White Russia

As I promised myself, I rented a house with perfect white interior last week. I'm still going through my after vacation syndrome. His eyes, his lips, his body and his scent, I keep savoring them in my mind and jacking off after some 12 year old Scotch down my throat.

Sharon delivered the divorce documents to our lawyer.

I never thought I was a coward, but I didn't have the courage to sign it, to give the seventeen years a closure. What was I hesitating for?

When I escaped from my lawyer's office, I was depressed, and in the need of body warmth. I missed him badly.

So I did the next best thing. I picked up a woman who just at the right time and at the right place. Things turned out ugly. I should've known it was a set up!

They couldn't find any solid evidence against me. No semen, of course. I got it up for as long as I closed my eyes and imagined the body heat was coming from him. But I couldn't get off knowing I was holding a body that was too soft, too sweet, too wrong.

I brought her pleasure and made her scream, we fell asleep together peacefully. But she died.

Sharon died, too, after having told me where to find a video tape. Which was the real reason she finally signed the papers.

It's him, us. In Spain. That camera, the one hanging on the ceiling, taped us running down the corridor - naked.

Someone sent it to my wife.

That someone was no stranger, the smoker, now standing in my office, made that perfectly clear.

"Your thug failed to kill me last time; you could've done it again. Why that hooker? Why Sharon? Why?" I'm seeing red, just barely hanging on to the edge of my sanity. Waiting for him to justify me murdering him with by my bare hands.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," The smoker then put a video tape on my desk, "You surprised me...and your wife, too, Mr. Skinner."

My God, it's that tape, he made copies! He failed to kill me, failed to pull me down, now he finally got something on me. Krycek...so, it's really him? How stupid was I to fall into his tears and his three little words. "You set me up!"

The smoker sneers, "No. On the contrary, I have to thank you for helping me find the rat."

"You followed me!"

"Just to keep an eye on you, Mr. Skinner. If I'd known you were inclined that way, things would have been much easier to handle. Don't you think?"

"What do you want?" I roar. So Krycek was not only wanted by the Bureau, but also by them. No wonder he hid in that little paradise.

He lights another cigarette, smiles cruelly, "Nothing."

I burned the tape after he left. I know it was futile; he wouldn't have been stupid enough to give me the only copy. Thoughts of the man I made love to flash before me, my desire hasn't died down even now that I know it's Krycek. Did I truly love that man...was I in...? No, it's not true, I didn't fall in love with Krycek.

I just fell into a beautiful lie.

I hate myself for missing the man I made love to in Spain, can't stop myself being sunk in all the memories I had with him. I blame myself for not grieving over Sharon's death, and instead, like deep in strong medicine, I busy myself gathering things that would remind me of him. I buy bottles of Sherry, and shop on-line for the CDs that with those familiar songs of Samba and Flamenco music to which he danced.

Months later, I sign over all the inheritance I got from Sharon to her mother which made her grin and I am truly disgust with her for that. The only thing that is in my name is our house, and I decided to sell it.

I'm not a cold man for not shedding tears for her. Like I've always known about myself, I'm a coward. I'd rather be the helpless romantic Walter who had long disappeared after he got married than bear the regret of causing his wife's death. Being so totally love sick as to shop for everything that reminds me of my crazy love affair with that man isn't enough to avoid the pain, the truth, the reality.

Truth is I lost Sharon, I should grieve. I do. But the pain is there, just muted somehow, I can't restrain my heart going for him.

So look what I've done? Like I haven't sickened by myself, I paid off my rent and moved out soon after I bought this place - an apartment on the 17th floor of the Viva Tower - my little white world. Yeah, that's the reality, I'm sick. The short time I spent in Spain and had a romance with that man could've been my self delusion, and even if that is so, I can live with that.

I intend to numb my grief of loosing a wife; I plan to live with the memories of my lover. I'm happy to embrace the loneliness - it's just a few hours per day or a few days per year being in my empty apartment. It shouldn't be hard since I've always spent too much of my life in the Bureau and involved too deep with things concerning Mulder.

But fate, the fickle bitch, keeps striking me.

One moment later I was answering the door to my number-one-troublesome agent, the next I'm shocked stupid at seeing my destiny. On such a cold night, the end of the late fall, Mulder brings the man back into my life shattering my fantasy.

My heart jumps hard and bangs painfully against my ribs. Gone is my sweet Sherry, standing in front of me is the rat wanted by everyone.

Krycek begins to glance around, I punch him heavily in the gut not from anger or hate but from being afraid of letting him see all the white interior and then get the idea. That I'm a coward, built myself a hole and now I'm hiding with my fantasy in it.

I cuff him out on the balcony, which is the farthest away I can keep him out of my world.

Through the den, in the dark, I know he is aware of me watching him. If he really was the man I fell in love with, he doesn't seem to be jumping at the chance to throw our love affair in my face - he even looks like nothing happened between us.

I catch him looking my way while I'm pacing like a lion with frustration in its cage. I slam my palms on the glass of the sliding door making it shudder, "Was that you? Tell me!" I shout, as I feel tears form.

But he won't hear me screaming, I had the glass made extra thick to prevent noise.

Krycek shouts back, I can read his lips that he's spitting four letter words and asking to be let in. Really, there's no trace of my sweet lover in him; just as I couldn't find any Krycek in the man back in Spain. But there have the same shade of emerald eyes, lips...God, I can't stand to staying such a short distance and not cross to taste if it's really him. I can't take it anymore, so I abandon my prisoner and run.

My room, my bed is as cold as my balcony.

This morning, the smoker followed me right after I left my building; I was worried he'd go up and finish Krycek there. Did he even know Krycek was at my place? Hours later, when I was called by the Detective about a dead body that had fallen from my place, my heart stopped for a second thinking that was Krycek. No, I was imagining the Alex who cried in my arms in Spain was now lying in the pool of his own blood.

I can't take it anymore; I have to admit I do love him no matter who he is. The feelings are there, I can't turn to the old days when I hated his guts.

Mulder have come to take Alex with him. I saw them off while talking to the Detective. Since then, I haven't received further news from Mulder or Scully. Not a loose word of their whereabouts.

I don't really worry about Mulder, he's like a dog, he'll always found his way back home. And he has Scully, his X-Files; he's meant to come back. But Alex, I think I lost him the moment he was out of my sight.

Days later, again as every night, I stand on the balcony, feel the night's chill and regret cuffing him here,.

My phone rings, "Your Agent has been captured in Russia," says a cold woman's voice.

"Russia?" I snort, "Who are you? Why should I belie-?"

She hangs up on me.

There should be answers to my question. I go to the cell where Scully is still locked in. Never had I saw her this brave and beautiful at the moment being protective and faithful to Mulder. I know there must be love between them; it makes me ashamed of failing to handle my feelings towards Alex.

When I'm back in my car, sitting in defeat from getting no answers from Scully, the smoker walks up to me.

"Get lost." I say weakly, slouching in my seat and I refuse to look at his way.

He chuckles, "Your Agent is in danger, Mr. Skinner."

"He's always in danger, no need to remind me." But as my mind turns to acknowledge that this time Mulder took Alex with him, I sit up straight to face the smoker.

He grins meaningfully. "I need a favor this time, Skinner."

"...you call the shots." You have the tape of me anyway, old bastard.

The smoker pulls a face, hearing my sarcasm, "I'll burn it if you bring Krycek to me."

"To have him killed by you? Send others to get him, I won't do this."

"He has some information I need, and we don't want to cross the Russian Bear."

So Mulder and Alex did go to Russia. "What makes you think I'm that good to fight them, the KGB?"

He begins to light a cigarette, "No. But fortunately, they've escaped yesterday morning, I need you to bring them back."

"I don't speak Russia; I believe there's more capable people to do it for you." Actually, I'm dying to have Alex back in my arms, but bringing him back means to hand him to the smoker...that I can't do.

The smoker takes a puff, making his grin more menacing and evil, "As a boss to Mulder, a lover to Krycek, you're the perfect man to discipline the boys. Don't worry about the language, I've got you a guide."

He checks his watch, eyeing the silent parking lot. A red Ford slowly turns into the entrance and drives towards us, it parks at the empty space beside my car. A blonde woman slides out from the driver's seat, nods to the smoker and pulls two backpacks from the back seat.

She glances at me, "Marita C." Cold voice...the woman who called me. "We should leave now." Throwing the two backpacks into my back seat, she let herself in, sitting in the passenger seat.

I'm stubborn as a mule not moving a finger to start my car.

"Mr. Skinner?" The woman says in a low and soft voice without hostility, "Should I drive? You have no choice but do this-"

I start the car, knowing where to head to - the JFK airport. I wait after the smoker disappeared from my eyesight, "You work for him? Miss..." She has the same inscrutable attitude as Alex.

"Marita is alright. I helped Agent Mulder to go there; now I want to help him out of there. Nothing to do with the old man." She gives me a smile with no warmth in it.

We check in at a hotel as soon as we arrive at Krasnoyarsk, despite that Krasnoyarsk is a very pleasant city, my back hurts after the long flight as always. Marita, speaking fluent Russian, does all the paper work for us. I keep silence all the way to our rooms where we get some rest and change clothes for mountain climbing. Before starting for our mission, we need calories. Marita seems like to play as a woman taking good care of her love affair; I have plenty food delivered to our table before she disappears into the lady's room.

I eat and try to keep easy and calm, feeling a weird sense of being monitored.

Before I finish all the food, Marita returns to our table. Her expression is serious, "They lost the trace on him...but-"

"Him?" It's strange Marita seems to think our mission is only to rescue Mulder, not once she mentioned about the other man with Mulder.

"Agent Mulder. It's been over twenty hours, my informant said there's another American with Mulder, but they'd gone separate ways after their stolen truck crashed. One of them now is staying with the villagers and he- him..." Marita trails off.

I'm chilled down by the thought of any one of them dying, "Tell me on the way." I gulp my last swallow of Vodka and grab our backpacks to go, leaving Marita to pay the check.

Outside of the restaurant, I consider whether to rent a car or a cab then hear Marita call me honey from behind. I turn to see what she wants, and find there's a cab stopping besides her waiting for us. I don't need Marita to tell me the rest. The driver is her informant, he also speaks English. His big mouth blabbers all the terrible things happening in the prison camp and the rumor about people cutting off their arm to avoid being imprisoned.

Tunguska - the evil land he said. And my nightmare starts from here.

"I'm not going further; you have to walk three miles north from here. Someone will lead you to him." He hands us guns after Marita paid him a roll of thick c-notes in the entrance towards the forest, "I can't promise the man you're looking for is still alive, I heard screams that night." He shivers, fear in his eyes.

I feel bad, walking the three miles in dread of finding the body whether he is Mulder or Alex. The deeper we walk further into the forest the darker and colder it gets. I hate the cold, the Vodka I drank a while ago isn't enough to warm up. I'm chilled deep inside.

"He's not dead." Marita whispers. I take what comfort I can in her assurance as I consider believing her not working for the smoker.

We keep going; talking isn't going to help ease my mind.

Suddenly, Marita is grabbed by a group of young men from behind me who seem to appear from no where. I stare at their arms in shock; they are all lacking a left arm. I draw the gun but Marita hisses 'no' to me. I don't know what she tells her captors, but they let go of her and signal us to keep quiet and follow them.

Another half mile we keep turning in the forest and I'm already disoriented.

"Oh, my God!" Marita is about five feet ahead of me; she stops where she stands with those men. The forest is too quiet; I hear her murmur clearly in the freezing air.

Those men step aside to let me pass the narrow muddy trail that's full of weeds, I push Marita away...and see...see my Alex lying under the tree with a dirty wool blanket wrapped around him. They even used the wet weeds and fallen leaves to blanket his body...as if he's dead.

Then I see the missing part of his body - his left arm! They cut it off! The blood has soaked through the dirty fabric they wrapped around the wound, and he is terribly pale like all the blood has drained out of him.

Stopping dead on my feet, I don't have the strength to go further. "Is- is he dead?" I swallow hard, breathing out my fear, "Ask them." Getting no answer, I look over my shoulder to her, trying hard to keep my voice calm. I roar lowly, "Damn it! Ask them!"

They exchange short phrases, and then Marita waves them to leave.

"He's not dead." She takes off her backpack and pulls out a small bag from it handing to me, "Follow the trail up to the hill, you should see a small hunting lodge hidden in the trees. They said those men are still out in the woods searching for their escaped prisoners, so don't start a fire."

I nod, taking over the small bag.

Squinting at Alex, she says lightly, "Good luck."

"You're leaving." I'm relieved that she doesn't carry a secret assignment to kill Alex. "Who's gonna lead us back to America?"

"Come back here twelve hours later, someone will come here to pick you up. I have to find Mulder." Marita draws a bottle of pocket sized Vodka from her backpack and tosses it to me, "Keep warm."

After she left, I drop to my knees beside Alex, stretching a shaking hand to touch my one time lover. He doesn't move, lying still and cold like a corpse, a layer of sweat steaming from his skin. That's when I notice the snow begin to fall. I have to move fast.

Alex had gained weight since the time I saw him in the slim vampire suit, I lift him up in my arms with a grunt then begin head for the hill. The snow is falling very heavy soon, I follow the trail hoping I'll recognize the road twelve hours later.

Finally we are at the end of the trail, but there is a big problem. How can I climb the 'hill'? It's nearly a small cliff and we are at the foot of it! At first, I think I walked the wrong way, but then I spot what seems a part of a small wooden house hiding in the woods up there.

The sound of snow falling on the trees makes me more anxious about the situation. A groan sounds in my arms; I look down at the pale face. Alex is in pain and I'm standing here helpless.

"Alex," I whisper with tears forming, my physical strength is also at the end of the rope, "Just hold on."

I lower Alex and my bag on the ground then walk a few steps back to survey our surroundings. Yes, I agree it is a hill. The small cliff is only about three and a half meters high, and it'll be easier if I choose to walk from its right slope side. But it's far away from where we are. The left side is steep but not impossible to climb up and it's only a couple of feet from us. Considering either way I can't carry both my backpack and Alex at the same time any longer, I should make the short journey fast before the sky becomes completely dark.

Ever heard the Gallon Throw? I'm not as strong as those sport men with unbelievable strength, throwing one gallon heavy box over a seven or more meters high wall, but I have to depend on my adrenalin now - to throw my backpack onto the top of the small hill.

The contents in my backpack include a tent, two sleeping bags, a heating sheet blanket, some ropes and supplies for camp fire and dry food. And a bottle of hot water I filled before we left the hotel this morning. I check the small bag Marita gave me, and am grateful to find some medical supplies. I wonder where Marita got these 'medicine'; almost all of them are strong and illegal.

I repack what I need then bury the rest; thankfully the snow will cover the newly dug dirt.

Now the backpack is much lighter than before. I hold it in my hands and measure the spot where I'm going to throw it. Once I thought the Gallon Throw was stupid, now I appreciate the sport. Remembering those men's performances, I imitate their skill feeling completely in gear. Count to three and throw! Yes! I hear the thud knowing it successfully land on the cliff.

Alex, now it's you and me. We can make it.

Lifting his dear weight on my shoulder, I carry Alex to climb the steep side. It's only a few feet distance but when I finally reach the small house the snow has stopped falling, the moon is bright.

"No..." Alex groans weakly when I lower him on the wooden floor. I'm glad he seems to recover consciousness.

Running out of adrenalin, I'm hungry and shaky. My watch reads seven thirteen.

I go outside to retrieve my backpack, come back, switch on the flashlight and finish eating. I wanted to check Alex's arm but somehow fell asleep after pulled him to my lap, I awake by Alex's twisting and whimpering. Checking my watch, I've slept four hours.

"I've got you, Alex." I caress his face, finding he's burning. "I have to clean your wound, can you hear me?"

His eyes open a slit but can't focus on me by the dim flashlight, he voices a hoarse word in the air, "Hurts."

"Drink some." I have kept the Vodka in my pocket all the time so it's warm, he shouldn't drink any alcohol in his condition now so I only give him just enough to moisten his lips.

Going through those medicines Marita gave me, I feed Alex what I think it's morphine. And cleaning his left arm is a torture to both of us. The drug hasn't kicked in his system, Alex thrashes and twists in agony under my body. His throat must be already sore from screaming last night so now it's a silent cry, the smell of his own urine and blood rush into my nostrils. I can't stand seeing him like this, my tears drop on his neck and shoulder while I try hard to straddle him. Finally, the cut is thoroughly cleaned and bandaged, we both are panting hard.

"You alright, Alex?" He doesn't answer, only shaking slightly and his eyelids tremble quickly. The drug is kicking in.

By the time I get Alex naked, wipe him clean and wrapped in the heat sheet blanket, he has a goofy smile plastering on his face because of the drug. I put him into the sleeping bag, then sit beside him and gun in hand, trying to keep awake.

What now, Walter? Till the morning, you have to bring him back to America, to the smoker. He lost an arm, can he fight for himself?

"Walter..." I look down at Alex; his eyes are half open but not seeing me. He must be talking in his fever induced dream.

I reach out my hand to hold his, Alex is smiling happily. I'm touched by the fact that he is dreaming of me when he's in his delirium.

"...see the seagulls?"

"Yes," I whisper, afraid to wake him from his sweet dream.

"...hmm...love...you..." He quiets down and goes deep into sleep.

God, I love you too, more than you can imagine. Why did things turn out like this? I'm losing my battle and begin to cry soundly. At some point, I fall asleep too...

A click, it's clearly sounded in the crisp dawn air. I stir and find the gun in my hand has gone. Rolling cautiously to face the man who holds the gun, I say, "Alex."

We're just inches apart from each other.

Faint morning light shining through the dirty window of the hunting lodge casts on his frame; my chest tightens on seeing his beautiful nudity and the damaged part.

"Who sent you, Skinner?" Alex is shaking badly. He kneels in the sleeping bag, totally naked.

"Alex," I sit up and climb to him. "Don't pretend nothing has happened between us." I have enough this!

"Back off!" Alex hisses, wavering the gun, "Spender, the smoker, right?"

I kneel in front of him, I can easily grab his gun but I don't, "Yes."

"No." He sits down, lowers the gun.

Carefully, I close our distance and eventually pull him into my arms. I say like read his sentence, "You have important information he needs, said he won't kill you."

Alex chuckles bitterly into my chest.

I wait till he is willing to explain. I stroke his body repeatedly, hoping to give him warmth but finding that he still has the fever.

"He wants to know how I escaped from that silo, how am I handling the black oil in my body, and now he must want to get the vaccine from the Russia."

Silo? Black oil and vaccine? I don't understand a bit. "You're beginning to sound like Mulder."

With a growl, Alex tries to push me away but too weak to succeed, "That stupid bastard, I lost my arm because of him!"

"Shhh, Alex, I'm here for you. Let me take care of you." I pull the sleeping bag up to blanket him like a baby in my arms, and rock us both. "You should take another pil-, I mean pain killer. You're shaking again, pain or cold?"

"Both." He trembles, squeezing the word out from between chattering teeth.

I let him lie down and begin to take off my jacket, the fleece pullovers I wear inside is the only one I can offer Alex. He won't need pants because I'll carry him to the promised place while he is sedated. I do my best to have him put on the clothes without causing his left arm too much pain.

"Okay, let's do the morning routine." I must be smiling funny, my face muscles are stiff, "...lover."

Alex glares at me, so I excuse myself and go outside to pee under the tree. I hear him open the back door and half expect he'll run away after he releases his bladder. I'm not sure the smoker will keep his promise not to kill him; maybe dying in the forest is a better choice for Alex.

I remember a story I read somewhere that people eat the body after their beloved died to have their souls become one. I doubt I have the guts to do so; but if it came down to it, I'll shoot myself to be with him.

When I go back inside the house, Alex is wolfing down the potato chips I left uneaten hours ago. I pour the hot water to make instant soup for us. "Sorry, the water has turned warm."

"Doesn't matter. Give me the pain killer."

He swallows it with the soup, and lie down waiting for the drug to erase his pain. "Take me to St. Petersburg."

"I can't, someone will come to pick us..." I check my watch, "...in a couple hours."

"Skinner-" Alex is struggling to keep his eyes open, but the drug seems to take over him fast.

"Call me Walter."

"No, Skinner. You're going to hate me anyway...that...things I've carried out...and going to do..."

Shut up! I don't want to hear this. In order to distract my thoughts about the reality we both have to face, I rustle through all the supplies. And finally decide I don't need any of them. Just the gun.

Alex is fast asleep now. I eat the rest of the potato chips and a chocolate bar but leave the dried noodles untouched; I'd rather use the bottle of warm water to clean Alex again. There's still a faint smell of urine, blood and new sweat lingering, I take my time using a piece of fabric I cut off from my sleeping bag to sponge wash Alex's face, chest, armpits, groin then toes where he may have some frostbite. I stroke his toes absently then abandon them to join him in the sleeping bag. I shouldn't, the bag is big but not for two adults, yet I can't let the only and final chance of being with him slip away.

I need his warmth; my body has yearned for his all, to end the long loneliness.

Alex doesn't responsed when I accidentally bump his wound, so I dare to embrace him as tightly as possible but as gentle as I care.

Just now, a few more minutes, let me hold you.

I kiss his hair, whispering lovesick nonsense to him. I'm not sure if he could hear me in his drugged peaceful sleep, but Alex's tears flow out silently like a small river as mine.

Outside the wind picks up, I should start early in case the snow falls fast to slow me down. Not that I'm eager to send Alex to the smoker's hands, he needs medical care.

The air is chilly, I gulp a large amount of Vodka and feel the burn in my stomach. Then I zip up the sleeping bag around Alex and lift him in my arms. After having slept some hours last night and without those supplies, I have enough strength to carry him down the slope of the hill. Snow has gathered on the trees and ground, thin and clean.

Right at the place where I found Alex yesterday, a young man is waiting for me.

"Gift." He hands me a cheap plastic fake arm, says in an odd accent and no more English was to be heard from him. Seeing my hands full, he sticks it in Alex's sleeping bag.

The man leads me back to the entrance of the forest where that driver Marita's informant has already waited in the cab.

No words being exchanged, I nod and he starts the car. The road is in bad condition and the car is jolting constantly, so an hour later my weariness finally beats me to sleep. It's about two hours later when the driver wakes me up, the bastard asking me to give back the guns to him 'cause I won't be able to pass the security check point with them at the Krasnoyarsk airport anyway. Another man shows up when we arrive there to take over his assignment. He is well built, taller than me and quite a handsome Russia man. I buy proper clothes for Alex and let the man help me to put them on Alex in the man's room of the airport. But when he offers his help to carry Alex, I refuse. The drug Alex took isn't about to wear off his system any time soon but I don't like the possibility of him waking up in another man's arms.

We are on the KrasAir Airlines to Moscow, three hours later Alex wakes up when our food is delivered. He seems calm when I tell him our situation and lets me feed him some food. His mind is not on me at all, he chews thoughtfully eyeing our company who sits apart from us several seats ahead.

"Are you still in pain?" I put down the fork and reach my hand to cup his cheek, turning him to face me. I whisper, "I can't give you the same drug now, it's illegal. Do you think you can hold on?" My thumb scratches his rough stubble.

For a moment, I feel he's going to grab the drugs from me - he saw I put them in my inner chest pocket this morning. But his stare moves from my chest towards my collarbone, then slowly my eyes.

"It's pure white...I wonder if you had the canopy bed put in your room and if you'd used yogurt on anyone else?" Green is blazed in his eyes, and soon burning to my belly.

My God! He wants to talk about us! Here and Now!

"Definitely...not." I stammer, flush at the passion we shared.

Alex closes his eyes and leans into my palm, he sighs with slight trembling. He's in pain and I need to hold him.

The flight attendants are taking away dishes. I check the time to know soon the plane is going to land in Moscow.

"C'mere..." I murmur and arrange him to lean on me without hurting his left arm, "We still have twenty minutes to go, then you can have your pain pill and rest." My lips caress his temple when I talk to him softly; I don't think anyone notices or cares what we're doing but that Russia man turns to look what we're up to. I give him a hard look while my cheek is touching my lover's. Alex is mine even if I'm supposed to hand him over to the smoker.

Apparently, Alex has another thought. After we left the Domodedovo to Sheremetyevo 2 international airport, he puts the painkiller into his pocket when I give him one. He's up to something and he needs to remain sharp, I just hate to see him sweating and trembling from the pain.

The three of us sit at the Tajmahal restaurant waiting for our flight to America, Alex forces himself to eat more than I think he possibly could. The Russia man shakes his head, laughing and speaking something to him.

Alex stops eating and tosses his fork on the table; he stares at him while speaking to me. "I need a shave, Walter."

"Shave?" I touch his chin, noticing that the Russia man isn't comfortable with our display in public, "You look fine to me."

Alex shakes off my hand, glances at me, "No, I want to look clean." Then he speaks to the man in a tone I feel the intent even if I don't understand the language.

"I need to go to the men's room; he'll help me do the shaving."

"Ale-" You are playing with fire, Alex!

They disappear into the man's room for too long, I begin to worry more and getting angry from unnecessary jealousy. The toilet door is locked from inside, I knock softly and call Alex. He opens the door to let me in.

My God, he slit the man's throat!

"Self defense." He shrugs.

I notice that the security camera has covered with shaving cream.

"You look utterly clean." His stubble has gone, but I don't mean that.

And he knows it. Alex punches on the wall, shouts to me, "That's me! I'm not the man you fucked in Spain. Face the truth, Skinner."

"Shhh," I rush to him, grab him into my arms, "You're drawing attention to us. Come on, let's leave here first."

Alex growls and head butts my chest, trying to pull from my embrace. But killing that man has spent too much of his energy, he doesn't have the strength to fight me. So he doesn't put up a useless struggle when I drag him to gather our things and leave the airport.

I have enough cash to stay in Russia for a couple more days but Scully's hearing is within two days. I need to leave this country tomorrow morning at the lastest. We pick up a taxi and Alex directs the driver to a building near the airport. A fine dressed man, Alex's associate I assume, lets us in and he startles at seeing his left arm. Without a word, he gives keys to Alex and leaves the apartment.

It's very warm and comfortable here.

Alex digs out the pain killer from his jeans' pocket I gave him at the airport, "Find me water, would you?" He drops on to the sofa, exhausted.

"Be right back ." I nod and go figure out where the kitchen is.

This is a high class apartment I've noticed when entered this building, but it's larger than I thought. Three doors down the hall, I find the kitchen and take a bottle of juice in the refrigerator to Alex. When I return to the living room, he's already asleep. Alex swallowed it dry.

Sighing, I go find where we can sleep the night. This place has five rooms. One with tasteful furniture I think that's the master bedroom; there are two with double beds and another two with queen sized beds. One of the rooms has its bathroom attached, I decide to sleep there then go to carry Alex to our bed.

Peeling off his coat, I find some blood on the right sleeve. That dead man's..."You need a bath." I lie beside him, wiping the sweat off his forehead with my hand. Automatically, Alex leans into my touch, I smile. I'm also too tired to think more...

Raining...? I sit up immediately when realize it's Alex in the shower. I'm not sure if he'd be mad at me if I go join him, but then I hear a sudden crash in there.

"Alex!" I rush into the shower. The steam clouds my vision, so I walk further inside and find him sitting on the floor.

"I...lost balance."

"Mind if I join you?" Say yes, please. I kneel in front of him, examining the bandage which is dripping red by the hot shower.

Alex, hand fists his short hair and begins to pull hard; his body shakes with silent sobs.

I want to cry, too, I feel sorrow for what happened to my lover no matter what he'd done, I don't think he deserved to loose his arm. Quietly, I take off my clothes and begin to wash both of us.

"Get in the bath." I say softly.

We sit face to face in the small whirl pool, water gushes out bumping on our flesh from several angles. I take what looks like scented oil on the step beside the bath and dump the last bit of its content in the water, Alex gazes at the bubbles. Is this us; have nothing to say in the real ourselves?

Say something, anything. "What are you going to do?" Dumb question, Walter.

Alex chokes out a laugh, slowly slouches and relaxes his back against the bath. With his head leaning back, eyes staring at the ceiling, he says emptily, "Get my hands dirty... more than you'd imagine."

"With the smoker, I believe it's bloody true." I mutter, watching the bubbles filling out between us.

Suddenly, Alex tilts his head to look at me in the eyes, his mother language pops out emotionally like foreign poems to me, his chest heaves rapidly screaming temptation...and finally his tears just hanging there make me want to eat him alive...and in so doing, make us one.

As soon as sees me move a finger, Alex jumps to run. The bath is slippery, I catch his middle preventing him from falling but the truth is I want him.

"Let go, Skinner." The man struggles with his animal power in my embrace.

"Not a chance!" I wrestle with him on the tile floor until he finally works out his energy and is submissive in my arms, panting and trembling. I consider letting him go, but we are both hard with desire for each other.

"Do it..." A whisper comes from Alex who hangs head down.

"As you wish." I carry him in my arms, going towards our bed like sending him to a cult altar...

I wake up in the empty bed and see someone standing by the window, "Alex?"

"Put on your clothes, I'll drive you to the airport." A stranger steps to me; I put on my glasses and recognize that he is Alex's associate.

"Where's Alex?" For a second, I panic. But maybe his disappearance is the best way for both of us; I should stop being a coward and find a way to fight the smoker. While putting on clothes, I wince at the pain in my chest where Alex left a bite mark just right above the heart when we climaxed just a second apart.

On the flight back to the US, the wound hurting faintly every time I put my palm on my chest. I thumb it to feel the pain on purpose, recalling our last intense love-making, "Remember, Walter, don't be hesitant to kill me when the time comes; the Alex who loves you is staying here..." Then he licked away my blood, "Forever."

Yeah...in the line of my duty, I'd rather kill him with my own hands if I had to than let the others ruin my precious one.

Just I doubt I could really do it.