by Xanthe
"Alex... Alex, wake up!"
"Unnnh?" Alex came to with a start, and found himself staring into a pair of
dark brown eyes. The room, full of light, hurt his eyes. He glanced around
blearily. "Where are we?" he asked, confused and disorientated, his heart
beating too fast in his chest. His mind was full of demons, each one
grasping for him with greedy hands, trying to devour him, and he had to stay
ahead of the game, he had to...
Walter frowned. "In the laundry room of our apartment block, Alex. Where did
you think we were?" he teased, then his smile faded as he saw the befuddled
look on his lover's face. Alex stared back at himself, reflected in his
lover's dark eyes. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed, haunted, full of
ghosts - but not ghosts of this world...
"We must have both dozed off," Skinner said gently. "I woke up when you
started lashing out as if you were doing ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Alex...
what was it? Not another one of those dreams?" Walter reached out an anxious
arm and wrapped it around his lover's shoulder, pulling him close. Alex went
with the ease of one who knew the comfort of those big arms, and the sheer
sensory bliss of being held against that solid, reassuring chest. He rested
his head against Walter's cheek, and closed his eyes.
"Yes. It was... not like a dream. More vivid," he murmured.
"Like the others?" Skinner's fingers painted little circles on Krycek's red
sweater, teasing his skin through the fabric, bringing him back to reality.
"Yes... it's so hard to explain. I know they are dreams. I mean,
realistically they have to be. Maybe they're a side effect of the drugs,
but... " Alex shrugged, and felt Walter's fingers caress and cajole him into
continuing. "They're just so real," he finished, shaking his head. "So damn
real. I wouldn't mind if they were nice dreams but usually they aren't.
Usually they... " He stopped, and shuddered.
Walter reached down, lifted his chin, and pressed a gentle, calming kiss to
his lips. "They are just dreams, Alex," he said firmly.
"Supposing they aren't?" Alex drew away, his overactive mind buzzing with an
idea that had preoccupied him ever since the dreams had first started
haunting his sleep. "Suppose that... when we sleep we cross over into
another reality - and when we sleep there, we live this life," he said.
Walter smiled. "That sounds like a fantastic idea. That's why you're the
novelist and I'm not," he grinned.
"No, but... truly. I mean it," Alex whispered. "Maybe that's what's
happening. It was just so real."
"You're just tired. You had a late night. I knew I should have insisted you
came to bed."
"I wanted to finish the chapter." Alex shrugged. "You know how I get when
the ideas come. I couldn't have slept even if I tried. I had to write it
out."
"Hmm." Skinner made his 'stern' face, and Alex gave a rueful chuckle. "Yes,
I know what you get like," Skinner sighed, stretching his long legs out in
front of him, narrowly avoiding the laundry basket with his big, booted
feet. "And I've learned to my cost from hundreds of kicked shins courtesy of
your restless legs that imprisoning you in bed and expecting you to sleep is
a lost cause. Even so... I wish you'd pace yourself better, Alex. You need
your rest." His dark eyes were sad, his comment pointed.
Alex smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief that this was his
reality, not that other place, where nobody cared whether he lived or died.
"I don't deserve you," he murmured.
"Whoa! Where did that come from?" Skinner wrapped two big arms around his
lover and gave him a very noisy, slurpy kiss on the forehead. "You deserve
nothing but the best, Alex!"
"Are you saying you're the best?" Alex teased mischievously.
"Well, I haven't had any complaints," Skinner grinned. He glanced around the
laundry room to make sure they were alone, then he placed his hand on Alex's
crotch and massaged the swelling bulge that he found there. Alex opened his
mouth and allowed his tongue to wet his lips lasciviously, and Skinner
laughed and pulled him close again. "You still haven't told me about the
dream," he reminded his lover gently.
Alex sighed. He should have known that Walter wouldn't let him get away with
that evasion. His lover was like a dog with a bone once a subject was begun
- especially when that subject was in any way related to Alex's health or
well-being.
"It was the same as before." He shrugged.
"The one with the aliens?" Skinner pressed.
"Yeah. Don't laugh." Alex prodded him in the ribs.
"I won't. I promise," Skinner's dark eyes were amused.
"All right. You were in this one." Alex bit on his lip, and glanced at his
lover.
Skinner squeezed him encouragingly. "Go on. What was I doing? Being
abducted by those evil aliens? Enduring horribly intrusive anal *probes*?"
He said that last word with a hint of lustful intent, and Alex would have
laughed out loud if it hadn't been for...
"No. I was killing you," he said.
Walter looked taken aback. "Oh," he said. "Hmm, that could be worryingly
Freudian. What was your murder weapon of choice? Gun? Knife? Candlestick?
Lead piping?" He grinned, trying to make a joke of it.
"No. I... I poisoned you," Alex told him. "I infected you with some kind of
parasite. It gave me control over you. They were in your bloodstream... all
I had to do was press a button and they were activated, making you very
ill... " He stopped, the words choking in the back of his throat. Damn but
it had felt so real.
"Oh, Alex. Alex, Alex, Alex." Skinner reached out and pulled him close and
he went, unresisting. "This is just your own fears coming out as nightmares,
Alex, but there's no need. I keep testing negative. We practice safe sex.
I'm fine. You haven't given me HIV. What you have given me is the best two
years of my life. Please stop worrying about this."
"It's hard. If anything happened to you... if I caused anything to happen to
you..." Alex glanced up at his lover, the worry radiating from every tense
muscle in his body. His life had been a lonely one before he met Skinner -
he still couldn't believe he had been lucky enough to become involved with
this amazing man. He only had to look at his strong, handsome lover to get a
hard on, and although he often teased Skinner about his status as a bona
fide 'national treasure', he still found it mind-boggling that this man, the
Walter Skinner, would be remotely interested in him, Alex Krycek, struggling
author.
"Ssh... the only thing you've caused me is a ton of washing as the result of
a far too vigorous sex life," Skinner grinned, glancing ruefully at the
baskets around their feet. "And that's with all the condoms we get through!"
Alex smiled, and leaned his head on Skinner's shoulder again, watching as
the dryer went around, mesmerizing him. It was warm in here. A warm Saturday
morning spent doing the laundry with his lover. It felt good. It felt
normal. Somehow he had a feeling that 'normal' wasn't something his alter
ego, that other Alex, the one driven by fear, living in the dark, running
with the rats, ever experienced.
"Maybe there are different realities, different universes," he murmured to
his lover as he closed his eyes again. "Maybe we can catch glimpses of them
when we sleep. Maybe that's what these dreams are. Maybe in another reality
I'm not a novelist and you're not one of the nation's favorite sporting
heroes. Maybe... maybe I *am* that assassin - and you *are* something high
up in the FBI."
"Yeuch! Me in a suit! I don't think so!" Walter growled. "And I'm far too
old to still have that 'sporting hero' tag attached. That was years ago!"
Alex grinned, cozying his face against his lover's denim-clad shoulder
again, and then a thought occurred to him. Supposing he was glimpsing an
alternate reality? Supposing that Alex was also glimpsing his reality and
wanted it for himself? Supposing he found a way to cross over into this
universe, and take from Alex what was his, to snuggle up to his Walter,
while he was consigned to that other universe, where he would have to lie,
and kill, and where Walter was his bitter enemy. Supposing...
"Alex. Stop it." Walter's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Stop what?" Alex glanced at his lover.
"All that buzzing inside your head. I can hear it from here."
"We're telepathic now are we?" Alex teased. "Now that would make a good
plotline..."
"Stop it!" Walter groaned. "Just switch off whatever's going through your
inventive little mind, and get some rest."
"Or?" Alex raised a provocative eyebrow.
"Or else," Walter replied firmly not rising to the bait.
Alex subsided against his lover again wishing it were that easy to switch
off his thoughts. Sometimes he envied Walter his calm demeanor, and ability
to take whatever the world threw at him without blinking an eye. Walter was
probably right. They probably were just dreams induced by the drugs he took
for his condition - that combined with the fact that he was on a writing
high right now, and his imagination was working overtime as a result. He was
tired, and he shouldn't have stayed up half the night writing. It was no
wonder the dreams had seemed so vivid. He was run down.
"But supposing that other Alex found a way to take my place," he said,
without realizing he'd spoken out loud. Walter gave a deep, heartfelt sigh.
"No, listen...supposing he was deeply envious of what we have, and found a
way to take my place."
"He couldn't. I'd know," Skinner replied.
"How?" Alex pressed.
"Well, does this other Alex, the assassin Alex, have a habit of asking weird
and bizarre questions every five seconds?" Skinner raised an eyebrow. Alex
opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again, with a wry smile. "I
rest my case," Skinner said, crossing his arms smugly.
Alex conceded the point. He still wished he could get the image of that
other Alex out of his mind though. It made him sad in the way the leftover
emotions from dreams sometimes do when they're particularly vivid. He felt a
need to put something right, to say something that couldn't be said in that
other world.
"Walter...?"
"Alex." Walter's voice was both amused and exasperated.
"Um, this is going to sound crazy...and sappy...but... in my dreams... uh,
well, I loved you in that universe as well. You hated me and I loved you -
but I could never tell you. I had to keep on hurting you and I hated doing
it. I wanted you to know that I hated it. I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted," Skinner replied, his tone full of indulgent smiles. "But
it isn't real, Alex." Walter's voice was low, rumbling, and calm. He was a
man securely grounded in the real world for which Alex was profoundly
grateful. If he ever got too lost in his own imagination Walter would always
be there to pull him back. He felt Walter's head nod against his own, and
knew that his lover was dozing off once more.
"Walter?" He muttered again.
"Hmm?" His lover replied.
"I'm glad we're just regular folk who talk, and make love, and... and do the
laundry!" He glanced up to find that his lover's dark eyes were open, and
fixed affectionately on him, bemused and loving at the same time. "There's
something wild, exotic, and exhilarating about the other Alex's life," he
mused. "As a novelist I'm always living in fantasy worlds... always creating
what isn't real, making up for what's boring about my own existence, and I
suppose there's a part of me that always wants to live in the worlds I
create, to have that kind of fantasy life. But you know... I wouldn't want
his life, however exciting it is. I want this one. I want normality, our
normality... and you know... I think he probably wants it too. He'd give
anything to have what we have here. It seems so mundane, but to just sit and
do the laundry together... he wants that. He wants you." Alex shivered,
almost scared to go back to sleep. It might not have been real but it had
felt real.
"Well he can't have me. I'm already taken," Walter said softly, his lips
nuzzling the side of Alex's face, warm, and tender. "And very happily taken
I might add."
Alex grinned. Walter was surely right. It made sense. His HIV status did
prey on his mind, and despite all the precautions they took he was
constantly worried that Walter might contract the virus too. It was hardly
surprising that he had dreamed up a scenario where he had infected his
lover's blood with a deadly poison. It was so classically Freudian that it
was almost amusing.
Alex settled down against his lover again, relishing the feel of Walter's
shirt against his face, and Walter's strong, hard, muscled body nestled
against his own. He wouldn't trade his life and his Walter for anything in
this universe - or any other universe that might exist. No, Walter was
*definitely* right. That other Alex Krycek and that other Walter Skinner
were merely figments of his imagination, they didn't really exist...
The End
t was dark. He woke with a scream on his lips, and a vision of a face in
his mind - a face that haunted him, and tore at his conscience. Dark,
familiar eyes that should have been full of love, were instead consumed by
hurt and hate, and the full force of that loathing was turned on him. He
opened his mouth to scream, only to find that the words had been torn from
him. His wordless scream turned into frenzied activity. He fought to be
free, to return to where he belonged, his arms and legs scissoring
desperately...
