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Stealing Alex by Lorelei on't go." Alex hunched his shoulders slightly against the two soft words as though they were a weapon. He holstered his Glock, nestling it in the small of his back, his face a smooth expressionless mask. "I have to." Three words, spoken without emotion. Green eyes flickered almost imperceptibly, then died like cooling embers. Skinner watched, his arms folded, as Alex picked up the snubnose .38 from the hall table and leaned down, sliding it into the custom-made holster hidden inside his boot. He reached for the hunting knife in its leather sheath. A large hand encircled his wrist. "Don't go," Skinner said again. "You don't have to do this anymore." Alex exhaled sharply and looked down, unwilling to meet Skinner's eyes, his jaw set in that way he had when he was trying not to let himself feel something. He swallowed hard before he spoke, his voice carefully neutral. "Don't, Skinner." Skinner's hand tightened on his wrist. Alex looked away, a flush of unwelcome emotion washing over him. That morning, lying quietly in the tangled bedsheets, Skinner's strong heartbeat in his ear, he had been Alex. But now he had a job to do, orders to follow. Now he had to be Krycek, had to put everything else away. Better for it to hurt a little now. Better than... "No, Alex," Skinner said quietly. "No more. It has to stop." Alex tried to turn away but Skinner's hand caught his chin, forcing Alex to look him in the eye. Alex caught Skinner's wrist, the heat of his skin under Alex's palm making him want to give anything just to turn time back, to be Alex for just a little longer. —Don't fucking do this to me. I can't do this.— Alex steeled himself. You can't let yourself think about what it would be like to stay, he told himself harshly. He doesn't understand, but you have no excuse. Disobey your masters and bad things happen. Alex turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against Skinner's fingers, the barest whisper of skin on skin. He closed his eyes, gathering strength. There had been enough bad things. "I have a job to do, Skinner," Alex said, making his tone hard, his eyes harder. "I have to go. Don't make this harder than it has to be." Skinner pressed closer, backing Alex up against the wall, one hand gripping Alex's shoulder, fisted in the black leather. Alex gasped as Skinner's crotch pressed against his, Skinner's other hand reaching down between them and squeezing Alex through the black jeans, hard enough to make him squirm. "Is that what I'm doing, Alex? Making it harder?" Skinner whispered in Alex's ear. Panting, his cheeks flushed, Alex twisted in Skinner's grasp, fighting even as his body craved submission. "Enough," he growled. "Let me go." Skinner moved in closer, pressing Alex hard against the wall, savoring the rough intake of breath as Alex tilted his head back, his legs spreading themselves wide even as he struggled to break Skinner's grip. "God..." Skinner gasped, his mouth on Alex's bare white throat, half-crazy with the wanting of him, this dark and dangerous half-wild thing, the smell of him, rain and leather and cordite, thin blood pounding just beneath the skin. Skinner raised his head, traced the line of Alex's jaw with his fingertips, pulling back as strong white teeth snapped at him. Fierce green eyes stared him down as an unmistakable smirk twisted that lush mouth. Such cruel beauty. Skinner touched Alex's jaw again, this time gripping it tightly, forcing his lips open. Skinner claimed Alex's mouth, his tongue plunging in, one muscular thigh jammed between Alex's legs, hard against his balls, should he be tempted again to bite. Alex stilled, groaning helplessly in spite of himself as Skinner plundered his mouth, tasting him, devouring him. Skinner released Alex, still keeping him pinned against the wall, watching as he struggled to regain control, those emerald cat's eyes narrowing, angry at his body's betrayal. His lips, swollen and wet, so pliant a moment ago, now curling into a snarl. "I'm leaving now, Skinner," Alex said tonelessly, finally succeeding in shoving Skinner aside. "Get the fuck out of my way." Skinner watched him, an odd expression on his face, his skin already mourning the loss of that delicious friction, that heat. He shook his head. What was the point of all this? A few hours here, a few hours there. Months in between with no word, no warning of his return until he appeared, silently, stepping out of the shadows like Narcissus' dark twin, some mythical creature who breathed only when Skinner saw him. For a little while, he was here, maddeningly close, then he would be gone again. It wasn't enough. Not anymore. Alex walked toward the door but was stopped by Skinner's hand on his arm. "Let me go," Alex said, his tone low and dangerous. "But you love it when I touch you," Skinner said harshly, pulling Alex to him. "Don't you? Go ahead, deny it. Lie to me, Alex. Tell me you don't love having your legs wrapped around me. Tell me you don't love my cock up your ass." Skinner paused and leaned closer. "Tell me you don't love waking up in my arms," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper, his breath hot on Alex's cheek. Alex stood motionless, not looking at Skinner. "No," he said quickly, his face scarlet. "I don't. I—" "Bullshit!" Skinner shouted. "It has to stop, Alex. I'm sick of having you for a few hours and then watching you walk out that door, never knowing if I'm going to see you again." "Don't," Alex said, his voice shaking. "Just...don't. Let me go." Skinner released Alex. "When does it end?" he demanded. "When do you decide there's more to life than being Spender's whipping boy? When do you decide you want something for yourself?" Alex backed away, shaking his head. "You don't...you don't have any idea what you're saying, Skinner. That's not...I can't do that." "Why not?" Skinner demanded angrily. "Why not, Alex? Just walk away. Just leave it!" Alex rubbed a hand across his face wearily. "You don't understand, Skinner. You don't just walk away from these people." Skinner laughed, a short, harsh, humorless sound. He threw his arms wide. "I don't understand? Do you think any amount of cleaning is ever going to get the smell of smoke out of my office? Does the word 'nanocytes' mean anything to you? I died, Alex. Remember? I think I understand better than most people." Alex paled and looked away. "That was...unavoidable," he said softly. "I'm..." he paused and cleared his throat. "I can't undo it." "I know that, Alex," Skinner said, crossing the room and pulling Alex into his arms. "I didn't say that to hurt you." He took a deep breath. "I love you. I want you to stay this time. For good." Alex jerked his head up, his eyes wide and disbelieving. His mouth opened and then snapped shut again. "You..." he breathed. "You don't. You can't." Skinner gripped Alex's shoulders tightly, refusing to let him turn away. "I mean it, Alex," he said quietly. "More than I've ever meant anything. I love you. I want you here with me. I'll do whatever it takes." Alex jerked away from Skinner, his face a mixture of anger and fear. "No," he said, backing toward the door. "Don't." —Don't make me want it. Don't make me believe it.— "Alex," Skinner said, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't tell me you don't feel anything for me." Alex snatched the knife from the hall table, made it disappear inside his jacket. "You're out of your fucking mind." He turned to go. "You don't have to be Spender's pawn anymore," Skinner said quietly. "Get free of him before it's too late." Alex whirled on Skinner angrily. "Goddammit, Skinner!" he snapped. "I don't have a choice! You don't have a choice!" "I'm giving you a choice," Skinner said simply. "No one's ever done that before, have they, Alex?" Alex stiffened. "Fuck you, Skinner," he spat, unconsciously taking a step back. "You think you know me? You think because we fuck occasionally, you're some kind of authority on my life?" He glared at Skinner, his eyes hard and cold as jade. "Stay with you? Be yours? What the fuck is this, the movie of the week?" "Alex—" "Can the hearts and flowers, Skinner," Alex sneered. He stepped forward, smiling coldly, watching as his harsh words found the mark and sank home. "You think you've got me figured out but you have no...fucking...idea. I come here sometimes. You feed me. You fuck me. Then it's over." Skinner shook his head, his lips a thin colorless line. "I don't believe you," he said simply. "It's more than that." Alex regarded Skinner contemptuously. "That's where you're wrong," he said flatly. "It's fucking. Nothing more. Stop kidding yourself, Walter. You want something to come when you call, get a fucking dog." He turned his back on Skinner, his heart pounding, his chest aching, glad Skinner couldn't see the quicksilver flash of pain in his eyes. Just go, Alex. Walk out and don't look back. You know what'll happen if you're not there tonight. He reached for the door. Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around him from behind, jerking him backwards. Alex barely had time to react before a heavy steel handcuff snapped shut around his right wrist. Stunned, he struggled as Skinner hauled him over to the staircase and locked the other cuff around the banister. He reached under Alex's jacket and swiftly drew the Glock from its holster, grabbing the gun half a second ahead of Alex. Skinner dropped the weapon on the coffee table, ignoring the younger man's outraged curses. Skinner took Alex down to the carpet at the base of the stairs, barely escaping a broken nose as Alex kicked at him viciously. Skinner swore under his breath and pinned Alex's arm behind his back, forcing his captive onto his stomach. Quickly, before Alex could aim another debilitating kick, Skinner tugged Alex's boot off and tossed it across the room. It skidded into the far corner, taking Alex's .38 with it. Alex's knife landed on the coffee table next to his Glock. Skinner released Alex and stepped back quickly. Alex quickly got to his feet, dazed and panting, his hair hanging in his eyes. Stunned, he yanked at the handcuffs, his expression at once furious and astonished. "Jesus, Skinner! What the FUCK?!?" Skinner stood nearby, his expression grim and resolute. "I'm sorry, Alex. I know this isn't going to be easy for either of us, but I said whatever it takes, and that's exactly what I meant." Alex stared at him, his eyes wide. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snapped, the cuffs rattling as he yanked at them again. "Get these things off me!" Skinner shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't do that," he said simply. "I'm putting an end to it, Alex. This insanity has to stop." Alex gaped at him, his face rapidly reddening. "You have me handcuffed to the banister and you're talking about insanity?" he said incredulously. "When's the last time you paid a visit to the FBI shrink? You're a regular poster boy for mandatory leave." "You think this is insane?" Skinner said, sitting down heavily in a nearby chair. "What should I do, Alex? Let you walk out that door knowing full well this 'job' could be your last? Knowing you might end up dead somewhere and I might never even know what happened to you? That sounds pretty damned crazy to me." "Skinner," Alex said, gritting his teeth, willing himself to stay calm. "Listen to me." He tried to keep his voice level. You can talk your way out of this, Alex. He doesn't have the stones to take this all the way. "This whole thing...this isn't you. You don't do this. This...this doesn't make sense. Just let me go." "You can't admit the truth, can you?" Skinner said sadly. "Spender spins you around and points you where to go. And when he tires of the game, he'll make sure you don't come back again." Skinner leaned forward, his gaze intense. "I know you're a survivor, Alex. I know you think you're ahead of the game. But you're running out of time. You just don't see it." Suddenly exhausted, his wrist already aching, Alex sat down heavily on the bottom step, his head in his free hand. "For fuck's sake, Skinner, don't worry about me," he said wearily. "I can handle Spender." Skinner snorted derisively. "Oh you can, can you? Is that why you're pulling such plum assignments these days?" Alex looked up sharply. "What?" Skinner got up and stood over Alex, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Vladivostok," he said. Alex's mouth opened slightly, then closed again with a snap. He dropped his eyes, his face burning. Fuck! Skinner watched Alex's discomfiture, the red flush creeping up his neck, his fist opening and closing. Alex looked up angrily. "Shut the fuck up, Skinner! You don't know what you're talking about." Skinner leaned over, his face close to Alex's. "Vladivostok, Alex," he said pointedly. "Home sweet home. Tell me, what's going to happen to you if you get caught there?" Alex looked away, his jaw working. At that moment, he despised Skinner with everything he had. How the fuck did he know so much? "You forget the access the Assistant Director's office brings me," Skinner said, as though he could read Alex's mind. "I don't know everything, not by a long shot, but I know enough to know that you shouldn't expect a warm welcome from Mother Russia." Alex continued to avoid Skinner's eyes. How could he deny having the same thoughts when he'd gotten this newest assignment? His stomach had done an uneasy roll when he'd heard the name of that miserable place. Vladivostok. The look in Spender's eyes had been one of cold satisfaction. Alex shook himself. He had to deal with the here and now. He had to get control of the situation. He looked up at Skinner. "It's a quick job," he said. "In and out. I won't get caught." "Damn right you won't," Skinner said, his tone maddeningly cool. "You're not going." "Fuck, Skinner!" Alex yanked at the cuffs again, his frustration reaching the boiling point. "Enough! Turn me loose now!" "I'm sorry," Skinner said again. "I know you're upset. I know you're going to spend the next few days hating me. But that's the price I have to pay." He stood looking down at Alex solemnly. "I just want you to remember what I said. I love you." Skinner turned and left the room. Alex stared after him, his mouth hanging open. "The...next...few...DAYS?!?" he shouted after Skinner breathlessly. "You have got to be fucking KIDDING me! Skinner!" Alex stilled for a moment, his breathing rough, his eyes wide. He ran a shaking hand through his hair and tried to get his thoughts together. —love he said love he loves me— Had Skinner lost his mind? Alex shook his head, still scarcely able to believe Mr. Rational Shoes-Polished-And-Lined-Up-Neatly-in-the-Closet Marine had just shackled him to a... Alex caught his breath, steadying himself against a sudden wave of nausea, squeezing his eyes shut against the memory of another night, of a different Skinner. Throbbing in his gut and cold concrete under him, furious brown eyes full of hate, the sound of the balcony door slamming shut against the November chill. No, Alex thought, shuddering. That was...things were different then. This isn't... Straining at the cuffs, his chest growing tight, his own frantic breathing loud in his ears. How could he do this to me? How could he do this when he knows? With a roar, Alex flung himself at the banister, pulling at the cuff with all his might, oblivious to the pain as the steel cut into his wrist. He pulled with all his might, screaming and cursing in Russian, determined to break the cuffs or rip the damn banister right off the wall, whichever came first. "Alex!" Skinner's hoarse shout fell on deaf ears as Alex thrashed, heedless, desperate to break free. "ALEX!" At last, Skinner used his greater bulk to simply press Alex back against the carpeted steps, holding him down. Panicked, Alex struck out at him, his free hand curled into a fist. Skinner pinned Alex's wrist against the steps and spoke soothingly to him, waiting for his struggles to subside. "Fuck you!" Alex roared in Skinner's face, unaware of anything at that moment save for the overpowering feeling of being trapped, unable to escape, unable to do anything but scream his rage and frustration. "I know, I know, I know," Skinner repeated, over and over, as Alex fought him, his desperate struggles gradually giving way to exhaustion. Finally, Alex lay under him, panting, his face turned away, his eyes twin dark pools of fury and betrayal. "It's all right," Skinner said gently, brushing a lock of sweat-soaked hair out of Alex's eyes. "It's all right, Alex." Alex turned and looked up at him, his mouth twisted into a bitter sneer. "You call this 'all right', you bastard?" he spat. "How the fuck could you do this to me?" He gestured awkwardly with his shackled arm, his eyes locked onto Skinner's, unwavering. "Again." He watched as that last dagger of a word found its mark and sank home, saw the bright bloom of pain in Skinner's eyes. Alex turned away again, lying motionless, his breathing ragged and loud in the leaden silence. Skinner looked down at him, brushing Alex's cheek with his fingertips. Alex tried to pull away but Skinner was still holding him fast. "I am so sorry, Alex," Skinner whispered, his hand resting again, reverently, on Alex's face. "If I could take that night back I would, a thousand times over. This," he made a helpless gesture with one hand, "I'd give anything not to have to do this to you. But," he continued despite Alex's snort of disbelief, "as much as it hurts me to see you like this, I'm willing to do it. I'm willing to do it because in the end, even if you end up hating me, you'll be alive." Alex felt Skinner's weight shift slightly and made an abortive attempt to get up, only to be pressed back down again. He hissed as he felt Skinner's strong fingers on his shackled wrist, turning it this way and that. "Get your fucking hands off me," he growled warningly. "Skinner, I'm telling you for the last time. Let. Me. Go." Skinner didn't respond for a moment, intent on examining Alex's wrist. "Alex," he said quietly. "Look at me." Alex refused, staring unseeingly at the living room wall. "Alex," Skinner said, his voice a deep rumble. "You've broken the skin. You've got to stop pulling at the cuffs." "Fuck you," Alex snapped. "You've got to get over this fascination you have with restraints." He kept his face turned away, not wanting anymore to see if his barbs drew blood. He knew he was being vicious but didn't care. Right now his mouth was the only weapon available to him and Skinner...Skinner was making a terrible mistake. Why couldn't he see the foolishness of what he was doing? Skinner slowly stood and walked out of the room. Alex watched him go and then began frantically trying to work himself free of the cuffs. He had to get out. Now. If Spender thought he was on the run... "Stop, Alex," Skinner said sharply. He knelt again beside Alex and opened the small first aid kit he kept in the downstairs bathroom. Alex whirled on him, out of breath, his hair hanging in his eyes. "I'm not going to stop, Skinner. I'm not going to stop until you wake up out of whatever fucking dream world you're living in. You can't just keep me a prisoner!" Skinner looked up, his eyes sad. "Is that what you are, Alex? My prisoner? Am I the one who won't let you go?" Alex closed his eyes, trying to get himself under control. He slumped back down on the bottom step. He couldn't remember ever being this tired. He opened his eyes and looked at Skinner. Skinner knelt, a packet of sterile gauze pads in his hand, his eyes worried and searching. "I'm going to disinfect your wrist and bandage it. Hold still." Alex winced a little as the cold disinfectant sluiced over his abraded skin. Skinner deftly bandaged Alex's wrist, then looked up at him, his expression stern. "Promise you'll stop pulling on the cuffs." Alex stared at him in amazement. "Promise?" he said, incredulous. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." "This is how it's going to be, Alex," Skinner said sternly. Alex remembered that tone well. There had been a time when young junior agent Krycek's heart quickened to hear that alpha male don't-fuck-with-me-boy voice booming from behind the AD's office door. But that was then. Hearing it now, chained in Skinner's living room like a mad dog, just made him want to wrap his fingers around Skinner's throat and squeeze. Alex's eyes flickered defiantly at Skinner as he continued. "I'm not going to let you harm yourself. I want your word that you're not going to fight the cuffs anymore. Your wrist isn't too badly hurt but if you keep it up you're really going to do some damage." "I guess you should have thought about that," Alex said acidly. "Do you really expect me to just go along with this? Sit here like a good little boy and wear my chains proudly?" Skinner took a deep breath, making sure Alex was looking at him before he spoke. "Remember what I said a few minutes ago? How, no matter how pissed off you get, that I want you to remember I love you?" Alex didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the far wall. "I know you hate the cuffs," Skinner said, his hand on Alex's. "I know you think I don't, but I do. I'm sorry. I said it before and I'll keep on saying it, the rest of my life if I have to. But I'm not going to let you spend one more hour as Spender's property. I'm not going to let you walk out of here and be slaughtered." "Skinner—" "No, Alex. There's no point arguing about it. I've got a feeling about this trip to Vladivostok and I think you do too, even if you won't admit it. Spender's not going to stop until he's destroyed you completely. I know you don't think I have a choice but I'm telling you, I do. And I'm making it. Right now." Alex looked at Skinner. His wrist was stinging from the disinfectant. "Get them off me. Please." "No," Skinner said simply, maddeningly. "Fuck, Skinner!" Alex tipped his head back, tears of frustration in his eyes. "Alex," Skinner said quietly, "I'm asking you. Don't fight me. Don't make me have to—" "Have to what?" Alex snapped, giving a ferocious pull on the cuffs, ignoring the throbbing in his wrist. "What the fuck are you going to do now, toss me out on the balcony?" Skinner flinched a little but let it lie, not wanting to get Alex any more riled up than he already was. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a syringe, a plastic safety cap covering the needle. "If you keep pulling on the cuffs, I will have to sedate you. I don't want to do that, Alex, but I will." Alex's eyes were huge, fixed on the syringe. "Jesus, Skinner," he breathed. He stared at Skinner in horror. "You...you wouldn't." Skinner's resolute gaze told Alex he would. Satisfied that he had made his point, unpleasant as it was, he slipped the syringe back into his pocket and stood up. "I don't want to have to use it. Please believe me." Alex was speechless for a moment. He looked beseechingly at Skinner. He'd tried fighting, he'd tried reason, it was time for his last resort: good old-fashioned begging. "Skinner," he said, swallowing hard, "please. Take them off." "No," Skinner said simply. His tone was not one of menace or even unkindness, but one of sheer implacable duty. Alex trembled a little. He was getting more anxious by the second, ready to crawl out of his skin. He was trapped. He closed his eyes, tried to breathe through his nose, tried to calm down. Being trapped was like being buried alive. "Skinner," Alex said again, his voice quavering. "Take the cuffs off and let me go." He bit his lip, hating the whining, desperate sound of his own voice. "Don't do this to me. You know I can't..." he swallowed hard. "You know I can't stand being restrained. Please." His throat hurt with the effort it took to say the words out loud. Skinner moved closer, approaching Alex cautiously. He leaned down and tipped Alex's face up, kissing him again. Forgetting his pride for a moment, Alex clung to him with his one free hand, needing him, drinking him in. "I know this is hard for you and I'm sorry. I'll try to make it as easy for you as I can," Skinner said. He turned to go. Alex huddled there on the bottom step, lost and confused. Resentment battling with need, he saw Skinner walking away and felt a sudden surge of panic. "Don't go!" Skinner turned back to him. Alex wrapped his one free arm around himself, unconsciously rocking a little. His eyes burned into Skinner's with terrified intensity. "Don't leave me alone. Not like this. Please." Skinner hastened to Alex and held him in a strong embrace. "I won't," Skinner said, his voice low and reassuring, the alpha rumble that always seemed to settle Alex. "I'm just going in the other room. I'll be right back and then we'll go." Alex watched Skinner's retreating back, his head spinning. Go? Where the fuck are we going to go? Alex sat silently, watching as Skinner moved back and forth between the back bedroom and the living room, efficiently making a small pile by the front door. Alex stared at the duffel bags, trying to make sense of it all. —He's really serious. He really means to take me away somewhere.— Orderly and organized to the end, Skinner made a last sweep through the condo, making sure the timers for the lamps were set and that the hot water was turned off. He retrieved Alex's discarded boot from the far corner and removed the pistol from it, then knelt beside Alex. Alex looked away as Skinner helped him slip the boot on, discomfited by the intimacy of the act in light of the circumstances. At last, he turned to Alex, the handcuff key in his hand. "It's time to go," he said quietly. "I'm going to unlock the cuffs. I need you to cooperate with me now, Alex. Understand?" Alex nodded reluctantly. Skinner unlocked the cuff from the banister and waited for Alex to stand. Alex did so stiffly, grimacing a little as he stretched his legs. Skinner waited, watching Alex sympathetically. "Better?" Alex nodded again, watching with dismay as Skinner brought the open cuff toward his free wrist. He tried to pull away but Skinner caught his arm above the elbow and held him fast. "No!" "Alex..." Skinner said warningly. Alex cast a glance toward the door, wondering if he could cover the distance before Skinner caught him. He swore silently as he realized it would be impossible. Skinner was standing too close, body already tensed should Alex try to run. "I'll cuff you in front," Skinner said quietly. "But if you try anything, I'll have to drug you. You know that I don't want to do that. Do we understand each other, Alex?" Alex gulped and nodded. His mind was racing, trying to figure a way out of the situation before it was too late. The cuff snicked shut around his unbandaged wrist. Skinner put a hand on Alex's shoulder and leaned close. "It's early, so we're not likely to meet anyone on the way down. We stick close together, we get off the elevator and go straight to the car. Is that clear?" "Yes," Alex said tonelessly, looking down at his manacled hands. He glared at Skinner's back bitterly, embarrassed at his display of weakness a few moments before. He had been vulnerable, too vulnerable, and he wouldn't let it happen again. Skinner picked up a blue gym bag and slung it over one shoulder, picking up the duffel bags with the other hand. "I've packed some things," Skinner said, opening the front door. "It's not much, but we can get whatever we need later." "Where are we going?" Alex demanded. "Come on," Skinner said quietly, "there's not much time." The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the parking garage, their footsteps echoing in the early morning silence, their breath visible in the winter chill. The duffel bags Skinner carried kept him slightly off-balance. Alex watched him stealthily. He had been cornered upstairs in Skinner's condo but now, here in the empty parking garage, this would be his best chance to escape. Moving with calculated grace, Alex leapt sideways, slamming his shoulder into Skinner. Skinner cursed and stumbled. Alex took off at a dead run, holding his cuffed hands awkwardly in front of him. Dimly, he heard heavy footsteps behind him, growing louder and louder. Alex forced himself to tune it out, to focus only on one thing: reaching the street. He could get the cuffs off later, find an alleyway somewhere, out of sight, where he would have time to work. It was better this way. Maybe one day Skinner would understand. Alex was almost to the door when he was tackled from behind. He went down hard, grunting with the impact, Skinner's hand moving quickly to cup the back of Alex's head before it struck the concrete, protecting him even as he brought him down. "NO!" Alex's hoarse shout echoed in the cavernous structure. "Let me go, Skinner!" "Dammit, Alex," Skinner growled, struggling to subdue Alex. "Stop fighting me!" "Fuck you, Skinner! Let me go!" Alex shouted. Suddenly something caught his eye just outside the parking garage door. A sleepy-looking man was just getting out of a newspaper delivery truck. Alex hesitated. Attracting attention from the general public was something Alex always tried to avoid, but Skinner was being so fucking bullheaded, and calling for help might enable Alex to get away in the resulting commotion. He panted as he was hauled to his feet, Skinner gripping him securely. Alex turned his head, trying to see Skinner's face. "Skinner, listen to me. You don't understand. You have to let me go." "You're not going anywhere, boy," Skinner growled, quickly frogmarching Alex back toward the car. Alex opened his mouth to shout, glad he'd taken a few moments that morning after his shower to borrow one of Skinner's razors. Clean-shaven, his hair hanging in his eyes like this, he could pass for years younger. Maybe the newspaper man would hear him and come running, thinking he was interrupting an assault in progress. Alex could play the vulnerable young victim and slip away while Skinner dealt with the "witness". Alex's plans were dashed as a large hand clamped over his mouth, pressing his head firmly back against Skinner's shoulder, smothering his infuriated protests. He struggled violently, his boots scraping on the concrete as Skinner dragged him to the car. Desperate, Alex attempted a sideways kick to Skinner's knee, holding back slightly even as he did so. He didn't want to cripple the man, just make him let go. But Skinner merely shifted Alex to one side, grunting with the effort, and propelled him forward, bending him over the hood of the car. Alex thrashed helplessly as Skinner leaned over him, swiftly unlocking one of the handcuffs. It took all of his strength to hold the struggling younger man down and wrest his arms behind his back. "NO!" Alex screamed, his cheek against cold steel, Skinner's forearm across his back. "Don't you fucking do this to me! Skinner!" "I told you not to do that," Skinner said behind him, panting with the effort of holding him down. "You leave me no choice." "Get these fucking things off me!" Alex roared, fighting with renewed strength, twisting in Skinner's hands, trying to get into position to kick, bite, anything to get away. "Let me go!" He made an abortive attempt to throw his head back into Skinner's nose, no longer caring how badly he might have to hurt the older man. Skinner was holding him down. Skinner had him handcuffed. At that moment, Skinner was the enemy. "Enough!" Skinner roared, pressing Alex back down over the hood. "You're caught, boy! Just give it up!" "Goddamn you, Skinner!" Alex screamed, his voice fracturing with rage. "Don't make me want to fucking kill you!" —don't want to I don't want to— "Alex," Skinner said sadly, leaning over him again. "I'm sorry." The sting of the needle took Alex completely by surprise. He froze, his eyes wide and disbelieving, the breath escaping him in a startled rush. "God—" he choked, his heart hammering frantically in his chest. He could already feel the heat just beneath his skin, slowly spreading outward. "No!" "Just relax, Alex," Skinner said behind him, his voice maddeningly calm. "Don't fight it." "No no no..." Alex whimpered, his face against the hood of the car. He panted raggedly through his open mouth, barely aware of Skinner's thumb rubbing the spot high on his hip where the drug went in. "Please..." He tried again to struggle, to stand, but Skinner's hand on his back felt like a boulder pinning him down. Alex raised his head, already feeling his senses blurring, his limbs growing heavy. He blinked and it felt like an eternity before his eyes opened again, the cars parked nearby suddenly shimmering and indistinct. —fight it— With effort, Alex forced himself to focus. He closed his eyes against the lightheadedness, regulated his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe, Alex. He felt himself sinking under and a sob wrenched itself from his throat, an animal sound of helplessness and anguish. He felt Skinner's hands pulling him up, propping him against the car. Alex opened his eyes. Skinner's face, concerned and solemn, swam before him. Alex tried to pull away but found himself gathered into strong arms. "It's all right, Alex," Skinner said. "Come on, I've got you." Alex blinked again and tried to concentrate on Skinner's face. His mouth was moving, close to Alex's face, but his voice seemed to be coming from far away. Alex made one last-ditch effort to resist but it was useless. He sagged against Skinner, his face against the big man's chest, Skinner's hands under his arms, supporting him. Alex panted and closed his eyes, dizzy and disoriented, the sound of Skinner's heartbeat, which had only that morning seemed like the sound of heaven, now a terrifying drumbeat which seemed to grow louder and louder in Alex's head. "Come on," Skinner said again, his voice gentle and soothing, opening the passenger side door and guiding Alex toward it. Alex stumbled a little and Skinner caught him, then eased him down into the seat. Alex's head lolled against the headrest as Skinner carefully eased his legs in and then reached across him to buckle the seatbelt. Skinner paused a moment before closing the car door, his face etched with concern. He cupped Alex's cheek with his palm for a moment, moving his thumb over the smooth skin, so pale under his sooty lashes. Skinner leaned down and pressed his lips against Alex's forehead, his brown eyes troubled. "I love you," he whispered. "I hope that's enough." "Alex?" Alex mumbled and turned his face away. Someone was close to him, touching him, saying his name, the tone low and insistent. A hand sought his face and Alex tried to pull away, survival instincts honed by a lifetime as both hunter and prey the first to fully awaken. "Alex?" Skinner said again. Alex's eyelashes fluttered. His breathing quickened. He began to struggle against the seatbelt, mumbling again, saying something Skinner couldn't understand. Skinner leaned closer, cupping the back of Alex's head with his hand. He turned Alex's face toward his, wiping away the wetness at one corner of his mouth. "Alex, open your eyes." Suddenly, Alex's eyes flew open. He gasped and immediately began to struggle harder, his wide green eyes confused and unfocused. Sweat shone on his pale skin, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, his gaze riveted on something Skinner couldn't see. "NO!" Alex shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. "Please don't!" "Alex!" Skinner said loudly, shaking him gently. "Alex! Look at me!" Alex started violently. His eyes finally focused on Skinner's face, recognition slowly dawning. He stopped struggling and stared at Skinner for a moment, then turned his face away. Skinner watched Alex fighting to get control of himself, his chest hitching as he tried to slow his breathing. Cautiously, Skinner touched Alex's arm. Alex pulled away as far as the seatbelt allowed, huddling against the passenger side door. He didn't look at Skinner. "Don't fucking touch me," he growled, still breathing too hard. He rested his head against the cool glass of the car window, closed his eyes again. Skinner twisted the cap off a bottle of water. "Here," he said, holding the bottle out to Alex. "You must be thirsty." Alex slowly turned to look at him. He wanted to tell him just what he could do with his fucking water but the sight of it, the bottle sweating, tiny droplets of condensation dripping from it, was too much. He had been this thirsty a few times in his life, but none of them were something he cared to think about. Skinner was still holding the bottle out to him. "Go on," he said. "Take it." Alex looked down, still drug-stupid, and realized for the first time that his hands were no longer cuffed behind his back. One hand lay free in his lap while the other was cuffed to the inside passenger door handle. Alex flexed his wrists, rotated them, working the feeling back into them after being immobile for...how long? He peered out of the window, silently cursing that drugged, muzzy feeling he hated. Concentrate, Alex. They were apparently parked at a highway rest stop, in the deserted far end of the parking lot, away from the low building. Alex squinted but the nearest cars were too far away for him to see their license plates. He exhaled sharply, frustrated. He looked around him, gathering every bit of visual information he could to try and gauge his whereabouts. Can't get back to where you were until you know where the fuck you're going, he thought darkly. His eyes, sharper now, catalogued the nearby strip of highway, the steady stream of cars and trucks rushing by, the picnic area behind them, lined with trees, dotted with wooden tables and wire trashcans. The place was busy, as evidenced by the number of cars coming and going, the people streaming in and out of the building. There was some sort of sign above the entrance but it was partially covered with snow and too far away for Alex to make the words out. He bit back a curse and slumped in his seat. Everything he saw was completely generic and utterly useless for determining their location. They could be at any anonymous rest stop on any anonymous highway in the entire fucking country. "Where the fuck are we?" Alex demanded. "We're about halfway there," Skinner said. His tone was quiet and reasonable and utterly infuriating. Alex turned, glaring daggers at him. "I want to know, Skinner. You owe me that much, don't you think?" He made a helpless, angry gesture with his cuffed hand. "Take the water, Alex," Skinner said, changing the subject. He offered the bottle of water again. Alex licked his lips, his thirst nearly overpowering, but he did not lift his hand to take it. He shot a suspicious look at the bottle, then at Skinner. Skinner understood. He raised the bottle to his own lips and took a healthy swig. He held the bottle out to Alex again. "It's just water. You have my word." Alex grabbed the bottle and tipped it back, groaning aloud with relief as the cold water hit his parched throat. He gulped it greedily, stopping only when Skinner pulled it from his lips. Alex protested, trying to snatch the bottle back. "Easy," Skinner said. "I'll give it back but you have to take it slow, otherwise you'll be sick." Alex nodded reluctantly and Skinner returned the bottle to him. "Just sip at it, boy. There's plenty more where that came from." Alex obeyed, taking a sip and resting the bottle against his knee. Silently, he swore at Skinner for making him so dependent, for...Alex swallowed and looked out of the window again. For taking on a fight he would never win. Skinner started the car and pulled onto the entrance ramp, merging smoothly into traffic. Alex turned to look at him, tugging anxiously at the cuffs. "You can still stop this," Alex said urgently. "Please, Skinner. Listen to me. Turn the car around. Take me back, now, before it's too late." "My mind is made up," Skinner said succinctly. He cast a sidelong glance at Alex as the younger man pulled at the cuffs again. "Alex. Stop." Alex looked up and caught Skinner's warning look. Abruptly, he stopped struggling with the cuffs and sat back in his seat. "Skinner, this is a mistake," Alex said, willing himself to be still. He had no desire to be cuffed more tightly or sedated again. "Stop this. Take me back to D.C." "Trust me, Alex," Skinner said quietly. "Everything is going to be fine." Alex gaped at Skinner. "FINE?" he snapped. "Everything's going to be 'fine'?" He leaned toward Skinner, his eyes blazing. "I never thought of you as a stupid man, Skinner. Don't make me start now. You've lived out your little fantasy of carrying me away but it's over, okay? It's time to pull your head out of your ass! Pull this fucking car over and let me go! I'll get back to D.C. on my own." To Alex's amazement, Skinner did pull over. But Alex's sudden burst of hope died when Skinner simply put the car in neutral, pulled up the parking brake and turned to look at him with a grave expression. "Little fantasy?" Skinner echoed, his brown eyes soft and pained. "Is that what you think this is, Alex? You think I like doing this? You think I handcuffed you, drugged you and drove you out here to get my rocks off?" His voice was dark with hurt. Alex looked down, hardening his heart against the pain in Skinner's face, in those few surprised words. "I don't know why you did it," he lied. —He said he loves me, loves me—"And I don't care. I just want out of this car. Now." "No," Skinner said simply. "I'm not letting you go and I'm not going to let you goad me into some kind of confrontation. I know you, Alex. You're looking for a chink in the armor, some way to get the upper hand. I don't blame you. It's what they've trained you to do. You want to get back to Spender before he knows you're gone. You're afraid. I don't blame you for that either." "Skinner, you don't understand—" Alex began desperately. "No, Alex," Skinner said sharply. "I'm not letting you go back there, back to him. Like it or not, I'm going to save you from Spender, and if that means saving you from yourself in the process, so be it." Alex let out a growl of pure frustration. It was all he could do to keep himself from grabbing Skinner's neck and slamming his head into the dashboard. Goddammit, why couldn't he make Skinner see?" "Save me?" Alex said mockingly, his eyes narrowed. "Save me?" He was trembling, shivering despite the warmth of the day. His temples pounded, spots swam before his eyes. He began to shout. "You arrogant prick! You think you can just come swooping in on your white charger and make everything all right? You're fucking dreaming! This is the real world, Walter, not a fucking romance novel!" "I know you're upset, Alex, and I don't—" "Don't!" Alex shouted, his face purpling with rage. "Don't tell me how I feel! You have no fucking idea how I feel! You think you know what you're getting into, Assistant Director? You think the nanos are the worst thing that can fucking happen?" Alex leaned close to Skinner, his eyes afire, spitting out the words through clenched teeth. "You have no...fucking...IDEA what they're capable of. You're in way over your head. Stop congratulating yourself for 'saving' poor little misguided Alex and THINK!" "You're not going back there," Skinner said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "You can scream at me all you want, Alex. Call me every name in the book if it makes you feel better. But I'm not letting you go." Alex slumped back against the seat, drained. He closed his eyes. "This isn't a fairy tale, Skinner," he said tiredly. "I'm not a damsel in distress. I'm an assassin, a thief, whatever..." he trailed off for a moment, clearing his throat a little, "whatever I have to be. You can't just lock me in a tower and make the monster go away." Skinner put the car in gear and looked Alex in the eye. "I can try." Alex awoke with a start. He rubbed his eyes, disgusted with himself for falling asleep again. They had driven for hours, Skinner sticking to narrow, unmarked back roads that stretched out before them like black ribbons spooling through the snow-covered fields. Alex had stared out the window for miles, hoping for some road sign, a town, some way of figuring out where they were headed, but there had been nothing but rolling hills dotted with the occasional small house, a plume of smoke wafting from its chimney. Alex had settled back into the seat, surrepticiously watching Skinner as he drove, forced to content himself with the little he did know. The confident way Skinner navigated the back country roads made it obvious that he knew the territory and knew it well. And, from the way Alex's ears were popping, they were rapidly ascending to a higher elevation. He couldn't see the mountains yet but that had to be where they were going. He had frowned a little to himself. The more remote the location, the harder it was going to be to get back once he managed to give Skinner the slip. The car moved slowly up a long, curving drive, the tires crunching on the gravel. Alex looked out of the window, but it was dusk and he couldn't see anything but the dark outlines of the trees that stood thickly on either side of the drive. He stifled a curse as he thought about the vital information he'd missed out on. Knowing exactly where Skinner had turned off would have proved invaluable, as would knowing how long they had driven to get here. Alex stole a look at Skinner, his cheeks burning, humiliated at having fallen asleep like some little kid on a car trip to Disneyland. "You're awake," Skinner observed quietly, steering the car around another curve. "I've been awake for a while," Alex said defensively, eyeing Skinner to see if his lie was believed. Skinner said nothing but something in the way the corner of his mouth quirked told Alex he knew better. Alex turned away and lapsed into a sullen silence. Skinner downshifted as the drive took them up a steep incline. After several minutes, they reached the top, and Alex got his first look at their destination. For a moment, he almost forgot he had brought to this place against his will. Alex stared at it through the window, his mouth open with awe. The cabin was magnificent, built of solid redwood, burnished by the sun. The design was simple yet elegant; clean, crisp lines coming together at the apex of a towering A-frame, its immense picture window looking out over the valley below. Draped with its thick blanket of snow, the cabin looked like a picture from a fairy tale. It was bordered on one side by thick woods, on the other by a free-roaming, untamed meadow. And all around, the Blue Ridge mountains stood like sentries, shielding this secret place from the world outside. Skinner parked the car and cut the engine. He reached into his pocket and held up the handcuff key. "I'm going to cuff you in front again. They'll come off once we're inside...if you don't try to run. Understand?" Alex glared at Skinner but offered no resistance as Skinner leaned across him, unlocking the cuff from the door handle and quickly snapping it around Alex's left wrist. Skinner got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side door. He opened it, careful to block Alex's route of escape should he bolt again. Alex stood quickly, eager to get out of the car. A sudden rush of dizziness made him stagger. Skinner quickly grabbed him and held him steady. "Jesus, Skinner," Alex said, closing his eyes. He stood there a moment, his heart aching at how grateful he felt to have Skinner's strong arms around his waist, holding him up, holding him close. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, looking at Skinner reproachfully. "What the fuck did you give me?" "Demerol," Skinner answered, a trifle sheepishly. "Just a light dose. The dizziness should wear off soon." He cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm sorry about that, Alex. I didn't want you to be...uncomfortable," he finished awkwardly. Part of Alex wanted to stay in Skinner's arms, to let that warm, protected feeling go on forever. He forced himself to stamp that part of himself down, snorting and pushing Skinner away with his cuffed hands. "Does Scully know you've been helping yourself to her little black bag?" he said sarcastically. Skinner merely raised an eyebrow. "Seems like you're feeling better now," he said drily. "Let's get inside." He took Alex's elbow, thwarting Alex's attempts to pull away, and led him up the front steps of the cabin. Alex muttered under his breath but took heed of Skinner's warning look. He wanted the fucking cuffs to come off and stay off, and the only way to do that was to give the appearance of cooperation, at least for the moment. Maybe once he got a look at the cabin's layout he would see an opportunity for escape. The huge front doors swung open and they stepped inside. There was a keypad on the wall just inside the entryway and Skinner paused to reset the alarm, making sure to block Alex's view with his body as he pressed the buttons. Alex sulked behind him, annoyed. The keypad was not only sleek and unobtrusive, but silent as well. There were no telltale electronic tones for his well-practiced ear to decipher, but the sound of the doors closing behind them left no doubt: those were professional-grade six-cylinder locks Alex heard sliding smoothly into place. Whomever designed the security system knew what he was doing. Skinner turned to him with the handcuff key and Alex quickly held out his wrists, eager to be free of the restraints. Skinner unlocked them with a quick turn of the key and a one-word admonition. "Behave." Alex gave him a filthy look and began rubbing his wrists, mindful of his bandage but throwing a little extra pathos into the gesture for Skinner's benefit. May as well work on the big guy's conscience a little, maybe find himself an out. Apparently unconcerned by Alex's poignant display, Skinner folded his arms and leaned against the wall, watching his captive as he took in his new surroundings. He had to hide a smile as Alex stepped tentatively forward into the living room, his boots echoing on the polished hardwood floors. The boy was making an admirable attempt to hold on to his sulk, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. Alex stood in the center of the living room, dwarfed by the soaring thirty-foot ceilings, lined with rough-hewn beams. He looked around, mouth half-open, unable to hide his admiration, however grudging. The place was breathtaking, the ultimate fantasy of anyone who ever daydreamed about a mountain hideaway. The warm wood, rosy with sunlight, beckoned Alex in, almost making him forget for a moment that he had been brought to this place against his will. The cabin's floor plan was airy and open, with a long bar, its copper top glowing, separating the kitchen from the living room. A massive stone fireplace dominated one end of the room, stacked with hardwood ready to light. A sofa and two overstuffed chairs, upholstered in rich cream and piled with plump green cushions, sat near the fireplace. French doors led out onto the wide back deck, the keypad beside them confirming that their delicate design hid the same heavy-duty security as the front doors. A curving staircase in one corner led to the second floor loft, open like the first floor and encircled by a carved wooden rail. Alex stood still, his bright, inquisitive eyes roving over everything, unable to hide his awe at the serene beauty of the place. The huge window behind him flooded the room with sunlight, illuminating everything in its path, touching Alex's dark hair with fire, painting the tips of his eyelashes gold. He could not possibly know how beautiful he was. Skinner knew; watched, his eyes full, his heart full, unable to hide the naked longing on his face. Green eyes narrowed and glittered, falling on him briefly. Alex's gaze swept the room again, his Consortium training eclipsing his superficial love of aesthetics. Every door, every window, every possible path of escape was meticulously examined and catalogued. Alex turned back to Skinner, filled with sudden inexplicable rage at having been abducted and brought to this heartbreakingly perfect place. "Why did you bring me here?" he snarled, his heart pounding. He was so angry it hurt. Better it should be a cold cell. He wouldn't have to love it then. Better it should be a barren, unforgiving place, like the... Alex swallowed. Not like that. But not like this, either. Not someplace he could love so easily. Not someplace that felt so much like what he'd always dreamed a home would be. "Do you like it?" Skinner asked softly. Alex exhaled sharply. "Sure. It's great. Next time someone I know is planning on being drugged and abducted, I'll be sure to recommend it." Skinner looked down, studied the floor uncomfortably. "I didn't want things to go this way, Alex." "How did you want it to go?" Alex demanded. "Did you want me to fall into your arms and say 'oh please, Daddy, save me?'" He glared at Skinner with disgust. "You handcuffed me. You drugged me. You brought me here against my will. This is a beautiful place but I've got a news flash for you, Skinner: A beautiful prison is still a prison." Skinner looked at Alex for a long moment. "I know you don't believe me now, Alex, but I'm trying to set you free." Alex rolled his eyes. "Give me a fucking break, Skinner. At least have the balls to call it what it is." Skinner sighed, exasperated. "Fine," he said, clearly out of patience. "You want me to say it's a prison; it's a prison, although I think you'll find the food here a little better than that." Alex glared at him, his jaw set mulishly. Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He put them back on and looked at Alex. "I know you're mad as hell. I know you're scared. It's going to take time for you to accept the situation." "How long are you planning on keeping me here?" Alex snapped. "As long as it takes," Skinner said evenly. "Let's get something straight. When I decided to do this, I knew you wouldn't submit willingly. You have to fight, it's in your nature. I also accepted that you might hate me, probably for quite a while. It's hard for me, harder than you can imagine. But I can do it, for as long as I have to, because of what I feel for you. Because of what I think you feel for me." Alex shook his head and backed away a step. "I never—" "I know," Skinner said quietly. "How could you admit it to me when you can't admit it to yourself?" Alex paled. "I don't want to be here," he blurted. "I want to leave." Skinner took a step toward him. "Alex—" "Fuck off, Skinner," Alex said venomously. "You're deluding yourself. The only thing I ever felt for you was your cock." "Alex. Enough." "You're right about one thing," Alex said, his voice rising. "I hate you. You hear me, Skinner? I fucking hate you. If I'd known a few pity fucks would get me kidnapped I wouldn't have bothered!" Skinner grabbed Alex's arm and fixed him with his best don't-give-me-any-shit AD glare. "I said enough." Alex tried to stare him down, but flushed and dropped his eyes after a moment. "Do you think I don't know what you're doing?" Skinner demanded, giving Alex a firm shake. "You're hoping if you curse at me enough and hurl enough abuse, I'll get sick of your lip and let you go." Alex stared at the floor wordlessly. Skinner let go of his arm. "Look at me," he commanded. Slowly, Alex raised his eyes, his rebellious expression unchanged. "You're not going anywhere," Skinner said, in a tone that brooked no argument. He pointed toward the staircase. "Upstairs. Now." Alex stood in the doorway of the master bedroom, watching as Skinner opened the drapes and turned on the bedside lamp. The room was masculine and elegantly spare, everything in it obviously chosen with a great deal of thought for the man who owned it. The furniture was oak, simple and well made. The comforter on the king-sized bed was darkest blue, the sheets beneath crisp white. Several fishing poles leaned against the wall in one corner, a pair of rubber boots on the floor beside them. A black and white photograph sat on the dresser in a plain silver frame. Alex peered at it. A woman in a white dress sat on a low brick wall, smiling at the camera, squinting a little in the sun. Skinner turned and saw Alex looking at the picture. "That's my mother. She passed away ten years ago." The oddly gentle euphemism was lost on Alex. "You mean she died," he said flatly. Skinner looked up. Alex's expression was blank. "Yes," Skinner said. "She died." He toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, quickly pulling a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the dresser drawer and tossing them on the bed. He stripped down to his briefs, aware of Alex's eyes on him, and took his time getting dressed again. A glance in Alex's direction showed his efforts weren't wasted. Alex stared at him, his face red, finally fidgeting and looking away. Abruptly, he looked back at Skinner. "I'm not sleeping in here." Skinner paused and looked at him. Alex looked tensed for a fight. "Fine," he said simply. "You can sleep in the guest room." "Fine," Alex echoed, surprised at the ease with which Skinner agreed. He followed Skinner down the hall. He had slipped his leather jacket off and carried it under his arm, unconsciously clinging to it like a security blanket. Skinner opened the door to the guest room and turned on the light. Alex stepped in, cautiously looking around. It was a small room but bright, the late afternoon sun pouring in the large window. The furniture was oak, the same design as in the master bedroom. The bed was neatly made, the coverlet a deep, dark red. There was a small bedside table with a lamp. A straight-backed chair sat by the window, a tall narrow dresser beside it. "This is your room," Skinner said, "for as long as you want it to be." He lingered a moment and then left the room, letting the words hang heavy in the air behind him. Alex stood there alone, looking around the empty room. A breeze stirred the trees outside his window, making them sway, their bare branches whispering as they brushed one another. He stared at them unseeing, clutching his jacket, his expression troubled. He heard Skinner moving around in the master bedroom, opening and closing drawers, running water in the en suite bathroom. He closed his eyes wearily. —not supposed to be here— They wouldn't have missed him yet. It was too early. But in a few hours, they would be waiting for him. They wouldn't wait long. Then they would go on without him, Maldonado and the others. But first they'd call Spender, tell him that Alex hadn't shown. Alex's teeth worried at his lower lip. Did Skinner really think Spender couldn't find them here? Of course he could. And then... Alex swallowed hard. He knew what betraying Spender could cost him. The alarm was deafening. The crash which preceded it seemed muted in comparison to the piercing, unremitting shriek that split the air. The cabin was immediately plunged into darkness as solid steel shutters slammed down, covering every door and window. A moment later, emergency lights on every wall flickered on, giving the barricaded rooms an ethereal glow. Skinner walked toward Alex's room, his pace unhurried, almost leisurely. He stepped inside, ignoring the clamoring alarm, still casually drying his hands. The scene before him told its own story: Alex, taut with fear and adrenaline, backing away from the window, his eyes wide. The straight-backed chair lying on the floor beside him, one leg cracked and splintered. Alex stood, his eyes locked on Skinner, his ears trying to close themselves against the alarm's relentless onslaught. Skinner looked at him for a moment, his expression inscrutable, then turned and left the room. A moment later, the alarm mercifully fell silent. The steel shutters trundled back up into their hiding places, the sun streaming in again behind them. The emergency lights flicked off. Skinner walked back into the room, arching an eyebrow, almost amused as he surveyed the evidence of Alex's misdeed. "All right, Alex," he said, his tone almost conversational. "House rules." Alex stood before him, his face red, angry and humiliated at having made such an unsuccessful attempt at escape. He had been outsmarted like a rank amateur and Skinner was obviously enjoying it, the bastard. Skinner picked up the chair and examined its broken leg. He looked up at Alex. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't do that again," he said calmly, putting the chair down in the corner to lean against the wall. "The windows are all bulletproof and, as you've seen," he added with a chuckle, "shatterproof. But I am rather fond of my chairs." Alex clenched his fists, trembling with anger and frustration. Skinner was making fun of him! Skinner dusted off his hands and turned his attention back to Alex, ignoring the angry blaze in the younger man's eyes. "I had this place built about five years ago," he said conversationally. "It's my sanctuary. I come here when I need a break from D.C., from the sick game that used to be a job I loved." He paused a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning on the windowsill as he spoke. "This place is...special, as you've no doubt noticed. There are some very remote roads here in the Blue Ridge, some so well hidden that even the locals don't know about them. This place doesn't have an address. The county land office has no record of it. Some friends of Mulder's helped me with that. They designed the security system as well. As you've seen," he added, gesturing toward the undamaged window, "they're very good at what they do." Alex glared and said nothing. Skinner watched him, unable to hide his smile. Damn, but the boy was gorgeous when his blood was up. "There's a central Ansel system in case of fire," Skinner continued matter-of-factly. "If it's triggered it will fill the room with fire-retardant foam. It won't help you get away but it will ruin my carpet, so I don't suggest you try it." Alex looked down, even the tips of his ears red as Skinner's small satisfied smile seemed to mock him. "In short," Skinner said standing and fixing Alex with a stern look, "you're here to stay until I decide otherwise. No one knows the alarm code but me and I change it every day. I suppose you could try to get it out of me but I wouldn't waste my time if I were you. When I made this decision I committed to it one hundred percent. I know what you're capable of, Alex, but I don't think you'll do it. It's a risk but one I am willing to take. So, before you ask, I won't have any trouble sleeping at night with you under the same roof." Alex looked at Skinner, seething. Why didn't Skinner just rip his balls off and display them in a glass case in the front hall? "You're so sure of yourself, aren't you, Skinner?" he hissed, his pride wounded. He was a highly trained killer, a dangerous adversary under any circumstances. And Skinner was treating him like a harmless pet, an attack dog rendered toothless and dependent before being allowed to curl up at its master's feet. Alex narrowed his eyes. "Do you really think you can keep me here against my will?" he demanded, his white teeth bared in challenge. Skinner took a step toward him, his shoulders squared, his dark eyes holding Alex's firmly. Alex started and backed further away, panicked, his eyes darting past Skinner, desperately trying to map a plan of escape. He jumped a little when he felt the wall behind him, cool against his back, putting an end to any further retreat. Skinner closed the distance between them, moving slowly and deliberately, watching Alex's increasing discomfiture, the way he tightened in on himself, expecting the worst. Skinner stood close to Alex, close enough to feel the body heat, stoked with adrenaline, radiating off him in waves. He waited until Alex raised wary green eyes to his, making sure he had Alex's undivided attention. "Yes," he said simply, his voice low and calm. He put one hand against the wall, his outstretched arm effectively trapping Alex. "I do." Alex looked up at him, pinned and terrified. What was Skinner going to do? Skinner was so close now, looming over him. The thought of being restrained again made Alex nauseous. What if Skinner locked him in a room, kept him there? Alex shook his head as the bad thoughts crowded close. He took a deep breath and tried to speak, his voice catching in his dry throat. "H-how?" he whispered, hating how afraid he sounded. Skinner cocked his head, his expression somber. "I'm going to do something to you, Alex. Something no one ever trained you to deal with. Something you can't fight." Alex stared up at him, his eyes growing dark with fear. Skinner watched as, with great effort, Alex seemed to withdraw into himself. He closed his eyes, his mouth a grim line. He had tried to escape and failed and now awaited his sentence, only his clenched hands and his shallow, ragged breathing betraying his terror. Alex bowed his head, waiting for the hurt. Skinner said nothing for a few moments, letting the silence between them settle and grow heavy. Skinner moved closer still, his body practically touching Alex's, leaning in, his mouth close to Alex's ear. "I'm going to give you something you've never had." Alex's eyes opened wide. His heart pounding, his mouth half open, Alex's mind raced. —drugs it's drugs he's going to knock me out again— "Not drugs, Alex," Skinner said quickly, seeing the wild, panicked look in Alex's eyes. "I'm going to give you peace." Alex looked at Skinner, his expression still wary and suspicious. "Peace," he repeated, confused for a moment. "You're going to kill me," he added suddenly, his tone oddly calm. The concept made sense to him; it was language he understood. Exasperated, Skinner gave Alex a brisk shake. "No, Alex," he said gruffly. "I'm not going to kill you." He felt Alex relax, just a little. "I brought you here so you could have a chance to see what real life is like, the way ordinary people live. Peace, Alex. Waking up in the morning and not having to worry about how you're going to survive another day, who you're going to have to kill, who might try to kill you." Skinner paused, looking into Alex's eyes. "A chance to stop looking over your shoulder. A chance to learn that you deserve more out of life than being Spender's toy." Alex stared at him blankly. Skinner exhaled, frustrated. What was it going to take to get through to him? He grasped Alex's jaw firmly, keeping Alex's eyes trained on him. "You want me to tell you exactly what I'm going to do, boy?" he demanded. Alex gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I'm going to spoil you," Skinner said, his voice strained with emotion. "I'm going to feed you better food than you've ever had in your life." He paused and slipped his hand down to press against Alex's flat stomach, resting it there. "You're too thin. We're going to take care of that." He raised his hand to Alex's face, tracing the shadows under his eyes gently. "Looks like you haven't had a good night's sleep in a long time. Maybe never. We're going to take care of that too. You're going to sleep better than you ever have before, because for once you'll truly be safe. No one's getting in here, Alex. I've made sure of that." Alex said nothing, just eyed Skinner suspiciously. The look on his face suggested that he thought Skinner had gone insane. Skinner leaned closer, his breath tickling Alex's skin. "The tub in the master bath is big enough for two. I'm going to get you in there and keep you there until you finally learn to relax." Now Alex turned to Skinner, his expression having gone past incredulous to completely astonished. "You're crazy," he said, trying to push Skinner away. "You've gone out of your fucking mind. I don't—" Skinner grabbed him roughly and pulled him close, bending him back, pressing his mouth close to Alex's ear. When he spoke, the deep rumbling sound of his voice seemed to flow into Alex, into every part of him, curling in the pit of his belly, awakening his cock. "I'm going to fuck you." Alex inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. He stared at Skinner, dazed and panting as Skinner's hands roamed over his body. One hand settled on Alex's ass and squeezed hard. "I'm going to fuck you, Alex," he said again, the low alpha male timbre of his voice making Alex squirm, his cock straining against his jeans. "Long and slow and hard. I'm going to make you come harder than you ever have in your life and when you do, you'll be screaming my name." Alex had gone stock still, his eyes eating up his face. "You're going to force me," he whispered. Skinner laughed and turned Alex's face up, taking his mouth in a slow, languid kiss. He released him and stepped away, leaving Alex standing alone by the wall, mouth still open in shock. "No, Alex," Skinner said quietly. "I never had to force you before and I'm not going to start now. You'll come to me when you're ready." He turned and left the room. Alex stood staring after him, stunned speechless. He almost wished Skinner had hit him, beaten him, locked him up. He understood pain and punishment. He understood the gun hand that ruled his dark world. But Skinner's soft words had utterly undone him, the whispered promises of this idyllic, peaceful life so unfamiliar, so alien to him that he was left terrified and devastated, shaken to his very core by this terrible kindness. "Alex!" Skinner called from the kitchen. He carried the plates to the table at the far end of the kitchen, a teatowel slung over his shoulder. Alex stood just outside the room, tense and withdrawn, watching Skinner but making no move to join him. Skinner tossed the teatowel on the kitchen counter and sat down at the table. "Come on," he said cheerfully, pouring himself a glass of iced tea. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving." Alex didn't respond. Skinner poured a generous amount of steak sauce over his New York strip and sliced into it. The meat was fresh from the grill range, cooked to perfection, tender enough to cut with a fork. Skinner chewed for a moment and then put his fork down. "Alex," he said, leaning one elbow on the table. "You're still determined to get away from here, right?" Alex made an exasperated sound and looked away. Skinner watched him, waiting patiently. Finally, Alex looked at him, his eyes daring Skinner to make fun of him. "Yes," he said, biting the word off. "Well," Skinner said, buttering his biscuit thoughtfully. "If you're going to escape, you've got to keep your strength up, don't you? When was the last time you ate?" Alex fumed, sure Skinner was making sport of him, treating him like a little kid who needed to be talked into having an appetite. But, come to think of it, he really couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. And, he had to admit to himself, the food Skinner had prepared looked good. His stomach growled at the sight of the grilled steaks. It had been the smell of them sizzling on the grill that had drawn him downstairs to begin with, watching from across the room as Skinner prepared the meal, moving easily between grill and stove with the relaxed ease of one who truly loves to cook. There were baked potatoes too, split open and steaming, piled high with crumbled bacon and cheddar cheese. A small serving bowl sat in the middle of the table, brimming with crisp sugar snap peas. There were fried onions and mushrooms to accompany the steaks and a basket of buttermilk biscuits, fresh from the oven. Alex couldn't remember ever seeing such a meal, in fact. His stomach protested again, loudly, and he found himself moving closer to the table. He stood beside the empty chair across from Skinner, looking down at the full plate that awaited him. Beside the plate were a fork and a sharp steak knife with a thick wooden handle. Alex looked up at Skinner, a question in his eyes. Skinner glanced up at Alex, then back down at his plate, cutting another bite of steak as he spoke. "Yes, I gave you a knife. Sit." Alex smirked, unable to resist a dig at Skinner. "You're not very good at this kidnapping thing. Lesson one when you're holding someone captive: lock up the sharps." Skinner arched an eyebrow at him and took a bite of potato. "Alex, either use it on me or use it on the steak. Neither one of us is getting any younger." Alex stood stubbornly for another moment, glaring at Skinner. He had practically dared Alex to... To what? Alex tried to picture himself seizing the knife, holding it to Skinner's throat. Threatening to cut him, to torture the alarm code out of him digit by agonizing digit. He pictured Skinner's face, contorted with pain, dreading the next deadly kiss of the blade. Alex shivered and looked up at Skinner. Skinner watched him calmly, sipping his tea, his eyes serene over the rim of the glass. Alex stifled a curse and sat down heavily in the chair, his shoulders slumping in defeat. It was a frightening thing to be known by someone, more frightening still to be known better than he knew himself. Skinner had lain the table without concern, knowing full well that Alex would never—could never—truly hurt him again. Alex's fingers curled around the handle of the knife, squeezing until it hurt. He looked up at Skinner, his green eyes haunted. "Why aren't you afraid of me?" he asked softly. "I'm afraid of Krycek," Skinner said simply, his voice quiet in the still room. "But you're not him. He's someone you pretend to be. You put him on just like that black leather jacket. You become the thug, the assassin that Spender wants you to be. You've been doing it so long that sometimes it gets hard for you to remember just where Krycek ends and Alex begins." Alex stared at him, frozen, Skinner's words falling on him like rain. "I used to hate Krycek. He started coming into my room at night, not often, just every now and then. He wanted something from me. I wanted something from him. I fucked him hard, trying to make him feel how much I hated him. But no matter how hard I fucked him, he took it and never complained, never asked for more than he got. We went on like that for a time. But after a while, I stopped wanting to hurt him. I started wanting to know more about him. And one night, I looked down and you looked back up at me. You'd just come and you were lying there in my arms, your skin dewy with sweat. You looked up at me, your eyes so big and dark, and I knew that I was looking at Alex. The secret self you never show to anyone else. That's when I fell in love with you, and I've never been afraid of you since." Alex's hand was shaking. He hastily put it in his lap and stared down at his plate, the food shimmering through a prism of tears. "Eat now, Alex," Skinner said gently. "Before it gets cold." That night, they stood at Alex's door. It was early but both men were exhausted. "Good night, Alex," Skinner said. "My door is open and it's going to stay that way." Without another word, he turned and walked down the hall to the master bedroom. Alex watched him go, then turned and went into his room, closing the door quietly behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, tired, confused, unable to shake the persistent ache in his heart. He scrubbed a hand across his face and looked around the room. It was cozy and perfect, the sort of room he'd always dreamed of having. And he wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Alex put his head in his hand and rocked back and forth, one arm wrapped around himself. Why did it have to be so fucking perfect? He felt himself wanting to surrender to it, wanting to walk into Skinner's room and crawl into bed with him, beg him to make everything all right. A brief fantasy played itself out in his mind, he and Skinner, staying there at the cabin forever. Finally, peace. Alex stood abruptly and began to pace, his hands clenching and unclenching. He couldn't do this. He couldn't give in to it. He couldn't let himself love this place. It was all wrong. Wrong. He had to remember that. He undressed and crawled under the covers, huddling there in a miserable ball. It was a long time before he fell asleep. Skinner greeted him the next morning with a huge breakfast. Alex sat on a barstool, trying again unsuccessfully to convince Skinner to let him leave. Skinner responded to his renewed pleas with another helping of scrambled eggs and sausage. Alex lost his temper. Skinner merely poured himself a glass of orange juice and went upstairs to shower, leaving Alex alone in the kitchen, shouting to himself. Alex spent the balance of the day sitting in the loft, in the window seat under the A-frame, his arms wrapped around his knees, looking out over the valley. The view was breathtaking, a light fog wreathing the snow-capped mountains, a tiny house appearing here and there through the mist. Alex's stomach hurt and he hunched forward a little, worry eating at him. He stared out over the mountaintops, then closed his eyes. He had been missed by now, he knew that. Somewhere Spender's lackeys would be looking for him and the old man was not someone accustomed to disappointment. They would never stop looking until they found him or until... "Alex," Skinner said suddenly, standing behind him. "Relax. They're not coming. They have no idea where we are." Alex flinched and turned to look at Skinner, his face colorless. He stood up, an odd expression on his face, and walked quickly to his room, slamming the door behind him. Puzzled, Skinner watched him go, but did not follow. That night, Skinner was awakened by an odd keening sound. Groggy from sleep, he sat up in the dark, fumbling for his glasses on the bedside table. He flipped on the light and glanced at the clock. 3:48 a.m. He heard the sound again, louder this time, interspersed with desperate, heaving sobs. "Alex!" Skinner shouted, throwing back the covers. He hit the floor running, grabbing his robe from the back of the chair and hastily shrugging into it as he sprinted down the hall. He reached Alex's door and threw it open, flipping on the light. Alex lay in the fetal position in the middle of the bed, his arms wrapped around his head, his entire body shaking violently. Skinner stepped forward cautiously. Alex was obviously in the grip of a night terror, or at the very least, a vivid nightmare, and he didn't want to take a chance on making the situation worse. He leaned forward, listening. Alex was talking...begging, it sounded like, hoarse words being forced out between the sobs. "Please don't...oh God I'm sorry...sorry..." Skinner moved a little closer, shocked by Alex's appearance. He was soaked with sweat, the old T-shirt and pajama bottoms Skinner had given him to sleep in stuck to his skin, translucent in places. "Alex?" Skinner said softly. "Alex, wake up." Alex did not seem to hear him. He curled more tightly in on himself, rocking back and forth, wailing now, his voice strained. "Please," he said again, brokenly. "Please...my fault...all my fault...please..." Skinner reached the bed, tentatively reaching out to him. He had read somewhere that it wasn't a good idea to wake someone from a nightmare but this was beyond a nightmare. Alex was struggling, fighting the bedclothes, his eyes shut tight against whatever personal hell he was living through. He kept begging, babbling in his broken voice, gasping for breath between sobs, his hands clutching his sweat-soaked hair. Skinner reached for him, unwilling to let him suffer his demons any longer. He touched Alex's shoulder gently. "Alex?" Alex's entire body tensed. He rocked harder, pulling away as he did, huddling up by the headboard. "No!" he shouted, his voice ravaged with pain. "NO! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He sobbed steadily, repeating the words over and over again. "I'm sorry...sorry...please..." Skinner sat on the edge of the bed. "It's all right," he heard himself saying quietly. Maybe he could break the nightmare's grip on Alex, be the voice that could offer him absolution for whatever it was he'd done. "It's all right, Alex. You don't have to be sorry anymore. It's all over now. You're forgiven." Alex went very still for a moment, then began to cry harder, his shoulders shaking. "I'm sorry," he moaned, his face hidden. "I'm so sorry...please don't...please..." "Alex," Skinner said again, his voice low and calm. "Come on now. Wake up." Taking a deep breath, he went with his gut instinct and grasped Alex by both shoulders, pulling him into a sitting position. Alex was still crying, his eyes closed tightly, their wet lashes plastered to his cheeks. Skinner studied his tear-streaked face, saw the anguish there, wondered how long the boy had been carrying this unbearable burden with him. Alex bowed his head, raising one hand to clutch Skinner's shirt in a death-grip. Weeping, caught between this world and the one in his mind, he let Skinner pull him close, too weak to resist. "I'm sorry," he choked, his head coming to rest on Skinner's shoulder. Skinner wrapped his arms around him, held him close, felt the tremors running through him. "It's all right, Alex," he said softly. "Let it go." Alex made a whimpering noise in the back of his throat, his tears soaking the thin cotton beneath his cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered, grief-stricken. "Oh God, Jamie, I'm sorry." He cried a little more, still clutching Skinner's shirt, drifting deeper and deeper into sleep, the horrors that had chased him finally letting him rest. Skinner gently lay Alex down and pulled the covers up over him. He sat there beside him for a long time, watching him sleep, wondering what the memories were that haunted him so cruelly. He wondered something else, too, turning it over and over in his mind as though it were a puzzle he could solve if only he worried at it long enough. Jamie? Skinner sat at the bar in the kitchen, watching Alex toy listlessly with his breakfast. "That was quite a nightmare you had last night." Alex shrugged. "Don't remember it." Skinner hesitated, watching Alex staring out the window, his cold french toast forgotten. After a moment, unable to keep his own curiosity at bay, Skinner put down his coffee cup and asked the question that had kept him from getting back to sleep the night before. "Alex? Who is Jamie?" Alex visibly flinched, the color draining from his face. He stared at Skinner for a moment, his mouth open in shock. Then he rose, stiffly, and left the room without another word. Skinner listened to Alex's rapid footfalls on the stairs, followed by the sound of his door slamming. Skinner sighed and stirred his coffee, the clinking of the spoon against the cup loud in the ensuing silence. Leaden clouds had gathered over the mountains overnight and the snow was falling now, piling up quickly on the roof outside. Alex avoided him all day, perched in his now customary place in the window seat, lost in his own thoughts. He refused to come down for lunch or dinner and ignored all of Skinner's attempts at conversation. Finally, that night, Skinner went to bed and lay awake in the dark, troubled by the revelation that Alex had unwittingly made. Damn, he thought. Every time he thought he got to know something about Alex, he ended up with more questions than answers. He turned over, punching the pillow into shape, and closed his eyes. He was nearly asleep when the soft, husky voice spoke in the darkness. "I'm ready." Skinner opened his eyes and turned on the bedside lamp. Alex stood there in the doorway, naked, his gaze serious and intense. He crossed the room, moving with easy grace, the muscles flexing under his smooth bare skin, so golden in the lamplight. He stood beside the bed. Waiting. Skinner threw back the covers, his cock already achingly hard just from the sight of him. Alex climbed onto the bed and straddled him, the heat and friction of Alex's hard cock against his making Skinner cry out. He reached up and grabbed Alex's hips, holding him still. Skinner looked up at him, his heart pounding, almost dizzy with arousal. He had waited too long for this moment. He had no intention of coming too soon. Alex looked down at him, thick lashes sweeping over luminous green eyes, seemingly lit from within. He was breathing hard, his dusky pink nipples standing out, his hands mapping the flat planes of Skinner's chest, coming to rest over his heart. "I'm ready," Alex said again. "I want you to do what you said." Skinner ran his hands along the inside of Alex's thighs, feeling the sensitive skin twitching under his palms. "And what was that?" he asked Alex, his voice soft and deep. Alex threw his head back, exposing the soft vulnerable curve of his throat, speaking his exquisite submission. "Fuck me," he whispered, his smoky voice trembling. He looked down at Skinner again, his eyes burning, his hips beginning to rock, grinding their cocks together, heat spreading from the delicious friction. "Fuck me like you said you would," Alex husked. "Long and slow and hard. I want it hard. Make me feel it." "Yes," Skinner gasped, his hand finding Alex's cock, feeling the moisture there. Alex took Skinner's hand and brought it to his lips. He licked and sucked Skinner's fingers, one by one, tasting himself there. He raised himself up on all fours and moved down Skinner's body, pausing to gently nip and suck along Skinner's chest and belly as he did. He paused for a moment over Skinner's cock, jutting up from its soft nest of dark hair, and then opened his mouth, taking all of him in at once. "God!" Skinner cried, hands fisting in the sheets, his hips bucking as Alex's lush wet mouth engulfed his cock, his skillful tongue teasing and tormenting him, driving him perilously close to the edge. "No!" Skinner managed to shout, breathing hard. He reached down and grabbed a handful of Alex's silky dark hair, gripping it tightly, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to let Alex know who was in control. Alex looked up, panting, his lips glistening. The tingling in his scalp was delicious. He grinned and playfully gave Skinner's cock one more defiant lick, trying to make Skinner pull harder. Skinner refused, merely giving a firm tug indicating that he wanted Alex to come to him. Annoyed, Alex made Skinner wait, exacting a small price for Skinner's refusal to play as rough as Alex liked. Skinner indulged Alex's love of pleasure/pain, but only to a point. Skinner growled a command and pointed to a spot on the bed beside him. Alex, shivering with anticipation, obediently crawled forward on his hands and knees. He knelt beside Skinner, gasping as he was grabbed roughly, Skinner's hand in his hair forcing his head back. Skinner's breath was hot on his skin as Skinner licked and kissed along Alex's long white throat, his jawline, stopping occasionally to lick and bite. "I'm not ready to come yet, boy," Skinner whispered into Alex's ear. "Not until I'm in that sweet ass, until I hear you beg me for mercy." Alex gasped and trembled, his eyes closed, his mouth open. "Yes," he whimpered. "Please, now. Fuck me now." "On your hands and knees," Skinner growled, knowing how erotic it was for Alex to be ordered into position, how he shivered at the sound of Skinner's alpha male rumble. "Ass in the air." Alex obeyed, breathing raggedly, his cock so hard it hurt. He pressed his face into the pillows, spreading his legs wide. He felt the mattress move beneath them as Skinner moved to kneel behind him. He heard the bedside table drawer open, then the sound of a condom packet being torn open. Alex wriggled, spreading his legs wider, barely able to wait. He closed his eyes, panted through his open mouth. —Please...please, I can't wait— "I said get that ass up, boy," Skinner said, his voice low and dangerous, punctuating the reminder with a stinging slap to Alex's right buttock. Alex moaned, clutching the pillow, pushing his ass up and out, so close to coming he hardly dared to breathe. "Yes! God!" Alex grunted, squeezing his eyes shut again. "More, please, please-" He cried out and bucked his hips as Skinner delivered another sharp slap, this time to the left cheek. "Yes...God...yes..." Skinner leaned over Alex, one hand tracing his long limber spine. "That's just a taste, Alex," Skinner breathed, enjoying the torment. Alex was so responsive, so open to him, so ready for anything Skinner wanted to give him. "You come before I say and I'm going to blister that ass. Is that what you want, boy? You like that, don't you?" "Yes," Alex whimpered, thrusting his ass out, the glorious heat spreading to every nerve ending in his body, his cock painfully hard and dripping. Alex knew better than to touch it. Skinner would tell him when he could. "Fuck me, please...I need it...please..." Skinner flipped open the bottle of lube, poured it into his hand to warm it. "No," Alex breathed, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Don't. I want to feel you." Skinner hesitated. "I'm not going to do you dry, Alex." "Please. I can take it." "No," Skinner's tone was final. "I won't do that to you." Alex groaned and raised his head, looking at Skinner over his shoulder. "All right," he said, his voice strained. "Use it. But not too much, okay? And don't stretch me. I want to feel you for..." he trailed off for a moment, resting his head back on the pillow. "For a long time," he finished softly. "Please." "All right, Alex," Skinner said softly. He lubed Alex carefully, not using as much as he would have liked, but making sure the younger man was in no danger of being damaged. He positioned his cock against Alex's ready hole, his hands gripping Alex's hips. "All right, boy. I'm going to fuck you hard and you're going to take it, all of it. Everything I've got to give you." "Yes," Alex gasped. "Yes, yes, do it-" Skinner entered him in one smooth motion, burying himself deep, his balls resting against Alex's ass. Alex howled, thrusting back up to meet him, his hands roaming over the mattress, clinging to the headboard, hanging on for what was to come. Skinner lived up to his promise, pounding into him hard, the room filling with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, Skinner's hoarse shouts of pleasure, Alex's increasingly strained voice, babbling incoherently, Russian and English mixing together in a torrent of bliss. "You want to come, boy?" Skinner growled, his body glistening with sweat, droplets glittering on Alex's naked back. "Beg for it. Beg me to let you come." "Oh...God..." Alex moaned, thrashing under Skinner. "Please let me...please...Oh God I'm so close..." "Can you feel it?" Skinner grunted, thrusting again. "Can you feel how much I love you?" "Yes...yes..." Alex panted, spiraling toward his climax, his body moving in perfect sync with Skinner's, his very heartbeat seeming to pulse in time with his lover's, the man who seemed to know how to play Alex's body like a finely tuned instrument. "I feel it..." Skinner slammed into him again, grimacing with the effort of holding his own orgasm back. Just a little longer... "I told you," Skinner grunted, breathing hard, "that you would come screaming my name. Let me hear it, Alex. Scream for me." "Skinner!" Alex shouted, writhing under him, mindless with pleasure, his skin slick with sweat. He could feel the pressure building, could feel his cock straining to hold it back. "Please, Skinner!" Skinner's hands suddenly gripped him more tightly, his rhythm slowing almost imperceptibly. "No, boy," he rumbled, leaning over Alex's back, "open your eyes and look at me." Alex obeyed, his eyes hazy and unfocused, fuck-stupid, dark with arousal. Skinner snapped his fingers in front of Alex's face, waited for him to really look at him, to see him. "I said I want you to scream my name." Alex hesitated, then closed his eyes. He bit his lip, rocking his hips as Skinner resumed his punishing pace, driving deep inside him, so deep. Alex moved with him, moaning, beginning to surrender to the sheer sensory overload. "Yes...now...please..." "Come for me, Alex," Skinner commanded, finally giving himself over to his own climax, his hoarse shouts of completion ringing off the walls. "Yes!" Alex screamed as Skinner's hand reached beneath him and stroked his cock, squeezing it, pushing Alex over the edge. "Yes...oh God...oh WALTER!" Alex shot, his load gushing over Walter's hand, and they collapsed, spent and panting. They lay like that for a few moments, Walter draped over Alex possessively, one hand stroking the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair plastered to Alex's forehead. Slowly, he eased off of Alex and went into the bathroom, returning with a warm wet washcloth. He cleaned them both up, tossed the washcloth into the sink and got back into bed, spooning up behind Alex. They lay in silence for a few minutes, each man lost in his own thoughts. Walter kissed the back of Alex's neck gently, wrapped his arm around Alex's waist. The feeling of Alex's hand settling on his and giving it a brief squeeze made Walter breathe a quiet sigh of relief. He rested his head against Alex's shoulder, dropping a kiss there. "Good night, Alex," he whispered. After a moment came the soft reply. "Good night, Walter." Walter awoke the next morning feeling like he'd run a marathon the night before. He stretched, smiling despite his aching muscles. He'd finally broken through to Alex, finally managed to get the walls to come down a little. Now they could work harder on breaking Spender's hold on Alex, work on building a new life together, and let the world outside be damned. He opened his eyes and reached for Alex. Suddenly he froze. Alex was gone. Walter ran his hand over the pillow, lingering over the hollow place where Alex's head had rested. It was cold, as were the sheets on that side of the bed. Walter jumped up, grabbing for his glasses. He threw on his robe and walked barefoot down the hall, barely noticing the freezing hardwood floors. He went straight to Alex's room. Had he had a change of heart last night and withdrawn into himself again? Walter stood in the doorway, his heart sinking at the sight of the empty room, Walter's old T-shirt and pajama bottoms neatly folded at the foot of the bed. Increasingly worried, he tried to reassure himself. Maybe Alex just woke up early and got restless. He certainly couldn't have gone anywhere, so it was just a simple matter of finding him. Walter stepped into the hallway and went around the corner, finding the window seat empty. He walked to the railing overlooking the first floor. "Alex?" Only silence greeted him. Annoyed now, Walter went downstairs, his eyes sweeping the room for any sign of Alex. The downstairs bathroom was empty, as was the kitchen. There were no dishes in the sink, no new books open on the coffee table. A glance at the front and back doors showed them to still be locked just as he had left them the day of their arrival, the alarm pads blinking serenely, still armed and ready. His pulse beginning to race, Walter undertook a thorough search of the cabin, even looking in closets and under beds. "ALEX!" he shouted again. His senses were on overload, telling him that something was very wrong. "ALEX!" Suddenly, he thought of the one place he hadn't checked. The garage. He hadn't been out there since the night they'd come to the cabin, when he'd made Alex come outside with him so he could move the car into the garage and bring the bags in. Walter rushed into the kitchen toward the door that led to the garage. That door was locked but not wired. He hadn't thought it necessary since the garage itself was well-secured, with the same locks and alarm system as the cabin had. As soon as he reached the door, he knew where Alex had gone. The door's lock bore telltale scratches, fine enough to escape detection by the average observer, but like a red flag to someone with Walter's experience. Walter's stomach did a sickening flip-flop as he felt the freezing cold air seeping in under the door. He opened it and burst into the garage. The car was still there, silent and cold. Walter knew why. Alex could not have gotten the car out without opening the garage door, triggering the alarm and awakening Walter. There was the matter, too, of the security shutters. Walter's heart sank as he remembered himself bragging to Alex about the garage having the identical security system as the cabin. Alex would have known an attempt to crash the car through the door would have brought the steel barrier down immediately. There would have been no way, in such a small space, to gain the speed and momentum necessary to make it out before the shutter stopped him. Walter stood barefoot in the snow frozen on the cold cement, staring at the neat hole toward the top of the garage door. Light snow continued to blow in, eddying in the early morning breeze. Slowly, Walter walked toward the garage door, disbelieving, his heart shuddering with pain. The scene was dispassionate, cruel in its simplicity. The small stepladder Walter kept around for home repairs sat abandoned in front of the garage door. Directly above it, the row of thin wooden panels, the empty space in the middle like a missing tooth. Alex had obviously been clever enough to avoid the glass, knowing the alarm would be tripped by even the smallest amount of pressure. Walter moved the stepladder closer to the door and climbed up to the top step. He peered through the hole where the missing panel had been, squinting hard at the snow on the ground outside. Mercifully, the fresh snow had evidently started not too long before and had remained light, although the darkening sky promised that would change. Walter was able to see faint footprints leading away, not quite hidden by the new fallen snow, but fading fast. Walter climbed down, stunned and reeling from the shock of Alex's betrayal. "Goddamn you, Alex!" he roared, grabbing the stepladder and hurling it across the garage. It crashed into some low shelves, scattering cans of wood stain and paintbrushes. Walter stalked back into the cabin, slamming the door behind him. He took the stairs two at a time, his mind racing, scarcely able to believe that the trusting lover he'd held in his arms the night before had crept away as he slept. It was all an act, Walter thought angrily. That lying little son of a bitch came to my bed, made me believe it, all of it, and now...Walter paused and looked out of the window at the snowflakes drifting down. Now the damn fool might just die out there if I don't find him first. He ripped open dresser drawers and flung open the closet door, quickly grabbing warm clothes, gloves, a hat and parka. He sat on the edge of the bed, yanking thick thermal socks over his frozen feet, replaying Alex's every word, every gasp and moan, every smooth thrust of his hips. The sound of Walter's name— Walter, not Skinner—on Alex's lips had been like a prayer, like an offering. A gift Walter had accepted gratefully, his heart full of love for this beautiful creature, a myth no more, who finally lived, whole and breathing, in his arms. Walter stepped into the closet and spun the dial on the wall safe hidden inside, removing the 9mm he kept there for protection. He jammed it into his waistband, slipping into his parka as he headed for the stairs. Downstairs, he quickly punched in the alarm code and opened the doors, stepping out onto the snow-covered porch. He looked around, his eyes sweeping the perimeter of his property for any sign of Alex. Walter muttered to himself, shoving his hands into his gloves. None of his clothes had been missing, nor any of his boots or gloves. Alex had apparently escaped with only his own clothes and that damned leather jacket to protect him from a Blue Ridge winter. The mountains were notoriously unforgiving of the inexperienced and the foolhardy. Walter suddenly froze, the realization hitting him like a punch in the gut. Alex might be many things, but he was neither foolish nor inexperienced. A small voice spoke chillingly in the back of Walter's mind. He doesn't care if he makes it. Walter shook his head as if trying to ward the thought away. "Why?" he said aloud. "Alex, why?" He stared at the snowy ground, at the footprints leading away from this place, away from him. Walter was hurt, his face lined with worry. Was Alex so frightened of Spender that he was willing to risk his life to get back to him? Walter swore, stepping down off the porch and striding off in the direction of Alex's fading footprints. Or was it someone else he was trying to get back to? Walter remembered the agonized sound of Alex's voice as he begged for absolution, pleading with Jamie to forgive him. Forgive him for what? And who the hell was Jamie? Another lover? Someone waiting for Alex, someone who meant so much to him that he would... Walter felt a surge of jealous anger as he made his way over the hill, following Alex's path toward the woods. He pulled his hat down over his ears resolutely. One way or the other, he would find Alex, and once he got the little rat dragged back to the cabin and thawed out, he was going to come clean, tell Walter everything, if... Walter swallowed hard and walked faster, his boots kicking up plumes of fine, powdery snow. If he found him in time. Alex's footprints led not down the steep winding drive, but into the woods alongside. Walter was momentarily puzzled, but then he understood. Alex's training would cause him to choose a path that would allow for an easier descent, with the trees providing cover, as well as making it harder for him to be tracked. Walter cursed again under his breath as he made his way over fallen logs and through snow-heavy branches, Alex's footprints getting harder and harder to spot amongst the clumps of frozen leaves and bramble. He searched for an hour, maybe two, he didn't know anymore. His face was numb, his hands stiff inside his gloves. His feet were cold and aching despite the thick socks and heavy boots. He was tempted to call Alex's name but stopped himself. If Alex heard him calling he was certain to bolt and Walter would lose any chance of finding him. Walter followed the footprints doggedly, sometimes losing the trail and having to backtrack, sometimes kneeling down stiffly in the snow, desperately trying to determine if he was looking at a footprint or just a thin place in the snow. He stepped into a thicket, the trees crowding so closely overhead that he could barely see the sky past their skeletal branches, the snow drifting down gently on his face as he looked up. His body was telling him it was time to quit, but his heart, his gut wouldn't let him. Alex was here somewhere. He couldn't have gotten far, not yet. Walter was going to find him, no matter how long it took. He walked on, finally losing the trail altogether and going on pure instinct. Broken branches, small patches of flattened undergrowth, any place where the pristine snow appeared to have been disturbed, Walter methodically explored. Sweating now with the exertion, he picked his way through another thicket, pushing past the low-hanging branches. He stood still for a moment, dragging a gloved hand across his reddened nose, and looked around, deciding which direction to go. Suddenly, he heard it. A whimper of pain, soft and muffled, almost too faint to hear. Walter stood motionless, listening hard, his eyes darting in all directions. His heart hammered in his chest. Could it be him? "Alex?" Walter called, looking around for any movement, any flash of color in the winter white and brown. He heard it again, softer this time. He cocked his head, sure it was coming from somewhere off to his right. "Alex?" he shouted again. "Alex!" The wind whistling through the trees was the only reply. "ALEX!" Walter shouted, heading in the direction of the last sound he'd heard. "Come on, Alex! Where are you?" He stopped, listening hard, not wanting the crunching sound of his boots to drown out a call for help. After a few moments he heard a low moan. Walter hurried toward it, batting branches out of his way, his own harsh breathing loud in his ears. Please let him be all right...please God, let him be all right. Suddenly, he saw him. Alex was curled into a tight ball, huddled up against a fallen log. His skin was waxy pale, his lips already turning blue. Walter fell to his knees beside him, tearing off his gloves. He touched Alex's face, felt the cold skin under his hands. Alex's eyes fluttered open briefly and he weakly tried to push Walter's hand away. "No," he moaned. "Go, Walter...leave me..." "No, Alex," Walter said, grasping the collar of Alex's jacket and shaking him. "What the hell is the matter with you? Why didn't you answer me?" Alex turned his face away, his eyes closed. He tried to grab Walter's hand but his fingers were stiff and cold. With great effort, he opened his eyes, looking imploringly at Walter. "Please," he whispered. "Don't...can't be here...when they come." Walter stared at Alex, watched as his eyes closed again. Alex was shivering, but not as hard as he should have been. Walter knew he was hypothermic or close to it. He had to get Alex back to the cabin quickly. He quickly ran his hands over Alex's body, checking for injuries. When he moved Alex's right leg, Alex whimpered with pain. Walter took a closer look at Alex's feet and saw that one boot was still caught in some roots protruding above the frozen ground. Carefully, Walter eased Alex's foot free, careful not to move it too much. Alex moaned softly. "Alex?" Walter said quickly, cradling Alex's foot in his lap. "Your ankle...is it broken?" It took a few moments for Alex to answer. "Don't...don't know..." He opened his eyes briefly, then they drooped shut again, as if the lids were too heavy. Walter leaned up, tapped him gently on the face. "Alex? Don't go to sleep. Stay awake for me. Alex." Alex moaned again, muttered something unintelligible. It was obvious that he was getting more groggy and confused, having a hard time staying awake. These were dangerous signs, Walter knew. It was time to go, broken ankle or not. Walter put his gloves on and stood, girding his strength, willing his tired muscles to hold out just a little longer. Stooping down, he grabbed Alex under his arms and pulled him up, managing to get him slung over one shoulder. Alex mewled with pain as his injured ankle swung against Walter's leg. "I'm sorry, Alex," Walter grunted, hefting his burden with difficulty. "Hang in there for me." It was a blessing, Walter knew, that Alex had been injured as soon as he had been. Had he gotten farther from the cabin, it would have been far more difficult for Walter to carry him back without help. Walter retraced his steps, occasionally having to stop and rest for a moment, the cold air searing his throat as he gulped it in. "Almost there, Alex," he panted, struggling up the hill. "Almost there, boy." Walter could hardly believe it when he finally saw the cabin ahead of them. Groaning with the effort, he made it the last few feet, swaying a little as he climbed the front steps. Alex was limp and unresponsive as Walter carefully slid him down into a sitting position beside the front doors. Putting his own discomfort aside, Walter unlocked the front doors and stripped off his gloves, forcing his stiff fingers to key in the alarm code. Stepping back out into the cold, he grabbed Alex under the arms and slowly dragged him inside, careful of his ankle. Alex slipped briefly into consciousness, his eyes flickering open and then closing again. He mumbled something Walter couldn't hear. "Hang on, Alex," Walter said, quickly shrugging out of his parka. He took off his hat and flung it aside, then sat down and pulled off his boots. The cabin's heat was working quickly on Walter, his warm clothes having protected him from the worst of the cold. He moved quickly back over to Alex and scooped him up in his arms, grunting with the effort of carrying Alex's dead weight up the stairs. Walter carried him into the master bedroom and lay him gently on the bed. He looked at Alex, lying there so pale and still. There was no more time. He had to get him warm. Walter stripped quickly, tossing his clothes on the floor. Naked and shivering a little in the sudden cold, he went to work on Alex's clothes. Alex was like a ragdoll, his head lolling as Walter divested him of his leather jacket and shirt. He gently pulled off Alex's right boot and sock, wincing as he examined the injured ankle. It was already bruising, bright yellow and purple decorating the cold skin. He held it in his hand, turned it carefully, relieved not to feel bones grinding against one another. He didn't think it was broken, but it was definitely a bad sprain. Walter finished stripping Alex and then crawled into bed, lying on top of him. Alex whimpered and tossed his head on the pillow. Walter pulled the covers over them both and pressed tight against Alex, beginning to shiver harder himself. Alex's skin was like marble, so cold it burned to touch him. "Easy, Alex," Walter whispered, touching Alex's face, stroking it gently. "Come on. Come back to me." They lay there for an hour before some color began to return to Alex's face. Walter felt him stir a little, felt the warmth slowly returning to his skin. "Alex?" he said softly. "Alex, look at me." Slowly, Alex obeyed, opening his eyes and looking up at Walter, confused and disoriented. Walter smiled at him, relief washing over him. He looked down at his beautiful, maddening, enigmatic Alex, silently sending up a prayer of thanks. He stroked Alex's hair, comforting him. He had many questions, questions he intended to get answered, but not now. There would be time for that later. Right now, taking care of Alex was most important. "Walter?" Alex said, his voice faint. "You're crushing me. Get off." He began to struggle weakly. Walter laughed and held Alex still, kissing him. Alex's lips were warm and pliant again, though his face was still pale. "I'm trying to get you warmed up, boy," Walter answered gruffly. "Do you remember what happened?" Alex closed his eyes and looked away. He swallowed but did not speak. "It's all right," Walter said quietly. "There'll be plenty of time to talk about this later. Right now, I want to get you into a hot bath." He got up carefully and quickly pulled on clean socks, sweatpants and a T-shirt. Suddenly, Alex spoke behind him, his voice soft and strained. "You shouldn't have brought me back." Walter stopped in the bathroom doorway. He turned to look at Alex, hurt and anger welling up inside him. He walked back over to the bed. Alex wouldn't turn to look at him but Walter had his say anyway. "That was a damned stupid thing to do, Alex. You could have gotten yourself killed. If that doesn't matter to you, fine. But you might have given some thought to what it would do to me to lose you." Alex's chest hitched, his mouth contorted with pain. "I don't know why you did this," Walter continued, "but no matter how long it takes, you're going to tell me. I deserve that much." He went into the bathroom, resisting the urge to slam the door. He slowly got himself under control, leaning on the bathroom sink, staring at his own reflection in the mirror. Don't lose it now, Walt. He's hurting. He's scared. Don't lay into him until he's strong enough to hold his own. Walter turned and busied himself filling the sunken tub, checking the water frequently to make sure it wasn't too hot. Once the tub was full, he helped Alex up from the bed, despite his protests, and into the bathroom, Alex hopping along on one leg, his other foot raised to avoid putting pressure on his ankle. Gingerly, with Walter's help, he stepped into the bathtub, slowly easing into the steaming water, hissing a little as the penetrating heat chased the last of the cold from his bones. Walter lay a folded towel behind Alex's head. Alex lay back against it and closed his eyes. Walter sat on the edge of the tub, watching him, thinking about the night before, the way their bodies had fit together so perfectly, the way he had fallen asleep with his arm around Alex's waist, so warm and so his. They sat in silence, except for Alex's periodic requests to get out of the tub, which Walter answered with an admonishing look and more hot water. Finally, Alex gave in and resigned himself to soaking as long as Walter deemed necessary. He kept his face turned away, avoiding Walter's eyes, not wanting to see the hurt and the accusation in them. Finally, Walter helped him to stand, wrapping a thick bath towel around him, and stood him in front of the bathroom's wall heater. Alex stood obediently on one leg, holding on to the sink for balance, while Walter dried him off and helped him into a spare bathrobe. Sitting Alex on the edge of the bed, Walter eased thick socks onto Alex's feet, careful not to put pressure on Alex's sprained ankle. "You're lucky," Walter said, looking up at Alex's pinched face. "It could have easily been broken." Alex nodded and looked away again, dreading what was to come. Walter helped him down the stairs, a slow process made slower by Alex's refusal to be carried like a child, and into the living room. He settled Alex on the sofa and propped him up with cushions, placing two more under his ankle. Alex flushed and looked down as Walter placed a warm knitted throw over him. —don't deserve this I know— Walter didn't speak as he went into the kitchen and put the kettle on for tea, then returned to the living room. He lit the wood in the fireplace and padded back into the kitchen, taking down mugs from the cabinet. Alex sat watching the fire as it strengthened and flourished, bathing the room in its warm glow. He sat there, watching the flames dance, thinking of another fire, another room, long years ago. Suddenly, Walter was at his side, placing a mug in his hands. Alex took it, murmuring his thanks. Walter sat down in the chair across from him, resting his mug on his knee, waiting. Alex stared down at his mug, listening to the hardwood cracking and popping as it burned. A shiver ran through him and he closed his eyes. He was so tired. Walter sat quietly, watching him. "Why, Alex?" The question was brief, spoken softly, but Alex flinched as though it were a whip. "I'm sorry," Alex said quietly, still not meeting Walter's eyes. "I really am sorry." "Don't!" Walter barked, slamming his mug down on the coffee table. "Sorry isn't good enough, Alex. I want to know why. Why you wake up at night, screaming someone else's name. Why you sneaked out of here in the snow without even so much as a pair of gloves. Why you lied to me." Alex's head jerked up. He looked at Skinner, wounded. "I did not lie to you!" Walter leaned forward in his chair, his voice flat. "You came to my bed, Alex. You came to my bed and you let me make love to you and you fell asleep in my arms." He continued, his voice rising. "And the whole time you knew! You KNEW you were going to leave! What was it, Alex, an act? All that begging and thrashing and screaming my name, was it just a role you were playing? Or was it your way of saying goodbye? One last roll in the hay for old Walt? One of those pity fucks you talked about?" Alex's face was red, his eyes full of tears. His fingers gripped the mug so tightly that his knuckles were white. "NO!" he shouted. "I couldn't do that to you. It wasn't like that!" "Well, why don't you tell me how it was?" Walter snapped, sitting back in his chair, his eyes burning into Alex. "Explain it to me." Alex dropped his head, unable to bear looking at Walter's face. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Please believe me. I...I came to you last night because I wanted to, because I wanted to be with you. I didn't want it to be like this, Walter. Please believe me. I didn't want to hurt you." "So why did you leave?" Walter asked, his voice taut with tension. "How can you tell me you didn't want to hurt me? What did you think it was going to be like for me this morning, waking up in an empty bed?" Alex bit his lip, squeezed his eyes shut against the tears. "I had to do it, Walter." "Bullshit," Walter said angrily. "You had to do it? What the hell kind of explanation is that? I know you're scared of Spender, Alex, but—" "You don't understand!" Alex shouted, hiding his face in his hand. His shoulders shook as he choked back the tears. Walter stood quickly and went over to him, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. Alex tried to turn away but Walter wouldn't let him, catching Alex's face between his two large hands, smoothing away the wetness with his thumbs. "Alex, tell me," Walter whispered, his heart breaking at the agony on Alex's face. What the hell had Spender done to him? Fury snapped in Walter's eyes as he thought of the many ways he would like to take revenge on Spender, for Alex and for so much more. "I can't," Alex choked. His eyes searched Walter's face pleadingly. "Please Walter, I can't. Don't make me." "Tell me," Walter said gently, kissing Alex softly on the mouth. "It's all right. Just tell me, Alex. Let it go." A tear rolled down Alex's cheek and he wiped it away roughly. Skinner took the cooling mug of tea from him and set it down on the coffee table. He took Alex's hands in his, squeezing them tightly. "Come on, Alex," Walter urged. "I love you. There's nothing you can tell me that's going to change that." Alex stared down at their hands, struggling with himself, desperate for the relief that telling Walter would bring, terrified of what might happen after. "Walter," Alex whispered. "I'm sorry. I can't." Walter pulled Alex close to him, holding him tight. "Is it Jamie, Alex? Is that what you can't tell me?" Alex whimpered, nodding his head against Walter's shoulder. "You can tell me, Alex," Walter said gently, releasing Alex and looking into his eyes. "I promise you, no matter what you say, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here, and whatever it is, we'll take it on together." "You don't understand," Alex said again, sadly. Walter kissed him again, slow and deep, then sat back to listen, Alex's hand still in his. "Make me understand," he said softly. Alex was silent for a moment, gathering his strength, clutching Walter's hand like a lifeline. Finally, he spoke, his voice weary and sad. "I met Jamie in college. He was my...my first..." "He was your first lover," Walter said quietly. Alex nodded. "My first lover. My first love. I...I was a Consortium kid, grew up in boarding schools, moved around a lot. When I was about sixteen Spender took a real...interest in me." Alex paused and shuddered a little at the memory. "He had me moved to another school near D.C. I visited him on the weekends. Sometimes I stayed with him. My Consortium foster "family" didn't give a shit where I was anyway. He kept pretty close tabs on me, where I went, what classes I took, what grades I got. He told me he was grooming me for something special. I never really liked studying but I...learned to listen to what he said," Alex said awkwardly. "I graduated with a perfect 4.0. Spender had me brought to his office. He told me he was sending me to Georgetown University. He even let me pick my own major, as long as it met with his approval, of course," Alex said bitterly. "I chose Russian studies, which seemed to please him. Then he sent me off to some hellhole in the Everglades for the summer, for 'survival training'." Alex squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to let other dark memories crowd in. "Did you like college?" Walter asked, encouraging Alex to keep talking, to get it out. Alex nodded, his thumb rubbing the back of Walter's hand as he spoke, the contact seeming to comfort him. "I moved into my dorm in September. After that miserable summer in Florida, it was...it was just incredible," he said, smiling at the memory. "In the Consortium schools I went to, they watched us constantly. If we broke even the smallest rule, they knew about it almost before we did. But Georgetown was just amazing. So much going on, so many different people. Not Consortium kids, just real, regular people. I walked around for the first few days feeling like I was in heaven, just wanting to see everything, talk to everyone. I felt free for the first time in my life. I felt normal." Walter nodded his understanding. For a kid like Alex, getting even a little slack in the leash after growing up in the Consortium must have been a heady experience. Alex continued. "I adjusted quickly. I loved my classes. I made some friends, even joined some clubs." He laughed a little. "I hated even to go to bed at night, because I was afraid to miss out on anything. I wanted to make up for all those years I was locked away from the real world." He paused and looked down, frowning. "Spender let me assimilate. That was part of his plan, of course, part of his grooming me for the future. But he also watched me closely. He called me into his office a couple of times that first semester and warned me not to get too friendly with the other students. He wanted me to fit in, to appear to be just another college kid, but he made sure to remind me that I was anything but." Alex was silent for a few moments. He reached for his mug and took a sip of his lukewarm tea. "I met Jamie in my Russian class. He was an Art History major, only taking Russian as an elective. He used to sneak in late to class and the professor would stop the lecture and yell at him." Alex smiled, remembering how Jamie looked, his dark hair unruly, his eyes still puffy from sleep, having stayed up too late the night before. "He'd go all charming and apologetic and have her eating out of his hand and then turn around the next day and do it all over again. Once I was watching him, standing in the aisle, his backpack still slung over one shoulder, wrapping the professor around his little finger. He suddenly looked over and caught me watching him and gave me a little wink." Alex looked down, blushing. "I started sitting in the back, right by the door, and I'd save a seat for him. He'd slip in when her back was turned and sit down quickly beside me, and when she looked up at him he'd be sitting there, smiling innocently like he'd been there the entire time." Alex smiled wistfully and leaned back against the cushions, his hands twisting a little in his lap. "We hit it off right away. He had a dumpy little apartment off-campus and I started spending a lot of time there." He chuckled again. "He was on financial aid and Spender didn't like me to have a lot of spending money, so we ate a lot of cheap pizza and drank a lot of bad beer. We stayed up late at night, arguing politics and talking about anything and everything. I never talked so much in my life, never had anyone to listen. He told me about his family, his Mom and his Dad, his three brothers and his dog. I...I didn't have a family to tell him about, so I made one up," Alex paused, his face pained at the memory of that first lie. "I told him I was from Maryland, that my father was a banker and my mother sold real estate, and that I had a sister and a brother. It made me feel bad, lying to him. He was so open and honest with me. He told me everything. I told him everything, too, but it was all a lie. Everything I told him was made up out of whole cloth. The truth...the truth was not an option." "You didn't have a choice, Alex," Walter said gently. Alex looked down, then continued softly. "We were inseparable, Jamie and me. We went everywhere together. We did everything I had never done before, though of course I couldn't tell him that. He couldn't figure out why I got such a kick out of going to the movies or browsing through the old bookstores in town. Even sitting in his bedroom, listening to those English bands he liked, just the two of us sitting there with a candle sputtering on the windowsill and us sharing a bottle of cheap red wine, to me, it was the most exotic, most precious time of my life. At least, I thought it was, until..." Alex broke off, ducking his head again and avoiding Walter's eyes. "Until he kissed me, that first time. We were sitting on his bedroom floor, listening to music and arguing about who was the better guitar player, Jimmy Page or Pete Townsend, when he leaned over and kissed me. I liked it," Alex admitted, a little embarrassed. "I liked it a lot. I kissed him back. One thing led to another." He shrugged a little, daring a glance at Walter. "We slept together that night, in his bed, with the neighbors downstairs screaming at each other and the cats yowling in the alley, and it was wonderful. I loved it. I loved him." Walter leaned forward and took Alex's hand again. "You don't have to worry about my reaction," he said quietly. "It's all right. We both have pasts, you and I." Alex nodded gratefully. He went on, relieved at finally being able to open the floodgates and let the words pour out. "I had never been in love before. I couldn't even imagine what it was like. But with Jamie, I knew. I understo od it. I loved everything about him, the way his hair curled down around his ears, the way his eyes sparkled, the way he could never tell a joke and get it right the first time. I remember the smell of his skin, the way his chest felt against my cheek, the way it felt to wake up in the morning with his arms around me. It was like nothing I'd ever dreamed of." Alex hesitated, his eyes haunted. "We had a few happy weeks, he and I. We spent every minute together that we could. He invited me to come to his family's place in Connecticut for Christmas. I wanted to go, Walter. I wanted to go so bad. I'd never had a real family, a real Christmas. My mind was working overtime trying to figure out a way to get Spender to let me go. I guess I knew in my heart that it was just a dream. But I wanted it, Walter. I wanted that dream. I was tired of doing what I was told. I was tired of being on the leash. I wanted a chance to do what I wanted to do." Walter listened. He saw the way Alex's eyes darkened, felt Alex's hand tighten on his. "One morning I had a message. Spender wanted to see me. I went to his office and he didn't waste any time telling me how he felt about this new 'friend' of mine. I was getting too close, spending too much time with him. He told me I would stop seeing Jamie at once. I was to be civil to him in class but speak to him nowhere else. I was to spend every night in my own dorm room, alone. I wanted to cry but I didn't dare. I was afraid to let him see just how much Jamie meant to me. I promised him that I would do what he said, then I went back to my dorm room and sat on the edge of my bed, trying to think of a way around him. I loved Jamie. He was the first thing I ever had to love, the only thing that was mine and mine alone. He loved me and it felt good. I didn't want to give it up. I hated Spender, hated being under his thumb. I wanted to make my own decisions." Alex took another sip of tea, one finger tracing the rim of the mug absently. "I made up my mind that I could outsmart Spender," he said, laughing humorlessly. "I know better now, but then...I was eighteen and I thought I could do anything. I tried to keep a low profile, tried to make sure no one saw us together. At night I'd go into my dorm room and close the door, then climb out the window and go to Jamie's place. In the morning I'd slip out again and go back to my dorm, so anyone watching would see me leave there and go straight to my first class." He paused, teeth worrying at his lower lip. "Of course, I didn't get away with it. This time there was no message. Two of Spender's men picked me up in front of my dorm. I missed my first class that day, and my second and third. They took me to Spender's office. He...he knew everything, down to where we'd ordered pizza the night before. He had photographs of us, taken from the building across the street from Jamie's. Thank God we'd cut the lights out before we went to bed, but the pictures spelled things out pretty clearly. Spender was furious. I'd openly defied him. He had one of the men take me into the other room and hold me down while the other one beat my ass with a leather belt." Alex winced at the memory. "Then they brought me back in. Spender told me if I ever saw Jamie again, he'd make sure it was the last time." Walter sat, his face pale, his heart breaking for Alex. Alex closed his eyes, his lashes wet against his cheeks. "I...saw Jamie that night. I called him and told him to meet me at a bookstore we both liked. He was waiting for me when I got there. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold and he was wearing this blue peacoat he'd bought at the Goodwill because he liked the anchors on the buttons. The owner knew us and let us use the back door. We went out in the alley behind the shop. I was pretty sure no one would see us there. I...I told him I couldn't see him anymore. I tried to play it off, I wanted to spare him any more involvement with me. But as soon as I saw the look on his face I...I lost it. I started bawling. He put his arms around me and I couldn't stop crying. His shoulder was wet when I finally stopped. I told him I had to say goodbye and that I couldn't tell him why." Alex paused and looked down. "I had a lie all ready to go, that my parents wanted me to buckle down, concentrate more on my studies, but I just couldn't look him in the eye and tell him any more stories about my made-up family. I couldn't do it to him. Finally, I ran off and left him standing there in the alley behind the bookstore. I ran all the way back to my dorm and was sick all over the bathroom." "Alex..." Walter said haltingly. "I'm sorry. What Spender did to you..." Alex nodded, grateful for Walter's understanding. "He controlled me and he wanted to make sure I knew it. I sat there alone that night, staring at the wall. The phone rang but I didn't answer it. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I even thought about killing myself. Even death would be better than having to give up the only person who ever loved me." Alex tipped his head back, tears glittering in his eyes. "I guess it was about three in the morning when someone knocked on my door. I didn't bother to get up and answer it. The doorknob jiggled - it was an old lock and easy to spring - and the door opened. It was Jamie. He came in and knelt on the floor beside me and pulled me into his arms. I tried to tell him no, to go away, to forget me, but I couldn't. I couldn't," Alex repeated, shaking his head. "I couldn't make the words come out. I wanted him, Walter. I wanted him so bad. He told me he wouldn't let me go, that no matter what was wrong, I could tell him. He loved me and he knew I loved him and that was enough." Alex smiled a little, his expression bittersweet. "We were just kids. We thought love really could conquer all." He sighed and rested his head back on the cushions. "Jamie wanted me to tell him why I had to stop seeing him. I was desperate enough to try the story on him about my parents, but he didn't buy it. He knew I was holding something back. He wanted to know the truth." Alex took a deep, hitching breath. "One thing you learn early in the Consortium is that you never...ever...tell anyone on the outside who you really are. I learned that before I was old enough to go to school. I tried to talk my way out of it. I lied to him. I told him I didn't love him. I told him I'd met someone else. And he just stood there, staring at me with those clear grey eyes. 'Tell me the truth, Alex', he said. 'Tell me why.' The look on his face...it was like his heart was collapsing in on itself. He was hurting. He just wanted to know why he was hurting, why I was leaving him." Alex toyed with the edge of the throw, plucking at a loose thread absently. "He was waiting for me to tell him, so I...I told him." Alex shook his head, surprised at himself even so many years later. "I sat down on the edge of the bed with tears streaming down my face and I told him all of it, everything. I told him about the Consortium, about Spender, about the belt. I told him I didn't really have a family and that I wasn't like everyone else and I never would be. I told him I didn't blame him for hating me. I told him to turn his back on me and run like hell and never look back." Alex fell silent for a moment, thinking about things he'd tried to forget. "I waited. My heart was thumping so hard I thought for sure he could hear it. I thought he'd curse at me, hit me, walk out and slam the door. But he didn't do any of those things. He just sat down beside me and held me. He told me he loved me. Then he did leave, but only for a little while. He came back a short time later. He was smiling. He was so excited, his eyes were dancing when he told me. He had it all figured out. His Dad had a cabin in the woods up in Maine, forty miles from the nearest town. The place was always stocked and there was a lake for fishing. He wanted me to come away with him. 'Just come with me, Alex. I'll make everything all right'." Walter winced a little at the sound of his own words, spoken by that long ago boy. A boy who had loved Alex and paid a heavy price for it. "I told him he was crazy, that we'd never get away with it," Alex said, remembering how fiercely he'd argued, how utterly sure Jamie had been that they could do it, if only they were together. "I told him they'd find us. He just laughed and kissed me hard, told me to pack my things. I said I couldn't just leave. He asked me why not, what did I have to keep me there? I deserved to have a life. I deserved to have freedom. In the end, I...I guess he just wore me down. No," Alex corrected himself quickly. He couldn't let himself off the hook that easily. "I...I wanted to believe him, Walter. In my heart, I knew it was a mistake. I knew Spender would never let me go. But he was so beautiful and he wanted me, he loved me, and I wanted a chance. I wanted a chance to love him." "So you ran away," Walter said gently. "Yes," Alex answered sadly. "I packed the few things I cared about and we sneaked down the fire escape. His old green Chevy was parked in the alley. He'd already loaded it up with all of his stuff, along with a cooler of beer and a pizza." Alex laughed a little, remembering. "We got in and just drove away. My heart was about to burst in my chest, I was so scared. But the longer we drove, the longer nothing happened. By the time we hit the New York state line, I was starting to relax a little. Maybe we would get away clean after all. Maybe Spender would decide I was just too troublesome to bother with." Alex smiled sadly at his naivete. "I know. I was just deluding myself. But I let myself believe that everything would be all right. I wanted to believe it. We were off on our little adventure and no matter what happened, we were together." Alex's hands clenched in his lap, his eyes shining with unshed tears. It was getting harder for him to get the words out. "We made it to Maine and it was every bit as beautiful as he'd described. We parked the car behind the cabin and carried our things in. He built a fire and we climbed into bed with our clothes on until the place warmed up. Then we took them off." Alex smiled a little. "We had one day. One day of believing love was enough. I was still nervous, I kept looking out the front window at the little dirt road that led to the cabin. But Jamie laughed and put his arms around me and said 'they're not coming, it's going to be all right.' It was too cold to swim in the lake or go fishing, but we watched the sun set over the water. We talked about the future, where we wanted to go, things we wanted to see. He said he was glad he found me and that he would love me forever. I told him I loved him. We went to bed that night and held each other so tight, we had the marks of each other's fingers on our skin the next day." Alex stopped abruptly, ran a shaking hand through his hair. "This is hard, Walter." "I know," Walter answered, rising and going to him. He held Alex close. "I know it hurts. You've been brave long enough, Alex. Tell me. Tell me all of it." He sat down on the sofa again, nodding at Alex encouragingly. Alex nodded, the tears beginning to flow again. "The next morning I woke up smelling smoke. Cigarette smoke." He retched a little, taking a moment to get himself under control before he continued. "Spender was sitting in the chair by the bed, smoking his fucking Morleys, smiling at me." Alex gritted his teeth with anger. "The bastard was smiling at me!" He took a deep breath. "I sat up. I was alone in bed. Jamie was gone. I asked Spender where he was and he said 'come and see for yourself'." It was several minutes before Alex spoke again. "I followed him into...into the kitchen...and he was there. They had him t-tied to a chair." Alex bowed his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. "As soon as he saw me, he started crying. I started crying. We both...we both knew it was the end. I tried to run to him but one of Spender's goons grabbed me and held me. I screamed for them to let him go, that it was all my fault. I begged Spender to punish me and not him. He just tapped his ash on the kitchen floor and looked at me with that smug smile and said, 'Why Alex, I am punishing you.'" Walter sat, the hairs on his arms standing up, listening as Alex told the rest of the story, his voice rough with sorrow. "They told him what they were going to do before they did it. I think he...he fainted for a minute and then they slapped him, brought him around. They wanted to make sure he was awake for...for it..." Alex trailed off, swallowing hard, the taste of bile in the back of his throat. "They told him he was going to die and that it was because of me. They told him I could have saved his life if I'd just obeyed Spender but that I was selfish, that b-because I wanted to get fucked, he was going to..." Alex shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. "They dragged me over to him, shoved my face into his, told us to kiss one last time. Jamie was...he was shaking. He was scared but he wouldn't beg. We kissed, that one last time, and my tears were wet on his face when they pulled me away. I cried and screamed and I fought them with everything I had but I couldn't...couldn't stop them...I tried, I tried so hard..." Alex was crying now, trying to force the words out between sobs. "I would have done anything, anything to...they wouldn't listen...oh God...Walter..." He looked at Walter helplessly, his face crumpling with grief. Walter gathered him into his arms and held him tight, rocked him as he gave in to the crushing anguish he had held in so long. "Walter," Alex choked, sobbing so hard he could hardly breathe, "they burned him...they burned him alive...oh God, Jamie..." "Jesus," Walter breathed, holding Alex closer, rubbing his back as the wrenching cries shook him. "Oh God, Alex." "They showed him the gasoline and the matches and they told him he was...he was my punishment...that he was suffering because of me, because of what I did," Alex cried. "I begged them, I crawled on the floor at Spender's feet and begged him not to do it, I told him I was sorry and I would never disobey him again but he just laughed. I tried so hard but they...they wouldn't stop..." He clung to Walter and bawled, shaking violently as he recalled that horrible morning. "They poured the...the gas on him and he...all he said was 'I love you, Alex'. I screamed his name and then..." "Get it out, Alex," Walter whispered again. "It's all right." "They dragged me out," Alex said brokenly. "They dragged me out and I heard...I heard it when he..." He stopped, resting his cheek on Walter's shoulder, exhausted and drained. "I heard him screaming as they dragged me to the car. I can...I can still hear him screaming." Alex sobbed again, his hand fisting in Walter's shirt. "He was screaming for me," he whispered. "He was screaming my name. Over and over." They were silent for a long while, just sitting there in each other's arms. Finally, Walter raised Alex's face to his, wiped away the last of the tears. "Alex, it's not your fault." Alex looked away, his face ravaged with pain. "I...I shouldn't have...I..." He looked up at Walter, his eyes tormented and dark. "I knew what Spender was capable of. Jamie didn't. I knew what going against the Consortium could cost me but I'm...I'm not the one who paid," he finished miserably. "It's my fault, Walter. My fault." "No," Walter said fiercely, holding Alex's face in his hands. "Alex, you were just a kid. Spender killed Jamie, not you." Alex hung his head, fighting a renewed flow of tears. He leaned into Walter's touch, desperate for it. "I loved him," Alex whispered. "He died because I loved him." "No," Walter said firmly, forcing Alex to look at him. "He died because Spender is a sick, twisted old bastard. Listen to me, Alex. You were a naive kid in the grip of something you couldn't fight against. What happened to Jamie was a horrible thing. So was what happened to you. You've got to stop blaming yourself for what that sadistic old man did!" Alex closed his eyes. "I am so sorry," he whispered. Walter gathered him close again. "It's all right," he whispered. "I understand now. I understand why you were so afraid to come here, why you thought you had to do what you did." He rocked Alex gently for a moment. "Alex," he said quietly. "Look at me." Slowly, Alex raised his head. "They're not going to find us," Walter said softly. "They're not going to hurt me like they hurt Jamie." Alex looked at him, his eyes disbelieving. "Trust me," Walter said, his voice soothing and deep. "Do you trust me, Alex?" Alex looked down, then back up at Walter. "Yes," he whispered. "Do you love me?" Walter asked, cupping Alex's cheek with his hand. Alex put his hand over Walter's, brought it to rest over his heart. "Yes," he said softly. "I love you." Walter kissed him deeply, making it last. He looked into Alex's eyes. Alex gazed up at him, his eyes clear, bottomless green. "I love you, too," Walter whispered. "You don't ever have to be afraid to love me, Alex. You don't ever have to be afraid again." Alex rested his head on Walter's chest, felt those strong arms encircle him again, heard Walter's strong heartbeat in his ear. "We can never go back, you know," he said softly. Walter held him close, kissed him again. "I know." The End Happy Birthday Ursula! Lorelei633@aol.com

Title: Stealing Alex Author: Lorelei Pairing: Skinner/Krycek Rating: NC-17 and how Spoilers: none worth mentioning Disclaimer: Mine! All mine! (insert maniacal cackle) Warnings: For some strange reason, this is not a discipline story. However, there is heavy angst, implied/remembered abuse, erotic spanking, foul language, and those are just the good points. This story is not for the faint of heart. Trust me. Status: New/Standalone Archive: RatB, Basement, Full House, WWOMB, anyone else please ask first. Feedback: Yes, oh God, yes! Lorelei633@aol.com Thanks: To HollyIlex for impeccable British beta. To Gaby and Elizabeth for exhaustive reading, comments and unflagging good cheer. Summary: Sk/K cabinfic for Ursula's birthday Dedication: For Ursula. Happy Birthday! Author's Note: Krycek has two arms. back to top

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