Dead End
<FMldr> Yes?
<zp7193> Just wanted to make sure you got the last file —I was a little
worried about the encryption program.
<FMldr> Yes, I did. It's fine. Thank you.
<zp7193> And I was worried when I didn't hear from you. Is everything okay?
I know I'm probably stating the obvious, but you need to be really careful with
this information.
<FMldr> After reading what you sent, I'm more aware of that than ever. I'm
sorry. I should have emailed you to let you know I received the files, but I
was
called out on a case. I didn't want to send anything if it wasn't from my own
computer.
<zp7193> That's fine, I just wanted to check.
<FMldr> Are you sure it's safe for you to be talking to me?
<zp7193> Yeah, I've made sure of that.
<FMldr> I hope you have. The other informants I've dealt with haven't had long
and fruitful lives. I always met with them in person, though. Is that why you
won't meet with me? Because somehow this is safer for you?
<zp7193> Yeah, leaking information to you really isn't the safest hobby. And
as
much as I want to help you, I do enjoy being alive. I think meeting's too risky.
<FMldr> Well, I can't really say that there would be a reason for us to meet
face
to face. You've been more helpful than you can know. I'd hate for my access
to
be cut off because of a stupid mistake.
<zp7193> Yeah, I can only think of one reason for us to meet up, and it isn't
worth it.
<FMldr> I'm sorry? I'm not sure I understand.
<zp7193> Never mind, it's not important.
<FMldr> If you have more information for me, anything at all, I will meet with
you.
<zp7193> No, it's not that. Forget I said anything.
<FMldr> Okay. If you need to leave, I understand completely. I'm surprised
we've talked this long. Unless there's something else you need to tell me.
<zp7193> No, it's safe for us to talk. But I probably should go, I suppose.
<FMldr> Okay. Thank you, again.
<zp7193> You're welcome. What are you planning to do with the information
anyway?
<FMldr> I have three choices: I can go public with it and risk worldwide panic;
I can somehow try to use it against the men who are behind this; or I can bide
my
time and hope it will save the lives of the innocent once the shit hits the fan.
Trust me, none of those options appeals to me. What do you think I should
do?
<zp7193> Yeah, going public would be a disaster. They'd just take advantage
of
the chaos and disappear. And you can't bide your time too long, either. I
think
your only option is to go after them.
<FMldr> That's pretty much what I was thinking, too. Can I do that with what
you've given me? What if they have an ace up their sleeve?
<FMldr> I don't care so much for myself, but the repercussions could be
devastating.
<zp7193> No, you do need to care about yourself. You're the only one right
now
who's in a position to really do anything about this. Tell you what, wait
another week, I'll try to get a you a couple more nails for their coffin. You
could probably do it with what you have right now, but it wouldn't hurt to
have
more.
<FMldr> Thank you. I don't want a name, but can you at least tell me what
agency
you work for?
<zp7193> I work directly with them. No agency.
<zp7193> You still there? I'm sorry if that upsets you but most of your
informants did, too. I just kinda figured you'd assume that.
<FMldr> Of course. I suppose I thought you'd also be working under the guise
of
being employed by some other government agency. Not that it matters
since all
the information I've ever gotten would have to come directly from the
Syndicate,
anyway. I'm sorry. It's been a long day.
<zp7193> Yeah, no I'm definitely in the midst of it. So, is the long day why
you're in on a Friday night, or are you always home and so conveniently
accessible to your shadowy informants?
<FMldr> Excuse me?
<zp7193> Nothing, just wondering why you're home on a Friday night. Seems
kind
of sad.
<FMldr> Are you usually this familiar with people you leak information to?
<zp7193> Nah, but I also don't normally talk to them when I'm halfway into a
bottle of vodka. Have I offended? Breached the etiquette of the informer-
informee relationship? If so, you have my sincere apologies.
<FMldr> No, I'm not offended, just concerned. A man in your position should
be
careful about drinking too much. You could let things slip.
<zp7193> You are absolutely right. A paragon of wisdom.
<FMldr> Who is this?
<zp7193> Your informant. Who do you think this is?
<FMldr> Fuck you. I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but it's
not going to work.
<zp7193> I don't know what the hell you're talking about. What game am I
playing?
<FMldr> Why the hell did you want me to think you were dead?
<zp7193> What the fuck are you talking about?
<FMldr> Just stop it! I know it's you. It's got to be you.
<zp7193> I really don't know what you're talking about. I've been emailing you
for months —I kinda assumed you realized I was among the living.
<FMldr> It's okay. You can tell me.
<zp7193> I don't know who you think I am, or why you thought I was dead. I
didn't think there was dial-up access in the afterlife —unless you
investigated
an X-File about that and know otherwise.
<FMldr> I... I'm sorry. It's just that you said something that made me think...
Never mind.
<FMldr> You just got me thinking about someone I used to know.
<zp7193> Who would that be?
<FMldr> Someone you may have worked with. He was killed about four months
before
you first contacted me.
<zp7193> How did he die?
<FMldr> A car accident, or so I was told.
<zp7193> Was he another informant of yours? Are you sure it was an
accident?
<FMldr> He was an informant to a certain extent, I suppose. And I know it
wasn't
an accident. In fact, I'd bet my life they killed him.
<zp7193> Who was he? I don't remember anyone dying in a car accident.
<FMldr> It doesn't matter now. If he was still alive I would have found him.
<zp7193> No, really. I'm curious. And as your current informant, I have quite
a
bit at stake. I wasn't aware there was anyone after Covarrubias.
<FMldr> Well, the information he gave me came from someone higher up.
Nothing
like what you've given me.
<zp7193> Someone higher up? Suddenly I feel so inadequate. And I can't
believe
I wasn't aware of another informant.
<FMldr> I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. I only meant that he didn't work
in the same way Marita did.
<zp7193> God, who the hell could it have been? Did you know his name? Was
it
Birkin?
<FMldr> No, it was Krycek.
<zp7193> I didn't know he was dead.
<FMldr> Yeah, he is. Some friends of mine found out and informed me that
he'd
been killed.
<FMldr> I'm sorry if this surprises you.
<zp7193> Well, he's always been good at covering his tracks. People don't
generally assume he's dead just because he's disappeared.
<FMldr> I didn't think it was true, either, but they haven't been able to trace
his whereabouts since it happened.
<zp7193> Damn. You really think he's dead.
<FMldr> So, I take it you knew him.
<zp7193> Yeah, you could say I did... I just can't believe this.
<FMldr> I couldn't believe it either. I still can't. Were the two of you close?
<zp7193> Well, I knew him pretty well.
<FMldr> And you really had no idea he was dead?
<zp7193> No, I can't say I did.
<FMldr> I suppose that in your line of work, you lose a lot of friends, though.
<zp7193> It happens. Too often. Especially since there aren't many you can
really consider friends.
<FMldr> So, what's one more, right?
<zp7193> Um, no. That's not what I meant at all.
<FMldr> Sorry, I didn't mean to sound callous. I just thought it would be
impossible for you to form any real ties. Someone dies, you move on. It's
harder in the real world.
<zp7193> What, and the world I'm in isn't real? I hate to wreck your illusion,
but if you lose someone you... It's probably harder, I think.
<FMldr> Lose someone you what?
<zp7193> Someone you give a damn about. But don't worry about it —
obviously
you think I'm capable of shrugging anything off and going on my merry way.
<FMldr> I'm sorry. I meant no offense.
<zp7193> Yeah, well, you don't know me. You don't know what I've lost, what
I've
had to sacrifice.
<FMldr> May I ask you a personal question?
<zp7193> What?
<FMldr> Were you and he... I'm sorry, it's none of my business.
<zp7193> Were we what?
<FMldr> If you don't want to answer, you don't have to, but the way you've
spoken
about him... Were you and he involved?
<FMldr> I'm sorry. It's none of my business.
<zp7193> Were we involved? Um, I don't know quite how to answer that.
<zp7193> Would it bother you if we had been?
<FMldr> Well, it would explain some of the things you said.
<zp7193> You could say I knew him intimately.
<zp7193> I didn't realize you two had much of a history. I mean, I know he
was
partnered with you briefly but that was years ago. Were you friends?
<FMldr> What did he tell you about me?
<zp7193> Almost nothing. And now I'm intrigued.
<FMldr> Don't you imagine that if we were friends, he would have told you?
<zp7193> Not necessarily. He was very private. In fact, if you had been, I'm
sure he never would have talked about it.
<FMldr> Yeah, you're probably right.
<zp7193> So?
<FMldr> If he didn't want you to know, do you think I'd tell you?
<zp7193> I'm surprised you'd care about what he wanted. You must have
been
friends. Or was it something more?
<FMldr> No, we weren't friends. Never friends.
<zp7193> So why are you still protecting him? Refusing to tell me something
just
because he might not have wanted me to know it?
<FMldr> I'm not protecting him. There's just no reason for you to know.
<zp7193> I'm confused as to why, though.
<FMldr> Look, I know I owe you a lot, but why do you care how I feel about
him?
<zp7193> I guess I just don't see why it matters. And I'm curious. I'm
surprised. I'm drunk. Humor me.
<FMldr> Well, forgive me, but I'm not quite drunk enough to tell you how I feel
about your lover.
<zp7193> Well, drink some more then. I'm risking my life for you —or your
quest, anyway. You could give me this much. And he wasn't exactly my
lover.
<FMldr> But I thought you said you were intimately involved.
<zp7193> No, I said I know him intimately —not that we were intimately
involved.
<FMldr> What's the difference?
<zp7193> Well, I think you can know someone really well, be close to them
without
being their lover.
<FMldr> Yeah, I guess you're right. And you can be lovers with someone and
not
know them at all.
<zp7193> Yeah. That probably happens more often, actually. Why all of
these
questions about how well I knew him?
<FMldr> Just curious.
<zp7193> Is that all there is to it?
<FMldr> Look, I feel really uncomfortable talking to a stranger about my
personal
life.
<zp7193> So, you considered Krycek part of your personal life? Have
another
drink.
<FMldr> I'm way ahead of you.
<zp7193> Good to hear. So, what was he to you anyway?
<FMldr> I would tell you, but how do I know you won't somehow use this against
me?
<zp7193> I think I've proven myself trustworthy.
<FMldr> Giving me government secrets is one thing...
<FMldr> It just seems too convenient to me that you happened to have known
him.
<zp7193> Yeah, and it's a pretty big fucking thing. And of course I knew him.
It
wasn't happenstance at all. The actual ranks of "them" are pretty damn
small.
Which explains why your informants get killed so often —it's a pretty
intimate
circle, they don't have far to look when information starts leaking. In fact,
look at it this way. I'll probably be dead soon enough for what I'm doing, and
then you won't have to worry about whatever it is you tell me.
<FMldr> God, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. I understand the risks
you're
taking and you have no idea how much it means. I really don't know why I'm
being
so fucking evasive.
<zp7193> No problem. So, tell me.
<FMldr>
<zp7193> You have been drinking as per my instructions. Good for you. And
the
question is, what was Krycek to you?
<FMldr> I don't know.
<zp7193> Why not?
<FMldr> I used to know. At worst, he was my enemy. At best, an annoyance.
But
I don't think I was ever anything to him.
<zp7193> It sounds like there's a story there.
<FMldr> It's too much to get into, but it boils down to him being far more
important to me than he should be.
<zp7193> Hmmmm... Okay, I hope this isn't too personal of a question —but
you
two must have been lovers, right?
<FMldr> Yeah, you could say that.
<zp7193> For how long?
<FMldr> Not long.
<zp7193> Am I upsetting you? Do you not want to talk about it?
<FMldr> Gee, I've been so cooperative up to this point, what would make you
ask
that?
<zp7193> Okay, so that's a good point. I don't mean to upset you, but if you
were lovers with Krycek, I can't imagine it was something you could really
confide in anyone about. It might help if you talked about it.
<FMldr> That's true, I guess. It actually would be good to talk to someone who
doesn't really know me and won't judge me.
<zp7193> Well, considering some of the things I've had to do, I'm definitely
not
judgmental.
<FMldr> And you're not likely to shoot me in the ass for being such an idiot.
<zp7193> Nah, I'm with you in general idiocy.
<FMldr>
<zp7193> LOL! The lonely-heart conspiracy theorists?
<FMldr> It does have a nice ring to it.
<zp7193> It does. So, consider this story your initiation ceremony.
<FMldr> Okay, fine. As a fellow idiot, I guess you can be privy to my stupidity.
Where do you want me to start?
<zp7193> The beginning generally works pretty well.
<FMldr> I was born on October 13, 1961...
<zp7193> LOL I guess I should get comfortable.
<FMldr> The problem I'm having is that I don't know when this began.
<zp7193> Well, I do know about your partnership with him, there are files.
You
two weren't involved then, though. When did that start?
<FMldr> About three months before he died.
<zp7193> What happened?
<FMldr> Would you believe a chat of all things? Out of the blue he started
talking to me. Pissed me off, of course.
<zp7193> Yeah, well the two of you had quite a past.
<FMldr> Right. Can't change that, I guess.
<zp7193> No, even with alien technology, we still don't have a time machine...
<FMldr> Yeah, too bad.
<zp7193> LOL! Well, maybe someday. So how'd you go from chatting to being
lovers?
<FMldr> We ended up getting together after a few...stimulating
conversations. It
was just sex.
<zp7193> Well, you said something earlier about him being more important to
you
than he should be. Was it just sex for you?
<FMldr> Started out that way.
<zp7193> What changed it?
<FMldr> Honestly, I don't know. I treated him so badly. He didn't care, and I
didn't think I did, but...god, I'm rambling. You know him. He just gets under
your fucking skin. God, you'd think he was still alive.
<zp7193> Yeah, it's hard to believe he's dead. What did you do to him? And
what
made you start to care? And, really, don't worry about the rambling. I've
been
guilty of it myself.
<FMldr> I was a shit to him. I knew it would scare him, but I just wanted to
make him suffer a little. It worked. But he got me back. I don't know when I
started to care...and that's not even what it is. I don't know. He was out of
touch for a while and it made me realize that I felt something I shouldn't. I'm
not making any sense. I just wish he was here.
<zp7193> You cared for him.
<FMldr> I did. Maybe I still do.
<zp7193> Maybe? It doesn't sound to me like there's much doubt there.
<FMldr> You know what he did. Can you explain to me why I would have wanted
to
be with him after all the shit that happened?
<zp7193> No, I can't. You're on your own for that one.
<FMldr> I think I cared before he fucked me over...the first time, I mean.
When
we were still partners.
<zp7193> Did you want to be with him then? Or did you only figure that out
recently?
<FMldr> No, I knew then. After that, it was so much easier to hate him than
admit he hurt me.
<zp7193> That makes sense. But you still wanted him? After everything? I
guess
I have a hard time understanding that.
<FMldr> Imagine how I feel. I thought it was just the sex, but I've been with
other people and, even now, I still can't get him out of my head. The last
time
we were together, I could have sworn there was something there... God, this
has
got to be boring for you. There have to be other pathetic losers you could be
listening to
<zp7193> No, it's not boring at all. I really don't mind. And I hope this
isn't... well, insensitive or too personal —but do you think you really would
want to be with him? I mean, you know he's dead, that you can't have him. I
have to wonder if it was easier to think you feel this way about him, want to
be
with him, knowing that it's impossible. If he was actually standing in front of
you, would you feel the same way?
<zp7193> Sorry, if you're rambling, I'm playing the amateur psychologist.
<FMldr> Stick to the secrets, okay? It doesn't matter how the hell I feel.
He's
dead. Even if he wasn't, I know he'd want nothing to do with me. He got what
he
wanted and left it at that.
<zp7193> Well, you said something earlier about really hurting him, acting like
a
shit, I think... maybe he was just protecting himself.
<FMldr> Maybe I was too.
<zp7193> That would make sense.
<FMldr> But, like I said, it doesn't matter now. He never really wanted me.
<zp7193> You could be wrong about that.
<FMldr> Trust me. He made himself pretty clear.
<zp7193> How so?
<FMldr> I think the last thing he said to me was something about what a good
fuck
I was. Then he walked out. Not a lot of sentiment there.
<zp7193> Well, I have to go back to your earlier statement about being cruel
to
him. You still haven't told me what that was, but one thing I can tell you
about
him is that he always had a lot of pride, and a strong sense of
self-preservation.
<FMldr> It doesn't matter what I did. I told him I was sorry for that. I really
was. I still am.
<zp7193> But why would he have believed you? I mean, considering your past
and
all.
<FMldr> I guess I didn't really expect him to believe me, I just wish he had.
Who am I kidding? That wouldn't have changed anything! He had it set in his
head to fuck with me and he accomplished his mission. I don't know why I'm
pretending that anything would have been different.
<zp7193> Well, he was pretty good at mindfucks. But he also wasn't one to
take
unnecessary risks. I don't think he would have been with you if it was just a
game. Too much risk for him, and like I said, self-preservation was a big thing
for him. But I could be wrong —just my opinion.
<FMldr> No offense, but I think you're wrong.
<zp7193> ::shrug:: Like I said, I could be. But something tells me I'm not, for
whatever that's worth.
<FMldr> It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I'm sorry...I shouldn't have
started talking about this.
<zp7193> No, it's fine. You probably should talk about it. I can't imagine it's
been easy having to keep this all inside. I mean, it sounds like you're
mourning
him. That's not the sort of thing people normally have to hide.
<FMldr> God...I've never really let myself face it, you know? I'm sitting here
crying like a fucking baby...mourning some asshole who didn't give a shit
about
me... Fuck.
<zp7193> God, I'm so sorry. I don't... Look, I think he had to have cared for
you. I'm certain of it.
<FMldr> What would you know about it?
<zp7193> Well, like I said, I did know him pretty intimately —when you're in
the trenches with someone, so to speak, you get to know them pretty well.
Learn
things about each other.
<FMldr> Yeah, you keep mentioning how intimately you knew him... Sure you're
not
trying to tell me something?
<zp7193> He wasn't my lover.
<FMldr> Oh... well, hell, you won't care if I'm drunk enough to say I think I love
him.
<zp7193> Nah, don't worry about it. I'm drunk enough that I might not
remember
any of it tomorrow. You really think you do, though? Present tense and all?
<FMldr> Love, loved... Right now? I love him.
<FMldr> But you've got to understand it's *my* version of what that means.
<zp7193> And what is your version? Do you define it differently?
<FMldr> I've never been the kind of man to fall into that stereotypical picture
of what love is. I can't give someone the security of being there for them, or
caring about them. I'm too selfish. That's why I can't keep a relationship.
But I need him. I want him with me.
<zp7193> You think you loved him, you wanted him and needed him, but you
don't
think you could care about him? I don't mean to be critical, but that doesn't
seem to make any sense. I think you might be selling yourself short.
<FMldr> I'm being realistic. Oh god, I can't even say that with a straight
face... if I was being realistic, we wouldn't be having this conversation.
<zp7193> You do have a point there. But I have to say that you've always
struck
me as a man who cares deeply about things. Your quest is one good example,
and
your relationship with Scully is an even better one. Maybe you're just scared
to
admit you could care for someone on that level? Oh, god, there I go again
with
trite, pop-psychology.
<FMldr> That's okay, you're doing great. My job, my partner...I care about
them
but I don't love them. Well, I love Scully, but that's different. That's a
mutual respect, I've-got-her-back-she's-got-mine kind of thing.
<zp7193> So you don't think you're really capable of love? It's just want and
need. How do you define love then? I think I'm still stuck on this lack of
caring. It seems that you did, even do, care about him. In fact, just about
everything you've said tonight about him demonstrates caring of some sort.
Or
maybe I'm missing something.
<FMldr> What are you, his representative here on Earth?
<zp7193> Nah, just a curious, and somewhat confused, bystander. Besides,
as you
tell it, if I were representing him, I'd be arguing that you don't care.
<FMldr> Right... okay, you got me.
<zp7193> So, are you going to answer the question? Or should I just let this
deflection slide?
<FMldr> If you let it slide, what else are you going to ask?
<zp7193> I have no idea, but I feel like I should change the subject. I can't
tell you how sorry I am about this.
<FMldr> Don't be sorry. I really haven't had the chance to talk to anyone
about
him. And it helps that you knew him. I mean, you knew a different side of
him.
<zp7193> I'm glad I'm helping.
<FMldr> Do you mind if I ask you about him? I know you don't know me and you
probably have better things to do, but... I never had the chance to really
know
him.
<zp7193> I don't know —I mean, sure —but what is it you want to know?
<FMldr> I don't know. Everything? How did he get involved with your
employers?
<zp7193> Well, everything could take awhile. His family was involved, his
parents. I don't think he had much of a choice.
<FMldr> Did he really kill my father? Or do you know?
<zp7193> I don't know. But even if he did... Well, don't take this the wrong
way, but your father was... Well, let's just say he wasn't a very good man.
<FMldr> Okay.
<FMldr> And he *never* mentioned me?
<zp7193> No, but you've got to understand—he wouldn't have been able to.
If
he felt that way about you —enough that he was willing to risk being your
lover—
it would have been too dangerous for him, for both of you, to let anyone
know
about it.
<FMldr> What about when we were partners? Was it all an act?
<zp7193> I'm sorry —I really can't answer these questions for you. I do know
that when he was assigned to you, he was also under orders to seduce you.
He
reported that he tried and failed. I'm assuming that was a lie?
<FMldr> He said that?
<zp7193> Yeah, they weren't exactly happy with him. It's when things started
going downhill between him and Spender. The bastard thought Krycek had
failed
with you, hadn't been willing to go as far as he should have. Let's just say
that Krycek challenged a lot of his orders.
<FMldr> I had no idea... Why would he take that kind of risk?
<zp7193> Well, that probably brings us back to our earlier discussion.
<FMldr> Does it have to?
<zp7193> Yeah, you're right, we probably shouldn't talk about it. My
synapses
are firing a little sluggishly right now anyway.
<FMldr> Yeah, mine too.
<zp7193> But you've still got me confused on that not-caring thing. God, I'm
drunk.
<FMldr> All right. Ask me again.
<zp7193> Oh god, do I have to? Can't you just scroll up?
<FMldr> Well, you asked me how I define love, but you also seem to be hung up
on
that caring thing.
<zp7193> Exactly! I'm glad one of us is clear on this conversation...
<FMldr> Heh, don't expect that to last too much longer.
<zp7193> Well, I have to tell you that the chances of me remembering this
conversation tomorrow are becoming increasingly slim.
<FMldr> You know, I have to admit that it's good to get this off my chest.
And
if you don't remember any of it, that's even better.
<zp7193> There you go. It's a win-win situation. Just think of me as an
amnesiac
therapist.
<FMldr> I like that!
<zp7193> And, as your therapist, I must point out that you're continuing to
deflect.
<FMldr> Fuck. You're good.
<zp7193> ::preening:: Thank you.
<FMldr> Oh god! You just preened!
<zp7193> Why, yes I did. Oh well. There's still that not remembering thing.
But enough about me...
<FMldr> You're relentless. No wonder you and Alex were friends.
<zp7193> Thanks, I think.
<FMldr> It's a compliment. He was relentless, too. I loved that. I can respect
that.
<zp7193> Oh god, don't make me preen again.
<FMldr> Okay, I won't.
<zp7193> Who told you he was dead?
<FMldr> I told you, my friends told me. If they hadn't gotten hold of the
autopsy report and shown it to me, I still wouldn't believe it. They thought
my
shock was relief, but...
<zp7193> They didn't know the truth. I understand. But if it wasn't relief...
I'm back at the not caring, love thing you've got going.
<FMldr> Maybe I shouldn't have used the word care... I care about him. Maybe
I
should have said I can't open myself up. Don't you have to care about
someone to
do that, though?
<zp7193> I think it's entirely possible to care for someone, yet not be able to
open up. I'm the same way.
<FMldr> Then that's what I meant.
<FMldr> Does that answer your question?
<zp7193> Yeah, I guess it does. Okay, so that's solved. What corner of your
psyche shall we explore next?
<FMldr> You sure you want to go there?
<zp7193> Sure. I'm feeling reckless.
<FMldr> Though, at this point I must admit that I'll pretty much say anything.
<zp7193> And I'm willing to hear just about anything. We're a great pair.
<FMldr> I'm still amazed that we're talking like this.
<zp7193> LOL Me, too. I'm not quite sure how we got from discussing
bringing
them down to this.
<FMldr> I'm not either, but it's nice.
<zp7193> Yeah, it is. I don't get to talk like this very often.
<FMldr> Neither do I.
<zp7193> And that's a damn shame for both of us.
<FMldr> Yeah, it is. I guess Alex wasn't exactly the heart-to-heart type.
Maybe
the anonymity helps.
<zp7193> Yeah, I think it helps a lot. And the vodka, of course.
<FMldr> Amen to that. Well, it's not vodka for me, but same principle.
<zp7193> What are you drinking?
<FMldr> Scotch
<zp7193> Good choice.
<FMldr> What are you wearing?
<FMldr> I'm sorry, I'm just kidding.
<zp7193> No, that's fine, you made me laugh. I suppose I should describe a
skimpy, leather g-string, but I'm afraid the reality isn't that exciting.
<zp7193> How about you? ::lascivious waggling of eyebrows::
<FMldr> Hmm... I could tell you about the diaphanous teddy, but I'm afraid it
would make you question my manhood.
<zp7193> LOL! Yes, well, it's probably best that you don't then.
<FMldr> And you can forget about the stilettos!
<zp7193> ::groan:: If there's a merciful god, I will.
<FMldr> LOL
<zp7193> So, you still think that way about him often?
<FMldr> Which way?
<zp7193> Erotically...
<zp7193> Sexually...
<FMldr> As sad or sick as it may be, yeah, I do. Would you believe I'm thinking
about that now?
<zp7193> Yeah, I can. And, I suppose you'd think I was a really sick voyeur if I
asked what you were thinking about.
<FMldr> The look on his face when he comes, the way he feels when I hold him,
his mouth, his ass, his cock, his... everything. I just think about every goddamn
thing.
<FMldr> He gave me this videotape of... stuff... and I've just about worn it out.
<zp7193> I know I should be horrified by the vicarious thrill I just got.
<FMldr> Oh... I don't know...
<zp7193> Well, I do know, and I should, but I'm too drunk... too *something* to
care. I can hate myself in the morning.
<zp7193> So, what was the "stuff"?
<FMldr> Him... me... him watching me
<zp7193> Vicarious thrills running amuck over here.
<FMldr> Sorry.
<zp7193> Well, I'm not really complaining. And for whatever reason, I don't
want
you to stop. I want to hear more.
<FMldr> What else do you want to know?
<zp7193> Anything. Everything.
<FMldr> I think you wanted him, too.
<zp7193> I plead the fifth. And by the way, after this conversation, I think
it's imperative that we never actually meet up. I'd probably just keep
picturing
you in that diaphanous teddy.
<FMldr> Hah! Okay, just to ease your mind how about a T-shirt and running
shorts?
<zp7193> Hmmm. Too late. My mind's firmly in the gutter now, I'm afraid.
<zp7193> Unless of course, that shirt and shorts were plastered to a hot,
sweaty
body. That could work.
<FMldr> Well, I had just come back from a run when I logged on and you found
me.
<zp7193> Okay, you're just teasing me now.
<FMldr> Hey, I'm just telling you how it is. I didn't expect to still be talking
to you and had planned to go take a shower.
<zp7193> Oh, now there's another mental image...
<FMldr> You're too easy
<zp7193> So I've been told. And, for the record, I wasn't complaining... Tease
away.
<FMldr> I just lost the shirt. It's too hot in here.
<zp7193> Oh god. Are we really going to do this?
<FMldr> I don't know. I don't think we should.
<zp7193> Probably not. I'm feeling like the other woman. In a sort of sick,
unrealistic way.
<FMldr> Well, you're really only competing with the memory of a dead man.
But if
we're going to do this, I should at least know what you like.
<zp7193> Hmmm. Well, I could tell you the truth, but would you rather I
described myself as a dark- haired and green-eyed?
<FMldr> Yeah... would you?
<zp7193> That's me, then. I'm tall, slim. I've got a ridiculously small nose,
and pixie ears, but I somehow manage to be attractive. You do realize how
sick this is, though?
<FMldr> Nice... and what's your name?
<zp7193> Alex.
<FMldr> What are you wearing, Alex?
<zp7193> A smile.
<FMldr> Hmm, I bet it looks really good on you.
<zp7193> I've been told it does. So, you've just got on the running shorts,
right?
<FMldr> Not anymore
<zp7193> Oh. So, what are you doing?
<FMldr> Stroking myself, wishing it was your hand on me...
<zp7193> Me, too. I'm so hard, leaking all over my hand.
<FMldr> Oh god... Alex, I miss you so much. What do you want me to do? I'll
do
anything.
<zp7193> I want you to fuck me.
<FMldr> I want that too... so much. We're on my bed, I'm stretched out on top
of
you, kissing you as if my life depended on it. You don't know how much I've
missed you. I need to touch you all over, to know that you're real.
<zp7193> God, it feels like you're everywhere. You taste so good, I've missed
this, too. More than I can say.
<FMldr> I pull back a little to look at you, stroking your face. I can't believe
you're really here. Then I lower my head and start kissing your neck, sucking
on
your throat and licking away the traces of sweat there. The taste and smell
of
you is driving me crazy and I need to make love to you. I slide down your
body,
nipping and kissing your chest and stomach as I make my way to your cock.
It's
so hard and wet. I have to take it into my mouth.
<zp7193> The feel of your mouth... It's almost too much, it's been too damn
long.
I buck wildly, arching up into you. You swallow me whole, and I can't suppress
a sob, it *is* too much, and at the same time, not anywhere close to what I
need.
I'm so desperate to have you inside of me.
<FMldr> I know what you really want, and I reluctantly let you go. I spread
your
legs, too impatient to get any lube, instead licking my fingers and sliding one
inside you.
<zp7193> I relax around your finger immediately. I'm so fucking hungry for
this,
I've wanted it so long, you're not even going to need lube. I move in sharp,
jerky motions, insistently fucking myself on the one finger, trying to
encourage
you with my groans to give me more. I'd beg if I could manage to speak.
<FMldr> God, I want you so much, I move to position myself between your legs,
pausing only to lick the smear of precum from your skin where your cock is
straining against your stomach. I've missed the way you taste and if I wasn't
so
desperate to fuck you, I'd just suck you off, but there's time for that later.
I
lift your legs, spreading them wide so I can finally have what I want. The
head
of my cock presses against you and I push in slowly, losing myself in the tight
heat of your body.
<zp7193> I'm almost embarrassed at my deep moan when you finally sink into
me —
it's too relieved, too needy. But that's forgotten as you begin moving,
setting
a hard pace immediately. Knowing you can't control yourself anymore than I
can
comforts and enflames me at the same time. I meet your thrusts, bucking
up hard
against you, wanting you deeper, wanting you completely inside me.
<FMldr> I thrust into you, already so close to coming, I know it won't take
much
to send me over the edge. I take your cock in my hand, stroking and pulling
erratically, trying to find a rhythm, but it's too much. The sound of your
voice, moaning, telling me how much you want me, your face so full of need
for
me... it's all too much. I start moving my hips faster...god, I want to fuck
you
through the goddamn mattress. I want to be the only one who can make you
feel
this way.
<zp7193> God, you've never fucked me so hard. No one has, it's like you're
claiming me, marking me, and I should be scared. I should be fucking
terrified.
But instead, I'm just so damn relieved. I force my eyes open, not able to
remember when I closed them, and the sight of you, your face tight and
drawn,
fighting the loss of control. I want to break you, make you lose yourself in
me.
I press up harder into you, screwing myself mercilessly, daring you to return
it
even harder. I begin clenching my ass as a hard as I can, reveling in the look
of surprise and almost-pain on your face.
<FMldr> I can't stop from crying out as you tighten around me, the welcome
pain
and pleasure of it forcing me deeper inside you. Your face is so fucking
beautiful, but the look in your eyes is a challenge. I barely have time to crush
my mouth to yours before I'm coming, hard and fast, spilling everything into
you.
I'm gone, and as I hungrily suck on your tongue and lips, I'm yours. That's all
I want.
<zp7193> Fuck... Oh fuck, Mulder. I'm coming so hard... god, it feels...
<FMldr> Shit... Alex... oh god... I need you
<zp7193> Oh god, me too. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Oh god.
<FMldr> It's okay... don't be sorry.
<zp7193> I wish I could be... I'm just so sorry.
<FMldr> Me too. It's okay. I'm sorry for asking you to... I shouldn't have
done that.
<zp7193> No, I think we both wanted it. Whatever our reasons were..
<FMldr> Yeah, you're right. But still...
<zp7193> Mulder, please. Don't worry about it. I can't... Just don't, okay?
<FMldr> Okay.
<zp7193> God, you're upset. I should let you go. This was a mistake.
<zp7193> Are you going to be okay?
<FMldr> Yeah, maybe I should go. I'll be fine.
<zp7193> Okay, well, I'll have that information for you soon. By the end of
the
week.
<FMldr> Great. Thanks.
<zp7193> Take care of yourself... I'll be in touch.
<FMldr> Okay. Thank you.
<zp7193> Wait, Mulder. I...
<FMldr> Yeah?
<zp7193> Listen, I've actually got most of the information now. I'll bring it
over —I can be there in an hour.
<FMldr> I thought you didn't want to meet in person.
<zp7193> It's probably not a great idea, but you should probably know this.
And
I don't think you should be alone with this.
<FMldr> Oh... okay. But you don't have to stay or anything. I don't think I'm up
for company to tell you the truth.
<zp7193> Yeah, well, I'm on my way, okay?
<FMldr> Okay.
Mulder logged off and leaned forward, his hands clenched to his stomach. It
was
so late and he was exhausted, emotionally and physically. He tried to stave
off
the tears that were burning his eyes, but he couldn't, giving in to them for
the
second time that night. He cursed himself as tears flowed down his face,
dropping silently and unnoticed onto his keyboard. He'd managed to keep his
feelings in check before tonight. For almost a year he'd been able to push
down
any emotions that threatened to surface, arguing with himself about the
futility
of mourning someone who had felt nothing for him. But tonight... He'd been
so
sure it was him, had wished it to be true, but it was impossible. Alex was
dead.
The bastard had died and left behind so many unanswered questions, the
main one
being how the hell had he been able to make Mulder care about him?
As he sat at his desk, his stomach wrenching in pain as he sobbed, his throat
tight and burning from the force of his unspoken grief, Mulder knew he'd
never
know what happened.
Freshly showered and dressed in a pair of sweats, Mulder sat wearily on the
couch, waiting for his informant to show. He was torn between
embarrassment and
regret for what they'd done, but figured it didn't really matter now anyway.
If
he was going to receive more information about the Syndicate's activities, he
could stand to meet with him. Who knew? Perhaps it would be okay to have
someone with him tonight, assuming he'd even stay.
Mulder groaned, suddenly overcome by another wave of despair. If there was
some
way he could explain why or how this had happened, that would be at least
some
small comfort. Instead, he found himself unable to stop thinking about Alex,
unable to banish the sadness that talking about him had unearthed. He knew
it
would be a matter of time before he stopped wanting Alex, and no amount of
self-analysis would change that. He shouldn't even try. Turning on the
television, he sat back and waited.
Standing in front of the door, he stared blankly at the numbers in front of
him.
Lifting his hand to knock, he immediately dropped it to his side.
Fuck. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this. He was risking too much, it
was
too dangerous. With a resigned shrug, he lifted his hand again. He'd made his
decision, and however much he might come to regret it, it was too late to go
back
now. Wincing, he knocked softly on the door.
The knock on the door startled Mulder and he sat up quickly. He got up
slowly
and made his way to the door, deciding to take whatever his visitor had to
give
and then send him on his way. He needed to be alone. Drawing in a slow, tired
breath, he opened the door.
Hit and Run VI
by Lucy Snowe and Frankie
<zp7193> Agent Mulder?
