by Jami Wilsen
He felt rejuvenated. Well, it was hardly surprising, considering the good
food, easy living, outdoor exercise and the steady diet of sex he had
enjoyed the past few days... Not to mention the loving. Alex felt like he
really was in heaven. This golden light everywhere only added to that
impression. Never had the morning seemed so hopeful and happy to him. Not
just another day. It was one more day in this place he'd finally begun to
call home. He closed his eyes and reveled in the warmth. His smile
wouldn't leave—refused to leave. It stayed on his face. He turned his
head again and looked at Fox. He was torn between the desire to either
slowly kiss him awake or let him rest. But, both of his lovers looked
exhausted. He decided to let them be.
He breathed deeply, silently, drinking in the beauty of the morning light
and the comfort of being in this bedroom with the two of them. It still
felt like he was living out a dream. He couldn't take it for granted. Hell,
how could he, when he valued it so greatly? There was nothing he wouldn't do
to keep hold of this. There was nothing he would do to jeopardize it. If
it was a dream, he just prayed he wouldn't wake up.
Morning! Alex hadn't felt this joyful and awake, this happy about life,
since he had been very young. He rose from the bed soundlessly and gathered
up his clothes, slipping out of the room and going to the bathroom to
shower. After dressing in jeans and a flannel shirt, he went downstairs,
pausing to watch as the morning sun shone in through the large windows in
the living room. The light made everything beautiful and for the first time
in many long years, Alex felt a pure peace descend into his heart and being.
It was more than a sense of belonging; it was home. Home at last. Home is
where the heart is, he mused. And the two men sleeping upstairs certainly
had his heart now. He grinned and turned to the kitchen.
Potato latkes. He wondered if Walter was familiar with them. Alex himself
was probably less Russian than Walter was, but he still had a fondness for
them; his mother used to make them and he had never forgotten them. They
were much like hash browns but with more substance, quality and taste. They
were just—better.
Grinning to himself as he began to prepare the potatoes, Alex recalled the
previous night. Not only had the aurora been spectacular and surprising, so
had the preceding events. He never believed he would be accepted into the
middle of their relationship or their bed quite so soon. A little shudder
of desire coursed through him at the mere thought of it; it had been so
good. So hot. Being sandwiched between the two of them... Damn. His
inattentive reverie rewarded him with a cut finger. He grinned and stuck
his finger in his mouth, wondering if he could expect a repeat performance
tonight.
He had laid the table and was finishing off the last of the latke mix,
carefully creating little cakes in the pan, when he felt the presence of
someone coming down the stairs. They entered the living room and then came
to stand in the kitchen doorway. It was Mulder; he could tell even without
looking at him. He placed the cover over the pan and put the spatula down,
taking the bowl and the other implements to the sink before looking up with
a cheerful grin. "Good morning."
"Morning. The smell has carried all the way upstairs; I had to come down
and see for myself." Mulder regarded him with a little smile. "You're in a
good mood." He came forward, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he moved
right up against Alex—who drew in a breath. Mulder slowly backed him
against the sink, pulled him tight against him and hugged him, before
kissing him warmly on the cheek and letting him go. Sitting down at the
kitchen table, Mulder asked, "How did you sleep? You didn't have any
nightmares, did you?"
Alex blinked, still trying to recover, returning to the stove to hide his
hot face. Damn, why was it that all it took was a hug and a kiss to make
him so flustered? Well, this was Fox, his Fox. Right. So. "No. Uh, no,
I didn't. I guess I felt safe or something. Must've been the company."
Mulder watched as Alex busied himself with the food, knowing full well how
awkward he felt. He could see the signs of it written all over him. He
chuckled silently to himself. Alex was so cute like this. Leaning his chin
on the hand he'd propped up on his elbow, Mulder said, dreamily, "Well, you
are. Safe. I was wrong about you. Having you here is—good. It's really
nice."
Alex turned slightly and met his eye. "Yeah. It's nice to be here." He
turned back to the stove, flipping the latkes over to brown on the other
side. "Never would have believed it could happen, though."
Mulder watched Alex as he moved, putting ingredients away in cupboards and
back in the fridge. "I know. It's surreal. But, hey, we thrive on the
surreal and the bizarre. It's what makes our lives interesting."
Alex lifted his brows. "Yours, maybe. I'm looking forward to just living
for a while. You know, here with you guys. Not being on the run. Not
having to worry about faceless aliens and smallpox carriers. Or being taken
out by some hotshot who thinks he's doing the world a favor. Or—" Alex
stopped short, realizing that he really didn't want to bring up being
smothered by black oiliens at the moment. That particular subject was
unpalatable and hardly conducive to an enjoyable breakfast, or a peaceful
interlude with Mulder.
Mulder thoughtfully chewed his lip. "I know. But I was referring to the
fact that love is surreal, far more so than alien intelligence. To me,
anyway. I grew up with the mystery of the unknown but not with simple human
contact—that was fraught with guilt and tension. Alex, we know how you
feel right now because we felt the same way when we first arrived. It's
hard to settle down. When we got here, it was a bit of a shock. Like
culture shock, you know? All peace, quiet and wilderness. It's a far cry
from DC, that's for sure."
Alex chuckled. "You don't say. Listen, do you want these now? They're
good when they're hot."
"Sure." Mulder answered distractedly. He continued with his train of
thought, "Besides, now that you're here and we're all together, and friends
and everything, maybe you could finally tell me all the secrets you had
access to, all those things that I've always wanted to know."
Alex slid several of the latkes onto Mulder's plate with a quizzical frown.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you were in the Consortium. You had access to all the dirt. You
probably know more about our private lives than we do. So, spill. What can
you tell me?" Mulder grinned at him.
Alex sat down, pouring a glass of juice before tucking into his own food.
"You're going to have to be more specific than that. What exactly do you
want to know?"
When Mulder didn't respond, Alex looked up and saw the distracted expression
on his face; Mulder was staring at him. "What? What is it?"
Mulder slowly shook his head once. "It's just such a novelty, to be sitting
here with you, like this. And to have you actually willing to tell me what
I want to know."
Alex's gaze flickered and he swallowed. It was hard to concentrate on what
Mulder was saying; particularly when he got that wonderful dreamy look in
his eyes. He wanted to sit and stare back at Mulder all day long, and never
look away. He cleared his throat and took a drink of juice. And then
laughed, once. "You're right. You've finally got me, here, right where you
want me." He shrugged. "It's a fair deal." He smiled, looking right into
Mulder's gaze, head-on, not looking away. "Let me love you and in return
I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Mulder lifted a brow. "The truth."
Alex nodded. "Of course. Anything else would be pointless now, wouldn't
it?"
Mulder licked his lips; he didn't reply. Just continued to stare at him,
with that enigmatic look in his eyes that made it hard to gauge just what he
was really thinking.
Alex looked back up at him, his fork suspended over his plate. "What is it
—why d'you keep looking at me like that?"
"You are without a doubt," Mulder said, slowly, "one of the sexiest—the
most gorgeous—one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen."
Alex was paralyzed, staring back at him, completely floored. How the hell
was he supposed to respond to this? He knew he was blushing and cursed
inwardly. He had no reason to think Mulder wasn't serious—and it didn't
sound like he was flirting with him. He blinked, and then looked down in
his confusion.
Mulder turned back to his own plate and took a bite, saying as if nothing
had happened, "You're right. These are good."
"What—just what exactly do you want to know?" Alex asked again, when he
could find his voice.
Mulder's eyes twinkled. "I want the juicy details. What else?"
"Juicy details?" Alex repeated, unsure what Mulder was driving at.
"Yeah, you know! Who was sleeping with who, and all of that." Mulder had on
his mischievous grin, once more.
Understanding dawned; Alex realized Mulder was after all those secrets that
made up the Consortium's blackmail material. Difficult to decide, here;
should he go ahead and spill all of it to Mulder, or claim his conscience
wouldn't let him? Realizing Mulder wouldn't buy it, he cleared his throat
and turned his attention back to his plate. "Alright. Who did you have in
mind? And—" he added, suddenly pointing with his fork, "—I don't know
everything, remember that. Just, first of all, tell me why you need to
know. Why is it so important?"
Mulder was still grinning at him. "Come on, Alex. It's important to me to
fully understand the psychological motivations that those people have had,
to understand why they acted the way that they did. It would explain some
of the more ambiguous and strange behavior I've seen. Matters of the heart
are often more revealing than outward actions and appearances. Just look at
what happened between us. It would clear up the unspoken and unknown
factors that have driven events, particularly considering the number of
people involved and the power they held. The interrelationships are
fascinating to me."
Alex shrugged. "Fair enough. So who do you want to know about?"
Mulder downed the last of his final latke. "Are there more?" As Alex
helpfully got up and retrieved three more for Mulder's plate and one for his
own, Mulder continued, "Well, there's Marita Covarrubias, for one."
Alex shot him a look. "Give me a break. You know she had a thing for me."
"No way—she had a soft spot for me." But Mulder was smiling.
Alex smiled back him. "Believe me, we had something hotter than you ever
did. But it really wasn't worth it. It didn't mean anything. I got screwed
several times over on that one. Besides, I wouldn't trade what I have here
for anyone in the world." And he regarded Mulder with a softer look.
It was Mulder's turn to flush slightly and twist in his seat. "So, who else
was there for you?"
Alex finally realized what Mulder was doing. He grinned at him. "Mulder,
if you want to know all the people I've been involved with, why don't you
just ask?"
"I don't," Mulder protested. "Well, I do. But not just that. I want to
know about the others, too."
"I don't think this is... Fox, I'm going to have to ask you to promise me
you won't divulge any of this to Scully, okay?"
"Scully? What does she have to do with this?"
"Well, her sister—" Alex stopped, wondering if this was wise.
Mulder stared at him. "Melissa? What about her?"
Alex licked his lips and regarded Mulder, askance. "I don't—I don't want
you to get upset about this, alright? Melissa and I... I wasn't happy that
she died. We had a fling... We were involved at one point. I wasn't happy
that she was killed, and I was really glad I wasn't the one who shot her,
believe me. I didn't like what happened. But they got to her; she was
supposed to kill Dana, that same night. The Smoker had ordered her
brainwashed; you know what sleepers are? Apparently it took quite some
doing; she was her sister, after all. Hypnotherapeutic suggestion over time
—I'm sure you get the picture. I didn't realize what Melissa's actual part
was until we arrived at Dana's place; hell, even she didn't know. Then Luis
was supposed to kill Melissa, which of course I didn't find out about until
afterwards." Alex stopped, pausing. Mulder seemed calm. He continued,
"The Brit tried to warn Dana... Walter knows; she told him at the time...
Come on, don't tell me you didn't know that, at least? She suspected Walter
was her would-be assassin."
Mulder regarded him thoughtfully. "The Brit never actually said who it was;
he merely inferred it. It was my understanding that he led her to believe
she was in danger and that someone close to her might do it, or that two
gunmen would show up to kill her—and as a matter of fact, you and Luis
Cardinale did. And she suspected Walter, at the time. So," Mulder
shrugged. "Fairly conclusive, I'd say—could be either Melissa or you two.
And knowing how they used to operate, I'd say it was both options. But
with things being what they are right now, I'm willing to give you the
benefit of the doubt at this point."
How generous of you, Alex sneered silently, with more than a touch of the
old sarcasm. He glanced down at his plate, then back up at Mulder, keeping
his expression carefully neutral. He didn't want to let Mulder know that he
really was getting to him.
Alex sighed; he could see this was bound to get out of hand. He didn't want
to ruin this beautiful morning with this kind of discussion but he knew that
Mulder would pursue it anyway, regardless of how long it took for him to
wear Alex down. And besides, they did have to go over some of this stuff; he
couldn't pretend it had never happened. He just wished it didn't have to be
right now.
He didn't look at Mulder. He was getting defensive and all it had taken for
Mulder to force him back into this old pattern was a few words. Why, Alex
wondered, is it still so easy for Mulder to hurt me? All he has to do is
point the finger and suddenly I'm right back where I was before: the
outcast, the unworthy.
It was obvious that Mulder was all too easy when it came to getting into bed
with him... Surprising, considering how Mulder already had Walter. But
reaching his sense of forgiveness was undoubtedly going to be a monumental
task, despite Mulder's own claims to the contrary. He just hoped that it
wouldn't require him to be bleeding, on his knees—or dying in front of him
—before Mulder would take him at his word. Alex wanted to stop the whole
conversation. He shouldn't have expected Mulder to get over the past and
Alex's 'transgressions', just because they'd had sex. And Alex was willing
to forego the bedroom affairs if they could just find a way to live together
without violent confrontations.
Mulder saw how Alex was shrinking back into himself and uncomfortably
realized that he'd better watch what he said to him now.
Don't want another scene, after all. Jesus, this is just like being
married, Mulder grumbled to himself.
But Mulder liked sharing this kind of gossip; getting the inside dirt on the
Consortium, and he wasn't willing to let it go, now. "What about Fowley?
Diana? She loved me—I know she did." Mulder's voice had all the
self-absorbed quality of a teenager trying to convince himself that it was
true, refusing to hear his friends when they tried to tell him that the girl
just didn't want him.
Alex did sneer this time, not bothering to hide his dislike of the Fowley
woman. "Yeah, she loved you. But she loved herself more. See, she had a
thing for the smoking bastard, too. She liked him. Didn't trust him, but
she did like him. She was always her own number one priority. Come on, you
knew that, Mulder. Don't look so hurt."
"I'm not. I feel sick. She had a thing for that black-lunged son of a
bitch?!"
"Mildly. Why do you think she hated Scully?"
Mulder stared at Alex. "She didn't hate Scully, Scully hated her. Because
I loved Diana."
Alex gave a twisted smile. "Right. Because Scully loved you. But you see,
Dana was—" he stopped. "Oh, right. You don't know."
"Know what?" Mulder stared at him suspiciously, edging forward on his seat.
Alex took a deep breath. "The Smoker had a thing for Dana, big time. He
wasn't lying when he told her that."
"What?" Mulder looked blank and a little perturbed, showing the beginnings
of outrage.
Alex sighed and drained his glass of juice, sitting back in his chair.
"Remember the whole fiasco with that Department of Defense contact, Cobra?
That promise of a new genetic science; a breakthrough cure for cancer and
all human disease? The Smoker was using Scully's email to contact Cobra and
set up a meeting." He saw Mulder's thoughtful nod and continued, "He
convinced her to go with him to the rendezvous so he could have Cobra
neutralized and destroy the findings. He got her to trust him, and
deliberately led her into something he knew she would feel she couldn't
involve you in. It was all bullshit, of course. You know that much. He
used her. But he really did care about her. He saved her life; took out the
marksman who took out Cobra. Barely in time, too, from what I heard."
Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Okay. So that's why she said that when she looked
into his eyes... She believed he was telling her the truth."
"Of course. And everyone knows that Scully had it bad—for you."
"So, let me get this straight." Mulder sounded appalled. "Spender had my
mother, Cassandra, Diana, and he wanted my partner, as well?" Mulder said,
his scorn and revulsion all too clearly stemming from an automatic reaction
to protect Scully.
"Yep. Although I wouldn't call it 'love', exactly, where that bastard was
concerned."
"Yeah, that goes without saying. Okay. God, that's—sick." Mulder
frowned, thinking. "My mom... And of course Cassandra was... But what about
Jeffrey? Jeffrey Spender? Who did he like? Fowley? He trusted her."
"No, he—"
"Marita, then?"
Alex stopped with a half-smile at Mulder. "You're fishing. You don't have
to. Let me finish. Fowley was—"
"Enough about Diana, already," Mulder squirmed. "Who did Jeff want?"
Alex paused and looked sardonically out the window. "Me."
Mulder's brows rose considerably. "You?" Another grin spread over him.
"Yeah." Alex chuckled wryly and looked down at the salt and peppershaker
between them. "I knew that one of the Rebels had infiltrated the group but
unfortunately so did Spender, Old Spender. So Spender had his son go visit
the rebel 'replacement' and kill him, as a test, only Jeff choked. I had to
do the job for him. Hey," Alex shrugged, "I had to choose which was more
important. I figured turning Jeff against his father would actually benefit
us more—plus if the rebel lived, the Smoker would have figured it out,
seeing as I was supposed to be watching Jeff's back, anyway. You realize
that's why Jeff gave you back the X-Files, don't you?" Alex caught Mulder's
eye. "He paid for that with his life. And I'm partly to blame, because he
was completely clueless, Mulder. It was sad. He had no idea his father was
just using him."
"Poor Cassandra. I feel more sorry for her," murmured Mulder, thinking back
to when he had indeed sided with Jeffrey against Scully, dismissing
Cassandra as a flaked-out delusional paranoid. "Cancerman killed him?"
"Of course. Who else?"
"I thought so."
Alex regarded him. "You thought I did it, didn't you?"
Mulder took a breath. "At first. And what about you? Did you sleep with
him?"
Alex almost choked on a laugh. "With Jeff? No way."
"Why not?" Mulder grinned.
"He wasn't my type." Alex said in a dry voice
"No? The Brit, then? He must've had a thing for you, too."
"The Brit was like a mentor to me." Alex's voice was getting tighter.
"Aren't you projecting here, just a little? Are you jealous, Mulder?"
Mulder grinned again. "Alex, cool down. I just think you aren't aware of
the fact that other people may have found you sexy, attractive and
irresistibly good-looking, that's all. I mean, come on! I think even
Cancerman had issues about you."
Alex snorted. "Get over it, Mulder. There's no way. He tried to have me
killed so many times it isn't funny."
Mulder threw him a look. "So did I."
"That was different," declared Alex, getting upset now. "You were
completely different; it was personal. That bastard did not have a thing
for me. He didn't!" Alex shuddered.
Mulder decided to drop it; now even more sure than before. "Sure. So, who
were you in love with, Alex?" Then he realized ... that Kiss... "It was me,
wasn't it? Back when we were partners? Even then. From the very
beginning." He gave Alex a long, searching look. "Alex? How long was it,
really? Exactly how long have you been in love with me?"
But Alex didn't look up now. "Look, I hated you for a long time, almost as
much as you hated me. With good reason, you have to admit."
"Yeah? I had more reason than you did, I think. But let's not go over that
again. So, you do mercenary killing but not sexual exploitation and
manipulation?"
Alex went cold. "Yeah, that's right. Gotta draw the line somewhere, you
know?"
"Not really." Mulder shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get that. I
don't. How could you—I don't understand how you could think that killing
other people instead of seducing me was a viable, rational alternative.
What about Walter? You blackmailed him; you killed him, then brought him
back, just to prove a fucking point."
Alex sighed. He could feel the situation unraveling from the inside out.
"Mulder, I already apologized to you and to him. Why are you dragging me
through this again? I'm sorry for hurting him, I am. You know I am. Damn
it—" Alex stopped. "Look, he's... he was tough. I had to find a way to
demonstrate—I—Mulder, I had to convince him I wasn't bluffing. He's
tough. You know he is. I didn't have any other choice." Alex turned away,
feeling very hurt because he really did like Walter; but the whole thing had
been so difficult... He truly hadn't felt he had any other option at the
time. Why was Mulder doing this? They had been getting on so well. It all
just proved that they couldn't deal with the past. They couldn't bring it
up without Mulder flipping out over it.
Mulder persisted though. "Did you enjoy it? You know, having that power
over him, controlling him. Did you?
Alex went still. He looked away. Finally, he quietly replied, "Yes... I—"
He hesitated. "Yes." But Mulder didn't see the tears that welled up in
Alex's eyes at this. The feeling of power it had given Alex, and the fact
that he had felt turned on, by controlling Walter in that way—he really,
truly felt bad about the whole ugly scenario. And right now the pain was
still too fresh because he couldn't believe that Walter could actually
forgive him for it, could actually love him. He wondered if Walter even
realized that he had gotten off on it... If Mulder were to tell Walter
this... Shit. It might break the fragile truce, the new beginning that
they'd begun to forge here. And he'd be asked to leave.
Alex's insecurities boiled to the surface once more. All the dream-like
aspects of the morning disappeared and he was left with a castle of clouds
that was swiftly dissipating with each passing moment they sat at the table.
He sat, unmoving, looking at but not really seeing the table between them.
In an unprecedented and rare moment of compassion, Mulder suddenly realized
he'd managed to lose it again, far enough to push Alex all the way back into
the same state he'd been in when he arrived. And he groaned. He leaned
forward with his head in his hands. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Alex.
Look, I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. I'm sorry, okay?"
"Sure." Alex was quiet. "Sure, Mulder."
Mulder could tell he wasn't convinced. "I didn't mean to say that, about
you and Walter. I'm sorry, Alex. Will you forgive me for that one?"
Mulder was getting worried now, for Alex wasn't looking him in the eye. He
sucked in a breath and got up, moving slowly around to Alex's side of the
table. Sinking down on one knee to Alex's right, he put one hand on his leg
and held Alex's hand with the other. "Please, Alex. Forgive me?" Mulder
had a mournful, sincere expression of genuine remorse.
It was hard to ignore Mulder in his kicked-puppy mode. Alex bit his lip and
closed his eyes, breathing hard. "Why don't you believe me, when I say that
I'm sorry? For all of it; for all the things that I've done? Why?"
Alex he looked down at Mulder, his eyes overly bright and with such a look
of sorrow that Mulder had to suppress a gasp. Mulder pressed forward,
throwing his arms around him, kneeling there, his face against Alex's chest.
"I do. I do believe you, Alex," he said, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry I
hurt you again. I'm sorry."
Alex found himself running his hand through Mulder's hair. He swallowed,
feeling awkward. "Okay. All right."
Walter cleared his throat and they both jerked, looking over at him.
Standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded, Walter commented,
"Another fight? Am I witnessing another kiss and make-up scene, here?"
Mulder guiltily climbed to his feet and Alex sighed, looking back down at
the table in front of them. "A slight misunderstanding. We're getting our
communication down, that's all," Mulder said.
"Uh-huh. Right." Walter came in and peered down at the stacked plate on the
counter beside the stove. "Are these what I think they are?" he asked,
turning with a curious tone.
Alex quickly brushed at his eyes, standing up and going to the stove. He
attempted to adopt a careless smile. "Latkes. I was wondering if you'd
recognize them."
Walter peered into his face, considering him. And pulled him into a hug.
"Hey, good morning to you, too. You alright? Is Fox being mean to you
again?" He sounded almost joking about it but Alex took a breath and tensed
in his arms.
Mulder came up to both of them and said, in a subdued voice, "I went a
little too far. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Alex, okay?"
Walter thought for a moment. And then held Alex back a bit, looking into
his face. "If it would make things better, I could give Fox a whipping here
at the table. Yeah, we could have roasted buns for breakfast, along with
this Russian cuisine, what do you say?"
Alex snickered, tension draining out of him. "That's not necessary. I
believe he really means it." He flicked a glance up at Mulder who was
trying to keep back a grin.
"I'll be good. I will," Mulder declared. "I'll make more coffee." Mulder
sauntered over to the cafetier as if there was nothing more important in the
world for him to be doing at that moment.
This did not escape Walter's notice; he realized Mulder was feeling guilty.
"You may have just saved your ass," Walter said, with a lift of his brows.
"Coffee is a good start, anyway." He sat down at the table. "What the hell
am I going to do with the two of you?" he complained. "I can't leave you
alone in the same room together."
Mulder smirked and waggled his eyebrows at him. "That's the idea, I think.
Maybe we're better off as a triad."
Alex gave Mulder a funny look. "You mean triangle."
Mulder retorted with a slight smile, "Semantics? Now?"
"Well, it doesn't make sense to compare us to an organized Chinese crime
family, that's all."
Walter was craning his head though, looking out the window. "It looks like a
good day for fishing. I'm going to go out and cut a hole, after breakfast.
Care to join me, Alex?"
"Sure." Alex had slipped gratefully back into a nonchalant, easy and
natural posture, happy for Walter's presence. He had a sinking feeling
Walter was right. He and Mulder still couldn't be trusted to get along— Correction, Mulder still couldn't be trusted to behave like an adult with
him. He snorted to himself and turned to take Walter's plate to the stove
and give him a helping of latkes. As he passed Mulder, Alex felt the
impulse yet again to kiss him. There was something so delightfully nice
about the thought of just being able to show affection with such ease.
After all, both of them had done it to him, this very morning. But he still
felt unsure about doing so. He wanted to so very badly that he was afraid
it might be taken out of context. He realized too that the act meant a lot
more to him than the casual way in which they did it. So he resisted the
impulse.
Walter watched Alex move, the way he was carrying himself, the way he looked
at Mulder, everything. "Fox, sit down. You too, Alex."
Mulder sat back down, surprised. Alex handed Walter his plate and then
stood behind his chair with a sigh, before pulling it out and sitting down
with them.
"Now, I know there's still a lot of ground to cover," Walter began, grabbing
the ketchup while Alex watched in horror. "Hey, I like them this way, give
me a break. Okay?" He poured a dash of ketchup on his plate beside them
while Alex winced. "Fox, do you remember the day, all those years ago, when
you attacked me for no reason in the hall, in the Hoover? You were on
psychedelics at the time. Remember?"
Mulder nodded with a frown, wondering what Walter was getting at. Alex sat
mutely, waiting for Walter to get to the point.
"You tend to lash out at the object of your affection, when you have
suppressed feelings for them. And when you do, it's often in a violent
form. Do you agree?"
Mulder licked his lips. "If you're implying that I—"
"Imply, hell. I'm saying you express your feelings with violence when you
don't know how else to express them." Walter took a bite of the latke on his
fork and his eyes widened; he nodded at Alex with approval. "Good. Very
good. I don't suppose we could bribe you to repeat this sometime?"
Alex shrugged. "Sure. If I'm still around."
Walter threw him a look. He put his fork down and sighed, deeply. "For
God's sake, I thought we'd gotten past this. You're not going anywhere. And
if you suggest that either Fox or I are thinking otherwise, you're doing us
a disservice. We want you here. I thought that last night would have proven
that to you, once and for all."
Walter looked over at Mulder; his lover was sulking again. "Boys, if you two
don't find a way to get along here, we're going to have a tough time of it.
I have half a mind to mark out a dueling circle and just throw you in the
middle, let you work it out."
"Or you could just punish us," Alex said, lightly, the sarcasm apparent in
his tone. "Don't you have some kind of implement that would do the job?"
Mulder shot a horrified look at Walter before hissing at Alex, "Stop it!
What do you think you're doing?"
But Walter was laughing. He picked his fork up again and continued eating.
"Fox, if you don't learn to control yourself, I may have to punish you after
all. His suggestion's actually not that far off base."
Mulder folded his arms in front of him and glowered.
"Now. Do you or do you not agree that you have a control problem? When you
have strong feelings for someone that you don't feel safe in expressing, you
bottle them up and then let the frustration and rage take you over instead.
Yes?" Walter held his gaze, hoping to appeal to the friend he had spent
years with, together, in this very house.
Mulder looked down and away. "Alright. Yes—yes! Okay? Are you satisfied?
I do. I know I do." He rubbed his face and exhaled loudly. He turned to
Alex. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to take it out on you."
Alex looked confused. "But you didn't—"
Walter interrupted him. "He was getting damn close to it."
Alex stared at him. "You weren't even here."
"I don't have to be. I know him well enough to know that he was starting to
reach that edge again. He hurt you, didn't he?" Walter's voice was calm,
not accusatory but soothing. "Taking potshots at you over the past isn't
acceptable. It provokes you to the point of making a comeback in
self-defense and then he loses it, turning it into a physical fight. He's
going to have to find a way to communicate with you that doesn't involve
losing his temper." Walter was watching Mulder throughout this, gauging his
reaction.
And to his credit, Mulder nodded. "I know."
"I really don't want to have to be a moderator between you two but if I have
to I will, to preserve the peace and sanity in this house," Walter said,
finishing off the last of his food and helping himself to the orange juice.
Turning to Alex, he asked, "Is there anyway I could beg for a cup of coffee,
here? I think I really need one right now."
"It's not good for your stomach," Mulder murmured, automatically.
"Damn my stomach," Walter said, with a slight grin. "If I can digest the
friction between you two, I can handle anything. Better watch it, Fox; you
may end up driving me back to my Scotch."
Alex opened his mouth and then wisely held his tongue; it wouldn't do to
mention that he'd seen Walter with a glass in hand a few nights before.
Instead, he quietly went to the coffee maker and poured a fresh hot cup of
coffee. Bringing it back to the table, he placed it in front of Walter and
then sat back down. "I know I've done things that are hard to forget," Alex
stated. "Being here with you two... It's kind of like a dream to me, still.
I never thought it could happen."
Walter smiled. "That's true for all of us, really. But seriously, Alex,
you are welcome here and I wish you'd stop acting like we're about to cast
you out on your ear. It's not going to happen. And if you run for it, I
promise I'm going to hunt you down and give you the biggest spanking of your
life. Hear me?" He said it gruffly but his eyes were twinkling.
Mulder snorted, obviously feeling left out.
Alex regarded Mulder, and then turned to Walter feeling a little more secure
in the promise behind that playful threat. "Yeah. I hear you."
"Good. Now, can I have some toast? Jesus, it's like pulling teeth to get
anything to eat around here!"
Laughing, Mulder rose to get bread.
But there was no hiding or ignoring the fact that the rest of the breakfast
in the kitchen was strained. Afterwards, Alex excused himself and went
upstairs. Walter cornered Mulder in the pantry where he was putting away
foil-wrapped leftover latkes in the freezer. There were quite a few.
Walter seized him and pulled him into a bear hug. "Fox, Fox. Can't we let
him in here, into our life? I thought you were okay with this, with him
being here. At least, that's what I was led to believe last night, when you
instigated that scene in our bed."
"Your bed," corrected Mulder. "Walt, I can't help it. I'm sorry. I admit
I have conflicted feelings where he's concerned. I want him; I always did.
But I also can't deny that he's done things I can't forgive, much as I might
try. I'm trying. I really am. But I can't just gloss over it all and
pretend it never happened. You'll... you'll have to give me some time, that's
all." Mulder leaned his face into Walter's neck, breathing a sigh.
Holding him closely, Walter said, "I won't give you up for him, Fox. I
can't make that choice. If it comes to that, I won't do anything to risk
losing you. I hope you know that. But I don't want to have it reach that
point. I think we can make it through this; I have confidence that you can
learn how to deal with it. And I know we can help him. We've already made
so much progress already. Having invested this much into it, surely we can
keep going?"
"You have a soft spot for him, Walt. That's all." Mulder's voice was
muffled.
Walt stroked his back, lightly, lovingly. "And so do you."
There was a pause. And finally, Mulder agreed, "Yeah. I do. You're right;
it would be a shame to get rid of him now. Let's keep him."
Walter chuckled. "Then the next time you get out of line, I'm going to
punish you. And I think you should know what form that will take, too."
Mulder raised his head and looked at Walter, wondering. "What are you going
to do?"
"I'm going to punish him," Walter said, dryly. "In your place."
Mulder stared at him, a feeling of dread creeping over him. "That—that's
not fair."
Walter raised his brows and grinned at him. "It isn't? I think it is.
Imagine, the next time you start to lose it, you can remind yourself that he
is going to receive the punishment in lieu of your ass. That oughtta help
you hold back, unless you want him to be punished—in which case you will
have ample opportunity to decide if you really do. Because you're going to
watch, too."
Mulder stepped backwards in horror. "You can't do that! That's—"
Walter shook his head. "Damn, I'm good. I can't believe I didn't think of
it until now. It's up to you, Fox. Besides, I think it's more than fair,
considering I've got to go upstairs and patch that boy up again. I really
am getting tired of having to do this every single goddamned day." He
leaned over and kissed Mulder on the mouth, possessing him roughly, leaving
Mulder standing there flushed and breathless a few moments later.
Grumbling, Mulder turned away. As Walter left the room, Mulder remained
there and closed his eyes. It wasn't fair at all. Walter was truly
unpredictable. He could sympathize with Walt's position; it had to be
trying his patience to keep having the two of them ending up in some kind of
breakdown or fight, but to place them in the horrible position of knowing
that Alex would be punished instead of him... Mulder couldn't deny that it
appealed to him, to have Alex punished instead of himself, but the very fact
that the other two would be aware of it... Unacceptable! Also, for him to do
anything to get Alex into trouble—the inherent dishonesty of it was
unacceptable to him personally. Walter was right. He couldn't allow it to
happen. It would be too uncomfortable and regardless of what Alex had done
or was guilty for in the past, it didn't warrant Mulder framing him now, in
this current situation of theirs. Damn it! Mulder sighed. Walter had hit
on the perfect solution and knew it too. Mulder glumly realized that this
was the opportunity they both needed to finally help Mulder get over his
problem with controlling himself and his temper. Mulder finally turned and
left the pantry, intending to work in the living room at his computer and
filled with renewed intent to avoid unpleasant confrontations with Alex in
the future as well.
Upstairs, Alex found himself sitting listlessly on his bed, staring at the
floor and wondering if he shouldn't just pack up and go. He didn't want to
leave but he also did not want to have that final, dreaded scene where he
was asked to leave. Despite all the reassurances Walter had given him, it
was obvious that Mulder was not handling his presence here at all well.
Alex sank backwards onto the bed and regarded the ceiling with unseeing
eyes. If he examined it more deeply, he knew it was actually the guilt he
felt over the whole blackmail issue with Walter that was the root of his
anxiety. He really didn't want Walter to know how close to the truth Mulder
had been, when he'd said that Alex had gotten off on having that control
over Walter.
When the expected knock on the door came, Alex just grunted. At the
wordless welcome, Walter opened the door and came in, shutting it behind him
and standing with his head cocked to one side. "Are you sulking or are you
thinking of running again?"
Alex couldn't help a slight grin. But it faded quickly. "Both, I guess."
Walter lifted a brow at him. "That's getting a little old, don't you
think?"
Alex didn't respond. He returned to staring at the ceiling.
Walter came to stand beside the bed and then turned to sit down and lay back
beside him, also staring up at the ceiling, next to him. "He's difficult to
live with, sometimes. Challenging, but rewarding. And I've just had a
little talk with him. From now on, if he loses his temper with you, I've
decided that you will be punished instead of him. He isn't happy about it
but I think it may just be the deciding factor that helps him to realize he
really doesn't want anything like that to happen."
Unable to believe his ears, Alex turned his head and stared at Walter.
"You're going to punish me, instead?"
Walter sighed. "With your permission, of course. Will you go along with
it? It might be the only thing that will strike the lesson home."
Alex found himself laughing. "You're... a twisted, deviant, evil minded
bastard, Walter Skinner. If that doesn't get through to him, I don't know
what will."
"I'm in good company," Walter replied, wryly. "I often feel like the two of
you could run circles around me. I'm living in a damned soap opera. And
I'm getting really sick and tired of your threatening to run away if we
don't treat you right. I've told you over and over that I don't want you to
go. What do I have to do to convince you? Perhaps it's selfish of me, but I
do want you here. And no matter what tantrums or bitching Fox pulls I know
he does, too."
Alex closed his eyes. And decided to throw caution to the winds. "Maybe it
would be for the best, in the long run. I don't want to come between you—"
"That's not the impression I got last night," Walter interrupted,
sardonically.
Alex stopped, turning to look at him with an open gaze, not bothering to
hide his anxiety. "When you were infected with the nanocytes, I think you
should know that I—I did enjoy having that power over you—"
"I know," Walter said.
Alex regarded him. "You do?"
"Of course. It was obvious. You had that smirk on your face every time we
met. It was kind of hard to miss, Alex." Walter turned and kissed him on
the nose. "I forgive you though. I already told you that. Why are you
making that into a reason to leave again?"
"Fox said—"
Walter scowled angrily. "Fox said? Fox said. I am getting sick and tired
of hearing that. How many times do we have to go over this?! It doesn't
matter what Fox says. You should know that by now. You know he's
conflicted over you, he said so in front of you not half an hour ago!"
Alex chewed his lower lip. "So you're over it? You don't hold it against
me?"
Walter growled and rolled on top of him, catching him by surprise and
holding him down. Looking intently down into his eyes, Walter said, "I
forgive you, rat. Got it? You're welcome here, and I want you to stay. Do
you understand?"
Alex caught his breath at the possessive tone and the look in his eyes.
"I said, do you understand?" Walter repeated, giving him a little shake,
more forcefully.
"I—Yeah. I underst—" Alex abruptly found himself cut off as Walter's
mouth descended to his, effectively silencing further speech and thought.
By the time Walter lifted his head to survey the damage, Alex was panting
slightly. "Is that my punishment?" he managed.
Walter grinned. "A little love goes a long way with you."
"Be careful, I could get used to this," Alex grinned.
"Fuck; the two of you. You and Fox. You're going to be the death of me,
aren't you?" muttered Walter, before kissing him again.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?" Mulder asked, a bit
tritely from behind them.
Rolling away to lie on the bed and then sit up, Walter said, "Fox. Come
here and give me a hand to convince our guest that he doesn't need to leave.
He seems to need it at least once a day. Convincing, that is."
Mulder turned his gaze on Alex who didn't meet his eyes.
Alex felt torn; on one hand he really loved the attention and the feeling of
being with Walter, on the other he hated to think he was indeed coming
between Mulder and his lover. This thing with Mulder; it was a physical
thing. They both knew it.
Mulder came to stand by the edge of the bed, looking down at Alex,
thoughtfully. "You're right. He needs to be reminded frequently, I guess."
Mulder dropped down to sit beside Alex on his left, leaving him sandwiched
between the two of them.
"Uh, guys? I don't think—we really don't need to—" Alex tried to say, and
found himself in the alarming but interesting position of being pulled up
further onto the bed and having his hand held firmly down by Walter, pinned
above his head, while Mulder climbed on top of him and kissed him senseless.
Mulder was running his hands under Alex's shirt and when one questing hand
found Alex's left nipple, Alex jumped under him.
"He's still not convinced," Walter said. "Are you convinced now, Alex?"
Mulder lifted his head, looking down at him. Alex's breath was caught in
his throat. Mulder shook his head. "Nope. He still isn't. Maybe we're not
doing this right."
Walter sighed. "Okay. There's nothing for it but we're going to have to go
all the way. Strip him."
Alex found his voice quickly now. "No! You don't have to. I mean, it isn't
necessary. I'm convinced. Really, I am!"
But with Mulder sitting on him and Walter holding both his hand and his
prosthetic in place, leaning down with one arm across his right shoulder,
effectively pinning him, there really wasn't much he could do as Mulder
began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and two very interested
nipples begging for attention. And then Mulder grinned, and moved in place
on top of him, grinding himself against him. "I'd say a part of him is
convinced now."
"Well, I'm not. Take off his jeans," ordered Walter.
Alex's breath was coming very short and fast. Walter looked down at him.
"You like this, boy? You like being... taken?"
Alex gulped and closed his eyes. It was too good; it was far too sweet. He
licked his lips and said, hoarsely, "You don't have to convince me anymore.
I believe you. I do."
Mulder stared in disbelief then looked up at Walter. "I think he's trying
to get out of it. He's crazy."
"Take off his jeans, Fox." Walter leaned down to distract Alex by ravaging
his mouth, licking first his lower lip and then his upper lip. The sound of
Alex's zipper going down and his jeans being pulled off was loud in their
ears.
"You have something against sex in the morning?" Walter asked him, against
his mouth.
Alex found he was trembling and wondered why. Just last night he'd—and
then it occurred to him. He hadn't really believed it was happening, even
then. For it to happen in daylight, in the cold broad daylight, rendered it
starkly unavoidable and real... "Want you," he gasped, wondering why he
couldn't think past the melting sensation of his brain floating away.
Mulder was pulling his shorts down now. That didn't help. His shirt was
peeled back and his shorts were gone and he felt like an exposed offering
about to be devoured. Mulder had pulled off his own t-shirt and was
straddling him once more. Alex's cock, now free, bobbed in the air between
them and when Mulder reached down a hand to grasp him firmly Alex nearly
came, moaning aloud.
Walter and Mulder's eyes met. Walter leaned down further to whisper in
Alex's ear. "Do you want Fox to suck you? Do you? Do you want that?"
Alex whimpered, his eyes closed. "Not fair, to use sex like this. You know
I can't—I can't refuse that!"
"Well, you have a choice. Either Fox can do it, or I can," Walter replied.
Alex's mind whirled. "Hell, since he's there, just—"
And then he couldn't help bucking upward, thrusting into the hot, wet place
as Mulder's mouth descended onto him. A cry was ripped from him as the
pleasure raced through him. Mulder was holding him down by his hips, as he
proceeded to lick and suck on Alex's cock like it was a candy cane. Walter
meanwhile was kissing him once more, leaving him boneless.
He wasn't going to last; Mulder's mouth was too wonderful, too hot, too wet,
and Walter was kissing him so deep and hard and—
Alex came with a guttural moan into Walter's mouth, Mulder swallowing his
salt-bitter come and licking him clean as he jerked and shook with his
climax.
When the final aftershocks had faded, Alex lay there feeling wrecked and
completely drained. Finally, his eyes fluttered open and he was rewarded
with the sight of Walter and Mulder kissing each other over him, lengthily.
He cleared his throat. "Can I help? Return the favor, I mean?"
"I'd intended for this to be for you, Alex, but damn, you're so hot when you
come like that, I'm afraid we're going to have to take care of business,"
Walter said, leaning back as Fox met his eyes once more, and they shared an
unspoken agreement. Undoing his own jeans and pulling them down, Walter lay
back while Mulder undid his own.
"Alex?" Mulder asked, little tremors of desire in his voice.
Alex smiled widely, and lifted his hand to help Mulder pull his shorts down,
revealing his long, ample cock.
Going down on Walter, taking his thick cock in his mouth until he felt it
nudging the back of his throat, Mulder simultaneously sank down into the wet
cavern of Alex's mouth.
They were both so close it took very little time before they were both
eagerly calling out and shooting very nearly at the same time. It was over
too fast and Alex growled slightly with dismay as Mulder pulled his
softening cock away from Alex's hungry mouth.
Mulder lay back, beside them on the bed, getting his breath back.
Alex hoisted himself up, leaning on his elbow, to stare at him. "Next time,
you aren't getting away so quickly," he promised him. He turned and looked
up at Walter, who had collapsed down across the bed, at their heads. "Would
you please keep your feet off the pillow," Alex groused. As Walter
obediently moved his feet away, Alex grinned at him. "Thanks. I needed
that."
"I think we all did," Walter said.
"Yeah, nothing like using sex as an avoidance of communication about
sensitive emotional issues," commented Mulder, who abruptly found himself
being tickled fiercely by both men. He yelped loudly, and then stared at
them as they both fell backwards laughing. Mystified, he asked, "What?
What is it?"
Still trying to control his laughter, Walter said, "Fox? Was that a girly
squeal?"
"No doubt about it. That was a squeal. Very high-pitched, very girly,"
Alex commented, laughing.
"Oh, the hell with the both of you," grumbled Mulder, feeling out of sorts.
"So, can I interest either of you with a hole in the ice out back?" Walter
asked, still hankering to go outside and fish.
"Yeah, sure—I'm game," Alex said.
Mulder shook his head. "Sorry, guys. I've got some things to do."
Sitting outside on the frozen pond behind the house, Walter and Alex waited
with their lines hanging down into the black water through the hole Walter
had made. It was so bright outside they both had to wear shades; the glare
was considerable. Even with the sunglasses on, the world was still crystal
white from the sun reflecting off the snow.
"I think Mulder is wrong," Alex commented finally. "Sex takes the edge off
and relieves the tension that starts to build up. If he spent more time
fucking and less time fighting, he might not get so wound up."
Walter grimaced. "It was never an issue between us once we became an item.
We had a normal, well-adjusted relationship. You represent something of an
element of excitement and tension just by being here. But you're right.
Next time, I'll just insist that he fuck you."
"I didn't mean it quite like that."
"No, but I do. And don't think I won't make good on my new idea for
disciplining him; I fully intend to carry that out if he can't control
himself."
"Well, I guess my ass is grass then, isn't it?" Alex commented, dryly. "We
both know he isn't going to be able to control himself where my past is
concerned."
Walter looked over at him. "You can handle it, can't you? Aren't you
willing to do that, for him?"
Alex shrugged. "If you think it'll work, I'm willing to play along."
"I'm not playing," Walter pointed out.
"Didn't mean it that way," Alex rejoined, coolly.
Walter regarded him for a moment, not at all reassured by his expression.
"What is it?"
"It's just—" Alex broke off, not sure how to broach this subject. "I'm just
wondering how I'm supposed to go about joining in here. What do you two do
for Christmas?"
Relief surged through Walter. "Is that all? Make up a list and email it to
Peterson. He can have what you want sent over on the next chopper drop."
"Email it? What, have you got a satellite link?"
Walter gave a half-smile. "Supposedly. It works fine, just so long as the
sky is clear, like today. That's why Fox is inside while the sun shines.
Besides, he never really adapted to the outdoor life. He's willing to chop
wood and feed the animals, but that's about it. He never really got into
helping me walk the dogs."
Alex frowned. "I didn't realize you walked them?"
"They're in the kennel out back. I walk them in the evening. It would be
cruel to leave them in there all winter long without any exercise." Walter
gave him a funny look. The dogs hadn't been completely silent; he wondered
what was up with Alex. He'd have thought that Alex would be more aware of
his surroundings.
Alex shook his head. "I've only seen the chickens; I haven't met the dogs
yet though."
"Yeah, Malamutes and Siberian Huskies. They're beautiful. I'll introduce
you when we're through here. I walk them in the evening, although now that
the nights are so long and darkness falls so quickly, I tend to do it in the
late morning. You can help me walk them, if you'd like." He realized Alex
was distracted and he wondered if perhaps something deeper was gnawing at
Alex that could hold his attention to the point of distracting him from his
environment so completely. But Alex hadn't been there for very long. Give
him time, thought Walter.
As the sun climbed towards noon and then slipped over the zenith, they
managed to catch several big trout, enough to make a large supper. Then
Walter made good on his promise and showed Alex all the dogs, who went into
doggy paroxysms of joy at all the attention, showing their appreciation with
many wet swipes of their tongues.
The trout, as prepared by Walter, was excellent and they were all so bloated
and full after dinner that both Alex and Mulder protested at having to do
the dishes. But they made it through all right, finally repairing to sit
contentedly replete in the living room with the fire crackling.
It was so idyllic that Alex found himself drifting. He finally got up to go
look over the bookshelves. Mulder was trying not to watch him but ended up
doing so out of the corner of his eye. There was something alluring about
the way Alex moved; spare liquid movements that betrayed an animal grace,
and that were probably unconscious. And while Mulder watched Alex, Walter
watched both of them. Alex looked up at one point from his book to see
Mulder's eyes on him, only to have Mulder quickly look away, pretending he
had only just been glancing up...
Walter shook his head. The 'eye game'. It was building up to a peak, too;
no doubt later on there was going to be a crescendo at which point someone
was going to break.
Mulder was wondering if Walter would be up for another night like the one
before.
Alex tried to concentrate on reading but found he was going over the same
page again and again without taking in the words. He turned the page simply
because it had become embarrassing that he hadn't yet. He wondered if it
would be discourteous to ask or expect to be invited back into Walter's bed
with both of them. He had no right to expect it, but wanted nothing more
than to be there. Would they let him? Would they?
The tension grew so thick in the room that finally Walter put his book down,
chuckling. He kept chuckling until he burst out into a full belly laugh.
Taking off his glasses and wiping them, he said as both men regarded him
quizzically, "We could cut it with a knife, in here. Why don't we just get
it out into the open?"
Mulder smiled. "Well, I'm wondering how tired you are, Walt."
Walter glared at him with mock outrage. "I thought you didn't want me
playing up the 'tired old man' act?"
"Hey, if the shoe fits," snickered Mulder.
"Careful there, boy," growled Walter, "I can still put you over my knee."
"I'm so scared," taunted Mulder.
"What about you?" Walter directed at Alex, who sat quietly watching their
exchange.
Alex shrugged, nonchalantly, not fooling Walter for an instant. "I'll go
along with whatever you two decide."
"Yeah, right," scoffed Mulder. "You're a bottom-hog."
"Like you aren't," commented Walter.
"Walt? Do you feel we've been ignoring you?" Mulder said, a note of contrite
apology slipping into his voice.
"Not at all. I'm wondering if I shouldn't throw the two of you outside to
keep the dogs warm tonight. If I'm feeling my age, its because I'm having
to mediate your daily disputes."
Mulder turned to Alex. "I think we should take him upstairs, don't you?"
Alex smiled. "Absolutely. Yes."
"It's settled then," Mulder declared. "Come on, Walt. Get up. We're going
upstairs."
"Are you going to at least let me finish the page I was on?" Walter asked,
in a dry tone.
Mulder went to him, grabbed his book and put it down out of reach. "No.
You're coming with us." And with a wicked gleam in his eye, Mulder sank to
his knees in front of Walter and began nibbling at the button on the front
of his shirt, mouthing the next one down and moving slowly until he had
reached the button of his jeans. It was already undone. Looking up with a
sly grin, Mulder asked, "Have you had enough time to recover, or shall we
wait a while longer?"
"From dinner, or from last night?" Walter returned, reminding him that since
the introduction of Alex into their home, they were having sex almost twice
as frequently as before.
"Don't make me have to take these off you," Mulder said. "Or we're going to
have a hard time getting up the stairs."
"It'll be difficult enough as it is," pointed out Walter, who indeed was
already quite hard from Mulder's mouth on him through his clothing.
"Alex? If you could precede us, please? And deal with the lights and the
fire, and whatnot?" Mulder seemed bent on getting Walter upstairs come hell
or high water.
Alex suppressed a chuckle and tended to the fire, turned off the lights and
then went upstairs to Walter's bedroom, to turn back the covers and get
undressed. He slid gratefully in the dark between the sheets, glad that he
was welcome for a second time.
By the time Mulder and Walter made it up the stairs and into the room, they
were already in a disheveled and undressed state, tearing off items of
clothing that were barely hanging off them.
Walter ended up on his back in the middle of the bed with both Alex and
Mulder vying for his cock, both of their mouths on him. Pretty soon it had
become a game, which of them could do something that would arouse him
further. Every time Walter started getting close though, Mulder would
indicate to Alex that they should stop, and they'd back off, leaving Walter
groaning and breathless. Finally, he was begging them to finish it. Alex
let Mulder go down on him fully then, and inched his way upwards to kiss
Walter passionately, their tongues sliding eagerly against each other.
Mulder had slid two slicked fingers into Walter and was sucking him expertly
in just the way he liked until he came—shuddering as he thrust into
Mulder's mouth and yelling while Alex continued to kiss and lick at his
neck, his shoulder and then his throat.
With Alex snuggled up to him on his right and Mulder clasped against his
left, Walter said in a satisfied voice, "Thanks. That was great. That was
really wonderful."
"We're just getting started. Just tell us what you want, and your wish is
our command," Mulder murmured against him.
"God, you'll spoil me," Walter said, grinning. "And it isn't even Christmas
yet. I'll tell you what I'd really like but I need both your cooperation on
this."
They waited. Until finally Mulder said, impatiently, "Well, come on! What
is it?"
"I want both of you here, every night, just like this. Even if we don't do
anything. Just... to be here. Think we can manage that?"
Walter waited, wondering if this suggestion was too much for both of them.
"Fox? What do you think?"
Mulder swallowed in the dark and said, "It's fine with me." The way he let
his voice trail off though with that, it was apparent that it was up to
Alex.
Walter turned to Alex and planted a kiss on the nearest part of him—which
turned out to be his ear, for Alex was lying with his face tilted upwards.
"Alex?" Walter instinctively tightened his hold on him.
But Alex merely returned the pressure, as though returning his hug.
"Alright. If that's what you really want."
But he wasn't fooling Walter, who knew he wanted this more than anything.
He was tempted to put Alex in the middle again but realized Alex would
probably not appreciate having to be the focus of so much attention so soon;
he obviously felt self-conscious about it. So—
Walter turned to Mulder and said, "It's your turn then, isn't it?"
"You can't be ready to go again, so soon," Mulder said, not meaning to
insult him but clearly surprised.
"No, I'm not, but you can help me get that way. Sit up." Feeling like he
was directing a porn film, Walter started giving commands. "Alex, you get
behind Fox—and take this; put it on." He handed him the lube. "Then get
him ready. Fox, you stay like that, on your knees." Walter got up and
faced him, taking him into his arms and kissing him warmly, flicking lightly
at his lips before sliding his tongue between them. Mulder's lips; full and
ripe, there was something irresistible about kissing them. He never ceased
to be amazed at how merely kissing Mulder could turn him on so quickly.
He'd just come and yet here he was, hardening even as Mulder's fully aroused
member rubbed against his own, their tongues tangling, the taste of Fox
filling his mouth, his senses. And then the way Fox's breath caught in his
throat and he sensuously rubbed up against Walter, and then moved
backwards...
Alex had slid a single, well-coated finger right up inside Mulder's asshole,
loving the way it gripped and rippled around him. The tight heat of that
channel filled him with reverence and impatient wonder; he wanted to be
inside of him as quickly as possible. The way Mulder was moving back
against him left no doubt that he wanted more. Alex obliged, sliding a
second finger inside of him now, feeling for his prostate. The way Mulder
cried out and gasped, twisting back and moving to impale himself harder on
Alex's hand made Alex smile in triumph. And he found himself wishing yet
again that he had both hands, so he could do justice to this act; so he
could touch him in both places at once, both his cock and his ass.
Then Walter was turning, letting go of Mulder to face away from him, moving
to the pillows and getting on his stomach. "Alex, bring him over here,"
Walter called.
Alex obeyed, with his fingers still inside Mulder, Mulder crawling over to
where Walter waited for him. Mulder got into position over Walter, between
his legs. Alex now reached for more lube, squeezing a generous amount
haphazardly onto his hand. Reaching out in the dark, he found Mulder's cock
and began greasing him up. Mulder hissed and thrust hard against his hand.
Alex had to remember not to close his fist too tightly; he didn't want to
give Mulder a hand-job right here and make him lose it too quickly.
Then, helping to guide him forward to Walter's ass, Alex ran his slicked
hand all along Walter's crack, getting him ready. Mulder then slid partially
into him, the act eliciting a considerable gasp from Walter and an
open-mouthed moan from Mulder.
Alex moved to place himself behind Mulder then, and felt for Mulder's ass
once more, placing the tip of his own slippery cock against him, he sank in
a few inches. Oh God, to be fucking Fox Mulder. And so soon after the
night before. Tight, hot heaven and the combined magical sounds of both of
them before him as he slid home, penetrating him all the way, balls-deep.
The white core of pleasure in his brain was going to explode... Christ.
Mulder pushed back against him and as Alex pulled out a few inches only to
slide back in, hard, he ended up pushing Mulder forwards into Walter, making
Walter call out under both of them.
They began to fall into a natural rhythm, Alex and Mulder would pull back
and then both would thrust forward again; repeating this was easy and smooth
and it became a dance. An eager, hard-working dance where all parties found
it difficult to maintain an even poise, yet were able to find a measure of
abandonment in the act itself. They lost themselves in the pure sensation
of fucking, of being fucked, until it climbed to a point where Walter
couldn't hold back anymore, and he came with a wordless shout, his semen
spattering on Mulder's chest, on his own, even flecks landing on his chin.
This set off Mulder, Walter bearing down hard on his cock and the added
penetration of Alex impaling him from behind and over-stimulating his magic
spot was too much and he groaned loud and long as he shot hard into Walter's
hot depths. Alex felt Mulder release and then finally let go himself,
fucking Mulder hard, fast and deep, over and over, letting himself get lost
in the sheer joy of being inside him.
Somehow, they managed to arrange themselves in some sort of sleeping
position. Alex had the presence of mind afterwards to get warm, wet towels
and help them all to clean up. Limbs entangled happily together, in the
dark, they left the world outside, blissfully falling into a natural sleep.
And so began the real beginning of the truce, for in the days that followed,
under threat of having Alex punished in his place, Mulder, to his credit,
refrained from losing control and remembered to not get snippy. It helped
having all three in the same bed; it afforded not only a measure of sexual
comfort and security to all three to have the situation resolved this way,
but it also enabled all of them to feel as though no one was being left out.
Alex's nightmares seemed to abate; it seemed that being in the company of
others helped to stave them off.
The snow was there to stay as well. Yet more snow was dumped on them, and
the occasional aurora party was held, with Mulder keeping a watchful eye on
the space weather news online so they would have ample warning.
The days slipped by and before long, Christmas was approaching. There was
one more chopper drop, as Walter had said there would be. Each of them bore
secretive parcels to their own rooms; no one spoke of it but it was tacitly
evident what they were.
A week before Christmas, Walter had gone outside and chopped down a suitable
tree to erect in the living room. Mulder went out to the sheds and retrieved
a set of Christmas decorations. He and Alex sat preparing them when Walter
brought the tree in. It was a big tree; the top brushed the ceiling.
Later that afternoon, Alex went for a walk; a pastime he had adopted early
on. He had made it a personal endeavor to explore their locale in every
direction. So far, he'd managed to familiarize himself with just about
every landmark hill and forest turn in their vicinity. He took great
delight in the wild, empty beauty of the surrounding wilderness, while
relishing every return to the warm home with his two lovers within. It was
the best of both worlds, and every day was like a reprieve from the life he
had known before. It felt surreal, out of time; like a holiday. He still
had a hard time accepting the reality of it all, for even now it felt like a
dream to him. He loved going out; he loved coming back even more.
Today though, as he came inside, brushing the snow off his boots and
removing his coat, he couldn't help but see the pensive expression that
Mulder wore. Alex took off his boots and went to sit down. Mulder was
nibbling the last of the sunflower seeds in the bowl. Sitting down next to
him, he indicated them. "You've managed to finish all these off in record
time, Mulder."
Mulder merely grunted, and reached out to snag another handful. "We've got
problems."
A cold shaft of worry suddenly settled in Alex's stomach at those words.
"What?"
Mulder nibbled away. "Scully's coming to visit."
"Fucking hell. Is that all?" Alex sank back into the couch, flopping
backwards with relief. "Mulder, for God's sake! I thought it was something
bad."
"It is. She doesn't have any idea that you're here."
Alex gave him a look, one that Mulder didn't see as he was sitting forward
leaning on his knees while he nibbled his way through the seeds. "Mulder,
why is that a problem?"
Mulder threw him with a dubious glance, over his shoulder. "She barely coped
with the knowledge that Walter and I were together. How do you think she's
going to react hearing that not only are you here, but you're sleeping with
both of us?"
"I don't know, maybe she'll be jealous?" Alex was flippant. "How long is
she going to be here?"
"She and Peterson are both going to land here tomorrow afternoon and stay
for a couple of days, then return home in time to be with their families for
Christmas."
"I still fail to see the problem."
Mulder turned to face him with a frown. "Alex, Walter and I may have
forgiven you for—for the past, but Scully doesn't know anything about this
and..."
"And you're uncomfortable with her knowing that you're sleeping with two men
now, rather than one," Alex said, knowingly, prudently deciding not to point
out to Mulder that if she was married, she was hardly 'Scully' anymore, and
that it wasn't Scully who had a problem with Mulder's gay relationships, it
was Mulder himself.
"Not just another man, Alex. You."
"So? So what?"
"I just—I don't know. Maybe... it would be a good idea for you to stay in
your own room while she's here. She knows Walter and I are together
already; she could stay in my room and Peterson could stay down here, in the
living room. You know, Peterson has never stayed here before, either."
Feeling stung and yet not really knowing why, after all Mulder did have a
point, Alex said stiffly, "Why are you ashamed for other people to know
about us? About me?"
"Come on, that's not what I mean. Think about it, Alex! In the interest of
discretion, if nothing else."
Alex smiled grimly. "So it's not shameful, it's indiscreet."
Mulder turned to face him squarely. "This really isn't the time to throw a
fit. We've got bigger problems. And I would've thought you'd understand my
concern. We're not living in some kind of fairytale here, as inconvenient
as it might be for you to have to face that right now."
Alex got to his feet and stared down at Mulder, coldly. "Well, can't have
Dana thinking we're a bunch of fairies now, can we?"
"And just what is that supposed to mean?" Mulder gritted out, matching his
glare.
"I'm not ashamed of loving you," Alex stated.
"That's not what this is about. If you stopped thinking about yourself
here, you'd understand that."
"I think it is. I think it is about me. Maybe if I wasn't here for the
duration of their visit, you wouldn't be so inconvenienced by the shame of
having to explain why two men might love you so much, or find you so
desirable that they enjoy sleeping with you every night." And he walked
away, going upstairs to his room and shutting the door. Thinking it over, he
locked it a few moments later.
He wasn't even hurt; he was too angry to feel hurt. It was a novel feeling.
He hadn't felt rage like this in a long time. He was furious, and it
burned through his whole body like a cold flame. If he were less
controlled, he might have thrown things or destroyed furniture. He was
certainly hard-pressed not to smash the window. The satisfying sound of
breaking glass at the moment would be partially soothing, he was sure.
Seething, he forced himself to sit down in the chair beside the bed and
think. Calmly. Mulder was partly right. It was a sham; their little
situation here was nothing more than a decision all three had made to live
amicably together and share chores while having sex in the evenings and
sleeping in the same bed for mutual warmth and comfort. It was nothing more
than that, and actually Alex had long held the deeply hidden suspicion that
it would take nothing more than this—an incursion from the outside world—
to remind them of the truth of their situation. A distant part of his
conscience kept saying that he should talk to Walter before doing anything
else, but it didn't stop the rage at Mulder's insufferable attitude and
paranoia, and it certainly didn't answer the problem of what to do when Dana
and Peterson arrived. And it certainly didn't change the fact that he was
nothing more than a tolerated presence here—at least mostly on Mulder's
part—and that he was being used for sex. They were mutually using each
other. What the hell—How had that happened, anyway? Since when had he
managed to convince himself that it was anything else? He was a romantic
idiot; he should have known that he was only allowing himself to be talked
into this in the first place.
Bitterly, he knew the only solution was to pack up his things and leave. It
would certainly save recriminations, emotional scenes and more painful
discussions later on. He really didn't relish yet another long scene with
Walter, one in which he ended up being talked into the one thing he wanted— against all better judgment. It was his one weakness: the promise of home,
warmth, friendship and love. It was all too good to be true, of course.
Home is what we make it, he thought. Had he merely been kidding himself in
believing that Mulder might really accept him here? He began wondering if he
had enough fuel in the car and thinking of what he would need to survive the
cold journey.
Walter came in from outside, from the storeroom where he'd gone to retrieve
extra food to stock up for the visit. When he toed off his boots and
shuffled into the kitchen to lay down his burdens, he took off his fogged-up
glasses to clean them. Putting the food away in the fridge and the cans on
the shelves in the pantry, he went back into the living room. Mulder was
sitting on the couch, eating his way grimly through the sunflower seeds,
almost compulsively. He'd nearly finished the bowl.
"Fox? Are you alright?" Walter sat down in his big chair, putting his feet
up on the little stool in front of it.
Mulder shrugged, noncommittally.
Walter regarded him suspiciously. And sighed. "Look, they won't be here
for very long. We owe them at least a couple days. Peterson's been more
than helpful and Dana—"
"It's not that. What about Alex?"
"What about him?" Walter was nonplussed.
"Scully doesn't know he's here."
Walter stared at him, wondering what was addling his brain this time.
"Peterson will tell her. You think he won't? He's bound to."
Mulder stared at him. "Oh, no."
"What? Fox, come on. What is it? This is hardly a calamitous event."
"I didn't even think about—Walt, how are we going to explain what he's
doing here?"
"What's to explain?" Walter countered, wondering why this was such an issue
in the first place. "He came here for sanctuary; we gave it to him. Hey,
to err is human and to forgive, divine. We did the right thing: he was
nearing the end of his road. That's all there is to it. Everything else is
self-explanatory."
"Is it? Even the part about him sharing the big bed upstairs in your room?
With both of us?"
The glimmerings of what was going on began to grow clear now. "Is that
what's bothering you? She doesn't have to know about that. It doesn't
concern her. And even if she suspects it, as long as we play it cool, it
doesn't really matter does it?"
Mulder shot him a disparaging look. "Come on, Walt. We're talking about
Dana, here. You can't hide anything from her."
"Hm, you have a point, there. But I fail to see what there is to panic
about. It's really none of her business." He took in Mulder's scowl and
defensive posture. More gently, he said, "You're worried about what she'll
think of you, aren't you? What she'll say." He shook his head. "Fox, I
have to ask. Why are you ashamed about it?"
Mulder closed his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe—maybe I spent so long
denying the truth of it to myself that I'm still not comfortable sharing it
with the rest of the world, you know?"
Walter considered this. And then nodded, slowly. "You're right. We can
make other arrangements, for the two nights they'll be here, okay? Has Alex
come back yet? We should talk this over with him; let him know that we'll
have to play it cool for a couple of days."
"He's upstairs, I think."
Mulder's flat reply set off a warning bell in Walter, who threw him a sharp
look. "Did you speak to him when he came in?"
Mulder didn't look at him. "Yeah. I told him we had a problem; that Scully
and Peterson were coming. He doesn't seem to agree that discretion is
appropriate, let alone required, under the circumstances."
Walter leaned forward with a heavy sigh, putting his face in his hands for a
few moments, before looking up tiredly at Mulder. "What the hell did you
say to him? Please tell me I'm not going to have another full-blown crisis
with you two again?"
Mulder stiffly glared at him, defensively. "I tried to tell him exactly
what you said: that he should stay in his room while they're here, and I
would give my room to Scully, and we should cool it... so that they wouldn't
suspect anything. He got upset that I was suggesting I was ashamed to be
involved with him. He seems to think that the whole thing's focused on him;
that he's the central problem and that everything revolves around him. He
thinks that we're throwing him out of the bed and that I'm ashamed to have
him here. Then he stomped upstairs."
Walter shot him a look. "Can you tell me, honestly, that nothing you said
to him might have hurt his feelings or made him feel justified in believing
that what he was saying was true?"
Mulder paused, thinking back over what they'd said. "Yeah. He seemed to
take everything I said out of context. When I said it wasn't about him, he
took it as though I was implying he was being self-centered, I think. And
then said everything was about him. And when I said we weren't living in a
fairytale, he said it wouldn't do for Dana to think we were a bunch of
fairies."
"And you said all this without even a hint of sarcasm, huh?" Walter said,
his own tone laced with it. "Fox, you know how sensitive he is about our
relationship. I think you really could have been more tactful, or else he
wouldn't have gone upstairs in the first place."
"It's not my fault!" Mulder exclaimed, raising his voice. "Why do you
always take his side?! Why do you always defend him? I thought he was
supposed to be the Consortium villain, not me. Maybe I'm wrong, but wasn't
he our enemy for so many years? I'm sorry, Walt, but I can't just explain
to Dana that we took him in and decided to fuck him because he was pretty.
Somehow I don't think that will cut it."
"Considering how you're talking to me right now, I can see why Alex went
upstairs. I'm nearly there, myself. Fox, this doesn't have to be a problem
unless you make it one. I'm not taking his side; I just don't see the
necessity of treating him like an enemy when he's given us every indication
that he wants to cooperate and actually has real feelings for both of us. I
think you're conveniently forgetting that this isn't about sex at all; or
having him in our bed upstairs. He loves you."
But Mulder didn't want to be pacified or talked down. "That doesn't change
what he is! Just because he says he loves us doesn't make what he did
disappear, it doesn't change the fact that he—" Mulder ran dry, realizing
what he was about to say.
And Walter relentlessly finished it for him. "Shot your father. Killed
people... He hurt you and those close to you. You can't forgive him for
that." Walter got up and sat down close to Mulder, pulling him into his
arms. Holding him tightly, he noticed absently that Mulder had begun to
shake slightly. "Fox, my Fox. Listen, people change. People can change. I
believe that he is truly sorry, that he regrets what happened. I think he
felt his back was against the wall and he had no other options. If he had
tried to get out before he betrayed you, they would have killed him. I
honestly think he believes that. No amount of self-justification on his
part changes what he did and no one is more aware of that than he is. I
know he did what he could on his own side, from where he stood in it all,
throughout it all. Some of the things he did were truly horrible, but in
some twisted, strange way, I believe he was acting from the best part of
himself, thinking of the good of the whole." Mulder had only tensed in his
grasp though.
Walter continued, "It's only his capacity for love that has saved him, do
you know that? If he didn't love us, there wouldn't be any hope for him.
But he does, and so he is worth the effort. No one is asking you to forget
what he's done, but I'm asking you now, do you care? Do you care that he
loves you?" When Mulder didn't reply, Walter added, "If you don't, we can
let him go. If you really can't handle him living here, he can leave with
Dana and Peterson when they go, alright?"
Miserably, Mulder said, into Walter's chest, "I don't know. I don't know!"
Wearily, Walter asked, "Do you believe that he loves you?"
Quietly, Mulder said, "Yeah. Yeah, I do. But that doesn't make it all
better. It doesn't undo what's been done."
"Fox, have you bothered to talk to him at all, about this? Or have you been
keeping it all locked up inside again?"
Mulder gave a short bark of laughter. It was unhinged, and tinged with
self-mockery and anger. "Been keeping it locked up."
Walter rubbed his back. "I want you to think about this very carefully.
Alright? We have to sort this out before tomorrow, before they arrive. I
want you to decide once and for all, whether or not you want Alex here.
Because if you can't stand having him around, there's no way we can make
this work. You're ashamed to accept his love. You don't believe he
deserves your love. Right?"
Mulder grimaced and held onto to Walter. "I'm sorry," he said miserably.
"I can't just ignore it. I can't just gloss it over."
"So talk it over instead. I'm not going to do it. Only you can do it. Go
upstairs and talk to him. Either way, sort it out. I don't care at this
point what you do or say. If he leaves, then he leaves. Just be sure it's
what you want, okay?" Walter held him back a bit and looked him in the eye.
Mulder sat up and sighed. "Alright." He got to his feet.
When he'd slowly made it to the second stair, Walter said, "Once and for
all, Fox. Please? No more scenes."
Mulder just nodded. He trudged up the stairs, thinking hard about nothing,
trying to gather his thoughts but unable to do so.
Alex was packing, furiously, methodically. He had opened the door some time
ago and had listened to the entire exchange. He'd be damned if he was going
to remain to be their toy, a lovesick fool, at the mercy of Mulder's
emotional state and his violent ups and downs. He'd been kidding himself,
desperate to believe that this whole thing was real. It was a fucking joke.
Walter would never force Mulder, couldn't force Mulder, to love him.
And Walter certainly wasn't going to give Mulder up for Alex. And Mulder
couldn't love him... So what the hell was he still here for? It had been a
nice dream. He'd remember every day he'd spent here with them since he had
arrived, forever. At this point though, all he wanted was to get out and
leave this emotional minefield behind.
Dangerous, stupid and eminently impractical, to search for peace and
retirement with the two men in the world who most challenged his emotions,
who remained his weakest, most vulnerable points... He'd been unable to
look a gift horse in the mouth, to discover both of them here in this
beautiful retreat. But it had turned out to be a Trojan Horse, loaded with
pain and unsubtle hints that he was considered less than human, less than
worthy of forgiveness or compassion by a certain Fox Mulder. The man who
who had haunted his dreams and hopes and fears for longer than he could
remember—
The knock on his door, though expected, brought him down out of his thoughts
with a swift jolt, the sound sharply cutting through whatever residual
self-pity he'd been indulging in while packing. The cold anger still burned
throughout him, giving him the impetus he needed to ignore the knocking.
"Alex? Can I come in?" Mulder's monotone voice simply didn't affect him
like it usually did, perhaps because Alex was so furious at being treated
like an inhuman creature that he had finally had enough. Alex snorted to
himself, inaudibly, and ignored him, redoubling his efforts at packing. It
didn't really take all that long—he owned very little.
"Alex?"
He would wait until they were both unawares, either upstairs or out, and
then he would collect what he needed from downstairs and leave.
"Alex, I know you're in there. Please, we need to talk."
Alex regarded the window. And his eyes narrowed. No, it was far too cold.
Maybe he could go ahead and—no, he'd never make it. He'd freeze to death.
No. He was going to have to play along with this and wait until early
morning. He sighed and sat down on the bed. Right. Whatever happened, he
had to remember not to believe it.
"Alex? Come on, open the door. I promise, no fighting. I just want to
talk."
He found himself effortlessly slipping into the schooled indifference to
Mulder that he'd learned from years of painful encounters. And discovered
that it really fit well; like an old, well-worn pair of jeans. It wasn't
that hard at all. After all, what was the point of continuously imagining
that Mulder had any real feelings for him beyond hatred and disgust? Mulder
never had gotten over his physical desires. The constant seesaw between
hatred and desire where Alex himself was concerned was a reminder that
Mulder had deep-seated issues about his own sexuality. Alex was no longer
willing to be his whipping boy; he was tired of having to be the recipient
of Mulder's projections.
Mulder's voice started to gain a little note of desperation. "Come on, Alex.
Please. Let me in. Please?"
Alex went to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open abruptly to reveal
Mulder standing there with a curiously shamefaced and yet simultaneously
obstinate expression. Alex regarded him coolly.
"Can I come in? Just to talk, I promise."
Alex stood back and let Mulder enter, shutting the door behind him and going
back to his suitcase, putting it on the floor on the other side of the bed.
Mulder didn't miss this and winced, followed by an expression of tired
regret. "I'm sorry. I freaked out and struck out at you. I'm really
sorry, Alex."
"No, you aren't. You didn't take it out on me. I took everything you said
out of context," stated Alex with very little inflection at all.
Mulder pressed his lips together, thinking. "I was hard on you; I panicked
and I was taking it out on you."
"You don't love me; you can't love the man who killed your father and
countless others—you still think of me as your enemy. So I'm here for
the sex. Regardless of how good it is, I'm not willing to be your whore,
your sex toy. It's no wonder you panicked; you suddenly came face to face
with the truth—which is often unpleasant. You can't stand the fact that
you're sleeping—and sharing Walter—with a man you hate, someone who
fills you with shame and revulsion." Alex stated all of this calmly.
Which scared Mulder; it was so like the Alex Krycek he had known so
recently, not at all like the sweet, vulnerable and quiet lover they'd been
living with all these weeks. He began to wonder if maybe Alex had been
playing them all this time—and then inwardly shook himself. That wasn't
possible. No one could fake the way Alex obviously felt for him. For it
was true, Alex was in love with him, that much Mulder believed. Which meant
he was simply hurting right now. Mulder took a breath. "Look, Alex, I can't
help being unable to forgive your past actions. You know that. But I don't
consider you our whore. My whore. I don't."
Alex smiled coldly at him. "Doesn't change the fact that you really don't
like me very much. I'm still your father's killer, aren't I?"
Mulder was pacing the floor and his face began to crumple with misery. "I
don't know what to say to you. I want you, and I can't help wanting you.
But I also can't help it that you—that you're the man who—"
"Mulder, it's out of your hands now. It isn't up to you. I'm going. It's
my decision, not yours." Alex said this with his still placid, calm manner.
Mulder slowly turned and looked him in the eye. "You're leaving?" he asked,
almost unable to really believe it.
"Look, it's clear that you can't handle my presence here. I think this
little incident has proven that I've overstayed my welcome."
Slowly, Mulder replied, "And I'm supposed to believe that you really love
me, have real feelings for me?"
"At this point, Mulder, I really don't give a fuck what you believe." At
Mulder's half-angry, half-stricken reaction to his words, Alex added with a
knowing, mirthless smile, "I know I tried. I gave it my best shot. You're
a hard man to convince, Fox. But, well, let's just say I've decided that
I'm worth more than your opinion of me."
Safe in the security of knowing that Alex was in love with him, Mulder
hadn't even considered the possibility that he'd actually leave. And being
told quite frankly to his face that this was precisely what was going to
happen, Mulder felt the sting of betrayal once more. He swallowed, for it
seemed to hurt twice as much as the first time. That original realization
that Alex Krycek had betrayed him had made him more angry than hurt... For
some reason it was painful this time.
Maybe because part of his conscience was screaming that this time, it had
been Mulder himself who had done the hurting, who had caused it to happen?
He didn't know what to say. He found himself standing mutely; searching
Alex's familiar indifferent expression of 'not caring', wondering what
emotion was actually flowing beneath the surface. Something told him that
Alex had been pushed too far this time. This caused a flash to go through
him, much like a bucket of cold water over his head. He couldn't let him
go. He couldn't let it happen.
Alex tilted his head at him. "Are you through?"
Mulder stood still, staring at him, letting the knowledge that this might be
the last time he ever saw Alex sink into his mind. And the awful truth shot
through him like a painful electrocution. He did love him; he did love this
man. He always had. In fighting him, he was fighting himself. He had
never wanted to see it, but faced now with the autonomy that Alex possessed,
the ability to walk away and leave him once more; he realized this was what
he was actually afraid of. Shit, to have to be dragged to the edge of the
abyss before one realized what one was doing! The thought of losing Alex now
was too much. What could he do? Mulder found himself mentally, wildly,
holding up and instantly discarding a number of statements before finally
giving up completely and getting down on both knees where he'd been
standing.
Kneeling there, with a repentant manner and a hollow voice, Mulder
entreated, "Please don't leave me, Alex. I know I deserve it; I know I
haven't treated you right. But please, let me make it up to you. Give me
one more chance, I beg you."
Alex was taken aback. He hadn't expected this. Mulder sounded so sincere,
looked so sincere. He blinked.
Mulder saw the little crack in Alex's expression, the slight uncertainty,
and jumped on its heels. "Alex, I swear I'll be different with you. I
didn't realize it until now but I've loved you from the beginning, I've just
been trying to deny it. To myself. But I won't deny it anymore, not to
myself, and not to anyone else. I love you; I do. I love you." And he
trailed off, not really knowing what else to say, watching Alex miserably
with a lump in his throat and his heart in his mouth. "Please," he
whispered.
Alex's eyes glimmered and he found himself brushing away tears despite
himself. "You—" His voice stuck in his throat. "You make it so damn hard,
every time! Why—" a sob choked him, interrupting him, "why can't you just
let me go? Why are you doing this to me?" And he turned away, overcome,
facing the wall and the darkening window. Damn it, why was he crying?
Why?! And why couldn't he stop? It was kind of frightening. He hated
Mulder for making him feel this way. First plunging him into despair and
anger, then sending him through the wringer again, appealing to his heart,
turning his love for Mulder against him and making him feel like he was the
one who had caused the pain.
Mulder got up and went to him. He pulled Alex close to him, sitting down
beside him with his arms around him. Holding him close, unable to help his
own tears, he said fiercely, hoarsely, "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm sorry. Please
forgive me. Don't leave me. I love you. Stay with me. I love you."
Dissolving at this, Alex just clung to him, his face pressed against him,
soaking his shirt with tears, making little shudders every now and again.
Feeling exactly as though he had been kicking a small animal, Mulder held
him tightly, stroking him and whispering over and over, "I love you. Don't
go. I love you."
"I can't keep doing this," Alex said into his chest, his heart breaking as
he tried to stop the tears from coming but they just kept flowing. Like a
damned leaky faucet that he couldn't turn off. He was so tired; so sick and
tired of it all. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"You won't have to," promised Mulder, rocking him slightly in his arms. "I
promise. I give you my word, Alex. Please don't go. You won't have to do
this ever again. I love you."
Alex gave a small laugh through his tears. "Keep saying that and I might
start to believe you."
"Yeah?" Mulder said, quietly. "I love you, I love you, I love you. How's
that?" He stroked Alex's face. "I love you, Alex."
They sat like that for a long while. Finally, Alex pulled away from him,
wiping his face and reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table.
With a slight smile, he offered one to Mulder.
"So I'm forgiven?" Mulder asked lightly, unable to hide the worry in his
voice.
Alex nodded. "Of course. You know, Walter's downstairs, worrying about us.
We should go down."
"You're right. Okay." Mulder finally found relief coloring his reply.
They gathered themselves up, Alex quickly going to the bathroom to wash his
face, before joining Mulder on the landing and following him downstairs.
Walter sat there, reading. He looked up, taking in their war-torn faces.
"I take it there's a détente, once more? The heavens are peaceful again?"
"No more storms," answered Mulder. "A clear sky, from here on out."
Walter was regarding Alex.
Alex shrugged. "Hey, who can resist him? He's very persuasive."
Walter sighed. "I'm glad to hear that. I've got an idea. Let's repair to
the kitchen. I'll make us some soup." He put down his book and got up,
stretching. "We can make plans on how to deal with our guests."
Later that night, they slept peacefully in each other's arms, in the comfort
of each other's presence; Walter in the middle with Mulder and Alex on
either side. None of them had felt like doing anything but cuddling, almost
desperately, since they had discussed that, really, the best thing was for
Alex to remain in his own bedroom for the next couple of days over the
duration of the visitation.
In the morning, Mulder awoke and yawned, turning his head and seeing Walter
beside him. He lifted his head. Alex wasn't there. Alex had been rising
earlier and earlier these days; he often made breakfast. He seemed to take
great delight in it. Usually they awoke from the smells as they drifted
upstairs.
Today the absence of the smell of breakfast was noticeable. Wondering if the
driveway was icy still, despite the salt they had put down the previous
morning, Mulder dressed in his sweats, hoping he could go for a jog.
The house was quiet and still. In the living room, on the coffee table
between their seats, he saw a white, folded piece of paper. Picking it up,
he read it.
Dear Walter and Fox,
I know this is hardly fair, to do it like this, but you are both too
convincing. You're too hard to talk to, and I know you'll talk me out of
it. I think I've overstayed my welcome. You've made yourselves a little
paradise here and for a while, I was lucky enough to be able to enjoy it
with you. I will never forget it and will always be grateful that you made
a space for me in it. You let me share your lives for a time, and I'll
always remember it, always.
You were right though, Fox. I don't really deserve to have it. Please don't
blame yourselves for my leaving. I realized that it is actually selfish of
me to remain. And I wouldn't be able to handle either of you asking me to
leave. This is eventually, inevitably, what would end up happening, so I
guess what I'm doing is merely doing it for you, before you had to make that
decision.
You said that people change, Walter. Maybe you're right. But I can't change
myself far enough to make myself worthy of either of you. A leopard can't
change its spots. And none of us can change the past. Whatever you may
think after I've gone, please know that I didn't leave to make a statement
or to get back at you in any way. I simply don't want to have to go through
the pain of being told to go. And whatever either of you might say about
that, I know that it is the ultimate eventuality if I stay.
I love you both, and I hope that you will be well. Thank you for everything
you did for me. It was far, far more than I ever could have hoped for.
Love,
Alex
When Walter had showered and wandered down the stairs in search of coffee
and breakfast, he found Mulder sitting dully on the couch, unspeaking.
Mulder handed him the letter without a word.
After reading it, Walter was angry; he was more than angry, he was livid.
"This is unacceptable."
"It's his decision, Walt." Mulder was quiet and subdued.
Walter continued, as if he hadn't heard him, "Someone will end up tracking
him down. He's not safe yet; he hasn't been out of the loop long enough.
We'll have to do it first, try to be the first to get to him. And you can
bet that if we can find him, others will too."
Mulder heaved a sigh. "Walt, it's my fault he left. Just—let him go.
He's right. It was too painful for him."
Walter shot him a look. "It won't be the same without him. You realize
that, don't you? Fox, he was always there, always. You've wanted him from
the beginning; he's been between us for years. When he arrived, it simply
completed it. You've always kept a place inside for him, I know you have.
And this just made it clear." Walter was shaking his head. He got up,
slowly walking about the room, thinking. "I might be able to get Peterson
to talk to Nadia Vervette. She's got contacts in the CIA as well as the NSA.
Hell, she's pretty much connected with every—"
"It's—look, it's not up to us," Mulder cut in, sharply. "If he wants to
be found, we'll find him. Otherwise, we won't. And right now, I don't
think he wants to be found." His voice softened. "At least we have each
other. He's on his own."
"Well, he shouldn't have left. It was stupid; a stupid thing to do.
Thoughtless. Not only are we going to worry about him now, he's run off in
a state of despair and wounded pride, as well as self-pity. There wasn't
any need for that. We could've talked it over."
"You keep avoiding it. Why? Are you afraid I can't handle it, Walter?
Come on!" Mulder said, loudly. "It's my fault he left. I drove him away."
Walter looked down at him and snorted scornfully. "If you want to sit there
and wallow in self-castigation and despair, you go right ahead. But I'm
going to find him. I warned him; I did. No matter where he goes, I'm going
to track him down. Read that letter again, and tell me I'm wrong: he's
running away from it, running from us because he knows that we're the only
thing in the world that he's vulnerable to. Because he has real feelings
for us. For you, in particular."
"You love me, Walt! Don't you? If you love me so much, why the hell are
you willing to go off, running around the world looking for him, and drag
him back here kicking and screaming?" Mulder shouted. "He's competition,
for God's sake!"
Walter raised his brows along with his voice. "Are you saying you don't
want him back?"
"If he wants to come back, he will."
"He doesn't think he's welcome!"
"That's his problem. If he didn't believe me last night, he never will."
Walter had nothing to say to that, and finally went into the kitchen to make
a cup of coffee. He wondered how many hours lead-time Alex had. He glanced
at the clock. Damn it; a good six hours, if not more. He glowered as he
sat at the kitchen table. The bastard had managed to make himself right at
home here, in both their hearts, regardless of Fox's juvenile conflicted
issues over him. Now that he'd gone, the house felt... Empty.
For the first time in many years, Walter felt old.
Ten days and fourteen airports later, Alex sat in a remote hotel lounge,
watching the sun rise. It was golden and full, yet it didn't fill the empty
space inside him. If anything, it only reminded him of how alone he was.
The only thing that gave him peace was the knowledge that somewhere,
thousands of miles away, the same sun rose and set on a home in a beautiful
wilderness, on a big warm bed, on two men who had each other, on two hearts
that he loved.
Winter
lex opened his eyes in the bright light streaming in from the window.
Sunlight—made all the brighter by its reflection off of the snow covering
the ground outside. The sound of soft breathing next to him made him turn
his head and a slow smile crept over his face. Fox. A sleeping Fox, at
that. The pure indulgence and contentment of watching Fox breathe as he
slept warmed Alex from the inside out. The sunlight falling on Fox's skin
gave him an entirely edible appearance: the man had a burnished glow about
him that was nearly irresistible. Alex sighed, happily. He raised his head
higher. Wow; Walter was still here too. He'd woken before either of them
this time. They both looked so peaceful.
