This is the sixth in a series of one! They just keep on wanting to break my
heart! There's going to be at least one more after this.

Disclaimer: 1013 and Chris Carter own the characters. I do not. However I'm
completely broke so if you sue, you'll get nothing.

Rated NC17 for Male/Male interaction and some S/M. No way is this meant for
kiddies.

Thanks and hugs go to lots of people. Firstly, Nicole, who sent me lots of
suggestions as to how a dom can punish a sub. Very useful! Then there's
Aries who encourages with howls! Finally, and I owe them a lot, my beta
readers, who wade through the inconsistencies of plot and grammar to try and
make sense of my outpourings. Orithain, Frankie and Paula, thank you.

Feedback: I'm a feedback slut...will do anything for it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Booze Brothers 6: "One for the Road"

by Dr. Ruthless

*********************************************************

//How could I have done that? How could I have let him make me do that?//

//I'm so ashamed!//

I shove Alex off my back, wriggling out from under him to turn on the lamp
beside the bed. He rolls bonelessly to lie on his back, his arm flung out so
it hangs over the edge of the mattress. Looking at him, he appears
incredibly innocent in his sleep. His long, curling lashes feather on his
cheeks, his carefully bowed lips are parted. He is snoring slightly. My
heart jumps painfully as I take in the beauty of him.

He has terrible bruises all over his body. Yesterday he went "out of town"
and came back late in the night. He was bruised and bloody and has not told
me why, preferring to brush it off rather than share with me. Then he took
me to Spender's, and I became some kind of whore. I don't know how or why. I
can't even think about it now. It wasn't me. It couldn't have been me. How
did he make me do it? I don't know how I can stay with him any more. I want
to wake him. I want to shake him until his teeth rattle in his head. I want
to sink my fist into his stomach, hitting him and hitting him until he
vomits.

//How could he do that to me?//

I don't wake him. There's no time. I have to be at work for a meeting in an
hour, and as it is, I will be late, but a sick feeling struggles its way
from the pit of my stomach as I think about the things I did last night. I
must have been mad.

What is it that he does to me that makes me so crazy I will behave like the
cheapest slut? I love him, but I can't keep him. I have to talk to him, but
I can't do it now. I put my hand to his face, caressing the slack jaw and
feeling the stubble of his growing beard. He nestles blindly into my hand,
and once again I feel my heart thump. Impulsively I bend and brush his lips
with mine, feeling the softness of his mouth against me.

He mumbles "Fox" and turns towards where I usually lie, feeling for me.
Failing to find me, he gropes until his hand finds my pillow and then pulls
it into an embrace, burying his face into it, and moaning faintly. I want to
climb back into bed and hold him close. I want to fuck the life out of him.
A tear falls from me to splash on his shoulder, sparkling in the low light.

I put on my clothes and go off to work, leaving him asleep.

*******************

Scully greets me with coffee, and we head into Kersh's office. The meeting
is long and boring. I have plenty of time to think over the things I did
last night. Scully is watching me strangely. She knows that there is
something amiss. I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to talk to anyone
except Alex.

We are dismissed to go about our routine tasks. Why, oh, why are they making
me go down to the basement to root through old files on today of all days.
Do they know?

//My God! Supposing Spender has told them about last night.//

I sit at my desk, idly tossing pencils at the ceiling as I gather up my
nerve to sneak down to the basement, running the gauntlet past the office
that houses the X-Files. Finally, Scully snaps at me, and I rise reluctantly
and go to the stairs.

Today descending into the basement of the Hoover Building feels like
descending into hell. I want to be anywhere but here. Brave Sir Fox moves
swiftly past the closed door behind which lies the dragon, AKA Special Agent
Jeffrey Spender. I don't have my coconuts with me, and there are no
minstrels singing my praise, but the situation feels so surreal that I
expect them to show up at any moment.

With breath bated, I steal along the corridor, finally making it through
into the file stacks without waking the dragon that lies sleeping behind the
door marked X. I feel lightheaded and crouch down for a minute, my head in
my hands. I want to cry. Oh, God! Alex, what have you done to me?

My cell phone rings, and I grab it quickly to stop the tone from attracting
anyone else's attention. I am behaving strangely, I know, but I can't face
Spender right now.

It's Alex on the line, wanting to know how I am. I cut him short, telling
him that I'll be home early tonight and that we have to talk. He suddenly
seems to realize that I'm unhappy because he asks me what the matter is. I
can't play games with him, and what I have to say to him can only be said in
person. I end the call and put my phone away, turning it off before I do so.
I can't be talking aloud down here. Spender might hear and know it's me.

Lunchtime comes and goes. I complete my work and prepare to make the
pilgrimage to the surface once more. I am laden with files and know that I
will drop them right outside that office of the X-Files. It's just that type
of a day! There is a dreadful sense of certainty that accompanies me on my
expedition. I suppress the urge to run as I pass the ominous door, and as I
finally round the corner and get to the stairs, I do break into a brisk
trot.

Returning to my desk, I can see with great relief that Scully has gone out.
Her coat and purse are not visible. I exhale gustily. Maybe I will make it
through the day after all.

Five p.m. comes around, and I have absolutely no desire to hang about today.
I grab my coat, leave behind all my record checks, my reports and my
throwing pencils and head out of the building as fast as I can manage
without appearing unseemly. As I am passing through the security point, I
see Spender coming towards me from the basement. He has not seen me yet, and
I cut short my usual banter with the guard and scurry to the elevator and
the security of my car.

****************************

I arrive home earlier than I have done in months. As I open the door to go
into my apartment, I can feel my gut clenching, and waves of nausea threaten
to overtake me. Whatever is going to happen now, I know we are both going to
hurt forever.

When I get into the living room, I discover that he's cleaned and tidied.
It's spotless and smells deliciously of wax polish and lemon. There is
something cooking that sends tendrils of fragrance out to tickle my
nostrils. Having missed out on lunch totally, my stomach instantly starts to
rumble, and I salivate like a fool. I look for Alex, but he's nowhere to be
seen. Sinking onto the couch, I bury my head in my hands.

Five minutes after I arrive, he comes flying in through the door awkwardly
carrying a couple of grocery bags. He sees me and stands, uncertain.

"Fox! Oh, I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to be out when you came home, but
we ran out of milk, and I needed it to make....." He runs down like a
clockwork toy and just stands there, looking at me. His face, which had been
smiling in greeting, slowly loses its smile, and he clutches his groceries
to him like a security blanket. Very slowly, he takes them into the kitchen,
dumps them and comes back to stand in front of me like a little child
awaiting censure form the school principal.

I look at him bleakly, and he drops to his knees in front of me, shuffles
forward between my knees and throws his arm around my neck. He buries his
face into my shoulder, pressing himself hard against me. There we sit. I
want to hold him, but I can't. I want to pull him to me and kiss the breath
out of him, but if I do, everything will carry on the same, and it mustn't.
I have to end it.

I have to cut this heat out of me before it grows to take me over. I'm not a
cruel man, but I can feel the need to hurt him growing inside me. I sit,
arms limp by my sides, and let this man that I love, suffer against me, and
I cannot respond. Tears begin to fall from my eyes, and I blink and blink,
but there are too many to blink away. Gradually my eyes spill over, and the
tears fall onto Alex's neck. Finally he looks up and sees me crying.

"Fox, oh, Fox!" He licks at my tears, swiping them from my face, and then
kisses me tenderly. I can feel in that moment what it will cost us both to
part, and I am truly sorry. "Why, Fox? What happened to us between yesterday
and today? I love you so much." His voice is harsh with his own unshed
tears. I can see them welling a little, but Alex Krycek never cries.

"I told you before that it was not going to work. We'd have done better
never to start this. It hurts too much to go on." I must sound bitter. All I
can feel is sorry for myself.

I sit, turning my face away from him, turning the knife in him. There are
tears rolling down my face now, and I can't talk any more for the gasping
sobs that are welling up from somewhere within. He holds me closer, pulling
my head around until his lips can fix onto mine and slide to their appointed
position. Our mouths fit together. They know we belong with one another.
Docking procedure complete! He pushes his tongue forward to tease me,
licking the inside of my lips and then moving in to taste my tongue. His
hand is on the back of my neck, and his body is pressed hard on mine. He
tries so hard to have me kiss him back that I start to struggle free. I
can't do this! Don't make me. I'm so brittle I will break.

As I start to fight, he lets me go, pulling away to study my tears without
comprehending. His hand comes up to my cheek where he gently thumbs away the
moisture. Then, voice thick with emotion, he asks:

"Why?"

"Alex. Where were you yesterday?" I'm trying to sound calm and rational, but
it's a sham. I'm adrift on a racing river of guilt and misery. It will drown
me and Alex both. "Why did you make me do those things at Spender's place?
Oh, God! I'm so afraid of what I'm turning into."

"Fox!" His voice is soft, he's practically whispering. "Fox, baby, I didn't
make you do a damned thing. You could have stopped it at any time. I admit I
took you there, but you enjoyed it. I know you did, and one day, when you
admit that to yourself, you will be free. As for where I went yesterday, I
went to pay a debt. I wanted to make sure you wouldn't suffer because of me.
Fox, please don't do this to meto us. I warn you now, that I can't live
without you. I've done all the loneliness I can handle. If you don't want
me, I won't go on alone."

He's sitting back on his heels, still so close that I can feel his breath on
my cheek as I sit, eyes closed, face averted. I can't look at him. He leans
in and gently lays his cheek against mine. His short hair tickles my nose,
and I'm fighting the urge to turn and lick his mouth. I know he means what
he says. Life has never been kind to him, and he owes it nothing. I picture
him putting a gun to his mouth, and I can't take it any more. I need him too
much. I could live without him, knowing he was still out there, my one
truth. Were he to die, my truth would die with him and all my tomorrows too.

//God, what a pair of losers we are!//

Slowly, so slowly I feel seasons changing, my arms float up of their own
accord and slip around his shoulders to pull him in to my embrace. He
whispers "I love you," into my ear, and I have no defenses against that. One
hand goes up to wind through his hair, and the other strokes down over the
strong back muscles to cup his ass, pulling him sharply against me.

I feel him tremble against me as I tighten my grip, and then he sighs, melts
into me, and turning his head, kisses me again, hard, hot, greedy with
passion. Once again his tongue probes for mine, and this time mine rises to
meet it. Our tongues tangle and twine, and he leans forward to press against
me, bearing me back against the couch where he pins me down, writhing
between my legs, the friction sending delicious little bolts of lightning
through my groin. I hold his head against me, locking that kiss in place
while I thrust my hips, trying for more pressure, more friction, going from
abject misery to the most incredible feelings of lust all in the space of
five short minutes.

I'm such a weakling. I can't push him away and leave. My own body is
betraying me even now. I can't imagine my life without him, so I guess that
I'm lost.

He rolls to sit beside me on the couch, and his arm goes around me as I sit
in a daze. He pulls me to sit across his legs and pillows my head in the
angle of his arm while his lips graze my hair; I'm sitting in his lap now,
and he's cradling me, soothing and stroking me. He murmurs sweet words of
love and encouragement to me while I sit, and for a while I forget that this
man is a killer for hire.

"Fox, baby, you came with me last night, and I thank you for that. You were
so beautiful, so hot I was just about creaming my jeans all the time.
Spender won't be a problem. He wants you as much as I do. I'll bet that he
would give you anything you asked him for, just for a kiss and a spanking.
What we did to Spender last night was fun, just fun. He liked it, I promise
you he did. I can't believe how gorgeous you were. I'd give you anything
myself after that!"

He lowers his head and grazes my mouth with his lips, tightening his arm
around me and moving to lick my tears away.

"I don't understand why I did that, Alex. Why would I want to?" Alex laughs
a little.

"Why not? If you can, why wouldn't you? I mean it! You could have anything!
Don't you like to feel powerful?" His tongue licks at the corner of my mouth
and then wanders down to lap at my throat. "I'll give you anything you
want."

"Well, that's tough, I want a grey alien, anddinner would be good. I
skipped lunch and I'm starving!" I essay a watery smile, and he squirms to
stand up, taking me by the hand to lead me into the kitchen in an allegory
that reflects the way our relationship is going.

"Come on, baby, if food is all you want, that's easy, I've been cooking."

**********************************************

After dinner, I'm changed, and we're sprawled out on the couch together,
drinking Dos Equis and watching "Spinal Tap". He has seen it. I have not.
Alex constantly guffaws and tells me about scenes that are about to come up,
that he insists are really funny. He continues on describing them to me even
though I ask him to stop. I ask. I beg. Finally, I grab a cushion with which
to smother the irritating bastard and dive on him, tickling and yelling.

He fights dirty does my Alex. Despite my two arms, I suddenly find myself
losing the battle, and in short order he topples me from the couch, landing
on top of me as the breath is knocked from my body. His hand is on my
throat, and he throttles me. I feel the blood rushing in my ears as I start
to lose consciousness. Laughing, he releases his hold on me and lays his
hand alongside my cheek. His mouth comes down, and his lips open on mine,
forcing them apart to admit his tongue again. As he kisses me, sucking my
tongue into his mouth and using his own to tease, it suddenly dawns on me
that Alex beat me easily, and with only one arm. Maybe he is not the
slightly flawed, weak man I have always thought him. He just might have been
allowing me to abuse him for the last several years. This suspicion sends a
thrill like cold water down my spine.

"Alex, have you been letting me beat you up for the last couple of years?
Why? Why did you let me?" He gives me his sunniest smile and shows no sign
of wanting to move from his position on my chest. He grinds his pelvis into
mine, and I respond with instant hardness, thrilling again to feel him.

"I betrayed you. I hurt you, and I felt that I had to pay for it. I wanted
you to hurt me, to kill me. Do you remember when I told you to finish it in
Hong Kong Airport? I wanted you to kill me that night. It felt like the only
way we would ever get the balance redressed. If you had shot me there when I
asked you to, you would have made me happy, Love. I couldn't see any other
future for me." He dips his head to run the tip of his tongue delicately
around the whorls of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I picture Hong
Kong airport. I could have shot him. The anger I felt that day rises up like
bile in my throat, and I remember. One single shot into his gut would have
left him gasping out his last agonies as his blood washed away the death of
my father. I close my eyes and hold him to me convulsively, seeking out his
mouth and covering it with mine as I try my best to erase the images of Alex
lying, dying while I watch with satisfaction.

"Oh, my God! I could have killed you. You were going to let me do it." He's
still looming over me like a predator, and I feel slightly nervous. Gone at
present is the diffident man who cleaned my apartment, and unaccountably in
his place is a wild, feral being who makes me nervous.

//He wanted me to kill him!//

He rolls slightly to one side, propping himself up with his fake arm, and
allows his fingers to slide down my body, unfastening my jeans and reaching
in to find my erection. Hauling it out to face the TV set, he holds it
tightly by the base and squeezes it, making me want to fold up in the
middle. I groan and arch backwards, and he smiles his predatory smile before
darting his head down to find my nipple through my shirt and bite it
sharply, making me yell.

His hand is busy, sliding up and down, squeezing my cock and sending the
sweet tingling rush from my spine to my balls. I can feel the tight
heaviness that means I am going to come soon, and I gasp out "Alex, stop.
I'm going to come and I don't want to come just yet. I want to feel you in
me when it happens."

"No, you won't come, baby, I won't let you." He smiles a smile of pure evil.
"You frightened me today. It's payback time, and you're going to do some
suffering tonight." I feel my balls clenching up as the fluid is beginning
to drip from my cock. Alex releases it, and I gasp as he puts his hand up to
stroke my hair and then clench his fist in it, pulling my head down to his.
His mouth fastens hard on mine, and he worries at it, searching out the
sensitive areas inside. He uses his hand in my hair to direct my head to
where he wants it, and his mouth travels the length of my jaw, down my neck
and finally into the sensitive hollow where my collar bone joins my
shoulder. He growls while he is sucking and biting at me, and I cry out in
protest.

Holding my hair tightly still, he pulls his arm back, and my head with it,
to lay my throat open to him, sucking at it until I gasp. He's marking me as
his, and I feel warmth flooding to my belly as I realize it. Still, I play
the game.

"That hurts!" I whine, measuring his mood through veiled eyelashes.

"I know it does." He drags my face to him again and dusts it with tiny,
gentle kisses, running the tip of his tongue over my lips, my eyes, and my
ear. His breath tickles my moist ear, and I shiver. I want him to touch my
cock again, and wriggle suggestively. His hand flickers over it, spreading
the droplets he can see welling from the eye of it and delicately tracing
all the spots he knows are most sensitive. No matter how hard I arch my
back, he won't give me what I want. I need pressure, and all he will do is
tantalize. I fix him with a gimlet stare. He returns it, his attitude
dangerous with arrogance and amusement at my predicament

I am trapped on my back, prisoner of a one-armed assassin who seems to be
able to best me physically in every way. I can't escape him, and I don't
even want to. I want him to fuck me, but he won't. He hovers over me, hard
edged and sparkling, smiling down as he dips to touch me with his lips. His
mouth is becoming my whole world at this point. I never realized how many
ways there were for him to torment me with his mouth.

"I suppose your aim is to drive me completely crazy. Are you trying to turn
me into Spender?"

He rolls over at that point, his hand in my hair forcing me to follow, so
now he is on his back and I am half above him, still captive. He forces my
head down to him, and his mouth glues itself to mine, tongue entering me,
sucking and worrying at me as if I were his next meal. I see his eyes close
as he concentrates on the sensations he is invoking.

After a minute, I follow suit and lower my lids, cutting out my view of his
fine skin and curling lashes, to savor the sensation of lip on moist lip, of
hand sliding over aching skin, and warmth kindling warmth as our bodies
strain together.

Finally, breathless, we separate, and he opens green eyes fringed thickly
with dark curling lashes, the pupils enormous, swallowing up the color and
offering only love to me.

"Spender? Oh, Fox! You'll never be like Spender! You are my equal. He's my
dog!" His busy fingers tug on my cock again, and I bite my lip as the
sensations pulse through me. He is driving me nuts. If I am his equal, he
owes me for this!

"If I'm not your dog, why do I have this overwhelming urge to hump your
leg?" I feel down to cup his denim clad groin. He smacks my hand away with a
chuckle even though I can hear the intake of breath that gives away his
excitement.

"Oh, no you don't! Not yet! I'm saving myself for the one I love!"

"Who do you love?" He takes hold of me and squeezes. I gasp and close my
eyes. Tingling sweetness jolts my cock, and I'm there again, on the brink of
coming. His careful hand is removed to hold my hips still as I try my
damnedest to get myself off against him. I moan.

"Oh, he's a gibbering lunatic. All he can do is whimper like a fool, but I'm
going to teach him!" Once again he snickers as he feels me trembling. "Are
you suffering yet, baby?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and gaze down at his face. I trace his
lips with my pointer finger, sliding it over the moist, smooth plumpness of
his lower lip. He sucks my finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around
it while his hand on my hip stops me from bucking into him.

Behind my head, Spinal Tap comes to an end, and the tape begins to rewind.
Alex starts to sing "Bitch School", and I consider smacking him, but he
takes hold of my balls, and I quickly reconsider

Come on, Baby, let's take this to the bedroom." Alex's husky whisper brushes
over my ears like a silken scarf. He pushes me up and sits, running his hand
into my shirt where he has unfastened it and pinching my nipple. I'm
tingling in anticipation as I get to my feet and extend a hand to yank him
up. He rises up off the floor smoothly and slips his arm around me, nuzzling
my neck very quickly before directing me towards the bedroom.

"Do you realize I never slept in here until you came? You're changing me,
changing my whole life. I used to get about 3 hours sleep a night! Now, I'm
shattered all the time, and I'm getting double that. If I didn't need you so
much myself, I'd bottle you and sell you as a cure for insomnia." he laughs
at my words, nimble fingers plucking away my shirt, unfastening my jeans and
then shoving them down over my hips impatiently. I sit on the edge of the
bed and strip off the rest of my clothing. He climbs up on the bed to kneel
behind me, and as I remove my white undershirt, he leans forward into me,
his fingers digging into my shoulder muscles, hurting at first, then
loosening, massaging until I sigh with the pleasure of his touch.

"Does that feel good to you?" he whispers as I groan and lean back. I nod,
looking up at him, and he drops his head to kiss me again. That hand of his
plays over my nipples, pinching gently, then twisting and pulling, first one
then the other until my breathing quickens and I'm arching my back to
encourage his assault on me. "Come on, move back." He pulls me, and I scoot
backwards until I am in a position to lie in the middle of my bed, at which
point he clambers astride of me and continues his attack on my nipples.

"Do you think you could come just from this? One day I'm going to find out
if you can, but not tonight. Tonight I'm going to do everything to you. You
are going to want to die before I'm through with you, Fox." I'm gazing up at
him, wanting to pull him down on me, but he looks so calm, so assured, that
I nod.

"Do your worst, you fiend! I'll never confess!" I don't know what makes me
say that, but it obviously pleases him mightily, because he gives a whoop
and then laughs wickedly.

"OK, Fox, you asked for it!" He reaches up and grabs a silken cord he has
tucked under his pillow, and takes hold of my hands. Using a complicated
system of loops, he fastens my wrists together one handed and then stretches
my arms above my head to fasten them onto the headboard. I'm now feeling
very vulnerable, and totally turned on. My lover is looking at me with naked
lust in his eyes. His glance travels the length of my body and leaves me
with goose pimples. I'm almost afraid of him when I see how he is watching
me.

His green eyes are hooded, and he looks even more than ever like a great
jungle creature. There is no vestige of the gentle lover who cried with me
earlier on the couch. This man looming over me is a predator. I feel his
sexuality like a perfume around him, and my cock, hard and throbbing, oozes
fluid as I wonder what he will do to me now that I can't resist. I'm so
excited by the thought of him in charge that I don't even notice when he
leaves the bed and disappears from my field of vision.

I do notice when he returns though, because he has a bucket of lime sherbet
with him, and a wooden spatula. He pauses theatrically beside the bed and
looks me up and down. Then, he dumps the bucket down onto my stomach. That
surprises a small squeal out of me. The damn thing is cold!

He chuckles throatily and sits down on the edge of the bed, pulling a spoon
out of his back pocket. Opening the sherbet, he digs in the spoon and tastes
it.

"You know, this is pretty good stuff, Fox, would you like some?" He fills
the spoon and offers it, putting it into my mouth when I open up for him.
He's absolutely right; it is delicious, and for a few minutes we alternately
eat and kiss, swapping cold kisses as he feeds me. I'm relaxed, lying
decadently, legs akimbo, with my cock standing proud. Suddenly, he takes a
mouthful of the sherbet and swoops down to take my penis between his lips,
sucking it in until my eyes bug out and his cold, cold mouth makes me grunt!
I can see his shoulders shaking as he sucks on my newly made popsicle. It
feels exquisite. After the first shock I'm starting to get into it. He is so
good at what he does! His tongue laps at the ridge around the head of my
cock before he sucks the entire head inside his mouth to slide up and down
the shaft. I groan and spread my legs, inviting him to touch me there,
anywhere if he'll just keep up that wonderful, rhythmical lapping. His
tongue swirls around the head and I feel the beginnings of orgasm once more.
So does he, because he pulls his head away and returns to sit beside me,
studying me intently as I try, and fail, to keep my hips still and my
breathing regular.

"Do you confess, Fox?" He grins again. I shake my head. I'm going to sell
myself as dearly as possible. Shrugging, he stands and starts to take off
his clothing. I watch him avidly. He is beautiful, my Alex, even maimed the
way he is. His T-shirt comes off over his head to be discarded negligently
in one corner of the room. He has on his favorite jeans, and they fit him
exactly, the paler patches showing where the fabric has rubbed and worn.
Slowly he opens them to reveal his erection lurking in wait. Standing there
in front of me, his dick poking out of his jeans as tall and erect as a
tower, sparse curls at the base, he looks like a Greek statue. His jeans are
resting just below his hips, and his belly shows white above the brown and
purple of his cock. He is muscular, and the lines of his abdominal muscles
show through the flesh that covers them, before his body gently swells out
to the deep chest and strong shoulders that make him so effective in a
fight. I can see the assorted bruises and scrapes that he came home with
last night, but I can't move to touch them. He turns his back momentarily,
and he has welts on his back and shoulders. It looks as if someone laid his
back open with a whip. I gasp.

"God, Alex, who did that to you? I'll kill them for you. I'll bring them
back here to you bleeding and begging for mercy." He smiles sweetly at me
and moves down to climb between my knees. I look at him again, kneeling in
front of me, and I want to shout to the whole world how much I love this
man. Somehow, I've gone from needing to run away from him at any cost, to
abject groveling as he plays on my body the way a musician would play an
instrument.

He drops down between my knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide on
the bed. I watch as he strokes the inside of my thighs, circling closer and
closer to the impossibly hard and aching column lying between. He cups my
balls and drops down to lick and suck at them, working his way down to my
perineum. He pauses there for a minute, then works his way round to my tight
asshole, where I feel his tongue circle and dip, circle and dip until it
works in past the tightness of the muscle to bring a rush of liquid heat
with it. I'm swearing now. I don't know what I'm saying, but I know it's
obscene, and from time to time I hear his chuckle.

He takes a spoonful of the sherbet, and the cold applied to my anus makes me
scream. I scream again a minute or two later, as all of a sudden he pushes
something cold, really cold in there. I babble at him, begging him to stop,
to please, please fuck me. I call him names, I tell him how much I love him.
He sucks briefly on my cock, and as the sensations gather, coiled, ready to
spill through me, he pulls off again, and I shout. I arch. My head rolls
from side to side, and I promise him anything, anything if he'll just do it
to me. Do it to me however he wants to as long as he does it.

He slowly stretches and then shucks his jeans, standing beside the bed naked
and aroused, droplets of moisture standing out on the head of his penis. He
sits down beside me, his thigh close to my cheek, his fingers tracing my
features idly as he looks at me.

"Promise me you won't just leave me on a whim?" I'm having difficulty
processing thoughts intelligently. I must be gazing at him in confusion.
"Promise me, Fox. Promise me that you won't walk out on me without giving me
a chance to defend myself. Promise me." He's not smiling any more. I'm
beyond speech, aching and shaking with the need for release, and for him.
"Tell me that you won't just walk out on me unless you've stopped loving
me."

I try to talk, but my voice won't seem to get started. I cough and try
again.

"I promise." He glitters a feral smile in my direction, and I see it isn't
enough.

"What do you promise, Fox? Tell it all to me. Come on, Baby, I need to hear
it."

"I promise I won't leave you while I still love you. I promise I'll give you
a chance, I promise. God, Alex, I love you. I really, really love you."
Deathless prose it isn't, but it's obviously what he wants to hear, because
he curls around to lie full length beside me, stroking from my chest down to
my belly, circling my navel and then taking hold of my cock once more. He
strokes it a couple of times and then squirms to kneel between my knees once
again, pulling my legs up and my knees apart until I am totally spread for
him and completely vulnerable. His fingers are busily applying lube to his
own twitching penis, and I overdose on the sight of him there, hooded eyes,
intent expression, flushed cheeks and mine, whatever I might think of the
arrangement, mine!

He pours more slick onto his fingers and begins to finger my asshole,
slipping in and out, catching my prostate and making me writhe like a
wanton. I'm open to him and am just about to start pleading all over again
when he suddenly puts the head of his dick to my anus, thrusts sharply, and
as I gasp, he is inside me as far as he will go. The heat of him burns after
the cold of the ice, the remains of which are still inside me.

My chest is heaving, and I'm gasping air as I try to take in enough to keep
breathing. I can't move, can't do anything but wait as he kneels, his cock
invading my body and his love invading my soul.

"Please, Love! Please." I'm beside myself. I'm helpless with lust and need.
I suddenly have an insight into how Spender must feel when faced with him.
Mine, I think to myself.

"Mine!"

"Yours," he whispers softly, and starts the slow, twisting drive towards
completion, sliding out of me as far as he can, and plunging home. He fills
me utterly with his heat, his silken, slippery sweet cock driving into me
without cease until once more those tendrils of delicious tingling fire
start coiling up around my abdomen, and I feel myself getting close.

He stops, buried in me, and runs his hand down my thigh to my dick and
finally takes it into his hand. "Are you ready, Fox? Tell me what you want,
and I'll give it to you. Anything, Fox, just tell me."

"I want you, Alex. Fuck me, please, fuck me now. Oh God!" He starts to move,
his hand now joining in as he works my penis with his slippery, squeezing
hand. His cock drives home hard, harder, hardest, and the rhythm is picked
up by the movement of his hand on my dick.

It begins deep inside me, in that place Alex is stirring as he thrusts into
me. Twinges of sensation sparkle outward, lighting my balls on fire,
gathering force and welling up through my belly to turn me rigid. They lock
my muscles into spasm and leave me helpless as bolt after bolt of honeyed
lightning shoots through my penis, spraying white fluid onto my chest and
stomach, covering Alex's hand with sticky whiteness. My whole world is
focused on the surging, prickling, tingling pleasure of it. I am hardly
conscious as Alex groans, spends and collapses forward onto me, sweating and
flushed in the aftermath of orgasm.

We lie, still joined for some undisclosed moments, while I am aware of time
falling like dust around us. His hair is tickling my nose, and his body is
rapidly becoming glued to mine by my come. I can't move my hands to scratch
my nose, and I don't care. I nuzzle into his hair, mouthing it and kissing
him wherever I can touch him. This is something I never experienced before,
the joy of being able to forget my worries in him. I can lose myself so
utterly while we are together that for a short space I am completely
carefree. Sticky, tired and bound, I drift off to sleep

*******************************************

Waking up at midnight, my shoulders are tight and cramped, and I have an
assassin stuck to my front. I moan out loud as I try to adjust my position
so that it doesn't feel quite so much as if someone is sticking a knife into
my back. I don't make much progress. Alex is lying over me, and he is too
heavy for me to budge, but all the heaving and grunting finally wakes him
up, and he jumps, realizing my predicament.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, baby!" He tries to get up and of course we are
virtually glued together by my ejaculate. It rips hairs out of my chest as
we pull apart, and I yelp. Finally, he kneels at the head of the bed and
unfastens my bonds, releasing me and causing me excruciating pain all at the
same time. I bring my arms down to my sides and chafe my wrists, trying to
get the sensation back in them.

Alex, after studying me for a minute, gets up and goes to start the shower.
Whining, I follow him in and step into the cubicle to relish needle sharp
sprays of hot water, and my lover soaping, scrubbing and kneading me while I
stand there, luxuriating in the sensual feelings it engenders.

Shortly, clean again and most of the stiffness gone from between my muscles,
I turn to do the same for him as I stand behind him. It rapidly develops
into a necking session as I explore the smooth curves of him. He's slick
with soap, and we slide our bodies one against the other in the warmth of
the shower, kissing and stroking, relaxed and happy. Finally rinsing each
other off, we step out and I wrap a towel around him, helping him to dry his
back. He tells me that one of the worst things about losing his arm is the
fact that it's so hard to dry his back properly.

We don't bother with towels as we leave the bathroom to go find a snack to
take back to bed. Consequently, we are both naked as we wander through the
living room towards the kitchen. I pass through the door into the living
room a little before Alex and stop short, causing him to crash into my back
and mutter something about getting me fitted with rear brake lights.

Sitting in my living room, on my couch, is Special Agent Jeffrey Spender.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Not very elegant or welcoming but the
best I can do at short notice. Alex steps forward to stand at my shoulder,
and I can feel him bristling, as if he were a cat preparing to arch and
spit. Spender has a slight smile on his face as he idly swings a key back
and forth in his fingers.

"I came to talk to you both. Your boyfriend makes himself so free with my
apartment, I thought I would return the compliment.

"You know what, Jeffy? I always knock. I may barge in when you answer the
door, but I always knock first." Alex has the kind of expression on his face
that I usually associate with stepping in something unpleasantly squishy.
"What do you want here? I didn't tell you that you could come here." His arm
creeps around my waist, and he leans his head into my shoulder as he's
talking. I see Spender's eyes flicker between us, and his face clouds over
as he watches.

"I had to come. I needed to see you."

I have to confess that if I were given a choice, I would prefer not to
involve myself in a confrontation while naked. Spender is sitting on my
couch, clad in denims and leather, while Alex and I are naked and semi-hard
after fooling around in the shower. For some reason I don't feel
intimidated. Alex, as ever, wears nudity the way a lesser mortal would wear
a tux. His body language reflects only scorn for Spender. He does not
attempt to cover himself, quite the opposite in fact. He stands taller, and
his chin goes up in the familiar, arrogant gesture that's typical of him.
I've noticed that when Alex gets mad, his ears pull back in an almost feline
fashion. They are back now, and I can see his anger like a palpable entity
laying over him.

"Whatever it is, say it quickly and go. We were busy." Alex speaks softly,
but his voice is cold.

"Sacha, I need....I...I wanted to talk to you without him." He gestures at
me with his head. "I need to know..."

"Sure you did, Jeff, you came to Fox's apartment to talk to me without Fox!
That makes sense! Well I have to tell you, there is nothing you can say to
me without Fox being present. He and I are one person as far as you're
concerned. You get the total package, or you get nothing. Fox is my lover,
and you will have to accept that or there's nothing for you, nada, zip! Do
you get it?" Alex is still speaking quietly. His husky voice is laden with
contempt, and Spender takes each word like a blow. I can see sick
satisfaction in his eyes and wonder just how this man can survive on the
diet of distress he expects to be fed.

Alex has been idly running his hand up and down my arm as he addresses
Spender, and as he stops speaking, he nuzzles into my neck, running his
tongue over it, then plunging it into my ear. It tickles and makes me
shiver. Half-hard rapidly becomes erect. I utter a small protest, and he
kisses my ear, his breath raising more shudders as it stirs up my senses. I
lean back onto him, knowing that our intimacy is going to turn the knife in
Spender's gut but doing it anyway. I turn my head and his lips meet mine,
tongue lapping and probing visibly. Spender breathes in sharply as we kiss,
and somewhere in my increasingly black soul I feel a twinge of sadness for
him.

I'm not an exhibitionist. I've never had the urge to make love for other
people's edification, but Spender's presence somehow makes me as horny as
I've ever been. I turn into Alex's embrace, press my hard-on up against his
growing erection, and lose myself in his mouth, my whole body responding as
his soft lips burn on mine. There is a choking sound from the couch, and as
we slowly separate, a glance at our audience reveals pain, anger, bitterness
and lust chasing one another across his features.

I move hastily away from Alex and go to sit in an armchair. My knees are
wobbly, and it won't look too good if I faint where I stand. Alex is right
behind me and comes to rest poised beside my chair, eyes glittering and
looking so irritated I expect to see smoke curling from his nostrils.

Spender gets to his feet and stumbles over to us, his hands out to Alex in
supplication. Alex waits until he is virtually standing toe to toe with him
before giving him a punch to the gut that doubles him up, retching.

"Stay down, boy! Stay on your knees."

His hand reaches out to stroke my hair as he speaks, and I smile up at him
to let him know I'm fine. I'm apprehensive of course, but, God help me, I
keep thinking to myself how Alex will protect me. I get up again and go to
stand close to him.

Alex walks around Spender, then comes back to stand beside me. "Come on
then, boy, show us what you've got in there." He puts his hands on his hips
and stands there, a challenge in his attitude. I watch in amazement as
Spender shudders and opens his fly, drawing out an impressive erection for
Alex to examine. He bends down to check it out, getting far closer than he
needs topeering as if he's having trouble seeing it. The damn thing is
likely to shoot straight up his nose, he is so close, but he pretends he
can't quite see it.

"Touch it, Jeff! It's pathetic. Make it grow for us. I can give you five
minutes. Once five minutes are up, I'm sorry, but you have to go." Absently,
Alex's hand finds its way down to my prick, and he starts to play with it,
almost as if he's not thinking about it. He kneads and squeezes at me as he
talks to Spender. Spender is watching in sick fascination, which makes me
harder than steel instantly. Spender takes himself in his hand and starts to
move it over himself. He hisses as his touch starts to take effect. Alex is
kissing his way down my spine and not even watching the sick fuck who's
masturbating for his pleasure. Spender is really working himself now, and
Alex pulls my face around to kiss me noisily.

"God, Fox! You are so damned hot tonight, I can't get enough of you." I know
he's only talking for effect, to make Spender feel small, but even so, I get
thrills up and down my spine when he tells me he wants me.

"Three minutes left, Jeff!" Alex calls as Spender kneels, hand flying. He
groans, and his eyes are fixed on me. He watches my cock avidly, and when
Alex takes hold of it again, and starts to tug on it, Spender begs.

"Please, please" Alex surveys him, and then smiles.

"You want him too, don't you? Come on then, come here." Spender crawls to
us, and Alex places my cock against his lips. I look at Alex, feeling a
little insecure, and he kisses me again, delving into my mouth with his
tongue, nibbling and biting gently. Spender is sucking on my penis while
Alex works on my mouth. Then I feel Alex's careful fingers probing between
the cheeks of my ass, slipping his fingers in past the tight circle of
muscle to slide in and out of me, making the curls of sweet excitement
escalate very quickly. I'm feeling very good now.

Spender is drawing me in right to the root, and Alex suddenly pulls out his
fingers, positioning himself and pushing his cock home inside me. At this
point I feel my knees buckling and end up leaning very heavily on Alex. He
kisses my neck again and murmurs loving words to me.

The feel of the two of them working together on me sends me over the top
very quickly indeed. I'm beginning to thrust and jerk as I climb the last
few millimeters towards orgasm, and then explode into Spender's mouth. He
growls and sucks while Alex pushes himself deep inside my body. I have to
rest for a minute or two. I push Spender off and see that he is close to
coming himself. Alex pulls out of me and moves around to stand beside
Spender. As the man kneeling on the floor suddenly comes, spurting his fluid
over himself, Alex grabs his hair and jerks him backwards, making him fall
to the floor.

"OK, clean yourself up and go. That's all you get."

Spender is still down, fighting for breath, but the look he has fixed on
Alex makes my blood boil. I finally decide to get into the argument.

"Leave it now and go home, Spender. Alex wants me, not you. Go cultivate a
little dignity. Go play with the X-Files and count your blessings." I'm
trying to hurt him. I want him to take his pathos and go. He turns on me
then and yells out a string of obscenities before hurling himself on me. He
throws wild punches that connect only by chance, however, he has me pinned
to my chair, his weight making it difficult to find purchase and throw him
off. I drop my head and bring it up smartly under his chin hearing the
satisfying crack that tells me I've inflicted some damage. He reels back and
sits down suddenly with a whimper. I see there is suddenly blood flowing
from inside his mouth.

"You have to go now, Jeff, we'll see you in a couple of days if you like,
but not right now." Alex is still quiet, and he's wearing a pirate smile
that would make my blood run cold if it were directed at me. Spender gets up
and howling, runs at Alex. Alex, off guard, is bowled over, and the two of
them go down, rolling, grappling on the floor. I sigh and get up, moving to
try and separate the two of them before someone gets really, physically
hurt.

Spender is slim and wiry, and apparently very strong. He is putting up a
fight from the look of things, and Alex is still on the bottom of the heap,
at a disadvantage because our uninvited guest has winded him. He suddenly
laughs up at Spender and sticks out his tongue to lick at the blood on the
other man's chin.

"You whore!" Spender yells, "Don't you have one decent, normal emotion in
you?"

"If I did, you wouldn't be wanting me so badly, would you, Jeff?" Alex
finally throws him off, and he turns around, crawling to his feet. I think
he has forgotten my existence, so his face turns pale as he comes nose to
nose with me.

His eyes are bright with unshed tears, and his face is a mask of blood and
loss. He focuses on me, mutters "Oh, Jesus," and strikes out at me, hitting
me in the gut. Strangely, it does not hurt too much, so I am amazed to hear
Alex scream and fling himself at Spender, knocking him flying. The knife he
had in his hand clatters to the floor, and I look down at myself, realizing
that I've been stabbed. Alex has Spender down and is pounding his head on
the floor.

"Alex..." my voice sounds calm, but everything is numb in me, and I feel
very strange.

He leaves Spender then and comes over to me, face panic-stricken. My belly
is bleeding. The cut is deep, and I can tell I'm in trouble. He lowers me to
the floor and casts around for something he can stop the blood flow with. He
scoots off and returns with a towel, applying pressure to the wound as
things start to become very hazy.

"No, Fox! Stay with me! Please, Fox!" I can hear him and mumble that it's
OK, I love him, I won't leave him unless I stop loving him, I already
promised him. There's a rushing in my ears, and then everything fades away
leaving only blackness.

****************************************

For some reason, whenever Mulder calls me, it's always after midnight. He
hasn't been calling me lately, and I suppose that now he's having this love
affair with Krycek, he's busy. I've started to pick up the threads of my
life where they left off so many years ago, it seems to me now. I have a
social life again. I'm even dating from time to time. I won't say that I've
wasted the past five years, but my life did seem to go on the back burner
for a while.

In a way, it's a relief to me to take a step back for a while. The X-Files
are under new management, and I'm not even specifically Mulder's partner any
more. Kersh has been pairing me up with other agents and sending me out
without Mulder. After five years of being Mulder's only friend, it feels
strange to be passing the baton to someone else.

Mulder is irritating, frustrating, pig-headed, vulnerable, sexy, and fun. I
miss him. I miss the silly phone calls about nothing very much. I miss his
acid wit and his sweet, rarely given smile. Damn it, I miss the monster of
the week, and the arguments that always accompany it. I wonder if he argues
with Krycek. I don't recall too much about Krycek. My first impression of
him was of a wide-eyed innocent in a baggy suit, playing cops and robbers
but somehow out of his depth. The next time I saw him, he was somehow to
blame for all the troubles of the Western World. I have a vague recollection
of a driven, hunted looking man in a baseball cap squaring off with Mulder.
I'd mentally given him an A plus for courage, and another for stupidity;
after all, he chose Mulder to fool with, and Mulder is not known for his
calmness and stability. I sigh. Mulder's a big boy. He's old enough to
choose his own friends. He did confide in me, and that warmed me a little,
but he hasn't shown any desire to share his relationship yet. No doubt one
day it will be time, and I'll be able to see how they are together, but for
now, I am content to wait.

I'm sitting up in bed, reading a book, when my cell rings. Funny, nobody
calls me at this time of night except Mulder. It has to be him. Maybe just
thinking about him is enough to put the idea into his mind. I have a silly
idea about opening an X-File on the subject and giving it to Spender and
Fowley for research. Turning on the phone, I raise it to my ear.

"Scully." I lean back, wanting to get comfortable and chat for a while. I've
missed him a lot. I just hope he isn't going to cry on my shoulder because
Krycek has done something awful.

"Scully, please come. You have to come now. I think he's dying." My stomach
clenches. I don't know this voice. I want to put down the phone and pretend
it didn't ring.

"Who is this?" I think I know the answer even as I ask the question.

"It's Krycek, Alex Krycek. Scully, please come right now. Something's
happened to Fox. I don't think he's going to make it. Help him, please. You
have to help him!" The voice is strained, and a sudden fear curls itself
around my heart and squeezes just hard enough to get my attention. I'm out
of bed, yanking on clothes by guess as I talk.

"Where are you? Have you called an ambulance?" I'm dressed and on my way out
the door, grabbing such supplies as I think I might need but not really
stopping to think. I reach the elevator, and then have to run back for my
car keys. Stay calm, Dana. You're no good to him if you panic.

I reach Mulder's apartment building very quickly and hit the ground running.
Bursting in through the door, I'm confronted by a scene from Dante. Alex
Krycek is kneeling on the floor wearing a pair of blood soaked sweat pants.
I haven't seen him for a while and I am chilled when I notice that he has
lost an arm, but there's no time to comment on that. There's a body beside
him, and Krycek is trying very hard to staunch the flow of blood from it. He
has a blood soaked towel in his hands, and he's applying pressure to the
wound. Blood wells up around his hands and I'm very concerned to see that
Mulder... It is Mulder, has lost consciousness. Krycek is talking to him as
he kneels, and the tears have tracked down his blood smeared cheeks. He is
red eyed, frantic, and looks like a kid in trouble. I feel very protective
towards the two of them all of a sudden, and move in to kneel on Mulder's
other side, laying out such equipment as I have. Together we set about
trying to prolong Mulder's life.

"Krycek, have you phoned for the paramedics?" He nods and looks at me
mutely, with a look so heartwrenching I almost feel sorry for him.

"Why did you do this? I thought you two were friends now." He's in shock, I
can see. Mulder's blood is covering him, and he's shaking a little, but the
response to my question is firm enough.

"I didn't do it. I couldn't hurt him. I love him. It was Spender." He
gestures with his head, and for the first time I see the prone figure that's
lying, limbs sprawled, partially concealed by the couch.

"Oh, my God! What happened here? Is he dead too?" I can't take it in.
Spender is covered in blood too, and I can see a cut on his hairline, but I
don't know if it's his blood or Mulder's.

"He stabbed Fox. He's jealous. Please, Scully, help Fox." The last sentence
comes out in an agonized whisper. I watch as his face crumples and tears
spill over to trickle down his face unregarded. He cries silently, grabbing
for Mulder's limp hand and pulling it to his cheek. I'm quick to move in and
check Mulder's vital signs, feeling for the pulse, the terribly weak pulse,
and trying to assess his chances.

"We have to get him to a hospital, Krycek. He's going to need surgery,
antibiotics, blood and time. He's in critical condition. He's lost a lot of
blood. Hopefully the paramedics will be here soon, but I won't lie to you,
Krycek, he's in great danger. It's going to be touch and go." I look him up
and down, and if I had time at all, I'd be trying to get him to lie down. He
looks as if he's at the end of his tether. As it is, I just keep on working
on Mulder. Krycek has covered him with a comforter, but under it he's naked,
and I try to imagine exactly how all this happened before shaking my head
and getting on with the job in hand.

Spender stirs, lifting up his head with a moan. A look of total viciousness
seeps across Krycek's face, and I suddenly see that this man could kill
without compunction. He glances toward Spender but stays still holding
Mulder's hand up against his mouth. Spender climbs to his knees and crawls
over towards us, putting out a hand to touch Mulder.

"Is he dead? Tell me he's not dead." Spender buries his face in the edge of
the comforter. Krycek tenderly places Mulder's hand down and then whips
round on Spender with the speed of a striking snake.

"If he dies, you sorry sack of shit, if he dies, I'll cut your dick off and
feed it to you!" The voice has far more menace in it than is healthy, and I
look up in shock. "He did it! He stabbed Fox. I'll kill him slowly, Scully,
I swear it."

I sigh. "Krycek, I can hold him for the minute. If you want to go with him
when the paramedics arrive, I suggest you go and wash now, put some clothes
on and try to be ready. Mulder doesn't need you to be in jail when he wakes
up." Krycek just looks at me for a minute, dull-eyed and seemingly without
comprehension. "Go on, I won't let him die, trust me."

Slowly, he rises to his feet and heads for the bathroom. I turn back to
Mulder. Just at that point, the paramedics arrive, and there is bustling as
Mulder is rapidly transferred to a stretcher, hooked up to fluids and
transferred to an ambulance. Krycek emerges from the shower as Mulder is
being carried out and screams at them to wait for him. I step back to
comfort him, promising him that I will drive him to the hospital right away.
He stands, forgotten and forlorn as Mulder is taken to the ambulance, and I
forget he is a wanted man. I forget the role he had in Melissa's death. I
pat his cheek and reassure him the way I would a small child.

Mulder has gone now, and Krycek nods miserably, turning to the bedroom where
presumably he has some clothing. He is currently dripping wet and covered
only in a towel.

"Get dressed, Krycek. We need to do something about Spender."

A couple of minutes later, he emerges from the bedroom, dressed in denims
and wearing a prosthetic arm. He's pale, except for his eyes, which are red.
I want to throw my arms around him and hug him, but I restrain myself. I
point firmly to a chair, and he sits mutely, face a mask of strain and
shock.

"Krycek, I need to know what happened here. You say that Agent Spender
stabbed Mulder. I find that very difficult to believe. Why did he do it?
You'd better tell me from the beginning." I can see Krycek getting restive
and wanting to go right now. "We have to do something about Spender before
we can go. We can't just leave him, he tried to kill Mulder. Tell me what
happened."

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "We were in the shower; when we
came through he was sitting on the couch swinging a key. He said he wanted
to talk to me. We had a bit of a scuffle, and Fox told him to get out. He
pulled a knife on him and stabbed him."

"Where is this knife? Did you touch it?" I look around, following Krycek's
pointing finger. There's a hunting knife with a wicked edge to it lying on
the carpet. The blood has dried on it by this time, and it appears almost
black in the lamplight. I sigh, get out the cuffs and slap them on Spender,
who is still crouched with his head down on the carpet. Picking up the
phone, I dial my ex-supervisor, AD Skinner. He's not going to like any of
this, but I can't think what else to do.

Explaining things to him takes a few minutes, but eventually he's on his
way, and I turn to Krycek. "Here are the keys to my car. If you want to go
and sit in it, you can. I warn you that if you try to leave before I get
there, you will be a dead man. The world won't be large enough to hide you
from me. You can avoid Skinner just this once, but you can never avoid me.
Do you understand?"

He puts on his jacket and boots, then stumbles out the door in a daze. I
watch him go and then settle to wait for Skinner. I have made no attempt to
disturb anything that might possibly be construed as evidence. When the
Assistant Director arrives, I want him to be able to see everything as it
now stands.

A few minutes later, the AD walks in through the door, stopping short as he
sees the mess, the blood and the crouching figure of Agent Spender. Quickly
I go over the events as I know them. I tell him about the fight. So far I
haven't named Mulder's companion, but I know I'm going to have to, and once
I do, it will cause the most spectacular commotion. My heart goes out to
Mulder. If he recovers, he has to deal with this. He will have to deal with
the fact that his lover will probably go to jail for his past crimes, and he
faces the loss of his job. Homosexuality is not condoned at the Bureau, and
neither is consorting with criminals. Krycek is wanted for murder amongst
other things. I don't think he will be let off with a caution.

"There's something you aren't telling me, Scully. I hope it isn't going to
rebound on me." He fixes me with his stern gaze.

"Yes, sir. It's just that Mulder's companion...." I stop, trying to gauge
what kind of mood he's in.

"Go on. You'd better tell me the worst now." He frowns, and my heart sinks
into my boots.

"Well, Sir, it was... I mean he is..." I break off again and check the
gathering thundercloud that is his face "Mulder's been seeing Alex Krycek,
Sir."

All done. Bye bye! I quail as I wait for the coming storm. When it doesn't
arrive, I sneak a look at him. He's sitting still and straight. He doesn't
react.

"You'd better go attend to Mulder. I want you in my office in the morning."
He turns his attention to the hapless Spender. "Oh and Scully..."

"Yes, Sir?" I'm at the door now.

"If you see Krycek, I want to see him too."

***********************************

Escaping from Mulder's apartment building, I run down the stairs to my car,
wondering if Krycek will be waiting, or if he will have succumbed to
temptation and made off with it. In a way I am surprised to see that he's
sitting in the car waiting for me.

Opening the door of the car, I survey this lover of my best friend. He's
gone completely to pieces, face buried in his hands, rocking back and forth
as he makes soft gasping noises. As I climb into the car, he stops moving
and makes a valiant effort to pull himself together. His eyes are red and
puffy, the tears have wet his face, and he has a good growth of bristle
darkening his lip and chin. Once again I have an urge to take him in my arms
and rock him, comfort him somehow.

Starting the car, I ease it out onto the road, heading for the hospital.

"Mulder told me that you and he were seeing each other. How did you get
together? It's not so long since he was trying to kill you." I'm trying to
take his mind off the situation as I speed through the mostly deserted
streets toward the hospital where he has been taken. Krycek doesn't speak
immediately, and I think my ploy has failed, but then suddenly he begins to
talk.

"I've loved him since we were partners. I spent the past four years watching
over him, feeding him information, occasionally taking beatings from him
when I let my guard slip and he caught me. On Christmas Eve, I suddenly
realized that it wasn't enough. It seemed to me that I could go on the way I
was and eventually run out of luck, or I could try and change things. I
decided that I would make one attempt to get what I wanted. If I failed, I
would die. I don't know how it happened. I didn't fail, and somehow Fox fell
in love with me. If Spender hadn't been such a determined piece of shit, we
would be fine." He fixes his eyes on me, and despite the red and swollen
tissue it is plain to me that he is a very good-looking man. I shake my
head. Why are all the good looking men gay?

"I don't understand how Spender fits into this equation, Krycek. Why was he
at Mulder's place? Why would he stab Mulder?" I'm recalling the bloody face
and apparent misery of the man who has charge of the X-Files right now. He
doesn't seem like a man for whom violence is a way of life, unlike the man
now sitting beside me.

"It's my fault. It's all my fault. He was jealous of Fox. He wanted me, and
Fox told him to go away..." Krycek's voice breaks at this point, and he just
sits dumbly, tears spilling over to trickle down his cheeks. I don't know
what to tell him. Fortunately at this point we arrive at the hospital, and
despite my warnings, he has the car door open long before the car is parked,
and is out and running for the door before it is at a standstill.

I follow him at a somewhat more leisurely pace. He is at the desk when I
arrive, attempting to find out where Mulder has been taken. I know he's
worried to death, but he isn't getting anywhere with the desk clerk, who is
giving him no information. I approach, flash my badge and elicit the name of
the doctor who is even now performing surgery on Mulder. Finally, after a
period of argument and debate, we are shown a room where we can wait for
news of how he's doing.

Time passes. Krycek paces like a crazy thing. I expect to see a tail lashing
each time he prowls past me. He doesn't want coffee, he doesn't want food,
he can't handle conversation, and in the end I just let him pace.

Time passes and at four thirty am, there is a commotion. Krycek and I both
start for the door, and I'm almost as anxious as he is. I know that I'm not
only disappointed but also very afraid when I see that the newcomer is not
the surgeon. AD Skinner enters the room. Krycek flinches once, and then his
chin goes up, his posture becomes straighter, and I can see that he is not
going to reveal anything to his ex-boss. The two men face each other, and
the Assistant Director is about to begin speaking when the doctor does
finally appear, and it is obvious to all of us that Krycek is not listening
to anyone else.

The doctor is a very short, round man and Krycek looms over him, practically
hopping with impatience. With kindness, the doctor convinces Krycek to sit
down while he goes over the situation. The news is about as I had expected.
Mulder has lost a good deal of blood, he has had extensive surgery to repair
his bowels, and he no longer has an appendix. He has a strong, fit body, but
the trauma has been great, and the threat of peritonitis is not yet over. He
is being given antibiotics as well as blood, but we won't know whether he is
likely to recover for some hours. Krycek is white. His face looks drawn. For
the first time it's possible to see the old man he will one day become.

"Can I see him? Please can I see him?" The doctor appears to consider the
request, but finally nods and Krycek gets up, "following in front" of the
doctor the way that a cat would, and getting in the way like a cat would
too. I get up then and lay my hand on Krycek's sleeve. He reacts violently,
shaking me loose, and then turns, stricken, when he realizes.

"It's OK, Krycek. Nobody's going to stop you going to see him." I fix
Skinner with my fiercest look, and he subsides, nodding. He's being very
well behaved. I give him a smile and go with Krycek to see how Mulder is
doing.

Mulder is in the ICU. He has tubes up his nose, disappearing under the
bedclothes, into his arm and into his mouth. His face is white, and he is
drooling a little blood from the corner of his mouth. Krycek kneels beside
the bed and gently takes one of Mulder's hands, pressing it to his mouth
before laying his cheek against it and resting his head on the bed. There he
stays, unmoving while I go to find the surgeon. I really want to discuss the
implications of Mulder's injury.

Some 20 minutes later, when I return, he hasn't moved. He's whispering soft
words to the man lying motionless in the bed, and I feel suddenly very
lonely. Mulder is lucky. He has someone.

AD Skinner comes to me then, and together we watch this Krycek phenomenon. I
have to ask him.

"Are you going to arrest Krycek, sir?" He gives me a shrewd, sideways glance
out of his black eyes.

"Agent Scully, you called me rather than AD Kersh for a reason. You'd better
tell me what it is." I look at him and can see that he is sincere. He
doesn't mask his emotions, and I can see them unfolding across his features.
He is a good, kind man. I take a deep breath.

"Sir, Agent Mulder and Alex Krycek are in love with each other. I know that
the implications for Mulder's continued standing at the Bureau would be
called into question for that, both for security reasons and for the fact
that Krycek is a wanted man. I know that at the moment Mulder's recovery may
well hang on Krycek's continued presence. I know how much in love he is.
Also, I think from watching Krycek, that any attempt to remove him from
Mulder's presence is likely to make him go off the deep end. He's balancing
on a fine edge, sir."

The Assistant Director stands by the door and studies Krycek. Krycek pays no
attention to anything but the unconscious form on the bed. He's still
holding Mulder's hand, still kneeling. I go and find a chair, pulling it
over to Krycek, and wait. He doesn't move until I prompt him. Then, as I
practically lift him, he stumbles up to sit in the chair. His hold on
Mulder's hand remains. He leans forward and drops his head onto the bed next
to Mulder, and there he stays.

"Krycek, it's time you and I had a talk. Come on." Skinner sounds
uncompromising.

"Talk here, or wait. I won't leave him." The ring of certainty in Krycek's
voice makes Skinner blink for a minute, then he nods and moves to stand
beside Krycek. For a while he just stands there, looking down on the back of
Krycek's head, but as the seated man shows no sign of changing his position,
or facing his interrogator, Skinner appears to become irritated, and grabs
for Krycek's shoulder, intent on turning him around. It doesn't work. Krycek
remains, head bowed, his husky voice barely audible.

"Whatever you want, I'll get it for you, or give it to you as soon as I can.
Just leave me alone with him now, please." He slowly raises grief-ravaged
eyes to Skinner, and I can see the AD changing his mind about a number of
things. He sits on the arm of the chair next to Krycek, and his voice is
curiously gentle when he next speaks.

"What are you doing with him? I need to know whether he's safe with you. You
can't blame me for not trusting you, Krycek." Eyes of drowned green, fringed
with thick, wet, spiky lashes stare blindly at Skinner.

"Potseluy myenya v zhopu! What would I be doing with him? I'm waiting to see
where he's going, so I can follow him. You can trust me for that if nothing
else." His mobile mouth is set in a determined line, and he's obviously
waiting patiently for Skinner to go away and leave him with his stricken
lover. Skinner does not move. He does not speak, he merely waits, silently.
After another pregnant pause Krycek turns back to Mulder. "Trust me or not,
he's mine. I won't leave him. You'll have to kill me to make me leave."

Skinner digests this in silence, and then lays his large hand back on the
other man's shoulder. This time the gesture is curiously tender, and I am
surprised. I feel that I need to add my bit to the conversation.

"You should get some sleep now, while you can. It will take him a while to
recover from the anaesthetic. He won't be waking for at least another four
hours. When he does, you are going to need to be rested, so you can cope
with things. He's going to be in a lot of pain, and you are going to be
stressed out. Let me see if they can find you a bed for a couple of hours at
least, Krycek. If you like, I'll stay with him, and wake you if he shows any
signs of changing." He starts to shake his head at this point, and by the
end of my speech, he is saying "no,no,no!" under his breath.

Skinner leans forward and puts an arm clumsily around Krycek's shoulders.
"Listen to me, Krycek. Agent Scully has looked after Mulder since her first
day on the X-Files. You don't think she's going to let him die now, do you?
Go get some sleep. She won't let anything happen to him without making you
aware of it." He speaks abruptly, but to my surprise it appears to snap
Krycek out of his frozen state. Krycek sobs once and hurls himself into
Skinner's embrace, where he remains for another minute or two, obviously
gaining comfort from the sheer strength of the man. Finally, Krycek rises to
his feet, puts out a hand to stroke through Mulder's hair, and bends to kiss
him softly, then he stumbles over to me, leaving Skinner still sitting on
the arm of the chair, shock written across his features.

Following a brief conversation with the surgeon, I take Krycek to a side
ward close to the ICU and settle him into a bed. He looks as if he's at the
end of his tether, and I bring him chocolate into which I have stirred some
sleeping medicine. He protests about being quite all right, and not needing
sleep, but he is out like a light even before I leave the room. Moving
softly, I stroll over to examine him, young and defenseless in his sleep.
His face is tearstained, and there are patches of red where he has rubbed
away the salty water. His thick eyelashes curl on his cheeks, and his finely
sculpted lips are parted, revealing just a glimpse of white teeth. His
tip-tilted nose is red, and this makes him look more vulnerable than
anything else. He is curled, fully dressed except for his shoes, on the top
of the bed. Nothing I could say persuaded him to undress and actually get
into the bed. Sighing, I take a blanket and throw it over sleeping beauty
before leaving, carefully closing the door behind me.

****************************************

The day breaks, dull and cold. I have dozed in the armchair at Mulder's
bedside for the past few hours and wake only when a nurse comes in to change
the drip that is feeding him blood. She checks his vital signs, makes notes
on his chart, and bustles out again. Mulder is still lying waxy on the
pillow and has not moved a muscle since the previous night.

AD Skinner enters the room and he's thoughtfully bearing cardboard cups of
coffee and a bag containing cheese and ham croissants. Depositing the tray
and bag, he comes over to look at Mulder.

"How's Krycek? He cause any trouble?" In my tired state the deep voice
brushes over my skin like fur.

I shake my head, "No, he went out like a light last night, and he hasn't
surfaced yet. I was going to check on him as soon as you arrived. Is one of
those coffees for me?" He nods and gestures to the tray, inviting me to take
one and I smile my thanks as I take a cup.

I go quickly to check on Krycek. As I open the door, he stirs and opens one
sleep-encrusted eye. Within seconds he is up on his feet, grabbing for his
shoes and jacket, striding towards me.

"How is he? Is he OK? What's happened?" His hair is standing up in spikes;
his eyes are swollen and he badly needs a shave. He is the most pathetic
thing I have seen in my life.

"He's comfortable. There's no change. The anesthetic will be wearing off
pretty soon and then he's going to be in a lot of pain. I came to tell you
that there was some breakfast if you'd like it." I smile at him
encouragingly and lay my hand on his arm. He follows me out, holding his
jacket and shoes in his arms.

Back in Mulder's room, AD Skinner is sitting by the bedside, and looks up to
see us returning. He rises quickly, offering the seat to Krycek, who ignores
him in favor of standing beside Mulder's bedside, examining him closely for
signs of improvement. His color has improved, and Krycek nods to himself as
he checks out his condition. Finally satisfied, he leans down to kiss the
sleeping man, first on his mouth, and then on his eyes and forehead. He
gathers up Mulder's hand, kissing it and laying it back down again, then
settles in the chair.

Skinner hands him a coffee and the remaining croissant, and he offers a
small smile, quickly gone, before tearing into the food.

"He looks a little better now. How long do you think it will be before he
wakes?" he's looking at me for information and I shake my head.

"He's better off asleep right now, Krycek. When he wakes up, he's going to
hurt. You don't want to wish that on him, do you? He finishes his croissant
and licks his fingers like a cat. Picking up his coffee, he inhales the
steam from it before drinking.

As he drinks, he starts to look a little better himself, and I realize that
he is a caffeine addict! This I can sympathize with. He stands up and goes
to check for a bathroom, returning a few minutes later with his hair
dampened down and his face washed. He still has 24 hours growth of stubble
on his chin, which gives him a piratical air, but on the whole he seems to
be much improved. Hurrying back to the bedside, he is just about to take his
seat when Mulder groans, licks dry lips, and opens his eyes.

"Alex?" He is restricted by the plumbing that hangs from his face and can't
quite see Krycek where he is standing; however it is at that point that I
can finally see how much these two love one another. Krycek's face lights
up, and the tears spring up once again. He moves quickly back to the bedside
and sinks to his knees again, putting his hand against Mulder's cheek.

"I'm here, baby! I'm so sorry! I thought I'd lost you. I can't live without
you. Please tell me that you forgive me?" He's whispering, that velvet voice
of his ragged with intensity.

"Don't be sorry, Love. You couldn't have known he was going to do that."

Mulder's words are calm, gentle, but Krycek flinches. At this point Skinner
comes forward, demanding to know what happened, questioning Mulder and
Krycek both until finally Mulder says:

"Let Spender go. He didn't mean it. He won't do it again. He was driven to
the end of his tether, and I know how that feels. Just let him go." at which
point Krycek gets up and heads out of the room, tears starting in his eyes.
Mulder calls after him but to no avail. When I go to try and find him, he is
nowhere to be seen.

***********************

I've been waiting to hear from Alex. I haven't seen him or heard from him
since he ran out of the hospital five days ago. I'm starting to worry about
him. The doctors are pleased with my progress. Apparently I'm healthy and
mending well, and I can go home today. In Alex's absence, Scully will come
and pick me up to ferry me home. It's going to be another few days until I
can get myself healed enough to go back into work, but I'm going to be much
happier at home with Alex than lying here in a hospital bed. I'm really
excited about getting out of here and being with Alex again. I don't know
where he went the other day, but I'm hoping he's going to be home when I get
there.

Scully arrives, bearing sweats and sneakers for me. I dress quickly; 'm
going home.

"Mulder, there was nobody there when I went to your apartment. I don't know
what you want me to do. I left a message for Krycek to say that you were
coming home this afternoon, but I don't know if he got it." She speaks
earnestly, trying to pick her way through the landmines of implied meaning
and stay neutral in her delivery. She has her cellphone, and I borrow it,
dialing my number and waiting until the answering machine picks up.

"Alex, if you're there, please pick up. I'm coming home now. I can't wait to
see you, babe. I love you." Even though I wait for a long time, he does not
pick up, and I reluctantly conclude that he's not there. Heavy hearted, I
hang up the phone and return it to Scully, then we leave the hospital
behind.

Drawing up to my apartment block, Scully holds the door for me, stiff as I
am, and waits while I climb gingerly out of the car. I feel as if I have
aged 40 years. We get to the apartment, and Scully opens the door. The place
is quiet, painfully empty. The blood has been cleaned off the carpet, and I
can see no signs of the fight that caused my injury. The kitchen is clean
and neat, and my bedroom is also spotless. I know Alex has been there, but
he isn't here now. My heart sinks, and I'm suddenly getting very bad vibes.

"Scully, please could you drive me over to Alex's place? I'm a little
worried." She nods at me, and back we go down the stairs to her car. I scan
the parking lot, but I still don't see Alex's vehicle. We carefully fold me
until I fit into her small car, and then I give her Alex's address.

We pull up again and I extract myself once more, wincing as the act of
straightening out makes me gasp. Scully looks over, forehead furrowed.

"Mulder, take it easy. I think you're overdoing it." I know she means to be
kind, but now I'm really rattled because I can see Alex's car in the parking
lot. I say nothing to her; I just carry on walking towards the door. I've
got my key. I unlock the door and move as fast as I can to the elevator.
Scully catches up with me, and I push the button to take me up to the sixth
floor.

"He's here, Scully. I saw his car." She looks at me, but says nothing.

The elevator stops and I hurl myself out of it, moving in a crablike fashion
to the door of Alex's apartment. I knock, but there's no answer. Sighing, I
get out my keys. I'm so afraid now that my hand is shaking. Scully gently
removes the key from my hand and opens the door, moving in first.

I hear the intake of breath as she enters the living room from the hallway.
My heart thuds painfully as it tries to fight its way out of my chest. I
hear Scully muttering "Oh, my God!" and virtually shove her out of my way as
I try to get in to the room.

He is sprawled out on the couch, somewhere between sitting and lying. He's
watching the door, watching us come in, but he's behaving strangely. He's
wearing a grubby T-shirt and tattered blue jeans, and for once his apartment
is less than tidy. There are papers on the floor, CDs spread around, and
he's been breaking things. There are shattered glasses and plates in one
corner of the room. On the floor, torn into several pieces lies the
photograph I saw here once before. The marred faces of his wife and son look
out from pitiful fragments of ripped paper. My heart is pounding still, and
I feel faint. There's nothing in the world that could have prepared me for
this. I turn to Alex and kneel beside him. His eyes follow me, and he gives
a tiny half smile, nothing more. His eyes look like black holes, opening
into a void where only a few days before I know there was a soul.

"Alex! Come on, Alex, talk to me." He looks at me, looks through me and
smiles vacantly. I turn away then to find Scully, wanting to know what I
should do. She's coming from the bedroom, and she has something in her hand.

"Mulder, you're going to want to see this." In her hands she is holding a
dish containing a syringe, white powder in an envelope, cotton swabs and a
box of matches. I look uncomprehendingly at first, and then turn to grab
Alex by the arm, pulling him up to sit. He smiles loosely, and his head
tilts so that he can see me.

"Fox. Hi, Fox. How ya doin'?" he giggles and shows a tendency to slide back
down on the couch, but I'm getting mad. I yank on the arm I'm holding until
he half falls out of his seat to flop into my arms, where he hangs on,
giggling still. His head lolls for a moment, and then he seems to make a
supreme effort. He lifts his head up, fixes me with his dreadful, soulless
stare and stands a little straighter. I grab his arm, looking for needle
tracks, but of course there aren't any. How could there be? I undo the
buttons on his jeans, while he stands there swaying. He shudders a little at
my action.

"Bad Fox! Ladies present, you know." I refuse to be diverted, and down come
the jeans. He folds and slumps back onto the couch right then, but it's too
late. I've seen the marks on the inside of his thigh, and I know what he's
done. I think my heart breaks at that moment. I grab his shoulders and drag
him up to face me. He's making a small noise that might be distress, and
though he's smiling, tears spill over and drip down his cheeks. He lurches
forward, and his lips press my cheek for a second. At this I lose my temper.
I shake him, hard, and when he doesn't seem to respond to that, I punch him,
smashing his cheek, hitting his jaw, trying however I can to make him hear
me. I sink my fist into his belly, grabbing for his hair to pull him up
again. He dangles limply, and I scream at him.

"You stupid, dumb slut! You fucking moron!" I punctuate every word by
shaking him. "What are you trying to do? Are you trying to kill yourself?
Here! Here's my gun, it's cleaner, faster. It will get it over with quicker.
Go on, take it, you coward! Take it! Take it!" I break down and let go of
him abruptly, flinging him away from me. Finally I fall to the couch myself
where I sit and sob.

He huddles there trying to collect his sorry brain together, and Scully
watches, jaw slack, totally dumbfounded.

"Fox, it's good, it's all good! You're better now, and that's good. You
don't need me. Spender's OK. You're OK. Everybody's fine now." He's not
slurring. He's enunciating each word a bit too carefully and I'm feeling
those cold chills running through my system as I wonder what I can do.

"What do you want from me, Alex? What do you want me to do? Do you want me
to cry for you? Look at these! They're tears! They're all for you. You did
it! God, Alex, don't do this, not this. You're killing me!" I'm crying hard
now, and the deep sobs are wrenching my belly, tearing out of me. He's still
sitting, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth as he
recovers from the battering I've just given him.

Scully comes over and checks his pulse, looks in his eyes and then turns her
attention to me. She lays her hand on my shoulder, going down on her knees
to crouch before me.

"Mulder. You both need to go back to the hospital, I think. He's been taking
heroin." She looks so sad. I drag my gaze up to meet hers.

"It's OK, Scully. He'll be fine. I'm going to be with him now." She starts
to speak, and then nods, and heads off to the kitchen where I can hear her
doing things involving dishes and water. I turn to Alex.

"Why, baby? Why?" His face is still set in that frozen smile. We stay there
looking at each other for a couple of minutes, until I think we're never
going to be able to move again. Finally, he utters a little, choking sob,
and slowly, so slowly it feels as if we're moving through water, he leans
forward to lay his head on my knee. His shoulders begin to shake and he
cries.

I cry right along with him. I cry for my poor pathetic lover, so lost and
afraid that he can't face reality without chemical help. I cry for myself,
for knowing that we would reach a point like this somewhere down the line,
but not having any choice but to walk it anyway. I cry for the lives we've
lost. Hell, by this point, I would cry for ET, or Lassie. I cry for lost
love, damaged lives, hurt and broken souls. I cry for myself, but most of
all for Alex.

It takes me a while to get myself together, but finally I can get myself
under control. I pull him up and put my arms around him. He leans into me,
and his head droops onto my shoulder. There we sit, rocking backwards and
forwards while I stroke his hair, his back and his neck. Finally, he stills
his shaking and lies quietly in my arms. I press kisses on his ear and his
neck and feel very old. At last, I relax, and the steady sound of his
breathing soothes me. He's all I want. He's all I've ever wanted. He's mine,
and I won't let him go no matter what. Leaning back into Alex's couch, I
feel the world slipping away, and my last drowsy thoughts are that I'm
holding Alex again. I fall asleep still holding him tightly.

Scully wakes me after a while, and I struggle to work out precisely where I
am. Then the events of the morning come flooding back to me, and I feel
sick. Alex is lying quietly, sleeping still in my arms; a bruise is purpling
on his cheekbone and the blood has dried in the corner of his mouth. I bend
and trace his features with my lips as he sleeps, watching his nose wrinkle
a little as I brush over it. My heart thumps painfully. I love this man.

I'm stiff and sore from the position I've been sleeping in, and he's heavy.
I don't want to release him, but Scully insists, so I kiss his hair one more
time and squirm out from the seat. Scully brings me to the bedroom and makes
me lie down, checking me out and administering painkillers that I don't
really need. Then she offers me food. She's made soup and there's cheese
croutons floating in the bowl. I suddenly realize how hungry I am. Food and
painkillers help enormously. I sit on the edge of the bed, and Scully joins
me.

"What are you going to do, Mulder?" She's solemn.

"Scully, what can I do?" I shrug my shoulders as I appeal to her.

"You've got a couple of choices, Mulder. You can leave him to it." I'm
shaking my head even as she's speaking. "Hear me out, Mulder. Heroin is
extremely addictive. The fact that he's injecting himself is indicative of
the fact that he's hooked. Do you really want to support someone through the
pain of recovery from an addiction? If he goes through it and gets off it,
there's no guarantee that he won't start again. What will you do if that
happens? Beating him up may make you feel better, but in the long run it
will only add to his problems, and to yours." As she finishes her little
lecture, I know that I can't just walk away from my lover. I gesture, and
she stops speaking.

"Help me, Scully, please help me. He's had so many bad things happen to him,
and I love him so much. I know he'll clean up if I can just keep him calm.
How do I do it?" I grab her by the shoulders and realize only when she
winces that I'm gripping her so hard I'm hurting her. A little
shamed-facedly, I release her, and she shakes herself, smoothing her silk
jacket down.

"Mulder, I'll do whatever I can for you. I can't guarantee that it will be
enough." She pats my hand, and once again my heart goes out to this loyal
little creature. She's strong, far stronger than I am. I'm lucky to have
her.

Together, we sit and plan out how we are going to help Alex.

**********************

I've held his head while he vomited, heaving until his muscles strained and
bruises appeared. I've bathed his face as he sweated and shook. I've clipped
his fingernails down to stop him from scratching his face until it bleeds.
He's sleeping now.

I'm holding him in my arms, stroking his naked back. I want him so badly,
but he's sleeping now for the first time in days, and I can't disturb him.
I'm holding him because I daren't let him go. I'm trying to keep him from
trembling uncontrollably, from shaking himself apart. He moans and comes
partly awake, clinging to me as if he's drowning. My lips are pressed
against his forehead as his mouth flutters against my neck. My cock is
bursting, but I the thought of letting him go is impossible. I move slightly
against him, pressing myself against his thigh, needing him so badly, but
not daring to disturb his shallow peace.

His arm steals around my waist, and he pulls my body in to him. I draw in my
breath as he presses himself up against me. My belly hurts, but my cock
surges, and the hot tingling feeling that shoots through me makes me forget
the pain.

"Fox, let me do it for you. Let me love you." His whisper is a faint breath
on my neck, and then he turns up his head, seeking out my lips, opening his
so that we share breath, before he joins his mouth to mine. My head swims.
His tongue promises me sweet hot joy as it slides into my mouth, searching
for mine and tangling with it in the passion of our kiss. He rolls me onto
my back, carefully keeping himself from pressing against the site of my
injury, and I sigh, giving myself up to him, loving him. I have missed him
so damned much. For a while there it felt as if we would never be like this
again. Now, after all the pain and hurt we are making love, and I want to
cry because it feels so good to me.

He moves his mouth over my chin, pausing to suck on the hollow of my neck,
tickling a little and sending shivers through me. I run my hands over him,
and he raises his head, capturing one of my hands, pulling it up to place it
above my head, and telling me to put the other there too.

"Fox, all you have to do is keep them there. If you move them, I'll stop."
The determined sound of his voice keeps my hands in place. I try to see him
in the half-light, and he watches me for a minute, then reaches out to snap
on the lamp beside the bed. "I need to see you, baby. It's been so long
since we did this." The sound of his voice is like rough silk on my tender
skin. His words raise goosebumps and I drink in the sight of him as he
hovers above me, temporarily free from the demons that ride him. His lips
wander over my skin, tongue flicking and lapping, teeth teasing gently and
occasionally not so gently, making me jerk and cry out. Sucking on my
nipples, rolling first one, then the other between his teeth, he nuzzles
into my chest. I'm watching him avidly, gloating over the slide of his
muscles beneath fair skin and wanting to run my fingers over the fuzz at the
nape of his neck. His hair is short, cut severely into the nape of his long
neck, revealing the elegant lines of his throat and the perfect shape of his
head. That little patch of down at his hairline makes him look so
vulnerable. I want to touch it.

"Come up here for a minute, baby, I really need to kiss you." He swoops up
to press his mouth on mine, making my belly flip-flop. I grab the back of
his head to push deeper into his mouth, fingering the down on his neck. At
this he pulls back, looks me in the eye and tells me "No!" Reluctantly I
return my arm to the pillow above my head, and his lips descend once again
to explore, tongue sliding on my lips before slipping in between to swirl
over mine.

I'm groaning, wanting him so badly that it hurts me. He's trailing his
fingers over my belly. The sensation is maddening. He touches me everywhere
except where I need to be touched. I beg him to please, please touch me,
hold me, let me come. He is kissing my neck now, tongue laving my throat. I
gasp as he bites into my neck. He's really working me over. When he finally
takes hold of my cock with his sure, expert grip, I scream and fold up, the
sensation is so intense. He bends his head down and sucks sharply on the
head of my cock, his hand squeezing and sliding on the shaft, and I can't
hold back. I come hard, white fluid filling his mouth and trickling from his
lips to run down his chin. He holds me there, sucking until I beg him to
stop, then he moves down, kissing my thighs, nipping the soft skin there and
making me yelp.

Sitting up, I grab hold of his hair, pulling him away from my
over-sensitized skin. I force his head back and down to the bed, holding him
captive there while I survey him, searching him with my eyes, looking for
any signs of needle tracks. He knows what I'm doing and closes his eyes.

"I'm clean, Love. I swear I am." His expression is love, exhaustion and lust
mingled. I slowly, slowly lean down over him and lick his lips until he
parts them and sucks my tongue in, making me know just how urgently he wants
me as he puts his soul into the contact of our mouths. I drop to cover him,
running my fingers over his chest to find his nipple, rolling it in my
fingers, and then tugging on it while his breathing grows harsh. Releasing
his hair at last, I draw my hand down across his face, feeling the stubble
on his cheek, and moving down to cup his chin. He moans softly, drawing an
answering tingle from my cock.

I grope under the pillow to find the lube, searching and finally getting my
fingers on the small bottle without breaking the kiss. Flipping the top, I
drizzle the wet, slippery fluid onto Alex's cock, relishing the sharp intake
of breath from him as he discovers how cold it is. My hand grips his penis
then, and slowly, I squeeze and slide it up and down the shaft listening for
the sounds that signal his loss of control. I just love it when he loses
control. We finally break the kiss, and he whimpers. I want to fuck him
senseless. I want to bite him and plough into him until he screams. Instead,
I climb over him straddling his waist and stroking his chest. Then I sit
back, positioning his cock at the opening of my ass so that he can push
home. I lean back and relish that feel of pleasure-pain that lets me know he
is inside me, completely owning my body.

He slides into me, and as I watch his eyes cloud over with lust, my belly
gets that falling elevator sensation all over again. This is where I want to
be forever. He starts to move in me, uttering little, sharp cries as he
thrusts, gently at first, and then faster until he's plunging like he's
running out of time. The feel of his cock filling me tightly, stroking
against my prostate, is giving me the feeling all over again that I'm nearly
there, so I take hold of my own erection, pumping furiously to catch up with
him. His hand comes up then to take over, jerking and pulling in me roughly
as we hurtle towards explosion. I feel the tightening in my balls that means
I am nearly there when he shudders and pushes in so hard that I scream. I
can feel him spurting everything into me, and he shouts my name as he comes,
rigid on the bed. Watching him get off makes me lose it too, and evidence of
my orgasm squirts over his fingers, dripping down until he raises them to
his mouth, sucking them clean. I groan then and bend to kiss him again,
allowing him to slip out of me as his cock returns to its sleeping state.

"I love you. I love you so much." As the words are torn out of me, he
finally pulls me down to lie beside him, his head pillowed on my shoulder as
he cups my jaw to steady the meeting between his lips and mine. I can taste
my semen on him. His usual flavor is faintly there, but the tang of my
sperm, and the musky fragrance of his sweat overlay it.

For a little while he lies with me, mouth to mouth, breathing my breath,
tongues entwined. I put my arms around him, holding him impossibly close,
trying to pull him into me so that I need never lose him again. Finally he
lets go of my chin, snuggles against me and sighs.

"It was all my fault. I seem to destroy everything and everyone in my life.
I nearly killed you, Fox. I can't believe how close I came to losing you. I
don't even want to think about Jeff out there, wanting to kill you because
of what I've done." He gazes up at me, his eyes dark, cloudy with anxiety.

I can only hold him tight. "I love you anyway, babe. I don't want you
getting self-destructive on me. Just stay with me. Don't think too hard
about it. We'll only make it through if we're together. Spender's not going
anywhere just at the moment. Skinner has that under control." Leaning my
face forward, I run my lips over the fine hair of his temple feeling the
tickle of it on my skin. "Please, Love, please don't do anything like this
again. Promise me you'll wait until you know I'm dead and gone before you
react like that?" He closes his eyes. I wait for a minute, but he doesn't
respond.

"I promised you that I wouldn't leave you until the day I stopped loving
you. Now you promise me the same. If you can't give me the same promise, all
bets are off. I can't take not knowing. I'd rather know the worst." I'm
trying to sound gentle, non-threatening, but I can feel him flinch as I
speak, and I stiffen, not knowing what to do.

"Fox, I love you, but I don't know what to say to you. When you were hurt
and I realized it was my fault, I just couldn't go on. I wanted to die, but
I couldn't even do that until I knew you were OK. I can't sleep at night for
fear that you might die. I keep on seeing you as he stabbed you. I keep on
knowing that it never would have happened if not for me. How can I live with
that?" He opens those eyes of his. The pupils are huge again, and he seems
not to see me as I am. I wonder what it is he can see that makes him shiver.
"I promise, for what it's worth, that I will never leave you while I'm still
alive. Not unless you tell me to go. You are mine, and you won't ever escape
from me. I can't promise you that I'm strong, or brave, or anything like
that."

"That isn't enough. You have to promise me that you're not going to run to
drugs, or booze, or other people as soon as anything bad happens. You have
to promise to come to me first. I may not be able to help, but you have to
give me a chance, Alex. That's all I need, just a chance. Promise me." The
shutters are down over his eyes again. The thick lashes curl on his cheeks,
masking his thoughts, shutting me out.

"Alex?" My voice is sharp.

"Fox, I promise."

Locked in each other's arms we fall asleep.
------------------------------------------------------------------------