"I know your life is empty
I can not save you...
I know that you've been damaged
—"Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward
Part I—Reaching Out
//This is sad, Danny, really sad.// Daniel Pendrell looked at the
wall rack of guitar string packs and still couldn't find the ones his
brother had asked for. //Asked for? Told you to get and knew you
would. No one even asks anymore, not when Danny is such a nice
guy.// He should ask one of the employees for help but, out of
some urge to wallow in self-pity, didn't.
//I should be doing better things with my Saturdays. The sad thing
is, I don't have any better plans.//
Danny felt uncomfortable wandering among all the jamming
musicians testing instruments and equipment. As stupid as it
might sound, he couldn't help feeling that they had fraud radar and
knew he didn't belong here. A cacophony of tunes on many
different instruments fought for dominance at occasionally ear-
splitting volume, but one caught his ear. //That sounds like Killing
Joke's "Requiem." Now there's a song you don't ever hear in
public. It's being played on a keyboard, I think. I might as well go
see. I'm not getting anything done here.//
He wandered past musicians of all kinds as he walked through the
keyboard department following the tune until... //My God, is that
Mulder playing?//
Fox lost himself in the music, feeling the sound and vibration fill
in the empty spaces. With his eyes closed his fingers moved
unerringly through the right succession of keys on the keyboard,
just a boy and his borrowed Korg. He didn't get to do this often
enough.
Three weeks of oblivion and strange, dark feelings as Mulder kept
Fox and the others submerged while he absorbed a serial killer's
mind and hunted him down. When Fox demanded a weekend of
freedom, Mulder surrendered. Fox thought that maybe Mulder
needed a break from being at the wheel, time to rest and recuperate
and expunge the remnants of serial killer from his psyche.
Fox had an excellent sense of his personal space, so he
immediately knew when someone stopped in front of him and
someone stopped beside him. The person beside him kept
creeping closer, triggering Fox's he-deserves-a-knee response, so
Fox opened his eyes and slid them over to him first.
A bit avant-garde, tall, lean, handsome, and totally arrogant
musician, probably a guitarist. While there was nothing wrong
with any of that, something about the man's body language, the
way he leaned in on Fox, spoke of a predator. <Oh, give me
strength. I don't need this shit today.>
//Fox, be careful.//
<Chill, Mulder. I handle this sort of thing all the time and take
better care of this body than you do. You deserve a break, so take
it and leave me alone. This is my weekend. You promised. You
promised...>
//All right, Fox.//
"I see you here once in a while. You're very good," the musician
said. "How old are you?"
Everyone asked that. Mulder often got taken for as much as ten
years or even younger than he was. Somehow, something about
Fox made that body seem even younger. Fox couldn't say whether
his attitude or different manner of movement made the change.
"14, 37, 5, 25. What does it matter?" Fox answered, still playing.
"Are you in a band?"
Stab of old but still sharp pain. //Fox...// [Stay out of this,
Mulder!] "No, I'm not."
"You should be."
[Yeah, I should be, but it'll never ever happen. Not when I'm like
this]
"Do you want to be?"
[And the snake said to Eve, isn't that the most beautiful apple
you've ever seen?] "Not really. I have too many other things to
do."
"You're lying." He moved in even closer, breathing on Fox's neck.
{He really needs a knee.} "I'm not interested. In anything you're
offering. Leave me alone." Fox could tell Gabe, the store
manager, about this creep and have the bastard ejected into the
street, but Fox hated involving other people.
"Make me."
"Hey, he's not interested," a new voice said. "You should leave."
{I know that guy. Who is he?}
//That's Agent Pendrell! Fox, do you have any idea how—//
{I'll handle it! I have as much reason to want our secret to stay
secret as you do! Damn, this day is going to hell.}
"Is this your boyfriend, dear?"
"Never seen him before in my life. He just has a better idea of
what's going on than you do." {Don't push me...}
The creep moved in even closer. Fox spun and thrust his knee up
into the man's groin. When he crumpled forward, Fox drove his
elbows into the would-be predator's back, forcing the knee in
further. The man crumpled to the floor, gasping and making tiny,
high-pitched noises of agony.
"In case you haven't figured it out yet, 'no' means 'no,' you stupid
son of a bitch. You're not listening. That figures." One of Gabe's
salesmen came by and stared. "Could you clean this trash off the
floor? Someone might trip over him." Fox turned to Pendrell. "Hi.
Thanks for trying to help." {He has the nicest blue eyes. Nicer
than Scully's. Why didn't you tell me about this, Mulder?}
//What?//
"It looks like you didn't need it."
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"I'm sorry. You just look like someone I know. But you're not
him."
[See, Mulder? A different attitude, posture, and accent do make a
difference.]
//We'll see how much it makes when he sees me again.//
Fox held out his hand. "I'm—" {Oh, damn, I can't say "Fox," not
and keep up the charade.} "—Michael." Fox smiled. "Like the
archangel. Not 'Mike'. Michael... Ganz."
//Ganz? Our music appreciation teacher? What are you doing,
Fox? Say thank you and leave.//
Pendrell took Fox's hand and shook it. "I'm Daniel Pendrell, but
you can call me 'Danny' if you like."
"I really do appreciate you stepping in. Let me buy you dinner."
"Oh, I can't—"
"Please. No one does anything nice for anyone else anymore. I
want to encourage any random acts of niceness I see."
//What the hell are you doing? Please don't seduce him, Fox; I
have to work with him occasionally.//
{Oh, shut up.}
"I came here for a reason. I still have to get something, and I can't
find it."
"Maybe I can help." When Pendrell showed him the notepaper he
had the strings' name written on, Fox said, "Oh, sure, I know where
those are. This'll be easy."
As Danny sat across the table from Michael he wondered how
someone who looked so much like Mulder could be so different.
Mulder surely never wore all black clothing like it made a political
and style statement at once. The fading sunlight streaming
through the window sometimes reflected off the silver ankh
Michael wore around his neck. He glowed with life and seemed to
be in constant motion; even at rest his long fingers traced patterns
on the table. He was almost ludicrously sensual. The slight New
England accent occasionally grated on Danny's nerves, but the
invariably warm tone of the words made up for the nasal "a"s when
they came.
Perhaps the biggest difference rested in the attitude. Danny knew
that Mulder found his obvious crush on Dana Scully to be a
constant source of amusement. The contempt the older man felt
for him hurt. Michael seemed to enjoy his company and listened
intently to every word he said.
Michael's bright green eyes took in everything with such pleasure
and intensity that Danny got the impression that the other—
younger?—man would probably be able to remember what color
every object in the diner had been after they left.
Michael had coaxed him into talking about work. Danny avoided
details of any actual cases but mentioned some of the procedures
he did and materials he used. Michael followed it all incredibly
well.
//What, he's attractive, so he has to be an airhead? Oh, God, I
think he's attractive?//
Eventually Michael got him talking about Scully. "So what's
stopping you from saying how you feel?" Michael asked.
"My tongue grows to five times its normal size, and I trip over it. I
bet you're never at a loss for words in that situation."
"You're right but there's a terrible reason why. When you talk
about her, you glow, Danny. I've never felt that way about
anyone. It's easier to talk when it doesn't matter what effect your
words will create."
Michael looked so sad that Danny put his hand over Michael's,
stilling it, and squeezed gently. //Why did I do that?// But then
Michael smiled the same way he did when he said he'd been
named after the archangel, and Danny stopped breathing. //That's
why.//
The waitress arrived with Michael's hot fudge sundae, stopping
Danny from saying the idiotic thing that almost left his lips. When
she set it down in front of Michael, his eyes gleamed in
anticipation, but he said, "I'll never be able to finish this alone.
Want some?"
//This is seeming more like a first date by the moment.// "I
shouldn't."
"Why not? When you're 95 years old, toothless, cranky, and
wearing a diaper, you'll wish you enjoyed yourself more when you
were younger. Besides, chocolate has mood-altering chemicals to
make you feel better. It's a scientific fact."
"Who am I to argue with science? Give me a spoon."
As Michael handed him a spoon, he said, "The true appreciation of
a hot fudge sundae is an art. You have to carefully modulate how
much of the hot you get with the cold, how much creamy smooth
vanilla ice cream you take with the biting kick of the fudge. The
whipped topping is just a distraction."
Danny asked, "Who gets the cherry?" even as he cringed at how
suggestive it sounded. The gleaming bright red fruit in question
sat atop the sundae's peak.
Michael's vibrant dragon green eyes gleamed with mischief. "We
save it for last and spoon duel for it."
To Danny's surprise, Michael stayed with his art and restrained
himself from devouring the fudge first. It seemed out of character
from Danny's conception of him. Michael also left plenty of fudge
for his sundae companion, who found himself appreciating it more
when he kept a careful balance of elements instead of just gobbling
down whatever sat closest to his spoon.
Finally only the maraschino cherry remained, glowing bright neon
from the bottom of the dish. It made Danny feel weak in the knees
to watch Michael suck the last of his ice cream from his spoon,
leaving it a gleaming silver. He twirled it twice to reposition it in
his fingers then readied it at the edge of the dish.
"I'm ready when you are," Danny said.
Michael grinned. "Go!"
Their spoons hit each other and the dish with a loud clicking noise
and pushed the cherry around. It reminded Danny of hockey, just
on a much smaller scale, as they chased their quarry and blocked
one another with the clashing of their silverware.
"I heard something about maraschino cherries once," Michael said,
although his gaze never wavered and his spoon never slowed.
"Third-hand, so I don't know how accurate it is, but it's something
to think about. This one guy buried a maraschino cherry in his
backyard and put a marker on it so he'd know where he put it. For
an experiment he let it sit down there for two years then dug it up."
His grin became more predatory. "When he opened up the grave
the cherry looked exactly the same as it did when he buried it!"
Danny snorted but said, "You are not distracting me."
Finally Michael's spoon pinned his against the side of the dish, and
nothing Danny did could get it free. He rattled it helplessly and
put all the power of his arm behind it but remained trapped. Just
when he stopped struggling, Michael's spoon flew backwards to
scoop up the cherry.
"To the victor goes the spoils." He picked it up by the stem and let
it dangle over his mouth. His pink tongue darted out to lick a last
bit of fudge off it, making Danny squirm, then he devoured it in
delicate yet savage bites like a cat.
//Completely unsocialized. Has to be. People just don't do that...
Either that or it's an attempt at seduction. No, I don't think so.//
"Y'know, I always wanted to be able to tie a cherry stem into a
bow with my tongue like that chick on Twin Peaks, but I still
can't do it." He didn't sound sultry, just intrigued and a little
disappointed.
//Thank God. I don't know if I could take it.//
As they walked to Danny's apartment, or Danny walked and
Michael bounced, they sang Killing Joke's "Age of Greed" softly.
Danny sang, "Power over people—"
"Yes, yes!" Michael sang and pogoed.
"Power over people—"
"Be the privileged few," they sang together, "to have to own to
hold..."
When Danny unlocked the door and turned on the light, he
nervously awaited Michael's verdict. What would someone who
had Michael's barely controlled chaos think of this overly neat
room? //Why does it matter?//
Michael looked around and said, "It makes sense for a lab tech to
be neat. With all the toxic and dangerous things you deal with, it's
only smart to know where everything is. There's just enough
clutter here to save it from being frightening. Hey, who's this?"
Danny's giant orange tabby wound around his legs. Like a cat
himself, Michael gracefully flowed to the floor to be face to face
with the cat.
//I never thought about how bad this sounds...// "Mr. Whiskers,"
Danny said as quietly as possible, ready to die. "It was the family
cat. I swear I had nothing to do with the name. I was about 12 at
the time."
Greatly trusting, Michael let Mr. Whiskers sniff his face. "It's not
so bad. I mean, he has whiskers, and he's a mister, right?"
Danny felt his head start to pound. "Actually, he's a she."
But Michael laughed with delight. "I love it. Always leave 'em
guessing, eh, love? And it almost rhymes. Do you know that
some scientists believe that cats only meow at human beings?
Among themselves they use mostly body language and other
sounds. Maybe 'meow' means 'hey, you!' in Cat."
Danny tried not to watch Michael sinuously sliding around on the
carpet to play with the cat, tried not to notice the way those long
fingers scratched and stroked Mr. Whiskers into a purring fit. "But
that sounds so rude," Danny said faintly.
"That's where the body language comes in. The cat meows 'Hey,
you!' then says with its body, 'Can't you see that I'm starving?
Don't I give you all the affection you could ever want? Feed me
and I'll be forever grateful,' or 'Watch the way I move, all sleek
grace. Wouldn't I feel good under your fingertips? Please touch
me.'''
"I—have to go to the kitchen. Right now. Do you want some
coffee?"
"If you have tea, that would be nice."
"Right." //I'm not fleeing the room.//
Fox picked up the cat and sat down. <Hey, Mulder, come out and
meet Mr. Whiskers.>
When Mulder took over the petting, Mr. Whiskers briefly stopped
purring then started again. //She knows the difference. You are
trying to seduce him.//
<Am not! And why do you have to be such an asshole to him?
He's sweet and kind and gentle. I like the way he blushes and the
way his eyes turn slightly green and dilate to something darker
when he looks at me.>
//He's a —//
<What, a nerd? You do remember how you dressed while we
were in high school, right? How about the fact that we were all
arms, legs, and nose until our late teens?>
//Fox, are you going soft on him?//
//Fox, this is dangerous.//
<And your thing with Krycek wasn't?>
//I was stupid.//
Oh, mistake. <No, Mulder, you weren't. You like him, he's
attractive, it's not unusual—>
//I let him lead me around by my—//
<You were happy for a while. Why spoil it?>
[Because it was a stupid thing for Mulder to do, just like what
you're doing now is stupid,] William said. [You're even naming
yourself now? Who the hell do you think you are? Do you
think a new name will make you a different person?]
[Isn't that who we are in a nutshell? Stay out of this, William.
Are we supposed to be bitter and cold like you?]
[You'd be a damned sight safer.]
<We'd be dead inside!>
//He's right, Fox.//
<Damned straight. You're happy now, but it's all based on lies.
How do you think he'd look at you if he knew the truth?>
Danny stood in the kitchen and tried to regain his courage and
common sense. //I'm not attracted to men. Why do I want to touch
him so badly? I don't understand it all.// He couldn't even say that
Michael had any feminine traits. Being so intensely sensuous didn't
make him any less masculine.
Watching Michael made him more aware of his own body too,
made him want to rediscover the world with all his senses. He
wanted to touch— The feeling unsettled him.
Danny fled those thoughts but headed straight into other
unpleasant ones. Michael reminded him of his high school days
when he hung with the freaks to save himself from being labeled a
geek. Better to be misunderstood and maybe feared a little than
despised. Danny never did anything extreme to his hair or pierced
anything, but he listened to obscure bands and dressed in funereal
black while still keeping his grades up and involving himself in the
occasional resume-building extracurricular activity. Stealth honors
student. He avoided the depressed and unstable freaks in favor of
the happier ones like Michael and had some wild times.
In his last semester of senior year he cleaned up and chased the
college of his choice at full throttle. His parents embraced him like
the prodigal son, while his friends seemed to be mortally wounded.
The things he'd played at had been their life's philosophy, and they
couldn't help seeing his defection and refusal to commit as a
betrayal of all they were.
For years Danny had felt some satisfaction in the thought that no
one he worked with really knew him, that underneath the bland,
nerd exterior lay something that would shock people. But now he
realized that he had settled into full-on geekdom years ago without
really being aware of it, a gradual sloughing off of all his rough
spots and wildness until he had become what he appeared to be. It
made Daniel sad to see that, but Michael, who had stayed true to
the darker, harder path, showed him by example the perils of not
buckling down to become another cog in the machine.
Michael had been reticent about discussing his home life and
refused to reveal his address. He didn't sound at all eager to return
home later. At first Danny had thought that he might be homeless
or passing from friend to friend, but Michael looked too well cared
for. That led to his next thought, that Michael might be a hustler,
using sex to pay his way. It would explain so much. He couldn't
see Michael living with two older brothers as he claimed.
But Danny didn't want to think that. It sounded so tawdry. Even
with all his flirting, Michael seemed too innocent for sex for
money. //It would explain why he's here with me though... No, I
don't want to think about it.// In any case, he'd never heard of a
hustler who bought his john dinner and then expected to be paid
for sex.
//You can't hide out in the kitchen all night. Get out there.//
Danny put all the tea things on a tray and walked out to find a
more subdued Michael holding and stroking Mr. Whiskers.
Depressed, he resembled Mulder more. //What happened?//
"Michael, you don't have to stay."
Michael rose from whatever inner depths he'd plunged and said, "I
want to."
Danny sat near him and put the tray on the nearby coffee table. "What would
you be doing now if you weren't here?"
"I don't know. I couldn't stay in the apartment; I just leave my
stuff there. I've read all the books, and I don't want to watch TV
again. I would probably go out and find either a club or a place
where I could play pool. One of my brothers taught me how to
play when I was a kid."
"That sounds nice." Danny had such a homey picture in his mind.
Two brothers in the den, bent over a pool table... //Not like that! I
guess I have more of a perverted side than I realized.//
He refined the image until it fit a more family-oriented template.
A younger Michael, pool cue in his hands, leaning over the table as
an older Michael—since Danny had no idea what the brother
looked like—stood behind him, guiding the shot, adjusting his grip,
whispering pointers. //Better.//
"I didn't want to listen at first," Michael said as he stroked the cat.
He sounded distant. "I was scared and distracted. Being locked in
the basement did that to me."
//Oh, God, this really doesn't sound like what I thought it was.//
But Danny said nothing to interrupt him.
"Dad hated all of us, and sometimes he would lock us in down
there. My brother... Marty always kept watch over us, let us sleep
through it, suffered through it alone to keep us safe. I couldn't
handle the basement because I don't seem to perceive time as
something that passes. It's all just one eternal present for me.
Sometimes we would be down there for hours, and I wouldn't be
able to sleep anymore because I was impatient and worried for...
for Marty.
"He knew I couldn't take it without something to keep my mind
occupied so he found the family's old, worn-out pool table, one
cracked pool cue, and six balls so he could teach me. He was so
patient with me. It made things easier.
//Oh, Michael...//
"He can be such an asshole sometimes and so overprotective, but I
do love him dearly." Then Michael looked up and caught the look
on Danny's face. "Oh, shit, I shouldn't have told you that, should
I? Why the hell did I say all that? I never talk this much."
Michael stood up abruptly, and Mr. Whiskers jumped free with an
aggrieved whine. "I have to go. I don't want to bring you down."
Danny grabbed him by the arm. "You don't have to go."
Michael looked away. "If I stay I'll say something stupid I'll
regret."
"You can't say anything stupid to me." Danny pulled him in close
and, greatly daring, hugged him, remembering that touch seemed
to calm him. With their height difference, Michael seemed to fold
around Danny like a warm blanket or a protective shield. Daniel
pulled him back down on the couch. //We're cuddling, aren't we?//
He stroked Michael's hair and felt him sigh with something that
sounded like contentment. When Danny kissed the soft brown
hair, he could swear it smelled like apples.
Michael looked at him with such warmth and need and trust that it
felt like basking in sunlight. Daniel didn't understand it but wanted
to accept it, grab it and never let go. No one had ever looked at
him like that or made him feel like this before.
"Why are you here?" //That was coherent.//
But Michael seemed to understand and said, "Because I like you,"
against his neck.
"I'm so plain, so boring."
"I bet you have one hell of an interior life. It's always the quiet
ones you have to watch."
Danny snorted. "Not really."
"Daniel, you have about five shades of color in your hair. Ginger,
copper, auburn, honey, and wheat. You have the bluest eyes I've
ever been this close to, though they turn a little green when you're
looking at something you like, and that's nice too. I wish I had
pale skin like yours. And I love watching you blush like that."
"This whole blushing thing is why you wouldn't want to have skin
like mine."
Michael kissed his cheek. "Your skin gets warmer when you do
that."
"Michael—"
"I want you so badly, Danny."
Michael's eyes looked like dark whirlpools of need, and it felt so
good to be wanted like that. Danny stroked a high cheekbone, and
the sound Michael made went straight to his groin. Daniel moaned
at the feel of hot, nibbling kisses traveling down his neck.
It baffled him that this graceful, elegant, epicene creature wanted
anything to do with him. He waited for the other man to pull back
and say that he had been joking, to say what a fool Daniel had been
for believing for a second that anyone could want him like this. He
kept on waiting. In the meantime, Michael's hands fluttered along
his ribcage, stroking through the cotton.
"Michael," Danny gasped.
"Anything you want, anything I can do, is yours. I want to make
you happy."
"I am happy." //Now.//
"Then I want to make you happier."
Hands that played a keyboard and handled a spoon so deftly
proved just as adept at scorching Danny's nerves. When they
moved over his groin he almost jumped forward. As Michael slid
down Danny's chest, he used his hot breath to taunt the nipples
through the T-shirt. Daniel felt his mind dissolve.
Then Michael's head snapped back and away like something out of
The Exorcist. His whole body stiffened, and he looked up with
eyes gone black and a foreign expression on his face. "Are you
sure you want this, boy?" he asked in a deeper voice as cold as
liquid nitrogen.
"Oh shit!" //What the hell was that? Michael, are you okay?//
Daniel leapt back and watched Michael shake his head violently.
"Damn you!" Michael muttered to himself as he twitched. "You
said you'd abide by the promise. You promised, you son of a
bitch! Down!" Then he looked at Daniel. "Oh shit. You saw that.
You saw him. Oh, God."
Daniel felt torn between the desire to hold him close and back as
far away as possible. Michael took advantage of his hesitation to
run for the door. The wrong door, it turned out. Not long after the
bathroom door closed with a slam Danny heard a series of
frightening thumps.
He raced over and ripped the door open to see Michael kneeling on
the floor, striking his head against the wall. "Stop that now!"
Danny grabbed him by the arms and sat him down in the corner,
then crouched down next to him. "Talk to me!" //Oh, God, he's
hyperventilating.//
"I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'm so sorry—"
"Michael, I won't hurt you. What was that?"
Green eyes shimmered with tears he refused to shed. "I might as
well. William made sure that I wouldn't have a choice."
"William?"
"On the couch. He's one of us. I'm— I'm a multiple, Danny. I
don't live with my brothers as other people would see it. They're
all inside our head. I'm not even... not even the primary
personality. The primary is taking the weekend off. He's the one
who taught me how to shoot pool. William, a different one,
doesn't approve of me getting together with you, so he sabotaged
it."
"Why?"
"Because... because I actually care about you."
Daniel needed a moment to digest. "So that's why you wouldn't
tell me your address."
"Yes."
"Or phone number."
"Yes."
"And that's why you're not in a band even though you're such an
incredible musician."
"Do you really think I am?"
"Yes. Is... William coming back?"
"No, I sent him so far down he's won't be able to claw his way up
again for a while."
"Then it doesn't matter." Danny sat down beside him and put an
arm around his shoulder.
Michael's eyes shone in an entirely different way. "It doesn't—"
"It doesn't matter."
Michael sighed and leaned his head against Daniel's shoulder.
"That's— Thank you, Danny. You don't know what this means to
me."
//He wasn't going to tell me... Oh, get real, Danny. Like you
would go around announcing it to everyone you met, especially
people you were interested in. And watch them back away. Poor
kid.
//So this could be Mulder. Wouldn't that be a kick... No,
Michael's much too young.//
He could feel Michael's heart pound. As Michael's hair brushed
his lips, Danny sternly told his groin to settle down. It wasn't like
he'd never dealt with sexual frustration before. Then a thought
struck him that he wished never came up. //Oh, God, that's too
awful.//
"You can stay if you want. You don't have to do anything. I could
just hold you if you want." //And my cock can learn a lesson in
self-control. Not that I blame it for being upset since this is the
most action it's gotten in a year.//
Michael looked a bit confused. "That's so good of you, Danny, but
I do like sex. A lot."
//That would be consistent with one of the two routes my college
psych class said sexual abuse victims take. I hope I'm wrong.// "If
we did something right now would it be because you really wanted
me or you just wanted to get over your scare? We can be
affectionate without sex."
"Really? I do want you, but right now—"
"Right."
"You really like me?"
"Yes. And I have to tell you that I've never really been interested
in men before."
"Never?"
"Bisexuality was big in my crowd, but I never got past the kissing
and petting stage. Just curiosity. Though I think something
happened one night when I was tripping. I can't be sure; I just
remember being the ocean and having stars falling and dancing
into me."
Michael laughed and whispered against his neck, "It's not usually
like that. At least, not when I do it." Then he sighed. I'm so
tired..."
//I don't blame you. It looks like you had to put up some fight.//
"You don't have to go home. You can sleep in my bed. I'll take
the couch."
"Oh, no, I couldn't do that. Stay with me, Danny?" Michael turned
such a look of entreaty at him that Danny grinned a little, with
Michael following as he realized that he'd won.
"Okay." //Down, boy! This isn't a promise that something's going
to happen. Nor should it be.//
They pulled one another off the bathroom floor, and Danny led
him to the bedroom. //He's so much taller than me but I feel like
I'm the bigger one.// Then Daniel turned the light on and winced.
//Oh, Danny, you really aren't ready for guests. Yes, that's me, the
grown man with the stuffed animal on his bed.//
Michael smiled at the neatly-made bed and its shabby-looking
resident. "Does this one have a name too?"
Mortified, hand over his eyes, Danny muttered, "Mr. Tuggles."
Michael took a flying leap and bounced to a halt on the bed before
scooping Mr. Tuggles up and resting the old stuffed dog against his
cheek. Once Danny peeked through his fingers, he could see that
Michael looked both cute and disturbingly sexy with the once
plush animal hugged against him.
"But you swear you didn't name the cat."
"No."
"Formal family, you had. No wonder no one at work knows your
first name." He stroked its matted skin then placed it on a nearby
table with its single eye to the wall. "Much as I love him, I just
can't have him watching me sleep."
//No one at work knows my— How does he know that? Wait a
minute, he's not going to say anything sarcastic?// "Love him?"
"I'm sorry, but he's the only touch of character in this whole room.
I don't have any childhood toys I got to keep." Michael suddenly
smiled. "He's obviously been loved."
//Maybe I should use this as a test from now on. "Sure I want you,
but will you pass the Mr. Tuggles test?" Like I'm beating them off
with a stick. Oh, bad choice of phrasing...// Daniel felt the tight
knot in his chest uncoil. "But he could hear you." //Oh, that's
smart, give a mentally disturbed kid a whole new thing to get
paranoid about.//
"He only has one ear."
"He only has one eye."
"Do you like having that button eye follow your every move?"
"But it doesn't— You have a phobia about stuffed animals
watching you but don't mind them listening? Oh, never mind.
Whatever makes you happy."
"Thanks." Michael grinned. "And you do."
"Do what?"
"Make me happy."
//Oh, wow...// "Thanks," Danny said through the lump in his
throat.
He toed off his sneakers but had to stop Michael from removing
his Docs when his guest almost hit the floor headfirst in the effort.
"You're too tired. Let me do that." Michael raised an eyebrow but
surrendered his feet.
As Danny unwound the laces from around the top of the first boot
and started to loosen them from the eyelets, he used the repetitive
task to cool himself down a little. He removed the boots with the
concentration and attitude he would use for a puzzle and made
himself forget the legs encased in them. He peeled the Docs back
and gently pulled them off one at a time.
As the second one came off, Michael shrieked. Danny asked,
worried, "What was that?"
Michael looked sheepish. "I'm ticklish."
Danny grinned. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. //After what
he's just been through you're going to torture him? But it would
make him laugh...// He couldn't resist. He commenced tickling.
"You son of a bitch!" Michael gasped, giggling. He grabbed
Danny by the shoulder and hauled him up onto the bed, then
started to tickle back.
"Stop!"
"You started it!"
//Notes to self: [1] stop forgetting how strong he is and [2] don't
start tickling when you're ticklish because it'll give them ideas...//
They rolled on the bed until Michael shrieked. "What?" Danny
asked.
"My keys are in my back pocket, you nut! I'm going to have a
bruise the size of a golf ball on my ass thanks to you." Michael
took the keyring out and put it on the night table.
"Okay, I'm stopping. I'm a danger to myself and others."
"Thank you."
They lay back gasping, and Michael weakly shrugged his jacket
off.
"You'll be okay?" Danny asked.
"Sure. I just need a little rest. I'm like a Weeble."
Danny got a sudden image of Michael being knocked around but
refusing to fall. It made him feel sad and proud of Michael at the
same time. He pulled the covers back and then up around them.
"Sweet dreams, Michael." He turned out the light.
Michael burrowed into his side and fell asleep.
Part II— Contact
"I've been so alone for long
The nuzzling at his neck and weight draped on him at first made
Daniel think that Mr. Whiskers was getting affectionate with him.
"Not now, Wik," he muttered, half-asleep.
"When, then? And what did you call me?"
Definitely not the cat, although the green eyes that regarded Danny
quizzically at close range had some feline qualities. "Michael,
what are you doing?" //Brilliant question #103. He's sort of
straddling you, Danny. Oh, God, he is, isn't he?//
"I couldn't sleep anymore. I don't need much really." He slid
further up Danny's body, making his captive moan. "I'm trying to
figure you out."
"Oh?" Daniel choked out.
"I can tell that you want me, but you keep holding back. That's
pretty rare, y'know. You're shy?" he asked as he nibbled at the ear
closest to him.
"Uh, yeah." //But getting less so all the time...// "I don't want to
take advantage of you."
"Silly," Michael breathed into his ear. "I want to be taken
advantage of." His hands roamed until they reached Danny's fly
and started to undo it.
//I give up. Be gentle with me. Or don't be; that might be even
better...//
Talented fingers brushed lightly over Daniel's groin as they pulled
down his jeans and finally his boxers, making him whimper, "Oh,
God." He shuddered as a hot tongue flicked at the weeping head of
his cock, toying with it. "Please," he gasped.
Michael took him all the way in and started to suck him, humming
the whole time. Daniel exploded almost immediately, desperately
trying to control himself but unable to, not after being in a state of
at least semi-arousal all night. The intense feeling of release was
almost painful in its pleasure.
Michael controlled Daniel's thrusts and swallowed it all with no
sign of strain or discomfort. Michael gave one last caressing lick
to the now limp flesh then climbed back up and returned to his
former diversion of lewdly tonguing Daniel's ear.
Daniel gasped, "That was... incredible, but I don't know what you
got out of it." To his shock he could feel himself already getting
hard again. //Does he give off pheromones or something?//
"I like to see people enjoy themselves. Besides, you needed it so
badly that you wouldn't last long if I didn't take the edge off. Now
I can play with you. Sit up."
//That sounded a bit ominous. So why does it only make me feel
more excited?// "Yes, sir." He complied and felt Michael doing
the same.
"Take my shirt off. Don't be afraid to touch me; that's what I
want."
Feeling self-conscious and clumsy, Danny had to keep slowing
down so he wouldn't rip the shirt off out of nervousness. The feel
of the lean muscle under his hands only added to his anxiety. He
knew he had a bit of a belly; his job mostly consisted of sitting on
his ass all the time. //He's beautiful. Why the hell would he want
to keep touching me?//
Suddenly Michael swooped in for a nipping kiss. "You're not
going to your death here, Danny. This is supposed to be enjoyable.
Let me show you." He took off his T-shirt in one clean pull over
his head then set to work on Danny's.
Genetics had given Michael the ideal keyboardist's hands with
long, deft, flexible fingers. The tips had been slightly flattened
from years of banging the keys. They trailed over Danny's
shivering flesh as they slowly removed his shirt, sometimes
stroking, sometimes pressing.
When Michael got it off him and pulled him close, the warmth and
feel of bare skin to bare skin made Danny's breathing quicken.
Sometimes the rough denim of Michael's jeans brushed his
stomach or cock, making him moan. He let his hands slide down
Michael's spine to the small of his back and finally under the
waistband of the loosened jeans and boxers to the curve of the firm
ass hiding under them.
Michael arched into him and groaned, "That's more like it. Are
you starting to enjoy yourself yet?"
"I'm getting there. I want to get your pants off."
"Do it then."
Daniel pushed Michael back onto the bed and, remembering
Michael's earlier example, stroked and teased as he removed the
jeans and underwear, freeing an insistent erection. The sight
caused another jolt of anxiety, but the body writhing under his
hands and the desperate sounds of enjoyment that body made kept
distracting him.
"What do I do now?"
Michael sat up, took the fingers of Danny's left hand into his
mouth one by one, and licked, sucked, and nibbled at them until
Danny thought he would come again from that alone. "Do you
trust me?" Michael asked in a sultry whisper.
//I do when you're you and not the frightening creature I saw on
my couch... Oh, hell, this is not the time to change my mind.//
"Yes."
"Then let me guide you." Michael took Danny's hand by the wrist
and brought it to his ass, letting it slide down the crack before it
stopped at a hotter spot. Then, after taking some time to move the
fingers into a more agreeable position, Michael thrust them up
through the ring of muscle and grunted in what might have been
pain. But when he moved them around a little more he started to
moan in what, from the look on his face, could only be extreme
pleasure.
//Oh, God, am I doing what I think I'm doing? He's so tight I
think my fingers will break...//
As Michael established a fucking motion with Danny's hand, he
rubbed his erection and the rest of his body against Danny's in
time. They gasped against one another. "Oh, yes, yeeeessss,"
Michael hissed. "I needed this. Don't worry...Danny, I
haven't...forgotten you. As if I could."
As Michael's cries reached a fever pitch, he abruptly removed the
hand from its hot, snug home and pushed Danny back onto the bed.
Then he impaled himself on Daniel's painfully erect cock and
started to slide up and down on it.
The muscle contractions that Daniel had feared would crush his
fingers now squeezed and milked his cock. He vaguely knew that
he bucked wildly from the sensations. Once he felt Daniel start to
thrust, Michael stopped sliding and started to rock. While doing
that he grabbed the base of Danny's cock, gripping and then
releasing to control the progress of the oncoming orgasm.
All thought fled as lightning coursed through Danny's body, all
centered in his cock. The moment fractured into sharp-edged
sense impressions. The impending explosion that Michael delayed
and delayed and delayed... The heat that engulfed him. The glint
of the streetlight off the ankh that swayed back and forth,
seemingly in slow motion, against Michael's heaving chest. The
incoherent sounds they both made. The certainty that he would die
if Michael didn't let him come now. He grabbed Michael's cock
in what might have been self-defense.
Finally Michael took pity and let him go. He screamed and thrust
savagely. Michael's internal muscles contracted a final time, and
he came. Breathing hard, he collapsed and snuggled in close,
lapping at Danny's hand. They passed out.
Danny woke up alone and would have been convinced that he had
dreamed everything if he hadn't heard someone singing and
banging around in the kitchen and hadn't found himself in the
middle of a normally neat bed that looked like it had been torn
apart. And if he hadn't woken up feeling sticky but also so
satisfied and happy that it felt like his whole body was grinning.
//Oh my God, it really happened, and it was so...so...// Words
failed him completely.
He sat up and saw that Michael had already left his mark in a way.
Daniel's clothing from yesterday lay strewn across the floor, and
Mr. Tuggles still faced the wall. //Too bad, Tug, you really missed
something.
//This isn't my bedroom. This isn't my body. This isn't my life.
But who's complaining?//
Daniel took a shower, got dressed, and walked out to the kitchen,
half-expecting an awkward morning after. Instead he got a big
grin from a freshly showered Michael wearing yesterday's clothes
who sang Sisters of Mercy songs as he set the table for two.
"...Seen the way that careful lingers/Undecided at the door/And all
I know for sure/All I know for real/Is knowing doesn't mean so
much/When placed against the feeling/The heat inside/When
bodies meet/When fingers touch/All my words are secondhand
and/Useless in the face of this..."
Danny recognized "Some Kind of Stranger" and approved even as
he appreciated Michael's excellent approximation of Andrew
Eldritch's voice. He grinned. Michael's smile could power a
whole town.
"This is great," Danny said.
"I don't ever get a chance to cook. Marty never buys groceries. I
used to make breakfast for Dad the mornings after— How do you
like your eggs?"
Daniel sensed that this question had a greater importance than the
surface suggested. Remembering that Michael's Dad had
traumatized his son so badly that Michael had splintered into at
least three personalities, Danny hesitated as long as he could, then
said, "Sunny side-up."
Michael breathed again. "Oh, good. Dad liked them scrambled. I
like them sunny side-up too."
Danny breathed out in relief with him. //He's a lunatic... Oh, shut
your mouth. He's beautiful, he just gave you the most incredible
night of your life, and now he's making breakfast. Do you think
the lucky stiff whose life you stole will want it back? Probably,
but I'm not giving this up without a fight.//
As Michael cracked the eggs against the side of the skillet, he sang,
"...Come here I think you're beautiful..."
Minutes later they sat across from one another and ate their
breakfast in companionable silence and enjoyment with Michael's
fingers tracing patterns on Danny's hand. "So, who's Wik?"
Michael finally asked as casually as he could.
It took Danny a minute to figure out what he meant. "Mr.
Whiskers. The cat."
"How often does your cat climb into bed and seduce you?"
Michael kept his voluptuous mouth in a stern line, but the lips kept
trembling and he couldn't look Danny in the eye. "I mean, since
you called me that last night when I started my seduction attempt."
Danny almost snorted egg up into his nose. "Uh, never, and she's
not into kinky stuff. As far as I know."
"So you have a perfectly acceptable, innocuous nickname for your
cat but instead chose to first tell me the long form that you
obviously consider to be embarrassing. Why?"
"I didn't know you very well yet."
"And that meant you didn't trust me with your cat's nickname
yet?" He snorted. "And you thought I was strange for not
wanting Mr. Tuggles to watch us?"
"So we're both strange."
"And happy?"
"Very."
"Me too." Michael ducked his head. "I have today all to myself—"
"Do you want to do something together?"
Michael grinned, polished off the last of his egg, and came over to
kiss Danny. Daniel pulled his lover down onto his lap and said,
"We'll go out somewhere." As Michael squirmed atop his crotch,
causing the most incredible sensations, he said, "Uh, later."
Michael giggled. "Promise?" He started to explore the inside of
Danny's mouth with his tongue.
//This is where it turns out I was in a horrible car accident, and I'm
dreaming all this while I'm lost in a coma. Hope I never come out
of it.//
Danny's brain dissolved as the feel of Michael's mouth and body
moving against him took up all of his attention. "Not here," he
gasped out. "This is the kitchen."
"Mmm-hmm."
"You're supposed to cook here."
"We can cook here. I think we're doing it right now," Michael
murmured into his skin.
As talented hands pulled his pants away, Danny resigned himself.
//Oh, yeah, poor me. Somebody play a violin.//
Sounding like he was talking to himself, Michael mumbled,
"Ketchup?"
At first it sounded like a total non sequitur. Then Danny
understood. "We're not using ketchup."
Big grin. "How about butter?"
"That's disgusting."
"No, you'll like it. I swear." Michael stood up and took advantage
of the opportunity to take his pants off. Danny watched avidly
what he didn't get to see in the darkness last night. Michael picked
up the tub of butter... and a butter knife. He started to smirk.
"That's where I draw the line! You're not using that on me." //I'm
not going to let myself imagine it. I didn't used to have such a
dirty mind.//
Michael applied the warm butter to Danny's cock in slow spirals,
paying special attention to the head. His fingers pressed, squeezed,
and occasionally pulled a little. "Do you like this? You're
certainly hard enough."
"Uh."
"I'll take the gasps and grunt as a yes." Michael settled himself
onto the slicked cock and started to move again.
While Danny's mind sat back in stunned, sensual overload, his
hips, knowing exactly what to do, took over, thrusting him deep
into Michael's velvet heat, which contracted and relaxed around
him over and over. Michael kissed him hungrily and whimpered
and moaned into his open mouth. Danny's thrusts rubbed his
lover's body, especially Michael's hard cock, against him. With
his last working brain cell Danny decided that he would have to do
something special to take care of Michael's erection sometime
soon, it was only fair. Remembering something Michael did last
night, Danny grabbed the cock by the base and kept a tight hold.
Michael spasmed against him and let out a loud gasp. Danny came
in a rush at the sound but didn't let go.
As they panted against one another, Michael asked, "Are you
going to do something with that?"
"I want—" He couldn't get the words out.
"What do you want?"
Danny smirked. "I want to be respected at work. I want to get
Dana Scully gagged and hog-tied at the foot of my bed. I want
you, badly. I want you to... to do me."
Michael smirked back. "Excuse me? Do what to you?"
Danny ground himself against Michael, who still had Danny's
cock held snug inside his ass. Michael moaned. Danny whispered
into his ear, "I want you to fuck me."
"Uh. Are you sure?"
"Yes. You seem to get off on it. I want to see what I'm missing.
But we're doing it on the bed."
"Whatever you say, but please let it be soon. I'm dying here."
Danny moaned a little as Michael got off of him. He led Michael
back to the bedroom and its rumpled bed. Usually Daniel would
have made it by now, but it had been an atypical morning all
around.
Michael made Danny lie on his stomach. The sheets still smelled
of last night's sex. "Don't look. I just want you to feel."
Danny felt the bed move. A hand started to caress his balls before
he felt something warm and wet sliding down the crack of his ass
until that warm, wet pressure hit a spot that made him gasp. //Oh,
my— He's tonguing me, isn't he? It's so good...// He realized that
he was shamelessly wiggling his ass to make sure that tongue
didn't miss anything.
Then a slick pressure entered him. It burned and hurt at first, but
as it started to move the pain turned to a knife-sharp pleasure. The
pressure abruptly became wider, and he moaned in encouragement.
Then wider again, and again, stretching him. He felt Michael's
fingers stroking in and out on a slow glide.
"Is this all right?"
"Hell, yes. But I want you, and I want it harder," Daniel gasped.
Daniel felt Michael settle on top of him. It excited him that
Michael was so strong and so much taller. Michael could probably
break him in half but wouldn't. While Michael's gentleness and
care seduced him, a small part of him got off on the possibility of
risk, of being helpless under Michael's power.
//That's still possible. He's not alone in there...//
Then Michael entered him in a slow, gentle stroke that hit all the
right spots. "Please," Danny moaned. Michael started to pick up
speed and actively thrust. It wasn't like anything Daniel had ever
felt before. The sensations and Michael's weight across his back
scared and exhilarated him. Michael's cock seemed to feel
abruptly bigger as he came, screaming Danny's name. Michael
finally collapsed and rolled the both of them over onto their sides.
"You were wonderful. What did you think?" Michael asked.
Daniel snuggled against him. "That was incredible. You can do
anything you want to me."
"So, what do you want to do for lunch?"
Daniel Pendrell waited for Mulder and Scully to arrive. He already
knew that he didn't look the same. Ten people had already asked
if he had a great weekend after looking at him. Five people asked
him if he got laid. The first four times he blushed and excused
himself but the fifth time he said, "Yeah, twice in the bedroom,
once in the kitchen, and once on the couch. We were like animals.
It was incredible. You don't need to know anymore." //That time
I wasn't the one who blushed and fled.//
He was nervous. Scully always made him nervous, but now he
worried about seeing Mulder too, wondering if he'd be able to
work with the other agent without seeing Michael in him and doing
something stupid.
When Mulder and Scully arrived, Pendrell felt his mind separate
into three different tracks. The LabBoy track looked at what Dana
Scully had brought him, examined it thoroughly with all the tools
at its disposal, and commented intelligently on what it could mean.
The PoorDroolingIdiot track looked at her with stunned, mindless
want as the fluorescent lights brought out sparks in her red hair
//deeper red this week; last time it looked more copper; wonder
why she keeps switching shades// and made her porcelain skin look
even paler, almost to a deathly pallor //some residue from my Goth
past that I find that attractive?//. It also desperately ran in circles
trying to figure out what it could say to make her notice him as a
man and not a faceless lab geek who didn't have a first name. It
swore that it wouldn't trip over its tongue this time. Pendrell was
accustomed to LabBoy and Idiot fighting uneasily for space.
The third, new track he didn't have a name for. It tried to
unobtrusively scrutinize Mulder. //Michael does seem to be much
younger. He has more energy. They don't move, stand, or react
the same way. But they still look so much alike, and what
literature there is on MPD suggests that the different personalities
do that... Oh, wait, the eyes aren't the same. Mulder has a deep
gray-green with gold, while Michael has a bright, vibrant emerald.
Thank God.//
Then he thought about the tracks and wondered if they were
similar to what Michael experienced. //What is it like for him?
I don't even know if I'll see him again... //
Mulder's voice brought him back. "Let me see that," he said as he
pushed Pendrell aside to look through the microscope.
//Asshole.// Mulder didn't smell the same as Michael either, more
herbal to Michael's spicy sweetness. Not bad though... //I'm
sniffing Mulder? I hope he didn't notice... This is so bad!//
"Uh, what am I looking at?"
Pendrell found it surprisingly hard to swallow a sarcastic, cutting
comment about people who barge in when they don't know what
the hell they're doing. Michael rubbing off on him. //Shut that
thought down now! I hope this turns out to be a good change.//
Pendrell put his labmouse self back on and patiently explained it.
Finally, Dana Scully said, "Thanks, Pendrell. You've been very
helpful." She scrutinized him more closely. "You look... good.
Did you have a good weekend?"
//Personal interest! Don't say something stupid, especially not
with Mulder around to pounce. Better not to make any move at all
with him standing there ready to knock you down. Stay with
simple, can't go too far wrong with something simple.// "Yes, yes,
I did. Thank you for asking."
She gave Mulder a dark look. "It seems to be going around."
Mulder squirmed a little //see how you like it, you bastard// and
followed her out.
Watching Mulder get the Scully Look cheered Pendrell, especially
when paired with what sounded like a biting comment. Any
uneasiness in Mulder&Scully Land would probably work to his
benefit.
As Mulder walked beside Scully, Fox said, [See, that wasn't so
bad. He doesn't suspect.]
//He sniffed me, Fox.// Actually, Mulder also worried about
Scully suspected something. He may not have been around for
most of the sex, but his body felt the lingering after effects of the
hormones involved, leaving him uncharacteristically buoyant. He
had come into work as Fox Mulder, their more integrated self, with
all the off-the-wall cheer that self sometimes threw off. Scully
couldn't help noticing. When they reached the lab Mulder had
been forced to come back into full control for fear of how the
sometimes unpredictable Fox Mulder gestalt might react to
Pendrell's presence.
[Man, you never know a compliment when you get one. Besides,
it seemed to settle his mind further that we're not the same
person.>
//This is really hard for me. Seeing you with him was like
watching someone corrupting a leprechaun.//
Fox laughed. [So you were around for that? Did you like it? He
was so good, and he has such certain, careful hands...]
//Uh.//
[That's okay. I don't mind you watching.>
//Fox...//
[Leprechaun, huh? He certainly fulfilled my wishes... Well, I
intend to debauch that leprechaun totally. I'm going to show him
things he didn't know existed. Oh, no...]
//Fox?//
[What if he doesn't want to see me again? It's not like I could
give anyone a normal relationship. I don't even get out much!
What if I was just a wild fling to him? What if he never wants to
see me again? Why do I feel this way?>
//I think— I think you're in love.//
[It hurts. I don't like it.>
Thoughts of Krycek passed through Mulder's mind. //I know.//
Hearing Fox's pain, he said, //Look, I'm not doing anything
outside of work lately. You can have any weekend I'm not doing
anything work-related to yourself. To spend with him, if you're
both interested.//
[Really? That's great! I wish I could hug you! I do love you,
Mulder.]
//When I'm not being an overprotective asshole?//
[You know I meant that in the best possible way.]
//Sure. You know, if you're going to spend more time with him,
you better start thinking of ways to explain our scars, especially the
bullet scars.//
[Thanks for reminding me.]
[This is the stupidest idea I've ever heard!] William said. [I forbid
it!]
// [Shut up!] //
"Mulder?"
"Don't mind me, Scully. I'm just lost in the ozone again."
Daniel sat on the couch reading, or trying to read, and idly stroking
Mr. Whiskers. //I feel like everything's changed, but no one else
can see it. I can't even contact him.//
The phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hey, Danny, are you doing anything this weekend?"
Danny started to smile.
Part III— Dancing Lessons
"Now let your mind do the walking
—"World in My Eyes" by Depeche Mode
As Daniel Pendrell opened the door to his apartment, Michael
bounced and sang softly, "...They put you in a box/And then they
send you up to heaven, heaven..."
A more obscure selection than most, but Danny recognized the
snippet as belonging to Virgin Prunes' "Baby Turns Blue." Danny
grinned even as he wished he had that much energy. "You're
bouncing so much you're giving me motion sickness."
"But I'm happy. I really liked that art exhibit."
"That's no reason to do a Tigger impression."
"But Tiggers are wonderful things. Besides, I'm your Tigger."
Michael scooped up the cat and started to dance to the music he
heard in his head. Mr. Whiskers seemed to enjoy it, especially
since Michael scratched her chin as he twirled and bounced her in
his arms.
"...Ohhhhh! What to do?/What to be and who are yoooooou..."
Danny watched him and smiled. He couldn't imagine his life
without the weekends with Michael. Michael took such a joy in
the world that Danny loved to take him places just so he could see
everything anew through his lover's enthusiasm. It challenged
Danny to come up with a new movie, theater, museum, or park
every week.
Not that staying home didn't have its advantages.
It amazed him that Michael still found him attractive... or
something... four months later. Hell, it amazed Danny that this
man had chosen him to begin with. Surely Michael—outgoing, tall,
gorgeous, and a combustible mix of angel and demon in bed—
could find another partner in seconds.
"I really did enjoy that exhibit. The statues and gilded prayer
books especially. But I could have done without the rent-a-cops
giving me the evil eye. The same thing happened when I visited
the Cloisters in New York. Like I could hide a six-foot-tall
medieval statue in my pocket. Being a Goth doesn't make me a
magician."
"It didn't help when you got ticked off about it and started to
loudly ask me how this or that would look in your den. Brat."
Michael just smirked and thrust his hips to his internal music in a
way that made Daniel want to jump him immediately. "Wanna
dance?"
"I don't know how." //And I don't want to look stupid.//
"I'll tell you a big secret. I can't dance either. In fact, only seven
people in this world can actually dance. When a new dancer is
born, one of the older ones dies."
"Oh, come on!"
"Just one of the mysteries of life. The rest of us can only move
with the music and hope for the best. Dance with me."
"I'm not sure what song is playing in your odd brain."
"I'll make it easier for you." Michael put Mr. Whiskers down and
flipped through Daniel's CDs with practiced ease, muttering under
his breath about how he loved people who alphabetized their
collection. He picked out then put back Depeche Mode's Songs
of Faith and Devotion, saying that it described their relationship,
but he wasn't in the mood for that album right now.
"You're cute as all hell, but can you just choose something
already?"
Michael smirked knowingly, making himself look so much more
like Agent Fox Mulder that Daniel caught his breath. Michael was
one personality of several sharing that body, and Danny sometimes
wondered, despite all of Michael's protests to the contrary, if the
personality that ran the body the rest of the week called itself Fox
Mulder. Danny wrestled back and forth with the idea, but
wouldn't feel too bad if it turned out that Michael had lied. If he
were Mulder and had such a problem, he wouldn't want anyone
knowing about it either, not when it would put a giant black mark
on his record and probably exclude him from jobs that came with
any real authority or responsibilities.
So when Michael merely said that the primary personality worked
in law enforcement—and that only because Danny had asked about
his scars—Daniel didn t press the issue.
Michael put Depeche Mode's Violator into the CD player and
pulled Danny into his arms. As usual, Danny felt ludicrously small
next to him. "I'm too damned short." He inhaled Michael's spicy
scent and couldn't help picking the orange cat hairs off of the black
shirt that filled his vision. "World in My Eyes" started to pound
behind him.
"No, I'm too damned tall. Want me to pick you up?"
"If you do, I'll kill you."
"Just trying to be nice. Loosen up. You can't think when you
dance; you just move to the music any way you want." Michael
started to twirl Daniel, then pulled him in close. Over the next few
minutes Michael would spin him and bring him back again and
again, leaving Danny dizzy, laughing, and moving his feet along
with the beat in self-defense.
Michael sang along with the band, and Danny, breathless, joined
him as best he could. "...All the islands in the ocean/All the
heavens in their motion/Let me show you the world in my eyes..."
Mr. Whiskers gave them a hard stare from her safe perch on the
couch. Danny couldn't help laughing. //Probably beneath her
dignity. Well, Wik, I'm not the one who drinks out of the toilet.//
Michael kept Daniel close now as they harmonized, "...That's all
there is/Nothing more than you can touch now/That's all there
is!..."
Lean muscle moved under Daniel's hands, and he melted into
Michael's warmth. The long kiss that followed only left him
feeling even more pleasantly lightheaded. Seeing no more
advantage in staying upright, Daniel tripped Michael so they fell
on the couch, to Mr. Whiskers' disgust. Once he had his victim
pinned, Daniel ravished Michael with lips and hands. He would
work his way up to the full treatment soon.
Once Michael got a chance to breathe, he grinned impishly and
protested, "But you already know this dance! I know for a fact that
you're really good at it."
"Show me again."
Part IV—Simple Gifts
Daniel Pendrell sprawled on his couch and tried to fight his
headache down. The headache kept winning. Mr. Whiskers
purred from her perch on his chest as he stroked her and she left
orange cat hair all over his suit. He would chide himself later for
not getting out of the suit first. For now, he just wanted to die.
Aside from the memory of general stupidity at work bothering
him, he also felt sad and self-pitying. He'd made a sacrifice
recently, with all the best intentions, and couldn't help feeling a
little resentful. //He didn't ask you to, and he doesn't know. This
is all you, Danny. Your choice.//
Two weekends ago he'd been lying in bed with Michael when he'd
done something selfish. He occasionally had those moments,
when he wanted something so much he stopped thinking about
whether it would be right.
Michael sometimes talked in his sleep, sometimes as himself and
sometimes in slightly different voices that suggested one of the
other personalities had control, that Danny slept next to Marty or
William instead. That freaked Danny out no end, but he dealt with
it. Sometimes you could ask Michael things when he was in that
state, and he would answer. Sometimes the answers even made
sense.
Some things Michael refused to talk about, and Danny would not
ask. //Like whether he's really Mulder or not. But I think I
already know the answer to that one...// But with his birthday
coming up, Danny's mind wouldn't stop tracking on certain
thoughts, which became full-fledged need-to-knows. Need-to-
know colored his whole life, from his relationships to his choice of
career. If he could put Michael under a microscope and tease out
his secrets, Danny would, gladly, and do so with all the love he
felt.
It would be wrong to ask now, with Michael asleep and helpless to
say no, but he couldn't help himself. "When's your birthday,
Michael?"
Michael had sighed and nuzzled in closer. "You just want to know
how old I am," he mumbled sleepily and smiled. Asleep and
relaxed, he looked even younger.
Danny traced the bullet scar on his lover's shoulder. "No, I really
want to know. I want to do something nice for it. A little party."
"I'm older than you, you know. Physically, at least. Danny—" A
non sequitur, but one that made Danny's heart guiltily leap.
Michael had let slip one of the things he'd wanted to know. In
attitude, Michael seemed younger, but sometimes... "I don' have a
birthday."
"Don't... don't have a birthday."
"Wasn' born. More... hatched."
"You don't—"
Of course Michael didn't. Michael shared one body with a few
different personalities, and he wasn't the original. Not many
people knew about this. Michael hadn't really been born.
Michael's sleeping face started to gain lines, look troubled. Some
part of him knew he'd let something out he shouldn't have. "It's
September 29th."
September 29th was Michael the Archangel's day on the calendar.
Michael had tried to cover his mistake.
In that moment, Danny decided he wouldn't make an issue of his
own birthday, not when Michael didn't have one. Michael
wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning. Danny
would let it slide.
But tonight, with his birthday tomorrow, Danny regretted it, even
if he'd had good impulses behind his decision. The Pendrell
family always made a big deal out of birthdays, with parties and
presents. Sean would be working tomorrow, and a day as an
occupational therapy assistant left his younger brother too tired to
do much of anything when he got home. Besides, Danny hadn't
brought Michael by to meet Sean yet. He didn't know why he
hadn't—he wasn't ashamed of Michael, exactly—but he hadn't
found the right time. Michael and Sean might even like each other,
since they were both musicians and even enjoyed some of the same
music. Mom and Dad had died in a car wreck three years ago, a
still-fresh wound.
So the only one who could make a fuss over Danny on his actual
birthday didn't know about it, by Danny's choice. No wonder his
head hurt.
The sound of the key turning in the lock made him wince, even as
he felt himself brighten a bit at the thought of the person using it.
Michael would make the headache go away.
Michael, loaded down with scores of shopping bags, looked
surprised to see him on the couch. "You look beat," he said as he
knelt down next to Danny.
"A bad day, topped off with a worse headache."
Michael took his hand and kissed it, to Danny's surprise. Michael
could be thoughtfulness personified, but it still shocked him when
the older man—and it was still so odd thinking of Michael that
way—made a gesture that was so caring and so perfect.
"I'm sorry. Damn, your hand is cold." Michael gently slipped
Danny's hand beneath his coat to warm it with his body heat. He
then leaned back to rest against the couch and his lover. It struck
Danny as one of the most oddly erotic things he'd ever
experienced. As the fingers of his right hand slowly uncurled
while wrapped in his lover's warmth, the other hand started to
stroke cool, still-damp hair. Michael always came to him freshly
showered, perhaps to wash off the scent and feel of the primary
personality who used the body the rest of the day.
With Wik purring on his chest and Michael doing his own version
of purring beneath his hands, Danny relaxed under the love of the
two felines who owned him. Michael rubbed his cheek against
Danny's side, furthering the cat analogy and making the younger
man smile. They sat like that for a while, just lost in sensation and
the feel of one another.
Finally, Michael opened his eyes and grinned. "This is so nice, but
I had plans for tonight."
Danny felt a pleasant shiver in his stomach. "What kind of plans?"
"Just staying in and doing something special." With obvious
regret, Michael stood up and picked up his bags. "Have you taken
anything?" He meant for the headache.
"A half hour ago. It hasn't done anything yet."
"I hope this makes you feel better. Don't go anywhere. I have to
put everything together." He dropped two of the bags off at the
kitchen before taking the other two into the bathroom with him.
The sound of running water followed, piquing Danny's curiosity.
Michael had just taken a shower, so the water had to be for him.
Danny put Mr. Whiskers on the floor and carefully got up, the bags
in the kitchen calling him. He just had his hands on a plastic
handle when he got swept back by strong arms into a tight
embrace. "It's supposed to be a surprise, Danny," the older man
said into his hair as he rocked him.
"Can't blame me for trying." Danny leaned back and stroked the
bare arms. He liked the way Michael, taller than him, could wrap
around him like a favorite quilt. One of his hands strayed down
Michael's leg until it found a hole in the old jeans and caressed
warm skin. The older man gasped and jerked.
"Later, I swear. And I guess they're right."
"About what?"
"Cold hands, warm heart. I'm almost done setting up. Can I trust
you not to get into things till then? I really want this to be a
surprise. Well, surprises. I'm almost done with the first."
Far be it from Danny to screw up something important to Michael.
"Okay, but don't take too long."
Grinning, Michael let him go and returned to the bathroom. Danny
leaned back against the wall to wait. A nerve-wracking five
minutes later, three minutes after the water had stopped running,
Michael came back out.
Danny, wrapped up in the pain of his headache with his eyes
closed, hadn't really seen him before. He wore his usual silver
ankh on a short chain, an old and faded T-shirt, tall Docs that laced
up to his knees, and faded, tight black jeans that had holes in some
interesting places. He looked delicious, and Danny felt a surge of
desire.
Danny didn't resist when Michael tied a blindfold over his eyes,
though he felt curiosity eating him alive. The older man put a hand
on his arm and carefully led him somewhere warm that smelled of
lavender and musk before taking the blindfold off. The bathroom
had been transformed. Candles cast warm, flickering light, and
bottles of mysterious oil lined the rim of a tub filled with water that
gave off the faintest scent of musk. A large bath pillow rested at
one end. Luxuriously fluffy towels waited nearby.
"You like? It's all for you," Michael said as he vibrated next to
Danny. He grinned when he saw the look on his lover's face.
"It's... wonderful. Decadent." Did Michael know, after all?
"I wanted to do something special." Michael started to slowly and
sensually undress Danny. Danny melted into the knowing touches
and grinned as his lover neatly hung the suit and shirt. //He knows
me so well...//
Michael helped him into the tub and leaned him back against the
pillow. The hot water brought a pleasant shock to Danny's skin as
the nerves sizzled to life. Steam and the scent of musk insinuated
themselves up his nostrils and into his head, clearing and soothing.
His muscles started to unkink.
"Just consider me your bath slave," Michael said as he picked up a
wet washcloth and ran it over his lover's skin.
"You're going to get all wet." Danny had a very naughty thought
of being tended to by a stark naked Michael. That and the feel of
the washcloth descending down his stomach almost brought him
off.
He grabbed Michael by the arm and pulled him in. Fortunately, it
was a very big tub. Water splashed everywhere. Michael sputtered
and laughed. "I have my boots on, you nut! At least they're old
clothes." He moaned when Danny drew him in for a deep, needy
kiss.
Nothing like having six feet of wet, squirming Goth on top of you
to make you forget small things like headaches.
"This wasn't what I had in mind... oh, Danny..." Their erections,
one bared and one confined by sopping fabric, brushed. They slid
against one another, laughing and moaning.
Danny's hands slowly fumbled wet denim and cotton out of the
way. The fabrics fought him maliciously. Finally he succeeded in
pulling them down far enough. He stroked Michael's already hard
cock, and his own jumped in sympathy. He heard Michael
begging against his lips, "Fuck me, Danny, please, now, please..."
"Turn around," Danny said.
Desperate, Michael tried to comply, with much splashing of water.
It was a measure of how far into lust Danny had descended that he
didn't give a damn about the mess they were making. The older
man's body rubbed against his on every attempt, making him even
crazier.
Finally Michael managed to turn around, and Danny had that
perfect ass exactly where he wanted it. Fingers already slick with
bath oil, the younger man slid them up into a hot tightness that
never failed to amaze him. He found the spot he wanted and
stroked. Michael panted and shivered, shamelessly begging.
Danny had gone past being able to stand the preliminaries himself.
He removed his fingers with one long glide, then stroked his cock
in, immediately setting a fast, demanding rhythm. Michael helped
as much as he could, pushing back to take his lover in as far as
possible. Their sliding around in the wet tub made it more
unpredictable than usual, but neither minded. Danny reached for
Michael's cock and stroked it ruthlessly. Michael shrieked as he
exploded, his internal muscles clenching around and milking
Danny until he too fell into a blinding orgasm.
They panted together for a while, before they went still and just
rested together. Finally, Michael laughed and said, "I didn't plan
that, but I definitely can't complain. You surprised me, huh?" He
kissed the side of Danny's neck. "Danny?" Michael grinned at the
sight of his lover passed out with a blissful expression on his face.
The water had been hot, and Danny had looked so tired...
Michael brought more water than he wanted out with him as he
clambered out of the tub. Pulling his jeans up so he could move
presented a problem he needed five minutes to fix. As much as he
would have liked to shuck off his sopping clothing, he knew he
wouldn't be able to untie his boots for anything. He might have to
cut the laces later. Danny awoke alone in cool water. Michael must have put the tray
across the tub that stopped Danny from sliding under and
drowning. Danny heard the faint sound of music from beyond the
closed door. //What is he up to? He said there would be more
coming...// Feeling loose and indolent but also painfully curious,
he sat up and looked around.
Michael had even mopped up all the water that should have
flooded the floor. //Am I domesticating him? Or is it just that he
loves me that much?//
His clothing had disappeared, but something deep blue and
lustrous rested folded next to the towels. He stood up and used one
of the wonderfully thick towels to dry off, sighing at the way it felt
against his oiled, sensitized skin. He wrapped the towel around his
waist, then picked up the object of his interest.
Slick, soft silk teased his hands as the robe unfolded in front of
him. The candlelight rippled across deep blue, almost indigo,
fabric. Danny petted it with a lump in his throat. It was beautiful,
and obviously meant for him. //Oh, Michael.//
When Danny put it on and tied the belt, he moaned at how the
fabric felt as it slid back and forth across his cock. He wanted to
grab Michael now and make sure the older man knew how much
he appreciated all of this. More surprises ahead...
Danny opened the door and yelled, "Is it safe to come out yet?"
"Sure. I'm in the dining room."
Michael had transformed the dining room into an exotic,
mysterious place as well. More candles, and incense made the air
a heady, intriguing thing to breathe. Michael took Danny's breath
away. Dressed in black velvet and leather with silver accents, the
older man had put on his best. The candlelight brought out blond
and red fire in his soft chestnut hair. His smile threatened to outdo
the candles.
Then Danny saw Mr. Whiskers and started to sputter. The big
orange tabby had a small, blue party hat perched atop her head and
a huge blue bow tied around her neck. She looked really pissed
off.
When his sputtering turned to giggles, the cat turned what Danny
would swear was a dirty look on Michael. Michael looked back at
her, shrugged, and said, "So I lied."
Danny lost it, writhing with laughter. Every time he looked up and
saw that expression of offended feline dignity, he just started to
chortle harder. It hurt, but in a good way.
When he started to wind down, Michael helped him to the table to
sit down. Danny noticed that Michael had polished the boots he
wore, different from the ones he had on earlier, to within an inch of
their lives. Danny could see himself in them. Although the
reflection was a little distorted, he saw a pale man with fiery hair
wearing a gorgeous ankle-length robe. And he looked deliriously
happy.
Michael seated himself across from Danny and picked up a spoon.
Danny finally saw the ice cream sundae that sat on the table
between them. Vanilla ice cream with hot fudge topping, whipped
cream, and a neon cherry. Just like the sundae they'd shared the
first time they met. A spoon of his own rested near his hand.
"Happy birthday, Danny," Michael said with a beautiful smile.
"How did you know?"
"I have my ways. Now let's dig in. We still have more to come."
//More to come...// Danny picked up his spoon and dug in.
Michael flirted outrageously over the ice cream, doing things to it
and his spoon with his mouth and tongue that made Danny want to
reach across the table for him. But waiting would only make it
better. Gilded, bright green eyes smoldered into blue.
Finally, only the cherry remained. While Danny had had fun
fighting for it that first time, tonight he conceded. "You have it,
Michael." He wanted to watch.
Michael didn't disappoint. He picked it up by the stem and licked
it clean. His teeth caressed the intensely red skin once before he
devoured it in three delicate yet savage bites.
Michael stood and came around the table. He slid Danny's chair
around, then kneeled in front of his lover. "Danny, I had such a
hard time finding a gift for you. You want so little, at least where
material things are concerned."
"Michael—"
Michael put a finger to his lips. "Hush. Let me finish, please.
You've given me so much. You're the only person who ever
treated me like I was a real human being instead of a toy or an
unwanted appendage to my primary personality. You're so kind
and so loving... You gave me life, Danny. I never loved anyone
before I met you."
Danny could barely breathe past the lump in his throat.
"Michael—"
"That's my gift to you, Danny. That you know how much you
mean to me. And for tonight..." This next bit seemed to come
harder, and Michael's eyes darkened with pain. "and tonight only,
I'll answer anything you want to ask me. Anything. That's how
much I love you."
Danny understood the enormity of what Michael offered. He
could ask anything, demand any precious secret, and Michael
would give it up. Anything... If the devil ever came up to tempt
him, this would be the offer.
The older man stared at him with terror plain in his spring green
eyes. Michael offered total exposure and the right to strip him of
all his bright and dark secrets.
All questions died on Danny's lips. He couldn't do this. He didn't
need to know who Michael's body was the rest of the time, even if
it turned out to be Mulder, a total asshole, after all. Magic always
suffered when you robbed it of all its mysteries. //I don't want to
know, not if it will hurt him. My God, he does know me... and
must love me desperately.// All that mattered was that Michael
was Michael when he was with Danny.
Danny stroked Michael's hair. "I want you to keep your secrets.
You, as you are... You're my gift."
Michael closed his eyes and started to breathe again. "Thank you,"
he said softly. He grinned shakily. "I like your outfit."
"Fairies left it for me."
Michael laughed. "But you're overdressed." He untied the belt and
let the silk slither off Danny's lap.
"Michael, you don't have to... oh..." A cool tongue lapped at his
cock using a technique his lover had demonstrated on a spoon only
a few minutes ago. Nibbling kisses followed. With the state of
low-grade arousal Danny had been in since he put the robe on, he
knew he couldn't last much longer. "Michael—" he moaned.
Michael knew. He drew Danny's cock into his cool, sticky mouth
and deep-throated it, milking Danny as hard as he could. Danny
gripped his lover's velvet-clad shoulders as he came. Once
Michael finished sucking, he slithered up Danny's chest and kissed
him. The younger man's hands slid over Michael's ass, luxuriating
in the leather that clung so tightly to the skin.
"Bed?" Michael asked shakily.
Danny grinned at the thought of unwrapping his present. "What do
you think?"
Fox idly stroked his lover's hair with one hand and the cat with the
other. Both snuggled up against him. "But Danny will always be
my favorite," he said softly to Mr. Whiskers, who only stared at
him. "That's okay, you're not my type," her eyes seemed to say.
So long as he petted and fed her, she would forgive him for the hat
and bow.
He pulled Danny closer to him. "You're my gift," Danny had said.
Fox couldn't even name all the things he felt right now. Delirious
happiness. Overwhelming love. Pride that he'd pulled it all off.
//Fox?//
Fox sighed. {What is it, Mulder?} At least Mulder had been
absent the rest of the night. Whether it had been out of respect for
Fox's privacy or a personal desire to avoid experiencing sex with
someone Mulder called, at his kindest, "LabBoy" was an issue Fox
didn't intend to concern himself with.
//This was an incredible thing you planned.//
{I liked it.}
//What I mean is that you planned it. Weeks in advance.//
{So?}
//Not that long ago you couldn't even think a few days in advance.
You were completely "now"-oriented, like a child. Have you
noticed any differences?//
[Leave the boy alone, Mulder,] William said. [We can't change.]
Partly to spite William, but also because it was the truth, Fox said,
(Actually, I have noticed some changes. Things don't take forever
anymore.}
Mulder's voice seemed to be torn between disbelief and throat-
choking happiness. //I think you're growing up.//
[Oh, please.]
Growing up? Fox wondered... As he drifted into sleep entangled
with his lover, Fox gave thanks for all the gifts he'd given and
received.
Part V—Fault Lines
Michael was all but vibrating with excitement. "This is going to
be great." All the movement made Daniel fear for the structural
integrity of the tortilla chips Michael carried.
"Sure." Daniel didn't have the heart to tell Michael how nervous
he felt. Danny had never been comfortable in large groups or party
situations, and that was when he at least knew a few people there.
He usually spent the night alone and tongue-tied in a corner.
This looked like a huge party. Lights and ear-splitting noise
spilled from the open windows and door of the run-down house.
Daniel had to wonder why the neighbors hadn't called the cops yet.
As they walked in the doorway, the scent of marijuana, cigarette
smoke, and incense tickled the back of his throat and instantly took
him back to his high school days.
A second later a huge, long-haired man grabbed him. Plunged into
suffocating darkness, Daniel struggled weakly and tried to keep the
bottle of salsa safe until he heard a rumbled, "Peace be with you,
man." //He's hugging me. Calm down. Why the hell is he hugging
me?// Then the stranger let Danny go and clutched Michael the
same way. //Yeah, but Michael's tall enough that he doesn't get
smothered.//
While Michael obviously struggled between relaxing into the hug
and clocking the man, Danny took advantage of the opportunity to
survey his surroundings. It looked like a regular house taken
hostage by the counterculture, its mainstream, nuclear family lines
and arrangement converted by its coverings into something very
different. Colorful murals and graffiti covered walls lined by beat-
up couches. Loud, recorded music fought with live drumming
coming from a nearby room. Hippies, Goths, metalheads, freaks,
and a few preppies mingled, against all natural order.
Daniel felt hopelessly mundane in these surroundings. //You can
dress me up a little, but I'm still a fraud, and everyone here can see
it.//
Once Michael had extricated himself from the friendly hippie, he
grabbed Danny's arm and led him to the kitchen. Danny could
have sworn that the greeter hadn't held him that long. //Would
it really surprise you if the bastard copped a feel? I mean, look
at Michael.//
Michael had dressed in his casual best: ankh necklace, tight T-
shirt, tight jeans, combat boots buffed to a high shine. Danny
could tell by the crisp, new black of the outfit that Michael saw this
party as personally important, understandable since Danny rarely
agreed to go to parties with him. On lesser occasions he wore
faded black.
Dressed in his own black T-shirt and jeans, Danny felt like he had
a target painted on his back, even among people who wouldn't see
the outfit as unusual. Especially among those people.
Michael swore he knew only the person who had invited him, but
he said hi to everyone and... looked at them. Danny fought
down a surge of jealousy, knowing Michael was like that with
everyone. He couldn't help himself. Michael flirted with the
world. If only the world wouldn't always flirt back...
//Look at him, especially when he's happy, like now. The world
can't help itself.//
A woman with blue hair wearing raw silk layers in a multitude of
colors grabbed Michael by the shoulders and kissed him on both
cheeks. "Michael, baby, you made it!"
"Wouldn't miss it, Suz. I brought my love and munchies."
Suz grinned at Danny. "So you're the one who snared Michael?
Welcome to the party."
//Yeah, and I can see you're wondering how I managed it. You
can just keep wondering.//
As Michael and Daniel put their offerings on the table, they heard
screaming from the yard: "Free! Come back, Free!"
"Excuse me. They'll never catch the dog while they're stoned. If I
find out Steve has been feeding it acid again, I'll flay him myself."
She ran out, gauzy skirts flying, and screamed, "Free! Here, boy!
Mommy will rescue you from the bad men!"
//All the neighbors must have moved out by now.// Danny grabbed
a beer bottle and emptied it in one pull. Maybe it would relax him
or help this party make more sense. //Why am I here?// He turned
to face Michael and saw the older man watching him with hungry
eyes.
"Do that to me later?" Michael asked in a low, husky voice.
Danny shivered. //Oh, yeah, that's why I'm here.//
Dancing a little, Michael took Danny by the arm and led him to the
room the live drumming was coming from. People sat on the old
couches and the floor in a circle and played a variety of small
drums and bongos, just jamming. One person got up and handed a
tambourine to someone else. The crowd applauded as the new
person hit the tambourine against her leg with a vigor that had to
leave bruises. Another very stoned hippie girl got up and started to
do a sinuous dance to a song she must have been hearing in her
head, because her movements had nothing to do with the
drumming or the CD that played.
"Looks like fun. Is there a waiting list for a drum?" Michael asked
one of the hangers-on.
"You just have to be here when someone leaves the circle and
jump for it."
"Thanks."
A mural of rolling purple hills covered one wall. As Danny looked
at it more closely, he realized the hills were actually arms and
hands. It disturbed him. //How can people trip in this house
without doing themselves permanent damage?//
With all the candles and people packing it, the room felt
murderously hot. Danny knew himself well enough to know that
right now he would be looking flushed and sweaty, which always
made him feel ugly. By comparison, Michael glowed from the
heat, gaining a light sheen that highlighted the fine features of his
face. //It's just not fair.// The noise and all the people pressed on
Danny, making him feel small.
The young man Michael had asked about the drumming was still
talking to him, leaning in far too closely... A stunningly beautiful
daughter of the night hovered on the other side, asking if Michael
had ever played before. Danny started on another beer.
They sat for a while, with Michael bopping his head to the
drumming and Danny nursing his beer, feeling something dark in
his stomach grow until it started to climb up his throat. Realizing
that no one intended to give up a drum soon, Michael asked,
"Dance with me, Danny?"
Danny thought of the audience that hippie girl had drawn as she
danced. "No, not now." When he saw the look of disappointment
on Michael's face, Danny thought, //Why don't you ask one of
your new friends? They don't look ridiculous with you like I
do...//
"Is something wrong?"
//I have to get away.// "No. I just need the little boy's room."
"Are you sure?"
"For God's sake, Michael, I'm fine. I just need directions," Danny
snapped. Michael actually looked a little cowed.
"Up the stairs. It's the second door on your left," the Goth chick
said.
//I'm sure you can't wait to get rid of me.// "Thanks." Danny got
up and picked up another two beers on the way out. As he
awkwardly climbed the steep steps, Danny tried to keep control of
his emotions. //This isn't your world anymore. You've gotten old
and staid. But it hurts...
//God, any one of these people would be a better match for
Michael than I am. He has to see it. It's only a matter of time.
Doesn't mean I have to watch.//
Danny found an unoccupied dark bedroom and almost hurt himself
tripping through the doorway. The incident left him dizzy.
Closing the door cut down on the noise. He sat down on the floor
with his back to a corner and put his head on his knees.
Justine wanted to dance too, so Fox got up with her and swayed
around the floor to one of the slower songs. Her elegant hands
immediately slid down to his ass. He sighed and smiled a little.
Danny still hadn't returned, and Fox was starting to get worried.
Fox couldn't quite say why he felt so nervous about his lover's
absence. The people here were nice, so no one would attack
Danny, and the house was small enough that it was impossible to
get truly lost. But he thought of the nasty way Danny had spoken
before he left.
[But I asked him if he was okay, and he said he was fine. If he
had problems here, he would tell me, right? I'm the one who has
the problems...]
As Danny drank alone in the dark, his mind kept throwing images
at him. That beautiful Goth girl probably had no inhibitions about
dancing. He imagined her moving close to Michael, hip to hip,
before starting to kiss him. He saw Michael, a little hesitant at first
maybe, gradually giving himself over to her, kissing back, deeper
and deeper. Their hands would start to roam desperately over one
another, stroking and fondling, tearing clothing away... Finally,
Michael would be entwined with her, ravenously kissing her
perfect, creamy skin, making her moan as he thrust into her.
He saw a similar possibility with Michael and the other man,
culminating in Danny's lover writhing in total abandon as the
handsome stranger fucked him. He saw all three of them together,
thoroughly and desperately exploring one another. Every scenario
possible danced its way across his fevered mind. Either or both of
the interlopers made a better visual match with Michael's beauty.
Once Daniel's brain finished torturing him with pornographic
images of those two, it started to pair other people at the party with
Michael. Every single person Michael had smiled at. It made a
long list. Rage pounded behind Danny's eyes, even as he felt a
lump in his throat and his eyes starting to tear.
Worse, the scenarios kept turning him on. //Damn you, Michael.
Damn you for making me feel this way.//
After 25 minutes of ever-increasing worry, Michael broke loose
from his dance partner. "I'm going to check on Danny. I'll be
back."
Justine pouted. "Oh, c'mon, he's a big boy. Well, in a manner of
speaking..."
{You bitch.} "You just became a lot less attractive." Michael left
her to sputter impotently in his wake. He took the stairs two at a
time and started to knock on, then open, doors. He surprised two
couples, but neither minded his interruption much. One invited
him in, and he declined.
One room had a guy who looked like he rode with a motorcycle
gang, providing free piercing services. Fox felt a pang of want but
knew Mulder would kill him for it.
//And these are far from the most sterile conditions,// Mulder
said.
{All right! Geez! Be helpful. Where do you think Danny went?}
//We still have three more rooms to check. After that, I would try
the basement.//
{I don't understand this at all...}
//Maybe he feels uncomfortable.//
{But I asked! If he wanted to go, he only had to say so! He's
too important to me...}
Hearing the panicked, wounded child in Fox's voice, Mulder
applied a more calming tone. //He had a few beers. Maybe they
hit him suddenly, and he needed to sit down somewhere quiet.//
{That's good, that's good.}
[Are you driving that poor boy to drink, Fox?] William asked with
a sneer.
{If you can't be helpful, shut up! I need to think here...}
In the second room he tried after that, Fox saw a movement in the
shadows. "Danny?"
"Finally noticed I was gone, hunh?" The voice sounded dark and
ugly and had a familiar tone in it that made Fox's heart shrivel.
{Daddy?}
"You told me... told me you were fine, and didn't want me asking
about you..."
Fox kneeled down in front of the sitting shadow. The
overwhelming smell of alcohol on Danny's breath made Fox gag
and reminded him of other nights long ago, of another ugly drunk.
Of the things that ugly drunk made him do...
Panicked, Mulder buried himself deep, taking Fox Mulder with
him, and went utterly silent, until Fox couldn't even feel their
presence anymore. William watched impassively and recorded
everything, as he always did. Baby cried softly to himself,
prepared to scream if things got worse.
Things always got worse.
"And you believed that, Michael? Didn't you look? Couldn't
you see?"
"That's... not fair. You told me..."
"You were too busy flirting with your new groupies to notice
anything else."
"Danny, I love you, but you're scaring me. Please come away
with me?"
"My God, you're a filthy little slut, do you know that?"
<Oh, God, please don't say these things to me.> "Danny..."
A hand flew out of the darkness and hit Fox's face with stinging
force and a loud cracking sound. The skin burned, and the slap
made Fox's eyes water, but he held the tears back. Daddy had
punished tears, and Fox had sworn he would never waste them on
the bastard. He had some pride. A little. But the slap didn't hurt
as much as what Danny had just said, and Fox wanted to scream
and never stop...
{You were different. You were so kind and wonderful. Was it all
a lie? A set-up for a more baroque torture a few months down the
line when I let down all my defenses and trusted you? Get a few
drinks in you, and you're just like Dad. Just like...}
"Leave me the fuck alone, Michael. Go back down there to your
friends. Do whatever you want with them. I don't want anything
that's been sampled by so many people."
Fox bit his fist, wishing for the X-acto knife blade he had once
used to make the small cuts in his flesh that helped manage the
pain. This would have to do.
"Yes, sir," Fox said softly before he backed away and closed the
door behind him. He slid down the wall and sat down on the floor.
Fighting back tears, he felt his face burn, the mark of Danny's
hand like a red brand on his skin.
{I'm so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid... Am I that bad a judge
of character? Or am I just looking for Dad, as sick as that is?}
"He doesn't appreciate you, you know," a feminine voice said
above him. "He doesn't know how to treat you."
Fox looked up to see an elegantly dressed woman and her two
male escorts gazing down at him. He could tell that the
sympathetic friendliness they wore thinly covered something dark
and predatory. Neither of the men was all that tall, but they
loomed large to Fox somehow. The small, lean Goth one
especially had too-intense eyes...
{I'm too tired for this.} "He's having a bad night."
The woman crouched down. Her slaves made a protective circle,
blocking her and Fox from anyone's view... "Let us make it up to
you, dear?" She touched the side of his face Danny hadn't hit, and
Fox couldn't help leaning into the gentle touch.
{Pathetic. I'd thought I'd come so far...}
[So far? You're right back where you started, boy,] William said.
[You got personally involved. It was a mistake that let you get
hurt. Now you know better.]
{You just want things back the way they're always been.}
[The way they've always been is safe, Fox.]
In a way, William was right. Fox thought of years of one-night
stands, the desperate grabbing for some kind of affection, no
matter how illusory or temporary. It wasn't like his condition and
on-again, off-again life provided a good foundation for a stable
relationship. At least he had been safe, protected from any real
hurt.
Alex Krycek, oddly enough, and Danny had given Fox an
expectation that things could be different, better, that Fox didn't
have to be the world's playtoy. But Krycek was a traitor and a
killer, and Danny— Danny had just ripped Fox's heart out and
stomped on it, come close to calling him a whore, made him lose
faith in his judgment.
{Maybe he's just a really bad drunk. Maybe he didn't really mean
any of it. Maybe...}Fox knew this territory by heart. He lived on
hope and generous interpretations.
Not that any of it mattered. Fox would take the verbal and
physical abuse if Danny showed him a little sugar once in a while.
No one else did.
But it would be a long time before Fox would trust Daniel again.
Maybe never.
"Come out of the hallway, dear. We don't bite."
{You're lying.} But Fox stood up and followed them anyway.
Danny nursed his last beer in darkness. //Was I a bit rough on
him? No. Better to dump him than wait for him to dump me.
Better this way for both of us...//
The door crashed open, and the light went on, searing his eyes.
"There you are! What the hell did you say to him?" the blue-
haired girl he'd last seen in the kitchen shouted, splitting his head.
"What th' hell are you talking about?" It disgusted Danny to hear
how sloppy his words sounded. //I didn't have that much...//
"Michael! This group is messing with him and dragging him out,
and he's not fighting them. He looks like he's not even home in
there. I never saw anyone just phase out like that, just gone... He
was so happy when he got here; what did you say to him?"
Danny tried to think of anything he could have said to make him
responsible for that. Nope. "Nothin'. Lemme alone."
"Fucking useless! You don't deserve him!" She slammed the door
behind her as she ran out.
//You are so right, sister.// To his disgust, he realized that he
would have to get up to turn the painful light off. As he stood, the
world did a crazy, swaying swing. The girl's words echoed
through his head.
"What did you say to him?... This group is messing with him and
dragging him out, and he's not fighting them. It's like he's not
even home in there... phase out like that, just gone... What did you
say to him?
"What did you say to him?
"This group is messing with him and dragging him out, and he's
not even fighting them. It's like he's not even home in there..."
Sobriety hit Daniel so hard, he rocked with it as he realized what
he had done. //Oh, God, I just stomped every single self-destruct
button Michael has. He was—and I just got drunk and said... and
said... Oh, God—//
Daniel almost killed himself flying down the steps. While his
mind had cleared, the alcohol still ruled his body.
The blue-haired girl—Suz, Danny remembered now—held valiantly
onto the arm of a very cold and elegant looking woman who
directed her two male companions to keep taking Michael out the
door. Michael looked almost mindless as he stood quietly in their
grip.
"Is he complaining or protesting? No. I won't take this kind of
harassment..."
"Let him go," Daniel said. "He's not going anywhere with you."
She turned to him with a sneer. "You threw him away like trash.
You can hardly blame me for recycling the lovely boy."
Michael seemed to come to at the sound of Daniel's voice. He
looked ashamed and overwhelmed. Danny could swear he saw a
faint red mark in the shape of his hand on Michael's face and felt
his soul shrivel further.
//I don't deserve you, Michael.// "Let him go."
The woman laughed. "What will you do if we don't?"
"I'll fight you for him." The two men weren't all that muscular, but
there were two of them, and the look in their eyes scared Danny.
They looked like people who got off on causing and receiving
pain. //Fight them, and probably get myself humiliated or killed,
but I can't let them take Michael.//
At that moment Michael kicked one of his escorts in the groin and
slammed the other one's head into the doorway. Surprised, they
never had a chance to defend themselves. With one man doubled
over on the floor and the other one bleeding and unconscious,
Michael turned to face the woman. "I'll fight you for me," he
said.
She stared Michael down and obviously had to fight against
disbelief and confusion. Tension crackled in the air between them.
Daniel was afraid of what she might say next. Normally, Danny
would be certain Michael would come out on top, but the older
man still looked a little shaky, with a slightly fragile air that
suggested the right word would shatter him. //I did that to him.//
The woman noticed that a crowd had finally gathered to watch.
Her expression turned even more brittle.
"When those two can travel, everybody make sure these three get
their sorry asses out of here," Suz said as she pulled Michael away.
"They threatened one of my guests."
Seeing the way the tide had turned, the woman stepped out over
the bodies of her companions. She left silently without looking
back. Two of Suz's hippie friends dragged the men out to the curb
and left them there like trash for pick up.
Danny felt so ashamed of himself he couldn't look Michael in the
face, especially not with the mark of his hand emblazoned on the
older man's cheek. Feeling the staring eyes of the crowd on his
back, greedily drinking everything in, Daniel took Michael by the
arm, walked until he found an unoccupied room, and closed the
door behind them. Michael didn't resist or say a word.
Michael sat down on one of the couches, leaned back until his head
met the wall, and closed his eyes. He looked ashamed.
//No, you're the not the one who should feel ashamed here!// "I'm
so sorry. You don't need me at all. I'm useless. I'm worse than
useless; I actually hurt you."
"Don't be an idiot, Danny. If you hadn't come down, I would have
gone away with them and let them do anything they wanted,"
Michael said softly.
//That doesn't make me feel any better. I don't deserve to feel
better. Oh, God, Michael...// "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I said such
horrible, lying things to you. I hit you..."
"Yeah. Are you okay, Danny?" Michael asked in an echo of his
earlier question.
Danny paused a long moment before speaking. "No, no, I'm not.
No I wasn't," he said softly. //Time to do what I should have done
from the start.// Once the words started, they tumbled out in a
rush. "I don't know anyone here, and crowds make me
uncomfortable, and I realized that, much as I would like to, I don't
fit in with this group anymore, and I saw the whole house flirting
back at you, and you're gorgeous, and I'm not, but you were
happy, and I didn't want you to leave just for me, so I started
drinking to blunt the pain, and I just made it all worse and hurt
you..."
Michael nodded. "Okay. I should have seen all that."
Danny knelt down in front of him. "This isn't your fault! None of
it is! You couldn't have known. I should have said something,
and I never should started drinking. I'm a terrible drunk."
Michael's wide eyes looked so hurt and so young that Daniel
wanted to die looking at him. "So, we don't let this happen next
time, okay?" Michael said.
//Next time?// He repeated it stupidly, "Next time?"
"Do you want to go home?" Michael asked, his voice still
sounding flatter than it should, leached of much of its warmth. The
wariness in it, the sense of holding back, made Daniel want to cry.
The thought of going home tempted, especially going home with
Michael, but Danny felt he hadn't begun to pay for what he had
done. "I owe you a dance."
"I don't want this to be a punishment thing for you. I won't dance
with you if I know you're not enjoying it."
//How can we know each other this well at times, and then still
screw up so royally?// "I'll enjoy it."
"No, you won't. We'll go home." Michael stood and helped
Danny up. Danny's head spun, and he could feel his stomach
moving up his throat. He fought it back down.
When they reached the hallway, the crowd had already dispersed,
to Daniel's relief. Only Suz, looking worried, remained. She
offered them a bowl.
Danny at first thought she'd anticipated his urge to throw up, but
then saw the pile of colored stones in it. "I can't let you go without
a parting gift. Everybody will get one," she said, mostly to
Michael. She wouldn't look at Danny. Michael choose a small
amethyst quartz crystal chunk, with spikes of purple rising from an
amethyst and quartz base that looked like ices.
Danny let his hand roam through the bowl until it closed on a cool,
oval stone. He saw pale green on his palm when he pulled it out.
Jade.
Michael let Suz hug him good-bye, then led Danny out into the
cold night air. The temperature change hit Danny like a fist to the
gut. He managed to hold back until they reached the curb, where
he fell to his knees, retching. Michael held him until the spasms
passed, then led him to the car, carefully settled him into the
passenger seat, and belted him in.
As the door slammed, Danny closed his eyes. //I am such a fuck-
up. Stupid, stupid... How can Michael ever trust me again?// His
hand closed on the cool, smooth stone, and he tried to use the
sensation to ground himself.
"If you need to throw up, tell me, and I'll stop," Michael said. It
was the last thing he said for the rest of the ride. He listened
impassively to Daniel's repeated rambling apologies and promises.
The words, "Never again, I swear to you. I love you. I swear I'll
make it up to you. I'm sorry," were featured prominently. Danny
had to ask him to pull over three times before they got to the
apartment.
When they arrived, Michael unlocked the door and turned on a
single dim light. Danny wandered into the bathroom and brushed
his teeth viciously, trying to scrub the beer and vomit taste from
his mouth but also trying to erase the whole evening. He spat
blood and toothpaste into the sink. He looked into the mirror at a
face by turns corpse-pale and drunkard-flushed. Ugly. He put his
toothbrush back on the rack next to Michael's black one.
"You okay?" Michael asked from outside the door.
"Yeah. I'm going to take a shower."
Danny turned the water on as cold as he could stand and shivered
miserably under it. He felt like cold stones were pounding his
head, and gooseflesh came up all over his body, but he felt sober.
//God, I saw two uncles struggle with the bottle and how nasty they
were under the influence, and I still tried to use drink to make
things easier. Stupid, Danny, real stupid. And God knows what I
did to Michael. He's been so quiet...//
He finished the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He
reached automatically for the blue silk robe that hung from a
nearby hook but stopped the gesture. He couldn't wear Michael's
luxurious present tonight. He knew he didn't deserve it.
He walked out with just the towel, shivering from the cool air, and
saw Michael sitting on the couch absently stroking Mr. Whiskers.
Michael looked up, and he looked so completely beaten that Daniel
winced inside.
"My turn," Michael said quietly before he took his things into the
bathroom.
Daniel settled onto the couch, wrapped his grandmother's afghan
around himself, and closed his eyes. He would let Michael have
the bed tonight. Mr. Whiskers nudged his hand with her head.
Wik always knew when he didn't feel well and came over to try to
cheer him up. //I don't deserve you either... Maybe if I go to
sleep, I can wake up in the morning and find out that none of this
really happened. That it was all just a bad dream.//
Daniel passed out and came to at the sound of a warm voice
saying, "I understand punishment, but this is a bit ostentatious.
You'll catch your death out here."
Michael dragged him up from the couch and led him to the
bedroom. "No, after what I've done..." Danny protested.
"Shush." Michael pulled the comforters up around them and
snuggled into Danny. "Damn, you're cold. You should see some
of the things I've done when I was feeling insecure." Michael
kissed him.
"I don't—"
"I love you. What do I have to do to make you believe it?"
Michael clutched him tightly, trying to transfer heat, and refused to
let him pull away.
Daniel realized that Michael, one of the most tactile people he'd
ever met, needed this, the reassurance of touch. Daniel relaxed
into him and stroked his back, murmuring, "I'm sorry. I'll kill
myself before I do that to you again."
Michael shivered. "It hurt."
"Never again, Michael," Daniel said as he gently nuzzled his
lover's neck. "I don't deserve you..."
Wrapped in Michael's warmth, Danny faded into sleep.
Next Friday, they stayed in for a quiet evening. Daniel sat on the
couch with Michael's head resting on his lap, while Michael used
Wik's purring body on his chest as a bookstand. Danny gently
stroked his lover's soft brown hair and tried not to feel so damned
guilty. The new reserve between them didn't help either.
Danny knew he would have to earn Michael's trust back, and he
knew it would take a while. He also knew that Michael was more
than worth it.
"I know you like to go out and party, Michael—"
Michael sighed, but obviously more in contentment than
annoyance. "Danny, this is nice. Trust me."
//I really have to learn how to do that.// "I have something for
you."
Michael sat up, and his vibrant green eyes sparkled for the first
time in a while. "Really?"
//Like a kid at Christmas... Damn, he's beautiful.// "I put the order
in four weeks ago, so it has nothing to do with last weekend. I'm
not trying to buy you."
"Danny, you know I have no patience. What is it?"
Daniel picked a plain box up from the end table and handed it to
Michael, who spent one moment studying it before he ripped into
it. He carefully smoothed ivory tissue paper away before he
reached in and lifted the item out.
"Oh, Danny, it's beautiful." Michael held a small black marble
statue in his hands. Michael the Archangel stood triumphant with
his foot on the neck of the vanquished dragon, Satan. He held a set
of scales in one hand and a burning sword in the other. The artist
had articulated every feather on the angel's wings, every scale on
the dragon. Buffed to a high shine, the statue gleamed in the
lamplight.
"Do you like it?" Danny asked softly.
"It's—it's incredible. No one has ever gotten me anything like this
before." Michael traced the face with his fingers.
"I remember the way you stared at the statuary in that booth at the
bazaar we went to. I put a specialty order in."
"This must have cost a fortune."
"Not too much. It's small."
Michael gave him a dubious look. Danny just shrugged and
smiled. "This is the way I see you, Michael, refusing to let the
dragon win."
"I love it. Let me show you how much." Michael gently put the
statue down on the coffee table, taking a moment to arrange it just
so, then pulled him closer for a kiss. Daniel felt a lessening of
Michael's reserve in the fierceness of the lips against his and the
possessiveness of the hands that roamed under his shirt and,
finally, into his pants.
Daniel knew he hadn't fully regained Michael's trust, nor did he
feel he'd deserved to yet. Not with a gift, a bribe. The thought and
care behind the gift was a different story.
As Danny's mouth trailed down Michael's chest, before it stopped
at its intended destination and swallowed him whole, Michael
gasped, "I thought I'd be the one doing the thanking." Soon he
couldn't say anything coherent at all, just moan Daniel's name and
try not to buck too hard.
Saying "I love you" with gifts and sex wasn't enough, of course.
But as Danny lost himself in his lover, he hoped it could at least be
a start.
Part VI—Wednesday
"Distant noises,
The sound of a key turning and turning in the lock on his front
door confused Daniel Pendrell. He hadn't been expecting anyone,
and the only person who had a key never showed up any earlier
than Friday night. Or showed this much trouble unlocking the
door.
Danny pulled the door open. "Oh, God, Michael, what happened
to you?" He grabbed his shaking lover and pulled him inside.
From the wetness and flush on his face, Michael had obviously
been crying. It took a hell of a lot to make Michael cry. "Danny,
could I stay here for the night?" he asked softly. "I know it's
Wednesday, but—"
Danny pulled him in close. "Of course you can. Stay forever, if
you want."
As he hugged Michael tightly, Danny felt a warm glow. After a
disastrous night a little over a month ago, their relationship had
still been loving, but showed signs of strain. Tonight, an upset
Michael had obviously run directly here for comforting and
support. It suggested a return of some of the trust Danny had so
stupidly destroyed.
Michael had obviously run directly over.
Michael wore a dark blue trench coat, rumpled suit, undone tie,
and dress shoes. He smelled of sex and an unfamiliar cologne.
Then Danny realized that he recognized the scent after all.
He had known for months, but hadn't let himself believe it. He
would never have been able to deal with Mulder in a professional
manner at all otherwise. Mulder had kept his distance too,
probably for similar reasons.
Danny never took it up with Michael because his lover seemed so
desperate to protect Mulder's identity. He found it touching and
completely characteristic. Michael had always been freshly
showered and done up as himself every time he came over.
Tonight, something, or someone, had upset him so deeply that he'd
neglected all his precautions.
//I won't say anything unless he does, but I want to kill whoever
did this to him.//
Fox meekly let Danny lead him to the kitchen and sit him at the
table. He rested his face in his hands. {Why did Alex say such
horrible things to us? I'm not a whore; I was just returning a
favor. Someone does something nice for you, you do something
nice in return...}
[Krycek thinks he owns Mulder,] William said.
//He does not!// Mulder protested.
[Doesn't own you, or doesn't think he owns you?]
//Shut up! It's okay, Fox.//
{Oh, God, does Senator Matheson think I'm a whore? Does he
think I have sex with him just to pay for the information and
support he gives us?}
[No doubt.]
{Oh, God...}
Mr. Whiskers leapt into his lap to comfort him and be petted.
After some obvious confusion on her part about his identity—she
had always preferred Fox to Mulder, but he smelled mostly like
Mulder now—she purred and rubbed herself against his arm,
leaving orange and white hairs on his blue coat. Fox found
comfort in the steady vibration of her happiness and the beauty the
combination of colors provided...
[Stop phasing out! You're going to face this, Fox.]
{But I don't want to! This is too much for me!}
//This is my fault, Fox.//
{What? How can you figure that?}
//I— should have figured out what was going on with Matheson,
should have stopped it, but you seemed okay... I always blanked
out and didn't want to think about it... I all but pimped you off to
him!//
[Congratulations, boys, you both fucked up. Give yourselves a
hand. Mulder, you've been looking the other way, even knowing
Fox's problems, as long as Matheson helped your holy quest for
the Truth. Fox, you've been playing bottom boy to the senator,
trying to help Mulder and looking for affection from Daddy, for so
many years that you saw nothing wrong with continuing even after
you found yourself a steady. In fact, you still stink of Matheson.
Good going, kids.]
Fox couldn't help the sob that ripped from his throat. He had been
doing so well, Mulder had been saying so constantly. Under
Alex's sporadic attention and Danny's intensive care, Fox knew he
had been changing. He'd thought he had at least a few of his
problems whipped. He usually understood people so well that
falling headfirst into a giant blind spot hurt even more. How could
he have been so fucking stupid?
//We see what we want to see. We can't clearly see the people we
deal with directly, because we're fogged by our own perception of
them. It happens, Fox. I do it all the fucking time. It's not your
fault.//
Danny put a heaping bowl of ice cream and a spoon in front of Fox
before pulling him into another hug. "Do you want to talk about
it?"
Fox shook his head. He picked up the spoon with a trembling hand
and shoveled some ice cream into his mouth, desperate to banish
the taste of Matheson. Sweet, creamy vanilla, bittersweet
chocolate chips, and chewy, sugary, butterscotch-flavored chunks
melted on his tongue. Cookie dough ice cream. Danny had
immediately brought out the big gun flavor for him, which told
Fox that he must look like shit.
He couldn't tell Danny about this, not about Matheson or Krycek.
Now that he'd gotten out the almost mindless trance he went into
over his... relationship with Matheson, Fox knew that he couldn't
tell Danny about it without hurting him. He didn't want to ever
hurt Danny.
Fox put on a tremulous smile. "No, it's okay. I just can't stay in
my apartment. Not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow night. You
don't mind me staying here?"
The look Danny gave him wrapped warmly around his shaken self
like a favorite quilt. "I want you here. I love you, Michael."
Fox's smile widened. "I love you too, Danny."
Danny started to spoon feed him. The care and ice cream settled
Fox a bit, brought out his usual optimism. It wouldn't be so bad.
Danny loved him, and he would change things with Matheson as
soon as possible now that he knew. He didn't have to be anyone's
playtoy anymore. Dad was dead.
"Michael... what are you going to do about your suits? I mean,
you'll have to go back to your apartment, right?"
{Oh, shit. Oh, shit!}
//You're still wearing my suit.//
[The light at the end of the tunnel is a train. Haven't you figured
that out yet?]
{He knows! I can see it in his eyes! I'm so sorry, Mulder! I
fucked everything up, everything I touch...}
//It's okay. I think he already knew and didn't say anything out of
deference to your feelings. He's a good man, Fox.//
{Yes, I think he is, but you're just saying that to make me feel
better. I think you still want to string him up for what he did to us
that night.}
//What do you want me to say?//
{What you really think, always.}
//That's... not always easy.//
[He doesn't want to hurt you, kid, so he coddles you instead.]
{I'm so tired of lying to, and keeping things from, Danny. He
deserves better...}
[ //No, he doesn't.// ]
{When you two agree, you scare the hell out of me.}
//Do what you think is right, Fox.//
[Are you kidding? He's just a boy; he has no sense of judgment or
restraint.]
"Michael?"
"I have some friends I keep some spare work clothing with. I'll be
fine." Mulder's connection with the Lone Gunmen would save
their bacon once again.
[Unless Krycek already thought of them.]
As Fox whimpered internally, Mulder said, //He'll be too busy
staking out our apartment. Shut up.//
Danny watched Michael fight with himself. Only someone who
knew him well would see that from the way the eyes flickered. It
always scared Danny when the older man forgot to put up the
facade of normality. Aside from being genuinely unsettling, it also
suggested a mental turmoil beyond the usual.
The obvious internal fighting wasn't the only thing that scared
Danny. Watching Michael being Michael in Mulder's clothing and
cologne made him crazy with cognitive dissonance and confused
lust. His sight and sense of smell kept saying, Mulder/not Mulder.
The expensive cologne and more herbal scent provided a light
cover over Michael's sweeter, spicier essence. The musk of sex
also clung to the skin, but even that didn't smell quite the same.
Danny buried his nose in the back of Michael's neck and couldn't
help inhaling deeply, shivering himself as he felt the older man
respond to the intimacy and the feel of small, fine hairs being
disturbed by warm breath.
//Now I'm making myself crazier imagining how he feels about
what I'm doing to him. Dumb, Danny.//
Danny had enough trouble stopping himself from being attracted to
Mulder alone, without bringing this confusion into it. The part of
him that wanted to kill the other agent had no connection to the
part that wanted to bend the other man over a lab table.
//God, how will I face Mulder at work next time?// It had been
hard enough telling his groin to behave when he could still tell
himself that they weren't the same person, but now that he knew
and would associate Mulder's scent with tonight, with this warm
weight in his arms... //This is hell.//
He just had to be strong. Danny had survived facing Dana Scully,
so he could deal with this. //The two agents I want to see both
most and least, and they're partners who usually walk in together.
Lovely.//
Michael quivered in Danny's embrace, but the ice cream had
calmed him a bit, like it usually did. Knowing this had helped in
the past too. The older man acted like a big kid sometimes, which
Danny found simultaneously endearing and disturbing. Michael
dove into the carton for more.
//What could be bad enough to need a whole half-gallon of cookie
dough ice cream? I want to know so badly, but I won't pry. If he
tells me, good, but if not... God, don't I feel virtuous.//
When Michael kissed him, Danny luxuriated in the cool lips
against his own and the flavors of chocolate, butterscotch, and
sweet cream. He lost his mind and sense in the scent and feel of
Michael/Mulder...
Gasping, Michael pulled away. "I'm— I'm sorry, I should shower
first. This has to be confusing the hell out of you."
"It's okay." //Oh, no it's not.//
"Let me—" Michael looked away. "Let me wash Mulder off first,"
he said quietly.
//Oh, my God, he's doing it!// "Michael—"
Michael put a finger to Danny's lips. "You knew, but didn't let
yourself admit it. I knew you knew—I know you're too smart to be
fooled—but I let myself ignore that, hoping it would go away if I
didn't let myself look at it. I want it out in the open. I only wanted
to protect Mulder—"
Danny held him tighter. "I understand. Believe me, I do. I would
never say a word about this. I don't think other people would be as
understanding."
"That's an understatement. Danny, I wanted you to know that I've
been calling Mulder 'Marty' to you for the last few months."
Danny had never met 'Marty,' only knew him from Michael's
descriptions, but knowing that Mulder was Marty put the agent in a
different, kinder light. Michael saw 'Marty' as a thoughtful, self-
sacrificing, protective older brother.
"And, Danny, my name isn't... isn't Michael. I'd like it to be, but
I've actually been 'Fox' for my whole life. I didn't tell you for
obvious reasons."
//One thing about Michael, he never does anything halfway.
"Fox"...//
"What do you want to say, Danny?"
"What?"
"I can tell you want to say something. Please tell me." Michael
sounded so dispirited.
"It's just... that I like 'Fox.' I think it suits you." //He
probably named you. I can see where you might want to reclaim
your soul by naming yourself...// "But I can see how it might not
have pleasant memories for you."
{He likes my real name better... My God, he's being good about
this.}
[Maybe too good.]
{Leave me alone...}
"Danny," Fox swallowed, "would you say my name? Say 'Fox'
again?"
Danny said "Fox" into his skin, and it didn't feel like the
restraining or slapping hand Dad had made the name into.
Danny's "Fox" felt like the supportive arm of a friend draped over
his shoulders, warm and inviting.
Fox shivered. "Say it again?" The next one sounded lower and
deeper, and this one felt like a lover's touch, hot and familiar,
caressing his back. {Ohhhh...} He couldn't distrust a person who
said his name like that. "You don't make it sound like he did."
Fox couldn't believe how low and rough his own voice sounded.
"You could use it as a nickname, if you like it."
Danny smiled widely, and Fox couldn't help being struck by the
beauty of it. He loved bringing the younger man out. He had
always had a thing for shy people, for those moments when love
made all the reserve crumble and the person flare to life, changing
from not-here-don't-look-at-me to a pure, open radiation of self.
Fox could never help wanting to bring those walls down and let the
world see what he saw.
"You're beautiful, do you know that?" Fox whispered.
That led to kissing and the both of them gently, but insistently
stripping one another. Sheer joy hazed Fox's mind. He'd told
Danny the truth about who he was, and Danny still wanted him and
didn't hate him for the lies.
Mr. Whiskers' annoyed attempts to get off his lap and out of the
middle of their clinch helped Fox regain control of himself just
after Danny had finished unbuttoning his shirt. When he pushed
Danny away a little, Wik quickly got herself clear and gave them
the most disgusted look she could manage before she stalked off.
"I'm sorry, Wik," Danny said as Fox giggled.
"It's better this way," Fox said. "I don't want to do this dressed
like this. Take a shower with me?"
"My pleasure."
Once they reached the bathroom, they went back to stripping one
another, with even Danny flinging clothing to the floor. Fox heard
Mulder trying to protest, but he shushed him as being the last
person who had a right to complain about suit abuse. They
somehow managed to maneuver themselves into the tub without
letting go of one another. Danny turned on the water, first
shocking them with cold before he regained the presence of mind
to adjust the temperature to pleasantly hot. The abrupt temperature
changes further sensitized already tingling skin. Fox was sure
they'd kill themselves on the wet tile, but with the younger man's
insistent lips and cock pressing into his body, it didn't seem to
matter.
Danny's ardor amazed Fox; he must have found something
intensely kinky in his lover wearing another man's clothing and
scent, or maybe just in the fact that it was Wednesday instead of
the usual weekend. He had been aroused into a force of nature,
and Fox couldn't be happier. His touch, his taste, the scent of his
soap erased the hours before. Danny's hands, slick with soap, slid
over every square inch of skin, as if trying to sculpt Fox into a new
shape.
"Claim me, make me yours," Fox whispered against Danny's lips
in a brief moment between kisses.
"Anything you want."
As they stroked and ground against one another, aroused past
finesse, Fox gloried in being able to feel Danny all over his body.
The past disappeared, leaving only an intense, pleasurable Now,
and he felt a brief pang at how much easier things had been when
he could live in the moment all the time, without thought or
conscience or regret. Then, thought fled entirely as he let himself
drown in sensation. Danny came first, gasping "Fox!" The sound
of his actual name on Danny's lips—said with such clean, bright
passion—brought Fox over right after him.
Panting, they leaned back against the wall under the spray for a
few minutes before Danny opened his eyes and said, "We're
turning into prunes here."
Fox just murmured, spent. He heard Danny chuckle, and then felt
himself being gently led out and wrapped in a towel. Eventually,
he was lying down surrounded by fresh sheets and two warm
bodies, one Danny and the other, a purring cat. He fell asleep
comforted by the slow pounding of Danny's heart at his back.
Danny stayed awake for hours wondering over impossible things
like whether each personality had a soul and how Mulder could so
recklessly risk all of their lives. As his fingers traced numerous
scars, he felt the urge to lock them away somewhere safe.
//This complicates everything. How will I face Mulder next
time?// Danny remembered with some shame the way he had
behaved in the kitchen, aroused both by Michael himself, and by
Mulder's accoutrements on him. //There's nothing quite like being
in a hell of your own making.//
It felt so good having him here. It was so hard just seeing Michael
on the weekends, not just from missing the older man, but also
from the odd feeling of living two lives himself. Danny had a
weekday life of work as a meek Labmouse, and wild weekends
with his lover. The two had almost no connections.
When he stroked the bullet scar on Michael's shoulder, Michael
stirred and moaned, but not in an aroused way. "What's wrong,
Fox?" Danny asked in concern, even as he enjoyed the sound of
the nickname in his mouth. //It's so damned perfect...//
"It's stupid." Michael laughed softly and winced. "My stomach
hurts from all the ice cream I had. I have an ice cream hangover."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No, it's okay. I'll be fine." Michael turned and burrowed into
him. "And I love the way you say that name."
Danny felt a strong urge to protect the older man. It had hurt him
to see Michael so upset earlier. //Stay forever if you want to. Even
though I think it would make you feel better if you did, you don't
have to tell me what's wrong, or anything you don't want to. It
doesn't matter. I love you, and I'll always be here for you.// He
drifted into sleep with Michael wrapped around him.
When Danny work up the next morning, Michael had already let
himself out, leaving only a swiftly fleeting warmth and the whisper
of his scent on the pillow. Sighing, Danny removed a purring, but
heavy, Wik from his chest and got out of bed.
Danny had just bought his lunch when Mulder caught up to him.
He managed to throttle down the flash of lust that had thrummed
through him as he saw the other agent walking toward him. "What
can I do for you, Mulder?"
"Could we go somewhere a little more private? I have to talk to
you."
Now that Danny knew for sure and could admit it, he couldn't help
making comparisons. Mulder had the same, low, raw silk and
sandpaper voice, with the same effect on Danny's groin, but
deeper, and without the slight New England accent. Michael
showed more facial expressions and moved more energetically and
gracefully.
//Oh, shoot me. I'm scoping out another man. Sure, it's the same
body, but it's still not right, and it's disloyal to Michael...//
"Pendrell?"
//Have to stop woolgathering. At least he's wearing a different
cologne from last night.// "Sure, that's no problem."
Once they reached a more deserted part of the street, and Mulder
seem to feel satisfied that no one could eavesdrop, he said, "I
appreciate your kindness to Fox last night and you offering us a
place to stay." At least he looked as uncomfortable as Danny felt.
"But?"
"I don't forgive as easily as he does. You still have to earn my
trust again. If you ever talk to him or hit him like you did that
night, I'll make it so you'll never hurt anyone again. Am I making
myself clear?"
//Oh, God, I see...// "A little while back, I realized that I didn't just
attack him that night, I hurt all of you, didn't I? Just like he
did."
Although it hurt to realize that he hadn't gained back all their trust,
just Michael's, he knew he deserved this. //In one night I struck at
all of them, and they're not too stable to begin with. Please, God, I
don't want to screw them up worse. I want to be good for Michael
and the rest of them. He deserves that.//
Mulder looked away, and his monotone turned even flatter. "I said
my piece. I just hope that none of this gets in the way of our
working relationship. You're the best at what you do, and I'd hate
to lose your talents."
Danny fought down the urge to reach out and pull Mulder into a
hug. He couldn't even tell himself whether he felt that impulse
from confusing Mulder with Michael or from something he felt
from Mulder. //This is what Michael was trying to save me from
by keeping the truth from me. I see it all now. Sure, Mulder, I can
do that easily. I can separate my personal life from work, and you
from Michael, with no problems. Sure. It's almost enough to
make me wish I could be at least two different people.//
Aloud, Danny said, "Truthfully, I would think less of you if you
weren't so protective of him. I can separate my job from the things
that happen outside of it. At work, last night never happened."
"That's good. Thanks." Mulder actually sounded grateful.
//What must it be like to have to keep such a terrible secret, one
that would make you lose everything if it got out?// "See you
tonight? Well, one of you."
Mulder sighed. "Fox is looking forward to it."
Part VII—Low
Mulder sat in the near-dark, too tired to turn on the light but also
too tired to sleep. Only the little bit of light coming in from the
window kept the apartment from being as dark as it had been
hiding under those leaves in the Siberian forest, praying no one
would find him. As dark as the alien oil that had invaded his
body...
When that oil well had started to erupt later, Mulder had felt a
shock of deep terror at the sight of the black stuff spewing at him.
Not even the threat of getting blown to hell immediately afterward
had scared him that badly.
His mind chased itself in circles. He tried so hard not to think
about Alex... so of course he couldn't help himself. Every thought
of every recent brush with death twined with memories of Alex.
Every thought of betrayal.
Every memory of being briefly loved by someone who wasn't a
part of himself. Had that ever been real?
Mulder knew he should have trusted his doubts and never gotten
involved in that relationship. If he'd been smart, maybe he
wouldn't feel like someone had ripped his soul out, and Fox
wouldn't be weeping quietly in a dark corner. William had been
right. Yet, instead of gloating, he was silent and still in a way that
scared Mulder.
Mulder's eyes felt burned and dry. Tears had been, as always,
useless. They just made him feel worse, sicker. Weak.
He heard knocking at the door. He shouldn't get it, not while he
was in this state. He didn't want anyone to see him like this.
But he needed to get out of this hole for at least a little while...
Mulder slowly pulled himself to his feet.
//This is a big mistake.// Daniel Pendrell knocked at the door
anyway. Apartment #42. He wondered if Michael or any of the
others were Douglas Adams fans. Probably.
The door opened just a crack to reveal a sliver of face and one very
reddened eye. It blinked at him a few times. "Go away, Pendrell.
Michael's not coming out to play tonight," Mulder said softly. His
voice sounded like it had been dragged over stones.
//Has he been crying?// "I'm concerned about you too."
"Like hell. You just want to see if you can pry any information out
of me."
"The rumors going around have been pretty wild," //Never mind
that weirdness with the rock I saw for myself.// "but I'm not the
gossiping type. Besides, it's not so unusual to try to get in good
with your lover's family."
"And that's me?"
"You and whoever else is in there. We need to talk."
To Danny's surprise, Mulder gave in immediately. "Sure, but not
here." Total, weary surrender didn't bode well for Mulder's state
of mind.
Michael had mentioned once that the apartment was bugged. After
that, Danny had started to check his own and recently found one.
People really were out to get Mulder.
"I know a safe place," Danny said.
Mulder sighed. "Let me get ready."
The door opened a bit more onto almost complete darkness. The
thought of Mulder sitting in the dark brooding on whatever had
happened over the last few, mysterious days sent a chill into
Danny's heart. Standing out in the hallway, he wondered again, as
he'd wondered over and over while Mulder had been missing, if
being involved with them was a good idea.
Mulder put on black sneakers and a leather jacket, then left with
Danny in silence. The drive passed similarly, with Mulder quiet
and looking too worn out to move. The flashes of light from
passing cars on his face revealed a serious gash on his forehead
and the evidence of an extended crying jag. Michael had always
said that Mulder was the one who dealt with the pain...
Danny pulled the car into the driveway and spent three minutes
struggling with the locks on the front door. Aunt Deirdre and
Uncle Justin had replaced them a year after they got the house. //A
little over a year after Mom and Dad had died, leaving it to
them...// Danny swallowed down the lump in his throat. It was
stupid to still cry about it three years after the car accident.
Once Danny had the door closed behind them, Mulder asked,
"Where are we?"
"My aunt's house. She and her husband took the kids on vacation
for a week, so I'm taking care of it and the cats."
It always jarred him to see his aunt and uncle's furnishings
intermingled with his parents'—the furniture he'd grown up with.
He figured that being uncomfortable here would put him on equal
ground with Mulder, who seemed to be off-balance already.
Besides, there was no way in hell he'd even think of putting a
move on Mulder in his parents' house.
Same body or no, Michael and Mulder were two very different
people. Danny never forgot that. His attraction to Mulder had a
different source. But that didn't make it any less wrong...
He loved Michael too deeply to cheat with anyone else. He just
had to remind his treacherous groin of that.
As he led Mulder to his parents' favorite couch, the one that had
one of Grandma's afghans draped over the back, he fought off the
furry obstacles throwing themselves around his ankles. Stormy,
Misty, Morris Q. Pussycat, and Shadow Skitty all knew that
someone coming in the door meant food and intended to show him
how deeply they loved him. Once he fed them, he lost much of his
attraction.
Then he came home to his own cat, who threw jealous fits at
smelling others on him. Fortunately, Mr. Whiskers was too old to
get really nasty. But she could be terribly subtle...
"If you trip me and I break my neck, you won't get any food!"
Danny protested, and Mulder laughed a little. It made Danny
smile. "All right, furballs, I'm going to the kitchen. Do you want
the chicken or the Deep Sea Delight?" As Danny headed for the cat
food, a river of fur followed. "I'll be right back, Mulder."
Danny returned to find Mulder still sitting on the couch but with a
picture frame in his hand. "Is your family trying to keep the
redhead strain going single-handed?"
//He wants to avoid the subject. Too bad.// "You can talk here,
Mulder. No bugs."
"Why would I want to talk?"
"Because you have no one else to confide in. Agent Scully doesn't
know—"
"How do you figure that?"
"I know her. A little. If she knew, you wouldn't be working right
now. She'd make you get help."
Mulder looked so sad. "Once you're officially crazy, people can
do anything to you. If you try to get help against the abuse, they
can just tell your intended rescuers that you're crazy, imagining it
all... How long do you think I'd survive, considering my
enemies?"
"I never thought about it that way."
"I consider my options once in a while." Mulder looked down.
"Besides, I did confide in someone, and it didn't help me. In fact...
he betrayed me."
"But I won't. I can tell that what you've just been through is
eating you alive. Just what I know scares the hell out of me.
The organism in that confiscated rock, the days you disappeared,
Agent Scully facing a Senate subcommittee and being held in
contempt of Congress... Something big happened, then got swept
under the rug. The evidence vanished, and all the people who were
involved are dead or missing."
"People have died for knowing some of the things I know."
"But no one will realize I know. Tell me, Mulder. I won't pass
judgment, no matter what you say."
Mulder spoke without ever looking up, instead his eyes watched
his fingers trace patterns over the faded denim on his thighs. His
voice ensnared Danny in a nightmarish spell as he described events
in ways that somehow let the younger man see them. The horror,
pain, fear, betrayal... Danny now knew how it felt to be faced with
death and mutilation repeatedly over a short period of time, to be
betrayed terribly by someone he loved. He'd picked up on that too
despite Mulder's efforts to hide it. //You loved Krycek, and he
gave you to the horror of the experiments. It's amazing you can
trust me at all.//
By the end, tears flowed silently down Mulder's face. Danny
pulled him near and held him. He tried to pull away, but Danny
said, "It's okay. I won't hurt you." He shuddered a bit, then turned
his face into the younger man's neck. He seemed to be trying to
slow and even out his breathing. "You're just tired, Mulder.
Anyone would be a mess after what you've been through."
//I was a mess, and I wasn't even sure what was going on with
you.// Danny had been dying to know for sure for months whether
Michael was a splinter of Special Agent Mulder, but he'd never
wondered what the side effects of having that knowledge would
be. Mulder threw himself into deadly situations. When he'd
disappeared, he, of course, took Michael with him. Danny had
spent days in terror wondering if they'd ever get back.
This wouldn't be the last time, either. This was Fox Mulder's life;
when he didn't fling himself into danger, he had danger looking for
him.
With the secret nature of their relationship—well, secret aside from
whoever had planted the bug in Danny's apartment—Danny
wouldn't even know Michael was dead until news of Mulder's
death filtered through the bureau.
//I'd thought dealing with the mental illness would be hardest. Am
I strong enough to come to terms with this too?//
Danny's hands slid under the leather to stroke across the worn
cotton of Mulder's sweatshirt before finding their way to warm
skin. They glided over his spine, vertebra by vertebra. Mulder—at
least Danny thought it was Mulder—sighed and relaxed a little,
which made him feel better too. The terror and anxiety of the past
few days slowly dissolved under the welcome human contact. He
didn't know when they started to kiss, when their arms tightened
around one another...
//I'm making out on my parents' couch with someone forbidden,
just like I'm some damned teenager.// But the thought only made
Danny harder.
Then Mulder went stiff in his arms. //Oh God, time to stop.//
Before Danny could let go, he was knocked away to the other end
of the couch. As he struggled to catch a breath, he looked up into
eyes like black ice. Hands like steel manacles pinned his to the
couch.
"Just when you start to earn a little trust, you do something stupid.
Why is that, Daniel?"
William.
Usually William had to seize control. This time Mulder had flung
it to him in a panic, begging him to take over, save them from this
mess. It should have warmed what little heart he had to hear one
of the boys admitting that he was right, that he was needed.
"I was... was about to pull away..." Danny said.
"It shouldn't have started to begin with."
None of this should have. He'd always let Fox have his little one-
night stands because the kid couldn't function as well without
them. The boy would get his small fix of faux affection and be
content for a while.
Daniel Pendrell had gotten under Fox's skin too quickly for
William to anticipate and stop. William had never thought the boy
would need anyone that much, or after so short a time. If he'd
been wise, he would have forced an end to the romance
immediately, hurt Fox a little in the beginning to spare the kid
greater pain in the future. But he'd been too soft-hearted, too
happy to see the boy so elated, and failed to take matters into his
own hands, as he should have.
Despite all the odds, Fox had changed due to that relationship,
and it was all Daniel's fault.
William thought of the scars Alex Krycek had left on Mulder.
He'd taken control of things too late. [Everything went wrong
despite me...] There was no way in hell he was going to let
anyone else play with his boys.
"It ends here, tonight," William said.
Daniel got an odd look in his eyes. "He says I'm good for him."
William only barely restrained the urge to shake the little bastard.
"Fox is desperate for love. He wouldn't know `good for him' if it
bit him on the ass. If you were as kind as you think you are, you
would have broken it off with him as soon as you found out what
we are. Driven him home instead of letting him stay over and fall
into bed with you."
"I care about him. If I had sent him packing when I found out
about all of you, it would have hurt him badly."
"Not as much as you'll hurt him in the future." [Everyone leaves,
sooner or later, whether they want to or not.] "Besides, this can't
end well, Daniel. We're fucked up." William's hands tightened on
Danny's wrist. "I'm not going to stand by while you fuck with
Mulder too, especially when he's already down and vulnerable.
Back away."
[You're involved with Fox, you're involved with all of us, and you
don't even know us. Maybe you think you do, but you're
wrong. I'm the first, the memory and common sense. Mulder's
the breadwinner and whipping boy. Baby is the voice of our pain.
Are you even aware of Baby? Fox Mulder was the great futile
hope for normality. Fox is the intrepid seeker after a true-blue love
that doesn't exist in this world who'll settle for any scrap of
affection he can get from a one-night stand. But you see only what
you want to see...]
William smiled. "How much do I have to scare you to make you
see sense?"
"Michael has told me about you, you know."
William looked through his memories to see exactly what the kid
had said and was appalled. Fox had told of a personality forced to
become hard and cold and grow up too fast to deal with the burden
of its memories and protect its younger brothers. The one who
never got any love. That kind of nonsense inspired sneers or pity,
when all William had ever wanted was respect or fear. Who knew
what kind of stupid conclusions the labrat had come to based on
that?
"Fox romanticizes everything. It's his nature." William felt
delicate bones start to grind under his grip. "This isn't about me
anyway."
Pendrell winced and briefly bit his lip but kept on anyway. "Do
you know why you don't feel for other people?"
This had to be stopped. "Because I'm a fucking sociopath?"
"Because you're terrified of getting hurt or the others getting hurt.
But it doesn't have to be that way. Has anyone ever held you?"
"You think life is so simple?"
"You can't hurt me. The others would never forgive you. All you
can do is..." Daniel did the last thing William would have
expected; he pulled his attacker down toward him.
William saw it coming and knew he wouldn't be able to stop it in
time. Panicked, he tried to dive under to avoid it, but the others
wouldn't let him.
/I remember another couch when you popped up despite all your
promises. Live with it./
[You actually enjoy this, so why don't you take over?]
/I wouldn't miss this for the world./
//I'm not jumping in either,// Mulder said. //Deal with it.//
A soft voice, rarely heard, said, ||I'm futile. There's nothing I can
do.||
Usually Fox Mulder was just a shadow, a veil, that barely qualified
as a personality. For him to come out... It was like hearing your
dog talk to you.
||You're not helping yourself.||
Baby could take it. Wouldn't that be a pleasant surprise for the
labrat?
/Too late./
Then Daniel Pendrell had William tightly clasped in his arms.
William twitched helplessly, unable to break free without seriously
hurting his captor. The hug was heat and pressure, a manacle, a
claim of ownership. The others' memories flashed through his
mind for comparison: Mom's absent-minded loose clasps, Dad's
evil lust, Phoebe's steel-clawed possession, all the pick-ups who
pretended love through their touches, Patterson's steel-armed
ownership, Matheson's caresses like the hugs a man would give
his favorite dog, Scully's concerned embraces, her clutching-him-
tightly-as-an-anchor clasps. The last memory was from a boy two
decades dead as the bad things gripped him and started to fasten
him to a metal table...
When William broke free of Pendrell's grasp at last, he almost
tumbled off the couch from the force of his escape, but he
managed to remain upright somehow. He stared down at Daniel,
who had such a stupidly expectant look on his face. "What was
that supposed to do? Was I supposed to see flights of angels?
Realize the error of my ways? It did nothing but show me how
stubbornly dangerous you are."
William backed toward the door and got himself out of the house
as soon as possible. The late November cold hit like a shock, but
they would warm up once they started moving. He immediately
took up a fast but measured run, pacing himself. He'd memorized
the route Pendrell had taken to get here, but he only intended to
find a place he could call a cab from. Given Mulder's life, they
always stashed a small wad of cash in a few different items of
clothing just in case they got taken at an odd time. The leather
jacket had $100 in ten dollar bills in an inside pocket.
William hated having to leave like that, but he knew he wouldn't
be able to make a dent on Pendrell, not tonight.
/Not ever!/
[Shut up! It's necessary.]
Fox felt rebellious, and Fox had been gaining power lately...
William could beat on Krycek and easily maintain his even keel.
Daniel Pendrell... he was far more dangerous and got under
William's skin like no one had since Dad.
And emotion was dangerous...
If dying had scared William at all, he would have locked Mulder
away years ago. What terrified him was dying alone, with the
others going on without him after they bled him dry. It had almost
happened once. During the near-integration, the emerging
personality had started to devour him alive, cannibalizing him for
what it wanted to use, with the intention of jettisoning the rest.
The machinations of the Consortium and the stress they'd caused
had halted the process, but William had been left weaker and with
pieces of himself missing.
And with a terror he'd never felt before and a determination to
make sure it never happened again.
William had tried to ride herd on the others more sternly, keep
them in their assigned roles, but he hadn't been as strong as he had
once been, and Fox and Mulder now united against him at times.
Their alliance had prevented him from having any real say in the
decision to rescue Krycek, and all he could do was console himself
with the sure knowledge that it would all turn out to be a disaster
and prove him right. It had taken a while and almost gotten them
mutilated and killed in the process, but it had worked, and Mulder
wouldn't be trying anything like that again for a long while.
William could never have anticipated this thing with Daniel, never
expected that one pick-up, initially like so many of Fox's others,
would lead to such a strong emotional bond so quickly. Abetted
by Mulder, Fox was using the relationship to change and grow
stronger. Even if William managed to put an end to it now, the
damage had been done.
He refused to be helpless; he couldn't be. He'd honed and beaten
himself into something cold and deadly to protect the babies. The
fact that those babies now hacked at him changed nothing. He had
a purpose, and he would achieve it even if he had to go against
their wishes to do it. For their own good.
/We're too tired to do this. We have to go back./
[I know why you want to go back. No.]
/We have to./
Fox's shove hurt, but William had to be strong. Fox couldn't look
out for his own interests here, so big brother would have to save
the day again. [No.]
/Mulder, you have to stop this./
//I don't know what's right.//
[We're too fatigued to deal with him the way we should. Fox, he
put the moves on Mulder!]
/He saw Mulder hurt and wanted to comfort him. I felt that it was
really thoughtful. He was going to back off when Mulder balked
anyway./
William sighed at the reminder that he didn't instinctively
understand the way Fox thought. The stupid kid's first impulse
was still to think that sex solved everything. William also
realized that they'd stopped moving and were now standing still
and looking dumbstruck on the sidewalk.
[We can discuss this tomorrow when we're more rested.]
/We're discussing it now!/ Fox sounded frightened beneath the
petulance. The gulag cell had scared the hell out of him, reminded
him of the basement. Now he would want some kind of physical
affection to ground and calm him.
It couldn't come from Daniel Pendrell. William fought Fox's next
shove and just said, [No.]
//Please don't fight...//
Danny had run for the car as soon as the shock wore off. He'd
managed to screw things up with Mulder and William; hell, he
probably would have messed Michael up too if his lover had
shown. He would never forget the way William had closed his
eyes and gone rigid in his embrace, as if gripped by something
horrible and incomprehensible. //Yeah, Danny, you know
everything. You're an idiot.//
Figuring... they? might have memorized the route, he found them
five minutes and ten blocks later. They stood rooted to the ground,
shivering and occasionally twitching their head. The head shake
looked a bit like a seizure.
Danny rolled down the window and yelled, "Michael!" No effect.
"Fox!"
Trembling, Michael? turned to face him. "Danny, I'm so glad you
came. Could you take me back? Please?" The accent, posture, and
look of shining entreaty all suggested Michael.
Danny could swear he saw a sheen of sweat on Michael's face.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Danny squirmed. "That thing with Mulder earlier, I'm so sor—"
"It's okay. Really. I sometimes get the urge to stroke him into a
better mood myself.
Danny tried as hard as he could to forget he'd ever heard that last
sentence. "Get in." They were complicated and difficult to deal
with, but he couldn't just throw them away for it. He was just
tired, that was all.
//I just have to try harder and be more careful with them. I love
Michael too much to do anything else.//
Fox sighed and snuggled closer to Danny. He had an afghan
wrapped around him, his lover's warmth at his back, and a purring
cat on either side. He leaned into the hand stroking his hair.
"So, everything's really... okay?" Danny asked softly.
Fox twined his fingers through Morris' fur and buried all the
terrors of the last few days. He wouldn't think about the gulag cell
or his misjudgment of Alex's character. He wouldn't let the
memory leakages from Mulder—who, as usual, had faced the most
frightening bits solo—upset him. Repression was good for the soul.
Fox had left Mulder to cry, brood, and self-blame all alone after his
first offers of comfort had been rebuffed. Mulder hated to be seen
in a moment of weakness and didn't accept help very gracefully.
Fox's every attempt to soothe William had failed miserably too, as
William had shied away from every overture like an animal who'd
been beaten too many times to accept the next hand that came at
him.
/William, I'm so sorry. I never realized.../ William refused to
answer.
Fox closed his eyes. "We're okay, Danny. We're tough. We're
just... just having a really bad night." /We'll survive. We always
have before./
THE END
To Have, to Own, to Hold
by Viridian5
"And inside, inside is war all the time"
—"Lilith/Eve" by Machines of Loving Grace
And you hate to face this world alone
So you're searching for an angel
Someone who can make you whole...
I can't even save myself...
So save yourself
Your soul has suffered such abuse
But I am not your savior
I am just as fucked as you..."
Forgotten by the world, forgotten to myself
Your effervescent eyes have awakened me
And brushed the dust away..."
—"Waking Up Beside You" by Stabbing Westward
And let my body do the talking"
Other voices,
Pounding in my broken head.
Commit the sin.
Commit yourself.
And all the other voices said,
Change your mind.
You're always wrong,
Always wrong..."
—"Other Voices" by the Cure
