by Ursula
Part V
Fortunatos Nimium
He saved me. After all and everything, it was he.
I could find no peace in my heart, no rest for my body in my apartment. The walls closed in around me. I went to the little Russian teahouse on Fifth Street. I wasn't looking for him. I didn't want him. Sprawled in my chair, I listened to the voices around me. I cataloged a cheekbone here, exquisite and sharp, as elegant as a blade. His lips were incongruous framed by a heavy mustache and beard. His eyes... well, there was no one who had his eyes, not even the gypsy with his violin whose lashes were an ebony spill around the dark tapestry of his eyes.
Clutching a sack of cookies in my hand, I stumbled out. I wasn't looking and he wasn't there.
In my dark captivity, in my throne of sorrow and pain, he had arrived surrounded by a nimbus of flame as if he had burst from hell or held the fiery sword of an avenging angel. There was soot against the marble of his face; his eyes glowed like a cat in the dark. A flame-thrower cradled in his arm, Alex burst in and immediately turned his weapon on my companion, the creature that tormented me. My eyes widened in joy to see it dance... the flames shooting so prettily from the oily flesh.
I thought I was dreaming as Alex bent over me, uttering soothing words, calling me 'beloved'. My hands twitched, wanting to reach for him, as memory betrayed me. The fire burning in the background, illuminating his features so his pale, almost translucent skin seemed to radiate light. He was beautiful, so beautiful and I wanted to kiss him, to bury my face in his silken hair.
The pronged restraints eased from my flesh. He knelt between my legs, which were still obscenely spread. Tears glistened on his cheeks when he glanced up at me. "I'll take you back to her. I promise. Just don't die, Mulder, please hang on."
Her? Oh, Scully, I had almost forgotten telling Krycek that she was my lover, a twist of the knife I could not resist. When he freed me, I realized that I had forgotten how to walk. My legs buckled and I started to fall. He caught me. I held on to him, one hand gripping the prosthesis that reminded me of the bitter torment of that trip to Russia. His breaths sounded as if he was running, but we were barely moving. It was hot and smoke swirled around us to the point where it was impossible to see.
I should have told him to let me go. I knew he was risking his life. Yet, selfishly I clung to him, struggling to hold up my weight, although it hurt, and I was weak. He had to drag me out of there, both of us coughing and choking, reeling dizzily as we staggered from the ship.
Strong hands caught me... Walter's hands. I nestled into his broad chest like a child. Carried away by Skinner, Scully hovering over me, I guess I didn't even consider what happened to Alex.
When I woke up at the hospital, I thought that it had been a dream. Walter and Scully were there, looking concerned and yet somehow happy. I was swathed in bandages, an oxygen tube taped near my nose. My chest felt sore and my mouth felt so dry that when I moved my tongue to speak, it stuck to my gums.
It felt strange to be between sheets and lying down. It seemed as if I had spent a lifetime in that lab, a pinned butterfly beating its wings for the edification of captors who did not even have the grace to kill me before making me a specimen.
"Thirsty." I said.
Scully checked my chart. That was my Scully, brave, loving, but so precise. Walter slid an ice chip in my mouth and smiled at me. I said, "I have to thank you for getting me out of there."
Smiles faded. They looked at each other with guilty expressions. What?
"We didn't exactly get you out." Scully said. "We would have, but Krycek said it was better that he go alone." Her hand rested on her gently rounded stomach. She said, "I had to worry about the baby and Walter had sprained his ankle."
So it wasn't a dream. I asked, "Where is he?"
Scully said, "I don't know. We were in such a hurry to get out of there."
Perhaps more insightful than most people thought, Walter said, "He got out. I made sure that he was in motion before we left. He's a survivor, Mulder. He's okay."
There were riots in the streets. It was a real life equivalent to the panic seen during the broadcast of War of the Worlds. I could be certain that it was the last of them, of both the aliens and the Consortium.
No one cleaned up and hid the evidence. I had to be moved to a special ward in the military hospital that served the president and high level Intelligence people. Everyone wanted an interview with Fox Mulder, the man who brought down the alien invasion single-handedly.
Right. Somewhere Krycek must have been laughing. Marita, Krycek, and my lost ally with the fastidious habits and the hundred dollar manicures had gone through the back door and counted coup. I only buzzed in their faces until they swatted me.
I turned down most of the interviews, directed some to the Gunmen who were becoming folk heroes. Eventually, my 'seven-day wonder' status went away.
By the time, the doctors thought I was well enough to go home, only the UFO magazines were interested in me. The rest of them went back to chewing their cud, the narrow escape from slaughter a footnote in their lives.
The disability leave surprised Scully and Skinner. Oh, they drew it up and presented it to me, obviously expecting argument. It was almost amusing to watch them as I said, "That's a good idea. I'm not really ready to go back yet. Doggett's taking care of you all right, Scully?"
"I'm fine, Mulder." She said, and for once, I think she really meant it. I stood up, still stiff and constrained from the healing wounds. Hobbling over, I leaned down to cup her cheek. She smelled good as always even if she's been working in the lab and I caught the faint whiff of some chemical beneath the perfume. I kissed her tenderly and smiled.
Standing on tiptoe, she returned the kiss. She was beautiful, clearly showing now, and her face was rounded, softened with the sheen of contentment. "Call me when you're done with the appointment. I want to know if they can finally see if it's a boy or a girl."
It's a normal pregnancy. At least the fetus is human, and Scully's ovaries have been restored. Who knows what the Smoker had in mind? I'm not the father. Jeff is or was... or whatever you would call it when his sperm was used to inseminate her. Guess Spender had a sentimental urge to have a grandchild from his legitimate son. Scully says she doesn't mind. Poor Jeff... she says, in the end, he made the right choice and paid a terrible price. So the child will be my half nephew or niece. I've accepted that now. Accepted that Spender gave me up to the aliens, his first born son. It was very much the dramatic gesture, but then he expected to be rewarded. The alien healer could have given him back his life.
But The Smoker is dead. Alex killed him. I considered as I looked at Walter, who appeared to intend to stay, that Alex killed both of my fathers. In a way, Spender's death balances William Mulder's, although both of them were tainted. As history will be written, they were collaborators in a planned holocaust that would have consumed every human on earth.
Feeling cold, I covered myself with a quilt. I often felt chilly after my abduction. There was no reason for it. Other than the scars, I'm healthier now than before I was taken. Yet I shivered, wishing for the warmth of another body at night; I know I could have had one, Walter even, but I knew for whom I longed and I couldn't do that to Skinner. I loved him, but there was a dark frozen spot in my soul that only Alex could fill.
Walter stared at me, as I lay there wrapped in my own empty arms. "Mulder, are the doctors sure that the aliens didn't do something to you?"
"I'm okay." I replied. I studied his face, not a beautiful face like Alex's, but it's strong, interesting, and his eyes are really lovely, so warm and brown. He took off his glasses, polishing them. "Have you seen him," I asked?
Games are something Walter can play, and he can be as devious as Alex is when he chooses. Actually, he's better at it than I am. He doesn't get caught. He didn't pretend not to understand me now. He replied, "Yes, we had unfinished business. I still had those things in my body. Remember that day I didn't visit?" At my nod, he concluded, "I was sweating out the nanocytes in the critical ward. It wasn't fun, but I feel as if he gave my life back. We're even now."
"Just because of that? He did it to you." I replied. I closed my eyes, visions of my lover red as blood playing against my closed lids.
"You know better." Walter's voice, so flat in those meetings, grows deep and rough in his anger. Maybe that's why I so frequently enrage him... just to hear the passion rise. "He brought you back, Mulder, and, hard as it is for me to admit, he's the one that brought them down."
I opened my eyes again, considering him. Could I? Should I? But he was standing up, gathering up his coat. "Walter, you wanted him when I had him. I saw the way you looked at him."
"I looked at you both, Mulder. You were beautiful together." Walter admitted.
"If it was you, if you could take him back, would you?" I asked, leaning up on one elbow and gazing into his compassionate eyes.
"In a heartbeat, Mulder, in a heartbeat." Walter said. He closed the distance between us, leaned down and kissed my forehead. "You're alive, Mulder, about time you started to act it."
Damn, the man had hidden depths. I watched him leave. The only problem was, I had no idea how to find Alex.
A few moments later, someone was at the door. I said, "Walter, I didn't lock it. It's open."
A husky voice answered, "It's Krycek."
The blanket fell around my feet. I almost fell in my hurry to get to the door. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. It pulsed at my temples. I didn't know what I wanted to do, hit him? Kiss him?
"Mulder, this is heavy," he said. His voice was soft as it used to be.
Slowly, I opened the door. He was wearing a suit, an expensive one, soft woolen cloth draped becomingly over his lean body. His hair was shining; while I was gone, he must have let it grow. I stood looking at him instead of inviting him in or sending him away. He was carrying a box. It must have been heavy as he was perspiring and he kept readjusting the weight.
Finally, I reached forward and took it, asking, "Is this for me?"
A quick motion of his head, a narrowing of his eyes, and an upward jerk of his chin swallowed the sarcastic reply that question deserved.
The threshold stopped him as surely as if he was Count Dracula come to call. Half bowing, I said, "Come in, Alex."
He flinched as if I had hit him. It had been a long time since I had said his first name. Why in the hell did he have to give me those keys? Couldn't he have refused? Made an excuse. Why didn't you lie to me, Alex, lie to me beautifully and make it all a bitter dream.
His head bowed. He was suddenly shy and tongue-tied. I put the box on my desk. Opening it, I saw files, computer discs, and a small metal box. I opened the box first and winced as I saw Sam's necklace, the one she'd been wearing when she disappeared.
"Spender kept these." Alex said. "There's some pictures. Sam and Jeff mostly. The rest of it is her file from the experiments. I marked the ones that I would rather not see if it was my sister, but I gave them all to you. I didn't want to hold anything back. The pictures I thought you would want to see are on top. She looked as if she was happy in a few of them."
My hands shook. I opened the album and paged through it. She and Jeff seemed allies, conspiring against the adult world. I wondered if he had ever known who the girl was. What did he think? Did he miss her as much as I did when she ran away? The tears fell down my cheeks, blinding me.
"I can call Scully or Skinner." Alex said.
"No, don't." I said, "I'll make some tea. Stay awhile. Your cookies are on the counter in the kitchen. I just bought them."
"Yeah, I saw you." Alex replied.
"You hid?" I said.
"I wasn't in the mood for a scene. I didn't know you still went there. I haven't seen you there since we..." Alex stopped his sentence unfinished. His eyelashes shaded downward.
"Used to go there together?" I finished. I smirked, enjoying Alex's discomfort. Absently, I added, "I was in the mood for your Russian kisses."
The quickly suppressed smile alerted me to my unintentionally spoken truth. I laughed softly and said, "The cookies, Alex." And then examining the beautiful face, I added, "for a start anyway."
For once, Alex didn't want to play games. He looked away and then said, "I'm trying to clean up some loose ends. Make amends." He shifted his weight, cupped his left arm briefly. I wondered if it hurt?
"I should go." Alex said. He took a step toward the door. I grabbed him and he shrank back distrustfully. "Please, Mulder, I'm tired. Don't start anything."
"I just want you to stay. I need someone to talk to." I said, "I'll make tea. Set the cookies out. Plates are the same place as always."
The pain in his expression was so raw I could barely stand to look at it. I suppose he didn't know how much it would hurt being here. Giving him a moment, I fell into the familiar movements, preparing the kettle, thinking of other times, other places. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach for a plate, arrange a paper towel over it, and lay the cookies out precisely. He couldn't resist taking one. The powdered sugar was on his fingers and his tongue flicked out without thinking to taste it. Turning, I took his hand, capturing the sweetness with my tongue. He stiffened, staring at me, waiting to be hit, I suppose.
Instead, I uncurled his fingers from the fist that he'd formed and kiss his palm. "Mulder?" he said, questioningly.
"I want..." I choked on the words until I hear Walter saying, "In a heartbeat." His courage was mine and I said, "Alex, I really want to try again."
Alex carried the plate across the room, cleared a space on the coffee table for it. He sat, both hands, real and artificial, dangling between his legs. His brow was furled, and his lips were a tight line. "I did what I did. Sometimes because I had to. Other times because I wanted to do it. I can't give you what you want, Mulder. He's dead. I killed him, your lover."
It took me a minute to realize he was speaking about himself. I walked over, lifted his chin, and studied his face. Age has refined him. The eyes have changed the least. They are still more like jade than eyes should possibly be, dark, variegated in their greenness. Small rays of wrinkles radiate from his eyes, certainly not laugh lines. Pain, I think, and reaction from gazing too long into the sun. His bone structure is no longer hidden by the last remnants of youth. He is like the square root of beauty, nothing but the essential left.
"Funny, I see him here." I replied. "Tell me you never loved me, Alex. Tell me that it was always a game."
His silence was his answer. I could see him struggle to get the lie out, but he couldn't do it. He stared straight ahead, waiting for me to flay him and rub salt in the wounds. I knelt, took his hands in mine, and the kettle whistled madly.
After a moment, Alex stated, "It will boil dry, Mulder."
"Damn," I remarked. "I have to do something about my timing."
That gained me a flickering smile. I quickly heated the cups, trying anxiously to get it exactly the way he liked. I carefully set the tray down in front of him, watching the wisps of steam creep up. He picked up the cup, drank, and said, "It's good, Mulder."
His voice always affected me. It feels like someone brushed over my naked cock with a velvet cloth. Even when I hated him, I wanted him. I poured myself a cup just to have something to do. My hand was shaking, ridiculous, but it was. The dark amber fluid sloshed in the Wedgwood cup.
Leaning forward, he put down his tea to steady my hand. "Are you all right? They said that you weren't sick any longer."
His hand was warm on mine. I put the cup down, slid my fingers upward along his arm until it gravitated to his chest. I whispered, "Take your tie off, Agent Krycek. Get comfortable.
Alex hesitated so long that I feared he would not do it and still meant to leave. Finally he arched his neck and said, "Get the knot for me."
My knee knocked into the table, nearly spilling the tea. I frowned at my clumsiness and hurried to unbind him. The ends were in my hands and we were so close. He stared at me with his mesmerizing eyes. "May I kiss you?" I asked as I drew the silk of the tie from the silk of his flesh.
His right hand drew me near. His lips were softly open. He waited for me to close the distance and I did. I felt his sharp intake of breath when our lips met. His mouth was sweet from chocolate and sugar. His eyelashes brushed my face. They were wet. I could feel his tears on my face. I held him until he finally moved back.
"I want you to make love to me, Mulder." He stated.
Yes, it's what I wanted also. I unbuttoned his shirt and undid his trousers. All I was wearing was a tee shirt and a pair of loose fitting sweats. It took but a moment before I'm naked too. Our hands explored each other, as we both breathed faster until we were both near to gasping.
I backed off a little and said, "Scully and Skinner cleaned my bedroom. They thought that I should sleep in a real bed."
Somehow I thought he knew that I hadn't ever slept in that bed since he left. The waterbed has been exchanged for a comfortable, king-sized model that takes up almost the whole room. He held his hand out to me and I pulled him to his feet, bringing him to clasp against me. He fit me. So many scars on us now and we were both older, but the years fell away and with them, the pain.
It was with simple joy that we walked to that bed. I drew back the covers and we tumbled together. There's nothing to say about his arm. It's gone. I knew how he felt. Losing Alex was like having my soul amputated. Even my hatred could not cauterize the bleeding wound of my loss. But now, my world narrowed to his skin, his eyes, his mouth, and the urgent happy sounds he made as I devoured him. His pupils darkened to fill his eyes. He was lost in a sensual dream, with me, yet also deeply lost in his pleasure.
His legs surrounded my waist without warning. He guided my hand lower, looking at me through the shadows of his lashes. I groaned, concentrating on holding back enough to give him his desire. He was tight, accepting me, even hurrying me as I gently prepared him, but it had been a while. I didn't know what that meant at first.
"Since Hong Kong, Mulder, only you... no other men. Even when they said it didn't matter about my arm and told me I was beautiful. After you, how could there be another?" Alex told me.
We were joined. My hands explored where our bodies connected. So wonderful. How could I have forgotten this? I wanted it slow. I wanted it fast. Mostly I wished we could stay like this, pleasure so intense that it hovered on the edge of pain. We rocked together. Even beneath me, he set the rhythm. I leaned down to kiss him and he threw his arm around my neck. We kissed until the building pressure drove our mouths apart. He takes me away from myself as no one else could ever do. Moaning, eyes only open to slits, he was wild and beautiful as he approached release. I knew I wanted to go with him, to come together. My muscles tensed and relaxed, quicker and harder, driving into him. He gasps, but his legs clasped around me reassured me that it was still good for him. They pulled me closer and I obeyed. Then we arched and started to fall apart, but I managed to move so we ended lying side by side, a world whose boundaries were set by our joined breath.
His fingers graced my mouth, stroking my lips. I took them inside, laving them with my tongue, exploring the salt of his flesh. He moaned again and substituted his mouth, opening his lips for me to explore.
Finally, we staggered to the bathroom, both of us weary and weak legged from the intensity of our passion. We washed each other clean, stopping along the way to savor the flavor of our love. He had to lay the prosthesis aside, and he was finally truly naked to me. He allowed me to look at him, his head bowed and his eyes dark with trepidation. I gently stroked both arms, kissed his left shoulder until he moved my mouth to his neck. I suckled the tender flesh, while his hand kneaded my back like a kitten.
Both of us were hard again. We're not young anymore. Not old yet, but old enough to know we'll pay for this tomorrow. We were going to be sore and exhausted, but it didn't matter. We knew without saying that it was my turn to feel him inside me. I wanted that as badly as I wanted to penetrate him. I wanted it all, all of him.
I remembered taking him in violence and anger, in Hong Kong, in Russia. His body trembling beneath mine as I tried to forget what it felt like to love him. I had taken him like a Sabine women, a spoil of war. Yet even in my rage, he won. He, in his surrender, made me weep.
Guilt made me want him to take me like that. To rape my willingness and relish my pain. Instead, he was loving and tender. As he moved inside of me and above me, I said, "I love you. Alex, forgive me."
His stillness was an act of will. I could feel him shaking on the edge of coming, but he took a moment to gather my hand and kiss it. "Just love me. That's all the absolution either of us need."
His expression was sweet and wild as he rode me. I couldn't wait for him as my body shuddered and arched upward in paroxysms of rapture. By the time, I had subsided; he was releasing, biting his lips, his eyes closed, and his eyelashes fluttering as if in agony. I thought that I understood at last why I had to hurt him after he left. To see even a mockery of that joy.
This time, we were prepared, wash cloths to the side so that, reasonably clean, we could spoon together, content and spiraling down into a languorous doze. Finally, his breath grew heavy. He slept in my arms.
I watched over him, reluctant to close my eyes lest he disappear like some elfin treasure, too precious and rare to be held by a mere human. His eyes flickered half open and he murmured, "Mulder, my Mulder."
Smiling, I kissed him back to sleep, following him down, contentedly. He was just as mortal as me, just my lover after all.
Light falling across my face woke me. The blinds were wide open and the moon was full. He was still in my arms just where he was meant to be.
I thought about all the things we've done and all of the places we've been. I'd spent the last few years searching, not even sure what I had lost until now. I thought I needed closure and vengeance, but I was wrong.
In the end, I found no justice, only mercy. The only truth that mattered was the love we had laid aside and found again.
The light spilled over us. His hair had grown longer again and a strand fell over his forehead. I leant over to kiss his cheek. He frowned, indenting that odd little v-shaped wrinkle over his nose. His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. He was really more beautiful than ever. His lips were open, rose petal soft in color and as tender. He reached up to brush my kiss away still asleep. It was his left arm, and I winced, hoping that he doesn't wake to notice. It was okay. He didn't complete the gesture, just snuggled closer to me, seeking the reassurance of my warmth.
I watched over him and remembered. Summum Bonum, the pinnacle of good to me was lying asleep in my arms at last.
