roughly than
he'd intended. "Please. We have nothing - nothing! - and every
minute that passes takes him farther and farther from us."

     Though he must have been hurting her, she made not attempt
to move away. "Be calm. Anger helps no one. It is your fear that
makes you so. You know that I would help her if I could. I
repeat: Do you think that I can call her? Like a dog? Yes, she
came, curious for the new experience, but I've fed her on ghost
food since and revealed to her the gates to the spirit world that
she had failed to see for so long. That's where she is now,
communing with her brother dead and sister dead. She is coming to
realize that _these_ are her people and that their place her
place. That is what we both wanted, isn't it?"

     But not now! Jake thought in wild despair. Not this quickly.

     "Can you at least try?"

     As if there was nothing she could do and she meant to return
to her dreaming clients, the slender woman slid out from under
his hand. Only reluctantly did she pause, her eyes caught by the
sorrow on the faces of the two handsome young people before her.
One seldom saw such genuine emotion in this place.

     Her multi-colored robes rustled as she wavered. "Very well.
It will do very little good unless she's willing, but I can at
least try."

     At that she raised her head and lifted her arms. In a very
short time, the forest began to stir. The high branches began to
bow and weave. For almost longer than Jake could bear, it was
like this and then the forest went back to sleep. Serena's thin,
bronzed arms dropped in weariness.

     "She is far away and my ties to her are weak." Serena
examined Jake with a measured stare. "But she knew you long. She
knew the heights and the depths of you. You, she might listen
to."

     His expression lightened at the possibility.

     "But there is danger that way," she warned. "Both to you and
to her. She may not choose to bind with me when she comes, but
with you, and she may not be willing to leave next time. You take
the chance of her remaining with you forever and she is far
stronger and more formidable now than before. Certainly beyond my
skill to expel her if she does not wish to go. Having once tasted
spirit food and having nothing else, she may think your living
essence worth a taste. Do you think she was bound to you before?
Do you think you know what slavery is? With your spirit part of
hers, your body would become her puppet. There is a word for this
that you know but which Hollywood with its B-grade horror movies
have made almost a joke. That does not mean that it is not real.
That does not mean that it is not a dreadful thing. And her? She
would become a monster and not because her will is strong, but
because she is weak. Is this help you need worth the risk?"

     Pale, Jake glanced down at Dana at his side. Her head shook
very faintly. "Mulder doesn't think that I believe, but in my
five years with the X-Files I've seen so much that logic can't
explain. Don't try it, Jake. Mulder wouldn't want you to. Not for
him."

     "Could I live with myself if I didn't? Besides, she never
hurt me before, at least not in any permanent way." Jake knew
that he spoke with more confidence that he felt. Considering the
empty way his heart had ached since Alex left him, he wasn't
certain about the no harm part. And would he have the will to let
her go the next time?

     Serena had suddenly gone still. Her head was raised as if
she were listening to a sound rising far off over the hills and
the roll of the sea. Her back stiffened. "It seems as though you
did not have to call for very long or try very hard." The woman's
rich voice was full of awe and more than a little fear. "She has
heard you already. She is coming."

     But to which one of us, Jake wondered, his lean body
suddenly tense and very cold. He watched Serena, waiting for some
sign from her or within himself.

     Still he waited.

     Then soft hands came around from behind him and covered his
eyes. Alex used to do that - when she lived.

End of Chapter 18
JAKE AND FOX JOIN THE CLUB (19/25)
by Wind (Windsinger@aol.com)

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Chapter 19

     He whipped around which forced the soft hands from his face
and the blue eyes that sparkled at him were bright as stars. His
cry was like one an animal might make when it is mortally wounded
for no words could describe the revulsion he felt. He wasn't
repulsed by Alex who was, even now, only Alex - a selfish,
willful woman-child - but for what she had done. This strong,
fierce woman had had to bear too much already. Not this
sacrilege, too.

     Physically, there was very little of Alex in the beautiful
face before him except for the shining, seductive eyes. Without
Alex's influence they would never look on him the way they were.
And then, glowing on the surface of Dana's tired skin, there was
that radiance that came from neither sun nor moon. This was
Alex's will, Alex's desire.

     Jake had seen Dana Scully glow with that energy only once
before. When he was still in Washington and recovering in the
hospital, Dana had come to visit and she was talking of Mulder
and for the first time since he had known her was neither 'on
duty' nor heartsick with worry over her partner's safety. She
must never have shown that side to Mulder or the man would have
bedded her long ago. So beautiful. That was how he knew that this
was Alex's doing. In her own mind, Dana would never shine this
way for Jake Simmons.

     Now with the island sun filtering fantasy-like through the
towering trees, Dana reached up to put her slim arms around
Jake's startled neck and draw him close into her warm embrace.
Swiftly, he thwarted the move, needing all his strength to trap
her arms at her sides.

     "Alex, no," he rebuffed, softly. "Not to her, not now. This
is not a part of the game."

     Dana leaned into him, sighing, the months of strain and
grief gone from her face. She was just a playful sex kitten who
would be more than willing to climb up into his lap.

     She purred. "Fox is attracted to her. I thought you would
like her, too. He thought about her all the time back there when
we were together in that dark place. He cried for her to come to
save him but _I_ saved him."

     Jake struggled to breathe. Separating his head and his
friendship for Mulder from his heart and his hormones was going
to be hard. From the very first when he had woke nearly naked on
the examining table in the FBI clinic to find this woman
evaluating his injuries, he had been attracted to Dana Scully. At
the time he had yearned for her more than he thought he could be
attracted to any woman but Alex. But she had belonged to Mulder
then. Now, however, here she was. Pressed up against his body,
soft and warm between his hands, so eager...

     "No..." He forced himself to look into those eyes again to
find Alex there - and he succeeded. In fact, it was Alex who was
easy to see. Finding the terrified and revolted Dana Scully would
have been impossible if it had not been for the tears that began
to uncomprehendingly fill and spill over those shining, playful
eyes.

     "Alex, look at me. Look! This can't happen! Do you
understand!" He was so determined to get through that he actually
shook her. "Can you take just one moment from doing what _you_
want and pay attention to what's going on inside this poor woman.
She is in pain. She is grieving. Alex, Fox is gone, do you
understand! He's been taken from her, from all of us! That's why
we came - to ask for your help - not for this!"

     From where he still had her arms trapped at her sides, a
hand slid along his flank, bare below the brief running short.

     "Damn you, Alex!" he snarled, almost in tears himself. "Is
there any humanity left in you at all? Open your heart if not
your eyes!"

     Slowly... reluctantly... that damnedably irritating,
bewitching smile actually began to fade and even more
unbelievably, the slender form began to tremble in his hands.
Even aroused, Alex never trembled, she... undulated... but Alex
struggling with the unfettered hurricane of Dana's emotions
might.

     "I only wanted to please you," came the words in Dana's
voice but unlike any voice Jake had ever heard her use.

     Unexpectedly, they heard Serena's rich accent. "Then please
him. All Jake wants is for you to look within and feel this
woman's grief and then go out and find this Isaac, this Fox
Mulder whom you seem to know. Can you do that? Can you tell us
anything?"

     Time blurred. Dana's body was stiff at first and then she
slumped so completely that Jake had to catch her. At first she
only trembled and then she began to cry. Somehow, Jake found
himself on the ground with her wrapped in his arms and he was
comforting her, her crying like that of a lost child. There was
nothing left of Alex now, but there was also very little of the
Dana Scully he had known. It was as if Agent Scully's thick
protective shell had been torn away and he were seeing this
woman's innermost self. He had expected to feel a frightened bird
in his arms, so fragile that his strength could crush her, but he
was wrong. He should have known. He should have expected that she
would be made of this silken steel. She could probably break his
arm in seconds if she tried. He'd have to remember not to make
this lady angry.

     She quieted and for a minute or more lay still in his arms
and that was when she began to cry again.

     "Shhh... what's wrong?"

     "Mulder... where is he?"

     Confused, Jake answered, "I thought that's what we were
doing
here, to find out."

     She raised a tear-streaked face and went on as if she were
talking to someone far away. "Where have you taken him?" she
begged, softly. "Please, I'll give you anything." And other
murmurs, incomprehensible.

     She began to cry in earnest now, soon in great wrenching
sobs. Jake pulled her head down on his shoulder so he could
stroke her hair and rock her as if she were a lost child.
Suddenly though, she squirmed and broke out of his arms to crouch
just out of reach.

     "Who are you? You wear his face... but you aren't Mulder,
you never can be. Why are you here and he isn't?"

     Jake searched the fiery essence that huddled before him. He
tried to read the way she moved and the light in her eyes.
Despite the concern he felt there was also relief. No Alex. This
was just Dana Scully, then, her hidden soul turned inside out.

     "I almost had him back," she whimpered. "He must have been
just outside the door and I didn't know. I should have known."
Her hands reached out, empty. "Mulder... where.... Oh, my... h-
heart," the last word was almost a prayer. "What if I never see
him again? Are you all I'll have left of him, his shell?"

     Jake jerked as if she'd struck him. 'His shell?' As if he
were just a copy, a poor substitute, an image of no consequence
without a soul of his own.

     In that instant, without warning, she convulsed, going
rigid, those steel bands of well-turned muscle locking. Catching
her again, Jake noticed how huge and staring her eyes had become.
Was Alex returning from wherever she had been? Instead, Jake
found himself fighting a tiger for the woman had erupted like
some wild thing who had found some need to attack - or was she
reacting to _being_ attacked? But by who? He hadn't touched her.

     Jake rolled with her on the ground, trying to contain this
kicking, squirming fury for her own safety is not his own. At one
point they come far too close to the fire for his comfort. She
was clawing at him - in anger or for protection?

     To protect his own face from her talons he found himself on
his knees, she under him on hers, his arms trapping hers again.
With a roar of anger she began to buck under him. Like an old
song known in the marrow of his bones, Jake was horrified to
recognize the rhythm of her struggles and the cry of genuine pain
that punctuated each surge of her locked muscles.

     It was as if he were... And she was...

     But he wasn't! He wasn't touching her at all like that!.

     As if she were on fire, he released her and scuttled away,
but her ancient dance didn't halt immediately as if she were
still being assaulted by unseen demons. Then just as if a door,
which had been open for a moment, had closed, she collapsed into
a small ball, her face in her dirt-stained hands. Just that
quickly she was that young child again sobbing out her broken
heart.

     He didn't hesitate to take her in her arms once more and
this time she didn't fight him. Instead she clung to him.
Unfortunately, he thought he knew what scene he had just
witnessed. He had had a taste of the phenomena himself.

     When she had cried out the first flood of tears, he pushed
back a fall of damp red hair from her eyes. "Dana, listen. What
just happened... Was it like the attack I had on the ship when
Alex let me feel Mulder dying? Don't be afraid, tell me."

      "No." The word came out hard, in denial. "No. They
couldn't, they wouldn't, the animals... " She spat.

     Jake shivered himself. "I think they did. I think they are.
Right now. What did you see, what did you feel?"

     His lips were tight for a long as if waiting for a wave of
pressure in his chest to subside "I didn't _see_ anything, but I
_was_ him." Spasmodically, her fingers clutched at his T-shirt.
She'd been doing that. The thin fabric would probably have holes
by the time she was finished.

     "Whatever you remember, Dana, you have to tell us? It's all
we have."

     She spoke not to him but into the air as if she were still
'there'. Her eyes filled with tears again. "It hurt... so bad.
They've hurt him. You're right, they're hurting him still.
They've been coming at him for some time now, but he won't think
about that. His mind is his own for once. He almost wishes it
wasn't, but that's the way Forsyth wants it. A little punishment
for trying to escape them. He's thinking of - " Her eyes opened
wide in wonder. " - me. He's thinking of the first time we went
to the Antarctic. There was some creature, some worm, and one of
the team was infected and murdering the others and we thought it
was Mulder. We locked him in a storage room. No, _I_ locked him
in. He was so afraid, he thought it was possible. He thought he
could be the one. He was most afraid of what I would find when I
examined the back of his neck. We were relieved at my finding
nothing but that was not all he felt when I touched him. But he
never told me." Her lips arched in a uneven smile. "Instead, he
turned me around and examined _my_ neck. To touch me back. He
wanted to see if I was infected, but he also needed to see if
what he felt was real. He never told me about that either."

      Though she was much calmer, a tear rolled down her cheek.
It slowly followed the track so many others had taken. "He's also
trying to think of all the times I bandaged his hurts, and of the
time I bathed him when he had the fever and held him close in my
arms when he cried for his father. I didn't think he could
remember that. He's trying to keep from thinking of them touching
him the way they are by thinking of me."

     "Dana," Jake said urgently, "I understand how you want to be
with him, but the best way for you to help is for you to reach
out, not in. Do you have any clue of where he might be? In a
plane, in a cave? A tent? On a boat, near the shore? Did you hear
breakers? A jet engine? Boat engine? Did you notice the sound of
an air conditioning unit kicking in? He could still be in one of
the rooms of one of the hotels. Did you smell cut grass or the
sea or earth? Maybe that smell the beach has at low tide?"

     She was running her hands through her tangled hair, tangling
it further, senses focused on that other scene. "Oil? Diesel oil
and something else sweet and vile..." She jerked into alertness,
stabbing onto the memory. "That disinfectant they use in chemical
toilets!"

     Leave it to a forensic pathologist to get that detailed,
Jake mused.

     "And there are gulls..."

     Jake shook his head in frustration. On the island, there
were gulls everywhere.

     "... and a rhythmic slapping... waves against the hull of a
boat? Yes, and the clink of the rigging. Now... and now.... and
now..." she chanted remembering.

     "A ship? Something with sails?" That hadn't been either
their first or second or third guess. Sailing ships were
comparatively slow. They had thought plane first, then someplace
still hidden on the island or a fast boat. "And do you sense only
a single boat? Not at a dock then? In the open ocean?"

     A jerk of her head. She was shivering again, convulsive
shudders running the length of that small body. The emotion of
the last few minutes had exhausted her remaining strength. She
was holding on now only by a thread. Her voice was so weak it was
almost like an echo. "F-Fog horn?"

     Jake tilted her chin to get her attention. "Foghorn? All
right, Dana, that's good. Now what can you see? Open your eyes."

     Sadly, she shook her head. "He won't open his. He doesn't
want to see or he can't..." she seemed to wilt right in his arms.
Jake didn't know what else to do. He couldn't bear to push the
poor woman any farther but would this be enough? "Dana, is that
all?"

     "Leave her be. It will have to be enough," concluded a deep
voice a few feet away. "A sailing ship and some sort of horn
nearby..." The voice trailed off.

     With a jerk, Jake stared up. He hadn't forgotten that they
were not alone, but he'd expected only Serena. Not Walter
Skinner. But there he was, looking more himself than on the trip
in the cart except for the eyes that seemed to have forgotten
what he had just said and were now wide and staring at something
over Jake's shoulder.

     Skinner was staring at Serena who was standing behind where
Jake sat. The bright cloth of her robes was billowing as if in a
wind though there was no wind. Her body had begun to swell, to
grow straighter, taller as it drew to itself a winding fog that
was coming up through the ground. Jake stared wildly around.
Without his noticing the glade had been plunged into a gloom like
that far after sunset. Meanwhile, Serena was turning as if in a
dance, stretching out strong arms. Placing Dana's slight, wounded
figure upright in Skinner's arms, Jake positioned himself between
them and this vision. The wind died and in the utter silence that
followed Jake stepped forward, a long-fingered hand stretched
tentatively forward to pluck at a dangling sleeve. Even he would
not touch that vaporous flesh.

     The figure spun at his touch, the spin as light as air.
Mounds of dark hair spilled over strong, young shoulders. High,
firm breasts pushed against the thin woman's garments. And her
face... The face behind its mask of gray mist suggested great
beauty and passion, akin but totally different than what 'Dana'
had shown only minutes before.

     "Alex..." Jake murmured.

     The figure smiled, a wild, unearthly smile, both carefree
and careless and cruel, and Jake found his eyes were altogether
hungry for the sight of her. Dana had been touched as if merely
veiled in the spirited ghost's nimbus. This, however, was all of
her - all he longed for so many months to be rid of but from
which he had found that he could not bear to part.


     Dana stirred. Within her she still held the precious memory
of Alex's terrible gift but it was fading like even nightmares
will. Soon she was standing on her own, her attention caught by
the man and woman slowly becoming wreathed in mist before her.
Instinctively, her hand reached down at her side to brush against
Mulder's hand - but she found only empty air. Then her heart
quickened in recognition at she looked more carefully at the man
before her. Though his back was to her she knew him. She knew the
width of those shoulders, the narrow waist and hips, the slender
strength of those long legs. It was the way he held his head,
however, that pierced the innermost part of her. And he was
moving toward rather than away from the woman's terrible, eternal
beauty like a moth to a flame. An image of Mulder walking into
danger, walking into wonder without her, filled her utterly.

     Then he turned and Dana felt her breath catch and hold.
There was no way she could rationalize the face of this man, so
filled with expectation and quiet joy, with the unbearable
torture she had felt coming from Mulder minutes before. At that
comparison all resemblance between the two vanished completely.

     This was Jake. Mulder was far away and moving farther from
her every second. But Mulder or not, this man still needed her
help. Someone, however, held her back as she unconsciously
stepped forward.

     Confused, Dana looked up into the Skinner's strong face. It
was as calm and resolute as it was when he faced any crisis. The
fact that he was seeing a ghost, that he had witnessed and was
witnessing possession and an extreme form of paranormal 'sight',
didn't phase him in the least. But then Skinner had had more than
one experience with such things. On the battlefield, which is in
its way its own reality, he'd seen too many good and young men
die. He'd been critically wounded there, too, and been given an
all too-painful preview of his own passing on. That was also
where he had met his own succubus, now blessedly gone. So it was
possible - a man could rid himself of such things if he truly
wanted to.

     "Scully, wait. He needs to deal with this."

     Serena's bright garments seemed to have melted away, to
become no more than smoke. The image that was revealed was
exquisite. Jake found his skin drawn to that skin. His flesh
began to ache and then to burn in its desire to enwrap itself
within hers again. He had made that body sing once, moving under
his hand while it inflamed his mind and soul. He could do it
again. He could do it forever. Leave behind all the uncertainties
of life without her.

     Eagerly, the ghost opened its hungry arms wide to receive
him.

     "Don't, Jake," came Dana's voice. It was a living voice,
warm as a breeze. It even disturbed the curling, heavy fingers of
the mist. "We need you. Mulder needs you. Leave the dead for the
dead and the living for the living. It's not your time."

     He stiffened. Though his arms had been in the act of raising
to embrace his too-long dead lover, they slowly dropped to his
sides. Dazed, he stared from one pale woman to the other -one
living, one dead. Whose call was strongest? Instinct told him
that to walk within the circle of Alex's cold arms now would mean
the end of his existence as he currently knew it. He would be for
what was left of his life only her creature. Even what will he
had now would be gone. Afterwards, worn down, played out, having
been every man and woman's plaything even more than during these
weeks at the Club, then what? What happened to the husks of the
succubus' victims when their souls died? Would his body remain
bound to her as Serena had warned, a slave in fact as well as in
deed?

     But if he understood Serena he wouldn't remember any of it
so at least there would be no pain. Not like now.

     Then there was Dana, her drawn, exhausted face, entreating
him to choose life. He knew why she cared. It was the physician
in her - life was her God - but for him was it worth it? She was
for Mulder and would always be, regardless of the outcome of
their search. Who was for Jake? Who was Jake anyway? Was it worth
the effort to reject Alex and find out? Did he really want to go
on alone?

     Alex's hand extended for him to clasp.

     Just take it and be sucked into her for once and for all.
Jake looked from Alex's out-stretched hand to her face. It glowed
as bright as a star with eyes as seductive as a fairy queen's and
with a smile just that entrancing. She knew that at the moment he
was more than half inclined to join her. But how often had he
seen versions of that same face, on men and women, young and old,
even in his own mirror when she moved within him. She had not
been particularly selective.

     "Was it ever me you loved," he asked, "or was it only the
desire to be loved."

      And that was when she knew she had lost him. The eyes in
the borrowed face opened wide, became dark empty pools through
which one could see the stars if one so desired. At this moment,
however, they reflected only the most horrible sadness and fear.
He thought he heard a moan though it was more like a fading music
pushing against air than any real sound and her misty outline
glowed less brightly. So she was afraid of being alone, too.

     Dana's voice reached Jake again, gentle and calming and yet
as demanding of his attention as a blade. "Was she religious? She
fears hell. Some religions teach that suicides go to hell."

     Dana addressed the faded spirit this time in a voice as
gentle as a spring rain. "Alex, there's no Hell to fear. Hell is
where you've been for the last two years," she explained
patiently. "It's time to move on now, that's all this is. And
it's not hard. I've been on the threshold once. Look around, do
you see a light? There is never any darkness there."

     The ghost seemed to hesitate. Certainly there was nothing
threatening about her now.

     "Go," Dana urged. "Don't be left outside alone again."

     The figure swayed once again. It was hard to tell which of
the two was the most bereft.

     "What do you want, Alex? If you tell yourself that you are
staying for Jake, you are wrong. See where you have brought him.
He has nothing now, not even himself. Let him go free."

     Alex regarded the man but did move closer. Then her
attention went back to Dana. "I know it's hard," Dana said, the
understanding in her voice like balm. "You want to be with the
one you love yet sometimes it's impossible. I would give anything
to be with Mulder now, to prevent the agony you've shown me or at
least to share it, but I can't. So I have to let go and focus of
what is best for him, not what is best for me. All I can hope for
Mulder is that he have someone with him, someone who's on his
side, until I can get there. All you can hope for Jake is that he
finds someone else or, at the very least, find some peace within
himself." The two women regarded each other across versions of
reality that had as its common ground only love as eternal as the
sea.

     But that was enough.

     "That's really what love is," Dana said, "that despite what
you want, it is what is best for the other that counts. And
what's best for Jake, for you both, is that you move on."

     The wind began again. The tall coconut palms shook their
shaggy crowns. Serena's head didn't turn to look at Jake; but
Alex's did. They were truly separate now. Like a veil of finest
linen, the spirit's misty form lifted as if borne on wind from
the older woman's head and slender shoulders. For a moment it
hovered over where Jake stood.

     Eyes closed and without fear, Jake lifted his face to allow
one last vaporous tendril to brush his cheek. And then like dew
under a warm spring sun, the mist became fainter and fainter
until there was nothing left at all.

End of Chapter 19