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 redemption.

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> sashworth@home.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 again.

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 fire!

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 monster crumpled.

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 I?

"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 thigh!

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 issue.

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 memory.

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 forget him.

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 hated him.

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 words.

"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 my lips.

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 you."

"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.

Again.

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.

God.

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 difference here.

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 fell asleep.

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

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 tastes.

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 my lover.

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 deliberately.

"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 in.

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 Krycek.

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 recollection.


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 need.

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, soon enough.

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 pet him.

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 again.

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 belonged.

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

Forever.

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."

"I know"

"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 into laughter.

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.

Gone.

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 died.

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 life preserver.

It was.

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 myself.

"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 lost forever.

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

<sashworth@home.com> ICQ#14783367 <Alyosha303 on IM> <Xtrovert1@aol.com>
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 Berry)


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