No, Cardinal was looking toward the store. His voice was
uncharacteristically kind as he asked, "I could use a beer. You want
anything?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
Oh yeah, Alex wanted something. He wanted his life back. He wanted to
back in the FBI, back trotting his ass after Fox Mulder, and best of
all, back in Walter Skinner's bed.
The worst of it was that Alex knew it was never going to be like that
again. Remembering the look in Walter's eyes when he saw Alex with
Cardinal and Freddy the thug, Alex looked away, far away into a
future where he was no more than another killer.
It was in that moment that Alex decided that he would rather be dead.
Spender stopped scaring him. Well, perhaps that wasn't true. You
would have to be crazy or dead for the smoking man not to scare you,
but Alex was more frightened of his future than he was of his boss.
He wanted out. Right now.
Ignoring Cardinal so that he'd leave, Alex slumped back into the
seat. He watched them go before drifting back into his fugue state.
His hands hurt. He had hit Walter so hard. The pain shot through his
hand, up his wrist, through his arm. It hurt his heart the most.
At that moment, Alex hated Walter. Hated him because he hated feeling
like this. Walter had gotten to him. Slammed into his soul the way he
had driven into Alex's body. If Alex had kept his cool, kept playing
the game, then Spender wouldn't have fucked him over like this.
Cardinal was looking back through the window of the store, probably
laughing at him. Then again...
That look, the look Cardinal got when he was about to kill something
was in his eyes as he glanced at Alex. There was something wrong. The
clock was flashing in a way that Alex had never seen before.
God! The car was wired to explode.
Alex was running, running and he was never going to stop.
Days later, Alex woke with a start. His head was sore and he was cold
as hell.
"End of the line, buddy," the trucker said. "End of the line. The
dispatcher in Pittsburgh is no friend to hitchers. He'll can my ass
if he knew I picked you up. Good luck, kid. You look like you need
it."
"Tucker? Hey, Tucker, maybe I can meet you at a stop outside of town?
I don't know anyone in Pittsburgh," Alex said.
"Sorry, kid, but you should do okay here. They like good looking kids
here," Tucker said. He looked a bit ashamed and said, "I didn't mean
it like that, but there's always work here. You'll find something.
Chin up, kid."
Having no choice, Alex looked around. He was in the city and there
was a bar up ahead. Checking his pocket, Alex found an extra ten that
hadn't been there. He knew that Tucker was sorry to leave him here in
Pittsburgh.
Well, Tucker had driven him a long way, all the way from DC. Alex had
been lucky to find a ride and even luckier to find one that had been
willing to let him sleep in the compartment behind his cab. That
might have saved Alex's life unless Cardinal and Freddy had lied to
Spender and said mission accomplished. Alex touched the tape, safe in
his pocket. Well, he was across the street from the post office. Alex
walked in and spent part of his sparse cash to mail the tape to a
postal box he kept in Hong Kong. He had never expected to use the
address again. He hoped that he would have a chance to retrieve the
tape in person.
Shit, it was fucking cold. The rain had turned to sleet while he had
been inside and he had to get out of it. What he really wanted to do
is crawl into some hotel bed and put a do not disturb sign up for a
couple of weeks. Counting the change in his pocket, he had twelve
bucks left. There wasn't a sleaze bag motel cheap enough for that.
Well, the bar across the street looked warm and he could nurse a
drink for an hour if he had to. Alex wriggled his fingers and tried
to remember the technique for picking a pocket. He might have to
resort to that.
The bar was named "Woody's."
Ah, yes, Alex thought. It's fate. A gay bar. A fucking gay bar.
Wistfully, Alex's mind added, 'I always wanted to go to a gay bar
with Walter.I wanted to go out dancing with him, show him off. That
incredible ass. Those shoulders. That cock.'
Being closeted sucked and not in a good way.
Despite being the worse for wear, Alex was cruised the moment he
stepped in the door. Guess they didn't mind the leather boy with
dirty hair look.
A guy with sad eyes offered Alex a drink. "I'm Ted," the man
said. "You're new in town."
"Passing through," Alex said. His stomach growled and he looked around
hopefully for a menu. This Ted guy looked as if he would be good for
a meal. Ted was a tame puppy. Alex was sure he could lead him on for
a meal and a couple drinks, maybe even touch him up for a twenty
without having to deliver anything for it.
"And you are?" Ted asked.
"You can call me Lex," Alex said. He was too tired to think of a
better alias.
"Well, Lex, why don't you let me show you around?" Ted asked
hopefully.
There was no menu. Ignoring Ted for the moment, Alex snagged some
peanuts from the counter next to him. Anything to fill his belly. He
had slept through the last truck stop more then twelve hours ago.
A hand closed over his. It was a hard hand with a familiar callous
pattern on it. "That's mine," the guy said.
Pissed, Alex had to bite back his temper. Son of a bitch! The guy had
a lot of fucking nerve. However, he smelled like a cop. There was
something about the way he looked at Alex, the way he stood, and even
the way he sounded.
Alex looked at the guy as Ted tugged on his sleeve. Ted
said, "There's a booth free back there."
Ted was safe and Alex was sure that he could lead him around. He bet
he could even go home with Ted and not put out. A shower sounded
great. Alex started to rise to follow sweet, safe Ted.
"Where you going?" the older man asked. "I didn't say you could
leave."
What was this shit?
The man said, "You look as if you need a friend and like a boy who
doesn't need any more trouble in his life. I think we should go for a
walk."
Ted said, "Lex, hey, don't let this guy push you around."
"Beat it, Teddy. You name is Teddy, isn't it?" Mister Charm inquired
in a tone of voice that suggested that he was making notes in an
arrest record.
Looking scared, but still not quite ready to walk away, Ted stood
silently begging.
The big bad probable cop growled, "Beat it, Ted. That's what you
usually end up doing anyway."
Cold son of a bitch and not a looker, but there was something about
the authority and even more of something about the bill he threw down
on the bar. He glanced at it and glanced at Alex, letting him know
the score.
Damn, Alex had never been a whore, never used one either. He had some
shitty times in his life, but he had never been low enough to think
about prostituting. Thinking about what he did to Walter in that
stairwell, beating on a man whose shoes he was not good enough to
kiss, Alex wondered why he was having scruples now. He deserved this.
He followed the cop into the night.
Only the thought of a soft bed and a warm room, if even for a little
while pushed Alex on to follow the man toward an alley. Alex started
slowing down, waiting for some kind of ambush. Fat chance, he was
broke. The man turned around and said, "Hey, come on. My place is
above the garage back here."
"At the back of an alley?" Alex asked, cautiously.
"It's cheap. But it's clean and warm. You look like you need a hot
shower and a good night's rest, there, pretty boy." The man tried to
sound like he was purring, but it came out more as a growl. Alex had
been in worse situations than this; he could make his way out.
Hell, if he really thought about it carefully, he could probably get
the guy unawares, knock him out and rob him blind. That would save
his ass, literally.
"Hey, I gotta clean up a little. Relax a minute, eh?" he said,
leaving Alex alone in the smallish front room. There was a small
kitchenette thing that was part of a make shift living room. It
didn't have much, a card table, a half-assed futon and one folding
chair. There wasn't even a television. It looked clean in the dim
light from the small floor lamp, but it could look like anything in
the light of day. He turned to look out the window and saw the
back yard of something that looked like a diner. He was trying to
make out the name of the diner and missed the man come up behind
him. Alex turned to give the man his price and just caught the
upraised hand a moment too late. The blackness was quick to follow
the thunk on the side of his head.
Alex awoke to screaming pain all over his body. Mostly his head and
his ass. He roused but didn't move, sensing that he wasn't alone.
No, they were talking, two of them. That ugly-ass cop with the light
hair and some dark-haired guy. He was acutely aware that he was
completely naked and tied to some headboard. No, handcuffs.
Alex was handcuffed to an iron headboard, on his belly, naked. He
tested his bonds a little and no give. He'd been trained for this.
There had to be a little give, but no. They were damn tight. He
heard them again, closed his eyes and was very still. Alex had
learned when he was a little boy how to be really still.
Unfortunately, it did him no good.
One of the men got on the bed and without even a word, pulled his
cheeks apart and plunged in. Alex didn't even think about it and
tightened up. "Hey, pretty boy is awake, huh?" It was the man who
lured him there. 'Shit shit shit' he thought to himself. 'No no no,
no one has been in my ass but Walter! That's Walter's ass! Stop it!'
he screamed in his head.
Everything went black, but he hadn't been knocked out. It was a
pillowcase, he figured, pulled over his head. A fist slammed into
his ribs, effectively rendering him breathless. The man never
stopped moving in him, and he never stopped whispering in Alex's ear,
telling him what a hot slut he was, how tight his ass was and how
they were going to take every last bit he had to give them. He could
barely breathe, much less make the sounds they ordered him to make.
They wanted him to scream, to beg, to yell and cry. Alex resolved to
bear it in silence, save for a few grunts he couldn't help.
It seemed as if it went on for hours. First one would be inside him,
without benefit of a condom or lube, but after he tore, the blood
worked well enough. Alex never believed the old wives' tale that
after your body has been subject to severe pain for a while, you go
onto shock and become numb. He started to feel cold, regardless of
the sweat pouring off him. He started to shiver. The blows raining
down on his torso, sides and legs faded into the background.
'I'm going to die,' he thought to himself. 'They're going to beat me
to death and I'm going to die and the last memories Walter has of me
is beating him. Shit shit shit.'
And they stopped. He lay there for a moment, thankful they pulled the
pillowcase from his head, taking stock of his injuries. He could
feel a definite trickle from his asshole, but he didn't know if it
was blood or come. He probably had a few broken ribs, and there would
be bruises on him for months. Other than that, there didn't seem to
be any broken limbs. He could make a run for it when the situation
presented itself.
"Come on, help me with him, we can dump him by that diner." His
chance. He knew if he was going to get away alive, he'd have to play
dead and when they weren't paying attention, slip away.
They manhandled him onto a plastic tarp, a huge garbage bag it looked
like when he cracked his eyes open. They didn't know he was watching
them and he saw their faces. Both of them. The dark-haired one
seemed like he was meaner than the one who lured him there. Thing
One and Thing Two. Thing One grabbed his ankles and Thing Two
grabbed his wrists. He stayed slack to make sure they still thought
he was out like a light.
Alex felt them going down the stairs but he didn't know how far they
took him into the backyard. In the distance, there was a sound like
a door unlocking and he was unceremoniously dropped on the ground
like a sack of garbage. Thinking back to how they wrapped him, he WAS
a sack of garbage. The ground was freezing cold, and he knew that if
it were to start raining, it would be sleet. He thought he'd heard
the weather in that bar say there was rain due in the morning. It
had to be close to morning.
Taking a deep breath, he figured, if they were still around, whoever
was coming out of that door would help. He hoped. Alex pulled the
heavy black plastic from his body and realized that he was naked and
bleeding. Didn't matter. 'Need help. Now. Bleeding, cold, hurt.
Walter.' He stood and started blindly walking toward where he heard
the sounds of garbage being dumped. His face had been hit enough
that his eyes were swollen almost closed, but he could make out a
thick form standing there, closing a garbage bag.
Alex knew his only chance was to get this person's attention and
quick. His bare feet were numb from the cold concrete and his
vision, what little there was, was starting to get fuzzy. He must
have been choked hard because as he tried to call out, all he felt
was a throb of pain. The ground came up quick to meet his cheek.
Before passing out again, he heard a definitely feminine gasp. And
that was all for Alex.
Despite Michael's offer to take it out for her, Debbie swung the
garbage in her gloved hands to carry it out to the dumpster. She
wanted to get away for a moment, leave the noise and bright lights
behind. Although it was nearly time to close up, the place was still
full. The night was cold and there had been a rash of gay bashings
lately. No one wanted to go home. When Debbie decided to take out the
trash, Ted was talking about the one who got away. From the way he
told it, an angel had been out to go home with him when the devil
took him away. Michael had been rolling his eyes while Emmett
fluttered his usual ego boo at his friend, Ted. Why the hell didn't
those two get together? They were perfect for each other, Debbie
thought.
Shaking her head, Debbie hurried toward the dumpster. A gasp of
terror puffed out of her mouth as something white flew out of the
darkness at her. Something brushed her as it folded rapidly toward
the ground.
It took a breathless moment for Debbie to realize it was a naked man.
He sprawled face down on the pavement. His hand reached pitifully out
toward her, nearly as white as the snow. She froze in place, wanting
to back away, to turn, to run, to try to forget what she was seeing.
Instead her courage returned and she knelt to place shaking fingers
on the man's neck to check his pulse. It was a faint flutter beneath
her fingers.
"Help!" Debbie yelled, but it came out as a strangled whisper. She
tried again, this time getting out a full Debbie roar.
Surprisingly, Brian made it to her side first. He squatted and
said, "Is he dead?"
"No, but he will be if we don't get him inside," Debbie said.
"I don't think you're supposed to move injured people," Michael said,
as he skidded to a stop right behind Brian.
"Yeah? And how long is it going to take to get an ambulance here?"
Debbie said.
"Get him inside."
Everyone was out now. Ted and Emmett grabbed the man's legs as
Michael and Brian gingerly held him by the arms.
"He's bleeding," Debbie warned, "Be careful."
"No shit," Brian said. "He's a fucking mess."
"It's him," Ted said. "The guy from the bar. What did they do to him?"
"You sure?" Debbie asked.
"Yes, I'd know him anywhere," Ted said.
"You know his name?" Vic asked, coming out of the kitchen to the
storeroom where they had laid the unconscious man out.
"He said his name was Lex," Ted said.
"Last name?" Debbie asked.
"Sure, we exchanged name, address, and HIV status at Woody's," Ted
said.
"You should," Debbie said.
In the light of the indoors, the waif looked worse than he did
outside. His face was swollen; there were bright purple marks on his
neck. His thighs were stained with a nasty mixture of blood and come.
There were scrapes that looked like friction burns, deep abrasions on
his wrists; someone had bitten deep into the man's shoulder, and
there were finger tip shaped bruises all over him. His stomach and
ribs were a mottled mass of purpling marks.
Once in the storeroom, the injuries were even more apparent. Michael
had grabbed Brian's cell phone and was already calling for an
ambulance. The man opened his left eye, the one less swollen and
peered at Debbie. His hand twitched and he mumbled something. Leaning
closer, Debbie heard, "Walter."
"Did Walter do this to you?" Debbie asked.
"Walter," the man repeated in a slurred voice. "Want."
"Must be his lover," Emmett said. "Wish we knew where he was so we
could get him."
"Can't be much of a relationship if he was trying to pick up Ted,"
Brian said.
"His head is hurt," Ted said. He had found Debbie's blanket and
spread it over the suffering man. She used to take naps in the car
when it was warmer and hadn't got around to bringing the blanket home.
"Too bad," Brian said, "Waste to mess up a body and face like that
up."
"He'll be fine," Debbie said. "Shut up if you don't have anything
helpful to say." She didn't have to look at Brian to know he was
rolling his eyes in response. She knelt and lightly held the
outstretched hand. "You'll be just fine, Lex. We're going to take
care of you."
The eye slowly closed and the hand went limp in hers.
"Don't you die on me," Debbie said. "I don't let people die on me."
The eye opened a bit and despite his condition, Debbie could have
sworn she saw a glint of humor in the depths.
Whenever she thought the man was letting go again, Debbie called him
back. She kept him conscious by the sheer force of will until the
ambulance wailed in the distance. He was out when they loaded him
onto the stretcher.
Grabbing her favorite fleece coat, Debbie looked around until she
spotted Vic. "Lock up for me, Vic. Michael, come on. You can drive me
to the hospital."
"Mom, we don't even know him!" Michael complained, but he grabbed his
coat too.
"I didn't mean everyone should come," Debbie said, looking around her
at the usual suspects. Brian smirked back. Emmett was making deep eye
contact with a handsome man in a nurse's uniform. Ted was thumbing
through brochures, an earnest look on his face as if he was studying
for a test on the material.
The intake worker shoved the admission form at Debbie again and
said, "You must know something about him. You came in with him."
"Really, I don't," Debbie replied. "All I know is he introduced
himself to Ted. . . Ted, come here."
"Yes?" Ted said.
"Did Lex say anything else about himself?" Debbie asked.
"He said he was passing through," Ted said.
To compound the confusion, the police finally showed up. They noticed
Emmett first. He was wearing pink and yellow, a fluffy pastel coat
keeping his tall, thin form warm. Debbie saw the cops exchange looks
and smirk.
"Gay bashing or did the guy's boyfriend get rough with him?" the
older cop asked.
"He was raped," Brian said, his usually amused voice lacking its
typical indifference.
"Probably a hooker," the cop ventured.
"Even if he was, he didn't ask to be beaten and nearly killed. If my
Mom hadn't gone out when she did, he would be dead. He was tortured!"
Michael shouted.
Feeling proud of her son, Debbie stepped forward and said, "I'm a
member of PFLAG. You better watch what you say about what happened to
Lex."
With a grunt of amusement, the aging cop wandered off to look at the
medical records.
"It isn't 1960, for God's sake," Debbie muttered after the retreating
back. Her voice dropping even lower, she added, "What an asshole!"
They had finally finished examining poor Lex and found him a bed in
Critical Care. Debbie managed a look at Lex's chart; she wanted to
make sure they had done a swab.
"Are you a relative?" a voice asked.
"Uh," Debbie said. She looked at a beautiful young man with cocoa
colored skin and big blue eyes. His reddish colored hair was coifed
in a multitude of little braids. "Kind of. Closest thing he has."
"Oh," the man said. He was wearing a well-tailored suit, a honey
colored silk shirt adding a flamboyant touch. There was something
about him that made Debbie think he was a member of the club. "He's
going to make it, but he's going to need a lot of care. A Mister
Kinney told me that this patient doesn't have insurance and wanted me
to apply for the Waylon fund for him. I'm Tekumi Eto, the hospital
social worker."
Brian . . .
Brian was amazing. Debbie had never known what to make of him. When
Michael and Brian were kids, she had been torn between wanting to
mother the beautiful boy from one of the most fucked up families she
had ever seen and wanting to keep him away from Michael. Her feelings
had not settled with any more clarity in the years since.
Well, this must be one of Brian's rare second dates and, even more
shocking, the guy still liked Brian. Debbie said, "What's the Waylon
fund?"
"There was a dear old gay man who had a mostly platonic relationship
with a much younger college student. When he died, the student was
surprised to find out that he had been left a considerable fortune
and that his elderly friend had been deeply in love with him. The
student used part of the money to pay for his social work degree and
the rest to set up a trust fund. The interest from the trust fund
pays for the gay victims of rape. Victims of crimes don't usually
have enough to buy a box of tissues to wipe away tears in a
hospital," Tekumi said. His large, black as coal Asiatic eyes
fluttered closed for a moment along his prominent, but delicate
cheekbones. Gawd, what a beauty! Brian Kinney was a fool not to
feather a nest for this one.
"Well, the social work student's loss was the community's gain,"
Debbie said softly. "This kid is going to need a lot, including
counseling when he wakes up."
"I'm your man for that," Tekumi said. "I work with some clients
outside of the hospital." He smiled wistfully and said, "Somehow I
never expected so much of this job would be referring clients to
public assistance."
"What's going to happen to him when he's better?" Debbie asked. "I
mean when he's well enough to leave here."
"A nursing home, I expect," the social worker said, "Unless he has a
place to go."
It didn't take a moment of thought. Debbie said, "He does. My place.
I have a room."
"It's going to be a lot of work. He probably won't be able to be
alone at first," Tekumi said.
"That's fine. My brother, Vic, lives with me. He needs a project,"
Debbie said.
"He would be okay with that?" Tekumi asked.
"Yeah, Vic's been around. He's been out before out was a concept,"
Debbie replied. A feeling of pride swept over her. She knew that most
people didn't spare a moment of thought for her brother, but it had
taken immense courage for
him to admit to being gay when the very admission could mean jail
time.
"All right," Tekumi said. "We should start some paperwork to begin
home health care for a while. It would help to know what to put as a
last name."
"Lex Novotny," Debbie said. "List him as my step-son."
And that was that. Debbie had always taken in strays.
"Just a little ways, sweetheart, then we can put you to bed," Debbie
assured as a quiet groan issued from Lex.
Vic tapped his fingers on the wheel as Michael tried to steer the
wheelchair without bumping any walls.
The day was bright, white light reflecting in prisms across the snow.
"It's cold," Lex said. "Still cold."
"Yeah, well, honey, it's winter," Debbie replied.
"It seems like months since I was outside. I thought it should be
spring," Lex said, his tone little boy lost.
"It will be spring soon enough and meanwhile, my place is warm.
You're going to be just fine."
"Yeah, yeah," Lex murmured. His eyes were fully open now, green jade,
still lovely even surrounded by the fading yellow bruises from his
beating.
Lex's lashes fell downward. Damn, he was as pretty as a girl, Debbie
thought. "Don't be scared."
His eyes met hers and he said, "Nothing scares me."
Vic turned around and said, "Then you're in a world of trouble. If
you stop being scared, you're dead. Remember that."
Lex raised a feathered brow, but the dull pain in his gaze lifted for
a moment. "I'll try to remember that," he said softly. "Sounds like
something Wa . . . a guy I used to know would say."
"Okay, grit your teeth," Michael said, "We have to get you into the
car."
A gasp emerged through clenched teeth, pink lips pulled back in a
grimace of agony.
Debbie's eyes watered in sympathy pain. If she could have gotten her
hands on the bastard who did this to poor defenseless Lex!
The blinds were open enough to let in bars of light. Turning his
head, Alex could see the clock on the VCR. Thank God it was set. He
would wig out if he saw a blinking light right now.
The rocking chair creaked. Alex looked over. Debbie was sleeping in
it. They never left him alone. Everybody was so fucking nice he
couldn't stand it. He kept expecting it to change. Some of the foster
homes he had been in had seemed nice at first too until he screwed up
and they beat him or until suddenly he was in the way and they put
him out on the curb with the garbage.
The pain was a dull ache over his body to go with the weak, sloshing
feel of his middle. The doctor still had him on a liquid diet while
his rectum was healing.
The beautiful, arrogant one, Brian somebody, had looked at him with
good honest disdain and said, "Cheer up. You're a tight little virgin
again. It's a miracle."
Debbie had hit Brian for that, a quick clout to the side of his head.
Brian had ducked away just far enough to make most of the blow fall
on empty air. It had startled Alex until he realized it was a ritual
between the two.
These people were weird. He couldn't figure them out. Here's Mom, but
instead of being freaked out over her gay son, she was as proud as if
he was the chair of the local Rotary Club.
Here's Michael and Brian as comfortable together as long time lovers,
but apparently not together.
Lovers. That's what Walter and Alex had been. It had been Alex's
first. He'd had sex since he was too young to know what went where.
He'd had plenty of partners, but only one Walter, one man who made
him feel something inside.
The dull ache from his ass made Alex remember again what the brutal
rape had taken from him. Somehow, in everything he had to do in his
life, much of it unwillingly, he had kept one thing for himself. When
he was with a guy, they could have his mouth. He would even go down
on his knees for them, but he would never let them penetrate him. He
would top them with pleasure, but not let them inside him. It had
always seemed too intimate, yielding too much. He had never thought
he would give that to anyone as he had to Walter.
Alex closed his eyes again, trying to think away the pain. His mind
returned to the first time with Walter.
It was not the first time they had made love, so to speak, if making
out counted, but it was the best.
When Alex answered the door, there was Walter, grinning, carrying an
armload of takeout food and looking edible himself. He had been
wearing old jeans and a worn soft flannel shirt, not anyone else's
version of sexy, but on Walter, it was an enticing as black leather
and skin.
He walked into the apartment and Alex immediately took the bags from
his hands to put them aside, making room to kiss him deeply. The
kiss seemed to transport them from the small, run down living room to
a world of light and happiness and love. He wasn't happy when
Walter pulled away and said, "The ice cream will melt."
"You brought me ice cream?" Alex asked, then smothered Walter's neck
in kisses.
"Yes, and it will be warm cream if you don't put it away, OK, baby?"
Alex felt a shiver go through him. Baby. Walter always called him
that. Not that he thought Alex was a baby, he'd said. He just loved
to baby Alex, treat him with kindness and do everything for him.
That's why he always brought dinner, drinks and dessert. He'd
admitted his marriage was a mistake, him denying his real feelings,
his desires. Sharon was always independent, not needing him to help
her or cater to her. It was the beginning of the end for him, before
it really began. When the romance wore off, there was nothing to the
marriage. He was just waiting for her to send him the separation
papers.
Alex had already set out the plates and silverware on the dining room
table, so he wasn't surprised to see Walter serving the delicious
Italian food he'd gotten. Mama Marie was the greatest chef in Falls
Church and her restaurant was always packed, but she was never too
busy to make some takeout lasagna or manicotti for Walter and Alex.
They sat eating, drinking wine, trying to talk about innocuous
subjects; things that had nothing to do with what made them first get
together. They had both just known, for a very long time, seeing
each other around the Hoover building, on the obstacle course at
Quantico. Alex was determined to find out if he was flirting with
his future or with disaster.
It was pretty simple; get him alone. And an assistant director is
never alone. It was difficult, but finally, he caught Skinner in the
parking garage, and asked. He was positively floored when the big
man agreed! Yes, Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner would meet him
for a beer.
The beer led to a movie. It was odd for Alex. Walter seemed to be
courting him. Oh, they kissed after the movie at Alex's door.
Walter seemed to want to pay for things, pick up and drop Alex off at
his home, as if he were courting a girl. If he were honest, Alex
would say it was nice to be pampered, to be
babied.
After dinner, Walter helped Alex wash and dry the dishes. It was
something out of a movie or a romance novel. Walter was the perfect
gentleman, uncorking the white wine while Alex got the glasses from
the cupboard. While Water poured the wine, Alex lowered the lights
and put on some soft music, setting the mood for romance. They sat
on the couch and talked some more until Alex had had enough.
Alex took the wine glasses and put them beside the empty bottle on
the coffee table. He looked at Skinner and said, "I think it's time
we stopped playing games, Walter."
"I wasn't playing any games, Alex. I just didn't want you to think
all I cared about was your body." Walter looked away a moment, and
Alex was lost to him forever. "I don't think of you as just a piece
of meat."
"Oh, please think of me that way. Yes, I'm meat!" They both laughed
at Alex's exuberant joke, and Alex took advantage of the unguarded
moment to jump on Walter and kiss him. Walter responded in kind,
wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling him down in his arms. They
kissed, Alex impressed that Walter could make out and breathe at the
same time. He thought he was the only one who could do that.
They kissed on the couch, hands exploring chests and backs and
bottoms, learning the landscape. It wasn't until Walter unbuttoned
Alex's pants and slipped his hand down the back to Alex's crack.
Alex reared up a little. "Hey, baby, calm down, what's wrong?"
Alex wiped his mouth and cleared his throat, obviously stalling for
time. Walter stroked Alex's cheek gently and Alex thanked all the
gods he could think of for such a patient man.
"I've never...you know..."
Walter continued stroking his cheek and gave a soft smile. "If you
want to do something else...it's OK, I don't...
"No!" Alex cleared his throat quickly. "I mean, yes, I want to do
that. I want you to be my first. I just wanted you to know that
you're the first."
It shocked Alex that he was so open to this man he'd only had two
previous dates with. And it was the truth; he'd never given his ass
to anyone. He was happy to top all the little twinks he picked up in
bars. Usually, he didn't even leave the club with them. He would be
all too happy to get a blowjob, or an offered ass in the back.
With another kiss, Walter said, "I am honored to be your first. And
I'll make it good. Just be aware, I'm big."
"Oh, thank God!" Alex said and dove onto Walter again. He only
pulled away long enough to get his Henley over his head and then back
to Walter's mouth. He unbuttoned Walter's shirt and slid it down the
strong, wide shoulders. He pulled away and said, "I knew those
shirts were hiding a delectable body."
Walter's laughter was a welcome sound. He pushed Alex away and
said, "I've seen most of your apartment. Maybe you should show me
the bedroom."
Alex, not leaving anything to chance, got up and walked his guest
into his simple bedroom, with one night table, one dresser, and one
Queen-sized bed. Simplicity was key for Alex, and it was evident in
his furnishings. He held his hand out and said, "The bedroom.
Bathroom we passed, you can see that later. Wanna see the sheets?"
In almost a tackle motion, Walter took Alex down to the bed, and the
clothes started coming off being tossed about. As new flesh was
revealed, hips, buttocks, thighs, Alex needed to taste every bit of
Walter's body. Alex was always an oral lover, and he would prove to
Walter that his blowjobs were a religious experience. "Christ
almighty, Alex!" he shouted, as the head of his cock slipped down
Alex's throat.
Alex tried not to smile as he concentrated on his work, trying to
make it the most exciting experience for Walter. The hand that
played with the massive balls in their sack strayed down to the tight
pucker, causing Walter to sit up quickly. "Only one finger, Alex.
It's been a long time for me," he admitted, then lay back on the
hunter green comforter.
Alex took care to wet his finger thoroughly as he explored his
lover's hole. His lover. He could easily fall deeper in love with
Walter. And he desperately hoped Walter would fall in love with
him. Especially when Walter took over, rolled Alex onto his own back
and began to orally torture him, using his teeth, tongue and lips to
make sure that Alex wore a mark or two in a few discreet places.
When finally, Alex lay on his side, leg pulled high in the air by a
long, golden-honey arm, lubed thoroughly, with Walter's condom-
sheathed cock sliding in and out of him, he knew it was where he was
meant to be. Later he would ask Walter why he chose that position
for their first time, as opposed to facing each other. Walter was
succinct in saying; "My first time having a man inside me was a
private moment for me, really. I wasn't raised with tolerance for
gay men, so to be breached seemed that the last vestige of being
a 'real man' was gone and I needed to handle that without my lover
staring at me. I wanted to give you that same respect."
At the moment, all Alex truly wanted was to kiss his lover. He
turned as much as he could, not being double-jointed, and reached for
Walter. After some maneuvering, both men were curled around each
other, never separating, nor even slowing down from where they were
joined. Alex was impressed with Walter's stamina, even being in a
virgin hole. Alex stroked his own cock in time with the thrusts and
when he felt Walter hit the magical spot, he jerked almost dislodging
the huge cock from his ass.
"Shit, Walter, do that again, please!" he begged as he stroked
harder. He knew he was close, and a few more jabs on this prostate
were all it took. "One more, yes!" Alex spilled over onto his hand,
shooting a little come onto his belly. A few more thrusts into the
spasming ass and Walter was shooting as well, both men gasping. Alex
turned and took Walter's mouth is a fate-sealing kiss, so they rode
out their pleasure connected, a complete circle joined. After a quick
clean up, aided by Alex thinking ahead with tissues and a waste
basket near the bed, they lay together curled up, as if they had done
it for ages.
Back in Pittsburgh, Alex lay curled in the same position, crying in
the early morning light, face buried in his pillow, chanting,
"Walter...Walter...Walter..."
He didn't notice the other voice at first, but when Debbie sat beside
him to stroke his hair and try to pull him into her arms, he went
freely, accepting, for the first time in his life, a mother's pure
love. "It's all right, Angel. I'm here. I've got you. You're
safe, Angel. You're safe, now."
Debbie was tired, but it didn't seem right to leave Lex alone his
first night out of the hospital. Despite spending hours out of the
last three days with the boy, Debbie still didn't know much about
Lex. He had given them a last name. Arntzen... he did not look
like an Arntzen, but Debbie wasn't going to pry. There was a sad look
in those beautiful eyes. Life had kicked him hard. Debbie knew about
that all too well, although she never let it keep her down for
long.
If she could have found Lex's Walter, Debbie would have given him a
piece of
her mind. Hearing poor Lex calling for his lover had broken her
heart. People
were such asses. They let the most trivial things separate them from
the people
they should care about. Whatever had happened between this Walter and
Lex, it
shouldn't have been enough to drive Lex away like this.
Debbie knew a running man and Lex was one.
"You have to sleep, Angel; you have to rest and heal," Debbie said,
her hands
carding through the shining brown hair she had washed for him earlier
that
day.
"Wha... what's in it for you?" Lex asked, stiffening a little in
her arms.
"I have no money. I can't work right now. I have nothing."
"No, Angel, that's not true. You have me," Debbie said. "And
everyone, all my
family and friends."
"Why?" Lex asked. "You don't even know me."
"I know you. You're my green-eyed angel," Debbie crooned.
Lex's little nose grew a tiny wrinkle as if he was trying hard to
understand
her. Debbie said, "Honey, you flew right out of the dark into my arms
like a
wounded bird. That wouldn't have happened unless there was a purpose.
You just
have to accept that sometimes people can care about you. They don't
have to
have a reason."
With a tired sigh, Lex settled back into her arms. He looked at
Debbie with
that hungry look she knew too well. Brian had looked like that when
he watched
her with Michael. That was one of the reasons why she never banned
her son's
best friend from her home, even when he did things she felt were
intolerable.
It wasn't just because Michael loved Brian. It was because she knew
there was a
needy child inside the tough exterior. Lex looked even more adrift.
Testing a little, Debbie said, "Your own mother must be missing you."
"Dead," Lex said, "I don't even remember her. She was murdered when I
was
little."
"Oh, I am so sorry," Debbie said. "It must have been hard for your
father to
raise you on his own."
"Yeah, real hard, too hard," Lex said. "He threw the towel in when I
was five.
Dumped me on the state. Bastard promised me he would be back, but he
hardly
even visited me. Stopped entirely after the first year. "
"Oh, Angel, I am sorry," Debbie said.
"It's not your fault," Lex said. "You've done better by me than my
own family.
When I'm better, I'll pay you back somehow."
"Don't worry about it, honey," Debbie said, but she was glad that he
was proud.
Proud, she knew. It had kept her going when her natural optimism
failed.
Lex blinked. His eyes were rolling closed. Debbie noted that his
eyelashes were
even longer than Michael's. Amazing. Debbie always thought that her
son's eyes
were his best features, big, soulful brown eyes with long black
lashes. Lex had
lovely eyes, but he was almost pretty where her son was cute. They
both had
tiny upturned noses. Maybe that was what had her maternal juices
flowing.
Almost reluctantly, Debbie lowered Lex's head back to the pillow. Vic
poked his
head in and said, "You want me to keep watch? You have to work
tomorrow."
"In a little while," Debbie said. "I just want to sit with him until
I'm sure
he will sleep."
"Sure, Sis," Vic said. "But, honey, don't get too attached. This
kid's in
trouble. Trust me. I know trouble."
"So do I", Debbie said inside, "but it never stopped me from caring."
"I know that too," Vic said.
As Vic gently closed the door, Debbie tucked the blanket more
securely around
Lex. Maybe she couldn't heal all the pain he had already been
through, but she
meant to take care of him. She would be his shelter from the storm.
The world was pain. It was nothing new. What was new was that there
were people
here who gave a fuck, not because anyone was watching them, not
because they
were being paid to care, not even because anyone was going to put
them on a
pedestal for doing it. Alex was wary. He was waiting for it. Waiting
for them
to reveal their true motives.
Now, it was Brian. Brian was the pretty one, as pretty as Alex. He
walked into
the room as if spotlights shone on him. "I can't believe you talked
me into
this."
"Honey, Vic has his group. The store kept Michael late doing
inventory. Ted is
working on an audit. As for Emmett, I have no idea where he's gotten
himself
off to," Debbie said.
"At least, he's getting off somewhere. Unlike me," Brian said,
flopping into
the rocking chair with a petulant grimace. "Just remember, I don't do
bed
pans."
Ouch! Alex smirked as he saw Debbie twist Brian's ear.
"You be nice," Debbie said. "You never know when you might need a
friend."
As the door shut, Brian said, "Fuck. Why do I let her do that to me?"
"Look, you don't need to stay. I'm not a baby. I'm all right alone,"
Alex said.
Picking up a comic book, Brian said, "Yeah, yeah, don't I know that
song.
You're a tough bitch. You don't need anyone, right?"
"You have no idea," Alex said. Right now, his ass hurt so bad that he
could
have killed Brian for looking at him.
"You needed someone when Debbie picked your naked body up off the
street,"
Brian said, "And when Tekumi made sure no one looked too deeply into
who you
are."
"What makes you think I'm hiding something?" Alex asked.
"You can't lie to a liar," Brian said, putting down the comic
book. "I actually
looked forward to talking to you alone, Lex. I just want you to know
that if
you hurt Debbie or Michael or even Ted, I'm going to make you regret
it."
Stupid ass...
Alex had no intention of hurting them. Nor, as a fresh wave of pain
ran through
him, was he likely to have the opportunity. Inching up by force of
will, as his
strained and bruised muscles screamed out his agony, Alex kept his
eye on the
glass of water and the little gold bottle of pain pills on the table.
He could
feel sweat soaking the tee shirt and boxers Michael had loaned him.
"Ah, shit, if you break any of those stitches, Deb's going to kill
me," Brian
said.
Smoothly, competently, Brian propped Alex's head higher, slipped the
pill into
his mouth, and gave him a drink of water to wash it down. A moment
later, Brian
mopped away the sweat and straightened Alex's bedding.
"I'll give you this. You're a tough bastard," Brian said.
As far as Alex was concerned, Brian had missed his calling. Spender
would have
loved to recruit this ruthless young man. Maybe Alex would drop the
old man a
line.
How the hell did he come to this?
Just a few months ago, Alex had the world by the tail. He had made it
into the
FBI. He had aced his way through the academy and he had the most
wonderful
lover in the world.
After years of being a nobody, the kid who slept in the extra room,
the honor
student who couldn't afford to pay for a yearbook or a tux for the
prom, Alex
expected that he would show them all who he was.
About the only bump in the road was that Alex wasn't going to be able
to rub it
into his father's face. He remembered when he was still young and
stupid enough
to believe that his father was coming back. He lived his week in
anticipation
of seeing his Dad. He would tremble in the back seat of some social
worker's
cheap car, race into the dingy room with the dumb clown or puppy
pictures on
the wall, the broken toys and crayon covered books, to hope that this
time Dad
would come.
Dad visited, at first, looking guilty and haggard. Sometimes, he
smelled of
booze, the familiar odor making Alex feel a little sick. Dad would
bring a
small toy sometimes and would mention relatives Alex didn't remember.
Dad told
Alex one of those people with the funny Russian names would open
their home to
him and Alex believed him. He would live with them and soon Dad would
live
there too. No more foster homes, no more social workers. Alex would
be just a
regular kid.
Soon enough, Dad missed every other visit. Then Alex would be lucky
if Dad made
one visit a month. He believed the excuses even when the cool voice
of the
social worker questioned Dad's words.
And, finally, when there were no more visits, Alex lied to himself.
Dad was
away earning money. He would return with a nice car, new clothes, and
Alex
would go home with him.
Alex was an old man of ten before he figured it out. That was after
he ran
away, not once but many times from his best foster home. He had to
run because
it was too easy to call them Mom and Dad, to pretend his foster
brothers and
sisters were really related. When he heard the foster father and
mother talking
to the social worker about adoption, his traitor heart had leaped.
That night
he dreamed that Dad came back and found out that he let himself be
adopted. Dad
walked away and Alex knew his Dad would have nothing more to live
for. Dad had
said that once. "Alex, after your Mom died, you were my life. You
were all that
I had. We have to stick together, you and I."
Being adopted wasn't sticking together.
Leaving all his nice new clothes behind along with the cool toys and
the clean
bed, Alex ran.
When they brought him back, Alex ran again. He ran until the day that
they
didn't return him to the Arntzen family. They locked him up in a home
for boys.
Alex figured it out then. He promised not to run again, but the
Arntzens had
new kids. There was no room for him even if Mama Cindy cried when she
came to
tell him.
Alex never had a good foster home after that. He had a reputation
that took
years to live down. When he realized his only way out was to work
hard in
school and to follow the rules in his foster homes, he was already a
teenager.
Then that one home caught him kissing another boy from school. They
had kicked
him out and there were social workers all over him, convinced he was
a victim
of abuse. Finally, one kind soul had asked him if he was gay.
Alex had to ask what that meant, but when he understood, he knew that
he was.
He liked girls. They were all right, but boys were the ones he
imagined. He
didn't even know what guys could do together. He just imagined
kissing and
touching when he let himself dream and play with himself.
It was another long road to push that one kiss far back in his
record. By high
school, Alex was an honor student and a jock. He made sure he was
seen with
pretty girls and never hung out with students the other guys said
were gay.
Alex had decided on a career by then. He was going to be an FBI agent
like Papa
Don, Cindy's husband. Once Papa Don told him that part of his job was
finding
missing people. Alex had asked him if he could find his dad. Papa Don
had
looked sad and said that was against the rules. Alex had asked his
foster
father if his computers could have found Alex's father. Papa Don said,
"Maybe."
"I'll be an FBI agent then," Alex said. "and the first case I solve
will be
finding my Dad."
Papa Don had laughed, but Alex had made it through. He had solved the
mystery
of his father's disappearance. All it took was an unsupervised hour
on a FBI
computer at the academy. "Vladimir Krycek had died of a combination of
cirrhosis of the liver and exposure. His body was found curled up in
a dumpster
in New York ."
All that time, Alex was running away, rejecting his only chance of
having a
normal family, his father was dead. Dead and still fucking up Alex's
life.
Pretty ironic that Alex had nearly ended his life in a dumpster, too.
Ironic.
Irony sucks.
Life sucks, Alex thought.
However Alex must have said it aloud because Brian Kinney looked at
him and
laughed. He said, "You and me both, brother, but getting sucked makes
it nearly
all worth living."
The way Brian looked at him for a moment made Alex feel less like
worthless
garbage. Brian wasn't Walter, but Alex could look at him and imagine
that he
could forget what those bastards had done to him.
Maybe. Just maybe.
But right now, Alex was floating away on a pain pill haze. He'd think
about
Brian later.
Michael sat at the kitchen table, eating lunch with his mother,
before her
shift at the diner. "This is just ridiculous, Mom. We know nothing
about him.
He could rob you fucking blind and you'd never know it! You're just
in love
with him."
"I thought Lex had the green fuckin' eyes around here. Yours are
showing."
She stood and started to clear the dishes of leftover lasagna.
"I am not jealous, Mom. I'm just saying that..."
"You are too jealous, Michael. And how can he rob me blind? He
can't even
take a shit, for Christ's sake! He needs help. And how do you know
that he's
bad?" She stood in her kitchen, hands on her hips, staring at him
the way she
did throughout his life, whether he'd brought home a bad grade or was
caught
kissing a boy in his room.
"Mom, come on. Look at him! Why was he hustling in the first
place? That
should be your first tip off." No matter how old he got, Michael
knew that
when he argued, he always sounded like a bratty child. He couldn't
help it; it
was just the way it was.
"I don't ask those kinds of questions, Michael. What I do know is
that boy's
nursing a pretty bad broken heart. I also know he didn't try to
hustle Ted,
although that would have been a better fuckin' trick. He asked me
why I gave
shit about him. I didn't really know what to tell him, Michael. But
I know if
you were ever that bad off, I'd hope someone's mother would be this
fuckin'
nice to you, and care for you."
"I wouldn't get in this position in the first fucking place, Mom, now
would I?"
he said, standing to stomp from the room.
"Oh, you never went home with someone to their place? Sure you
have. What if
it all looked innocent, and that guy had some fuckin' shithead creep
waiting to
plow your asshole back out through the other end the way they did to
Lex, huh?
I don't know if you looked, Michael, but that boy has twice the
muscle you do,
and look what they did to him. And the bruises on his hands and
forearms, the
doctor said he put up a helluva fight."
Michael looked at the faded beige linoleum floor of the kitchen. She
was right.
"He was not expecting that. And the doctor also said that he had
treated
hustlers before, and Lex was not a hustler. That's why they were
able to use
those collagen stitches so he doesn't have to have them removed.
They'll just
dissolve into his skin, the poor baby. Give him some dignity back."
"I guess..."
"Stop fuckin' guessing and do! Go up there and talk to him. Get to
know him.
Hell, Brian's up there, probably got the boy to tell him the dirtiest
stories
by now."
"Yeah, I know." Reluctantly, Michael went to his mother and pressed
a kiss to
her careworn cheek. She smiled at him.
"Get the fuck out of here, you little shit," she said, mussing his
hair. Yeah,
she loved him dearly.
Brian sat in the rocking chair, reading a comic book when Michael
walked in.
Brian looked up at his friend and smiled. "Hey, baby, gonna keep me
'come'-pany?"
Michael held his finger to his lips. "Shhh! He's sleeping," Michael
whispered.
"He's sleeping with Prince Percocet. You couldn't wake him if you
blew him."
Brian looked evilly up at Michael. "Let's get a peek at his package."
"We've seen his package! The night we found him, stupid." Michael
took a step
toward the bed to try and thwart any movements made by Brian.
"Well, yes, but it was cold and there's that shrivel factor to keep
in mind.
Besides, he was moaning for 'Walter' again. I'll bet he's sporting
wood."
"Touch me and you die, twink," came the gravelly response from the
prone form
on the bed.
Both men smiled as Lex gingerly rolled away from them and pulled the
covers up
over his shoulder.
"He's got your number, Brian. I just came to hang a little. I have a
two-to-ten shift at the store. God, I hate that place." Michael
made a sickly
face.
"Think of it this way, Mikey, maybe one day, you'll be manager,"
Brian said,
wiseassed as always.
Lex sat up and winced, but not as strongly as before. He looked at
the two
friends as they talked. "Either fuck or suck or do something.
Entertain
me."
Both men looked at each other and grimaced. Michael walked toward
the door and
stated, "I have to get to work, guys, I'll see you tonight, Lex."
"Later, Mike," Lex said with a wave.
Brian sat back in the rocking chair and looked down at Lex. The man
looked
like he was feeling better. He'd slept only about an hour, but it
seemed to do
him good.
"So, how can I entertain you?" Brian purred. Oh, yes, he was a
pretty man,
just the way Brian liked them. Brian liked anyone and everyone, so
it wasn't a
far stretch. And he sure as hell wanted the newbie, wanted him
against the
wall, in bed, on the floor, over a couch...It would be a long time
before that
happened. The kid was hurt and hurt bad.
"Hey, pretty boy, help me up. I gotta move around. I can't lay in
bed
forever." Lex was trying to get up on his own. Brian, like a flash,
was out
of the chair and next to Lex, trying to help him. He understood
ignoring the
doctor's orders and knowing what your body needed. He went to hold
Alex by the
waist, and his wrist was caught in an iron grip. "Let me let you
know, had I
not been cold cocked from behind, I would most likely have been
disposing of
two bodies. I may be hurt, but I'd rip my ass open to defend
myself. Don't
make me, yeah?"
Brian laughed. "You're safe. I may not be too picky about who I
fuck, but
I'll only fuck the willing. All that struggling musses my hair."
The two men looked into each other's eyes, green into hazel. Brian
softened
first. He wasn't scared of Lex, not really. He was concerned he
would
accidentally do something that would set Lex off. He was confident,
though,
that Lex would see it as a mistake and not a misstep.
"So, where am I taking you?" Brian asked, as he secured Lex in an
upright
position.
"The head. I wanna piss like a man, standing up. You know how hard
it is to
shake off in that little bottle?" Lex said, cracking a smile.
"Ooh, can this be our first date?" He heard Lex snort a laugh and
was relieved
the man was becoming comfortable. They made slow progress and Brian
stood
behind Lex, but not watching.
When Lex was done, he gave Brian a serious look. "Our first date
will be much
better than water sports in my mom's bathroom."
Brian was a little taken aback by Lex's statement. Yes, he wanted
the man, but
a real first date wasn't necessary. Hell, it wasn't even necessary
for Lex
to bottom, either. Brian would happily bend over for his new
friend. Yeah,
Lex was a friend. He'd already taken to Debbie, and she didn't just
give away
her affections easily. Lex called her his mom. She must have
touched a nerve
in the man, as well.
After Lex had washed his hands, Brian asked, "Now where to,
handsome?" He
figured, continue the light-hearted play until the man said stop.
"How about a TV? I'm bored stiff in that room," he said.
"How stiff, baby?" Brian asked, smiling. Lex glared back. "Alright,
I'll
stop. For now."
Lex shook his head and allowed Brian to help him down the stairs. To
his own
surprise, Brian helped Lex sit carefully, propped his feet up on the
coffee
table and even got him a glass of Debbie's diet soda. He sat with
his own diet
soda and they watched horrible daytime TV. Lex admitted he'd never
watched the
court shows nor the talk shows. He particularly liked the way
everyone swore
at each other and started fights.
Brian just watched Lex for a while, until he dozed off.
Debbie walked into the house and saw the two young men she had left
in the
bedroom asleep in her living room, television still on. They both
looked like
little boys when they slept, with all the stress, pain and worry of
their lives
wiped away. No matter what they've done, no matter who's hurt them,
it all
disappears.
She went to the kitchen and left the dinner she'd brought for them on
the
stove. Lex had clear broth, chicken, turkey and beef, and Jell-o,
red and
orange. She put the cold stuff in the fridge and began writing a
note for them
on the white board. As she walked back to the door to get back to
the diner,
Lex sat up and groaned. She turned quickly and said, "Hey, Angel,
you're
up!"
A big smile plastered on her face, covering her concern for him, she
went over
and kissed his brow.
"Hi, Deb. Aren't you supposed to be at the diner?" he asked, rubbing
his eyes
like a little boy. Debbie mussed his long, silky hair and smiled.
"Knowing Brian, he can't cook you what you need, and I thought I'd
take a break
and bring you boys some dinner. There's clear broth for you and Jell-
o. I
left a burger for Prince Useless. Make sure you two don't stay up
all night.
I'll be late, OK?"
Lex smiled up at her. "I may not wait up for you, depending on how I
feel.
But I'll try."
"If you need sleep, Angel, you just get it, OK, baby?"
"Want to make sure you get home safe" he said with a yawn, then put
his head
back down to sleep.
Debbie pulled the blanket back up to his shoulders, noting that the
house was a
bit cold, and took the extra afghan to lay across Brian. She placed
a soft
hand on his head and left the boys to sleep.
After another week of trying to get these people to realize he was
getting
better in leaps and bounds, and not taking anymore pain pills, Alex
was taken
for his last doctor's appointment. He was pronounced mostly healed.
He had
been allowed to have pureed baby food fruit so that he would have
soft bowel
movements for the first few days. He was cautioned not to have any
anal
intercourse at all for another month. He snorted at that last
instruction.
"Alex," the doctor said, sitting on his stool so that Alex's head was
above
his. "I'm not suggesting anything about your attack. I am giving
you an
instruction. You're a young, healthy, virile man. And you are very
handsome,
so I imagine you have an active social life. Lay off your ass. How
is your
counseling going?"
Another derisive snort. "You declined counseling? Why? What
happened to you
is no different than what happens to a woman. And you would never
want to see
your..."
"Look! I'm not some woman who was almost killed. I'm fine. I can
take care
of myself. I'll be a lot more careful about who I go home with, and
where I
go. OK? I'm a trained..." and he stopped there. He wasn't a
trained FBI
agent anymore. And Quantico taught him how to help a victim, not how
to be
one.
It was one of the things that helped him dismiss the nightmares
quickly,
chanting his training. "Not my fault, they can't hurt me anymore. I
know
better. I didn't deserve this. I'm better than this. J. Edgar
Fucking Hoover
said so. He was gay as blazes, too. Not my fault. Not my fault."
It was how he could sit there, look the doctor in the eye and tell
him he would
be fine. And it was how he knew the next time he came, it would be
in someone
else's ass.
With a handshake and smile, Alex walked out of the doctor's office
where Debbie
and Michael waited for him. "How did you do, Angel?"
"Clean bill of health, my ass is ready for action!" he said, making
Debbie
laugh and Michael roll his eyes.
They got into Michael's car and started back for the house. "So what
are your
plans now that you're better?" she asked. Alex could hear a little
slip of
sadness in her voice. The lady was nice, and he was a little
attached himself.
He didn't want to go.
"I was gonna talk to you about that. I mean, you've done so much for
me, the
only way I can think to pay you back...can I work off my tab at the
diner?"
Alex watched Michael's huge eyes in the rear view mirror as he
considered
Alex's request.
"Angel, what we did for you..."
"Yeah, but I'm not anyone. I wasn't...I mean, I can't just let you
go through
all that and not give back, OK? I can bus tables, clean up, little
things that
no one wants to do, I don't care. I...I mean..."
"What, baby?" she asked, turning in the seat towards him.
"I've got no where to go. If I work, I've got a roof, right?" He
knew he was
pathetic. He knew he was a disgrace to the Arntzens as it was; he
didn't need
to disgust himself. But he was close to begging. And he didn't care
what that
prissy bitch Michael thought about him. He had no clue how great his
mom
really was.
"Angel, so long as I have a roof, so do you. You can start tomorrow,
first
thing in the morning with me. Shift starts at seven."
The whole way home, Alex was ecstatic. He had a purpose and he had a
goal. He
had a rough estimate in his head of what he owed. If he would get
paid minimum
wage, he'd be able to pay Debbie back in a few months. Alex wasn't
sure he
would be able to get used to all the people in the diner seeing his
face, but
maybe he could get Debbie to color his hair blonde or something.
Back at the house, Debbie went to her room, and as soon as her door
was closed,
Michael cornered Alex. "Look, you...you...whatever you are. If you
hurt my
mother, in any way, I'll kill you myself. You got me?"
Alex smiled and decided he needed to loosen up this tight-assed boy.
Maybe
literally. He leaned in and kissed Michael deeply, pressing his
tongue through
the pouty, delicious mouth. Michael didn't kiss back, but he didn't
pull away
either. Alex held his face gently and let the kiss just fade away.
Michael
was slow to open his eyes.
"I'll treat your mother as if she was my own. I'd cut my arm off
before I'd
hurt her. And I'd kill anyone who did hurt her." Alex's voice was
soft, but
he was serious. Michael's eyes flashed with fear for a moment, then
he saw
what Alex figured Debbie saw. And Brian saw. Michael gave a little
smile and
nodded. Alex figured what the hell and kissed him again. This time
Michael
kissed back.
"Got to get my head together," Alex told himself. Last night's
flirtation with
Michael had been amusing and resulted in the first stirring of little
Alex
since . . .
No, Alex didn't want to even think about it. He wasn't going there.
His aches
and pains were all back suddenly and he tossed in the bed until he
heard Debbie
stirring in the kitchen. Slowly, he got out of bed and stiffly walked
to the
bathroom. He had chosen an old shirt of Brian's and blue jeans
purchased by
Debbie at a rummage sale to wear.
Walter would have laughed himself sick. Alex peeled off the sweats he
wore to
bed and hung them behind the door. He couldn't remember the last time
he wore
pajamas. Even in the academy, he had slept in boxers. At his
apartment, he had
slept nude. Now, he wasn't happy unless he was layered in clothing
and tightly
wrapped in his blankets. Yeah, he knew what it was all about, but
that didn't
stop him from the need to keep a barrier between his body and the
world.
Running the water, Alex grabbed a washcloth and jumped into the
shower,
shutting his eyes as he shampooed his hair and bathed as quickly as
he could.
Even drying off, he didn't want to look at himself. He hated his
body. It had
failed him. After all the training, everything he had learned to make
sure that
no one ever hurt him again, his body had punked out. He had been
raped. His
body had been used against his will as Spender had twisted and used
his mind.
Ah, shit.
No tears.
Alex would not weep.
A few moments later, Alex emerged from the bathroom, his face
expressionless.
He passed Michael in the hall. He stared him up and down with studied
arrogance
until Michael blushed and hurried away. Yeah, that was better.
Coming into the kitchen, Alex sniffed. Waffles. Not the kind that
Mulder had in
his fridge either, that one time he had driven him to work. These
were freshly
made, smelling sweet and buttery. Alex's stomach growled suddenly.
Debbie turned, a bottle of syrup in one hand and a jar of honey in
the other,
and smiled at him. "Which do you like, Angel?"
"Honey," Alex said, reaching for the jar.
"Sweet, just like you," Debbie said. "Are you sure you feel well
enough to come
to work today?"
"Yeah," Alex said. "I can work. I feel fine."
"Your eyes look tired, Angel," Debbie said. "I know you're still not
sleeping
well."
"I'm fine," Alex said. "It'll be good to have something to do. I was
bored."
"Okay, but if you get tired, you need to go have a lie down," Debbie
ordered.
"Yes, Mom," Alex said. He was teasing, but maybe he wasn't. She
reminded him of
Mrs. Arntzen.
Mrs. Arntzen had been plump like Debbie although her hair had been
dark. She
had worn it in long braids that she had woven into a pretty bun when
she went
out. When Alex tried to imagine his mother, the closest thing he
could get to
her was Mrs. Arntzen. Mrs. Arntzen had cooked breakfast nearly every
morning
too, steaming hot breakfasts very unlike the generic cereals and
reconstituted
milk that he had been served at most of his foster homes.
"Can I get something?" Alex asked.
"Sure, sweetie, get the orange juice," Debbie said.
Alex lifted the pitcher off the first shelf. It wasn't fresh squeezed
like
Walter liked, but it smelled good too or maybe he was just hungry.
His appetite
hadn't come back even after the doctors said he could eat real food
again. Now,
he was starved. He hastened to pull the chair out for Debbie,
accepting her
smile in tribute.
"This all looks great," Alex said.
Michael arrived, dressed in his white shirt and dark slacks for work.
At least
someone dressed worse than little Agent Krycek. Michael
said, "Waffles? When
was the last time you made ME waffles?"
"Today," Debbie said, pointing toward a plate. "Sorry. No happy face
today. Out
of bacon."
"Mom," Michael protested, but he sat down and pulled his plate toward
him
promptly.
Dribbling honey over his waffle, Alex smirked at Michael. Michael
rolled his
eyes and said, "Lex, you are a spoiled brat!"
"Takes one to know one," Alex shot back, comfortable here. All too
comfortable
in Debbie's house.
The diner was hopping. People came and went, mostly men, mostly in
pairs, but
there were women too, including a ditzy blond earth mother type who
introduced
herself as a school mate of Michael and Brian's. The food was okay,
but Alex
was pretty sure that the food was not the attraction. As was his way,
he
watched closely and came to a silent conclusion. Debbie was the four
star
attraction. She either knew everyone or made everyone feel as if she
did. She
joked, cajoled, babied, bullied, and carried the world not on her
shoulders,
but on her hip like a beloved child.
Debbie rarely let her mask slip. Once or twice, Alex saw her slump in
a chair
for a moment, her weary feet propped on a box. He said nothing, but
worked
harder to anticipate what she would need or how he could save her a
trip or
two. If he smiled and looked pretty, the customers didn't mind his
inexpert
service when he poured them coffee or served them a slice of pie. As
a matter
of fact, coffee and dessert orders increased by a landside by the
second day of
Alex's work.
Amused, Alex flirted, staying behind his mask, making sure that his
arrival in
this enclave was a footnote to the greater story of how sexy, how
powerful, how
in control he was. He swaggered when he walked back into the kitchen
with their
dirty dishes, a prince of the universe in disguise as a peasant. Tips
were
bigger when he found a reason to bend low near tables, wiggling his
sweet ass
as he picked up a fallen utensil or a stray napkin. As always, he was
good at
what he did. That was how he survived.
The third day of work, Emmett and Ted waved him over. They were
sitting with
Tekumi Eto, who smiled at him warmly and patted the seat.
"I'm still not buying any," Alex reminded. He had put up with
Tekumi's efforts
to draw him out as long as he thought it was required in order for
that
hospital bill to be paid. When Tekumi had told him that it wasn't
obligatory to
have the counseling to accept the charity, Alex had snarled at him and
dismissed him. If he had wounds, he preferred to lick them in private.
"I told you I didn't need counseling," Alex said, keeping his eye on
Debbie's
expression.
"I heard you weren't sleeping well," Tekumi said.
"Yeah, well, I needed to get my ass in gear and have a reason to be
tired,"
Alex said.
"Whatever works for you," Tekumi said, agreeably.
The guy was likable, at least compared to the FBI shrinks and
Spender's lab
geeks whom Alex always thought wanted to pull his brain out and
vivisect it.
Still, Alex didn't have the luxury of exposing all those soft and
vulnerable
places. It was better to form scar tissue to protect him from further
pain.
Debbie watched Lex stalk away from her little scheme. Damn, she had
thought he
might fall for the help in a social guise. Brian had said that Tekumi
could
draw anyone out, even him. Shit, now that was someone who had skill.
Brian was
as deeply guarded as the Pentagon.
"Angel, you should take a break, walk outside with Tekumi. He wants
to help
you," Debbie said, her hand softly holding Lex's arm.
"Debbie, don't ask me for things I can't deliver. I appreciate your
help," Lex
said, "but that's not happening. I can deal with what happened.
Believe me. I'm
handling it."
"Yeah, and that's why you end up screaming and crying every night?"
Debbie
challenged.
"I'm taking a break," Lex said, his arm stiffening beneath her
grip. "Going out
for a walk."
"Lex," Debbie said.
"I'll be back," Lex said. He shrugged on the black leather jacket
that Brian
had donated and walked out the back door.
Damn.
Debbie knew Lex was hurting, but he wouldn't talk about it. His
refusal to let
Tekumi help was just a symptom. He flirted with everyone, seemed to
need to be
reassured that he was beautiful and sexy, but Debbie knew that Lex
wasn't
sexually active yet. Not a big deal for most people, although none of
her boys
seemed to go more than a day or so without at least trying to get
laid. Lex
acted like a tomcat on the prowl, but he wasn't delivering; Debbie
had caught
that as the subject of conversation between Michael and Brian just
yesterday.
She had given them a piece of her mind for bitching about that, but
it worried
the hell out of her. Watching her boys gave her an accurate picture
of how
often they had or thought about having sex. Pretty much every day,
around the
clock.
Lex seemed to be going through the motions, but Debbie knew he was
hurting. Why
was it so hard for some people to accept help?
Snowflakes hit his face the moment Alex stepped out into the alley
behind the
diner. He gathered the lapels of Brian's leather jacket closer and
cautiously
looked around. Emmett had said there was a creepy looking guy staring
at Alex
the other day. When Alex looked, he hadn't seen anyone, but he had
that itchy
feeling between his shoulder blades like someone was drawing a bead
on him.
Emmett had typically described the guy only as silver, but definitely
not a
fox. Then he had added that the guy had a big nose so maybe he had a
big cock
too.
It sounded enough like the guy who had almost killed Alex to chill
him to the
bone. Crap, Alex wanted to run back to Debbie's and huddle under the
bed. The
son of a bitch had broken him; Alex knew he could beat the fear, but
it was
still so pervasive, so overwhelming that his stomach churned and his
legs went
weak at the very thought of that bastard.
Walking faster, Alex fought the useless adrenaline that sped through
his body.
He needed to kill the bastards. He had to find them and kill them
then the fear
would be gone. Then he would be in control again. How many times when
he was a
kid had he sworn that no one would make his decisions when he grew
up? No more
social workers doing 'what's best for you, Alex'. No more foster
parents
sanctimoniously trying to pretend that they weren't dumping him 'We
just aren't
the ones who can help you, Alex'.
When was Debbie going to say that? Soon, no doubt.
Pissed at her in advance, Alex took the key she had given him and
tossed it
into the street. A moment later, he bent to pick it up. As he did,
the distinct
sound of a bullet whirred over his head. He saw the flash, but not
the shooter.
He had instinctively reached for the gun that should have been in a
holster in
his shoulder, but he wasn't an FBI agent now. He wasn't even one of
Spender's
hired goons. He was a fucking rabbit and it was hunting season.
The key clutched in his hand, Alex ducked and weaved his way back to
the diner.
He made his way into the diner and went to work, bussing dirty dishes
back to
the already laden sink. He hoped everyone thought his quiet demeanor
was
embarrassment at his earlier tantrum. He needed a weapon. He could
guess who
the man was who took a shot at him. Next time, he might not be alone.
It would
kill him if a shot meant for him hit Debbie instead.
"Angel, you look so pale," Debbie said. "You should go home and lie
down."
"I'm all right," Alex said. "Hey, would it be all right if I kept
some of my
tips? There are a few things I'm going to need."
"Sure, baby," Debbie said. "Don't worry about it. You're doing the
work of two
men."
On impulse, Alex put his arms around her and hugged her hard. He was
wrong.
Debbie was different from most of his foster parents. She was
someone special.
And no one was going to hurt her if he could help it.
Not even himself.
When Lex walked back into the diner, Debbie knew something was
wrong. He'd
left through the front door, and reentered the back. She knew there
were
several yards and fences he'd have to get past in order to accomplish
what he
did. As he hung the jacket on his peg, Debbie saw the sweat-soaked
fringe of
hair at the nape of his neck. And he was shaking. It was a minute
shaking,
but still, he had a good scare when he was outside.
When Lex brought the dishes into the back, she walked over and
said, "Angel,
sweetie, come with me into the store room? I need some supplies for
the
front."
Turning as if he weren't expecting anyone behind him, Lex looked at
her and
then smiled. He followed her into the storeroom looking around at
the neatly
stacked shelves and racks. When Debbie closed the door, she watched
Lex spin
around and stare at her with wide, frightened eyes. Then the easy,
flirty
smile she'd grown to enjoy came across his face as he walked up to
her. "You
know, I always did like chubby redheads, Deb. You wanna see if you
can make me
a switch hitter?"
Part Three
With a strong slap to his arm, Debbie smiled and let out one of her
raspy, throaty laughs. "Fuckin' comedian, huh? I wanna talk to you,
Lex. What happened outside?"
He looked back at her with a cocked head. She wasn't buying
it. "You walked in here white as a sheet and sweating like a pig.
Something happened and I wanna know what."
Smiling, he slipped his arms around her shoulders and hugged
her. "Deb, there was like this kid, and he almost got hit by a car
and I like, just got scared."
Bullshit. She knew it was total bullshit. And she didn't like being
lied to. "You know, you little fucker..." She pulled back and saw a
fleeting moment of terror in his emerald eyes, and then he blinked
back to his cool suave self. "You don't have to lie to me, Angel. I
just wanted to know why you looked like you saw...did you see the men
who hurt you?"
The easy smile faltered a little, but was back with a
vengeance. "Nah, not that. I'm OK, Deb. I promise. Kay?"
She let him place a kiss on her head and give her a tight hug. "You
ever lie to me again, I'll kick your fuckin' ass! Cute as it is."
With that, Debbie left Lex in the storeroom. She hoped he'd wash his
face in the sink and get on with his shift. It seemed that Lex liked
to bury himself in his work, and he worked very hard. And of course,
Lex did bury his head in work. He wiggled his ass, washed his jeans
every night and put them in the drier on high so they'd be tight as
hell in the morning to get better tips. He wasn't afraid to get on
his hands and knees with Lysol and a scrub brush to clean the john,
either. She respected the kid. He wasn't afraid of hard work.
It would be his payoff in the long run.
What the fuck was he going to do? He had to leave and soon. He knew
that he didn't have close to what he should to pay back Debbie, but
if he stayed any longer, it would be a disaster. And Alex did not
want to play fast and loose with the lives of his friends.
On the other hand, he didn't have any money to be on the run with.
He'd need to get a new identity, passport, and airfare to Hong Kong.
That's where the DAT tape was. That's where he could make money
without selling his ass. Anything not to have to do that. He wasn't
up to it. He wasn't having active nightmares anymore, but sometimes
they'd start to get dark, and he'd think about Walter, pull him into
the dream, and Walter would make it better. A trick he'd read about
in the library in a book about dreams and controlling them. It
helped him to get a full night's sleep and he was a much better flirt
when he wasn't dragging.
Debbie was a great boss. He worked off the books and she let him
keep his tips, so he had money. It just wasn't enough. And short of
robbing her, which was out of the question, it would take weeks to
get enough for the new papers, much less a ticket to Hong Kong.
It was about a week later that Brian, Michael, Emmett and Teddy swept
into the diner, all laughing and joking. Alex sauntered by and
stopped, asking, "Coffee and the usual, guys?"
"Oh, and more than that, sweetie," Emmett drawled.
Alex looked on, intrigued. Brian sat back and smiled. "I've made
full time at my firm since graduation. I just closed my first solo
account and I'm having a house warming at the loft. You're invited.
Wear little."
Alex snickered and said, "Thanks, I appreciate that. I'll be there.
When?"
"Saturday night, of course," he supplied, looking Alex over like he
was a menu. The biggest surprise was that Alex didn't feel odd at the
visual appraisal from Brian. It was the opposite, in fact. He felt
a hot rush through his loins, and thought he would be on the verge of
embarrassing himself. Then thought better and knew he would get
bigger tips, and let his imagination run riot at the sight in his
mind's eye of Brian on all fours, pistoning in and out of his
body. Of course, everyone noticed. And there were several phone
numbers left at every table for Alex that shift.
When Saturday arrived, Alex took his impressive tip money, and bought
his party outfit. Leather pants from a vintage store, something akin
to what Jim Morrison was always photographed wearing, in chocolate
brown. He found some low boots to match, buttery soft. He was lucky
to find lightly used things so cheap, in his size. The shirt he
bought was new, an emerald, satin, tight T-shirt that showed the
state of arousal of his nipples.
He showered and shaved again that evening, dousing with just enough
cologne, and adding a new product to his hair that Emmett had
suggested. The texturizer in his wet hair gave it the slick look of
gel and not the fixed helmet, so his hair would move and still look
great. God bless, Emmett. When he got to the first floor, Debbie
and Vic looked him over. They had been invited as well, but
declined, realizing it was a party for the younger ones, and sent
their good wishes and gifts on with Michael.
Ted and Emmett waited in Ted's car out front for him, and Alex
couldn't wait to see what Emmett was wearing. As it turned out, gold
lame was the theme of the night, complete with sunglasses to match.
Alex always joked he wasn't "that kind of fag" who could decorate a
room or redo someone's wardrobe. That was Emmett. Usually,
flamboyance wasn't his thing, but something about Emmett was
pure and sweet, and that made him smile, thankful he knew the man.
Ted was different.
Remembering back to the night he met the man, and thinking he was the
one Alex should have gone home with, Ted was a friend you could
always count on. He would always make time to drive Alex to the
doctor, or to go on shopping trips for Debbie and Vic. Ted was
probably the most reliable person Alex had met since...he wasn't
going to think about his past. They gave him away just like
everyone else, and Ted did, too. Right to those men who...was he
going to relive every shitty thing that had happened in his life that
night? Or was he going to grab a beer, get silly, dance and maybe
get laid that night? The latter sounded better in his head.
Brian's apartment was the top floor of a warehouse-type set of loft
apartments. The industrial elevator was a nice touch. The huge iron
door on rolling runners gave it charm. The brick walls and wood
floors were so New York in their simple, unfinished presentation.
Yet, if Alex knew Brian the way he thought he did, there would be
many coats of clear polyurethane on both before he was settled in
properly.
When the three men walked in, the party had already started and was a
third of the way toward its goal: a massive orgy. There were men
everywhere, all in various states of dress. Alex decided to tuck
himself into a corner with a beer and just watch. Most everyone was
satisfied with dancing and making out. Brian was a master of
ceremonies, keeping things from getting completely out of
hand. He stopped by to see Alex a few times, garnering hugs and even
a kiss at one point before flitting off to make the rounds and see to
the comfort all of his guests. Alex enjoyed watching the show.
Throughout the night, several men had made their way over to Alex to
talk, ask to dance and more, and usually politely shot down. Brian
had wondered if Lex was having a good time or not, until he asked Lex
to dance, and surprisingly got an agreement. Brian led Lex out onto
the floor and they danced like two wild spirits. Lex hadn't even
been to Babylon yet, but that was next. If the man danced all the
time the way he was dancing at that moment, he would be a sought
after property at Babylon. If he was ready. And the way he was
rubbing against Brian, he was ready. Brian would even bottom.
They danced through a few numbers until a few of the guests got very
friendly, starting the orgy. Brian grabbed onto Lex, intending to
pull him toward the action, but noticed that Lex looked rather
reluctant. It was a small price to pay breaking up the action to
keep his potential lover calm. "Let me go and break these pussies up
and I'll get some good wine out."
He pressed a soft kiss to Lex's neck, getting rewarded with a smile
and a playful growl. Brian was fast, efficient and kicked everyone
to the curb, slamming his heavy door shut behind them. He poured two
glasses of his best red wine, having stashed it way in the back under
the sink for the party. He had enough booze out for those guys. Lex
was something entirely different.
Lex, it seemed, was in the same mood as Brian, and they sipped their
wine demurely for a few minutes before beginning to devour each
other. It was animalistic, almost vicious the way Lex fought his
clothes off him, until they were both completely naked and lying in
Brian's wide, platform bed. Lex, then, became very gentle as if a
switch was thrown.
Lex's hands were gentle, sliding over Brian's chest and belly, his
mouth following not far behind, licking, tasting, teasing the flesh
it passed. Brian shocked himself at how easily he allowed Lex to top
him, to haul his legs up and feel the hot, slick tongue flick behind
his balls and trail down to his ass. His secret weakness, rimming.
It turned him into a loose slut, and this time was no different.
He was only half aware as Lex knelt up above him, rolled on the
condom, greased them both and started working his way in. "Yeah, oh
God, yeah Lex, fuck me."
Lex started slowly, teasing Brian, which was something Brian wasn't
really good at with his partners yet. But Lex was older than him, by
a good five years at least. And Lex did something that Brian rarely
did; he bent over and lay on Brian's chest to start kissing him. The
thrusting tempo rose, as did the pitch of Brian's whines. Lex
continued to kiss him, hushing him, and Brian felt Lex's cock shift
inside him. It started hitting the spot, that magic spot, the
most wonderful spot in the world. He suddenly wondered why he rarely
bottomed, as Lex's cock battered his prostate. Brian jerked and
moved, bucked and moaned until with a kiss on his neck and a bite on
his earlobe, Brian came, spurting come between their bodies and
thoroughly shocking himself that he came without touching his own
cock. Lex followed right behind, filling the condom sheathing
him and slowing to lie across Brian's chest as they both worked to
regain their
breaths.
Brian barely noticed Lex roll off to dump the condom and wipe them up
with tissues. Soon, the man was back beside him, and Brian got a
good look. The waifish thinness of Lex's body had filled in, and he
was thick, strong and lush. His ass was even more delicious than
when he first ran into their lives. Brian rolled onto his side and
propped his head up on his hand. He looked Lex up and down and
said, "So, who were you running away from when you came to the
Pitts?"
Alex felt his muscles tense at the question. He moved away from Brian
and stared at the opposite wall. "You don't want to know that, pretty
boy."
Brian snorted, probably objecting to the description. "Maybe I could
help?"
"Forget about it," Alex said. "I mean that. Once I'm gone, you need
to forget you ever knew me."
"You aren't going to hang around?" Brian asked, sounding disappointed.
"No, if I can figure out how to make some money, I'd be out of here
already," Alex said.
Glancing at Brian, Alex was relieved to see that his friend was going
to let his history drop.
"You know the way you like shaking your thing at the diner for tips,
you're missing the obvious," Brian drawled.
"Yeah?" Alex asked. "I don't do porn or hooking."
"You like to dance, sweet thing," Brian said. "Why not do it for
money? I know a man . . ."
Alex did like to dance. He couldn't say that he was a great dancer.
He thought of himself as somewhat clumsy except when he was fighting.
When he was fighting for his life, his body knew what the hell to do.
Still, from what he remembered of his one visit to Babylon, you
didn't have to be Baryshnikov as long as you were sexy. Sexy, Alex
could do.
Pouncing on Brian, Alex decided to show his gratitude in a way Brian
would appreciate. Grinning down at the sexy, pouting face, Alex
purred, "Let's dance. Let's dance right here. If you're up to it,
little boy."
"Oh, I'm up to it," Brian replied, hooking a leg to get Lex under him.
There was a moment when instinct started to kick in and then Alex was
able to tell himself that it was just Brian. Relaxing, he stared up
at Brian, trusting him almost as much . . . well, not to go there.
Lowering his face, Brian teased Alex's nipple erect. "You taste damn
good," Brian growled.
Brian's hair was wet with sweat. The smell of sex was still heavy in
the air, not yet grown unpleasant, just heating the atmosphere for
them. Tongue lapping at his belly, hand insinuating between his legs,
Brian was performing for him, teasing him. A light touch beneath him
and Alex warned, "Brian, I'm not ready for that."
"Yeah, just a finger," Brian said.
Thinking about it, Alex tried to relax. He used to enjoy that even
before he let Walter take his ass. Thick with lube, the finger gently
pressed him open as Brian let him slide deep into his throat. It was
all right, better than all right. With a groan, Alex forgot all about
his fears, losing himself in the expert blowjob. Brian teased him,
flicking his tongue lightly over him when Alex started to shudder
with impending orgasm, backing away, grinning as Alex arched toward
him.
"You better finish it," Alex threatened.
"Maybe," Brian teased.
"Now," Alex bullied, pulling Brian's head toward him.
Heat enveloped him, Brian dropping his tease to deliver what Alex
wanted, taking him deep, his hands almost bruising Alex as they
gripped his hips, head moving with rapid, eager jerks until Alex felt
the top of his head blow off with his second orgasm of the night.
Moments later, Alex returned the favor, giving Brian as good as he
gave. This time he let Brian come in his mouth, wonderful intimate
blending of flesh and soul as that was. They fell asleep together in
the ravaged bedding, naked limbs entangled, Alex's foot dangling over
the bed nearly to the floor. Brian's hand rested tenderly on Alex's
ass, reminding him again of Walter.
There wouldn't be much more of this, Alex reminded himself. He had to
leave soon. If he cared about these people at all, he had to get away.
Brian's loft was deserted when Alex woke. Shit, he couldn't believe
that he had slept through Brian getting dressed and going to work. He
yawned and stretched. The loft smelled of liquor, sex, and coffee.
The coffee part was good. His clothing was piled on a chair along
with clean underwear that must have been Brian's. Nice. Thoughtful.
He must have been really good last night, as those words normally
didn't describe Brian Kinney.
Stumbling to the coffee machine, Alex poured a cup, closing his eyes
as he let the rich brew seep into his body. He needed a shower. He
stunk of sex. His body still felt sensitized, ready for more. His
morning erection bobbed hopefully, but he had no intention of
satisfying it.
The shower was great in Brian's bathroom. There was plenty of room
for two in there, but Alex was glad Brian had not tried to wake him.
He needed to be alone with his thoughts. Most of them were good ones.
He was glad to be alive again. He felt as if some of his missing
pieces were back. Brian had been the antidote to the fear that had
been stalking him.
The beautiful, and self-centered, young man wasn't going to be the
love of Alex's life. Alex smirked as he dried himself. Brian Kinney
was the great love of his own life. He'd never be the kind of lover
that Walter had been, but Alex didn't want that anymore. He knew he
didn't, no matter what the wounded creature inside of him said.
Catching a glimpse of himself in the steamy mirror, Alex didn't like
what he saw. His eyes were huge, desperate, frightened. He had to do
better than that. He refused to be a victim. Spender was the last
person who was going to lead him around on a leash. If Alex couldn't
be one of the good guys, at least, he was going to be a top rat. No
more Spender jerking him by the balls.
Debbie knew that Lex had spent the night at Brian's. If nothing else,
she could tell by Michael's sullen face. There were times when she
felt like dragging her son and Brian into a room and ordering them
not to come out until they had fucked all the unresolved lust out of
them.
The only thing stopping her was fear that Michael's tender heart
would be broken beyond repair. Brian was someone special to her son,
not a fact that pleased her. She cared about Brian, but he was a lot
like a beautiful Siamese cat she had when she was a girl. The cat
demanded its food, would tolerate an occasional touch, but if she
tried to pick it up or cuddle it, she would wear its marks for the
next week. Brian didn't want a relationship. He wanted conquests,
assuring him that he was the most beautiful, filling the empty
places left by his good-for-nothing parents in his flawed heart.
"You left early," Lex said, his tone purring and teasing.
"I had an evening shift," Michael said, spooning more brown sugar
onto his oatmeal.
"Whatever," Lex said, his voice sounding smugly amused.
Debbie sighed. Maybe Brian was what Lex needed, but she didn't need
another Brian on her hands. She admitted she preferred Lex as a waif.
The wounded kitten was lovable. This Lex was someone new and she
didn't know if she liked him at all.
Eyes softer, Lex turned to Debbie and said, "I have to leave early
today. Brian is going to set me up with an audition at Babylon. I
need to get some money together. There's a business opportunity I
need to get to."
"Dancing?" Debbie said. "Lex? Are you really up to that?"
"I'm all better," Lex assured, his chin ducking low and his eyes
veiled with those enviable lashes.
"I didn't mean physically," Debbie said. She didn't think shaking his
wares in front of all those horny guys was good for the boy.
"Deb, I never was who you thought I was," Lex said, his voice
dropping to a husky note that was very distracting even for a Debbie
in mother-mode.
"Angel, I'm not sure you are who you think you are," Debbie
replied. "You can pretend things don't bother you, but I know better."
The smile that crossed Lex's lips was odd. He shook his head,
refusing to discuss it further. He said, "I'll come back after I
finish and clean the kitchen to satisfy the meanest Marine NCO in
Parris Island. Just leave the mess. You can count on me."
"Thanks, sweetie," Debbie said, but she had no intention of leaving
the work for Lex. Although right now, she felt as if the day's work
was going to be accomplished with a four-ton elephant riding on her
shoulders.
Kissing Michael, Debbie said, "You tell that boss of yours that your
mother is going to have a word with him if he calls you back for a
day shift after a swing shift. It's not fair."
"Yes, Mother," Michael said.
Kissing Lex too, Debbie said, "I'll see you later."
With limited resources for costuming, Alex had chosen a pair of black
denim jeans, a skimpy black muscle shirt, and the worn, but well
fitting boots he had found at the AIDS benefit rummage. Debbie had
dragged him to it. Mulder would have laughed himself sick to see Alex
pretending to enjoy rummaging through everything from sequined drag
queen dresses to leather daddy chaps. It had surprised the hell out
of him to find the designer boots made of supple black leather. They
even fit his rather large feet.
"Looking good," Brian said, eying Alex with a hungry gaze.
Damn, Alex had heard that Brian hardly ever did repeat fucks. One to
a customer and don't expect to spend the night unless you were good
enough to be on the morning menu. The way he was looking at Alex,
though, suggested that he was considering dragging him off to the
infamous back room instead of to the manager's office.
Jerking his chin toward the office, Alex said, "Come on. I have to
get back to the diner in time to clean the kitchen. I promised Deb."
"What? She have you by the cock ring?" Brian sneered. "Come on, Lex.
Let's see you shake it. Bud's a sleezeball, but he pays you. And the
tips...they're great. If you're good."
Bud had a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a God-damned Morley
cigarette, at that. Alex disliked him on sight for that. Bud wore an
off-purple suit, a black shirt, and enough diamond rings to open a
branch jewelry store.
Looking Alex up and down, Bud said, "He's got the looks, but it takes
more than that, before you dance here. It's not just eye candy. It's
attitude. You got to have it smoldering. Make them think they want it
so bad that they can taste it. Can you do that, kid?"
"Watch me," Alex said, but he wasn't feeling as confident as he
sounded.
The music started, a sexy techno beat that Alex normally would have
enjoyed. He tried to forget that Bud was watching him, but the image
that came into his mind was worse. He could see Agent Scully watching
him with one Spock-like eyebrow raised as he gyrated. He felt
exposed, clumsy, and what he intended to be sexy pelvic thrusts came
off like someone's moronic cocker spaniel humping the air.
Bud's laugh was derisive. "Yeah, pretty, but I wouldn't even let you
dance near the stage, much less on it. Brian, you're losing your
touch, bringing me this."
"Wait a second," Brian said.
Gripping Alex's face lightly, Brian kissed his lips. "You try again,
Lex. I want you to think about me looking at you. Just me. You're in
my bedroom. I'm waiting for you in bed, stroking my hard cock, but
you're teasing. You're giving me a show. Come on, lover. Show it to
me."
Alex needed that money. Brian's idea was good, but not quite the
trick.
Closing his eyes, Alex thought about dancing for Walter. His hands
became those of his lover, exploring him, worshipping him, pinching
his nipples erect, stroking down his ribs, teasing along his belly
before they came to rest on Alex's ass. Gasping, Alex opened his
eyes, but all he could see was Walter. Walter's brown eyes devouring
him, making him feel beautiful, wanted, infinitely desirable.
Alex's body came alive. No one was in the room but Walter and he
wanted to make his lover desire him. He wanted to make Walter come
with the mere sight of him dancing. He knew he was hard. He knew what
he must look like; sweat glistening on his face, his belly exposed by
his . . . Walter's hand exploring his heated flesh. The music ended
as Alex thrust into the air, imagining the one time he had fucked
Walter.
Panting, Alex looked at Bud.
"Okay, if you can do it like that out there, it's yours," Bud
said. "You want to come into my private office to talk about it?"
Brian grabbed Alex and said, "He can talk to you later. Right now, we
have some business . . . in the back room."
There were no lights in the diner when Alex arrived. Alex moved
toward the kitchen. Debbie slumped on a chair, staring dispiritedly
at a mop bucket. "Hi, Angel, I meant to have this all done. My get up
and go has got up and gone."
"Don't worry, Mom," Alex said, "I said I would do it."
"Did you get the job, hon?" Debbie asked.
"Yes, I danced tonight. Got a hundred dollars in tips in half an
hour. I'm going to be dancing every night from now on, but don't
worry. I'll still clean up for you," Alex said. He pulled up a crate
for Debbie's feet. "You just rest and watch me work."
"I can do that," Debbie said. "I guess I get my own floor show,
sweetie."
"Yes," Alex said, shaking his ass for her. Man, Michael had no idea
how lucky he was! He had a Mom who accepted him, had a raunchy sense
of humor, cooked like a dream, and cared like hell.
Trudging out with the garbage, Alex looked around warily. He knew
that the men who had raped him were watching the diner. Each day he
remained was pushing his none too reliable luck. He saw nothing so
pried open the rusty dumpster lid with a plastic gloved hand.
Wrinkling his often-kissed nose, Alex aimed the sack at the opening.
The damn thing slipped.
"Fuck," Alex said. He bent to scoop half eaten sandwiches and greasy
paper napkins back in the bag. His hand encountered something hard.
Metal. Expecting to see a can lid, Alex sighed and grabbed for it. A
badge. A fucking badge with a crust of blood smeared across it. His
heart pounding, Alex sank to the ground. He remembered. He remembered
being lifted, hearing laughter.
Someone's voice said, "We wore the bitch out."
The man who had first picked him up said, "I told you that you'd like
it."
Alex remembered his hand closing around something that had been lying
on the floor. It had felt cold in his hand. He remembered the remains
of the FBI agent that he had been telling him to hold onto it. It was
evidence that might convict his murderer if he did not survive this
ordeal.
Then Alex had been dumped in the bag.
Alex knew more than ever he had to get the hell out of here. His
assailants had been cops, wolves set to watch sheep.
When he went back inside, Debbie asked, "Angel, you okay? You're pale
again."
"Don't worry," Alex said. "I'm just tired."
Debbie insisted on staying until he had finished cleaning.
Alex made sure to stay between his friend and the street the entire
way home.
Tomorrow, Alex had to make more in tips. He had to have enough for
fake ID and a plane ticket to Hong Kong and he had to have it soon.
The cheapest ticket price Alex could find, using Brian's computer was
still logging in at almost nine hundred dollars. Between tips and
wages at the diner, Alex had been able to give Debbie seven hundred
dollars to date. He felt he owed her more, but he didn't want to pay
her back by getting her shot. Dancing at Babylon for two days had
netted him half of the money he needed. He thought he could get the
rest by the end of the week.
One of the other guys, a honey blond who looked barely legal age said
there were ways to get around the 'no contact' rule. After your legal
turn in the cage, you could dance with the customers. Nothing was to
stop you from picking only the customers who would tuck a twenty or
better in your waistband for a close dance.
It wasn't how Alex imagined his life going. He had always been picky
about who touched him, but this was life and death. He wasn't ready
to die.
It turned out Alex had a good nose for money. He had zeroed in on an
older guy, a burly type who looked a bit like Walter. The guy had
kid's pictures in his wallet for God's sake. He had even shown them
to Alex when he bought him a drink. Alex had noted the Alaska
driver's license and figured the guy was in the city for a
convention, a good time, some wild oats, and then would be
returning to some drab small town life with a meek little wife. It
wouldn't hurt Alex to sell him a fantasy for a few bucks.
Well, the guy wanted more, but even if the man resembled his lover,
Alex wasn't going to take any chances. His one attempt to sell his
ass had ended in nearly losing it. This guy was going to have to take
the painful looking hard-on home with someone else.
Amused, Alex watched Emmett cut the balding stud from the herd and
expertly lead him out. Good enough to take home, Emmett seemed to
think. Well, Alex hoped it was good for both of them. Emmett probably
would give Mr. Alaska the wild ride of his life.
Pulling the bill that the out of towner had tucked in his waistband
out, Alex did a double take. The tourist had given him a hundred
dollars for a tease and a hand on his ass. With everything else, Alex
had made, this put him close enough to his ticket price for Step
Number Two.
Alex was going to have to deal with Geraldine Kallenchuk.
Shit.
You might say that Geraldine was a past indiscretion. A big one.
Alex had met her in high school and the relationship continued into
college. At the time, he saw her as a beard, an amusing cover up for
his truer preferences. She was an inventive, aggressive lover, who
quickly figured out that Alex liked the boys as much as she did. She
was perfectly willing to cruise for a bi guy who wanted a threesome
and didn't mind being topped by the two of them.
At the time, Geraldine had made him laugh. He ignored her methods of
getting ahead, seducing and blackmailing professors, buying and
selling test answers, dealing a little on the side. When she had
returned to Hong Kong to the family business, he didn't find it as
funny to discover she belonged to one of the most powerful crime
families in Hong Kong. He had planned to spend the summer with her
before starting his master's program, but when Geraldine's father sat
him down to ask him if he intended to marry into the business,
telling him that his career in law enforcement was okay with him, he
was spooked. They could use an FBI agent in their pocket, he'd said.
Shit, Alex had almost squeaked like a frightened mouse and decided he
could better spend the summer, earning money as a commercial security
officer.
Since that time, Alex had spoken to Geraldine only a handful of
times. He hadn't told her about Spender or his recent problems with
him, but now. Now, he needed her help badly. She had the means to buy
him a new identity. He had meant to earn enough money for a fake
passport and his ticket out of town, but things were heating up. He
had been shot at again yesterday night and he had spotted a face that
looked like Thing One in the crowd. The cold gray eyes had stared at
him from the crowd, a cat looking at a wounded mouse before reeling
it back in to kill it.
A friend of Michael's was a computer nerd. The FCC didn't bother him
at all and he was happy as hell to help Alex put together a buffering
signal that would bounce his phone call through so many relays that
even Mulder's infamous Lone Gunmen couldn't have traced it.
"Geri, it's Alex," Alex said.
"How's your sweet ass, lamb chops?" Geri said.
"My sweet ass would be happier in Hong Kong. I need help, Geri, and
you owe me. You would have spent prom night in jail if I hadn't
managed to find out about that undercover narc before you sold to
him," Alex said.
"Gratitude might get you something, but that was a long time ago"
Geri said, "what have you done for me lately?"
"I'm onto something big," Alex said. "I'm not with the bureau anymore
and I . . . I was working for some people who deal in secrets. Once I
sell what I have, I can pay you back double. I need a passport."
"As in a passport in someone's else's name?" Geri asked. "What did
you do, Alex? I thought you were the squeaky clean one?"
"Things happened," Alex said. "I don't want explain right now. Will
you help me?"
"I might, but if you've got something good, I want more out of the
deal than a
few thousand bucks of pocket money. You want my help? Then whatever
you have, I have. We're partners. Capisce?"
Thinking fast, Alex couldn't figure a way out of Geri's trap. He did
need help and she was a natural born criminal. Despite his fall from
grace, Alex still knew more about being an FBI agent than he knew
about being a thug. Accepting her lead, Alex said, "Yeah, we're
partners. Send the passport to me here. There's a post office box,
Ted Schmidt, PO BOX 69101, Pittsburgh, PA, Zip code 15201, USA. Send
the passport there. Soon. I need it soon."
"You're going to need to send me a picture, Alex, I can't just whip
out my crayons and draw one," Geri said.
"I'll send it. Same E-Mail address?" Alex asked.
"Still the same," Geri said, "I have to keep those dollars rolling in
for my e-mail scam business."
"I'll send it now," Alex said, as he logged onto the Internet to send
the picture.
As soon as the message was transmitted, the geek and Alex dismantled
the equipment and disconnected the telephone line. The office that a
friend of a friend had been cleaning would be a dead end if the
message was traced and the e-mail address that Alex had used only
existed for long enough to send the picture. Now, Alex would have to
wait for few more days and see what would happen.
On the way back to Debbie's, Alex stepped into a payphone. It was
late on a Saturday. Even an employee as devoted as Walter Skinner
should be home by now on a weekend.
"Walter Skinner," the familiar voice said wearily.
Alex closed his eyes, happy to hear Walter's voice. He wanted to say
something, anything to see if any part of Walter still harbored
affection for him, but his throat closed.
"Hello? Who the hell is this?" Walter said. Then speaking away from
the phone, Skinner said, "It's either one of your informants with
stage fright or I have a prank call, Mulder."
Mulder? What was Mulder doing at Walter's? Jealousy shot through
Alex. Was he that replaceable? Did Walter just like to fuck his
subordinates?
"You have one minute to speak," Walter said. "And if this is a prank
call, you picked the wrong man. I'm a federal agent."
"Wrong number," Alex croaked, thinking his voice was unrecognizable,
even to himself.
"Don't hang up!" Walter shouted. "Where are you? God damn it! Answer
me!"
"What's Mulder doing there?" Alex asked.
"Working on a case," Walter answered, as if Alex still had a right to
know. "Do you need help?"
Alex could hear Mulder's voice in the background, but he listened to
Walter until his lover said, "You should have come to me. You still
could. You bastard..."
Alex listened for a moment longer, wanting to believe that Walter was
concerned about him even after that debacle in the stairway. Hanging
up, Alex ran as if the phone call was pursuing him. That was the
stupidest thing he had done since he fell for Spender's entrapment.
Her angel was growing distant. Debbie saw him watching things
constantly, his eyes dark with wariness. He was hurting, but there
was nothing she could do to comfort Lex. He was closing up around his
wounds, looking more and more like a
trapped animal.
Michael said that Lex was acting like a slut at the club, not quite
whoring himself, but teasing men into giving him outrageous tips in
the hope that they could rent a piece of him. Even Brian had
suggested that Lex tone it down, but Angel wasn't listening. He said
he could protect himself. Apparently, he could. Michael said that
someone had tried to use force to make Lex deliver what his dancing
seemed to promise, following him outside and trying to compel him into
the alley. It had taken Michael, Brian, and the two football
fullbacks that Brian was bringing home to peel Lex off his shaken
pursuer.
Debbie had learned not to touch Lex without warning. She
said, "Angel, can I sit with you for a while?"
Looking up at her, Lex had patted the couch next to him. "Angel,
you're working too hard. Between the diner and the dancing, you
hardly sleep. I don't know what's keeping you on your feet."
"Fear," Lex said. "Nothing but pure, unvarnished adrenaline and fear."
If Brian had been speaking or Michael, that would have been a joke,
but Lex sounded like he meant it. Michael had been antsy again,
saying, "We don't really know Lex, Mom. I think he's trouble."
What could Debbie say? She knew her son was right, but her heart
still went out to Lex. He might be a dangerous man, but there was a
lost little boy inside of him.
"Why don't you lie down for a moment? Close your eyes and let Mom
take care of you?" Debbie asked, patting her ample lap.
As if he had been waiting for the invitation, Lex slid down with a
sigh. He closed his eyes, going as boneless as a cat in her lap.
Debbie petted his hair, her eyes memorizing his face. Michael accused
her of falling for every stray animal and waif that crossed her path.
He might be right, but Lex was different. She felt something special
for him. Maybe it was the way he fell into her arms when she found
him. She had saved his life. That meant something. Poor Lex. What was
going to happen to him?
Ted opened the postal box and sorted through the assortment of porn.
He finally found the stiff envelope with the Hong Kong postmark and
handed it to Alex.
"That it?" Ted said. "You're out of here."
"I'm out of here," Alex said. He looked into the sad brown eyes,
cupped Ted's face, and leaned close, kissing him. "I wish I had gone
home with you that night."
"Me too," said Ted.
"Someday the right guy's going to see you're pure gold," Alex
assured.
"Yeah," Ted said, not buying it. "I'll drive you to pick up your
things."
Alex's room was a mess. Someone had searched it. Well, if they were
looking for the badge, they were out of luck. Alex had climbed into
Michael's old tree house and planted the badge between the wall and
the roof.
"Shit, I have to leave now," Alex said. "You have to tell them all
goodbye for me, Ted."
"Deb's going to hate that," Ted remarked.
"She would hate it more if Michael got hurt, or Vic. And I would
rather die than see her hurt," Alex said. "Drive me to the airport.
I'm going to get a standby."
Ted nodded and helped him gather up the few things Alex would be
taking. Alex would miss this room. It had been a home to him and he
had a chance to have a family that he now realized would have been a
better one than the one he had been born into. He had been a fool to
turn down the Arntzens back when they wanted him. He had always made
the wrong choices. He hoped this was the right one.
Blinking back tears, Alex gripped the ragged duffle bag that Vic had
given him. It was time to move on.
Alex smiled with relief. Yeah, he was getting out of here. In a way,
he was glad that he had skipped the tearful farewells. This was
better. When he got together with Geraldine and the disc, he would
have the world by the balls. He planned to make a lot of money,
selling the old men's secrets. Maybe he'd drop Mulder a few crumbs
for old time's sake.
There was more than one way to fight a war and Alex knew that he was
in a war now. His side was any side that opposed Spender. Somehow, he
would do what he could to keep Walter safe, even if it meant hurting
him himself. Walter was his knight and Alex would be his shield if he
could. His lover would never know, but that didn't matter. Walter had
to live. He was the center of Alex's world even if they would never
be together again.
One last thing to do . . .
Alex picked up the phone, dialing directly into the old bastard's
office. "Give me Spender."
The flunky of the month didn't bother pretending not to know who Alex
was talking about it. "He's just arrived."
"Let me talk to him," Alex said.
There was a murmur and then the hated voice said, "Hello?"
"I'm alive. Isn't that a surprise?" Alex spat out.
"Yes, good, good, where are you?" Spender asked.
As if...
Alex said, "Somewhere that you will never find me, you doublecrossing
son of a bitch."
"Are you sure?" Spender asked, managing to shoot menace into his
voice.
"I'm sure of this. If I so much as feel your presence, I'm going to
make you a very, very famous man. Do you understand?" Alex snarled
into the phone.
"Yes, thank you, I'm going to report that to the group,' Spender
replied, his voice steady, but Alex could hear the hint of
uncertainty. He had never been sure of his control of Alex, just as
Walter's unexpected resistance to him frustrated the old man.
Slamming the phone down, Alex ran to make the plane. He had a future
to catch.
The End
Wayfaring Stranger
by Ursula and Amazon X
Sitting there, buried in misery, Alex had blocked out his companions.
He was so out of it that he didn't even notice at first that they had
stopped, pulling into a convenience store parking lot. Cardinal and
the man that Alex only knew as Freddy got out of the car. Surprised,
Alex looked around, expecting that they were switching cars or
meeting someone to give them the DAT tape.
