A slight hesitation. "Yes."
"You don't seem too positive, Alex. Is it dead or not?"
Alex Krycek tightened his lips and looked away, then cleared his throat,
blinking away a moistness from his eyes that was suspiciously like tears.
"Yes. It's dead. A single bullet through the forehead."
"Good. Then there can be no doubt in the minds of others that you are truly
dead this time." The old man paused and frowned. "Is there a problem, Alex?"
"No... Yes... I never..."
Alex lowered his head, screwing his eyes tightly closed to stop the unwanted
tears from falling. The old man waited patiently, understanding, but willing
to let Alex find his own words. When they came, they were soft and low,
barely more than a whisper but the old man could hear the pain in them.
"I never thought he'd do it. Never thought he'd stand by and let..." Alex
took a deep breath and pulled himself up straight. "I always thought there
might be just a small part of him that... that might have cared for me."
Alex wiped his nose on the back of his hand, looking for all the world like
a small child rather than a strong resistance leader. "Skinner murdered 'me'
and all Mulder would do was stand by and let it happen."
"The clone made certain of that. It ensured Mulder would not be in a
position to save him. You needed to die and it made that sacrifice for
you."
"I need to know... How much of me was in it? How much did he see... and
loathe?"
Haunted, green eyes held the old man's and he knew that Alex would not back
off until he had an answer that satisfied him.
"Surprisingly little. It had all your memories of past encounters with AD
Skinner but without the reasons, and without your compassion. It saw Mr.
Skinner only as a tool it was controlling with the nanocytes. It had no
knowledge of how difficult it had been for you to cause him such pain." The
old man smiled wryly. "It knew of Mulder only as a threat to our world. Your
clone made it very easy for them to kill it."
"It's funny but, even after all these years I still hoped... I thought maybe
Mulder would join us."
"Still a dreamer, Alex? However, that was never a possibility. He was
embroiled too deeply into the plans of the Consortium long before you were
born. He was conceived into the role that he plays; his intellect, his
abilities; they were all engineered. Though they never expected him to
become such a rebel. Such a thorn in their side."
The old man pushed to his feet and walked slowly to the cabinet, withdrawing
his prize cognac and filling two glasses. He held one out to the younger
man.
"Come, Alex. Let us drink to victory... and then we really must get back to
work. Colonisation has begun and the Resistance may be all that stands
between the survival, or annihilation, of the human race."
Ten months later:
Mulder awoke with a start, the remnants of another nightmare still spinning
through his head. He rubbed a hand through his hair, feeling short strands
drenched in sweat, and he groaned loudly. It was always the same dream,
always the sight of Alex Krycek on his knees, demanding that Skinner turn
his gun on Mulder. He saw the flash from the gun barrel, saw the neat hole
drilled through the tall forehead; bone and gray matter exploding out the
back of the dark head... he saw Alex fall to the ground dead.
It had all happened so fast. He could remember hearing Alex's strange plea
to Skinner; trying to convince Skinner that his death would save thousands
of lives. It had been such a confusing jumble of images and words that he
had been frozen in disbelief, unable to reconcile what he was hearing and
seeing with the Alex Krycek he thought he knew.
"Why, Alex?"
This was the problem. It was these unresolved feelings, and the need to
understand exactly what had happened between them that kept his mind
revisiting those final moments. For what seemed like the thousandth time,
Mulder let his thoughts go back to that day, back to those last few seconds
of Alex Krycek's life. It was all wrong, but Mulder could not explain why.
DNA had proved it was Alex. His own memory could confirm it had been Alex's
voice, Alex's passionate words, but why had it been so important to Alex
that he die? Why had Alex almost beseeched Skinner to kill him?
"I was so sure..." He continued the words inside his head: that you loved
me.
Mulder felt his heart constrict in his chest once more, just as it always
did when he felt the full realisation of what he had lost. He cursed loudly.
For all his so-called great intellect, why did he always discover the truth
when it was far too late? Could things have been different between them if
he had learned to trust Alex sooner? He snorted in derision at his own
weakness. It was all a moot point now that Alex was dead.
"So why do I keep coming back to this?"
He grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, flicking through
the channels until he came to CNN. Mulder tried to let his thoughts of Alex
slip away as he focussed on the current story. Ten months ago this story
would have been sensational but now it was commonplace. The world was at war
with a silent, faceless enemy; one who was infiltrating all levels of
society and yet there were only a few who understood the true magnitude of
what humanity faced. To most of the world the strange circumstances
surrounding the death of one individual or another were the acts of
terrorism or misfortune, but Mulder knew all of those names and many of
those faces. He had seen a few of them onboard the Colonist mothership,
being prepared just as he was but, unlike him and those saved by Jeremiah
Smith, these ones were Colonists-controlled replicants.
Someone else out there knew all about them. Someone else was seeking them
out and destroying them, one by one but not openly, never allowing any
chance of a link being made between their deaths so as to avoid the truth
being revealed. Someone was fighting underground to slow down Colonisation.
Mulder thought of Alex once more.
Is this what you were? A member of an organisation seeking to prevent
Colonisation at all costs? A resistance fighter? Were you afraid that I
might become one of those creatures, wearing this face but working towards
the destruction of humanity? Is that why you wanted me dead?
It did not correlate. Alex had known that Mulder was not another Billy
Miles. He had been at the hospital so he would have been fully aware that
Mulder had been saved from that fate. So what possible reason could he have
had for wanting him dead?
"Unless he didn't know."
That same thought came whenever he looked back on those last few days and
yet it seemed that every time Mulder mulled over Alex's final words it
became even more apparent that Alex had been looking upon him as if he was
one of the Colonist replicants. But why? Only a short time earlier Alex had
been helping them to save Scully, delivering her into Reyes safe hands. No.
Something was amiss here. Alex had known he was Fox Mulder, the real Mulder
and not some alien carbon copy. Not a clone.
Could that Alex have been a clone?
Mulder shook his head. He had gone over all of these options many times
before, trying to figure out some way to turn that lifeless body into
something that was NOT Alex. His Alex. His beautiful Alex. Trying to find a
way to bring Alex back into this world, to pretend that he had not seen Alex
die.
Mulder gave another heartfelt, ragged sigh, remembering the other dreams
that plagued him; ones of Alex lying sated in his arms, his dark hair all
mussed up, his soft lips swollen from their kisses.
Why do I keep tormenting myself?
He glanced back up at the television screen, his body thrumming with desire
for a man he could never have, and he froze. It was gone so fast and Mulder
shook his head, laughing bitterly at his own deception but, for just one
moment, he thought he had seen Alex Krycek in the crowd gathered at the
scene of this latest mysterious death. However, he knew it had to be his
mind playing tricks on him. Alex was dead. Wasn't he?
Mulder turned off the television in self-disgust but he could not shake off
this feeling that he had seen Alex. He chewed on his lower lip, staring at
the blank screen, and then he gave in to the all-consuming urge, wanting
desperately to believe that the man had somehow faked his own death. Far
stranger things had happened after all, but the only way to be certain was
to switch the television back on as CNN tended to repeat their bulletins at
regular intervals. All he had to do was wait and watch that report again.
And then feel another little piece of my soul die when I realise I was
mistaken.
Mulder slammed a tape into the VCR, almost grateful that he had hired it
from the local video rental store that stood next door to this latest in a
string of motels, and he sat in front of the screen. Time passed so slowly
that he began to fidget, wondering whether he ought to break his silence and
contact the Gunmen to see if they had been taping all the news reports. Just
as he was about to give up it started. Mulder pressed record and watched,
eyes glued to the part of the screen where he was convinced he had seen
someone so like Alex that...
There it was, a face in the crowd, turning away into the shadow of the
person standing next to him. Mulder rewound the tape and paused, stepping
forward one frame at a time. His finger reached out and caressed the
out-of-focus features that were barely more than a blob amid a sea of faces.
It could have been anyone but Mulder was convinced it was Alex, every fibre
of his being screaming out in recognition of the lean frame and the blurred
face. Still, a tiny part of his mind cried out in denial, afraid of seeing
his hopes dashed into small pieces should this be but a figment of his
imagination. There was only one place he could go, only one safe place that
had the facilities to clean up the image on this cassette.
With shaking fingers he snatched the video from the machine and quickly
threw on his jeans and a T-shirt, uncaring that he had not washed or eaten.
Within fifteen minutes he was checking out of the seedy roadside motel and
pulling back onto the highway, mind already focused on the five hours it
would take him to reach the Lone Gunmen's headquarters.
Some time later he was standing outside their apartment, tape in hand. He
pushed passed a stunned Byers and handed the tape to an equally shocked
Langly.
"Need you to pick a face out of a crowd."
Langly looked even more surprised but quickly loaded the cassette and
started the software that would enhance the picture, moving through the
video until Mulder pointed out the area he wanted to focus on. The software
zoomed in on the area and then onto a face, its sophisticated programming
stabilising the surrounding pixels and slowly rebuilding the features.
Mulder stood behind Langly, eyes intent on the screen, heart beating faster
as every pass of the software brought the image into sharper relief.
"Is that Alex Krycek? Man, I thought he was dead."
"So did I."
Mulder stared at the face on the screen, seeing all the puzzle pieces
slotting into place. He wasn't sure whether to laugh, cry or smash his fist
through the screen, instead he was frozen in place as a tidal wave of
emotion crashed over him.
Alex was alive. That beautiful, rat bastard was still alive.
"I need to find him."
"We can send out feelers to the message boards, and put a cryptic request in
the Lone Gunmen. Maybe he reads it, or maybe someone close to him reads it."
Mulder stared at Byers. It was a long shot at best but Byers could be right.
The information on the message boards might seem outlandish to the majority
but to someone like Krycek, and the people he associated with, it might be
considered relevant source of the more esoteric data. However, Mulder was
also aware that Krycek must have had a good reason for faking his death in
so dramatic a way; a method that had left no more than the merest shadow of
doubt in even his mind. Whatever cryptic message he posted had to be
innocuous enough to be missed by Krycek's enemies yet contain something that
would draw Alex's attention.
Mulder let his mind wander back over the years to all the cases they had
shared when working as a team. Then he considered all the clandestine
meetings that had followed in later years but nothing sprang instantly to
mind that might not be interpreted the wrong way.
Statistics. Alex had quoted statistics on that car ride to Skyland Mountain.
He concentrated hard, blinking when he heard that familiar, soft voice in
his head.
"You know, Chernobyl, Exxon Valdez, Three Mile Island... they were all
linked to sleep deprivation. The U.S. Department of Transportation estimates
that over 190,000 fatal car crashes every year are linked to sleepiness."
What had been his response? Ah, yes, he thought, as he remembered the end of
that conversation.
"Did they estimate how many people are put to sleep listening to their
statistics?"
Mulder wondered if Alex would remember that conversation from all those
years ago, from a time when there had been a friendship slowly blossoming
between them. He tried not to think beyond that point, tried hard not to
recall that Alex had already been stringing him along. Had Alex been the one
to give Duane Barry Scully's address? Had he played an important role in her
abduction? Had he killed his father? He sneered at his own questions. Did
any of it matter anymore?
That was an easy question to answer. It didn't matter. He didn't care that
Alex may have been instrumental in some of the bad things that had happened
to both him and Scully during those early years. He knew Alex had more than
paid for those crimes with his later actions, only Mulder had been too full
of his own self-pity and narrow vision to recognise how often Alex had been
the one to pull his ass out of danger. Suddenly, he was aware that this was
what had been niggling at him all these months; the reason why he had said
goodbye to Scully and left everything behind him without a backward glance.
Alex had gone out on a limb for him on so many occasions that his words to
Skinner seemed ludicrous in retrospect. In those last few days Alex had been
presented with so many easy opportunities to kill him that it was madness
for him to make such a clumsy attempt under those conditions, with Skinner
holding a gun on him.
"Mulder?"
He blinked rapidly and looked back at three expectant faces, realising that
his thoughts had wandered away, reaching back to the darkness of those last
moments with Alex. Why didn't I realise how much you meant to me? Why did it
take me until seeing your lifeless body to realise how much I wanted you
warm and alive in my arms?
"Mulder?"
"The stars are ascending and, statistically, I should be driven to sleep but
I shall stay awake and await your call."
Frohike stared at Mulder as if he had sprouted a second head but then he
began to type furiously, sending the message out across the various message
boards. His fingers stilled, falling into his lap after the send key was hit
for a final time, and Mulder knew there was nothing more he could do but
return to his old apartment and wait.
"You know, Mulder. Even if he does read this and figure out it's for him...
it doesn't mean he's going to contact you."
"I know."
Mulder mumbled his thanks. Stoically, he acquiesced to the touches and hugs
that his oldest friends forced upon him, grateful that they could accept his
sudden disappearance and reappearance in their lives without censure, and
then he left quickly, feeling alive for the first time in ten long months.
Alex scanned the message board perfunctorily, just as he always did, picking
out only the emails attached to certain names that he had committed to
memory long ago. He knew which of the three were Frohike, Langly and Byers.
He could see just enough of each man's personality in the strangely cryptic
messages they posted. The old man had given up trying to dissuade him from
this seemingly worthless activity, finally understanding that it was Alex's
way of trying to keep a lifeline to the man he had loved for so long.
Mulder had disappeared soon after Alex's supposed death, leaving no real
clue as to where he might be headed. He had withdrawn every cent from his
checking account so he would leave no paper trail of credit slips for
another to follow. Even Skinner, with all the resources of the Bureau behind
him, was unable to locate Mulder, and surveillance on Dana Scully had proved
that she was just as much in the dark. Strange, but he had assumed that
Mulder would marry Scully, becoming a father to her child. He had expected
Mulder to be spending his days changing diapers in between sessions in front
of his computer writing a novel detailing his exploits with the paranormal.
Certainly Alex had entertained fantasies of waiting in line at a celebrity
book-signing session and surprising their guest, best-selling novelist, Fox
William Mulder.
He snorted softly as he wondered how Mulder would have reacted upon seeing
him again.
Probably stand up and punch me in the face—or stab me with his pen.
He grinned at the image of an irate Mulder armed with a pen and then he
opened another message, his mind no longer focussed on the words in front of
him. Instead he became lost in thoughts of Fox Mulder, trying to understand
what had made Mulder drop off the face of the Earth. All he knew for certain
was that the Colonists did not have him this time.
The stars are ascending and, statistically, I should be driven to sleep but
I shall stay awake and await your call.
Alex frowned and read the words aloud. He rechecked the sender's address— Frohike—and then read the message again. These were not Frohike's words.
Someone else had made them up. Half-forgotten memories of a car ride to
Skyland Mountain in search of the abducted Dana Scully came flooding back.
He saw again the truck heading directly towards them, horn blaring as Mulder
drifted across the road into its path, his eyes heavy from too little sleep.
"Mulder?" He knows I'm alive.
Alex frowned. Surely, if Mulder was certain he was alive then the message
would read something in the way of 'One-armed, Rat bastard, I know you're
alive'.
He glanced across to where the old man was working, knowing he would have a
new assignment shortly as his people had tracked down another of the
Colonist replicants. However, there were others who were just as capable of
handling these elimination tasks and with far less risk to their personal
safety. His leader's clipped voice drew his attention.
"James Stalwart. Disappeared under unusual circumstances 18 months ago,
returned home under equally strange circumstances 4 months ago."
"Is he on the list?"
"He was one of those taken with Fox Mulder."
"But not one of those saved by Jeremiah Smith."
"No. Absalom held no record of this man, and he was not on any of the
surveillance tapes taken from the survivor camp."
"Then he's a replicant."
"Possibly."
"Elimination?"
"Only after confirmation."
"I'll send Peters."
The old man raised one eyebrow in surprise. "You have other plans?"
"Aren't you the one who wants me to keep a lower profile?"
"There is little point in faking your death if you then allow your face to
be broadcast all over CNN."
Alex smarted at the rebuke in the old man's voice but it was there for a
good reason. He had been careless, becoming too involved in identifying
another possible replicant target to take note of the tourist filming the
crowd with his camcorder. It was fortunate that the quality had been too
poor to single him out from the rest of the crowd—or so he had believed
until now. Alex frowned, his heart contracting in his chest as he wondered
if, somehow, Mulder had recognised him as being one of those tiny pink
blobs. It was a strange coincidence that Mulder had sent him this message
within a day of the report being broadcast. Then he realised that there were
far too many anomalies surrounding Fox Mulder to be considered mere
coincidences. That razor-sharp intellect and eidetic memory were more than
capable of picking out a seemingly formless shape and making sense of it so
why should this instance be any different.
"Mulder believes I'm alive."
"Hmmm. Not unexpected, but there is no reason for you to validate that
belief."
"I know."
A deep sigh of resignation filled the air as the old man walked over and
dropped a hand on Alex's shoulder.
"You are my protégé, Alex. You are the one I have chosen to carry on with my
work should I meet a real car bomb before the Colonists have been driven off
this planet." His voice gentled. "Of all people, I truly understand what it
is like to leave loved ones behind, but it is a sacrifice we both made...
willingly."
"He can be of use to us. He's been there, inside a mothership. He's seen
things, knows things. He'd be a great asset..."
"Yes, yes. I know all this." The Englishman shook his head, seamed mouth
tightening. "However, Mr. Mulder has never been the most stable of
personalities..."
"I still think we could use him."
"WE could use him?"
Alex had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he heard the emphasis
on the 'we', but Alex knew he was right. Even if he hated rather than loved
Mulder, the man would still be an asset to the Resistance, and the fact that
he had dropped off the face of the Earth was no reason to consider him
unstable. People walked away from their lives for many reasons, and it was
not as if he had walked out on any responsibilities. He was no longer in the
employ of the Bureau, and secret DNA testing had proved he was not the
father of Scully's baby either but, instead, a half-brother.
The old man relented. "Perhaps you are right... and if I cannot trust your
judgement then I ought to be seeking a new protégé. But be careful, Alex."
Alex smiled wryly, hoping that he was not making a fool of himself over
Mulder and destroying the trust the Englishman had placed in him.
2630 Hegal Place, Apartment 42, Alexandria Alex looked across from the dark shadows of an alleyway at the apartment in
question, seeing it lit from within for the first time in many months. A
shadow passed across the bedroom window and Alex's heart beat faster, too
familiar with that lanky yet graceful figure to consider it being anyone but
Fox Mulder. He licked his lips, unconsciously, already visualising the
handsome features with that full lower lip pouting and those intense
chameleon eyes focused on him.
Taking a deep breath, Alex walked across the street and entered Mulder's
tenement building. He took the stairs two at a time up to the fourth floor
and then paused, staring along the familiar corridor towards Apartment 42.
He moved swiftly but silently until he was standing before the door in
question and tapped softly on the thick wood. Inside he could hear the
sounds of someone, of Mulder, coming closer. A soft rasp of cloth against
the other side of the door told him that Mulder was looking through the
small viewing hole. Bolts were flung aside and the door opened, and Alex
found he was staring into that well-loved face.
"Alex?"
"Mulder."
A suspicious brightness glinted in Mulder's eyes before they hardened to a
cold steel-grey.
"Are you gonna invite me in?"
"You don't usually wait for permission."
Alex raised an eyebrow and stepped forward, brushing past Mulder who
seemed disinclined to stand aside. The contact was electric, sending sparks
of fire racing through to every nerve ending and Alex had to close his eyes
to contain his reaction to that simple touch. In the silence he could hear
Mulder breathing raggedly, an echo to the harsh breaths that came from his
own suddenly labouring chest. Alex kept walking, hearing the door close
behind him and then the soft footfall as Mulder followed on behind. He
paused in the centre of the lounge, back still to Mulder, and waited, unsure
what to do next. This was not going as expected. He had considered a dozen
scenarios from a fist in the face to the door being slammed in his face, to
total indifference as Mulder brought him in merely to try and pump him for
information. Instead, Alex had seen pleasure fill the handsome features
before Mulder brought himself back under control.
Could that pleasure be for him? Could Mulder actually be pleased to find him
alive and kicking?
Alex wanted to believe that this could be the case, that Mulder might feel
something for him beyond that intensity of seeing a ghost brought back to
life.
"Why?"
Alex turned, surprised at the rawness in that single word. He didn't have to
be a genius to figure out the question for he knew Mulder was referring to
his supposed death.
"I needed to be free so I could continue my work."
"Why Skinner?"
"If not Skinner then who else? Should I have waited for a bounty hunter to
catch up with me? It would have known instantly that what it had was a clone
and not the real me." Alex swallowed hard then barked out a short laugh.
"You never tried to stop Skinner."
"No. I didn't. I was... confused. Angry. I thought we'd finally reached each
other, found some common ground. I thought we had worked through all the...
past mistakes."
"You thought I'd betrayed you again."
"Yes."
"So what happens now?"
Alex's eyes widened in shock as Mulder's features began to morph into the
square face of the bounty hunter.
"I take you to MY leader."
He was grabbed before he could pull the plam from his jacket pocket, and
spun around with his one arm pinned brutally behind his back while the
bounty hunter's other strong arm wrapped around his chest. Alex kicked out
at his captor then bucked sharply, throwing his head back to slam against
the creature's human-looking nose but all to no avail. He was pulled back
tighter against the massive chest, and recoiled as the bounty hunter
whispered crudely in his ear.
"Well, aren't you the feisty one."
Moments later he was falling to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. An
encroaching darkness followed a sting against his neck, and Alex's last cry
before the darkness claimed him was for Mulder.
Mulder froze outside his apartment, convinced he had heard Alex calling his
name. He fumbled with his keys, wishing he had not given into the sudden
urge to fetch in a few groceries from the nearby store. Just as he was about
to shove his key into the lock, the door opened and he came face to face
with the alien bounty hunter. The creature's shock rippled through its human
disguise and, heavily burdened by an unconscious Krycek, it could not react
in time to prevent Mulder from slamming a fist into its face. It fell
backwards then twisted, agilely, out of the tangle with Krycek's body,
bellowing in shock as it felt cold steel pierce the base of its thick neck.
Mulder withdrew the plam and wiped it on the alien's clothing, and then he
kicked aside the corpse and dragged Alex away from the swiftly liquefying
body. He held Alex in his arms as he watched the bounty hunter's features
melt into a green viscous fluid.
His hand reached out, fingers shaking, to brush an errant lock of hair back
from Alex's forehead and he spoke softly to the unconscious man.
"See you lost that stupid-ass haircut."
The Alex he held in his arms was leaner than he recalled; the high
cheekbones far more prominent, the eyes a little more sunken as if he had
carried the weight of the world for far too long. Mulder could see the fine
lines around his eyes that had appeared over the last few years, a testament
to the hardship of the life he had led. Long, dark eyelashes formed tiny
dark semicircles, closing out Mulder's view of the stormy green eyes. His
lips were pale, the slight pout tempting Mulder until he could not resist
grazing them with his own.
Mulder pulled back sharply at the sound of footsteps echoing along the
corridor. He cursed his own stupidity in allowing the sight of Alex to
overwhelm his common sense. Where there was one Bounty Hunter, there could
be more, and if not them, then maybe one of those replicants. He lay Alex
carefully onto the floor and peeked out, breathing a sigh of relief when he
realised it was one of his former neighbours returning at this late hour.
She gave him a strange look but Mulder had become used to this over the
years he had spent in this apartment. Seconds later she was inside her own
apartment, her door bolted firmly behind her.
With infinite care, and a lot of effort, Mulder hefted Alex's heavy weight
over his shoulder into a fireman's lift, and carried the unconscious man
down the stairs. The elevator would have been easier but would limit his
escape choices should another of the Colonists attack. He checked all was
clear before moving to his car, keeping to the deep shadows for the most
part, and then he lowered Alex onto the back seat.
Mulder stared back up at the apartment, wondering whether he ought to go
back for the groceries but the lights of an approaching vehicle made him
realise the foolishness of such action. There were plenty of 24/7 fast food
joints and stores dotted around and, even if he could not stop, they were
hardly likely to starve to death before morning.
Mulder pushed the rear door closed and then stepped into the driver's seat.
He gunned the engine and pulled away slowly, not wanting to advertise his
presence any more than was necessary.
Very slowly, Alex opened his eyes, catching the flickers of movement as
someone paced back and forth across the room. Judging by the basic décor, he
was lying on a bed in some nondescript motel room, however, the figure
moving back and forth near by was far more memorable but not in the way he
wanted to remember Fox Mulder. He wondered why the Bounty Hunter had
reverted to Mulder's form. It did not make sense unless it was setting up a
new trap to ensnare another victim—but that did not explain why he was not
secured to the bed.
Alex closed his eyes as the creature wearing Mulder's body stopped pacing
and moved to his side.
"Alex?"
It sat down beside him, one hand reaching out to touch his face. Alex used
that moment to act. He kicked out at the creature, sending it tumbling to
the floor and he clambered from the bed, fingers digging into his jacket to
pull out the plam, but coming up empty.
"Looking for this?"
Alex was stopped in his tracks when the creature pulled out his plam from
its own pocket and triggered the release mechanism. Meagre light from the
bedside lamp reflected off the wicked steel of the spike, taunting Alex as
he watched the lanky figure climb back to its feet.
It gave Alex a strange look and then its eyes widened as if it had
discovered the answer to some difficult puzzle.
"I'm not who you think I am, Alex. Unless I made a mistake and you're still
trying to kill me."
"No shit."
"The Bounty Hunter's dead. I killed it."
Alex sneered at the creature, amazed that it could even consider he could be
so gullible as to believe such a story. His eyes flicked around the room,
trying to see if there was anything else he could use as a weapon. The
creature reached into its pocket and pulled out an almost identical plam,
flicking the release switch to send the spike flashing into the open.
"Never leave home without it," it quipped but Alex was not convinced,
assuming all hunters would carry a plam so they could deal with their own
traitorous kind, or with the Rebels.
"What would it take to convince you, Alex? I've got an eidetic memory,
remember. Name something, some incident from the past and I'll answer." The
creature wearing Mulder's face stared hard at him, the hazel eyes seeming to
plead with him. "Or perhaps this will convince you."
It slashed the plam along its own forearm, beads of bright red blood welling
up from the small, self-inflicted wound, the face tightening into a grimace
of pain. Alex looked at the blood, then back to the pain-filled face.
"Mulder?"
"I take it, it used my face when it attacked you. Or do you still want me
dead?"
Alex closed his eyes momentarily, finally understanding that Mulder was
referring to the night when Skinner shot a hole through his clone's
forehead.
"I've never wanted you dead, Mulder."
Mulder gave a crooked half-smile. "Took me a long time to work that one
out... among other things."
"Any other things in particular?"
Mulder gave him a cryptic smile, his eyes trailing the length of Alex's body
before alighting on his face once more. Alex held his gaze, seeing an
openness in those hazel eyes that had rarely been there for him in the past.
He recognised that look. He saw the desire that had enlarged the pupils,
aware that it was not mere physical lust but a true depth of longing.
"You... and me. Us."
"There's an us?"
Mulder treated Alex to one of those wicked grins. "Not yet... but there will
be."
"You seem pretty sure of yourself, Mulder."
"I am."
Alex frowned, taken aback by this sudden turnaround in Mulder's character
from a man who liked to beat him to a pulp given any excuse. He had
witnessed the full weight of Mulder's single-minded pursuit as the man
tackled his X-Files but never had he experience it aimed directly at him,
and something told Alex that Mulder would pursue this new goal relentlessly.
"Never do things by halves, do you, Mulder?"
"If a job's worth doing..." Mulder let the phrase trail off, but Alex knew
it was unnecessary for him to finish as they both understood what Mulder was
saying. However, the merest thought that Mulder would consider him something
worthwhile sent a warm feeling flooding through Alex's body.
"I've had ten months to think about this, Alex. Ten long months of wishing
things had been different between us. Ten months of dreams where I
fantasised over what I should have done, what I would do if a miracle
happened and..." Mulder swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing as he choked on the
raw emotion. "I've spent the past three hours watching you sleep on that
bed. Plenty of time to realise that I don't intend to waste any more time."
Alex could feel his own defences crumbling, backing off slowly as Mulder
advanced on him. His knees hit the back of the bed and he sat down abruptly.
Mulder stopped several feet away and slowly began to strip off his T-shirt,
dropping the material to the floor at his feet and leaving no doubt in
Alex's mind as to what he wanted. Shoes were kicked off and then Mulder
slowly pulled down the zipper on his jeans before dragging the soft, worn
denim over his lean hips, letting the baggy jeans fall to the floor. He
stepped out of them and stood before Alex clad only in boxers and socks, his
hard shaft tenting the thin cotton of his shorts, a small wet patch
providing evidence of his full arousal.
Alex felt a bubble of hysteria welling up from deep inside, uncertain
whether he ought to be ecstatic or angry at the sight before him. He had
wanted this for so long, had dreamed of having Mulder this way but he had
thought he had reconciled himself to never having him. Now that Mulder was
offering him what he had always wanted, Alex was unsure, afraid of revealing
the depth of his own desire in case this was just a vicious game Mulder was
playing.
It's no game.
Alex could see the hunger and need tensing the muscles in the almost naked
frame standing before him. He could read the desire in the bright eyes that
had locked onto his own. With hesitant, fumbling fingers he started to tug
his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans, eyes resolutely holding
Mulder's as he waited for Mulder's reaction on seeing his cruelly truncated
arm. Not a single trace of pity filled those eyes as he revealed his
disfigurement, only acceptance. Alex toed off his shoes, kicking them to one
side and then he made to stand up so he could remove his own snugly fitting
jeans. His action was prevented as Mulder stepped forward, hands lying
firmly on Alex's shoulders. Alex did not resist as he was gently pushed
backwards to sprawl on the bed. He watched as Mulder's agile fingers opened
his jeans, meekly following Mulder's unspoken request to raise his hips as
the black denim was pulled from his body and dropped to the floor.
Mulder knelt on the bed, straddling Alex's hips, hands falling forward to
either side of Alex's shoulders as Mulder leaned over. Those incredibly
full, soft lips touched his gently, the kiss deepening as Alex let the last
of his defences fall. He moaned softly as Mulder's tongue swept across his
lips, demanding more, and he opened himself fully to the kiss. He felt
Mulder's body moving to his right side, sliding down beside him, one long
arm trailing across his chest, palm smoothing over his skin. He felt a jolt,
as if an electric current had zinged through to his nerve endings, when that
palm grazed a nipple, his body arching up into the touch.
Alex opened his eyes as Mulder's heated touch left his body, confused when
Mulder clambered from the bed until he realised why. The boxers were tugged
down and discarded, leaving Alex with the sight of Mulder in all his glory,
printed forever in his mind. Mulder stepped back to the bed and offered his
hand, pulling Alex to his feet. With a lascivious smile he placed his thumbs
inside the waistband of Alex's boxers and then drew them down over the
burgeoning erection. Mulder dropped to his knees as he pulled the material
down to Alex's ankles and then encouraged Alex to step out of the boxers.
His hands slid up Alex's legs, from calf to hip before slipping back to cup
an ass cheek in each palm.
Alex moaned in appreciation as he felt Mulder's warm breath on his shaft,
crying out softly as Mulder's tongue slid the length of him from root to
head, teasing along the slit and then pressing against the sensitive bundle
of nerve endings. His hand moved to Mulder's hair, fingers carding through
the long strands, tracing the curve of an ear before trailing down the side
of Mulder's throat. He reached across, gripping one shoulder tightly as the
hot mouth engulfed his aching flesh. Mulder released him for a moment,
coating two fingers in saliva before taking the head of Alex's penis back
into his mouth. Those fingers slid between his asscheeks, toying with the
tight ring of muscle before pressing inside.
Alex gasped as he felt one finger moving inside him, pushing deeper in
perfect rhythm with the action of Mulder's luscious mouth on his cock. The
second finger soon joined it, thrusting deep inside him. He cried out as
those fingers found that special place, sending waves of pleasure radiating
throughout his body, pushing him higher until he toppled over the edge,
crying out Mulder's name as he fell in ecstasy.
He slumped forward, only his hand on Mulder's shoulder and Mulder's strong
hands around his hips preventing his knees from buckling completely. Mulder
nudged him slightly and he felt himself fall back to sit down on the bed
with Mulder still kneeling between his parted thighs. His eyes were still
closed but he felt Mulder rise, felt hands pushing his legs back, exposing
him to Mulder. Alex gasped as he felt the head of Mulder's shaft pushing
against the relaxed hole, pleasure and pain intermingling as the entrance
was breached. It had been so long since he had allowed this pleasure,
unwilling to surrender to any lover other than the man he had fallen in love
with: Fox Mulder.
Droplets of Mulder's sweat dripped onto his oversensitised flesh, his eyes
only opening so Alex could store away the memory of this moment. Above him,
Mulder's sweat-soaked hair was flopping down, slightly obscuring his face,
but Mulder flung back his head, flicking the damp strands aside, eyes glazed
with passion as he stared deep into Alex's eyes. A slow smile curled across
Mulder's face as he swept towards his climax, the love radiating from
lust-darkened eyes overwhelming Alex. He held on tight as Mulder lost
control, thrusting hard into his body, filling him with liquid fire before
collapsing across him.
After a few moments, Mulder rolled to one side, drawing Alex with him until
he lay wrapped in Mulder's arms. Those kiss-swollen lips claimed his own
again, deeply possessive as he lay waste to Alex's mouth before gentling.
Ragged breathing eased slowly, rapid heart beats slowing as their bodies
relaxed, warm and sated against each other. Alex looked across at Mulder as
he felt the other man rise onto one elbow, accepting the curious stare
without fear.
"What happens now, Alex?"
"What do you want to happen?"
"A Fairy tale ending. We ride off into the sunset together..."
"You want me to mount you next time?"
Mulder laughed softly. "That's what I always loved about you, Alex. The way
you can twist even the most innocuous of sentences."
Alex sobered, staring hard at the man lying beside him. "There's still a
man, who believes as I do, that there is a chance to save the human race
from annihilation."
"Resist or serve."
Alex nodded and then waited, watching those intelligent eyes lose focus as
Mulder considered the options. He looked back at Alex, the slow smile
reaching his eyes.
"Never was any good at serving... according to Skinner."
Alex grinned and nestled against Mulder's sweaty chest, feeling Mulder's
arms wrap around him, holding him close. Tonight he would push away any
doubts about the future, living only for this moment. After all, he had no
idea what the future held, or even if there would be a future for them
beyond this moment in time, but as long as they were alive and kicking he
had to believe that there would be a chance for them.
Alive and Kicking
by Tarlan
"Is it dead?"
