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Oedipal Complex
by Ursula


Mulder wondered why he chose this time to return to West Tilsbury. He felt as if the last few months were empty; as if he had watched his body go through motions while he felt nothing. He hardly remembered the terror and the wonder he had experienced when his bleeding and battered mind had lain open to every thought and emotion from all those around him. Now, his head felt strangely numb as if some mad dentist had shot his brain full of Novocain. He hadn't discussed this with anyone, afraid that Skinner or Scully would put him back in the hospital for his own good. He had a fading impression of lying, trapped by the vortex of impressions and ideas: other people's pain, fear, lust, and madness. Mulder had hated it most when his mind was awash with the insistent banal things that pounded on him from their heads such as 'need to buy some milk', 'where's my keys', 'wish I could scratch under my arm', or 'got to piss'.

Mulder remembered Skinner and Scully looking at him, hearing their thoughts and feelings of desire for him, mixed with a strange contempt from both of them. How could they think of him as such a fool and still desire him? For those reasons, Mulder couldn't discuss Diana's death, and the void it left inside of him, with the two people to whom he had always felt closest. How could he, knowing that each of them had been her hidden rival? Besides, he knew that she had never been good for him though this knowledge didn't comfort him. Scully would never do the things that Diana did to arouse him and get him to respond to her sexually. That kiss had told him so even if her thoughts had not been enough to finally convince him. Scully's embrace and kiss were all sweet and bland. Mulder knew what he needed to make love to a woman; a taste of her domination and an edge of pain. Scully might not respect him but she wouldn't play those necessary games. Diana had made him crawl. She had humiliated him, bound him, hurt him, and it had been good, so good.

Mulder parked the car noticing one of those historic site markers. He had a secret passion for these oddments of government culture mongering. When he looked at the metal plate, he found that, in his reverie, he had driven to the Christian-Town Indian memorial. This monument held a parking strip with room for four or five cars, a bank of trashcans, and the memorial, which was a stone cross, etched with the names of the Christianized Indians. He laughed, realizing that he had gone to the place he had wanted to see when he was a kid, visiting his dad after the divorce. He had read one of those Ripley things that claimed ghosts of murdered Indians visited this site. His father, desperate to understand him and please him, had brought him here promptly. Mulder saw that someone was walking around the monument, although he saw no car. He hesitated, not wanting company, but then, his eyes filled in the blur of dark clad figure. Krycek, the rat-bastard, had followed him here.

Mulder felt the numbness leave him, replaced by a heady delight. He could end it. End it here at the place where he had realized that he would never have his Alex again. He closed his eyes, his nostrils expanding as he remembered smelling something, some essence of Alex when he visited his father that last time. Damn it, he didn't need to see Alex to know when he was around. He knew him by smell, by voice, by touch, deep as he knew his own soul. If Alex had truly been present, then Mulder knew he was the one who had killed his father. Why else would he have been there?

His gun drawn, Mulder stalked the musing Krycek, who sat down on a bench, head slumped as if weary beyond all hope. Some noise aroused the sleeping instincts. Krycek leapt up, turning and seeing Mulder. He yelled, "Shit," and ran towards the woods beyond the monument. Mulder fired. In disbelief he watched the man crumple. He'd expected Krycek to escape; thinking that no ordinary bullet could cut him down. Krycek tried to struggle back to his feet as Mulder ran towards him. The brittle grass crunched beneath Mulder's feet and his breath puffed in visible curls as he panted. Krycek pushed up, his eyes meeting Mulder's. Mulder yelled, "Stay down! Stay down or I'll shoot you again."

Mulder skittered to a stop. He caught his breath as he took in his fallen enemy. One of Krycek's hands dug into the soil; the other was bent underneath him in a strange position. Mulder wondered if that was where the bullet hit? Was the arm broken? He turned the man over and saw the darkening blotch on the leather jacket. It was on the lower chest not the arm. Krycek's eyes opened; his pupils expanded drowning out the green. Mulder crouched to search Krycek. The man was still using a small of the back holster and carried another gun strapped to his ankle. Mulder grabbed at the jacket and encountered hardness when he grasped the left arm. His immediate thought was that Krycek had another weapon there. He wrenched the coat aside and saw only the sleeve of the black sweater that Krycek was wearing. He grunted his surprise and felt along the arm from just below the shoulder to Krycek's hand, feeling something unyielding and stiff. He pulled off the glove and saw a thing. It was not really even the clear imitation of a hand. It was a pincher-like mechanism, to which only the padded fingers of the leather cover gave the illusion of normalcy.

"God!" Mulder exclaimed, "My God, what happened?"

Krycek tried to laugh, but it sounded like the bark of a demented dog. Krycek said, "You happened, Mulder, just like that tarot card, you dance along the edge and the rest of us take the fall for you. Russia happened, Mulder, I didn't want to go back to the camp and some poor delusional peasants helped me. No arm, no test."

Mulder shook his head, struggling with the urge to vomit. He pulled up the sweater to look at the wound. It was bleeding profusely. He raised his gun again, used the muzzle to tilt Krycek's face up and he said into it; "I'm glad. That's how it feels to me, Alex, like some part of me is missing. You took it, Alex. You're the one."

Alex closed his eyes, letting his head limply sag to the ground. The bastard just lay there waiting for the coupe de grace. Mulder's finger tightened on the trigger, but that dark head, that beautiful face, he couldn't ruin it after all and no other place was as sure or as right for his revenge. Mulder shrugged and hauled Krycek up. The man uttered a horrible sound and then passed out, leaving Mulder to lug him over the frosted dead grass to the car he had rented. Mulder left Krycek lying on the ground while he opened the trunk.

Mulder had picked up some supplies, a few groceries, cleaning materials, and plastic to recover the furniture when he had completed his visit. Mulder spread the plastic over the back seat. Before he moved Alex onto the seat, he used the man's own knife to rip off the black shirt. He figured out the Velcro straps in a moment and took off the prosthetic arm, laying it in the trunk. He had some packaged dusting cloths and he used a handful to staunch the wound and bandage it roughly. He slapped duct tape over the arrangement and then used more of it to strap the remaining hand into a useless club. He smirked at his ingenuity and hefted Krycek into the back seat and cuffed his wrist to the car door.

As Mulder drove, he heard soft moans coming from the back seat, but wasn't worried. This late in the fall, the roads were nearly empty during the workday. He was probably the only stranger in the area. He glanced in the rear view mirror. Krycek didn't look like much of a threat. He looked pitiful, in fact, but Mulder quelled his feelings. This was not his former partner, not his lover of a few deluded months. This was his father's killer and his enemy.

Mulder pulled into the driveway, avoiding the long winding paths that were the formal approach to the house. He unlocked the door to his father's house, keeping one eye on the man slumped in the back seat of his car. The air in the house smelled stale as if the semiannual cleaning contractors had been derelict in their duties. He left the door open and went to the car. Krycek looked terrible, sallow in color and lips turning white. Mulder used a trick he had learned from Scully and checked the man's gums. They also looked pale which meant that Krycek's blood loss was severe. Maybe, the bastard wouldn't put him through the moral dilemma of shooting an injured and unarmed man.

Mulder hauled Krycek up. His lids fluttered open and his big green eyes stared blankly from the wan face. Krycek cried out when Mulder jerked his weight out of the car. Mulder reminded himself that he didn't care; he couldn't care; no matter how he cringed in his heart at the pain he was inflicting on the body that he once had cherished. Mulder strained to get Krycek up the stairs. He noted the blood dripping on the verandah and it pissed him off. He would have to clean that before he left, probably he would have to sand it down.

Morbidly practical, Mulder dragged Krycek to the bathroom and laid him in the dusty tub. Krycek's hand was still bound with layers of duct tape. Mulder could see that Krycek had tried to chew the tape away. You had to hand it to the man; he never gave up. Mulder had layered it tightly though so Krycek's fingers were all still bound together. With his prosthetic arm in the trunk, Krycek's ability to escape was severely limited. Mulder congratulated himself on his forethought as he fastened the handcuff to the water fixture. Krycek's eyes had closed again, but now they fluttered open. He coughed dryly and said, "Mulder, some water, give me some water."

Mulder shook his head and said, "No, you'd just choke." He smiled cruelly and said, "You don't want to make me your murderer, Alex, do you?"

Alex was not up to a sarcastic return. He moaned softly and said, "It hurts and I'm so cold. Mulder, please..."

Mulder squatted and placed his hand on Alex's face as if checking some vital medical sign. His face did feel chilled. Mulder couldn't take his hand away. The things he could not bear to remember flooded back to him. Making love that first time in his apartment and all the later times, holding his precious young lover, kissing him, kissing him over and over until they were faint from passion and breathlessness. Alex, the name he used in secret for the phantasm of his darling lover, would die with his hated enemy, Krycek. There was no way to separate the two from each other.

Mulder felt something brush his hand; a tear, Krycek was weeping. Mulder started to pull his hand away and Krycek reached the taped club of a hand to try to keep it there. Despite the handcuffs, he managed to push Mulder's fingers toward his mouth. Mulder felt the brush of Alex's cold dry lips and he leaped away so fast that Alex fell back, hitting his head on the deep blue tiles of the wall. Mulder turned on the bathroom heater and almost ran from the room to get a blanket.

Alex had fallen or wiggled down to the bottom of the tub when Mulder returned with the blanket and a glass of sugared hot water. He was trying to turn on the faucet with his immobilized fingers. Mulder said, "Don't do that. You will soak yourself. Here, drink this." Mulder lifted Alex's head up to bring the water to his lips. Alex choked, but persisted enough to get half the glass down.

"Sweet." Alex said faintly, not clear as to his meaning.

Mulder arranged Alex's long legs over the edge of the tub and padded Alex's head with a towel before covering him with a blanket. Alex blinked once or twice more before subsiding. Mulder pushed an eyelid back and saw the eye was rolled upwards. He stood up, deciding that he wouldn't interfere. Alex could live or die. Mulder didn't want to sit in here and watch it happen. He had always meant to go through his father's things so this seemed a good time.

Most of the stuff seemed innocuous; real estate contracts, deeds, copies of his wills, and other legal papers occupied most of the small filing cabinet by his father's desk. Mulder dropped a pen. It rolled under the desk and he grunted in annoyance and crawled under looking for it. His hand encountered a straight line in the carpet; he could trace where the edges curled up. He explored the dimensions, discovering it was roughly a foot square.

Standing up, Mulder struggled to move the desk. It was an antique, real wood and heavy as hell. Sweat drenched him by the time he had moved it far enough to see what was underneath. The flap of carpet came away easily, concealing a hinged door, which had a keyhole with an inset lock. Mulder found the bundle of keys and sat there, trying them all until one finally fit. He wondered what his father had hidden and felt a rush of adrenaline as he opened the wooden cover. There was a fireproof locked box in the hole. Mulder lifted it out. Another lock prevented him from opening it. This time none of the keys fit. Mulder shrugged. He would use a hammer and chisel since his father could not object to the destruction.

Mulder checked the bathroom. Krycek was still breathing, but he did not wake when Mulder touched his neck to take his pulse. Guiltily, Mulder stroked the hair. God, it was still soft, so smooth to touch. He withdrew his hand as if burned and walked back out to get the tools. The noise of the destruction was startling and Mulder heard a small sound from the bathroom as if Krycek was frightened by the sound of the hammer and the chisel. Brown envelopes tightly packed the box. Mulder opened one with shaking hands. It was more evidence of his father's deep involvement with the project; military records, orders dispatching him to the secret division, and some reports of experiments. He saw the straggling note across one, "May God forgive me!"

An envelope held pictures of Samantha, an older Samantha than the one taken. There were copies of letters to Spender, demanding that she be returned. There were no return responses, typical of the bastard, never any written proofs. A large envelope looked creased and worn. Mulder opened it and dumped pictures out.

The pictures were of his father and a young man or teenager in very compromising positions. Mulder instantly thought of blackmail, but he saw notes in his father's handwriting, "My beautiful boy" and dates were the most frequent notes. Mulder's blurred vision snapped into focus as he realized that the dark haired lover was Alex, his very own Alex, but at an age which suggested high school proms and beach parties instead of a steamy affair with a man who must have been more than twice his age. Mulder found the traditional bundled notes. He recognized the clear rounded penmanship from notes left recently and from their brief months of partnership.

He opened a letter at random and read:

Dear Bill:

School is keeping me busy and I haven't been able to take time to write as often as I wanted. I am healthy as always and I think you will be proud of my G.P.A. when I get my credits in a few weeks. You were right; the political science classes are a challenge. I love the psychology courses though and wish that I could take more of them.

I am so tired from studying that what little free time I have, I spend dreaming about you. All that I can think about is that retreat that you promised and I can't wait. I want to spend as much time as possible with you.

I haven't been dating much as college isn't as easy as high school seemed. I'll save all my energy for you, old man, so be sure and take lots of vitamins because YOU are going to need all the help you can get to handle ME!

As we feared, our mutual loathed one showed up two weekends ago and told me I had work. The work was entertaining some bastard from South America that our employer wanted to recruit. It was horrible and I only kept my cool by thinking about you the whole time. I hope and pray that one of us will bring him down and that it will be in time to us to be together as we discussed.

Please keep thinking about me as I think about you,

Love and Kisses,

Your Alexei

Mulder snorted and couldn't believe his father had kept such drivel all these years. He held up naked picture after naked picture of Alex. He closed his eyes as he compared the adolescent Alex with the one that had blasted through his life with an inferno of passion. His was more beautiful, he felt, a few more years had smoothed the remaining gawkiness into pleasing lines. He wondered how his father had felt, keeping a boy younger than his son in his bed. He continued to thumb through the letters, knowing he had no real right to see any of this.

Another letter read:

Dear Bill:

I hope that we will be able to get away as we plan after the end of this semester. Who knows what our "Employer" will require of me next, but I have no word as yet which directs me to do other then the usual classes during the summer. I am not only looking forward to my twentieth birthday, but to our second anniversary. I suppose if I hate him for every other reason; I should be grateful for his forcing us together. How you must have wanted to laugh at me for my naivety and my fearfulness in those days! You know how you won my heart with your kindness and gentleness. There is so much more that I want to say, but I'll wait until I see you next.

With Love,

Your Alexei

Mulder read other letters, all as brief as the first and trying to be discreet, but knowing what he did, there was a clear picture. Alex had been turned over to his father to train as a sexual toy. Mulder often had wondered about Alex's lovers and had asked him about the first one, getting a sad look and an enigmatic, "He was a much older man, but very dear."

Mulder felt a muddle of emotions. The most interesting was jealousy. It seemed unfair that his father had Alex first. Alex was younger than Mulder. He had always assumed that Alex had killed his father to further the consortium's plans.

Now, he wondered if it had been something personal. What would his father have thought if he found out his former lover had become his son's lover? Had they fought over him? He had a horrified thought, wondering if Alex had still been meeting with his father when they had been lovers?

Part 2

Mulder rose stiffly from the floor. He had to find out what had happened. That meant Krycek was going to have to live. He went in to the bathroom and tapped Krycek on the face until the green eyes opened. "Krycek, you said something about knowing a doctor. Give me the number."

Krycek shivered and said, "Think it's too late now. I've never felt this weak, not even when they took my arm."

Mulder said, "Don't be a wimp, Krycek. You know you're too much of a fighter to check out until the devil comes for you."

Krycek said, "My devil is right here, Mulder. My devil, my angel."

"Give me the number." Mulder replied, "and cut out the similes."

When he dialed the number, Mulder thought that Alex had garbled the number, but he had said, "Dr. Ursula LeClaire"

"Dr. LaClaire's Veterinary Clinic." A firm female voice answered.

A vet? Mulder had called Alex an animal, but he couldn't imagine that his doctor was literally an animal doctor. Mulder said, "Uh, I'm calling on behalf of Alex."

The voice said, "Oh, about Alex, wait just a second."

A gruff woman replaced the first voice. She said, "Is this Alex?"

Mulder said, "No, I'm a friend."

The woman asked, "How bad is he?"

Mulder replied, "He's not good."

A bellow had Mulder moving the phone from his ear. "Ginger, get Mitzi Rudner into her crate. She's all closed. Tell my five o'clock that I had an animal rescue emergency. He'll understand." The woman growled, "Give me the fucking address and speak up!" A chorus of howls almost drowned out her loud words.

Mulder gave her the address and she said, "I'll be there in half an hour."

Mulder thought, 'that isn't much time'. He felt he had better at least try to make his care of Alex seem normal. He lifted Alex out of the tub and carried him to the bed. Alex opened his eyes as Mulder laid him down. Mulder said, "Your doctor is a vet."

Alex said, "She's good enough. You call me a rat all the time."

Mulder heard the edge of complaint in Krycek's voice and almost laughed. He took Krycek's pulse. He thought it felt stronger than it had been. Alex was tough. He added another layer of cloth to the bandage right on top of the old ones just as he had been taught. Mulder asked, "How did you meet my father?"

Alex looked toward the wall, not wanting to answer. Mulder pushed the pictures and letters in his face, gripping Alex's chin between his fingers to make him look. "Don't try to tell me that you didn't know him. Did you seduce him?"

Alex tried to escape the grip, but Mulder held firm. Alex said, "It wasn't like that."

Mulder hissed, "Tell me what it was like then. Did Spender send you to him?"

Krycek tried to nod, but he couldn't with the hold. He said, "Yeah, but not to seduce, because I couldn't, I didn't have the skills. He was the first one. It wasn't his fault either. Spender said that if he didn't teach me, that he would do something to you and he...I have a sister too. He said he would make a whore out of her instead of me. So we did it and I, he...we fell in love."

Mulder restrained the urge to beat those words out of Krycek. He couldn't deal with the anger in his mind, anger not only at Alex, but also at his father. How could his father do that to him? Alex was his. He shuddered as he remembered that plague of memory. Yeah, no wonder he had known in some primitive part of his brain that Krycek had been in that house. He had smelled his mate. He had smelled the pheromones of Alex's sex on his father.

Mulder accused, "You had sex. You had sex with my father after we had been lovers."

Alex whimpered and said, "Just that one time, Mulder. I had to warn him. He had been good to me and it wasn't his fault that I didn't love him the same way any more. You didn't want me anymore. You just wanted to kill me."

Mulder said, "I didn't try to kill you until you killed him."

Alex said, "How many times do I have to tell you? That never happened. You showed up early before I could get him out of the house. He told me to hide in the shower because we had been...washing up when you knocked. He was upset by everything and he reached into the medicine cabinet for his pills. He opened the window and told me to climb out, that I should hide in the garage or wherever. The shot came then and he crumpled back. I panicked because I knew how it looked. I went out the window and Cardinale was waiting. The fucker dragged me back to Spender and I was punished. By the time, you saw me at your apartment, I'd have done anything to make them stop."

"How could you seduce me after sleeping with my father?" Mulder demanded.

Krycek tried to get his head up on a pillow. Mulder said, "You dumb ass, lie still. Your feet are up and your head is down for a reason. You want to go into shock?"

Krycek said, "I want to do anything that will keep you out of my face for a few minutes." His hair was longer again; thick and beautiful even with sweat matting it to the elegant shape of his skull. He rolled it, arching a little and falling back. He complained again, "I'm cold. I'm so cold."

Mulder went to turn up the heat. He hid the pictures and letters so Alex's friend would not see them. Alex was asleep or feigning sleep when he returned. The images burned into Mulder's brain and he really was angrier with his father, mentally calculating the difference in the ages. Mulder had felt somewhat guilty just because of the few years' difference between himself and Krycek when they had been lovers. Seduction...could he call it that? Alex hadn't made the first move. Mulder did. Their entire time together he had been the aggressor, until it seemed that Alex was beyond caring what anyone thought. Mulder sat on the striped sheets, reaching to touch the damply cool skin.

It still came to him in dreams, making love to Alex. Watching that facade of toughness dissolve into passion. Alex had never claimed to be a virgin. He had never wanted to say anything about past affairs and at the time, Mulder was happy about that, feeling safer in Alex's discretion. Mulder looked around the bedroom; seascapes framed on the walls, a few books on the table after all this time. He had inherited this house. Who else was there? He had never wanted to sleep again in this blue painted room, where he had slept as a teenager visiting his father.

Mulder looked down to where Alex lay like a broken doll; wondering if his father had lent him this bed or if they had coupled in the larger bedroom where his father had slept. Yet, he could not imagine some happy young family or retiring older couple in the cottage where his father had died. Alex uttered a soft sound, a protest against pain. Mulder shuddered as unbidden; he envisioned his father's white flesh, already sagging with age above Alex's beautiful young body. He wondered if Alex had cried out softly like that the first time that Mulder's father had penetrated him? He wondered how his father had soothed the boy and then, somehow, created a romance that lasted well into college for Alex?

Mulder muttered, "So Alex, was he better than me? When you first took me in your mouth did you recognize the flavor and think about him?"

A firm knock upon the door shattered his reflection. Whoever it was sounded as if they might kick the door open if he didn't hurry. He opened the little verdigris plate and looked out, seeing a large woman. She was not pleasantly plump; she was fat and solid. Her dark brown, nearly black hair was wound in untidy braids then pinned up by something with dangling beads into a haphazard bun. She had skin that was a jaundiced tan in color and her eyes were like a tortoise shell, multicolored brown and yellow. Her woolen coat hung open and Mulder could see a smock, patterned with winsome dogs and puppies, straining across her slabs of breasts. She carried an enormous bag, with no appearance of discomfort. She looked at him disapprovingly and asked, "Where's my Alex?"

Mulder wanted to laugh. Not in a million years could he have imagined graceful Alex having even a friendship with this bear-like creature. She shoved the door open and said, "Would you stop gawking and lead me to him?"

Mulder said, "Yeah." His impulse to take the bag was quelled when she tossed her red and blue wool tent of a coat on the couch. Her forearms, revealed by the short-sleeved smock, were enormous muscled things. She looked as if she could have carried him and the bag.

The woman rapidly examined Alex, taking his vital signs with curious delicacy for the heavy, large and scarred hands that hung from her thick wrists. Alex woke up as she took his pulse. She smiled and large, straight teeth gleamed in her mouth. Laugh wrinkles crinkled around her eyes and mouth. "Mon fils, what have you done to yourself now? You were only gone a few hours, Alex."

Alex said, "You know how it is, Ursula."

The woman sighed and said, "I know you seem to have a death wish, mon fils Alexei. So who is this scarecrow, eh? Some new substitute for that gangling bastard you adore."

Alex said, "No, the real thing, that's Mulder."

Ursula eyed Mulder doubtfully then she said, "This is him...the most beautiful man in the world! He has a nose like a Sioux! His eyes are too close together. Now, my cousin, the one that dances both ways, now, he is beautiful. Eyes like a fawn and pretty like a girl. He is bright also; he is going to be a lawyer, something you might need one of these days."

The woman shrugged and finished her examination. She injected something and Alex went peacefully to sleep. "Eh, bien, mon fils."

The veterinarian quickly started an IV. Mulder asked nervously, "Is that human plasma?"

LeClaire snorted and said, "What do you think? I would put dog plasma in my Alex?"

Mulder asked, "How did you get it? Doesn't seem like a vet would have a good reason to obtain it"

"A very good friend directs the blood bank. He doesn't ask and I don't tell." The woman answered. Her movements were efficient and quick as she washed the wound, matched jagged edge to jagged edge and stitched them together.

Mulder winced at the drainage tube installed in the wound. The bullet had gone through and LeClaire said that it hadn't hit anything vital. With luck and good antibiotics, Alex would avoid infection, but she didn't want to let the top of the wound heal too quickly before the inner flesh healed. Mulder thought it looked as repulsive as the way Scully sometimes heaped the internal organs back in the cavity after an autopsy. He much preferred the human body with the skin on.

The woman finished her task, adjusted the IV and settled in a chair to wait. Mulder fidgeted. He had the urge to touch Alex, but he couldn't in front of this woman. He paced for a while and came back to find the woman calmly reading a mystery, one embellished with large wooly dogs on the cover. He asked, "They write mysteries about huskies?"

LeClaire sighed and said, "Malamutes...the dogs are malamutes. There are Siberian Huskies known as Siberians, Canadian Huskies, but no huskies, ok?"

Mulder sat on the bed as she had the only chair and did not appear to be ready to leave it any time soon. He asked, "So where did you meet Alex?"

The woman put aside her book and answered, "He was brought into the shelter where I worked, a runaway. No one could get a word out of him about his parents. He said that they were dead. I liked him; he was bright and he was different. So, one day these suits turn up and prove that Alex was Alex Krycek, adopted by a family out of state. He didn't want to go. He begged me to help him. We wanted to file an alternative residential petition, but the judge turned it down. I'll never forget the expression on his face when they dragged him out of the shelter. I quit that job the next day.

Somehow he found me a few months later; I was a paramedic again, working my way through veterinary college. He lived with me for two months. One day I came home and my dog was dead. My beautiful pit bull mix that slept in Alex's bed had been shot and Alex was gone. I didn't see him again until he was eighteen. I had moved here to work with the old veterinarian that ran the clinic before I bought it. I was shopping and saw a beautiful boy with an older man. I hadn't seen Alex in four years, but I recognized him. I guessed right away what the relationship was, but it seemed to make Alex happy so who was I to complain. We've been in touch on and off ever since. He loaned me the money to buy out my boss when he retired and he loaned me some more to upgrade the facilities."

Mulder shook his head. He wondered if Alex genuinely liked this woman or if he was using her, as he seemed to use everyone. LeClaire could certainly take care of Alex better than he could. Mulder said, "I'm going to go in the other bedroom and sleep."

This had been his father's room. Mulder changed the sheets, although the ones that he found in the linen closet still smelled stale. His father's bed was shaped like a giant sleigh with a dark cherry-wood stain under the shining gloss of the headboard. It was sturdy, a genuine Shaker piece as was the rest of the bedroom set, the large wardrobe, the double dresser, and the sturdy bed table. Mulder went out and retrieved his suitcase and, on impulse, he also took the envelope of pictures and letters from the drawer where he had concealed it.

Mulder undressed, looking at his body in the mirror. Like Alex, he had many scars. He fingered the one Scully had inflicted; the bullet wound in his left shoulder. He smiled at the star-like circle of white scar tissue. That move almost made him think she had potential. Mulder locked the door and noticing a radio; he turned it on. The setting was to a jazz station and he left it there; it was familiar to him. His father had loved jazz and the beat had annoyed his mother. Here, at his father's house, the radio or the stereo had always been on. Mulder put his fingers on his nipples, stroking them erect, remembering Alex sucking on them, the lap of his tongue, circling endlessly until he would push the dark head lower, arching his groin impatiently for that cherishing mouth.

Mulder's heart beat faster as he opened the envelope. He shoved the pictures with both of them aside, scrupulously choosing the ones, which only had Alex, posing naked and lewd, with mischievous smiles on his well-shaped lips. He spread the five pictures on the dresser and took out his always-packed lubricant. He turned the radio up a little louder as he stroked the stuff over his cock, imagining it was Alex, standing in front of him. He focused on the pictures, imagining that version of his lover, so innocent, a virgin. Would he have been rough and demanding if Spender had given him the job of deflowering the boy?

After all, Alex would have had no recourse. He could have just wrestled the clothes off him, as he had just done earlier with the much older, scarred version of this teenager for a less enjoyable reason.

Mulder groaned as he pictured himself forcing the boy to his knees, ordering him to open so he could push his cock into the virgin mouth. He pictured the hair twisted in his powerful hands as he ruthlessly thrust deep into the throat. Alex would have wept; he was so pretty when he cried. Mulder slowed his pace as he thought, 'I wouldn't have finished that way, I would have...' dragged the boy to the bed and laid him across it at the edge. He would have pushed his lubricated finger into the clenched anus, the boy's legs already arched over his shoulders. He would have spent some time preparing him because he could be kind as well.

As Mulder imagined that first push, the cry of the boy as he penetrated him, his legs shook as he came as hard as he had cum the first time that Alex and he had made love. He sagged back, catching his breath in deep, harsh gasps as he recovered. As soon as he could, he hurried back to the dresser, making sure that he had not soiled the pictures. He would have to get some duplicates made, perhaps a slide show. He would need covers for them so he would not ruin them. He put these pictures separately from the others, his now, not his fathers. Mulder wished the woman wasn't here. If they were alone, he could have found some way to have Alex. His mouth wasn't hurt or he might have even...well, she would have to go to work tomorrow and there would be time.

Mulder got up early. He found LeClaire drinking tea and eating scones. She must have brought supplies with her as he had forgotten to shop. He ran a hand over his wet hair nervously, hoping that the radio had covered his noise last night. Alex's color looked better. LeClaire said, "There's more scones in the kitchen. I've written down some instructions and you can page me if he changes for the worse. He appears to be doing fine now. I have to go to my clinic now, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

Alex woke as the woman kissed his forehead. He murmured, "I thought I just dreamed you last night. You're really here."

"Yes," she replied, "And tonight, if you are strong enough. I'll take you home."

Mulder snapped, "No, you won't. He's mine." The jealous rush of words stopped him. The slow rise of heat in his face acknowledged the oddity of his claim. Mulder corrected and said, "He's my prisoner. I'll decide what's to be done."

LeClaire's face scowled, twisting in rage to an ursine cast. She looked quite like a mother bear. Mulder fingered his gun, not sure why he'd felt he should wear it into the sickroom, but he had. Alex intervened with a docile, "It's okay, Ursula, let it go. Mulder and I have a lot of working out to do. Please don't interfere."

Ursula's voice was flat with barely controlled anger. She said, "You're a fool, Alex. What are you punishing yourself for now? What is this man, but some impossible fantasy that prevents you from forming real life relationships?"

Alex said, "You know, Ursula. You know how I feel and how can I change that?"

The woman shook her ponderous head and said, "Why must I always saddle myself with martyrs and dreamers? Kitish, merde, and dung! Movement hero's and resistance fighters; I think I should have gone to accounting schools and only met CPA'S."

Her grumbles, the slap of her heavy footsteps and the slam of a door traced her dramatic exit. Alex blinked at him from the bed. Mulder read his instructions and saw that the IV had been refilled. There was medication laid out and a thermometer, a rectal thermometer, sitting with probe covers next to it. He went in the kitchen and collected tea and scones. Alex gazed at him wistfully and said, "Those smell so good."

Mulder swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and replied, "Your instructions say 'Liquids.' I am to feed you broth at noon and Jell-O. You can have some apple juice now if you like."

Alex sighed and said, "Finish your breakfast first."

A few minutes later, Mulder propped Alex higher and guided the straw to his mouth. Alex's hair felt sticky from sweat and he was faintly sour with that particular tang of illness. Mulder said, "I'll give you a sponge bath later."

Alex looked at him with that expectant look. Mulder put the empty glass aside and said, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Alex nodded at that. "Yesterday isn't very clear. Did you shoot me?"

Mulder nodded and Alex's mouth twitched. He turned his face aside then as if not wanting to know more. Mulder turned the face back to him. He asked, "Did you love either of us?"

Alex winced and tried to wrench his face from Mulder's grip. He said, "And now you talk of love. You made a lot of promises, Mulder, and I saw how well you kept them. You're just like your father. He promised me things too, until he showed up at my dorm and told me that Spender said we were through."

Mulder asked, "Did he tell you why?"

"You." Alex spat. "He said he loved me, but all Spender had to say was your name and Bill dumped me. I knew what was real then. I was just a young body to him, a challenge at first and convenient; just like I was to you."

Mulder shoved Alex's head back and said, "You bastard, you know I loved you. You betrayed me. You sold Scully out! How was I supposed to feel?"

Alex lashed out with his IV tethered hand, his fist connecting feebly with Mulder's arm. He gasped, "Get out. Get out! Leave me alone."

Mulder actually backed out, almost stumbling in his haste. He ended up out by his car and drove around waiting for his head to clear. He found he was drawn back to the Christian-Town Memorial. It was a dismal day, very foggy. The light was so poor that Mulder couldn't tell if there were traces of blood left where he had shot Alex or not. He shrugged, feeling that it didn't matter. Alex could hardly make a complaint, could he? Mulder touched the cold stone of the cross, wondering what these people had made of their choices. Had they felt as uncertain and unsatisfied as he did?

Looking away toward the straggling trees that marked an untended border to the monument, Mulder saw someone watching him. He moved toward the dimly lit figure and it walked deeper into the woods. His long, lean sprinters muscles carried him forward before the man could get far. At first, the man continued to retreat, but as Mulder shouted, "Who are you?" The stranger turned. Mulder saw his father's features and the sad eyes of William Mulder turned ground-ward and he shook his head sadly. Mulder said, "Dad, wait...Dad?" The man disappeared. Mulder ran back to the car like a frightened child. He never wanted to return to this spot again.

Eventually, guilt drove him back, guilt and the fear of that monster of a woman. Doctor LeClaire looked as if she had a temper.

"Mulder? Mulder, I'm sorry." Mulder heard as he shut the door. "Mulder? Ursula? I need some help." Alex's voice cried.

Mulder ran, thinking that Alex must be hemorrhaging or something. Alex sat on the edge of the bed, naked, as they had left him, trying to reach the IV. Mulder asked, "What's wrong?" Alex said, "I have to go."

Mulder reached for the bottle and Alex miserably said, "The other too."

Mulder saw the bedpan that the vet had brought in that endlessly large and practical bag. He grabbed it and positioned it, helping Alex to move over it. Alex whimpered as his bowels released. "I'm sorry," he repeated

Mulder winced and said, "It's okay. Now, do you need the bottle too?"

Alex nodded. It took a few minutes to clean him and dispose of his waste. After that, Mulder decided that the sponge bath was in order. He turned the heat high and rolled Alex onto a large towel. He really had to do some laundry soon. He'd like to sleep on clean smelling sheets tonight. He washed Alex's hair, not even pretending that he didn't enjoy it. He gingerly avoided the drainage tube and the wound, but managed, after a moment of nausea that he hoped he concealed, to wash the scarred remainder of Alex's arm.

Mulder remarked, "Does that feel better?"

Alex sighed and said, "Yeah. Mulder, what I said before, I was upset. I don't really think that Bill used me." Alex looked down, an enchanting expression still, and added, "Nor you either. I guess if I'd trusted you...but when people try to help me, bad things happen. Ursula was lucky that it was just her dog. Now, she sleeps with an automatic pistol in her bedside drawer and she has five dogs, two of them big enough to eat anyone who broke into her house."

Mulder was patting Alex dry, using the time to explore all the changes in the body that he used to know intimately. There were so many scars now, yet Alex had a beauty that made them seem like the patina of life on a beautiful bronze. Mulder stroked a curl of pubic hair without thinking. He used to think that the way the hair grew in almost a perfect inverted triangle downward was enchanting, like a signpost to the treasures below. The belly was flat, ribs almost stark, as if he had not been eating well. The legs as always were wonders of muscle, the whole body a work of art. It was unusual for a tall man to have had such symmetry; Mulder sighed as he gazed at the left arm or at what was left of it; such spoiled symmetry.

Mulder moved the damp towel and made sure the bed was dry before drawing the covers up to warm Alex. He said, "You need to sleep. You need to get your strength back."

Alex asked, "Do you believe me now? About not killing Bill?"

Mulder shrugged and said, "I don't know. What can it matter now with everything else that has happened?"

Alex gazed up at him with a helpless expression. Mulder liked that. He could relent when Alex was quiescent, defeated like this. He leaned down, thought about kissing Alex's cheek as Alex had done to him. Instead, he pressed his lips to Alex's in a brutal kiss. He invaded the mouth; felt the tongue curling away from his and insistently bore down. Alex gasped. Mulder could feel Alex's startled intake of breath, pulling in his expelled air instead of the oxygen that was needed. The eyes looked frantic. Mulder knelt on the bed now, his hands grasping Alex's shoulders.

The sound of the door opening and LeClaire's booming voice sent Mulder guiltily away. He looked at Alex, whose mouth was surrounded by a rosy glow and who looked ravished as he lay there drawing quick breaths, the blanket slipping to bare his chest. Mulder begged, "Don't mention anything to LeClaire, Alex."

Alex shook his head. Mulder picked up the basin and the damp towels. LeClaire opened the door without knocking. Mulder indicated his burdens and said, "Excuse me. Alex wanted a bath."

The veterinarian narrowed those peculiar yellow mottled eyes and furrowed her heavy brows. She said, "His mouth is red."

Alex said, hastily, "Ursula, I begged for a kiss. Don't be mad at me!"

Mulder nodded at Alex, grateful for his intervention. The big woman was intimidating. He rushed out to empty the basin and to start the laundry. Ursula had the kitchen in chaos when Mulder emerged from his task. He saw piles of vegetables sitting ready while meat and seasonings bubbled on the stove. Ursula said, "Alex is very hungry so I am making chicken soup."

Mulder twitched his nose, the stuff smelled good already. He smirked, thinking of a popular series of banal books. He said, "Oh, Chicken Soup for the Assassin's Soul"

LeClaire stared at him then laughed heartily. She remarked, "Oh, it does have a sense of humor, does it?"

Mulder defensively answered, "A good sense of humor. Come on, lady; let's declare a truce. I suppose I am not going to turn Krycek over to the police."

The woman chopped a carrot into small slivers, adding this to the pot. She asked, "Why not? I thought he was your prisoner?"

Mulder shrugged and said, "Maybe because I want to protect my father's reputation and my own."

The woman snorted and said, "Oh, not because you still feel something for Alex?"

"You don't know. You can't understand." Mulder replied.

"You think so? Look at me. I'm a survivor, the descendent of generations of survivors. The dazzling brave ones died in grand battles. The weak and submissive died in misery. Only the tough ones survived and we still, in our own way, with guns sometimes, with words at other times, and with lawyers to best you at your own game when we can, resist. I understand how Alex thinks. He knows you can't always struggle in the open. Martyrs may serve as rally points, but if we are all martyrs, who will be there to fight them in the end."

Mulder drew back, suspicious of her words. He asked, "Fight who?"

She jammed the knife with horrific force into the carving board, making Mulder jump. She put her hands on her hips and faced him with scorn in her broad face. "Fight what, Mulder. Fight them. Don't you think that we were curious when they came, your kind? Didn't some of us say 'they have secrets, wonderful new ways; that we may learn'?

Didn't some say 'cooperate and collaborate'? Didn't others attack thoughtlessly and without understanding what they faced to die gloriously and uselessly? But some of us held back, smiled to gain weapons, and carried the words to other tribes as we pretended to play on the invader's side. Didn't that buy us the time to fight and to survive to fight another day? Who the hell do you think you are, Mulder, and what role do you think that Alex has played?" The heat gradually left her face and she sighed, wiping her hands on her green canvas apron. She ordered, "Watch the soup and sharpen that knife for me, man. I'm going up to give Alex his medicine."

Mulder stood thinking about her words for some time. He wanted to believe that she had fallen for Alex's lies, but something rang true. He sighed and went over to stir the soup. He had a hell of a time getting the knife out, falling on his ass when the carving board finally yielded it. He looked up as he heard laughter. The woman had arrived back in time to see him fall. He stood up and handed her the knife, saying, "Sharpen it your self."

Mulder changed loads, putting the sheets in to dry. LeClaire was making smooching noises into her mobile phone when he returned. She finished in a normal voice, "Tell Makwon to mind his manners and give Ojin her kisses from me, Ginger. Thanks for watching them." She hung up and explained, "My dogs needed to hear my voice."

Mulder rolled his eyes and asked, "You talk to your dogs on the phone?"

LeClaire looked at him as if he was an idiot and said, "Doesn't everyone?" Mulder didn't want to argue with the cantankerous bitch.

The soup was good and Mulder went upstairs to watch LeClaire feed Alex some. Krycek's color was already better and after he had rested from dinner, they changed his sheets and LeClaire withdrew the drainage tube. The neat bandage looked ever so much less gruesome. Mulder said, "Listen, you should get some sleep. I'll stay with Alex for a few hours if he needs watching."

LeClaire shrugged and asked Alex, "Is that all right? Are you getting along?"

Krycek said, "Yeah, it's fine. Mulder and I have lots to discuss. I'd hate to waste this opportunity."

Part 3

Mulder really didn't know why he had made that request. He pulled up a chair and leaned back, feet propped on the bed. He looked at Alex's face through the concealment of his own lashes, turning Alex's characteristic habit back on the double, triple 'who's keeping count' agent. And, God, Alex was still beautiful, his face like a fallen angel's, a Bodhisattva of desire.

Alex shifted on the bed once or twice, perhaps suspecting his scrutiny, but before too long, he turned sleepy eyes toward Mulder and said, "Good night then."

Mulder remained awake, reading through more of his father's papers. He was so tired, the papers dropped through his fingers to the carpet. He leaned to pick them back up and when he looked back to where Alex lay, his father stood there, tenderly stroking Alex's face and hair. Alex was smiling in his sleep, an angel's smile on his beautiful lips. William Mulder looked back at his son, Fox Mulder, stricken speechless and motionless by this apparition. Mulder's father leaned to kiss Alex and it seemed to Fox Mulder that his father was stealing Alex's breath for his inhalations hitched with a sharp sound as the ghost leaned over Alex. Mulder said, "Don't, dad, don't take him, please. He's mine. I need him. I..." Mulder saw the ghost waiting, his translucent fingers fondling Alex's hair. Mulder couldn't speak the words that seemed to him like a death sentence for any fantasy of normal life that he harbored.

Mulder stood and reached toward his father, who had turned his attention fully to Alex, bending to kiss him again. One ethereal hand rested on Alex's chest, no, it penetrated the blanket and deeper, surely. William Mulder looked intent, pleased, almost fulfilled. Alex's eyes opened slightly and gazed at his first lover. His smile widened in greeting and his whole expression seemed younger with a semblance of innocence that gave it irresistible charm. It seemed to Mulder that perhaps not much held Alex here to life. Would Alex go with his ghostly suitor? Mulder shook his head and he forcefully declared, "No! He's mine, dad. I love him."

William Mulder wistfully kissed Alex's forehead and then, his son's before walking through the wall and away. It took Mulder long moments before he realized that he should have asked about Samantha. However, he had accomplished something. Alex seemed fine when Mulder checked him. Alex woke briefly when Mulder leaned to kiss him. He asked, "What?"

Mulder replied, "I was worried about you. I thought your breathing didn't sound right."

Alex cautiously asked, "Worried about me? Because you think I have answers for you?"

Mulder said, his tone changed from the New England atonalism to a rougher emotion filled response, "Because I care, because I'm sorry I hurt you."

Alex smiled at that. Mulder finished with a gentle kiss, trying to place his warm human lips where the incorporeal had been. "Go to sleep. I want you to get well."

As if in obedience, Alex was vastly improved in the morning. Ursula allowed him a small, but solid breakfast and admitted that he was healing very well and had an amazing constitution. (She actually said admiringly, tough as a Staffordshire pitbull terrier.) After she had left for work and Mulder resumed his watch, Alex asked, "Mulder, did I dream it or did you say that you cared about me, last night?"

Mulder replied, "I said it."

Alex asked, "Did you mean it?"

Mulder couldn't say the words, not in the daylight without a hovering ghost to impel them, but he did nod. It must have been enough for Alex because he smiled broadly and said, "I really feel so much better today."

Mulder remembered yesterday's tantalization and thought that Alex might enjoy another bath. He stripped the covers back after preparing the basin. He really thought that he would give Alex his bath and then he would go to the other room to discharge his desire with the silent partner of those teenage pictures of his lover. Yet it was no surprise to Mulder that he soon stopped his pretense of washing and stood up, undressing. Ursula was at the clinic and even she had said that Alex was doing much better. He would be gentle and she wouldn't know. He was sure that Alex wouldn't tell. Alex looked at the condom and lube that Mulder put on the bed and his expression was odd. Mulder reassured, "I'll be gentle. I'll stop if it hurts, okay?"

Alex looked almost timid, eyes peeping from beneath the flirtation of his dark lashes. Mulder was already erect, but he moved Alex's hand to his cock anyway as he lay in front of him. He had rolled Alex onto his left side, propped him with pillows so he would be comfortable. Mulder felt it was hard to breathe. The desire was like a raging fever. He lubricated his hand and encased Alex's erection in it. He closed his eyes, remembering. It felt the same; this part of him had not changed. He moaned as Alex stroked him in turn. He couldn't take much foreplay. His heart was set on coming in the heat of Alex's ass. He moved away and changed sides, lifting Alex's leg to reach inside of him. His fingers felt for the hard knot and Alex writhed, whimpering when he found it. "Shh, try not to move too much."

Alex said, "Mulder, please."

Mulder replied only with the thrust of his fingers, the slow spread of Alex's flesh to accommodate his hard cock. He held the cheeks aside at last, pushing in to the heat, nearly dizzy with desire as he satisfied his need. Alex whimpered and Mulder ran a soothing hand over the perspiring flesh. "Just give it to me." He said, "I won't hurt you."

Alex answered, "Not hard, okay, not like you did to me in Russia."

Mulder said, "I won't. It won't be like that, I promise." He nuzzled Alex's neck, licking it and nibbling just below the ear." He reached one hand around and stroked Alex's pulsating flesh as he thrust steadily in. Alex groaned deeply, but he was open to Mulder. Mulder moaned, remembering all the times they had made love. A vision of his father doing this to Alex made him gasp. He asked, "Alex, how did he do it? My father...did Spender watch? Did he just rape you?"

Alex said in a hurt tone, "Mulder, please, that's private."

Mulder pushed a little faster, excited by the hint of pain in Alex's voice. He said, "Then he did rape you."

Alex replied, "No, it wasn't like that. He made it good. Please, Mulder, please, this is about you and me isn't it? You don't just want me again because he had me?"

Mulder said, "Of course not," but as he came, he still imagined the virginal eighteen year old instead of his grown up lover. He had no desire to move away when he finished. He lazily disposed of the condom; he would have to remember to put it in the outside garbage lest Alex's human watchdog found it. The basin was still near so he only had to reach to wash the traces away. He moved again, to hold Alex in his arms, satisfied, more content than he thought he would ever feel again.

The heavy, damp weight of Alex's head against his chest delighted him. He stroked the silken hair and said, "I want you to keep this long for me."

Alex slowly extended his hand to shyly touch Mulder's face. He asked, "Does that mean that there's an us again?"

Mulder drew the hand to his lips, kissing the fingers, sucking each one in turn, circling with his tongue until Alex's eyes painted themselves with a haze of pleasure. He said, "Yeah, Alex, I think so. I'm jealous, Alex, I wish it had been me not my father. It doesn't seem right somehow that it had to be like that for you. Your first time should not have been at Spender's orders." He admitted, "It should have been with me." The words rang in the room and Mulder didn't regret saying them. Still, Mulder sighed and rolled out of the bed. He said, "I don't want your friend to catch us like this. I shouldn't have done this so soon, but you know how crazy you make me, Alex."

"Yeah," Alex said wearily. He closed his eyes.

Mulder worriedly checked the bandage and was relieved to see it was clean. He leaned down and kissed Alex's eyelids. He tasted tears and asked, "Alex, did I hurt you?"

Alex said, "No, I'm just so tired."

Mulder, worried, said, "I'm sorry. I don't know why I couldn't wait until you were stronger."

Alex replied, " I didn't mean tired now. I mean, the reason I was here was that I was exhausted and I needed someone. I thought that I could do it alone. I thought that it was my job to work from the inside, but I can't do it any more. I can't fight everyone any longer."

Mulder found himself, crumpling back to the bed. "That's how I feel too." He admitted. He stared at the ceiling, counting the squares in the tile. The answer came to him in as obvious. He said, "We were partners, Alex."

Alex nodded and reached out his hand to rest on Mulder's naked thigh. He said, "Yeah, we were."

Mulder said, "Let's do it again."

Alex looked confused and said, "What do you mean? Have sex again? Mulder, I liked it, but I'm still weak."

Mulder said, "No, you idiot. Not have sex. Let's be partners." He captured the hand and brought it to his lips. "You and me against the world. Fuck them all, the aliens, Spender, the elders, just you and me and...Scully. I'll tell her soon. I'll let her know you're on our side."

Alex said, "Well, let me know when so I can call the ambulance."

Mulder grinned and said, "I'll work my way up to that point gradually. Maybe, Ursula could have a woman to woman talk with her."

Alex replied, "They probably would find a way to commit us both, you, me, and one straight jacket, romance."

Mulder felt a rush of warmth. That was his Alex, quick with words, funny, beautiful man. How could he have forgotten? How could he have denied this all these years?

Mulder grinned and leaned down to kiss Alex again. He said, "I want you to take a nap now. I want you to get well." He dragged Alex's lip down with his own, trailing his kiss down to Alex's chin. "When you're well, Alex, I promise you, I won't always be gentle, but you'll like it."

His answer was Alex's stare, curious, still a little apprehensive. Mulder said, "I'll forgive you if you forgive me."

Such a quick movement, the head jerked to the side, the eyes shading, the soft movement of Alex's throat as he swallowed his pain, Mulder caught all the shades of emotions in that brief reaction. He carefully tucked Alex into the sheet and blankets, smoothed his hair, and said, "Don't worry about that now."

Alex said, "I'm not, I mean, I don't have to think about it. I want to be with you."

Mulder closed his eyes, swayed, knees literally weak with reaction. "Okay," he replied, his fluent speech fled before his emotions. He left Alex to sleep and went to finish cleaning out the desk.

Mulder was nervous when LeClaire arrived. Firstly, she had two of her dogs with her. One was a nervous, hyperactive tail-less dog that eyed him uncertainly with one blue eye and one brown. The other was a monstrosity as huge as his mistress. It had a head the size of a bull, with a ridge running distinctively over the top. This dog mountain was sleek, solid, clad in a tuxedo of hair, shining white breast, black jacket, and brown vest peeking from beneath the gloss of jet colored fur. The unyielding gaze took Mulder aback. Dogs should not meet your eyes like that as if they were not canines, but Anubis in disguise, come to weigh your soul and finding it lacking.

Mulder said, "Hey, I don't want dogs in here."

LeClaire's eyes lit with the challenge. She said, "Okay, tell Makwon. He's the big guy."

The big guy padded up, sniffed, and one huge, glistening eyetooth was revealed in an Elvis sneer as he woofed his disparaging opinion. LeClaire said, "Come on, Ojin, Makwon, you want to see Alex?"

The tail and no tail both wagged blissfully. Both ran off toward the guest bedroom as if they knew exactly where their friend was. LeClaire followed them, making them lie down and wait until she had peeked through the door. All three disappeared into the room. Mulder resumed sorting papers. He thought he should do something about the love letters and pictures. He wondered, in the face of this new knowledge, if the divorce had been about Samantha after all. All of his life, psychological pundits aside, he had felt guilty about the cold silences, the heated words, which characterized his family life between Samantha's disappearance and the eventual separation. Now he thought that it might not have been about him after all. He wryly grinned as he remembered Skinner asking him, "What makes you think it's about you, Mulder?" and Scully's more frequent, "It's not all about you, Mulder."

All right, they had a point. It didn't center on him nor should he bear the burden for things that were beyond his control. Mulder fed a bunch of old bills and correspondence to the fire. He decided that he would return the pictures and letters to Alex. Let the object of his father's affection decide what to do with the things.

LeClaire emerged from Alex's room and cast another measuring look at Mulder. She said, "Alex says that you have made your peace with him."

Mulder replied, "I wouldn't call it, peace, but, yeah, I think I understand now."

The big dog pushed his head under the woman's hand. His preternaturally intelligent eyes gazed from Mulder back to LeClaire. He seemed to be asking if he could eat Mulder now. The smaller dog emitted an excited, high-pitched bark and came bounding from Alex's room. She leaped up, putting her front paws on her huge brother to get a better view. LeClaire looked at the dogs fondly and asked, "You couldn't have explored your feelings without shooting him?"

Mulder replied, "I'm a bit dense that way. Are you going to cook or shall I go out for something?"

LeClaire said, "Alex wants Chinese food. I'll have to cook. The one place, that claims to serve Chinese food, ought to be boiled in its own starchy gravy. Why don't you go in and keep Alex company, although he doesn't need any more exertion."

Mulder blushed; he had removed the condom and aired the room. How the hell did she know? He hastily retreated to Alex's room. Alex was reading. Mulder sat on the bed and he repressed a laugh as he noticed that Alex was reading "Alice In Wonderland". He reached for the book and said, "Are we in our second childhood now, Alex?"

Alex didn't give him the aged, blue covered book. He replied, "Read this to me, Mulder." Alex's fingers held the page open.

Mulder took the book. It was very old. The pages were worn and yellowed. The edges were softened, bent here and there with time and loving hands. On impulse, he thumbed to the fronts piece and found, 'Alex, his book', scrawled in a rounded childish hand. The inscription above was, 'From Kolya to Alexei, your book now.'

Alex said softly, "My sister read it to me when I was little. I used to love this thing, the part that goes,

" 'The time has come,' the Walrus said, To talk of many things: Of shoes -and ships -and ships-and sealing wax- Of cabbages—and kings—And why the sea is boiling hot—And whether pigs have wings.'"

Mulder read the poem from the start and, although he smiled at first, he understood why Alex now found the poem disturbing. He said, "That's us, Alex, isn't it? We're the oysters and Spender is the carpenter."

Alex nodded and replied, "I think that was how it was with our parents, running along with shining faces and polished shoes, sure that it was a grand adventure until they were consumed by it, one by one."

Mulder shuddered and said, "Shush, I'll read you Jabberwocky instead, we'll defeat the Jabberwock, my beamish boy."

Alex found a smile and said, "And we'll shun the Frumious Jub-Jub bird." Alex snickered and added, "I used to wonder about that vorpal sword in hand stuff when I got old enough to have a dirty mind."

Mulder gave in to the impulse to kiss Alex. Oh, God, it was as good as ever, he moved his hands restlessly, reclaiming the flesh. He had to admit that if it were just Alex's body that he loved, it wouldn't still hurt so much. When he and Alex had been together, Mulder had believed it was love. It had felt real and now as he touched him again, looked in his eyes, he believed again. He slipped under the covers with Alex and drew him close. He hadn't meant to sleep, but when Alex laid his sleep-heavy head against Mulder's chest, so close that his warm, moist breath tickled along his face, Mulder couldn't move away again.

Mulder heard a noise and protectively moved closer to Alex even in this half waking state. LeClaire's voice said, "Such a pretty picture."

Mulder blinked at her and said, "We were talking and suddenly I was tired."

Alex was awake too now. He stirred, struggling to sit back up. Mulder helped him, propping the pillow as guilt stung him, both for this wound and the older one. Mulder asked tenderly, "Do you need anything?"

Alex said, "Dinner?"

LeClaire said, "Ready now. Mulder, come help me. We'll bring it in here and eat with Alex."

The tray was laden with stir-fried vegetables, orange-sesame chicken, glowing with its sweet glaze, and a mound of steamed rice. Mulder sat next to Alex, and said, "Let me feed you."

Alex's lashes flickered as if he was hurt or embarrassed. He said, "I can feed myself."

Mulder said, "I know, let me anyway, please..."

Alex licked his lips, his distrust evident. LeClaire said, "Come on, Alex, let him baby you a little. I think it would be cute."

Alex grumbled, "Cute assassins finish last."

Mulder held out the first bite of chicken and Alex looked at him truculently. Mulder said, "Do I have to make airplane noises?"

Alex said, "God, no!"

Mulder used the nicely open mouth to insert the food. He tried the next bite and found it acceptable. Between feeding Alex and eating his own meal, Mulder kept his mind more or less off the thoughts that were tempting him. He did sneak a kiss when LeClaire left to take her dogs out.

When the woman returned, Mulder decided to confront the issue. He said, "LeClaire?"

"Ursula," she said, her peculiar yellow eyes warmer then they had been. "You can call me Ursula and I," she added with a grin, "will not call you Fox."

"Okay, Ursula, I know you have a damn good reason not to trust me with Alex, but it really is different. I want to sleep with Alex tonight, just sleep. Well.. cuddle too okay, but I won't hurt him. " Mulder said, wishing like hell that he was not blushing. Mulder extended his hand and said, in a challenging way, "Deal?"

Ursula nodded and shook his hand firmly. "Deal, if you think you can show some self-restraint?"

Mulder nodded. Ursula said, "Okay, I miss my other dogs anyway. I'll come in after work tomorrow and check him. You be nice."

Mulder made his father's bed with fresh sheets. It was going to feel strange to sleep with Alex in that bed. Mulder knew better to ask him if he and Mulder's father had renewed their relationship in that bed. A brief vision of the way his father had looked that last time flashed through Mulder's head and he turned down the bedding for Alex. 'Good going, dad," Mulder thought. 'You knew Alex had been my lover and you still had to have him one last time. You couldn't have told me the truth about the way Spender worked, the intimidations, the temptations, the duplicity of his games.' Mulder shook his head; it was the way it was. Now, he had another chance with his lover. Although Alex was willing, Mulder really was nearly chaste. They exchanged kisses. Mulder stroked Alex's hair and brushed his cheek with his fingertips, interposing a random pattern of kisses between softly touching his lover. Mulder said, "Alex, I want to do something special when you're well enough."

Alex blinked sleepily and answered, "Just not hitting me is pretty special."

Mulder insisted, "I want to show you that I really mean it this time. I know you're no angel and neither am I one. This time, I love you with no illusions. I know what you've done. I imagine before this is through, we both will have more regrets. It's okay. I want to show you that I'm committed."

Alex smiled wryly and said, "You're thinking about exchanging vows? Hey, I might wear something with white lace for you if you bribe me, but I'm never going to be your blushing bride."

Mulder replied, "Just think about it, okay?"

Alex nodded. Mulder sighed and lay flat on his back. Alex's remaining hand draped over him. Alex's toes made a brief path from Mulder's foot to his ankle, back and forth, slower and slower, until Mulder saw that Alex's face was slack, open lipped, innocent again in sleep.

They slept heavily and when Mulder woke, they were tangled in a delicious heap. He woke his beloved with a kiss and helped him to the bathroom. Alex walked on his arm to the kitchen, proud of his progress. Alex looked as if he was worried about Mulder in the kitchen, but Ursula had been clever, stocking fresh cinnamon bread, a block of cream cheese, and fresh fruit so Mulder could fill a plate with appetizing food and proudly present it. Alex ate well and seemed very content.

Alex leaned across the dregs of their food and said, "Mulder, were you serious about what you said last night about having some kind of ceremony?"

Mulder asked, "What would convince you? You want me on my knees, lover?"

Alex laughed, that rippling cascade of a sound that made Mulder want to hear it all the time. He replied, "I seem to remember that I did like you in that position. No, I'm willing. Maybe Ursula can think of something. She's always scheming."

After breakfast and a teasing bath, Mulder delivered the pictures and letters to Alex. His lover received them and leafed through them, his lip quivering as he caressed the reminders. He sorted out two pictures of him alone that didn't have notations. These he gave back to Mulder silently. He said, "So you can see what I was."

Alex went to the fire and knelt by it. He kissed the stack of pictures and letters then fed them solemnly, one by one, to the blaze. Mulder walked over to sit beside Alex, watching the fire consume the memorabilia. "You don't have to do this." Mulder said.

Alex said, "Yes, I do. I never really said good-bye to him. There wasn't time."

Alex's face was even more beautiful with the changing light and shadows of the fire illuminating and shading him. Mulder could see tears sparkling in Alex's eyes. They rolled gradually down his lover's cheeks. Mulder joined his hand to Alex's to guide the last of the pictures to the flames. The picture fell almost out of the fire. A corner turned up and slowly the picture became sepia, curling like an autumn leaf. Mulder said, letting go of some things too, "He wasn't a good man, my father, he wasn't strong enough to resist. He wasn't strong enough to live with his decisions. I loved him, but I don't want to be like him." The picture caught flame at last and was quickly consumed.

Mulder moved closer to Alex, knowing he should not let Alex sit long on these unyielding bricks. He cupped Alex's cheek in his hand, not exerting any pressure but that of his will. Alex still stared into the flames. He said, "He was good to me. It could have been worse, so much worse, and I wanted to be loved. I needed someone so badly and he wanted me. He said I made him young again. I hated him for ending it. All I knew was that I had proved again how unworthy I was of anyone's care. He loved you more. He really loved you the way you love Scully."

When Alex's eyes finally rose to meet his, Mulder tried to put it all in his eyes for his lover to see. He said, "He failed you and we failed each other. Let's start again. Let's try, at least. Give me a chance, Alex."

Alex leaned forward, his body drawn toward Mulder's until they touched. Mulder captured him and held him, so close, "Never again," he promised, "I won't let you go again, Alex." He stroked his hand down the silken tickle of hairs on the nape of his beloved's neck and traced the too evident knots of the spine to the defenseless hollow before the swell of his exquisite ass. Mulder said, "Come on, you need to rest."

Alex allowed Mulder to help him to his feet, but he said, "Lie down with me. I need you."

Mulder refused the blandishments to take it further. He said, "No, we will save it for after we do what ever we are going to do."

Later that day, after pronouncing Alex a miracle of healing and hearing Mulder's plans, "Jump a broom." Ursula suggested, "That's how the country people would do it when the priest wasn't around."

Alex frowned and said, "Somewhere between that and a wedding ceremony, my sister- bear."

Ursula furled her brows, something that never needed much doing with her massive brows, "Blanket ceremony, it just so happens that I have this beautiful new blanket that I was given. Let me call my sister and get her cranking on some shirts. She never sleeps either and she can sew something besides skin. Let's see blue, green and gold ribbons for you, gold, blue, and gray for Mulder." Ursula mumbled, whipping out a notebook.

"Ribbons?" Alex asked.

Ursula said, "Yeah, can't have a retro Movement wedding without ribbon shirts. You'll like this. I smudge you off, you just say something to each other about how you are going to stay in love and treat each other nicely, which does include not shooting Alex, if you are confused, Mulder."

Mulder said, "Give me a break. What would you think if someone shot your dad?"

Ursula snickered and said, "That he crawled in somebody else's teepee one too many times, but that's another story. Okay, so save it for afterwards."

Part 4

Three days later, the two men stood, clad in calico shirts with multicolored ribbons trailing from every available surface. They smelled of the smudge, a concoction of sweet, pungent, evocative odors that fortunately did not remind either man of Spender. The barbeque pit held a fire for dramatic purposes. The witness was Ginger, an elfin girl with long dark hair and a Brooklyn accent as sharp and nasal as the snort from an elephant's trunk. Ursula's dogs held perfect stays, lying down in an attentive canine guard of honor. Ursula, her hair in braids, scalp locks dangling in snakelike tight twists on either side of her head, wore her own red and blue ribbon shirt and a vast, long denim skirt. She had said she WAS NOT acting as the minister. She was just asking the questions. Mulder stomped his feet on the cold ground to get his circulation going. The rain was mixed with snow now and the fire was not actually keeping them warm.

Ursula had made them write down every hurt, every lie, and all the misery that they had inflicted on each other. That had resulted first in a heated argument and then damn near in a violation of their three and a half days of chastity. Now, they took each other's lists and fed them into a fire. "I won't speak of these things in anger again, beloved." They promised each other. Ursula threw some lavender and rose petals on the fire to take away the bitterness that rushed from the ashes of the paper. The sweet smell was heady or was that the smile on Alex's face that made him feel light and floating?

Mulder held Alex's hand and said, "Before these witnesses, I say, you are my beloved and I want no other."

Alex's hand gripped Mulder's with intensity so strong that it made his knuckles white and Mulder winced. He said in a tremulous voice, "Before these witnesses and before God, I swear, you are my beloved and I will have no other."

Ursula grinned at them, her happiness almost lending her heavy features some reflection of beauty. She held out the blanket, the dazzling blanket with the mountain pattern. She said, "One blanket, that's all you'll need. One blanket for one heart in two bodies."

Mulder looked at Alex and his lover's face was unmarked by all of the hardship and doubtful deeds. The years had dropped away and he saw the young lover he had seduced. He saw the perfect love that he thought lost forever. He took the blanket from Ursula and drew it around them. Alex leaned close, murmured, "Oh, God, Mulder..." They leaned toward each other as Ursula lifted the blanket higher so that it covered their heads as they kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed.

Mulder finally was aware that Alex was shaking in his arms. He looked at him tenderly and said, "I know, it's cold. Let's get you back in to the house."

Alex laughed and said, "It wasn't that, Mulder. I was just happy. I never thought I would ever be this happy again."

Ursula pretended that the brief ceremony hadn't moved her. She whistled her dogs out of their polite stays, opened her van doors and allowed all the dogs to pour into it, and said, "Huh, I guess my work is done."

Mulder grinned at her and gave her a kiss on her cheek. He teased, "You're not as tough as you think, woman."

"Fuck you too." She said, majestically sweeping her long skirt into the van.

Mulder waved and went back to Alex, announcing, "We have her blessing. She said to fuck you."

Alex said, "Any time, partner."

"Now," Mulder said, "I already carried you over the threshold once so I guess that's enough."

The bed was freshly made, sprinkled with a little sandalwood for the sweet spice of their future and bitter myrrh to assuage for the past. Ursula had scattered rose petals, which Mulder found when he pulled back the covers. Mulder laid the blanket at the foot of the bed carefully before undressing Alex. He took his time, making this a ceremony as well. Alex let himself be disrobed, understanding that this was still part of the proceedings. Mulder laid aside the calico shirt, smoothing the ribbons of blue, gold, and green that Ursula's sister had sewn on it to match Alex's eyes. He kissed the sharp wings of Alex's shoulder blades, holding both arms in his grip as if they were equal. He stooped to kiss Alex in the center of his upper chest, where the bone of the shoulders and the breastbone met. Alex was so beautiful.

Alex said, "You keep my shirt with you, Mulder, until I have a real home. The blanket too"

Mulder answered, "I'll do that, but only to remind you that your place is with me."

Alex nodded and said, "Long as you say so."

Mulder replied, "Not long, forever will do." The beaded buckle, that had been the Christmas gift never unwrapped when Ursula's brother had died, was something borrowed. He took it off and laid it aside. He unfastened the buttons from their white, frayed, holes. The jeans were something old and something blue. He knelt to remove Alex's shoes and socks, looking up at his beloved. "Lay down. I want to see you lying there, waiting for me."

Mulder laid his clothes on top of Alex's. He walked naked to the bed. It was as if this was the first time. He knelt on the bed, leaning over Alex. Each kiss was like no other. Each kiss was burning and slaking at the same time. Each kiss drew them deeper and sweeter into each other so when one consumed; each was equally drawn into the heat. When one penetrated, each was pierced alike. Their bodies trembled in the effort. Each whispered, "Don't want to stop. I want to love you like this forever."

But they were so human, so frail, and they sank onto the bed. The rose petals had fallen everywhere. They clung to their skin, one lay damply against Alex's cheek. Mulder peeled it off and kissed the spot. He leaned on one elbow, looking down at his lover and said, "You look ravished."

Alex said, "Is that good or bad?"

Mulder replied, "Very good in a bad way."

Alex got his arm around Mulder's neck and said, "Get down here; you look ravished too, but the night isn't done. This is just a time out."

Mulder laughed at that and asked, "Are you going to yell 'New Man' in a few more minutes?"

Alex said, "No, same one, the one I always wanted."

Mulder said, "You have me now and I have you. Knew there was some reason I liked to be handcuffed to you." He leaned down and rolled Alex on top of him, lifting his legs to capture him and hold him tightly. He laughed and said, "New man, Alex."

Three days later, Mulder called Skinner asking for more vacation time and was begrudged another two days, two days to explore paradise and to remember how to live again. It was never going to be enough. They walked on the beach, bundled in heavy sweaters against the cold weight of the New England winter. Alex said, "You just want to walk out here to have an excuse to warm up in our special way."

Mulder said, "No excuse needed. When we are out here, it feels as if we are safe from everyone. I like being this way, just you and I."

Alex managed to plant a cold-lipped kiss on Mulder's mouth despite a blast of chill wind. Mulder sighed and said, "Better get you inside."

As they walked back, Mulder said, "We are going to take risks, Alex, I don't want to just see you once or twice a year. I want it to be the exception that you are not in our bed, not the other way around."

Alex said, "Mulder, I hate that stupid waterbed; get something classy and comfortable. That waterbed, it just isn't you."

Mulder wanted to explain that it had never been his idea to have a waterbed. He was sure that Alex wouldn't get that 'what's the number to have someone's mental health examined?' expression. However, it was complicated and he thought there would be plenty of opportunities to exchange stories. They went inside for their last night together in this house. Mulder hoped that somewhere Bill Mulder approved or at least understood, but no matter what, no one would ever cast a shadow between him and Alex again. One day later as his plane lifted from the ground, Mulder looked down as he caressed the Pendleton blanket. He kept his eyes on the black dot in his until he could see no trace of Alex. It had only been a handful of days but he knew he was a different man than the defeated creature who had arrived on his pilgrimage.

When he arrived at his office, Mulder grinned at Scully asking, "Did you miss me?"

She eyed him narrowly as if about to compare his behavior with a normal curve. Mulder said, "I had a great vacation. Met someone special. I'll have to introduce you some time."

Scully stared and said, "Mulder, are you sure that you're all right?"

Out of all the times that he had said these words, this time they were true. Mulder replied, "I'm fine, Scully. I'm really fine."

The End

xx

Now you will feel no rain,
For each of you will be shelter to the other.
Now you will feel no cold,
For each of you will be warmth to the other.
Now there is no loneliness for you.
Now there is no loneliness.
Now you are two persons but there is one life
before you.
Go now to your dwelling place,
To enter into the days of your togetherness.
And may your days be good and long upon the
earth.

Apache Wedding Blessing

xx

If you haven't read this lately, this is the poem that Alex uses to explain to Mulder what it was like being trapped by Spender. It is public domain now and is from Alice In Wonderland, my favorite book.

xx

The Walrus and The Carpenter
By Lewis Carroll
THE sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright—
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.
The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done—
'It's very rude of him.' she said,
'To come and spoil the fun!'
The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead—
There were no birds to fly.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand:
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
'If this were only cleared away,'
They said, 'it would be grand.'
'If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year,
Do you suppose,' the Walrus said,
'That they could get it clear?'
'l doubt it,' said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.
'O Oysters, come and walk with us!
The Walrus did beseech.
'A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.'
The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head—
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.
Out four young Oysters hurried up.
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat—
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.
Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more—
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.
The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.
'The time has come,' the Walrus said,
'To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings.'
'But wait a bit,' the Oysters cried,
'Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!'
'No hurry!' said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.
'A loaf of bread,' the Walrus said,
'Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed—
Now, if you're ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.'
'But not on us!' the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
'After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!'
'The night is fine,' the Walrus said,
'Do you admire the view?'
'It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
'Cut us another slice-
I wish you were not quite so deaf-
I've had to ask you twice!'
'It seems a shame,' the Walrus said,
'To play them such a trick.
After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!'
The Carpenter said nothing but
'The butter's spread too thick!'
'I weep for you,'the Walrus said:
'I deeply sympathize.'
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.
'O Oysters,' said the Carpenter,
'You've had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?'
But answer came there none—
And this was scarcely odd, because
They'd eaten every one.

Lewis Carroll

xx

ursula4x@Aol.com

Title: Oedipal Complex
Category: January 2000 Challenge
Author: Ursula Mary Sue
Spoilers: All the way up to "Amor Fati"
Disclaimer: Chris Carter made them such a temptation ...
Dedication: To Karen S. for a wonderful beta and some fun conversations.
And, also, for the beautiful blessing at the end of part 4

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