by HollyIlex
Recruitment had fallen to nothing. It had been years since they had taken on
a postulant.
His flock was shrinking as death took its toll.
Money was tight.
Morale was low.
He needed a focus for his remaining sons in God and if that task happened to
bring in some money, all the better.
If it made the selfless life of prayer and work seem glamorous, that could
also be for the good.
Father Abbott had often envied the bigger and better-known establishments.
They had their mead, their beer, their liqueur... now his Monastery of
St. John the Baptist would have something uniquely theirs.
Who would have thought... he smiled to himself as he cut the thought off.
He knew that the God in whom he believed sincerely and devoutly could use
anyone for His purposes.
The young man who had installed the new computer for instance... an
unlikely instrument for God to use for the greater good, some might say.
Father Abbott did not want a computer. Monastic orders of all kinds had
survived this long without, he'd argued, but the Mother Church had overruled
him and sent a polite young man along to install the computer and stay a few
days to show Father Abbott how to use it.
Father Abbott smiled again as he remembered him. Peter, he had said his name
was...
"Upon this rock..." Father Abbott had murmured.
Peter had smiled at him, his eyes looking green in the light filtering
through the window.
"Don't go building any churches on me," he'd said. "I'm sand, Father, just
sand."
Father Abbott liked people and he sensed something in this young man so on
impulse he invited him to have dinner and conversation with the brothers,
rather than alone in the guest wing.
He'd been faintly surprised when the young man accepted.
It was during the recreation hour, when the brothers were discussing
computers with Peter, that the young man had mentioned something and it had
given Father Abbott an idea...
He invited the young man to his study to talk some more after recreation.
They'd talked a lot more in the days that followed... days when Peter
spent his days teaching the brothers how to use their new computer and his
free time talking to Father Abbott.
They had been fascinating conversations and Father Abbott had made a lot of
notes.
From the notes came a plan and, after much prayer, Father Abbott put
together a proposal.
He presented the proposal to representatives from the Mother Church and
applied for development money to make his idea into reality.
They were keen to be seen to be relevant in the modern world, but this was a
high risk venture... yet the monastery was only small, failure here would
not be so bad, it could be blamed on many things and the cost would not be
so large, the loss would be manageable... and if it worked, there was
profit to be made. Lots of profit.
The representatives recommended in favour of the proposal and Father Abbott
got his money.
He set his small flock to work renovating some outbuildings, bringing in
professionals to do the wiring and plumbing.
He needed one more professional to get the project off the ground so he
advertised.
Meanwhile, Brother Mark prepared the press releases and the brothers sat
back and waited for their quiet life to be turned upside-down.
They didn't have to wait long.
Part One
Fox Mulder was tired. His feet ached only slightly less than his jaw and he
was beginning to think that if he never smiled again, it would be too soon.
He grinned.
Sir Fox.
It was a shame that, as an American citizen, he could never call himself
that but still—an honorary knighthood had brought a smile to Scully's
tired face.
Dame Dana.
He'd known she wanted to accept her honour from the moment she showed him
her letter—breaking the rule of confidentiality but as she said, Mulder
was the one person she knew would never betray her. It was then that he'd
known he could not refuse his knighthood—it would have spoiled her
pleasure.
So here they were, at yet another party, sipping champagne that was too warm
and eating snacky things that were too cold.
Dame Dana was enjoying herself.
Fox smiled at the sight of his partner chatting to a group of three admiring
men.
She was sparkling. Coruscating.
She was glad it was all over and she was more than ready to move on with her
life.
Fox was glad about that. He was ready to move on himself but unlike Scully,
he had no direction in mind. No burning ambitions. Nothing. His life's work
was over and all that was left was a void.
And parties.
He sidled out of the room and into a quieter room where he found a copy of a
psychology magazine. Relaxing into a leather-covered wing chair, he began to
read...
Part Two
Walter Skinner gazed into his glass.
The whiskey gazed back.
He frowned.
Since Mulder had left the Bureau things hadn't been the same.
He missed Mulder.
Sometimes Walter had dreamed of this moment. The moment Mulder was no longer
there. He'd never thought he'd miss the man... well, maybe miss him like
he'd miss a dose of the flu but not miss him like this.
Like he liked the man.
Loved him.
Oh shit!
Walter drained the glass and poured another.
He slumped back on the couch and turned on CNN.
There was Mulder outside Buckingham Palace. Sir Fox and Dame Dana....
And Mr Skinner.
He wasn't jealous of the award, he didn't want a fucking knighthood anyway... but some recognition of his part would have been nice.
Instead of which he'd been called into the Director's office and told he was
drinking too much and to take some time off. As much as he needed.
He had good reasons for drinking. He'd seen things, done things...
Walter shuddered and drained the glass.
He poured another and turned his attention back to the screen.
Sir Fox and Dame Dana were gone, their place in the limelight finished.
Another story was running now...
The news item caught his attention and he put down the glass, grabbed a pad
and made some quick notes.
It was a possibility at least. He resolved to make more enquiries.
Part Three
Alex Krycek was watching CNN as well.
He also made some notes.
Then made a phone call to England.
Part Four
Mulder had enjoyed his six week holiday in England. He had travelled around
a lot, revisiting old haunts and finding new ones.
Some places made him think of Walter... places he thought Walter would
enjoy, places he'd like to visit with Walter. Whitby, Shrewsbury, York,
Winchester... places with history and character.
Other places made him think of Krycek. Alex would like Hastings, he thought,
a rather run-down place now with the few remaining signs of its former glory
days well hidden. He'd enjoy the noise and brashness of Blackpool. Mulder
tried not to imagine Alex wearing nothing but a Kiss-Me-Quick hat and a big
smile...
London—Alex would like the shops and the bustle and the crowds, Walter
would appreciate the quiet squares and the museums and galleries.
They'd both enjoy the Royal Armouries in Leeds but Mulder wondered about the
wisdom of taking someone like Alex to a place with so much weaponry on
display—even if it was all archaic. Alex was deadly when unarmed, give him
a sword and anything could happen...
Sometimes Mulder liked to imagine Alex was a character in Highlander. He
liked the idea of Alex beating the crap out of some of those immortals—Cory Raines for a start. Then Duncan McLeod. Mulder was sure his Alex could
beat Kalas with one hand tied behind his back... but not Methos, no, the
fantasies Mulder indulged in about Alex and Methos were of an altogether
different kind and involved a bed, lots of bare skin and Mulder himself.
Even better, Alex, Walter and Mulder...
Mulder pushed all thoughts of his holiday away, pushing thoughts of Walter
and Alex away at the same time.
Today he started his new job.
He was now the psychologist in residence at the St John the Baptist
Monastery. His patients... well, they weren't technically *his* patients.
Elizabeth would look after them, he was there to keep an eye on things, to
make sure that anyone requiring intervention was spotted and helped.
Grinning, he turned on his computer and called up the first file.
He found the file fascinating and made copious notes, easily identifying the
famous actor within the first few minutes. He jotted down some
recommendations for Father Abbott and passed onto the next file.
The idea was obviously a good one—the monastery was fully booked for some
weeks ahead.
Mulder was relieved. He preferred to be busy.
Part Five
It had been decided, in order to avoid any awkwardness, that while there
were men in residence Mulder would stay in his cottage and some of the
brothers would bring him his food, stay and eat with him and visit him
during their recreation hour.
Mulder was not a prisoner behind the high walls of the monastery. He had an
old cottage, all low beams and out-of-line walls, in the grounds near the
wall. A small garden had been fenced off for his use, which ran from the
back door of the cottage to a door in the wall. Mulder had the key to the
door, and could therefore come and go as he pleased.
Father Abbott had been at pains to explain that Mulder was welcome to have
women visit him in the cottage but to please ensure they did not set a foot
out of the front door of the cottage—that was monastery land and for men
only.
Mulder didn't bother explaining that he was not interested in women.
He rarely left the monastery.
Mulder found the company of the brothers restful. They didn't want anything
from him. They didn't ask him for alien stories or try to tell him about the
time they had been abducted, they didn't try to talk to him about crop
circles or strange lights or Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster; instead, they
talked quietly about their hopes for a new bread oven or the difficulties
they'd been having with the garden or they played chess with him or they
engaged in friendly philosophical debate about various topics—one of
Mulder's favourite memories for many years afterwards was the hour they
spent together discussing the similarities between prayer and creative
visualisation and whether either or both worked.
Mulder was surprised both at how much they knew and at how open-minded they
were. When he voiced his surprise at their open-mindedness, Brother Benjamin
had smiled gently at him.
"How can we not allow that anything may be possible when we believe in a God
who is infinite? How can we believe in His infinite mercy if we try to
restrict Him in other ways?"
Mulder had smiled back.
"I wish there were some men like you working for the FBI five years ago,"
he'd said, knowing as he said it that there had been Walter Skinner.
The brothers had chuckled and turned the conversation to other things.
The weeks passed very pleasantly. Mulder was almost happy.
But he missed Walter Skinner and he worried about what may have happened to
Alex Krycek.
Part Six
November brought biting winds, cold rain and wet fogs. It also reduced the
number of bookings to just two.
Mulder took a gulp of his coffee as he opened the first file.
[Good Morning. My name is Elizabeth. What is your name?]
"Gautier"
[Welcome, Gautier. What would you like to talk about?]
"Nothing. This was a mistake."
[Why was this a mistake?]
"There is nothing I want to discuss."
[Tell me more.]
"I don't like counselling."
[Why don't you like counselling?]
"I don't like talking about myself."
[Why don't you like talking about yourself?]
"I might reveal too much."
[Tell me more, Gautier.]
"If you knew what I'm really like you wouldn't want to talk to me any more."
[Why do you say that?]
"My step-father told me so."
Mulder grinned and sat back, looking at the words on the screen.
Elizabeth was amazing, he thought. A few questions and she had penetrated to
the secret that was probably the core of all this man's problems. He settled
in for a careful study of the rest of the file, making careful notes as he
went.
It took him several hours to go through the file thoroughly, making sure he
missed no clues. Gautier had revealed his painful secrets to Elizabeth in an
extended session that must, Mulder was sure, have left the man feeling
emotionally drained and in need of human companionship and physical
exercise.
Idly, he wondered what the man was like. He was a mass of insecurities and
self-doubt beneath the surface but that did not mean he could not present a
confident front to the world.
Mulder shrugged. It was no part of his job to wonder how the man coped day
to day, his job was to ensure he got the most out of his stay with the
brothers.
He lifted the phone and had a short conversation with Father Abbot before
taking a well-earned break.
Then he tackled the second file.
[Good Morning. My name is Elizabeth. What is your name?]
"Delano"
[Welcome, Delano. What would you like to talk about?]
"Love."
[Why do you want to talk about love?]
"No-one loves me."
[Tell me more.]
"I am not lovable."
[Why are you not lovable?]
"I am bad."
[Why are you bad?]
"I have done bad things."
[Why have you done bad things.]
"To survive."
Mulder scanned the rest of the file quickly and then reached for the
telephone again.
"Father Abbott? Mulder."
"Hello. What can I do for you?"
"I've found a... an admission of crimes committed. What do I do?"
"Nothing. We have assured our visitors that their words are as safe as if
given in the confessional."
"But, Father Abbott... murder is a serious matter."
"Yes, it is. To take another's life must lie heavily on the conscience and
burdens the immortal soul. And that is my only concern—the immortal soul."
"But..."
"No more arguments, Mulder. You have signed a confidentiality agreement
binding you to the rules of the confessional."
"Yes, Father Abbott."
Mulder replaced the phone and studied the words on the screen again before
reaching for his notebook and starting the slow process of analysing
Delano's responses so that he could monitor his state of mind.
He was pleased to see that this man had not spent more than a couple of
hours interacting with Elizabeth, but even so Mulder was hungry and ready
for dinner before he finished.
Part Seven
The next day there was no file marked "Gautier" but there were two files
from "Delano." One was dated the previous day while the other was dated that
morning and seemed very small. Mulder opened that one first.
Mulder opened it.
[Good Morning, Delano. What would you like to talk about today?]
"Murder."
[Why would you like to talk about murder?"
"It is a sin."
[Why is it a sin?]
"What? Are you a philosophical computer?]
[Tell me more]
"Fuck off. End session."
Mulder winced. Sometimes—not often—Elizabeth's programming led her into
inappropriate responses. Although usually her inappropriate responses did
not get such a strong reaction...
He sighed and called Father Abbott.
Then he opened the longer file, from the previous day.
[Good Morning, Delano. What would you like to talk about today?]
"I am in love."
[Why are you in love?]
"I don't know. It just happened. It's not going to get me anywhere."
[Tell me more]
"I'm in love with a man who hates me."
[Please go on.]
"What is there to say? I took the wrong path. I chose and I chose wrong. He
thinks I am evil."
[What do you think about that?]
"I think I have been stupid and I have done bad things to survive but I am
not evil. But he will never love me."
Mulder read the transcript through to the end, noting that there were
several places where Elizabeth's responses were less than ideal.
Unfortunately this had inhibited Delano from exploring his feelings in any
but the most superficial way.
The men attending the centre were told that Elizabeth was a computer
program, and they were given guidelines to help them get the best from her.
Mulder sighed. Delano appeared to have problems with the system. He would
have to take control of Delano's next session himself. He set his computer
to sound an alert when Delano next signed on and went to get some juice and
snacks and visit the bathroom. Once he started, it could be a long session.
Part Eight
Mulder relaxed for the next couple of hours, jumping up and crossing to his
computer as soon as the alarm chimed. He selected the response he needed to
start the session and focused his attention on the screen.
[Good Morning, Delano. What would you like to talk about today?]
"Nothing."
[Why do you want to talk about nothing?]
"Nothing left to talk about."
[Tell me more]
"I've already told you about betrayal, murder and unrequited love. What else
is there?"
Mulder decided he had to take the conversation in a different direction.
[How do you feel about your life?]
"Disappointed."
[Why do you feel disappointed?]
"Nothing was what it seemed."
[Tell me more]
"I thought I was doing what was best. I didn't expect to fall in love."
Mulder thought quickly.
[Tell me about falling in love]
"I'm in love with a man."
[Tell me more]
"He's tall, slim, dark-haired. He has a wicked sense of humour and he is a
good man. Dedicated, loyal, honourable... all the things I'm not."
Mulder felt a prickling at the back of his neck... it had been a while
since he tried to identify the person interacting with Elizabeth but he had
a feeling he knew this one.
[Does he have a name?]
"Fox."
Mulder stifled his first impulse, which was to call Alex Krycek every name
he could think of under the sun and then make a few new ones up. He had to
be fair to the man. Some of the things he'd read in the first transcript
weren't pretty. He'd been a Consortium child, like Mulder, but unlike Mulder
Alex had been removed from his parents and tested, then trained for his
future role.
The training was thorough. Closer to conditioning than training. It was
nothing short of a miracle Alex had broken free of it and helped them defeat
the invasion.
Mulder turned his attention back to the screen.
[Tell me more]
"What's to tell? He would never look at me twice."
[How do you feel about that?]
"Like I never had a chance. My life was mapped out for me before I was ten.
I've done things he could never forgive."
[Are you sure?]
"Yeah. Shooting a man's father seems pretty unforgivable to me."
[Even if he deserved it?]
"How do you know that? Who the fuck are you?"
[My name is Elizabeth]
"Fuck off."
Mulder sat back in his chair.
He'd made a complete mess of that and no doubt he would have Alex Krycek at
his door any moment.
Wearily, he went to get two beers from his fridge.
Part Nine
Mulder was only partially right.
He did have Alex Krycek at his door—it took Alex just four minutes to find
him.
But Alex was not alone.
"Sir?"
Mulder's eyes widened when he saw the former AD.
"Can we come in, Mulder?" Skinner growled.
"Sure, take a seat. I'll get another beer."
When Mulder returned to the small sitting room, Skinner was still standing,
albeit uncomfortably hunched because of the low black beams that crossed the
room.
"What the *hell* are you doing here," he demanded as soon as he saw Mulder.
Mulder gave him a beer and sat down.
"I work here," he replied calmly.
"Doing what?" Skinner asked, his tone still angry.
He decided to sit down before he knocked himself out.
"I am the resident psychologist. I oversee the interactions between visitors
and Elizabeth."
Skinner went pale, then red.
"You mean... you... you *eavesdrop*?"
"No. I get file copies after the session is over. Sometimes I run the
session."
Mulder glanced at Krycek. He was looking too calm. Mulder filed the
information away and returned his attention to Walter.
"So... so you read *everything*?"
"It's my job," Mulder replied.
Walter stood quickly, his intent being to escape from the confines of the
cottage. Unfortunately he forgot the low beams and he hit his head hard,
collapsing back into his chair with a dazed grunt of pain.
"Get some ice, Mulder," Krycek ordered.
With an ice pack and a little time, Skinner was soon fully conscious and
insisting he had no intention of submitting himself to "the tender mercies
of what passes for health care here."
Mulder opened his mouth to argue but a small shake of Krycek's head stopped
him.
"We need to talk, Mulder, and the sooner the better."
"I am not apologising for doing my job," Mulder said firmly.
"But..." Walter seemed unable to continue.
"You must see it's different, Mulder," Krycek said, "With us knowing you and
all."
"I can't discuss that," Mulder said. "I might inadvertently give something
away about one of your sessions."
Krycek sighed with frustration.
"I'm not happy, Mulder," he said.
Mulder did not believe him. There was something missing in his tone, some
level of anger that was present in—indeed, radiating from—Skinner but
Krycek was too calm.
"Neither am I," Skinner growled.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mulder felt like things would be
okay now Skinner was growling at him.
"Okay," Mulder said. "Look, let me get more beers and get rid of that ice,
and we'll talk about what we can do."
Returning with three beers, Mulder sat down.
"We should have been told," Skinner said.
"There are good reasons why no-one knows of my involvement," Mulder said. "I
understand you're neither of you happy about this. Look, we need to discuss
this, but I can't talk freely to both of you at once."
Skinner shook his head.
"I can't talk about this at all, Mulder. I don't know why I came here with
Alex."
Mulder noted the use of "Alex."
"Maybe it would be easier if we used Elizabeth," he suggested. "I can run
the session, entering responses as if I was the system."
Krycek's lips quirked.
"Turing test?" he asked.
Mulder grinned.
"In reverse, " he said. "I have to pass myself off as an artificial
intelligence, not the other way round."
Skinner still looked grim.
"Walter," Alex said softly, "Could you feel any worse?"
Walter sighed.
"Yes, probably, but not by much," he admitted.
Then he seemed to remember something.
"What about you?" he asked. "You were the one who was in a session with
Elizabeth which you cut short to come racing to find me, shouting and
cursing a blue streak, I might add. I think you'd better apologise to the
Brother Jerome."
Mulder grinned.
"Not necessary," he said, "Although the gesture would probably be
appreciated. It's happened before. Brother Jerome gave one of our visitors a
demonstration of muscular Christianity. He wrestled the man down into the
mud and swore at him in at least six languages that I recognised until the
man stopped swearing and started crying."
Skinner's eyes widened.
"What, Walter? You think what we do here is all New Age mumbo-jumbo for
neurotics?"
Skinner blushed faintly.
"If I thought that, I wouldn't be here," he said defensively.
Mulder refrained from commenting, deciding instead to turn the conversation
back to Krycek.
"And you haven't answered Skinner's question, Krycek," he said, grinning.
"You know why i came," Krycek said. "You were pretending to be Elizabeth and
you recognised me."
"How?" Skinner asked.
Krycek sighed and looked at Skinner.
"I... I don't know how but we got onto the subject of love. I admitted to
loving someone, then said that I'd killed his father and... stupid me!
said that his name was Fox... I guess it didn't take a genius to work it
out after that."
Skinner smiled.
"No," he said softly, "I think even I could work it out from there."
"So," Krycek said, "I guess I might as well pack up now and go."
"NO!"
Mulder and Skinner spoke together. Krycek looked in surprise from one to the
other.
"You and I need to talk, Alex," Mulder said softly.
"What is there to say?" Krycek said, his posture screaming defeat even more
loudly than his tone.
"That I... am attracted to you," Mulder admitted. "That I don't know what
we do about it."
Skinner snorted.
"Bonk like bunnies would be my suggestion," he said.
Mulder let out a shout of laughter.
"I can't believe I've just heard AD Skinner say that," he said, still
laughing.
"*Former* AD," Skinner growled.
"He does... bonk, you know," Krycek said, grinning. "Very well, too."
Mulder's laughter stopped.
"He... he does?"
"Oh, yeah... you have no idea."
"And you do?"
"Walter and I... we met in a park in Richmond."
"Virginia or Yorkshire?" Mulder asked, a little edgily.
"Virginia," Krycek said. "We'll go into your reasons for not mentioning the
23 other Richmonds in the world later."
"Like there's some chance of you both meeting in Richmond, New South Wales?"
Mulder sneered.
Krycek smiled.
"About a dozen are in the US," he said, "And another two or three are in
Canada. And there's a much more well-known Richmond in England."
Mulder shrugged.
"I guess I just picked my own favourite Richmonds," he admitted.
Krycek smiled again, the smile of a proud parent whose child has just done
something right.
"We met in a park in Richmond in the Commonwealth of Virginia," he said,
daring Mulder to ask which Commonwealth of Virginia.
Mulder didn't—as far as he knew, there was only one.
"We were both lonely."
Alex paused and he glanced at Walter, who nodded imperceptibly.
"We were both suffering from unrequited love and guess what? We both wanted
the same unattainable man."
Mulder's eyes widened in shock.
"So we had a few beers, got nicely buzzed and decided on a bit of mutual
consolation."
"When did this happen?" Mulder asked, more for something to say than
anything else.
"About five, six months ago."
Mulder did a quick calculation. It was while he was on holiday.
"When Walter told me he was booked in here, I said I'd come too."
"I was going to cancel," Skinner added, his tone making it clear he wasn't
sure he'd made the right decision.
"I'm glad you didn't," Mulder said. "But I don't understand... if you are
now a cosy couple, where do I fit in?"
"Oh, in the middle," Alex said, grinning. "Walter behind you, filling you as
full as only he can, me in front feeling you move inside me."
Mulder was speechless.
Skinner laughed.
"If I'd known a simple erotic fantasy like that could shut you up, I'd've
been spinning them for you for years," he laughed.
He moved to sit next to Mulder and put his lips close to Mulder's ear.
"After all, I've been spinning them for myself for long enough...
fantasies of you under my desk giving me a blow-job while I talk to Pendrell
or Kim or Scully... Fantasies of you naked, kneeling at my feet, wearing
my collar and lead..."
Krycek choked and Walter looked up.
"Hit a nerve, Alex?" he asked.
Krycek nodded.
"Yeah... how about both of us kneeling at your feet, naked but for our
collars, our leads in our mouths, our eyes fixed on you, our Master..."
"Are you both kinky?" Mulder asked.
"We both like having fun," Alex said. "But it has to be safe, sane and above
all consensual. Nothing you don't want."
"I could spreadeagle you on my bed and lap creme de cassis from your navel,"
Walter went on, his hot breath tickling Mulder's ear as his words sank into
Mulder's soul.
"I have dreamed of licking your cock almost as often as I have dreamed of
seeing your lips wrapped around mine," Krycek whispered, his mouth on
Mulder's other ear.
Mulder moaned.
"I want to lick you and love you until you can't remember your own name,"
Walter murmured. "I want to hear you scream and watch you come for me."
Mulder moaned more loudly.
"I want to lay you on my bed and spread your cheeks and taste you," Krycek
said. "I want to fuck you with my tongue until you are begging for mercy."
"I want to kneel at your feet and take your cock deep into my mouth. I want
to see Alex slide into you and know that every times he thrusts into your
willing arse, he'll be pushing your cock into my mouth," Walter said.
"H... how... how about what I want?"
"What do you want," Krycek purred. "Tell us and we'll make it happen."
"Kiss me?"
There was almost a collision as two eager men leaned in to kiss Mulder's
waiting mouth. Walter gave way to his young lover, letting Alex have the
first kiss.
He watched as Alex gently brushed Mulder's lips with his own, then saw Alex
kiss Mulder more firmly. As Mulder's mouth opened beneath Alex's gentle
assault, Walter leaned in.
"Feels good, doesn't he? Can you feel him, Fox? Feel his body, hard and
muscled and lean. Lift your hands and run your fingers through his hair,
feel how fine and soft it is."
Walter watched as Mulder touched Alex. He heard Alex's soft groan at the
tentative touches to his face and hair.
"Would you like me to touch you, Fox? All you have to do is say the word and
I will."
They broke the kiss, Fox panting and flushed, Alex breathing less hard but
also flushed.
"Well, Fox?" Walter asked. "May I touch you? May I give you pleasure?"
Mulder nodded, not sure when he'd changed from being Mulder to Fox but
unwilling to break the mood by complaining.
"Your turn to kiss Fox," Alex said. "Which means I get to touch, if that's
okay with you, Fox?"
Mulder had never understood the meaning of 'struck dumb' before this moment.
He was incapable of speech, incapable of rational thought. All he could do
was nod.
Alex smiled and touched his arm reassuringly.
"Tell me if you don't like anything I do," he said.
Then Walter was leaning in for a kiss and Mulder was surrendering himself to
the sensations. It was quite different from being kissed by Alex, Mulder
decided, Walter was more dominant, more in control.
He felt Alex's hands slide under his t-shirt and arched into the touch
eagerly. Mulder whimpered when Alex's fingers rubbed his nipples gently.
Walter broke the kiss.
"You okay, Fox? Was that a whimper of pleasure?"
"I... I don't... whimper," Mulder said, "And it was pleasure."
Walter grinned.
"I heard a whimper. What about you Alex?"
"Definitely a whimper. A fox-cub whimper."
"Let's see what other noises we can get from our Fox," Walter said, and he
started nibbling the side of Mulder's neck.
"Please," Mulder moaned.
"Please what, Fox?" Krycek whispered. "What do you want?"
"Touch me," Mulder begged.
"That'd be a lot easier if we took this to a bed. Do you have a bed?"
"Yeah," Mulder said. "I even sleep in it sometimes."
"Please tell me it's not a single bed," Walter said, breaking off from his
neck-nibbling.
"King size," Mulder said. "The brothers thought, me being American and all,
that I'd be used to a big bed. They had the bathroom done to their idea of
an American bathroom as well."
Krycek wondered what that was but for now he was happy to stick with the big
bed.
"Let's take this to your bedroom, Fox."
Part Ten
Mulder could never remember getting from his sitting room up the narrow
stairs to his bedroom. The room was almost filled by the giant bed, and it
was difficult for the three men to fit into the small amount of remaining
space. The ceiling was low—even at its highest—and sloped down, further
restricting the space available for three tall men.
Mulder was suddenly overcome by the knowledge of what he about to do and
with whom he was about to do it... and in a threesome.
His most cherished fantasy come to life, here in his bedroom... suddenly
he was nervous. Suppose they didn't like him, suppose he didn't please them...
He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.
Alex was next to him in a flash.
"Fox?"
"Fox, if you don't want to do this, it's okay," Alex said, reassuringly.
"I... I do... it's just... it's been so long."
"That's okay," Alex said softly, "Just leave it to us. Let us love you,
Fox."
Mulder turned his face to look at Alex. His eyes were sincere and seemed
full of... love?
Mulder dropped his eyes again. He felt Walter sit on the other side of him.
"Mulder?"
"Yeah... I'm okay with this, just overwhelmed."
Mulder felt an arm slide across his shoulders to hug him, while another arm
slid around his waist. Two heads nuzzled him, one from each side.
Walter's tongue licked delicately at a very sensitive area just behind
Mulder's ear. Mulder moaned softly.
"Do you know how hot it makes me when you moan like that, Fox?" a husky
voice demanded.
"No," Mulder whispered.
Alex's hands slid inside Mulder's t-shirt again, finding and teasing his
nipples.
Mulder whimpered.
"There," Krycek said, "A definite whimper."
He swallowed Mulder's protest in a toe-curling kiss that left Mulder
breathless.
"I think it's time to lose this," Krycek said, pulling at the t-shirt.
Mulder did not protest as the garment was pulled over his head and
discarded.
"Nothing underneath?" Skinner said. "Mulder, it's November in England.
Aren't you cold?"
"No," Mulder mumbled, "Good heating system. I think they think all Americans
are from Florida. Or California. Or someplace else, someplace hot."
"What are we doing wrong, Walter?" Krycek demanded. "He's still rambling on
about geography."
Walter grinned.
"Let's get naked," he said. "Give him some mapping of a different kind."
Alex grinned back.
"Okay," he said. "Let's. First one stripped gets to unwrap the rest of Fox."
"Not fair," Skinner protested, his hands busy at the fastening of his jeans.
"Oh?"
"You went commando this morning."
"You noticed," Krycek said, grinning as he stripped his jumper and t-shirt
off in one smooth move.
"Beat you," he said, a few seconds later.
Walter paused, struggling to remove his own jumper.
"Not quite," he said, smirking.
Alex looked at him baffled for a few vital seconds.
Socks!
Hastily, Alex sat on the edge of the bed and removed his socks but he was
too slow. With a triumphant cry, Walter threw off his boxers and moved to
claim his prize, who was sitting on the edge of the bed grinning as he
watched the antics of the two men.
"Move over here, Fox," Walter said, guiding his soon-to-be-lover into the
centre of the bed.
Obediently, Mulder scooted over and lay down.
He felt Walter's large hands on his skin, gentle as they skimmed down from
his shoulders to the waistband of his jeans.
A quick fumbling at the fastening, and then a soft command to lift his hips
- Mulder obeyed.
He felt unexpectedly vulnerable as his clothes were removed, leaving him
exposed, but Alex was there, his husky voice even huskier, telling him how
beautiful he was, how they were going to make this good.
Then he was bare, naked, sky-clad, nude, unclothed...
He felt hands on his skin, stroking him, caressing him, and it felt so good
to be touched after so long.
Mulder could hear someone saying "Please" over and over, but it was only
when Walter's deep voice spoke that Mulder realised he was the one begging
and now Walter wanted to know what he wanted.
"Too much," Mulder whispered. "So long..."
Alex and Walter exchanged glances, then Alex swallowed Mulder's cock in one
graceful movement while Walter held Mulder as he screamed and came almost
immediately.
"Sorry," Mulder mumbled.
Walter laughed softly.
"Don't you think I did the same thing when Alex first swallowed my cock?
He's very talented."
"Oh," Mulder said softly.
Alex stroked his back gently.
"It's okay, Fox," he said. "We have as long as you want."
Mulder wiggled, pressing back against Alex.
"Didn't someone mention a sandwich?" he asked.
"Sandwich?" Alex asked, baffled.
"Yeah, with you two as the bread and me as the filling," Mulder explained,
grinning.
"I think we can manage that," Walter said, and he leaned forward to kiss
Mulder.
This time Mulder tried to participate a little more, learning the difference
in skin texture, mapping the scars on his lovers' bodies with his lips.
Walter's scars were big and, while faded with time, still spoke of
cataclysmic violence.
Alex's scars were more numerous, more deliberate. They were a silent
testimony to the cruelty and sadism he had endured.
Mulder felt hands and lips on his body, even as he was covering one of his
lovers with kisses.
He arched into the touches, moaning and whimpering and whispering "Walter"
or "Alex."
Then he was laid on his side, Alex in front of him, Walter behind him. As
Walter lubed and stretched him, so Mulder did the same to Alex as best he
could.
Mulder slid into Alex first, entering him with a long slow stroke that had
Alex crying out with pleasure.
Then Mulder felt Walter breach his tight muscle. It hurt. Mulder had known
it would. It always did, even in the days when he was doing this more
frequently.
But this was Walter. He stilled at Mulder's hastily stifled hiss of pain,
and then slowly pushed in further. Alex chose that moment to deliberately
clench and unclench his muscles, squeezing Mulder's cock and making him
whimper.
"Gently, Fox," Walter murmured. "You take control, just move slightly, back
and forward. Into Alex, then back onto me, just a little movement, that's it..."
Mulder moved, sliding his cock into Alex and then withdrawing a little as he
pushed back, taking a little more of Walter's length every time.
Mulder was careful at first, almost tentative, as if unsure what to do or
how to behave, but his strokes soon got longer and he seemed to lose his air
of uncertainty as the pleasure of being both fucked and fucking took over.
Walter was alert for any sign that Mulder might injure himself and kept a
firm grip of the younger man's hips, making sure he didn't push back too
hard and do himself some harm.
By the time Walter was sheathed inside Mulder's body, Mulder was slamming
into Alex and thrusting back eagerly onto Walter's hard cock, impaling
himself enthusiastically.
"Fox!" Walter yelled, as he felt Mulder's tight channel encase his cock.
"Aaaahhhh," Fox replied, unable to speak or think or do anything except
feel. His whole being was concentrated in his cock, thrusting into Alex's
willing and squirming body, and his arse, filled by Walter's big cock.
From somewhere came a stray thought and Mulder reached around and grasped
Alex's cock.
Alex screamed and came, his cock feeling like a live entity in Mulder's hand
as Alex shuddered and gasped through his orgasm.
Mulder felt Walter roll them over, him and Alex.
He felt strong hands at his hips, pulling him up and taking his weight off
Alex.
"Brace yourself," Walter growled.
Mulder placed his hands on the headboard, gripping an iron railing tightly
with both hands.
"Oh, yeah," he said, "Fuck me hard, Walter."
Walter did just that. He pounded into Mulder's arse as Mulder moaned and
yelled his pleasure.
Alex reached up and pinched Mulder's nipples, grinning wickedly at Mulder as
he did so.
"Allleeeeeex," Mulder cried, as he came.
"Noooo," Walter groaned, as he felt Mulder's body pulse beneath him, "No,
too quick, too quick... aaaarrrghh."
Alex fetched flannels to clean them all up. Walter and Fox were close to
unconsciousness, so Alex covered them up lovingly and then crawled into the
bed with them.
He relaxed as Walter's arm reached out and pulled him close.
Part Eleven
Mulder woke to find himself snuggled in Walter's embrace.
'A nice place to be,' he thought.
He opened his eyes. Alex's green eyes were looking at him, across the broad
expanse of Walter's chest.
'Like a desert,' Mulder thought, whimsically.
He lifted his hand and walked two fingers across the firm flesh.
"A man could walk for miles out here and not find water," he said,
Alex giggled.
Mulder raised an eyebrow.
"Alex Krycek, assassin, giggles?" he said, grinning.
Alex swallowed another giggle.
"At least I don't whimper," he retorted.
"I don't whimper," Mulder said. "But I notice you haven't denied giggling."
"Why should I?" Alex demanded. "There's nothing wrong with giggling. Or
whimpering."
"I don't whimper."
"We'll see about that in a minute," Walter said.
Two smiling faces turned to look at him.
"Before that, I think we need to talk."
The smiles disappeared, as if switched off.
"I know," Walter assured them, "I don't like the idea either. But we need to
think about what happens next."
"What do you want to happen next?" Mulder asked, feeling suddenly afraid.
"I want us to stay together," Walter said. "I'm not sure I've thought beyond
that. I mean, will the monks let us live here?"
"Would you want to?" Mulder asked, surprised.
"If that was the only way to stay with you, yes," Walter said. "Alex?"
"Same here. The most important thing is for us to stay together... if you
want us, Fox?"
Uncertainty crept into his voice as he asked the question.
"Oh, yeah, I want you, both of you," Fox said. "As to the rest, we'll work
something out. Now, did someone mention whimpering?"
"Me," Walter growled, and he swooped to kiss Mulder until he was a
whimpering jelly.
Epilogue
Father Abbott waved to the three men as they drove away in their hire car,
then turned and returned to the quiet of his cloister.
It had been a hectic few weeks.
Mulder, Alex and Walter had found happiness together. Father Abbott was well
aware of the teachings of the Mother Church on the subject of men loving
other men—and he disagreed with every word.
He believed love was the greatest of God's gifts—whether it be sexual love
or the love of a parent for a child or the love of one human being for
another. It was what had called him to a life of prayer—he saw it as a
chance to love more fully. He also knew not everyone was called to such a
life—for many people, especially if they did not have children, sexual
love would be the most intense love they experienced.
He could not—would not—condemn that.
The Mother Church had reviewed the results of the first summer of the
project. They had been delighted at the success of the project and announced
they were moving it to one of the Mother Church's larger foundations, one
where they could make a lot of money as they could accommodate up to
thirty-five guests instead of the eight or so at St John the Baptist.
Then they announced they were closing St. John the Baptist and transferring
the brothers to a number of other foundations.
That upset Father Abbott.
Krycek stepped in, with Mulder and Skinner helping him, and a new plan was
formulated which Father Abbott—with the three men there to back him up—presented to the representatives of the Mother Church.
St. John the Baptist would become an even more exclusive retreat for the
very rich and very famous—no more than one at a time.
As Mulder said, "One famous person may bring with him or her a bodyguard, a
secretary, a press secretary... and any number of other people. The space
here is ideal to make them cut down the numbers to a minimum and this place
is secluded enough to offer them privacy."
The Mother Church accepted the plan—but insisted that Mulder be replaced
by someone with "better credentials and less notoriety."
That suited Mulder, Skinner and Krycek.
They had also done a lot of talking, sometimes through Elizabeth and
sometimes face to face. Here, Brother Benjamin and Brother Jerome had
helped, talking to the men separately then bringing them together and making
them really listen to one another... it had been a tough time for all
three of them.
Father Abbott insisted on them spending Christmas at the monastery.
"It's a special time of year," he said. "A time for thanksgiving. We all
have things to be thankful for this year."
Only Alex noticed the small smile directed at him.
"We have," Mulder said. smiling happily at his lovers. "It's odd, the way we
came together here. Serendipity."
"Or God's plan," Father Abbott said.
'Or Peter's plan,' he thought.
On a cold January day—Father Abbott had insisted they extend their stay
into the new Millennium—the three men drove away from St John the Baptist
and into a new future.
Father Abbott watched the car disappear into the distance and then walked
briskly back to his office. He had four new brothers arriving the next day
and a lot to do to prepare for them.
As he walked, he remember a young man with sad green eyes who called himself
Peter... a young man who laid an elaborate scheme to bring three men
together in one lonely place, a place where they would be safe and could not
only talk, but be heard.
'And yet,' Father Abbott thought, eyeing the sky warily, hoping it wasn't
going to rain, 'Most of his plans were unnecessary. Mulder came here of his
own free will. Walter had already booked a stay for himself without any
prompting... so maybe it was serendipity after all.'
He walked a little faster as the rain started.
'I'm glad it worked out for Peter or Alex or whatever his real name is,'
Father Abbott thought, 'He looks so much happier now.'
Prologue
he Abbott was a holy man but this did not mean he was ignorant of the world
or immune to its temptations.
