Seeking some distance from the others, needing silence, I climb the
roughly carved stone steps to the highest point in the cave, an aerie
that stands high above the desert. There's an opening in the rock
face up there, spanning the upper side of the wall and part of the
ceiling, allowing a good view of land and sky. It's a spot I visit
often, mostly because none of the others seem interested in it; I can
always count on it being empty. The torch I carry with me licks the
walls with trembling tongues of light as I make my long way up, the
ancient drawings on the rock leaping at me from the darkness, horses
and bulls and spirals, and curious faces that look more alien than
human and never fail to run a shiver through me. For a brief instant,
I wonder if years from now there'll be anyone left to contemplate the
signs of our passage though history. For an even briefer instant, I
wonder if history hasn't ended already.
The evening is deepening when I finally reach the top, and I
extinguish the torch before placing it on its holder on the wall, not
wanting to alert Them to our presence here. My eyes immediately
wander to the distant flicker of flames on the horizon, growing
brighter as the night grows darker. I pull my gaze away from it,
trying not to visualize the crumbling buildings, trying not to name
the blazing city in my mind. The only power names have now is that of
conjuring ghosts: of people, of places. And place names have lost all
meaning, because all the places are gone, crushed to the ground by
the weight of Their giant ships, by the power of Their weapons. They
have no need for human cities or human technology, no need for humans
at all aside from the ones They've already enslaved. It's becoming
apparent that the best resistance we can offer is our survival. We
are a dying people, suitably driven to seek shelter in this
netherworld of dusk.
The rest of the world isn't ours anymore.
And it's burning.
Alex's deliberately loud footfalls distract me from my grim musings,
and I feel myself relaxing in anticipation of his embrace. Only the
enemy will steal up on us in complete silence now, and Alex isn't my
enemy anymore. He was never really my enemy, but it took me a long
time to recognize that.
I feel his arm go around me, and I lean back against him, relaxing
further. The cool night air strokes my face, Alex's breath warm and
familiar against my neck, his heart beating strong and steady against
my back, forever chasing mine.
We look at the star-strewn sky in silence, the orange glow on the
horizon drawing my eyes again and again, beautiful. Terrible. But
it's safe to look now, because Alex is with me. When he touches me,
nothing else can.
And still.
"The world is on fire," I whisper with a shudder.
"You're in my arms," Alex counters, and I feel his breathed half
laugh reverberate through me. "Arm," he corrects himself, only the
slightest touch of sadness in his voice.
It's always this way with us, me focusing on the sorrows, him
pointing out the joys. It surprised me at first, how intensely
pragmatic Alex is, yet still somehow finding strength and beauty
wherever he can. It's a source of comfort now, to me. His strength.
His beauty. Constantly healing the open wounds in me, hushing my
despair.
"Had enough?" he asks me at length, a shudder of another kind
coursing through me when he insinuates his hand under my shirt, the
brush of his fingers against my skin pulling a sigh out of me.
I turn around and wrap him in my arms, taking his mouth with mine,
kissing him slowly, deeply, backing him against the wall. He moans
when I press my hips against his, and I smile against his
lips. "Never enough," I whisper, kissing him again, harder, arousal
flaring between us.
"Good," he rasps, smiling as well, kissing me back. His hand is still
under my shirt, stroking and kneading my back, his teeth trailing
bites along my jaw, and I am the one who moans this time.
Then, "Mulder," he breathes in my ear, and in that one word lie all
my questions, answered; all my doubts, assuaged. All my wishes come
true. The world still alive in the tone of his voice, the caress of
his hand, the cadence of his heart.
I kiss his lips again, my throat feeling suddenly tight, tenderness
rushing through me and leaving me breathless. Pulling back, I reach
for the torch I brought and set it aflame again. The sudden
illumination bathes Alex in a wavering circle of warmth, shadow and
light dancing on the walls, lapping at him. But when my eyes meet
his, I find no hesitation there—the fire in his gaze is steady and
bright. With a pang of regret I remember how for so long I mistook
that fire for anger and scorn. But no longer.
I know the truth now.
I raise my hand to his face and stroke him, watching his lips part in
an inaudible breath, the brush of his stubble against my fingertips
stirring unnameable emotions within me and bringing tears to my eyes.
I swallow, blinking hard as he takes my hand in his and kisses my
fingers. When he releases me I turn and head for the stairs,
listening as he follows close behind me, his pace perfectly matched
to mine. Always watching my back.
Our descent is as slow as my way up was, and just as silent. With a
smile I think about the first time Alex found me at the aerie, my
utter dismay when I saw he'd come looking for me without a torch. But
he'd only shrugged and said, "I can see well enough in the dark." I
didn't doubt him.
Back in the main hall, I place the torch in an empty holder and turn
to face Alex once again. Music is still playing, people still
dancing. He steps closer to me and slides his arm around me, kissing
my neck, my ear.
"Care to dance?" he whispers, pulling back slightly and looking at
me, his gaze expectant.
But I shake my head at him, threading my fingers in his now longish
hair and fusing my mouth to his, my pulse racing as I kiss him,
holding him to me with hands and breath and need.
"Another time," I murmur, and feel him acquiesce, his body seeming to
melt into mine, both of us sinking deeper into our kiss.
He takes my hand and guides me through twisting galleries to the
small corner we call ours. We undress each other without a word, his
gestures measured where mine are frantic, both our breaths loud and
shallow. He lowers me onto our thin mattress with such care that the
worn sheets beneath me feel like silk, like rose petals. He kisses my
lips, my chin, my chest, his fingers trailing sparks over my skin,
his tongue probing at my nipples, tracing a path down to my stomach,
licking a circle around my navel. He closes his mouth around my rigid
cock and I gasp, arching my back, spreading my legs, my hips moving
with a will of their own, his hair tickling me where it falls against
my body.
"Alex," I moan, thrusting deeper into his mouth even as I tug on his
hair, trying to pull him off my cock, wanting to feel him against me,
needing him inside me. He sucks me fiercely for a moment, humming
around my cock and rasping his tongue against the throbbing vein on
the underside, making me swell painfully in his mouth, tearing a sob
from me. "Please," I beg, reaching blindly for the small container of
lubricant that we keep beside the mattress and only use sparingly. I
dip my fingers in it and close my hand around his cock when he moves
back up my body and kisses me, drinking in the sounds he makes as I
fist him while I slick him up.
"Do it," he rasps, and I feel his body shake above mine as I guide
him to my entrance. I grab his asscheeks with both my hands and pull
him roughly to me while he pushes in, the friction of flesh against
flesh as he forces his way inside me flushing my entire being with
heat and making me dizzy with sensation.
We moan together then, move and burn together, my hands exploring his
body while his tongue explores my mouth, his cock stroking in and out
of me and creating more heat, waves of fiery pleasure consuming us
both. His teeth dig into my lower lip, his next thrust finding that
place inside me that no one but him has ever touched; I buck under
him as orgasm bursts and roils through me, everything I am weeping,
offering him my come and sweat and tears. Alex's rhythm becomes
erratic, and he presses his face against the crook of my neck and
shouts incoherently, filling me with life, giving himself up to me.
I hold him quietly for a long time afterwards, lazily stroking his
hair, his back, my eyes closed as he anoints my face with his lips. A
kiss for every hurt we ever caused each other, something in me
whispers. I tighten my arms around him, tears welling unexpectedly in
my eyes, rolling down the sides of my face.
"Don't cry," he whispers, kissing my mouth. "Don't you cry tonight.
No sadness, Mulder. No nightmares?" he prompts me, smiling softly,
his movements catlike as he rubs his cheek against my hand while I
stroke him. "Just this."
I can't help but smile back. "Just this," I echo.
Later, when we sleep, there are no dreams.
There's only the music, winding long into the night. And Alex, warm
and beautiful in my arms.
The commotion we find in the mess hall in the morning is not the
usual breakfast din. Every chair in the place is empty, some
overturned. Cups of coffee steam untouched and food sits half eaten
on the plates while men and women cluster around their unit leaders.
Orders are shouted over the melee while weapons and ammunition are
distributed, armed units hurrying past us as we cut a path towards
the hastily improvised tactical center.
"What's the situation?" Alex asks without preamble, accepting a gun
from the weapons officer in charge and handing it to me, grabbing
another one for himself.
"Perimeter alert sounded ten minutes ago. We're sending people out as
fast as we can, but it might not be fast enough," the weapons officer
tells us nervously. Alex looks at me as the man goes on speaking, and
I tuck my loaded gun into my waistband and help him load his. "All
civilians are being evacuated to the lower levels, and we have men
standing by, ready to seal every entrance with the exception of the
escape route in case there's need."
"There won't be need," Alex assures him, looking at me again, his
voice razor-sharp, determination in his eyes.
I nod at him, and thirty seconds later we're joining a unit and
racing out of the caves. The brightness outside is blinding,
disorienting for a moment. Time rushes forward, freed from its gloomy
prison, and everything moves fast, so fast, faster, bullets whizzing
by like angry bees, gunpowder and cordite stinging the air,
adrenaline pumping through me and my feet pounding the ground and-
And time runs out.
Before I realize what's happening I'm being shoved down, and someone
is firing close to my ear, falling against me. The grunt of pain I
hear is so familiar it makes my heart skip a beat.
Alex.
Always watching my back.
I turn to fire with him, straining to cradle him against me at the
same time, not sure yet about how badly he's hurt. His blood soaks my
arm, my chest, warm and slippery, so much of it, my eyes stinging and
fear clutching at me as I fire over and over, only peripherally aware
that the others are firing with me, each shot eerily muted through
the silencers in our guns.
As abruptly as it began, the fighting is over. Everything is so
quiet; and in the calm of the morning desert, my terror and grief are
deafening.
"Alex?" I croak, shaking as I hold him in my lap, trying to staunch
his bleeding, refusing to acknowledge the hopelessness of it. The
anguish etched in his face pierces through me, and I sob his name
this time. "Alex."
"Fox," he exhales. Saying my name with his last breath.
Through the blur of my tears, I watch the fire in his eyes dim and
die. I want to follow, run and bring him back to me, save him from
Death's grasp. Or, failing that, match my pace to his and let him
guide the way this time as we both step into darkness together.
But he's gone. He's gone, and I can't. The sun blazes down on us, the
wind stirs his hair, and Alex is still, growing cold, and all the
music in me is silenced.
And the world is still burning.
Don't Cry (Alt. Lyrics)—Guns N' Roses
If we could see tomorrow
Don't you cry tonight
I know the things you wanted
And don't you cry tonight
I thought I could live in your world
And don't you cry tonight
Passage
by Marcia Elena
There's a restless feeling in me tonight. The festivities here at
Home, subdued as they are, are too loud for me. Soft music weaves its
spell on couples as they dance, celebrating a birth, the soulful
notes plucked from the strings of cello and mandolin plucking at the
strings of my heart as well, awakening shadows in it. The torches set
far apart from each other on the cave walls do a poor job of
illuminating the vast spaces of our underground complex, making it
appear as if Time is mired in eternal twilight.
What of your plans
No one can live in sorrow
Ask all your friends
Times that you took in stride
They're back in demand
I was the one who's washing
Blood off your hands
I still love you baby
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you, baby
And don't you cry tonight
They're not what you have
With all the people talkin'
It's drivin' you mad
If I was standin' by you
How would you feel
Knowing your love's decided
And all love is real
Baby
Don't you cry tonight
Don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you, baby
And don't you cry tonight
As years all went by
With all the voices I've heard
Something has died
And when you're in need of someone
My heart won't deny you
So many seem so lonely
With no one left to cry to, baby
And don't you cry tonight
And don't you cry tonight
There's a heaven above you, baby
And don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry tonight
Baby, maybe someday
Don't you cry
Don't you ever cry
Don't you cry
Tonight
