Mirror Image
by Czara
Temptation beats
My Shangri-La
"Get him," Mulder ordered the soldier manning the device that was pulling Alex
in. The man set Mulder aside with a small grunt at being ordered about and bent
to help retrieve Alex. But he stopped suddenly, straightened, and turned a
surprised face to Mulder. "Get him," Mulder repeated impatiently.
The soldier flushed, opened his mouth, closed it again and let his eyes take in
Mulder's wet frame. "I...you're...beautiful," he finally managed. The two
other soldiers in the helicopter were too staring at Mulder with surprised
intensity.
"Dammit," Mulder hissed. "Help him in!"
The rope bearing Alex had reached high enough for Mulder to see Alex's hands,
and he surged forward to help his lover board, but the soldier who had helped
him in shoved him back. "I'll get him," he said huskily. He gestured to one of
the other men and between the two they hauled Alex in, flushing even more as
they were glared at by cat-like eyes.
"Jesus," the youngest whispered. His blue eyes were wide behind short black
lashes. "Jesus, what..."
"Shut up, Billings," the soldier nearest Mulder growled. His squat muscular
body was tense as his eyes returned again to the pretty, soaking man Stugger had
first pulled in. In all his years he had never, not once, been attracted to
another man. But this one...hell both of them made him immediately hard.
Achingly so. He pictured himself taking off the hazel-eyed beauty's wet shirt
and tonguing his nipples. "Sit down and don't get in our way," he growled. He
knew who these men were, but hadn't been told they were so...so gorgeous.
Mulder read the nametag on the man's camouflaged uniform, Fletcher. "Look,
Fletcher, we'll sit, but first tell me where the hell you came from?" Mulder
didn't trust the man within an inch of Alex. In fact he didn't trust any of
them. He could sense their desire, was even responding somewhat to it. And
that was something he didn't want to think of at all.
Alex put a hand to Mulder's arm. He wasn't ready for Mulder to know just who
had sent the aid. Of course he would find out soon enough, he mutely noted, but
perhaps he could think of some brilliant way to tell him during the short
flight. "Don't worry, baby, I know what's going on."
The soldiers visibly jerked back at the term of endearment. A lifetime of
hating homosexuals too ingrained for them to conceal. They got a lazy look
from the darker of the two men they had rescued, and to a man they all felt
their bodies tighten with strange desire.
"Oh, well that makes me feel so much more secure," Mulder quipped and sat on one
of the jump seats.
Fletcher groaned at how sweet and sexy the man looked with a pout on his full
lips. Lips that could only do one thing really well. He was startled to feel
himself trembling, imagining the task those lips were made for. And too, he was
startled by his desire to taste those lips, taste every inch of the man before
him. He tried to avert his gaze, knew that his team was likewise affected, and
he clenched his jaw tightly, painfully, to deny what he was feeling. Lust for
another man was not only totally new to him, it was, or should have been
completely abhorrent as well. But he didn't just want to taste those lips. His
eyes were drawn to the healthy bulge between Fox's thighs. He moistened his
lips in response to the hot urge to taste another man's cock. Hot and plump in
his mouth, slim hips bouncing up, and the slutty legs opening wide for him. He
looked into the hazel eyes, and knew that Fox was thinking the same thing. He
wanted it. Would probably purr with contentment as every last one of them took
him. Sucked him, fucked his ass and his wanton lips. He heard the youngest on
his team make a noise very much like a whimper, and he knew if Alex Krycek
weren't on the flight, they would already be giving Fox what he wanted.
"Put your damned necklace, medallion thing on, Fox," Alex snapped. He felt the
soldier's intensity, their near catatonic absorption in he and Mulder. When Fox
didn't immediately respond he pushed his own thigh up against Mulder's. "Put it
on. Now."
Mulder was unsure what Alex meant for a moment and then remembered the
medallions safely tucked away in his pocket. He fished for them, sensing Alex's
tension and looking at the stiff profile as Alex glared at their unlikely
saviors. He pulled one free and immediately handed it to Alex. The men were
looking far too interested in Alex for his own comfort. He couldn't blame them
really, for a wet Alex was one of his favorite views, but he wasn't likely to be
comfortable until Alex was not such an object of attention. Alex's eyes widened
as he was handed the medallion, and Fox sighed. "Put it on while I get the
other one out."
"Jesus," Alex grumbled. Of course Fox would totally ignore the large man
drooling over him. Of course he would insist that he put one on first. He
almost grabbed Fox's thick hair and pulled his head to his lap where he could
forcibly put the damned thing on him, but he cursed angrily, knowing he
wouldn't. He put it on quickly, knowing Fox Mulder was more stubborn than any
three men. The most expeditious way to get Fox to do what you wanted him to do
was, to instead, do exactly what Fox wanted to do. He saw a pleased smile
curve Fox's lips, and his quick look at the soldiers, to determine if the
medallion was working.
"Fox," he growled impatiently.
"I have it here," Fox said dryly. He put it around his neck with a sardonic
raising of his brows. "All safe and sound."
The soldiers were frowning now, no longer leaning forward intently, but to
Alex's disappointment their stares were still too interested for comfort.
"What are those things?" Fletcher demanded. He felt an irrational anger over
the pretty man putting on the necklace. Though of course everything he had felt
since the pretty was pulled on board was irrational. But he wanted to yank it
off the hazel-eyed beauty. He didn't quite dare even ponder taking the one
Krycek put on. He knew of him. Knew better than to try. But that pout was
still on those gorgeous lips, and he knew that something was taken away from the
beauty by the necklace. He reached out, hearing his men give small sounds of
agreement, knowing that they too wanted the strange necklace off.
"Don't"
It was just a whisper, but Fletcher heard Krycek's warning. He paused, tearing
his eyes away from Fox to meet the green eyes of the assassin. Eyes so thickly
fringed by black lashes they appeared to be painted with kohl. There was a
warning in those eyes that was so clear and deadly that he drew a quiet breath.
There was also eagerness in those eyes. The bastard really wants me to do it.
So he can rip my arm off, Fletcher told himself. He held his hand up to show
Krycek he was moving the offensive appendage away, and slowly settled his hand
back in his own lap. He looked once more at the pretty man beside the assassin
and wished anew that Krycek had not been with him. He groaned audibly,
imagining what he and his team would already be doing to him. And that damned
necklace would be thrown to the ground below.
But Krycek was just too damned dangerous. Even if he was far more beautiful
than Fletcher had ever realized. Men like Krycek were best dealt with from
afar, and even then only if you were really damned certain you could pull it
off.
Mulder cleared his throat, in discomfort. "So, where are we going?"
"Sacramento," Stugger said in a voice that was eager to please. The tone
apparently surprised him for he then promptly glared at Mulder.
"Why Sacramento?" Mulder asked. He leaned forward and tried to control his
curiosity. For some reason Alex had been able to set this up, and yet did not
really want Mulder to know how. He wanted to give Alex the chance to explain
himself, but the drive to know, the same drive that had fueled his entire
career, was ever-present. "Is there a base there that you..."
"Fox," Alex warned. "When we get there, I'll explain everything."
"I just asked why Sacramento. That isn't a state secret is it? Of course there
is no State anymore is there." Mulder had to look away from Alex as he asked
that. Alex was too distracting for him to think clearly. And that question had
led him to think of the possibility that though the State had not survived, no
State in the world had, perhaps the Consortium had. Alex had been involved with
them...could they still be working behind the scenes? And if so, were they
better than Murdoch and his loyal ascendants?
The helicopter, which had been heading south, veered east and sharply and then
after a few minutes turned back north. If they were going to Sacramento,
perhaps by appearing to go south, Skinner would be fooled. He could only hope
that he was. If he and Alex were to be together, they had to leave all the
others behind. It was the only way.
Alex didn't take his eyes off the soldiers. He knew Fox was burning up with
curiosity, and was rather surprised that he wasn't asking a dozen questions of
all the men and of him, but this conversation was something he needed to
concentrate on. Something he couldn't do while watching the soldiers as
intently as he needed to. "I know."
"He knows," Fox mumbled. "That settles a lot."
Alex moved a hand to Fox's thigh and squeezed gently, a silent apology. But he
didn't say anything.
Mulder moved his leg closer to Alex, responding to Alex's touch, knowing it for
what it was. Alex wanted him to be quiet. He smiled a bit realizing that Alex
was intent on watching the men who were quietly watching them. They had seemed
to settle down once the medallions were in place, and the young one had even
stopped eyeing Alex with the intensity that bordered on lunacy he had shown mere
moments before. The others had been stricken by whatever change had taken over
he and Alex, but had not shown as disturbing interest in his lover as the young
blue-eyed man. But if Alex wanted to keep his own counsel for the moment Fox
knew he would respect it. He took another look at Alex, noting the tension in
his body, which he suspected had nothing to do with the men in the chopper, but
everything to do with where they were going. Something Alex assumed Fox
wouldn't like. What could it be? He restrained himself and leaned back against
Alex.
"So," he finally said after five minutes of silence. "What do you think? Am I
going to be angry?"
Alex started, and looked at him. "Angry?"
Fox raised a brow at Alex's surprised tone, as if Alex were more surprised about
the pointed nature of the question than at the question itself. "So I am? Or
at least you think I am."
Alex ignored the silent, staring soldiers for the first time, to concentrate on
Fox. He raised a hand to Fox's face and briefly touched one brow, impressed and
not a little awed at the mind behind the pretty face. He lowered his hand and
took one of Fox's in a firm grip. "I think...well yes, maybe you will. If not
angry, then..." he stopped and looked away, frowning, throwing a glare at the
soldiers for being able to hear the conversation. "Disappointed. But you know
what I am, Fox! You know I'm not a choirboy. You know that I have contacts you
wouldn't approve of." He could hear the desperate defiance in his voice and
cursed silently. This was not the quiet, logical explanation that he had
intended, but Fox was simply staring at him, calmly. In the face of that stare,
so Mulder, so Agent Fox Mulder, Alex fell silent again and turned away.
"So that would be a definite yes," Fox finally said, smiling gently as Alex's
lips tightened. He squeezed Alex's shoulder. "You know, if we are going to
Sacramento, there is a base...McClellan Air Force Base. It was on one of the
lists to decommission and finally got axed in 1995, but it was still open when
this thing began. There will be all sorts of goodies there. Goodies someone
who wasn't a choirboy or had less than appetizing contacts might know how to
use. Goodies that might help us stay together and to stay safe."
Alex turned to stare into the eyes he loved. There was an irreverent grin on
Fox's lush lips. "Yeah, there would be," he murmured.
"Probably loads of guns...you like them right?"
"Proud member of the NRA." Alex grinned.
"Okay then," Fox sighed. "Let's just get there already."
Alex cleared his throat and launched into his second campaign to tell Fox that
he was soon to come face to face with Spender. "As I was explaining, I have
contacts...more like, well you might call them supervisors." His eyes widened a
bit, looking more like a little boy than an assassin. "Ex! Ex supervisors,
baby."
Fox was amused, but didn't dare show it. No matter what awaited him he would
smile at Alex and be grateful that they had a chance. That was all that
mattered. He wondered though why Alex was so nervous. It was Consortium no
doubt. Probably the cigarette smoking bastard. That was the one man who seemed
to have nine lives. The one man he could think of who had done more to wreck
havoc in his own life. Alex most certainly had worked for him. Who else could
have placed Alex as his partner so long ago? Who else? There were many
powerful men, and some women, Mulder could think of, but Spender was the name
that rang true to him.
"And I know...I know you will be shocked...yes even outraged," Alex was
continuing, working himself into a state Fox had never seen his lover in before.
Before, in the years that he had fought his attraction to Alex, when he had
leaped at the chance to question him, to accuse him of anything and everything,
Alex had tried to convince him of various things, sometimes even with passionate
intensity, but never had Alex previously really cared if he were believed.
Now, though he was very quiet, not wanting the other men to hear more than they
needed, he was desperate. "But if you can just believe that I would never make
a decision that would put you in harm's way...you would trust..."
"Alex, I do trust you. I don't care who you set this up with." He looked at
the soldiers again, and wished they would stop staring so intently. "I just
hope we can have some privacy when we arrive."
Alex frowned. Fox wouldn't be so understanding when that bastard Spender was
standing before him. But he couldn't say the name. What if Fox hated him for
his connection to him? He knew that Fox would have had to assume that he might
have had some access to the bastard who had done so much to disrupt his life,
but the fact that he worked for him...would that be too much? "When we arrive,
I'll make sure we have a lot of privacy," he said huskily.
The husk in his voice sank its hooks in Mulder's groin and he turned back to
Alex. "And the sheets?"
Alex tilted his head, and drew in his upper lip, before shaking his head. "The
sheets." He began to nod and then shook his head, thrown.
Fox bent close and brushed his lips against Alex's ear, "Leather sheets."
Alex felt an unfamiliar heat surge up over his cheeks, and he was further
disgruntled to hear his lover chuckle and whisper in his ear, "Why, Krycek, are
you blushing?"
He quickly pulled back and gave Fox a reproachful grimace. The mischievous look
in Fox's face softened the blow to his ego. "No. You just turn me on," he said
huskily.
"Oh, nice recovery, Alex. Very quick," Mulder purred, stroking Alex's thigh
with a caress that was becoming decidedly more interested with every stroke.
Alex wanted to devour that plump mouth. Wanted to taste Fox's tongue, wanted to
hold him close and feel the steady thrum of his heart. "I won't be quick
later," he promised. His lashes lowered, their dark sweep an ebony fan,
brushing his high cheekbones as he let his eyes roam over Fox's frame with
deceptive laziness.
"Enough," Fletcher barked out. "I don't care anymore what the deal is. Just
stop already." He had spoken out of desperation. Even though his mind had been
set on the medallion staring at it as it hung from its leather thong on Fox's
chest. Hating it, not knowing why. The two men's petting and cooing were
infuriating. Not for the reasons they would have been before he had met the
two...different men, but because they were what he had wanted to do with Fox.
And if he weren't rationally respectful of Krycek, what he would have wanted to
do with him as well. But if he had to watch Krycek and this Fox Mulder paw each
other any more he would surely have to draw his firearm and shoot them or
himself.
"Oh, sir, let them," Stugger said breathlessly.
Alex smiled at them both, and they were surprised by the smile's innocence. "Is
there a problem," he asked in a reasonable and calming tone. Fox himself was
surprised by Alex's cordiality, until he felt the well-honed muscles ready to
spring. Like a cat.
"Stop touching him," Fletcher demanded. His demand had nothing to do with a
possessive claim to Mulder, and everything to do with his tenuous claim on his
restraint.
Though Fox could claim a perfect visual memory he could not begin to recreate
the movements of Alex as he sprung on Fletcher and dragged him to the opening of
the helicopter. Fletcher wasn't even struggling as Alex held him half out of
the opening.
"Were you saying something?" Alex asked.
"Krycek, release him," Stugger demanded, leveling his firearm in Alex's
direction.
"He wants me to release you," Alex grinned. "What do you think?"
"Shut the fuck up, Stugger," Fletcher demanded. "Listen, Krycek, I'm sorry.
The boss said to bring you back and that is all I want to do. C'mon, I was out
of line! C'mon!"
"Tell me again what I can and cannot do with him. Please."
"No, I won't! Krycek, I know who you are! Spender values you for what you are!
I have no beef with you!"
Alex stiffened, knowing Fox had to hear those desperate words. He pulled
Fletcher in, let him stumble away, and moved toward the front of the helicopter,
unwilling to see the shocked realization in Fox's beautiful eyes.
"Tell the cargo, we will be landing in twenty minutes."
The voice of the pilot startled Mulder, and her choice of words caused a frown
to make its way over his features. "Cargo?" he grumbled.
"We'll be landing in twenty minutes," the young Billings repeated obediently, as
if the "cargo" themselves had not heard the announcement over the same intercom
he had.
Mulder leaned forward to see the terrain below. It was losing its lushness,
getting drier looking. Patches of brown were replacing ever more of the forest.
Vineyards sprawled below over acres and acres of sloping hills, replaced then by
vast agricultural fields that stretched as far as the eye could see. The
geometric precision that had been so obvious from previous air flights were
slowly fading as fields grew together, even in the relatively short time they
had not been tended. The chopper sped above the ground chasing its own shadow,
flying over the small towns that littered either side of the endless and
motionless freeways. Cars were backed up in some places as if frozen in a
traffic jam that would never let up. Other areas were just expanses of black
tar baking in the heat.
He drew in a shaky breath at the quiet below him. There were large metallic
shapes littering the ground, planes of all sized that had just fallen from the
sky. In some places huge scars in the earth marked the impact of the larger
planes. "We're close to the airport," he said softly.
"We're not headed to the airport," Billings replied.
Mulder sat back in his seat, closing his eyes against the scene of so much
obvious death. Were the passengers even rational when the planes were going
down? That was something he hadn't allowed himself to consider...all the planes
in the air when the opening had exploded. Maybe they had simply vanished like
so many people had in the blast. He hoped desperately that that was the case,
though he knew that logically there would have had to have been some alive on
the planes when they went down.
Alex watched the look of horror on Fox's face. He saw the way Fox closed his
eyes as if trying to deny some truth. Dammit! He would make it right with him.
If Fox would just give him the chance.
Russian River
Skinner felt rather than saw the sudden and engulfing pain of the water surging
over Garren. His eyes were focused on the helicopter as it dipped once over the
tree line and then vanished, the only sound to mark its presence was the strange
humming that was wholly unlike any machine he had ever heard. Only the sound
the blades made as they turned was familiar. He cursed his assassin, for whom
other but Alex could have planned such a thing in the days of chaotic ruin? He
had to smile even as he cursed the green-eyed assassin. "Only Alex," he
breathed.
He knew he could save Garren from the river. Perhaps even the old ones who were
still desperately trying to bring their packleader to the shore, their immense
strength dimming as the water surged over their changed bodies. But if he did
such a thing, he would lose time in the retrieving of Fox and Alex.
He had no decision to make in the end.
Were he still human he would have gone after Fox and Alex without thought.
Without concern for the murderous beast in the river, even now fighting to
remain alive.
But he wasn't human any longer. He was something apart. As Garren was apart.
He could feel his own energy surging tugging him toward the river as if that
which had made him different was desperate to save the wolf. Without another
glance at the empty horizon he abandoned his vehicle and went into the water
just in time to see Akael leap into the water and desperately dive down to find
his Garren.
The current was surprisingly strong, despite the placid appearance of the
tumbling river. He knew he could not swim to Garren's side quickly enough to
save him, even as strong as he was, and so in frustration he stopped the flow of
water, seeing it in his periphery building up into a wall to his right. The
water to the left rushed back in to claim the space and he pushed that away as
wel. He could see the wolves now, the ancient ones, Emil and Josia, and Garren,
on the muddy bottom with only the ancient ones moving weakly. Each had a claw
embedded in Garren's chest. They were using the claws on their feet and of their
free hands to gauge into the river bottom, to grapple their way to the shore.
That they had been doing this when the water had been rushing over them was
apparent, but it was also apparent that they would not have made it. The river
bottom was riddled with pieces of disintegrating wolves, younger ones who had
died almost instantly.
Still more wolves were plunging down the embankment and toward their leader,
knocking fearlessly into Skinner, one young male even clawing at him to move
past him. Skinner held the water until the Akael and the pack had dragged
Garren to the shore. Once ashore Akael collapsed near Garren and gasped for
breath. The ancients had been dragged simply because they had their claws so
deeply embedded into his chest. There was absolutely no concern for these old
wolves, Josia and Emil, who must have been feared by the pack. The pack was
focused entirely on Garren. Josia was left half in the river as he purposefully
removed his claw to better assist the young ones bringing Garren to shore,
knowing dimly that his added weight hindered their efforts.
Skinner strode over the mud, pausing only to use one hand to pick up the
abandoned Josia and drag him to shore. Once the old wolf was on dry sand,
Skinner went to Garren's side. Uncaring that there were other wolves even now
crossing the muddy trail he had created, he slowly began to let the water flow
once more, careful not to release the massive wall at once. The wolves jumped
back onto the dry shore and paced restlessly on the opposite side. He knelt
beside the wreckage of what had once been a creature of beauty, and he felt
desperation to save him. The source of his power quickened and came to his
fingers when they stroked the roped bits of muscle gleaming against the bones of
Garren's face. Blue eyes stared into his with an awareness that was impossible
for the damage sustained.
Skinner prepared to call forth his power to heal Garren, but it leapt from him
without any thought or control from him. He knew then that it, that mysterious
source of power, was simply using him as a conduit. The pink glow of it
surrounded the near-corpse, and the pack members on their side of the river
moved back in tense anticipation. Skinner had no idea what to expect, but he
didn't have to wait long to wonder. Almost immediately flesh and skin and
muscle and beauty was being restored. When the unbidden energy ended abruptly,
Skinner knew Garren was safe.
Garren didn't speak for a moment, but when it did it was a command.
"Save Josia and Emil. Now!"
Skinner couldn't resist a smile. "Someone should tell you how to say thank
you," he mumbled, amused.
Garren's eyes narrowed and his arm shot out with great force, though weaker than
before his plunge into the Russian River, and grabbed Skinner's arm. "Do it!
It is nearly too late."
Skinner turned to look at the two ancient wolves. They were convulsing, bodies
ravaged by the river, though not as in such dire straits as had been Garren.
"Now!" Garren roared.
Skinner caught his urgency and knelt at the side of the wolf he had dragged from
the river. No unbidden power came to him, and he was forced to concentrate on
healing Josia, forced to envision healing him. At first there was no response.
He didn't know what to do. In Garren's case the force had done it all, there
hadn't been a need to know. Apparently Josia was not important enough, he
thought ruefully. He quickly grew exhausted at the demand on his power. The
wolf should have been dead already, that it wasn't, was a testament to its age
and strength. Slowly the massive body began to knit itself together in human
form. Skinner paused to draw a shaky breath and felt Garren at his side. The
packleader had crawled to him and was staring intently at the still form of
Josia.
"Don't stop," he growled. But for all his gruffness, there was worry and
sadness in his deep voice.
Skinner reapplied himself to the healing, calling on everything he had still
inside, knowing the power would surge back into him soon enough. Josia's eyes
opened and he shoved at Skinner with surprising strength, nearly succeeding in
knocking Skinner away from him.
"Rest easy, Josia," Garren said soothingly. "I am out of the killing water.
Let the ascendant help you."
Josia's eyes locked with the blue of his leader and he smiled. "Reckless pup,"
he said quietly, before closing his eyes once more.
Garren grinned down at Josia and Skinner frowned. He didn't want to think of
Garren as anything more than a monster, but the interaction between the old wolf
and Garren was so...so human.
"Now Emil, quickly," Garren ordered when he could see that Josia was healed
enough to survive.
Skinner looked at the old wolf and saw no life there, but he went to its side
and pressed his hands on what remained of its chest. He felt a small reaction
in the ruined flesh and once again worked to bring upon the healing. As with
Josia, he had to concentrate on the healing and when it was done, he collapsed
on the sand. "Any more to save, you are in charge of," he whispered to Garren.
He lost consciousness and did not notice when Garren swung him up in his arms
and carried him away from the river, ordering the young pack members to assist
the three old wolves to the bordering forest.
Washington D.C.
Why live anymore, she thought as she looked out at the macabre scenery below
her. There were pockets of normalcy, people walking on the sidewalks, even
though the streets were now clear. Habit, ingrained behavior. The sun rose,
uncaring of the human events, and set with the same alacrity. There was the
occasional shout of children playing, the occasional dog barking, though dogs
had been killed at higher numbers than any other animal in the event. The
becoming that the thing Murdoch called it. But the slings filled with young men
and women, the grotesque slings. Intolerable! And the creatures!
It was a nightmare really, but more so because her only child was gone. So long
had she structured her own responses to him, to keep herself apart from him,
safe from the anguish of losing another child if she could but distance herself
enough. Foolish old woman, she thought in regret. If she had the courage she
would simply step off the balcony and end it all. But she wouldn't. She would
continue in this way until the thing Murdoch tired of pretending she was
something special because of her son. She knew Murdoch had claimed to adore her
son, but she knew that the thing did not have an inkling of what adoration was.
And for as much as she longed to see her son's face, she could not wish him
here. Not in this ghastly parody of a city. A woman's scream shrilled across
the morning and Tina stepped quickly away from the balcony and hurried back to
her bedroom. There were windows there too of course, but she could sit on the
reading chair there and try to pretend that the screams and the other sounds of
the nightmare were simply emitting from a television somewhere. She sat and
picked up one of the many books Murdoch had left for her and tried to lose
herself in its story.
The chopping sound of a helicopter broke into her desperate escape and while it
sounded vastly different from the helicopters of the sane world, she got out of
her chair and hurried to the window in hopes that perhaps the U.S. military had
finally regrouped. When she saw the giant helicopter, its purple paint so dark
that it appeared black, she shuddered. Black helicopters, she knew all to well
about them. Her husband Bill had been involved in so many covert situations
that she had had to become deliberately oblivious to his activities or she would
have gone mad. This helicopter was a mirror image of the others she had seen
land on her property over the years. Yet it was strangely quiet. Just the
whirl of the blades making the familiar sound. The helicopter flew above her
building and within moments the sound of the blades were gone.
What had she expected? The sky to be filled with army green choppers filled
with young men armed to the teeth? She supposed she had, at least for one
wondering moment. Disappointment filled her, but she refused to give in to the
emotion. She resolutely returned to her book, but before she could read one
word, a feeling of foreboding came over her. She had the sensation that the
helicopter had something to do with her son. Over the course of her life she
had learned to listen to her instincts, learned to trust them. The lesson had
been a harsh one, for she had ignored the desire to stay home with her children
the night her daughter had been taken from her. She had allowed herself to be
prodded and bullied into leaving Fox and Samantha for the evening, even when she
knew she should not. It was the same instinctual knowing that led to her
divorcing her husband Bill, and to her sudden certainty that her remaining child
was in danger.
She once again stood quickly. "No! They can't have found him," she said
desperately as she hurried to dress herself.
When she looked as presentable as possible she went to the door of the apartment
and rushed out. Of course some lackey of Murdoch's rushed to detain her, but
she waved the human male off with an imperious hand. "I demand to be taken to
Murdoch at once," she said coldly.
The young man, who had escaped death only by pledging complete loyalty to
Murdoch, shook his head stubbornly. "I was told to make sure you stayed right
here."
"Young man, are you aware that that was entirely for my protection. Imbecile!
Arrange transportation immediately, or I will find someone who will."
The woman's bearing brooked no resistance. Her words and attitude were so
reminiscent of the wealthy women he had parked cars for outside of the Barney's
Café that he quickly nodded. "Right away."
She didn't even acknowledge his agreement and he was left to trail after her on
the way to the elevators.
Murdoch's Penthouse
"Master, I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a heli..."
Murdoch turned slowly to face the pure blood who had invaded his private
chambers. His look startled the woman into silence and she quickly looked at
her feet as humble a picture as a former senator could make. He wanted to tear
her heart out and shove it down her throat for disturbing him. Would have if
she had not sacrificed so much for his ascendancy. She had sacrificed her own
son so that the opening would usher in a new world, Murdoch's world. Loyalty
and devotion had to count for some things, he restrained himself by thinking.
He had almost succeeded with Garren. The traitorous wolf had been so close to
death, but Skinner had to intervene! He looked at the former senator and once
again thought of how satisfying it would be to rip her to shreds. To feel flesh
part from bone...but such therapies were best practiced on others. "What is
it?" he finally growled.
Katherine Morris was a bit stunned that she had to inform the Ascendant of
anything. He had always seemed to know everything before the Change, and had
gotten more wondrously powerful after it. Why did he have to be told of the man
coming from the west? "A man has arrived from California. He has a working
helicopter, not powered by any ascendant."
Murdoch frowned anew. He could feel the man now, could almost sense his
intentions, but his focus on Garren and that damned trouble-making Skinner had
clouded his mind for a time. Another reason that Skinner had to go. Perhaps
Garren would have learned his lesson, and would come back to heel. Though that
seemed highly unlikely.
"He says he has gifts for you."
"Gifts? For me?" Murdoch chuckled, "I have everything I need...almost that
is." He thought of Foxling, his beautiful Foxling who only existed for him, so
far away from him.
"Yes. And Master?"
Murdoch looked at the former senator intently as she seemed to be hesitating
about something. "What is it? I am not a patient man, Katherine."
She nodded and quickly blurted out her news. "He says his name is Mulder."
Murdoch raised his brows slightly, not completely surprised. There was
something interesting here. "Mulder, is it?"
"Yes, master. He comes as a messenger from those beings that would oppose your
rule of this world."
Murdoch grinned now. "Ah yes, the same group from which Garren's little mate
made contact with us. The Consortium and their alien allies. They have some
sort of negotiation in mind then."
It was not a question and Katherine did not reply. She followed Murdoch as he
abruptly turned and walked to the door. "I will meet him in the receiving
chamber. See to his comfort," he paused, "for now. And see to it that my
prince's mother is received and held here. She comes to seek me out."
McClellan Air Force Base
The pilot spoke again, her voice as emotionless as before. "Everyone strap in.
We're landing."
Alex returned to his seat next to Fox, but resolutely avoided looking at him as
he strapped himself in. He was stunned by Fox's hand clasping his own and
turned startled eyes to Fox's. There was still that horrified look on Fox's
face, but it was fading, and he winked at Alex.
"Let's hope this pilot knows how to land smoothly," he quipped, jerking his head
toward the wide opening in the large military craft.
Alex nodded mutely. Was it possible that Fox hadn't heard Fletcher? He didn't
have time to ponder that question for the helicopter swooped dizzyingly down and
settled with barely a bounce.
Fox nodded and winked again. "She can land, all right."
The soldiers jumped out and bent their heads to avoid the blades even thought
the helicopter was too high for the blades to be a danger. They gestured to
Alex first and he unstrapped himself and waited for Fox to do the same thing
before he stepped off the craft. He took in the base and thought it looked
anything but abandoned. There were several soldiers in strategic positions and
what looked to be a fenced in group of civilians sitting listlessly in the
almost heat. There was a heaviness in the heat that was unusual in California,
slight humidity. He heard Fox cluck disapprovingly when he spied the civilians
inside the chain link fencing.
"Why are they in there," Fox asked immediately.
"Survivors, we're going to be transporting them soon," Billings said quickly.
Fletcher gave him a chilly look and he clamped his mouth shut.
"Transporting them where," Fox demanded persistently.
Alex recognized the stubborn look on Fox's face. Jesus. Couldn't Fox for once
just concentrate on his own well being? "One thing at a time, baby," he urged.
Fox tightened his lips with disapproval, but to Alex's relief he let the matter
drop and followed the soldiers to what looked to be the main headquarters.
Alex's face revealed none of his inner turmoil, but he looked to observe Fox
frequently in the short walk. Too late to prepare him now, he thought, cursing
himself.
Once inside the soldiers directed them into a spacious office. A nameplate
still resided on the sturdy, no-nonsense desk. The office was Spartan, and
looked as if it had always been that way. They were left in the room alone and
Alex took a deep breath as he and Fox both sat down in un-cushioned wooden
chairs facing the desk. For an instant Mulder could imagine he was safely
ensconced in Skinner's office about to be reamed for budget violations. It was
a poignant memory of things past. Of Skinner leaning back in his chair in
deceptive relaxation, ready to pounce with a few well-placed words in his deep
voice, ready to make even Scully wet her lips nervously from time to time.
"Now, Fox, I should probably warn you..." Alex began, but was silenced when the
door opened and Spender paused in the doorway, smiling benignly.
"Ah, Agent Mulder and Alex Krycek. So good to see you both."
Alex made no comment and simply stared at Spender, his thoughts centered solely
on Fox.
"I can't say I'm surprised to see that you survived," Fox drawled. "Roaches are
extremely hard to kill."
Spender chuckled and brought a cigarette to his lips. He drew deeply and held
the smoke in for several seconds before releasing it slowly. "Agent Mulder, you
are, at the very least, consistent. I should think you would be thanking me for
arranging your escape, but you don't seem to be very grateful. And Alex," he
paused to let his eyes take in the young assassin, "you don't seem very happy
either with the success of our plans. Of course then you are rarely happy are
you?"
Mulder looked at Alex and knew his lover was worried about his reaction, and he
wondered at what plans Spender mentioned. Their escape was one plan, were there
others? He patted Alex's thigh and stood. "So what's the catch? Why did you
help us?"
Spender moved from the doorway and two armed men followed him. He sat at the
desk facing Alex and Fox, while the two soldiers took up position behind them.
"I don't suppose you can understand my motivation, Agent Mulder. Suffice it to
say it is the completion of a very complicated strategy. A different ending
than the original plan, but then you must know that this Murdoch and his group
have altered everything. Why should our plans be any different?"
Alex was intent on the soldiers behind him, but he wondered at what Spender was
getting at. His expression was smug, as if he were happily weaving some trap
for he and Fox. Whatever it was, they wouldn't fall for it.
"We are not staying," Mulder said harshly. "I don't care what your plans are."
"My plans?" Spender chuckled. "Oh, Agent Mulder, how wonderfully naïve you are.
Did you think that your relationship with Alex was accidental? I can assure
that it was not. Every part of it up until this change was monitored and, may I
say, enjoyed. Particularly the lovely scene in which Alex woke you with his
fingers."
"You son of a bitch," Alex growled. "You had nothing to do with it, and you
know it."
Spender grinned. "I am not trying to insinuate that Alex didn't enjoy his
assignment, Mulder, just that you were an assignment. Just like many other
assignments my lovely Alex has performed for the cause. Just like the one in
which he was involved with after you and he became lovers in the effort to
infiltrate the Mediggo. An assignment, which ultimately found him being the
focus of the wolf Garren."
Fox started a bit at that. He had always assumed that Garren had just come
across Alex when he had been with Scully and Frohike retrieving Maggie from her
home. Was Spender just lying?
"Fox, he's lying," Alex hissed just as he felt a sting in the back of his neck.
He heard Fox call his name, but it seemed far away and then there was nothing.
Fox caught Alex's crumpling form with a small cry. He shook Alex and turned
angry eyes to Spender. "You bastard! What did you do?"
"I wouldn't harm him, I assure you. He's much too valuable. He has merely been
decommissioned for a short while. I know only too well how dangerous Alex is.
After all he works for me. He seems to have other plans now for you and he,
and that would only interfere in our conversation.
Mulder was grappled to the ground by a hulking man in fatigues while three other
soldiers picked Alex up and left with him. He wanted to scream, but a fist
exploded in his face and he blacked out.
Alex woke with a start and looked about the small room. He was on a bed and Fox
was sitting near him staring at him with curiosity.
"Baby, God, you're okay." He noticed immediately that Fox wasn't wearing the
same clothes, nor was he wearing the medallion. "What happened? Where's
Spender?" he asked even as he sat up and reached toward Fox. He stroked the
pretty face gently. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, Alex." Fox tilted his head into Alex's stroking face. "You slept. I
didn't try to wake you."
Alex frowned and swung his legs off the bed. "Slept? Yeah, I guess that is one
way to describe it. But you...you don't believe what Spender said do you? I
mean I never was told to get close to you. That was real, baby, all of it."
Fox's eyes had widened and his mouth dropped open a bit at Alex's intensity.
"Tell me that you believe me," Alex demanded huskily.
"I do, Alex." Fox smiled then, a beautiful smile in its gentleness. "Why
wouldn't I?"
Alex groaned and pulled Fox to him, quickly maneuvering his lover onto the bed
and covered him with is own muscular body. "Oh God, baby," he whispered. He
lowered his mouth to Fox's ripe lips, stroking the plump flesh of the lower lip
and gently gaining entrance into the moist mouth. He drank in Fox's gasp of
surprise before capturing Fox's wet tongue and sucking on it gently. He felt
Fox's hardness grow beneath him, felt the long legs parting wantonly. "Fox,
you're so beautiful, you make me so hard," he husked into the wet depths,
forsaking the trapped tongue to nip and suckle on the provocative lower lip. "I
know the sheets aren't leather, but I need to feel you." He leaned up a bit to
tug at the folds of Fox's shirt, pulling so that buttons gave with an almost
imperceptible pop, revealing the muscled chest beneath.
Fox was blinking up at him, mouth open and working in soundless seduction. Alex
watched that mouth try to form words before he slid his tongue and lips down
Fox's throat, nipping lightly. He brought up his hands to further part the
shirt that covered Fox and ran his palms over goose fleshed skin and erect
nipples. "You're so beautiful," he repeated. "So responsive. God, I want to
make you come, baby. I love making you come," he managed to say, shaking with
desire.
"Alex," Fox breathed. "I like this."
Alex chuckled, "I know you do, baby. God, I know you do." He kissed Fox's
mouth once more, groaning as Fox became more assertive in the kissing, his
tongue rubbing Alex's with fervor and lust.
"Don't stop, Alex," Fox whimpered. "You won't stop will you?"
Alex shook his head wordlessly. He had no intention of stopping. "I missed
you, Fox, I missed this."
Fox said nothing, only ran his hands over Alex's own chest in a parody of Alex's
own caresses. "I want to touch you, may I?"
Alex gave Fox a wicked grin. "What is this? Are you playing innocent with me?"
Fox shook his head. "I am not playing. I just want to touch you. You...you
are beautiful."
Alex sat back long enough to take off his own shirt, groaning in pleasure as Fox
immediately rubbed his own palms over Alex's flesh. The touch was tentative,
gentle.
Alex reached down and pulled down on the zipper of Fox's new trousers, feeling
inside for the hardness there, the heat there. "You're already wet, baby," he
husked as he slid on thumb over the top of Fox's cock, spreading the wetness
over the silky hot head, moistening his lips hungrily as he watched the
seductive path of his thumb. He bent his head and kissed the tip, lashing his
over the tip with hard, long strokes. Fox spread his legs further and arched up
into his mouth with a surprised gasp.
"Oh, that feels so wonderful," he murmured, shakily.
Alex slid the head of Fox's cock into his mouth and sucked hard enough to make
Fox cry out, and then soothed with gentle licks. He reached down and cradled
Fox's scrotum in his hand, cupping and rolling the two balls together carefully.
Reluctantly he pulled up and asked, "Do you want to come this way, baby," he
asked hopefully, wanting nothing more than to taste Fox's orgasm.
"Come?" Fox gasped. "Where?"
Alex frowned, but smiled after a brief pause. "Now is not time for humor, baby.
I don't have to give you a choice. I could make you come anyway I like." He
smiled wickedly. "You know it, and love it."
Fox shook his head, "I don't understand, but I will come with you...I know you
are my friend. Spender said so," he said in a barely audible voice. He licked
his lips and moved his hips suggestively. "Please just don't stop."
Alex abruptly sat up, a chill making its way into his gut. He looked down at
Fox warily. "Fox...Mulder, what did he do to you?"
Fox reached for Alex, determination to touch evident in his innocent face. Alex
grabbed Fox's hands. "Answer me, baby."
"What did who do to me, Alex? Can't we still touch? I want to still touch,"
Fox begged. His hips pushed up into Alex who was still straddling Fox's hips.
The contact made Alex groan. "Please, Alex," Fox begged, "please touch me
again."
"Spender, what did he do to you?" Alex demanded, using every bit of willpower to
resist Fox's pretty begging.
"Nothing. He said you would like me, and you do."
Alex got off the bed and stepped warily back from the bed, warily back from Fox.
"Explain that," he said gruffly.
Fox frowned and looked down at his body, then longingly at Alex's. "Are we
done?"
Alex just stared at his lover.
Fox smiled suddenly, cheerfully and brightly. "I like you a lot. That was so
much better than with the others."
Alex's eyes widened with incredulity. He took a deep breath and clenched his
fists. He had too often over-reacted where Fox was concerned. He was
determined to keep his head with Fox, for once.
Fox slid off the bed with more bounce than Alex had ever observed, more like a
happy child than a man, though his body was anything but that of a child's,
lithely muscled and long limbed. Still gorgeously erect, Fox walked to a small
desk in the corner of the small room.
"I wish we could touch more, but since you are done now, look what I have." He
held up a leather bound book for Alex's inspection.
"What is it?" Alex asked warily. Something was definitely wrong here. Fox
wasn't acting like himself at all.
Fox smiled again. "It's a book. It tells stories. This one is very interesting.
You can have it." He held out the book to Alex with a very innocent smile.
Alex frowned and stared intently at his lover. "What is wrong with you?"
Fox frowned. "Nothing is wrong with me...at least not that I know of. Could you
tell me what you mean?"
"You're acting all doped up. Is that it? Did they drug you too?" He took hold
of Fox's shoulders and stared into Fox's eyes, looking for any pharmacological
sign that would explain Fox's behavior. The eyes were curious, but didn't have
small or enlarged pupils.
"You have green eyes," Fox said suddenly. "They are very good." He frowned, "I
mean they are very nice."
Alex withdrew from Fox with a frown and stepped away further. He stared at Fox
for several minutes, with Fox staring back in a state of growing unease. "You
aren't Fox," he finally spat out. Though he was suddenly convinced that this
person was not his lover, the sudden look of rebellion on that familiar face was
so like his lover that he almost retracted the words.
"I am too, Fox. I know it, because that is what I am called by the doctors and
Spender."
"Jesus," Alex breathed, taking additional steps away from the look-alike.
"Jesus, they wouldn't! They didn't!" he barked.
"Do you not want my book? Spender said you would want something else from me,
but I was hoping you would not take my dolphin. It is very nice, like your
eyes. But you can have it if you like." He smiled again, such a happy smile
that Alex wanted to groan in confusion. He was so beautiful. "And I would very
much like more touching. You can have anything you like," Fox added without any
show of coyness. "The doctors gave me lots of things."
Alex gaped at what could only be a clone. It stood and walked toward a bookcase
and retrieved a glass figurine. Seeing his lover, and it not being his lover
made him back away as the clone came toward him.
"See?" the clone asked, holding out the figurine.
"Yeah, it's great. You can keep it...Fox." He turned and tried the door, not
surprised to find it locked. He hit at the door angrily and turned to look
around the room for anything that would help open the door. The clone was
staring at him in shock.
"Why are you making noise? What are you doing, Alex?"
"Shut up and let me think," Alex growled.
"Are you angry with me?"
Alex turned a burning look at the clone. "Look, I don't know what the game is,
but if you and Sender think that I'll fall into bed with you just because you
look like Mulder, you are all out of your minds. Now shut up and stay out of my
way," he hissed, feeling furious that he had indeed fallen into bed with the
clone. But he had thought it was his Fox, he told himself fiercely.
Fox returned the figurine to the bookcase keeping a wary eye on the man who had
seemed so nice when he was sleeping, but who was quite irregular when awake.
"Are you having a temper?" he asked suddenly.
"What!" Alex growled, surprised by the devious clone's persistence.
"A temper. A period of ire expressed either vocally or physically...not exactly
the specific definition, but one that seems to fit you."
Alex pounced on the clone and slammed him into the nearest wall. "You have not
seen me in a temper, you piece of shit. But if I can't get out and find my
Fox, then you and Spender will definitely see it. The look of surprise and pain
on the clone's face, Fox's face, made Alex draw back immediately.
"You are not nice. You hurt," the clone whispered. "I don't want you here
anymore. And I am not giving you my very good story book," he finished with a
pout that was so Mulder that Alex wanted to apologize. Fox went immediately to
the discarded book and grabbed it up. "You are bad. Very bad. You aren't my
friend."
Alex's eyes got bigger with every childish accusation. This clone was unlike
any he had ever come across. The pique and the innocence in that face and in
the voice was either real or the clone was a superb actor. He doubted the
later. He was being glared out at the same time that those moss green eyes were
filling with tears. He thought of the possibilities. Either this clone had
been made when Fox himself was young and allowed to mature in the way all clones
were or he had been cloned recently and aged in some alien invasion force
methodology. He had, of course, heard that the aliens had the ability to clone
soldiers quickly, but would they really do that for the Consortium? That would
give the Consortium an equal advantage in preparing troops. And was that
technology so advanced that clones could be grown to adulthood in a few years?
Sooner?
"How long have you been here, Fox?" he asked gently.
"Many days," Fox said sulkily. "And no one hurt my arms, or my head either," he
said with a moss green glare beneath brown lashes.
The accusation was, of course, that Alex was a very bad man. He held in a grin,
"And before that?"
"There was no before," Fox said not looking at Alex.
Alex swallowed. "Do you mean you are only a few days old?"
"I am twenty-four years old physically, but," Fox frowned, "I was born here many
days ago."
"So you were born twenty-four," Alex rasped.
Fox nodded. "But I do know that other babies are born little. I know all about
reproduction. Are you being nice now?" he asked warily, but hopefully.
"Because if you are, you can have my book."
"I don't want your book," Alex said harshly, regretting his tone when the
clone's face registered hurt. "I mean it is a very nice book, but I have to get
out and find someone."
"Another Fox?" the clone asked, accepting Alex's explanation.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why what?" Alex asked as he bent beside the bed to see what the frame was made
from.
"Why don't you just wait? Spender will come, and he will tell you where to find
your other Fox." When Alex ignored the question and began to slide under the
bed on his back, Fox dropped to the floor beside him. "I am not supposed to
know this, but I know that there are other clones like me." He saw the burning
green eyes focus on him, and he leaned closer, his face under the bed with Alex.
"In stasis we were taught English words, but also other things. Things that I
am not supposed to tell anyone. But you are not Spender or the doctors. So I
can tell you." He paused to touch Alex's leg, "You have a much nicer body than
Spender."
Alex brushed the hand off impatiently, despite the compelling changed scent of
the clone. That alone testified to the truth of the clone's claim of age. He
and the others, if he was right about the existence of the others, had been
cloned from Fox after he went through the change. "You shouldn't touch people
like that, Fox, " he scolded.
"Yes, Alex," the clone said obediently. But ruined the obedience by questioning
the command, "Why not? Touching is nice."
"I bet they sure taught you to like it, the bastards. Sick bastards," he growled
as he gave up on the bed and slid out. "You may look like an adult but you're
just a kid," he spat out.
"No, I am twenty-f..."
"Yeah, yeah, twenty-four, I know. Only you're not, up here, where it counts,"
he said tapping Fox's forehead. "Up here, you're a kid, and so shouldn't know
what touching is."
Fox shrugged. "I like touching. It is warm and nice. And I get nice things
from the doctors when they touch me."
Alex felt himself tremble with rage. The bastards had cloned Fox and then tried
to make little porno sluts out of the results. "Yeah? Well when the doctors
come in again, you let me know which ones taught you that it was nice, okay?"
"You are looking like you are having a temper again, Alex. Spender said you
would want me to touch you. He said you would teach me everything I needed to
know."
Alex gasped. "What? He said what?"
"He said you would teach..."
"Never mine what he said. I will not teach you anything of the sort! You just
keep quiet while I get us out of here and do exactly what I tell you to. Can
you do that?" He didn't know when the plan to get to Fox had been altered to
include getting this clone out as well, but he was sure as shit not going to
leave him here. "Where are the others? We need to get them out too," he said
determinedly. It hit him then that there was no way he could protect he and Fox
and other changed clones without Garren and Skinner. Their freedom would be
short-lived. But he couldn't let copies of Fox, innocent copies of Fox be turned
into sex slaves, could he? It made him sick to think of it. He resolved to
find his Fox, and they could decide together what to do.
"The others were taken away. They were taken to Murdoch. I know this because
that was one of the pieces of information that was given to us in stasis. Of
course I was given the same information and thought I would too be going to
Murdoch. But Spender simply copied the information to create me. I do not know
why. And I do not know if anyone else knows about it."
Alex frowned. "Are you saying that you were all programmed, knowing you would be
going to Murdoch, but that Spender just didn't change your stasis learning, even
though you weren't going to go to Murdoch? That doesn't sound like him."
"I am saying that Spender did not know of the programming. But you can't tell
him. Because it would upset plans, I think," Fox frowned. "I am not sure,
because I was not sent. So I am not sure how I am to help those who programmed
our stasis in their struggle with Murdoch."
Alex blinked. "So the aliens are still fighting then? They think to kill off
Murdoch with some clones, only the consortium doesn't even know it. And
what...the Consortium thinks to use the clones as some sort of bribe...maybe to
appease the aliens and retain the technology."
Fox shrugged. "I do not know about that. Only that Murdoch is the enemy and
that we were to remove his head." He frowned. "But that is very violent, and I
would not want to do it anyway. So I am glad I stayed here with nice Spender."
"Nice Spender, my ass," Alex growled, his eyes taking in every aspect of the
room.
"And you are wrong on another count, Alex," Fox said with a mutinous expression.
"I am not a child. Children have no cognitive ability, no metacognition, no
reasoning skills, no problem-solving skills. I have all those things. I am
rational, perhaps I am innocent of experience, but I am not a child. I never
was."
Alex stared at the clone. "I still say you're a child, and that is that."
"But that is not that. I am fully functioning mentally at the level intended.
I perceive things like you do, not as a child. I learn quickly, like you can be
very bad, and you can be very good. I just have not learned why you change
moods so very quickly."
"Well innocent of experience then if not a child," Alex grudgingly allowed,
still not sure that he would go so far himself, "but that is still enough to
warrant no touching. As for my moods, well let's just say you were a surprise,
that's all."
"You liked touching me a few moments ago. You did not seem to think you were
touching a child," the clone pointed out.
"I thought you were my Fox," Alex spat out. "Not some mirror image. Now, let
me think."
"All right, Alex," the clone said sweetly. He went to sit on the bed. "Will you
be nice all the time now, or do you have some...irregularities that I should
know of?"
"Stop asking so many questions," Alex snapped as he went to the bookcase and
searched behind books for something to use, anything.
"I'm sorry, Alex," the clone sighed. After a moment he shifted on the bed.
"Are you as old as I am? You don't look older."
Alex's eyes widened at the question. "I am older than you...try thirty plus
years older than you."
"Oh. You don't look it," the clone stubbornly insisted. "What is you whole
name?"
"Fox!" Alex warned. God they would have to clone someone as impossible to
silence as Fox Mulder.
"Sorry."
Alex peered above them and saw the many cameras affixed to the ceiling. Most
interesting about the ceiling was the rather large air duct. He was looking
around for something to use to pry it open when the clone spoke again after
maintaining an obedient silence for five seconds.
"You put my penis in your mouth. That was wonderful. I never had that done to
me before."
Alex felt his muscles tighten. God, don't let this clone speak to Fox before I
can, he prayed silently. "I'm glad," he growled while throwing the pretty clone
a quelling look, and receiving a happy, innocent smile for his trouble.
"Sex, that was what that was," the clone informed him.
"Jesus."
Mulder groaned, wondering why his face felt as if he had ran into a glass wall.
When the door opened and Spender walked into the office, Mulder pulled himself
off the floor, remembering where he was.
"Agent Mulder, so glad that you are awake. I have had you monitored through
there while I attended to other amusements," Spender said as he walked in with
two heavily armed men. He pointed to the black cameras positioned at the
western corner of the room. "I had hoped we would have had time for a long
talk, but the situation being what it is," Spender shrugged in feigned
disapointment. "I thought though that I would let you know that your mother is
still alive."
Mulder jerked, his face registering his shock, much to Spender's approval.
"Ah, yes. She certainly is. You left her in the east, but she was alive."
Spender made a small sound of feigned disappointment. "You brought your
partner's mother, but not your own. Poor Teena."
Mulder broke gazes with Spender. He had left her. Had not given her much
thought, in fact. Of course he had been worried, but to just leave her. To
escape with his life, his lover and leave his mother...
"She is Murdoch's guest," Spender purred, enjoying the way the agent jerked at
that bit of news. Fox Mulder had always been something of a irritant to Spender
and the Consortium, kept alive solely because of his father's lingering sense of
duty, no more. But Spender had often enjoyed sparring with the young man, and
delighted in thwarting the brilliant mind that lurked behind the pleasing face.
"You're a lying bastard! You lied about Alex, and now you're lying about my
mother," Fox spat. Of the former he was certain, there had been too much glee
in Spender's voice as he alluded to Alex's participation in reeling him into the
Consortium clutches. And he knew too well who had initiated the relationship.
But the later, his mother...Spender didn't seem to be lying. He only wished
Spender were.
"About my assassin? Ah yes, well that was for his benefit. You see, once you
are gone, I like to think of him despondent, knowing that you believed him of
treachery. He finds it so hard to trust, and so will naturally think no one
could fully trust him. As for your motherŠwell I think you will be pleasantly
surprised."
"I am not leaving him," Fox growled.
"Oh, Agent Mulder, you are going to meet with your mother," Spender said with a
soft, almost gentle smile. Bluish smoke curled up from his narrow lips,
twisting slowly around his head. "Of course I will explain everything to Alex."
Fox made to leap across the desk at Spender but found himself caught from
behind. He turned to face the man who had grabbed him and with a vicious elbow
into the man's neck he threw the soldier off him. The doorway was suddenly
filled with soldiers and though he fought them with an intensity he had never
before felt, he was able to feel the prick of a needle into his left buttock.
He fell to the ground as the world suddenly blurred out of focus. He didn't lose
consciousness as quickly as had Alex, and he was able to see Spender walk to his
side and smile down at him.
"Agent Mulder, you really are a beautiful man, but such a distraction," Spender
chuckled. "Of course from what I have seen, your clones are much more
physically appealing than you, so maybe Murdoch won't be as pleased by your
arrival as I had anticipated."
Mulder tried to form words or conscious thought but the world crumpled in on
itself and he knew nothing more.
Spender watched as the soldiers behind him expressionlessly lifted Mulder off
the floor. "Make sure he stays unconscious the entire trip," Spender warned
thoughtfully as he stared at the soldiers who were completely unaffected by the
agent. Were this one of the clones, he would be advising the men to not touch
Mulder throughout the trip. Something wasn't quite right. The agent did indeed
look edible, but he was not nearly as intoxicating as the clones. Very strange
indeed. Of course for him, the attraction of a man was based on his
dangerousness, not his pretty face or succulent body. And Alex Krycek was the
most lethal assassin he had ever known. His body tingled imagining what Alex
would d once he awoke to the presence of the juicy little clone. He chuckled as
the soldiers carried Mulder out and toward his new life. The wolves would be
coming soon, he knew, and Bill Mulder, if he survived the meeting with Murdoch,
would be out for his blood for handing over Bill's real son to the Ascendant in
the east. He had just enough time though to enjoy Alex's predicament before
transferring to another location. The future was going to be exciting.
End of Mirror Images
"The last fire will rise behind those eyes
Black house will rock
Blind boys don't lie
Immortal fear
That voice so clear
Through broken walls
That scream I hear
Beats like a drum
Deep in your veins
I can't forget
Why you were mine
I need you now"
Based on Cry Little Sister, by Gerald McMann
West of the Russian River
Day Twenty-One
Hour 0645
he rope Mulder clung to was retracted into the belly of the black helicopter
faster than was Alex's, and Mulder watched his lover below him nervously even as
strong hands were pulling him aboard. He was shoved back behind the soldiers
who were moving too slowly in getting Alex in, at least to Fox's mind. He
pushed back forward and leaned over to watch Alex's ascent. The medallions
swung forward off his chest, minutely obstructing his view, and he impatiently
drew them off and replaced them in the sopping pocket they had originally been
placed.
The Willows Resort
Day Twenty-One
Hour 0630
Day Twenty-One
Hour 1500
Washington D.C.
Sacramento, California
Day Twenty-One
Hour 0720
Coming Soon ???
