This story is pure self indulgence. I had been writing a round
robin with Frankie, and we just finally got to posting it (Road
to Nowheresville). I loved the boys so much in that story, that
I couldn't bear them to be condemned to their unhappy ending forever.
Then Rowanne said she wanted a story about Fox being held against
his will, and getting a bubble bath, This is the result. Frankie
may want to produce her own dark view of the sequel, but this
was where I ended up.
Disclaimer...they aren't, and I'm bereft.
Rated NC/17 and you'd better believe that, baby. M/M sex, lots
of M/M sex.
run away, very fast.
Thank you to Rowanne, Orithain, Paula for beta. You guys are my
lifeline and my link to punctuation. Couldn't do it without you.
Plot: The invasion comes and Alex is faced with his chance at
Spoilers: Everything probably. I mean, the boy only has one arm.
Actually, spoilers are mostly for "Road to Nowheresville."
Read that one first if you want to get the full benefit.
Archive: Yeah, as usual, ask me and tell me where.
Feedback: Oh, please....nobody ever sends me feedback any more...and
I'm feeling so depressed..<choke, sob> email@example.com
"For I am weary, and the road is long, and there is many
a mile to go before I sleep."
"Many a Mile" By Dr. Ruthless
There had been a short battle in the end. The aliens had not expected
us to be ready for them, but we were. The vaccine had been disseminated
through clinics, and most of the population was now immune to
the infection, so when they came, they came in vain.
They staged a brief attempt at taking over the Pentagon, the White
House and the other government agencies. Yes, they had studied
us well. They moved in on the bureaucrats first, and it would
have been a good move if not for the vaccine. However, they found
themselves out of luck. The President and all of his merry men
had been long since inoculated. Somewhere down the line, they
invaded the Hoover Building. When they came through, there weren't
many of us there. It was evening. I of course was still in my
office, idly tossing my pencils at the ceiling while I pondered
how my life had stagnated.
Once, years ago I could have had something, been someone, and
maybe I could have found someone to love or who loved me. I don't
know where all of that went, but it's a fact that I'm alone. I
don't have anyone now, only a memory I don't want. Now, I stay
at my desk into the night because I don't want to go home.
People call me Spooky and laugh behind their hands.
So, the evening they invaded, I was at my desk. I wasn't doing
much of anything. I just didn't want to go home alone again. Not
Home alone. Wasn't that supposed to be funny?
When the first pool of black seeped under the door and collected
around my feet, I wasn't really paying attention, and then, as
I felt the crawling, obscene sensation of animated oil on my ankles,
my first thought was that we needed some Raid for the ants.
I swatted irritably at the itchy sensation, then saw the black
ooze on the floor and felt a moment's panic, followed by relief
as it as it dripped from my legs and off my shoes, leaving me.
I was immune, you see. I had been one of the first inoculated,
back in Tunguska. For heaven's sake, they had used my blood to
synthesize the vaccine. I was not in any danger, but I got to
my feet to follow this menace as it rolled away, pseudopodia extending
to carry it back under the door and out.
I could hear screaming from the corridor, and I drew my gun, running
to see if there was any help I could offer to the people in need.
A number of the faceless ones were up in the Bullpen, and more
were advancing down the corridor. Why they were there I don't
know, but they were torching people and there were screams...
Oh, God, the screams, and the smell.
I backed away, not knowing what else to do. Everyone was beyond
my help here. Turning the corner, I was suddenly face to faceless
one and realizing with a sick lurching of my stomach that I might
not live forever after all. I raised my gun to shoot it, knowing
that it wouldn't work but not wanting to go down without a fight.
It advanced on me and raised its 'whatever it was', backing me
into a doorway as it reached out to set me on fire, oh God, on
Then came a movement, faintly caught from the corner of one terrified
eye, a flickering image of a something, a someone behind the monstrosity
that was killing me. It raised a hand to strike the creature in
the back of its neck with a wicked, needle-like device, and the
It fell at my feet, turning green and noxious in an instant, fumes
rising to choke me even as I tried to escape them. I heard a curse
from my dimly seen savior, and then a tide of sparkling blackness
washed away all my thoughts, all my feelings, and I became one
with the dark.
I could hear cursing. Low, rhythmic curses grazed my ears and
disturbed my sleep. There was wetness too, spattering my face,
drumming on my back, and the smell of something like diesel stuck
in my throat and made me cough.
I grunted feebly, unsure where I was or why. The feel of wet hessian
scratched my cheek, and beneath it were rungs of some hard material
that bruised my face as I was bounced and joggled. When I opened
up my eyes I was no wiser. My face was covered, and when I attempted
to move, to straighten up from my uncomfortable crouch, I discovered
that I was bound.
I moaned then, and the cursing stopped for a minute or two. My
resting-place suddenly ceased its joggling progress, and the cursing
voice came low against my ears.
"If you want to live, stay quiet." There was temporary
silence, and then I heard screams and gunfire from the distance,
and there was gunfire returned from close by that deafened me,
sending a sodium glow that bolted though my head.
The sickening, rocking motion resumed, and still I could not move.
I could have yelled, but then it all came flooding back to me,
the smell of cooking flesh, the screams of the burning and the
slick feel of black oil on me, seeking to enter and control me.
I stayed quiet and prayed.
Beside, I knew that voice. I knew it well. I could picture its
owner now, tousled and flushed on my pillow, that soft, rough
voice grating out words of love to me.
Alex. Alex Krycek, who had fucked me and told me he loved me,
and then walked away and left me alone for the rest of my life.
And I hated him, didn't I? Oh, sure I wanted him, always wanted
him, but his price was too high and there would never be enough
of me to pay what he demanded and for that I also hated him.
He had killed the ones I cared about, damaged more, and stolen
from me. He had stolen my love, ripped out my heart, filched the
soul from out of me while all the while I thought I was giving
it to him.
Now he had me tied up, trussed like a fucking tom turkey, and
laid out on some sort of dolly, and he was taking me somewhere,
expecting my compliance in some kind of lunatic kidnapping.
He had saved my life. He had undoubtedly rescued me just as I
was about to become Mulder flambé. I stayed quiet, while
out of my past the ghost of his former self rose up in my mind
to whisper his wicked, loving falsehoods to me.
After a short time the rattling, lurching progress ended, and
I was laid flat for the few minutes it took to do something that
made metal shriek and shrill around me. Then, I heard his grunt
of effort, and I was moving again, laid flat to listen once again
to the squealing and banging of tortured, rusty metal throbbing
through my ears, followed by footsteps that walked away.
Moments later, as an engine started up, I realized that I was
in the back of some kind of truck, and when he pulled away I became
aware that the suspension was totally shot. I jolted and bounced,
feeling more and more sick until eventually we went over a huge
bump in the terrain and my forehead smacked painfully on the thing
to which I was fastened, causing me to see stars. I found myself
fighting back waves of nausea that threatened to overwhelm me.
Some indeterminate time later I blacked out, sinking thankfully
into a place where my cramped limbs and queasy stomach no longer
caused me discomfort.
I became conscious of motion again some time later. This time
the movement was quiet and smooth. I was obviously no longer in
the truck or whatever it had been, and my legs were cramped from
being in the same position for so long. I felt as if I had been
beaten all over, and my head hurt. I had no idea where I was,
and I desperately needed the bathroom.
I yelled his name, or at least I tried to. What came out was rather
more a squeak than a yell, but it served its purpose. Krycek responded,
and at least I knew that the aliens didn't have me. I did, didn't
"It's okay, Mulder, just another couple of minutes and we'll
be safe and I can get you out of there. Hang on." There was
a bump and a lurch and then we were descending, it felt as if
we were in an elevator, dropping smooth and fast, and leaving
my stomach behind on the first floor.
That's when I was sick. Good old fashioned, urgently unwell, the
acid tasting vomit on my clothes producing a stench that added
to my discomfort and ruined my suit. Misery became my middle name
right at that point, and I ceased to think consciously, running
purely on autopilot as I dwelt on my discomfort.
The downward motion finally ceased, and there was a sound that
must have been the door to the elevator. We moved again, and then
the dolly was laid down again. At last, I felt hands fumbling
with the stuff that covered my face.
He drew the sacking away from me, and I could see. For a minute
I was content merely to gulp down fresh air and try to quell the
queasiness that rose over me in waves. As they subsided, I found
that I could see without my head swimming. I turned my head and
tried to check out my surroundings.
He was kneeling down beside me, traitorous face set in simulated
concern. He was leaning over me, dubiously eyeing the mess I was
in, and I wanted to stretch my legs so badly I could not stop
myself from whimpering in pain. He smiled at me.
"It's okay, baby, you're going to feel fine in a minute.
Just hang in there." He disappeared from my field of vision
for a minute, and I suddenly felt my legs free up. I stretched
them out, moaning as the cramps hit me, but probably more grateful
than I've been in my life for the small mercy I'd just been shown.
I felt a sudden sting in my thigh, and then he returned, showing
sharp, white teeth in a feral smile.
"That will relax you, baby. It will help the cramps."
He grinned. "Stay there. Don't go away." As I opened
my lips to toss some barbed and acid comment at him, he sauntered
off, permitting me to see that physically he had changed very
little. He was still beautiful, slim, strong with an athlete's
body and a walk reminiscent of jungle cats. He was sleek, sinuous,
and utterly dangerous.
I lay unmoving in my own vomit, a picture of misery, bound by
tape to a metal barrow. He left me there on the floor and went
away somewhere. I cursed his name. I cursed him from his sleek
head to his tight ass. I reviled him with every obscenity I could
think of and some that I invented just for him. Towards the end
of my monologue he reappeared and stood grinning at me. I discussed
his birth, his person, his antecedents and his habits. I did it
in English, and then in Hebrew, following it with Spanish. I was
just working my way through the very few truly evil phrases of
Navajo I knew when the bastard laughed, interrupting my diatribe
and my train of thought.
"Come on, Fox, the sooner you finish yakking, the sooner
I can get you into a bath, and you sorely need a bath." His
tone was mild, and he stood, watching for my response. I shut
up, closing my mouth with a snap, hoping, praying that he was
going to let me up. A bath sounded like heaven right at that moment,
and I really, really wanted it.
He knelt again, and I felt him working away at the tape that bound
me to the cart, until finally I was loose. At that point I realized
that somewhere along the lime my arms and legs had ceased to belong
to me. I tried to stand and would have had as much success getting
silly putty to hold a shape.
He looked at me for a minute, chewing his lower lip while he pondered.
I grunted and tried to stand again. This time, with much assistance
from him, I managed to achieve the vertical, or at least an angle
that was somewhat close. I believe I made it with a list to starboard
of around 23 degrees. I was leaning heavily on him; his arm was
around my waist as I stood, teetering on the feet that somehow
no longer seemed to feel they owed me any allegiance.
Together we progressed, he half dragging me as he led me to a
bathroom. When he had left earlier, he had gone to fill the bathtub,
and bubbles (bubbles? Good lord!) foamed out over the rim of the
tub, while steam rose to gladden my heart. I wanted to be in there
so badly a tear ran down my cheek.
There was something the matter with me. I'm sometimes prone to
anger, I know, but this was different. I seemed to be emotionally
labile. What was going on? Then it struck me. That sting in my
The bastard had drugged me. He had slipped me some kind of tranquilizer,
and now I was fucked up. There was nothing I could do until I
recovered, if he let me. If he didn't keep on jabbing that old
needle into me whenever I started to come out of it. I wondered
why I was here and was suddenly frightened.
He sat me down on the toilet seat and started to undress me, stinking
and unwholesome as I was. I was unable to offer much in the way
of assistance, being as much help to him as a pot of spaghetti,
and after a brief attempt to do things correctly had gotten him
liberally spattered with my body fluids, he drew his knife and
cut my clothing from me.
He was in the act of transferring me to the tub, and I whimpered
again, needing to empty my bladder. My cock was heavy and full
with the need to piss. I could see him checking it out, but he
said nothing as I finally forced my mouth to obey me.
"Pee... have to... " He laughed softly then at my distress
and turned me towards the bowl, raising the seat and then holding
me so that the stream of urine, when I finally was able to let
it go, arced down into the toilet and not on the floor. As my
bladder emptied, I got that warm feeling that sometimes travels
up between the shoulder blades to the back of one's neck. My scalp
tingled and the pleasure of it made me moan even while somewhere
inside the further recesses of my psyche, I could hear the voice
of reason telling me this was all wrong and a traitor had his
hand around my dick.
"Better, baby?" He turned to me again, back towards
the tub. I was guided and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub,
bubbles tickling my butt as he held onto me. I giggled and he
looked down at me, green eyes tender, lying, always lying.
"Oh, Fox, I've missed you so much. I still love you. I never
stopped loving you." I could see sadness in his eyes now,
but he was still a traitor, and how I felt about him was not at
Escape was the issue. Escape was the only issue here. I needed
to get away from this lying bastard who held my cock for me and
stroked my hair as he told me he loved me. I needed to get him
out of my life, cut away like the cancer he was before he infected
me once more and I hurt again. I needed to drive him out of my
I couldn't, wouldn't let him know that I still, after all these
years, loved him so much I had never been able to find a way to
He eased me around so that I was sitting facing the bath with
my legs in the water, and then he slowly lowered me down into
the water. It stole up my skin, little explosions of sensual pleasure
making me shudder as I sat in the deep water with the bubbles
all around me. There was a pause as he stepped back, and then
I felt myself slipping helplessly under. I must have made a sound,
because he was back at my side in a flash and holding onto me
to keep me from slipping further.
Then, he let me go while he ripped off his clothing, confronting
me with his naked, scarred, beautiful body. In another second
he was into the tub behind me, and I was leaning back in his arms
as he held me to his chest and nuzzled into my neck. It felt like
coming home. It was so perfect I wanted to cry. I wanted to turn
my head and kiss him. I wanted to kill him for doing this to me.
I did nothing.
"This feels so good, Fox. I remember bathing you once before
when you couldn't help yourself. God, baby, I wish we could just
go back then. I wish we could do it all differently. I love you
so much." His arm was round me, and I felt so safe. Stupid
to feel safe when the biggest turncoat in the world was holding
me in his treacherous arms.
"No... " I struggled to speak, mouth full of cotton
wool as my skin thrilled under his touch. Grabbing the soap, he
began to run it over my chest and shoulders, slicking up my skin
with soap and removing the foul smelling debris from my earlier
bout of illness. He allowed his hand to slide over my skin for
a while and then took a face cloth and began rinsing my shoulders,
cleaning out my ears and finally washing my face.
All the while he was talking to me. He kept up a slow, gentle
monologue about how much he loved me, how much he wanted me, and
how he was so glad he'd managed to save me. He kept on returning
to how much he loved me.
Yeah, right! I tried to speak again, to tell him to blow it out
his ears, but the stuff he had put into my system had by this
time really taken hold of me and I couldn't get it together. I
felt wonderful, relaxed and floating, but my mouth was full of
cotton wool, and every inch of my skin tingled with delight as
he kept on touching me, sly, gentle touches as if he didn't know
what he was doing.
My chin became an erogenous zone as he passed the washcloth over
it. My arms tingled, sending shockwaves clean through to my groin
when he stroked them gently, sluicing the soap from them. When
he began to run the soap over my chest and belly, all I could
do was moan and arch into his touch, leaning backwards to pillow
my head on his shoulder.
He turned his head to look at me again, one eyebrow raised and
a sardonic smile on his face as his breath puffed onto my cheek
making me shudder.
""You're starting to feel pretty good now. I can tell.
It's a side effect of the drug I gave you. It doesn't hit everyone,
but when it does, it really gets you. I'm sorry, baby. It's okay
though, I won't take advantage of you while you're under the influence.
It's you I want, not a bunch of chemically induced responses."
He placed his hand under my chin and turned his head to kiss me
once, lips soft and clinging against mine, but withdrew swiftly
when I tried to deepen the kiss.
"No, baby, don't. You'll hate yourself in the morning. Tomorrow,
if you kiss me like that again, I'll give you anything you want,
but not right now." He drew away from me, pushing me up so
I was sitting forward and starting to soap up my back. I could
hear that he was breathing harshly, and sitting the way I was
had pressed my buttocks back in between his thighs. I could feel
how my proximity was affecting him, and I contrived to slip a
little, press myself back into him. My body clamored for his touch
even as a faint, little, faraway voice kept telling me that I
My cock was responding to the feel of the water and the touch
of his hands on my body. I was desperate for some kind of relief,
and I managed to move laboriously until my hand was curled loosely
around it. I tried to grip, tried really hard as it throbbed urgently
under my hand, but it was to no avail. My fingers would only flex
so much, and then they stuck. At that particular moment it seemed
to me to be the greatest tragedy in the world. I felt so good,
so totally sensual, and I couldn't finish myself off. I couldn't
get myself off, and the man who I would have expected to have
no qualms at all about taking advantage of my condition was behaving
in a peculiarly noble manner, and was refusing even to kiss me.
Tears trickled down from my eyes, and I sobbed out loud as I dwelt
on how sorry for myself I felt. I was remembering how he had felt
when he used to make love to me. He heard me and leaned forward
to put his arm around me once more, pulling me back to lie against
him. My head was pillowed on his left shoulder, and his arm circled
me, his long, elegant fingers drawing small circles on my chest.
He held me close and placed a soft kiss on my right ear, then
he lifted the plug out of its socket to allow the bath water to
begin running away.
Have you ever lain in a bathtub and allowed the water to drain
all around you? I never had before that night, but believe me,
I have done since.
It tickled all of my nerve endings. It crept down over every inch
of my hypersensitive skin, grazing my erection and down between
my thighs until I was so hard and desperate to come that I jerked
and twitched in a desperate battle to tighten my hand. He looked
down at that point and saw my dilemma. His hand slid down to cover
mine, tightening my fingers enough so that I could feel the tide
rising inside of me.
It took only four or five quick, squeezing pulls, and the flood
of my orgasm shook me, heat radiating out from the center of my
body to my extremities as I felt our combined hands, fingers laced,
bring me off.
He whispered gently then that he loved me and rose from the tub
and quickly used a washcloth to tidy up the signs of my ejaculation.
Then he wrapped himself in a towel, quickly covering up the stiff,
red, beautiful pole of an erection he was sporting.
Getting out of the tub was not easy. He helped, but I was so floppy
and helpless that it took a while before I was out of the tub
and dried. He had put his jeans back on but had not yet replaced
the shirt I had soiled. My clothes were in such an awful state
I didn't think I would be able to wear them again. He had cut
them to shreds. Goodbye Armani! He led me past them and out the
door to another room in which there was a bed. There, he laid
me down and covered me with a duvet before backing off and leaving
me alone with my thoughts.
When he returned, he was carrying a bowl of corn chowder and a
savory scone. He banked up pillows, bringing me upright enough
to swallow safely and then began to spoon the stuff into me.
I was hungry and the food was so good. I finished it all and then
looked around for liquid. I was thirsty in a way that you would
not believe. Looking at him, I wondered why he was here and why
he was nursemaiding me. I had no idea where "here" might
be, but it felt to me as if it were underground.
"Unnnh.. " Licking my lips, I tried by some means to
communicate telepathically how much I needed a drink. With a little
focus, I found that I could in fa his left shoulder ct articulate
"Please_water_ " I lay back, pleased with myself, and
he disappeared carrying the empty bowl and plate. He returned
with a bottle of water and a cup of something hot that, once the
smell reached me, I knew to be coffee. He climbed up alongside
me on the bed and got behind me, pillowing my head on his left
shoulder while he reached for the water bottle and placed it to
I drank greedily, and by the time I was done, the bottle was empty.
He made no move to release me but lay there, holding me, fingers
gently stroking my arm. I could feel him against my ear, lips
gently grazing the skin behind it again and again as we lay together.
I gathered my facial muscles again, forcing them to shape the
words that he must be expecting from me.
"Why?" His hand didn't pause in its gentle movement
up and down my limbs, though he turned his head towards me so
that the tickle of his breath invaded my ear. When he spoke his
voice was low and husky, his words rapid as if he were trying
to say it all to me before he regretted it.
"Why are you here? That's an easy one. You're here because
I brought you. I love you, Fox. I've never stopped loving you,
but time and circumstance have come between us. I've wanted to
show you I still love you for so many years, but somehow I've
never been in the right place at the right time, and yet another
fistfight has always been the easy option. I've never been able
to hold my own against you because I can't bring myself to hurt
"I got you out of there tonight because I'd rather die myself
than lose you. I brought you here because I wanted a few hours
to tell you, to show you how much I love you. I do, you know.
I really do love you." His voice caught a little, and he
fell quiet. From where I lay, I couldn't see his face. I had no
way of knowing whether he was smiling his wild smile, pleased
that he was making a fool of me.
But I wasn't going to fall for it this time. He wouldn't bring
me down with him. I didn't care any more. I no longer lost sleep
over him. I no longer spent my days picturing him the way he used
to be once. Before he betrayed me.
I didn't spend any time at all remembering how he used to lie
in my arms or call my name or fuck me.
And here I was in his arms again, and fighting for my life.
"No, I don't_ " It took me a minute to get my tongue
around the words, and he waited patiently while I formed each
sound. His patience impressed me momentarily. I had been so convinced
that he needed instant gratification that he surprised me. Then,
I really thought back on how he used to be. I recalled him on
stake-outs, unmoving, focused, and reflected that there was no
I felt like a mouse in my mousehole waiting for the cat to pounce.
I chuckled at the image I had, and he squeezed me a little.
"What, babe?" His voice was everything I remembered
and more. He was seductive, tender, a liar and a cheat. It took
me an effort and something very close to pain before I slurred
out words to answer him.
"Feel like Tom and Jerry." He looked at me, bewildered
for the moment, the crease along the top of his nose a testimony
to his thought processes.
"You mean the cat and mouse? Yeah, it's been bizarre, hasn't
it? Can't we go back and stop hating each other? Can't we stop
hurting each other?" His voice brushed quietly over my skin,
raising the small hairs on the back of my arms. His hand followed,
smoothing them away, and drawing whimpers form me as everything
within me began to tense again and my blood sang desire for him,
for anyone, anyone who would touch me right now.
I turned my head to look at him. His face was drawn. He really
cared, and I had been lonely for so long. I almost did, I almost
leaned forward to kiss him, and then I saw an image of my father,
lying in his blood on the bathroom floor. There was this between
us, and it always would be there. He had killed my father, and
how could I possibly forgive or forget? His blood lay between
us in a lake so wide I could not cross it. For my father, for
Melissa and most of all for Dana Scully who has to live on without
the things she values, I would not take him back.
The moment passed. He checked his watch. I could see that it was
now 2 am. At last he touched my face gently, laid a small, chaste
kiss on my cheekbone and then removed himself, permitting me to
lie back on the pillow.
"Fox, in a few hours the drug will wear off, and then we'll
be on even terms, you and I. I won't drug you again. I promise.
I just wanted you to know how much I love you before we started
to do the testosterone tango." At that, he turned and left
the room. I felt bereft, but there was no help for it, and I finally
In my dreams I was running through trees and bushes that tore
at my skin, snatching at me as I ran. Always just out of reach
was someone I knew I had to find, someone who would be able to
tell me why everything was as it was. I tossed and turned in my
sleep and think that I cried out, until I felt a warm body pressed
against me and strong arms holding me close.
"Alex?" My dream was real, perfect, and I seemed to
curl into a loving embrace.
"Hush, darling. I'm here. Nobody can hurt you now. I won't
let them." Warm and safe, perfectly protected, I drifted
down again into sleep.
When I woke, I was alone. Groping around in the darkness I could
feel no sign of warmth to indicate that he had been there with
me through the night and yet I could still feel him pressed against
me. The thought of how safe I had felt in his arms made my hair
stand on end.
I was not going to think about this any more. All I wanted or
needed I could find without Alex Krycek.
Who was I kidding? I had never been able to leave him behind.
I loved him. I had never stopped, and that was why I was still
alone now. That was why I was going to be alone forever more.
I sat up, and my body obeyed me. I leaped out of bed, and everything
worked once more. After the nightmare of the night before, helpless
and unable to move, I was profoundly grateful to find my mobility
unimpaired this morning.
I fumbled for the lamp beside the bed and flipped on the light,
turning to look at the bed I had rested in. The pillows bore a
faint depression as if another head had lain alongside mine.
It was real. He must have been with me through the night. I shuddered,
recalling how desperate I had been, and how warm and protected
I had felt with his arms around me, and his body warm on mine.
I could not, would not think about it.
I looked around for clothing of any kind and contemplated stripping
off the bedsheet, but then decided that would be foolish. I went
to the door and opened it, hearing an alarm bell sound once somewhere
to my right as I did so. I went through to the corridor, trying
to orient myself. He appeared a little way down the corridor and
greeted me with a smile.
"Fox, come on down here, baby, and I'll get you breakfast.
You must be starving." I frowned and shrugged.
"I need clothes. You got any?" He held the door open
for me, and I found myself in what was obviously his room. He
waved me over to sit on his still unmade bed. I frowned. Was I
dreaming still? Had he been with me?
He began opening drawers, passing me a pair of boxers, a T-shirt,
and then jeans that were a pretty good fit. I put them on and
felt better, as if the clothing were somehow armor to me.
He had left the room while I was dressing, and now I looked around
the room, noting books, books on every subject, but many on natural
history, wilderness survival and the like. Idly, I flipped up
the book he had been reading and checked its title. "War
of the Worlds"? Oh, well.
He had music too, tapes and CDs from all kinds of musical genres.
Baroque and funk, jazz and metal were mingled. He had catholic
By the bedside stood a photograph, and I felt a lump in my throat
as I looked at it. He and I stood, sunlit and smiling. It had
been taken on a trip down to New Mexico during the brief time
we had been partners. We were both wearing our sunglasses, and
it was astonishing how happy we looked. He and I had not yet become
lovers, and my life had still not undergone that wrenching 180-degree
twist that would change things completely. A week later I would
be brutally raped and beaten, and Alex, my partner, would become
Our love affair had lasted for only a few brief months before
he had betrayed me. He had vanished from my bed, from my life,
but not from my heart, never from my heart.
Now here he was, and here I was, six years later, and I still
loved him. I just couldn't bear to think about the things that
lay between us. I wanted to leave. I wanted to go now and forget
him again if I could.
"Would you like breakfast?" He was standing behind me,
a tray in his hand, and on the tray were orange juice and coffee.
He proffered it to me and I took the juice, gratefully. I was
still thirsty, so thirsty. Drinking it made me feel better, and
I traded my empty glass for the mug of coffee. Then I faced him
"Why am I here? They'll look for me, you know?" He smiled
again and shook his head, turning to go back out of the room.
"They will assume you were burned unless we tell them otherwise,
you know that. Come on. Breakfast is this way." We went back
into the corridor, and he led me to a kitchen, large enough to
feed a hotel full of guests. Places had been set at a table against
one wall, and Alex_ when did I start thinking of him as Alex again?_
indicated that I should go and sit.
He busied himself, and within minutes I was eating an omelet stuffed
with cheese and peppers. I was hungry and polished my plate. He
cooked well. When he joined me at the table, we ate in silence
for a while. Then he began to tell me about the facility we were
He told me about the demise of the Syndicate. He told me how he
and I together were the only ones left in the world who could
defeat the rebels. I thought that the inoculations had done the
trick and said so. He shook his head.
"No, babe. The inoculation is fine against the black oil,
but the shapeshifters will take us over. It's something we can't
wait around to see. We need to act now. There's no time to let
them spread, or we,re doomed. The man in the street can't tell
who they are. They look like you or I until you pierce their skin.
It's only when they bleed that you know. Until now." He gave
me a mysterious, conspiratorial look and then waved the coffee
carafe at me. Wordlessly I pushed my mug forward. I was beginning
to feel as if I were still drugged, still hallucinating. Somehow
the world had taken a sudden lurch sideways, and I was now officially
nuts, crazy, bananas, insane. Maybe I could do this. Maybe after
all I could do whatever I wanted because none of it was real.
I was drugged, or I was dead, and this moment was fantasy. "I'll
show you everything when we're finished eating."
We finished breakfast, and then I helped him clean up. The place
was tidy once more when he took me into an office lined with computers
and monitors. He clicked on CNN, and together we watched the electrons
as they re-enacted for us the story of the night before.
There was devastation. Many of the buildings in downtown DC had
burned, and there were charred bodies still lying in the street.
The reporters seemed to be confident that the invasion was contained.
Alex was not so sure. He turned to me.
"It isn't contained. It will be but it isn't yet. We can
beat them, Fox, only you and I together." He was so serious.
His beautiful eyes were hazy, and he was looking at something
far beyond this place and time. I was suddenly afraid. The cold
clutch of terror thrilled my gut. The truth was no longer out
there somewhere, it was in here with me, and its name was Alex
I turned to him then and asked him what he meant, and he told
me everything. He told me about the rebel ship, and the way it
had to be destroyed. He showed me the devices that he had for
detecting the presence of the shapeshifters as they walked the
streets wearing their borrowed humanity like party outfits. He
showed me how to kill them. Then, he told me what he was going
to do. He begged for my help, and all I could do was look at him,
thoroughly miserable. I was going to lose him again, more finally
and dreadfully than I had thought possible.
I turned to him then and put my hand on my shoulder. He lifted
his head, and his eyes came back to the here and now. I leaned
forward to place my lips on his and surprised a look of utter
joy on his face before our mouths touched and my lips found their
home. I had come full circle. He had been my lover, and I had
lost him, or he had lost me. Now, one more time we would be lovers
and then he would go to his death while I went to mine, and hopefully
the world would be human at the end of it.
"Alex, I love you. I still love you." He was going to
die, and nothing I could do would save him. Why is it that you
never realize what you have until it's too late? I slipped my
arms around his waist and pulled him in to me, and he covered
my mouth with his while his hand wandered over my back. How could
I ever have thought that this was not for me? His lips were soft
and warm, and clung to mine with despair. I relished the feel
of his lips as I held him to me, then I slipped a hand behind
his head, holding it steady while I turned my face to deepen the
kiss. His lips parted at last, allowing me to drive inside with
my tongue, hot and needy, searching out the sweetness of his saliva,
finding his own tongue and sucking on it until he began to moan.
Sometimes a kiss is all that's needed. Once in a blue moon we
can be certain, and in the mingling of breath with breath we can
know the truth.
Alex tasted of truth to me. His mouth seared me, cauterized me,
stripped me of poisons and gave me back myself. I could not stop
myself from pulling him closer, sucking his tongue into me to
tease and stroke. Every little part of me needed to touch him,
and my body remembered his gratefully, generating waves of pleased
I don't know how long it was. I don't know when the kissing ceased
to be enough and we began to pull at each other's clothing, trying
to feel the silken thrill of skin beneath fingertips.
It was as if we were fighting, and in a way we were. We were fighting
time, fighting the past, fighting the sure, bitter knowledge that
this would be the only time for all eternity that he and I could
have this before we died.
There came a point when we broke apart, gasping for air, and he
took me by the hand to lead me back into his bedroom. He turned
back to face me and sank to his knees, arm around my waist and
face nuzzling into the soft, much washed denim of the jeans I
wore. Beneath the denim I was aroused, of course, and my stiff
cock was aching, eager for the pressure of his face. I fought
with button and zipper, running my fingers through his hair as
he raised his head to meet my gaze. I saw tears in his eyes, and
a smile, such a sweet smile. At that point all my fear and hatred
of him burned away and left me stripped clean and sparkling with
I tore off my clothes and pulled him up to treat him the same
way. His little cries and gasping breaths were an aphrodisiac
so intense that my head spun. Finally naked, I growled and turned
him, laying us down on the bed and stretching my body along his
so that I could feel the hard, muscled length of him writhing
beneath me as his hard penis nuzzled and slid against my own.
I snaked my arms under his armpits, behind his shoulders so that
my hands cupped the back of his head and held him captive there
while I began to devour him. Systematically I explored every crevice,
remembering the hollow and dip of his eye socket, the gentle curve
of his cheek, and the pleased flippancy of the little nose, recalling
with relish the prickle of his unshaven chin. My mouth knew the
exact contours of his lips and came down on them, demanding that
they fit, thrilling when they did so.
At last, at last I needed to move lower, and his throat offered
itself to my grazing teeth. His nipples stood proud as I pinched
and tweaked, tiny peaks that gave themselves gladly to my teeth,
and to my tongue, as I catalogued his responses, finding them
just as I remembered.
His fingers scampered like mice on my back and through my hair.
I could feel the breaths shuddering in and out of him as I slid
lower to cushion my head on his belly. I tasted his dimpled navel
and rubbed my face into the soft, golden down that began below
his navel and traveled south in an increasingly curled, crisp
mass to erupt around his genitals like a tangle of silk. His cock
stood proud, nudging against my lips, and the tip glistened, jewels
of moisture shining as they pearled on it.
I lapped the gleaming surface, and he cried out, fingers burrowed
into my hair. I looked up at him, and a lump came to my throat
when I saw him arched and splayed, offering himself to me like
a sacrifice. And sacrifice he would be, a sacrifice for humanity,
I dipped my head to run my tongue over his balls and then lower
as he raised his knees for me. I tongued the tightly puckered
bud that was his anus, lapping up along his perineum, and upwards
to mouth along the shaft of his penis.
He groaned out my name and again when I opened my lips to suck
him inside my mouth. He tasted so good, so damned good, and I
tilted my head back to take him down into my throat. I swallowed
hard against his length as I felt the contractions in his testicles
and along the shaft that let me know he was close to letting it
all go for me.
I slid my mouth up and down as I sucked on him, pausing at the
top of each stroke to slide my tongue around the blunt and begging
head of him. It took only a couple more minutes before finally
my mouth filled with hot jets of fluid and he thrust hard into
me, screaming my name as he came.
I continued to lick and suck him, cleaning each trace of his sperm
from him. I bathed his somewhat deflated cock and expanded my
range to take in his balls, the inside of his thighs, and the
crease at his groin that looked so inviting I wanted to run my
tongue the length of it.
He lay recovering, chest heaving and legs flung apart, totally
disheveled. I surveyed the wreckage of him with satisfaction.
I had never seen him look so abandoned, so wanton, so sexy.
"Baby, I'm fucked, totally fucked." There was a laugh
in his voice as he spoke, and his attitude of sensuality belied
his protestations of exhaustion. "You're going to have to
give me a minute or two to recover, I don't think I could even
raise a smile at the moment." I laughed at him and grabbed
for the lube that sat on the nightstand, then I took hold of his
feet, massaging and kissing them. I took his big toe into my mouth,
swirling my tongue around it and trying to hold on as he kicked
and yelled. Then I flipped him over and pulled his hips up to
meet me as I moved between his thighs and poured the lubricant
onto my hand.
He stretched and flexed himself once, for all the world like a
cat, and then like a cat, lay down, permitting me to stroke and
I licked at the little patch of golden down that lay at the base
of his spine, just where the swell of his buttocks began. My hand
went to caress the length of the groove between his buttocks,
slick fingers touching him along the cleft until they found the
opening and slipped inside him.
I knelt over him, fucking him with my fingers, slow and easy,
adding more and more slick until he was open and whimpering, lifting
himself up into my touch. He was pushing himself back onto my
fingers as I slipped them in, moaning each time I withdrew them
He was mine. He could never belong to anyone else ever again.
It was my name torn from his throat as I stroked him and me for
whom he was spread out like a feast.
I couldn't wait any longer. I pulled back on his hips until he
was kneeling, pert ass in the air, open for me, and I kissed the
round, muscled swell of his buttocks before rearing up to add
slick to my longing, needy cock.
Slipping home past that tight ring of muscle to drive in, into
the depths of him, was easy and wonderful. His body warmed me
'til I wanted to scream, and I bit my lip, tensing myself against
the gorgeous veil of sweet sensation that drifted up and down
my spine, not daring to give into it yet. I needed to know more
of him, wanted everything he could give before I would finally
let myself go.
I froze, my cock sending slippery, tingling messages to me, and
Alex whimpered as he tried to push back onto me again.
"Don't, Alex. Can't hold it if you do." I could hear
my voice from a long way off, and it sounded muted as the blood
drummed rhythm into my ears.
I tried to relax, falling inch by tiny inch inside of him until
I felt my belly pressed tight to him, and at last I was where
I began to rock the tiniest bit, in and out while spun skeins
of pleasure drifted, sparking, from the tip of my cock to the
root of it and back through between my legs. Alex felt so good,
so fucking good, so hot, and slippery, and sweet, and I needed
more. I pulled out and slid back, hearing him speaking in some
strange language, his voice vibrating through me to pluck at my
balls as he growled encouragement to me.
I couldn't stop now. I hunched over him, fucking him hard, slamming
myself into him with every ounce of energy I had. He began to
keep up a running commentary then, his husky voice harsh as he
demanded more from me.
"God, Fox....fuck me! Make me yours...oh, please...more...Do
it to me...deeper, let me feel you...oh, God." and this last
as I reached to take hold of his cock, jerking his hardness in
time with my thrusts. I tried to hold back for him, knowing that
any minute, any second I would come, and then it would be over
Over forever more but I wanted it. Needed it and his body clenched
on me as he strained back while his prick spat sticky liquid.
My balls drew in, squeezed impossibly and sent me flying, whirling,
incapable of thought as all my nerve endings sang together and
I forgot everything in the fusion of love, desire and completion
that made the moment perfect.
Arched together for a fleeting instant as the orgasm raced through
me, stripping me of muscle tone and thought. I knew that I was
the biggest fool in the universe and that there was no longer
a choice. I had pissed away my choices, and now I could only give
him this very last echo of my love.
Then I pitched forward to lie over him, unable to do more than
kiss where my lips touched him and stroke with tender fingers
the flesh where my hands found themselves lying.
"I love you."
"Who do you think you are? Princess Leia?"
"No, you're Leia, I'm Han Solo."
"The hell you are!"
I think I slept, still linked a little, but finally he groaned
and moved out from beneath me, complaining gently about my weight.
I rolled to the side and opened my arms to him, welcoming him
into them. I wrapped him up and folded him against every
part of me while I sought for and found his mouth.
The day passed by in a blur. We rose to eat, though neither
of us really cared what we were consuming, and our plates were
by no means empty when I finally dropped my fork and moved to
kneel beside him, my face pillowed on his shoulder.
"Fox, we have to get going now, lover. We don't have
any more time."
Cold ran skittering down from my scalp to my knees at the sound
of his words.
Already the love of my life was over and done. In a few
more hours he would be gone, and then only an electronic memory
in the FBI database would testify to his existence. Nobody
would ever know what he had done for us, and nobody would be left
to think of him kindly, because I would not outlive him for long.
I would follow him as soon as I could.
Together we dressed in dark clothing, stopping often to touch,
or kiss, or hug, reaffirming to each other that we cared.
He produced the two tiny, watch-like indicators that had been
developed to detect the shape shifters, and then gave them to
me, along with the gimlet device with which they could be killed.
I was to take the two gadgets to Skinner so that he and I could
clean up the residual presence of the aliens once Alex, my Alex,
had taken out their mother ship and with it their hopes of any
successful invasion in the foreseeable future.
He had armed himself with an explosive device I didn't fully understand,
but which would combine with the forces that powered the alien
vessel to make an explosion that would destroy it utterly.
In order to get it to its destination, Alex would have to go into
the alien ship, right to its heart, and
introduce his device to the power source. Unfortunately,
the effect when this process was complete would be instantaneous.
There would be no returning for Alex.
"Alex, let me go instead. I can't make it without you."
My eyes were wet, and I could not keep from blinking back the
tears as I tried to imagine living on without him.
"Not possible, darling, I'm sorry. They know me.
They think I'm helping them. They will let me in if they
think I have something to tell them. They would just incinerate
you and have done with it." He looked tired, his lips
a little swollen from my kisses and his eyes a little bright as
he watched me. "Come on love. We have to do it
now before they disperse and we lose the chance."
Together we turned our back on the consortium lab facility and
headed for the elevator I had only been able to guess at the previous
night. I held his hand, and our fingers laced together,
twining hopelessly. Out we went into the dying afternoon.
Handfast, we walked to the truck in which he had brought me, and
he released my hand only when we were ready to climb in.
He leaned me up against the truck and covered my mouth with his,
pressing kiss-bruised lips to mine yet again while he held me.
"It was always you, my Fox." His whisper clawed
at my heart, sharp as fishhooks, and I felt the lump rising in
my throat as I tried to memorize all the feel of him for the time
that was to come. I could only stare dumbly at him.
He nodded, leaned in to kiss my eyes, and climbed into the truck.
I took the passenger's seat. We had a long way to travel.
The afternoon was drawing to a close. There had been rain,
and the sky had cleared to a watery blue with a pale sun seen
faded though the gauze of a haze. There was no trace of
movement in the air, and it wasn't really cold, though from time
to time I shivered.
I slid along the bench seat until my side was pressed to him and
I could lay my head on his shoulder, grateful to be able to touch
him for a little while longer. As he started the truck and
pulled away, it felt as if something had gone forever. I
moaned, and he turned to press a kiss onto my hair.
"There's no other way. We have to do it like this."
He tuned in the radio, and we managed weak smiles at each other
as we sang along with old rock tunes.... Well, he sang, I kinda
groaned, but then I never could carry a tune in a bucket.
At one point the noise I was making was so awful that he burst
God, Fox, if you don't stop that, I'm afraid I'm going to have
to kill you." I made a face at him, making him giggle.
He slowed, pulled over to the side of the road, turned to me and
pulled me to him, savagely, mouth avid and tasting of tears.
"I love you so much, darling. I will come back to you
one way or another. Count on it." When we started
up again, my eyes were red with weeping and we sang no more songs.
He talked then, and I listened, fascinated, while he told me all
the things I had never known about him until now. I heard
of his childhood, his first love, his reasons for joining the
consortium, and his subsequent actions. He left out nothing.
There was no more reason for hiding who he was.
Some of the things he told me made me stare. He had been
so promising, so brave, and so convenient for the old men who
had used him, tried to kill him, and then washed their hands of
him, and yet he had outlived them all save for one. I made
myself a promise right then that the monster that had ensured
Alex would end up here, tonight, heading for his death, would
not outlive him by more than a day. I would kill him with
my own hands.
It was the only thing I could do for Alex
Another hour and we finally reached the place where Alex was to
meet Jeremiah Smith. Smith was a shapeshifter, but Alex
felt that he would be helpful in getting him into the alien vessel.
He pulled the truck to a stop, and turned to me. No time
to cry now, I needed to hang on for him, and if he were giving
his life, the least I could give him was my love and a smile.
"Listen, love. This is where you have to trust me.
This is where I get out of the truck, and you have approximately
half an hour to put as many miles as you can between yourself
and the blast. It will probably produce a crater 5 miles
wide when it blows, but I want you at least 30 miles away, darling,
or you'll be in danger. Promise me that you'll get out of
here and not try to second-guess me? We really need that
clean up operation starting as soon as possible. Zhelayu
uspyehov." I looked at him, my heart still too full
for words and he climbed out of the truck, as did I. He
strode rapidly to the front of the truck, catching me by the shoulder
and pulling me into his embrace
for the last time. I saw his eyes wet, and I know that the
tears were rolling down my face as we kissed goodbye, then the
tell-tale prickle of the warning device on the back of my wrist
indicated proximity to a shapeshifter, and I jumped. He
cupped my chin in his hand one last time before he turned and
moved towards the man that loomed up in the twilight, and I heard
Alex greet him as the two of them were swallowed by shadows.
He was really gone. Oh, God, I couldn't bear it.
I was functioning on autopilot as I started up the truck and swung
it around, gunning the engine and heading off in the direction
of DC. The drive was a blur, seen through tears, and I made
great progress because I really didn't care whether I lived or
I told myself I would know when the spark that was his life went
out. I told myself I would feel when the love that bound
us together was severed. I drove like a bat out of hell
towards Skinner and Scully, wanting to hand them the detectors
and the weapons so I could go and kill the Cancerman, and then
follow Alex to wherever we might be headed. The blast took
longer, much longer than I had imagined. He had underestimated
the time it would take to get the bomb to its destination.
For a while I thought that he must have been discovered and killed.
I was just crossing the city limits into DC when the blast came.
There was a roar, and the road shook. I fought for control
of Alex's truck and succeeded barely in keeping it on the road.
The sky flashed white, and I knew then that it was all over.
All over for my love.
All over for me.
I headed into Skinner's office as soon as I had parked.
He was still there, of course, and so was Scully. They were
surprised to see me. They had believed me dead, but both
of them seemed to be happy to see me still among the living.
They were both inclined to be skeptical of my story, but CNN was
already reporting the explosion that had devastated a huge area
of Virginia, and they had to accept it as true. I handed
my prizes over to Skinner, who insisted that I retain one of the
detectors. I told the two of them that I was going to go
and get some sleep before embarking with them on the clean up
operation the next day, and they seemed to accept my words.
I went in search of the lying, calculating, evil bastard who had
done this to Alex.
When I found him, I knew that it was my right to kill him.
He asked me why I was there. I had faced him with a gun
before, and the bastard didn't believe that I had it in me to
kill him. I told him that I was there for Alex, and then
I put two bullets into his brain.
It was easy. I pulled the trigger and he fell.
Then I walked away.
I went to a bar and drank until I was reeling, and they threw
me out, then I went home. I staggered into my apartment
and fell onto the couch. I had not bothered to close the
door, and I did not undress. I merely poured myself down
into a lying position and lay feeling the room whirl around me.
Presently I began to cry, great gulping sobs as the hard knot
of misery lay tight in my chest. The phone rang and I left
it to ring. Scully wouldn't be able to fix this with a cold
compress and a bedside manner. I took out my gun and checked
the magazine. I loaded it and cocked it and then placed
the barrel in my mouth. The taste was not as nasty as I
had thought. I could relate to this.
It was going to be the ultimate blowjob.
The phone rang again, and for a moment I had the thought that
even when I wanted to kill myself they wouldn't stop bothering
me. I waited for the answering machine to cut in and listened
as the sound of my voice told the world that they'd reached Fox
Mulder, leave a message.
Alex's voice caused prickles to run down my spine.
"Fox, pick up. Fox, if you're there, please answer
the phone. Please, darling." I dropped my gun
and ran for the phone, snatching the receiver as if it were a
I was so drunk I wasn't making much sense, and he could tell instantly
that I was loaded, because whatever he was going to say remained
unsaid. He just said, very distinctly, "Oh, baby, what
am I to do with you? Stay there. Don't move.
I'll be there as soon as I can." The phone clicked
in my hand and went dead. I lurched into my bedroom and
passed out on the top of the blankets.
Some time later, I awoke with a raging thirst and staggered off
to the bathroom where I washed my face and drank several glasses
of cold water in an attempt to re-inflate my shrunken head.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Dissolute, brooding, bloodshot
eyes and swollen lips made me less than attractive. I stumbled
back to bed, wondering if I was condemned to hear Alex forever
more and whether I would be able to embrace my gun once more.
Stripping off my... Alex's jeans and T-shirt, I lay down and pulled
the covers over me and rolled over, whispering Alex's name to
"Baby, it's nice to hear that someone missed me. Can
I come in?" He was real. He was there.
It was my lover. He had come home, and I never knew until
that moment just how much the phrase 'walking on air' meant.
But I was. I was.
He told me about the shapeshifter, Jeremiah Smith, who had knocked
my Alex out and bound him, placing him out of range of the blast
before going to carry out the plans that Alex had made.
He told me about the group of reporters who had found him lying
tied up and gagged in a field close to their 'base camp'.
He told me, but I don't think I took it in at that moment.
I was too busy gazing at the beauty of him that I thought I had
My head was aching, and there was a taste in my mouth that made
me think of the remains of a long dead animal. I felt, quite
frankly, like shit. But Alex was getting into bed beside
me and taking me in his arms, and this was heaven after all.
I fell asleep then. My love was home, and I was happy.
Sue aka Dr. Ruthless
<firstname.lastname@example.org> ICQ#14783367 <Alyosha303 on IM>
With every passing hour our solar system comes forty-three thousand
miles closer to globular cluster M13 in the constellation Hercules,
and still there are some misfits who continue to insist that there
is no such thing as progress. -- Ransom K. Ferm (Stolen from Douglas