Sound and Fury
Fandom:The X-Files
Category/Rated: NC17 for Male/Male sexual interaction. I like it, but you might not, so go away if you feel that you might be offended.
Year/Length: 2000/~7800 words
Pairing: Mulder/Krycek
Disclaimer: The characters in this story all belong to 1013. My pain is great. I am planning to break them out, but until that time I will merely pretend that I know them.
Summary: Alex is tired, and he's looking for a way out.
Author's Notes: Response to Ned and Leny's RatB challenge for February 2000.
Beta: Thank you to Ayanna, for great beta, and Bonita for telling me all the stuff I had to include.
Now the crunch has finally come, and I'm almost ready to give in and let it finish me.
I've been through so much, so fucking much. How in God's name did I ever bear it without giving in at last, and eating that bullet, the one I have in my pocket?
The bullet on which I wrote my name.
I'm tired. It's not easy saving the world for humanity when you're universally reviled. Somebody had to be the one to give up everything to save the friggin' universe, and there's just nobody else who has what it takes to get things done. Flash Gordon's busy right now. Who else could there be?
Scully? She doesn't believe. She can't even accept things that are staring her in the face.
Mulder? Don't even think it. He's too self-indulgent. This needs someone who could give up their 'self' for a higher cause, not someone who sees himself as a focus for everything. The ego has always gotten in the way for Fox Mulder.
Jeff? I had high hopes of Jeff. Sure, he was green, but he had the work ethic. He was ready to put his own desires behind him when the push came. When he disappeared, I looked for him over a long period of time. I hope he comes through it all okay. I liked him even though he was a schmuck.
None of the old men could have done it. Greed, malice and advancing years put a stop to any of them who might have wanted to be a hero.
You can do math, I know you can. So that left precisely… me.
Number one in a field of one.
Winner of tonight's star prize…
Oblivion.
I'm tired. I think I told you before. So tired now, but it will all be over soon. Everything comes to dust in the end, you know. Shakespeare had it right. "Our little lives are rounded by a sleep."
After tonight, I know that I will sleep at last.
I'll be carrying enough explosives on me to take out the hive and all of its occupants when I go on board to give them what they think is a blueprint for the human/alien hybrid that they seek. They will welcome me.
For a little while.
And then the world will be free again, the aliens dead, and I alas, forgotten, unmourned and unloved.
I spent today doing things I've loved over the years. I ate sushi at breakfast time, and drank champagne with orange juice. I listened to music that moves me… The Adagio by Albinoni, full of silences and piercing sweet sadness, REM wailing to the one they love, as if anyone could ever refuse them anything. Have you ever listened to "Everybody Hurts"? Well, sorry, but it's time to throw my hand. Then there's Glenn Miller… Yeah, Glenn, I guess you went this way before me, but you were a whole lot more tuneful than I am.
I rented skates and tried to recapture my youthful agility. One armed skating isn't so easy. That was a failure I won't repeat.
In a way it was good to get the failure over and done with early in the day. There's no room for failure from here on in.
There's just one more thing that I need to do. I need to tell that bastard Mulder just how badly he misjudged me, then all ties will be broken, and I'll be free to go.
I've spent more of my life waiting for Mulder than is good for me. Why it matters to me what he thinks still astounds me. Somehow he got under my skin early on in our relationship and I've never been able to shake him loose until now.
For a change, I knock on his door rather than picking his lock and letting myself in. When he answers the door he's got the look of someone who's just got out of bed. His hair pokes out every-which-way and he's rumpled. Looks as if I caught him just at the right time.
Saying nothing, his only visible emotion is a tightening of his jaw. We stand and look at each other for a frozen moment outside of time. There's so much we have to say to each other, and this is it. The beginning and the end. There will be no more subterfuge. We owe each other that much.
My expression warns him that I'm way past time for any mindfucks. Standing aside, he permits me to enter. As I walk past him, I growl 'thanks' and he nods before he closes the door.
I stand inside the door, trying to put into words the things that I've been thinking. You've misunderstood me, Mulder. I was never evil, merely a pawn that couldn't escape the tossing of fate. You and I were never able to climb over the barriers caused by circumstance, but it's time to say goodbye to hate. I don't want to die with your hatred burning my soul.
I try to say something, and I'm astonished when he gives me a long, hard look. It's not the kind of look that usually precedes a punch to the gut, but I step back anyway, and he pats my cheek, which makes me jump, and then beckons me forward, into his living room.
Once inside, I look around me in trepidation, but there are no changes. This is the Mulder I have always known. I sit on his couch, and am surprised when he disappears into the kitchen, returning with a tumbler containing scotch. I sip it. It's good stuff. He takes his seat beside me, and I notice that he also has a drink.
Sipping the liquor kills another minute, and I'm surprised at how wonderful it feels to be drinking good whisky in the company of my dearest enemy.
At last he puts down his glass and turns to me.
"What is it this time, Krycek?" His face is carefully blank, as is mine, and I shiver. Maybe all the games aren't yet played out.
"I just came to say goodbye, and to tell you a story, Mulder." I'm surprised at the wash of something unreadable that flits across his face.
"Goodbye? How come?" And is that regret I hear in his voice? Honest regret that threatens - what it threatens I don't yet know. All of a sudden I'm poised ready for flight out of here, and I'm afraid. Coming here was a bad idea.
"It ends tonight, Mulder. I've got the whole thing covered. When I blow the ship there may be a couple of them left, but without the thinkers, and the technology that brought them, they won't be a threat. There's no way that they can win."
Mulder merely looks, his stare a weapon and his furrowed brow evidence of his careful examination of my statement.
"What are you going to do, Krycek?" The words fall softly, and the entire world seems muted as it waits for my reply.
"I'm going to go into their ship for a meeting of their council, and I'll be wearing enough explosives that when I go boom, so will they - all of them." I smile at his face. He looks as though someone just inserted a frozen carrot up his ass.
"Don't worry. Nobody else will get hurt. It will be fine." There's a frown on his forehead now, a different kind of frown, and I sigh. He's going to argue.
"Why you, Krycek?" His voice is still mild and there's an undercurrent there that I don't quite recognize, but I have no time left for second-guessing. I just want to say my piece and go. It's hard for me though. I hear the affront in my voice even as I speak.
"Who else is there, Mulder? Who else has there ever been who would give up the things that I have? You? I don't think so. There is only me, and I'm tired… so tired. Tonight it ends. Tonight I sleep."
He starts to speak, and I know what he's going to ask. He'll want to know what I think it is that I gave up. I stare at him, my chin up, as defiant and challenging as I have ever been. Then he closes his mouth abruptly, and I see that he knows - knows after all.
I'm not prepared for what comes next. I'm not ready for him to grab me roughly by my shoulders and pull me to him as his mouth finds mine. I'm not ready. How could I be?
His lips are cool, a little moist, and they taste of the malt whisky he's been sipping. My lips are astonished. They part in a gasp, and this is my second mistake. His tongue flickers in to taste my despair, touching soft, touching hard, and finally tempting mine to join it. I finally know what it feels like to be consumed as at last I sigh and melt into him, eyes closing as I feel fierce pleasure, and an even fiercer pain.
He won't stop. I push a little to try and make him fall back, but he won't stop, and I admit to myself that I don't want him to. I want his lips on mine, crushing the tender flesh and causing my heart to thump hard against my ribs.
His hand finds its way to the back of my head, centering me as his fingers stroke firm against my hair. That killer mouth is sliding against mine, sucking on my tongue as his invades me, battles and then finally conquers me.
I sneak my arm around him, a little surprised at my own temerity, and then I'm holding him as tight as I can, and I'm straining, straining against him as I burrow deeper.
He pulls back just a little and surveys me through half closed and passion clouded grey eyes. I look up at him, stricken, cradled in his arms as I am, and my heard pounds once, a savage reminder of who and where I am. I wince, because how can I possibly give this up now?
Let me run screaming out of here. Let me leave. I must. I can't possibly go through with my plan once I've known him as mine. Let me go.
Only now it's too late and I'm gone as warmth floods my belly and desire rushes in to fill the hollow in the back of my frozen, empty soul.
I want him. I want… but it's all for nothing, and panting, I scream "No!"
He's surprised, I can tell, and half way releases me, his face a series of astonished circles as he looks at me. I struggle, and manage to release myself from his clutch. I'm about to take flight when he puts out his arms to restrain me.
"Alex," Is all he says, and it's enough. My eyes widen, and I freeze. I freeze like a bunny faced by a snake. The sweet fury of his gaze mesmerizes me. Shivers run the length of my spine. Heat floods my face, pools liquid in my groin and swells my tongue until it clings, dry, to the roof of my mouth. I'm dumb as I search his face.
I can't speak. I can only whimper, a tiny sound that causes him to smile. Again I gasp as that smile speaks to my groin and I feel the steady swell and flutter of my genitals as they fill to bursting.
I wrestle with myself, trying to swallow and groaning again. I count myself lucky when I finally succeed.
"Alex," He says again, like a mantra, and puts out a hand to stroke my cheek. Then I know that he's won, forever and ever.
It was always all about him. Trapped into admitting it at last, I stumble back into his embrace and allow him to kiss me while I hold him, stretching myself tight against him to permit him access to my craving flesh.
"Alex, " for the third time, in tones of wonder as he runs lips and tongue greedily over my throat, and three times is a charm. It releases me from silence, allowing me at last to find my voice and raise it in a chant of 'God, oh, God!' I have no idea to whom I might be praying, but surely my prayer is answered as his hot hands slide knowingly beneath my jacket and the T-shirt that I wear.
His hands trace over my skin, drawing a bloom of shivery warmth as they pass. Again his mouth claims mine. From the vertical we slide, achieving the horizontal effortlessly as his body rolls to cover mine. His hands discard first my jacket and then my T-shirt, baring my torso to his clever fingers.
I'm holding on, breath heavy as molasses and the sheer perfume of him heady in my nose as he nips, and licks, and nibbles on me. I'm hard, so hard that the motion as he writhes against me, grinding his answering hardness, is almost enough to take me over. I grip his buttock and moan, my voice taking form at last as I growl out that I want him - have always wanted him.
He laughs at that, his own voice a little harsh, and I can tell that he wants me the way that I want him, the way I've wanted him since first I laid eyes on him. He's insistent, hands and mouth not to be denied as he traces lines of fire on my skin.
Fumbling fingers loosen the waistband of my jeans, and he leans down to suck at the tender skin of my inner arm before training his tongue across my belly until his teeth reach my zipper, and he pulls.
Oh, God, he pulls the zipper down and my cock springs out from the confines of the firm knit jersey of the briefs I wear.
His lips mumble the length of it, and he's pressing down my pants, laying me naked to him while I groan and tell him the thing I imagined would die a secret with me.
"I love you, Fox."
He looks up at me then and grins wildly. I hear a harsh whisper from him, his voice thick and trembling as he grits it out.
"I love you too, you rat bastard," and he parts full lips, laps delicately at the under side of my cock, stroking in heady fire with every lick of his talented tongue, before running it around the crown. Just when I believe that I can accept this as my due and still remain in control, he goes down on me. He sucks me into a silk lined inferno that draws me, arching and writhing until spikes of jagged pleasure pull through my groin to burst from my balls and surge along my cock as I feel myself give it up to him.
I believe I cry out his name as I empty myself into his mouth. I know that my hand has fast hold in his hair, and I'm shaking, crying tears that won't stop when I will them to. Slipping up to hold me tightly, he presses his mouth to mine again, fierce as ever, while my eyes leak forgotten moisture and my mouth devours him greedily, tasting him, tasting me, and hungry, oh, hungry.
My hand delves between us and at last I hold his penis, tidily circumcised and pulsing as I run my thumb over the eyelet in the head that leaks moisture to my touch. I can feel how close he is, see it in his slack, blissed-out face, and I want to see him lose control for me right here, right now.
I rub and squeeze deftly, and he rewards me with the way his eyes roll up and the sudden spasming of his body. As I feel the warm fluid spill from him I stroke it out, spurt for spurt, and when at last he's done, I bring my fingers, sticky with his ejaculate, up to my mouth. I want to taste him. I suck each finger clean as I watch him, and then I lay my head on his chest, and know nothing more for some immeasurable, wonderful time.
I awaken at last to the feel of his arms around me, and his hands roaming the length of my body. Starting up, I ask the time.
It's time. I have to go now. God pity me. It was going to be so easy. I try to struggle up but he presses me back to him and tells me 'no.'
"Fox, I have to. It's not just about you and I. It's the world at stake." I think I'm making sense, though at this point, who the hell knows?
"Alex, I can't let you go. Not now. Will you promise me one thing?" I nod, mystified at his soft voice and his apparent concern.
"I'm going to call the Gunmen to see what they might suggest. If they have nothing I'll let you go, but I'm coming with you."
At that I rear up, but he's ready for me and his lips take over my senses, honey, and velvet, and bright molten gold trailing over nerve endings that I believed were mine and I could control.
"There's no point in me living if you die. I want to go with you, you, glory hound!" His lips find my neck, nipping to raise a bruise and make me yelp with the sudden sting.
I give in. What else can I do? He rises then and wanders over to the phone. He's tall, slim and straight in the late afternoon sun, more beautiful naked than he ever has been in his ritziest designer gear. My cock rears up to take a look and suddenly I'm shivering again.
His conversation with the Gunmen is somewhat strange, consisting of little else but grunts, but he announces that they are on their way and then comes back to grab his clothes.
I reach for him, pulling him in to stand between my knees, while I bury my face in his belly, inhaling the warm smell of him, kissing the skin and willing that I might sink into him and never find myself again.
It doesn't work, and finally we dress ourselves, achieving decency just in time for the strange brood that calls itself the Lone Gunmen to appear.
Once they enter, I study them with extreme fascination. I've known of them, of course I have, but this is the first time I've been exposed to them for real, and I wonder if Mulder's intent is merely to give me a good chuckle before sending me out to die.
They ooze furtive intelligence and paranoia. They give each other strange and meaningful glances, darting beady-eyed looks at Mulder and especially at me. The lanky one with the limp, blond hair finally addresses Mulder in a fashion only slightly removed from sensible.
"Dude, that's Krycek," he says, wonderingly. At that, the small troll they have with them gasps and darts behind the anal-retentive type in the three-piece suit and tie.
"Yeah, it's Krycek. Don't worry about him. He's on our side." Mulder grins at me, somewhat apologetic, but obviously loving this foolishness. The troll peers at me malevolently from behind the suit, and I resist the urge to say 'Boo!' and see if he climbs the curtains.
"What are you doing? How do you think that these dweebs can possibly help?" I'm surprised into a burst of laughter as I look around me helplessly. Mulder gestures for me to sit back down and then the geeky threesome follow suit. As Mulder begins to tell them my story the three of them lean forward. The conference suddenly takes a turn for the surreal.
The discussion is difficult to follow, but fascinating to watch. Again and again the troll suggests things, the hippie begins to elaborate, and the suit shoots them down in flames. We're getting nowhere, when suddenly the blond, Langly, pounds on the table.
"Subsonics." Eyes snap to his face as though on strings.
"Not tested. Besides, it would kill him too." Again, the suit proffers a reason why it just won't work.
"Hold on a minute." This comes from Rumplestiltskin, who leans forward, forgetting in his enthusiasm to see me as a threat. "What was it that Scully was going to do to that guy you had with you in the car that time?" He turns to Mulder as he speaks, and Mulder's brow furrows as he thinks, lips pursing. All I can see are those lips. Damn! I can still feel them on my skin.
I should never have come here. It was a bad idea. All it did was show me what I'm going to lose, and all of a sudden life feels very precious to me. I rise. Looking around for the exit, and as I do, Langly speaks again.
"She was going to pierce his ear drum. We'd need to do that to you." He was speaking to me. All eyes turned my way.
"I'll call Scully." He gives me no time to back away. His voice chimes into the babble and nobody bothers to explain what they are talking about.
I check my watch. 5 hours are all that's left before this is done. I look at Mulder, heartsick. He catches my eye and nods, and then rises from his seat to come over to me. He sits beside me and takes my hand as he uses his thumb to dial Scully's number on his cell phone.
All eyes are focused on our joined hands. I laugh nervously at that, but there's no time to dither any more because he's on the phone and we're all listening to his conversation with Scully. Only I can feel the teasing stroke of his thumb against my palm.
His discussion with Scully is complex Mulderspeak. He's grinning like a lunatic when he hangs up the phone and stands up, pulling me up by our still joined hands.
"There's a clinic we have to go to. There are these tube things - grommets, she called them - that can be put into our ears. It won't take long. An hour maybe?" He looks at me, the question big in his eyes though his lips don't say it. I nod. An hour will still give me enough time.
He turns to the Gunmen, who are eagerly swapping high-tech gobbledygook.
"Can you guys get back here for seven?" Frohike seems to be the spokesman. He surveys the other two, a fanatics gleam in his eye.
"You betcha a, G-man." They leave as rapidly as they arrived, and that leaves the two of us, standing alone, joined by our hands.
Not for long. He steps in, his arms go around me, and then we're kissing desperately, hands moving everywhere as we press together. My heart is thumping, and I'm deep in a dark world, connected to him through years of savagery and just a little tenderness that's distilling even now into a feeling I have always known but could never put a name to until now.
It ends. It has to, but not before I know that I can never leave him. There's moisture pricking the backs of my eyelids as our lips part.
"Come on, Scully's waiting." Taking my hand again, he leads me back into a world that has suddenly become bright.
The clinic is a mere five-minute's drive away. We're still holding hands as we reach the heavy, plate-glass door and wait. He shows no sign of wanting this to end.
Scully bursts around the corner just a minute or two later, and does a perfect double-take as she sees the two of us. At her scornful glance he lets go my hand, but only in favor of draping his arm around my shoulders. He begins drawing small circles on the flesh of my upper arm as I fight a desperate urge to lay my head down onto his shoulder.
"Mulder, what is all this?" She's at a loss, and how can I blame her? He starts to explain What's needed as we enter the clinic, and I'm mute, merely savoring the lazy tracery of his fingers on my arm.
Even as he talks, she's setting things up, and as he reaches the end of his recital she's ready. She's a clever woman. I've always thought of her as an object - a pawn - because things were easier that way, but she's more, much more than that.
"What I'm going to do is insert drainage tubes into your ears. It's a simple operation that's usually performed on children. The thing is that it's normally carried out under a general anaesthetic, which Mulder tells me you don't want. You're going to have to keep very still, and it will probably hurt." She turns away from me and busies herself laying out instruments, ostentatiously avoiding looking at Mulder, who still has his arm around me.
I open my mouth to speak, but he's there ahead of me.
"Me first, Scully, you need to do me first." He rises from the bench where we've been sitting, and leaves go of me for the first time in over an hour. I feel bereft for no good reason.
Scully beckons, and we follow her into another room where there is a chair that has a head restraint attached. Mulder takes a seat, a stoic expression on his face, and Scully goes to work immobilizing him before moving a complicated piece of machinery into place over his head.
I wait, and sweat.
His expression doesn't change, and in a short space of time she pulls the contraption away once more and he steps free.
As I step forward, unsure of what's going to happen, I reflect that whatever it is that she's going to do to me, it won't be as final as the action I had planned on my own. I take my seat.
She looks at me, and for a moment, the mask slips and I see how much she despises me. I stare blandly back at her and wait. She doesn't say a thing. She merely moves the machinery into place.
I feel the cool wetness as she sprays the inside of my ear with something, and then pressure. There's a hissing, crackling sound, and then she moves around to the other ear. A few more minutes and she steps back, pulling the equipment away.
"I didn't feel it." She's tidying up now, and glances back at me over her shoulder, her lip curled in cool contempt.
"I used a local anaesthetic." Her voice is still carefully neutral. I smile at her, lowering my lashes as I do so, and for a second her façade crumbles.
"Mulder?" She seems at a loss, and how can I blame her?
"It's okay, Scully. I don't have much time, but I promise you'll know what's happening as soon as it's safe." She finishes putting away the instruments and flicks the switch on a small autoclave before putting on her coat and turning back to us.
"Let's go." She walks past me to the door and holds it open. I follow, and Mulder falls in behind me, his hands moving to touch me as I pass. He takes my hand again, somewhat pointedly, and Scully pauses to lock the door as we leave. "Mulder, what's all this - this… ?" She indicates our intertwined fingers, and he gives me a quick look as if to apologize for her. I choke back a snicker.
"Alex was going to die tonight, Scully, to protect us from the aliens. We owe him a chance at life. That's what all this is about." He unlocked the door to his car, and I move around to ride shotgun. To my surprise, Scully climbs into the back of the car.
"I don't care what you're doing. I'm going with you." Mulder sighs and starts the car.
Back at his apartment again there's no sign yet of the Gunmen. He fumes quietly until I point out that we've actually been gone for less than an hour.
Fifteen minutes pass, and he starts to pace back and forth, swearing. I'm checking my watch too, and beginning to gather my courage prior to returning to my original plan, when the buzzer sounds loud into preternatural stillness and we all jump. Swiftly, he moves to admit them and moments later the three stooges enter, stage left, amid an aura of smug self-satisfaction.
"Dude, we got something good." It's Langly, carrying a large, bulky something that has wires and switches all over it, and looks like nothing I've ever seen before. As Langly addresses Mulder, Frohike, who has sidled up to Scully, and is busily mooning at her, collects his wits and approaches me, holding his hand out to offer me something.
The small metal box he hands me is around three inches square, and has fine metal mesh sides. I turn it over in my hand, and he repeats the gesture, offering a second thingy to Mulder.
Byers is the last to enter. He steps up to Mulder.
"We have to wire you." Mulder frowns, and looks over at me, perplexed. Langly moves in then and displays the gadget he brought in with him.
"See, Mulder, this here's the subsonic projector. It's way too big for you to take in with you, so what we've done is to make a couple of receiver-transmitters. You guys can carry them in. We'll stay out of sight with our projector and when we hear the signal from you, we'll generate enough subsonics to have the bastards explode." Mulder looks at me, and eyebrow raised.
"Will it work?" I'm worried. These guys are comedians, that's for sure, but I wouldn't ever have pegged them for saviors of the earth.
"They know what they're doing, trust me." I can see that he actually believes in them.
"It isn't me that's going to be suffering if they fail, Mulder." My voice is waspish, but I can't help myself. Byers looks at me a little warily, and then quietly offers me the wire.
"We tested it out. It will definitely kill them. The only thing is, we're not sure whether or not it will kill you two as well. It's kind of an experimental procedure." I look at Mulder, and his gaze finds and holds my own. It's all I see for the next few seconds, slate grey eyes that look at me as though I'm precious. He smiles, more with his eyes than with his mouth, and begins to take off his shirt so he can be wired up. I follow his lead, baring my infirmity to them all, uncaring. This might be my last couple of hours. I have no time to waste hiding from the truth.
"I have to do this, Fox. You don't. Live and be well for me." He steps to me through shocked silence. Hazily my mind registers that we've caused a lot of that these last few hours. He takes hold of my arms in a vise-like grip as his face rejects all that I've said. We look at each other for a stone cold second while those eyes of his smolder.
"I go with you. Understand?" I nod gravely and he smiles at me then, a sunburst smile that has me answering in kind.
Scully clears her throat.
He lets me go, but stays beside me, and his arm sneaks around me again.
"In a way your presence will make it easier for me to penetrate the ship. You'll need to be there as my prisoner though, Fox. You're going to have to trust me."
It takes Scully to break the silence, asking the question that's hanging in the air, ready for plucking.
"Why will Mulder's presence make things easier, Krycek?"
I look at her, resisting the urge to grandstand.
"Because he's the hybrid that they've been looking for. They'll believe me if I deliver him to them." I steal a sideways glance at Mulder, but he's not half as shocked as I thought he'd be. He's worked it out already. Good boy!
"Mulder, do you trust him?" I roll my eyes. Scully, you idiot, I've been trying to make him stay behind, and he's the one who insists on joining me. What's not to trust? What are you thinking?
"Scully, drop it. We don't have time." That's kind. She glares at him anyway. He doesn't seem to care. All his attention is focused now on the Gunmen and their boxes. Scully subsides.
"Just carry it in your pocket. When you hear the order we'll turn the switch and flood the area. They ought to begin exploding round about then." I have to admit that it sound plausible. Who knows, it just might work. I see no reason to share my back-up plan with them. The device I will carry was small enough to take out the ship, but if they are too close to it when the shit hits the fan, who knows what will happen? I don't want to think about it.
They turn to me then and I realize that they are waiting for me to tell them where the target is. I sigh.
"There's a map in my car." Fox nods, and I leave, wondering why I don't just get in my car and go. I make my way down and out… there's an evocative phrase… Down to my car. I find my briefcase, and then slip the bomb into my pocket. It's insurance that's what it is.
I'm just turning, briefcase in my hand, to re-enter the building when he's there, shadowed by the encroaching dusk, to push me back against my car and claim my mouth as his all over again.
"I knew I could trust you. God, Alex, I've had my head up my ass for so long."
I'm panting.
"This is a discussion we can't afford to have until tomorrow, Fox. I'm still the person I've always been. Having sex with me doesn't change that. Your father's still dead."
He stiffens at that, and part of me regrets, while another part of me nods sagely. I knew it wouldn't last. I turn, or try to, and then he pulls me back to him, and this kiss is gentle, soft as feathers on my lips as he turns my knees to jelly all over again.
"I'm not, and you're not, and we'll have that talk. Tomorrow, we'll have that talk."
The drive is - interesting. Scully drives while he and I sit in the back and make out like teenagers. By the time we draw near to the site I'm desperately hoping that the plan succeeds. I don't want to die with a hard-on like this.
Once parked, we climb out of the car and await the arrival of the other vehicle. As the VW Microbus draws up, the trio of techno-crazies pile out and throw open the hood. I saunter over to see what they're doing. He's not far behind me. As I fetch up next to the car he moves in to press up close behind me, nuzzling my neck. I lean back against him, feeling him hard against me as I wriggle.
Two of us, horny as schoolkids, and will we die, or will we live to get our rocks off? Fascinated, I witness Gunmen rage against the machine. When finally Byers flicks the switches and a light glows on the little device that I have in my hand I actually feel a surge of excitement, just as if I thought it could be real. When we check, there's a light on Fox's as well.
We're ready, I guess.
Langly is monitoring the surveillance equipment we have taped to our skin, and he pronounces it operational with an air of pride. We've agreed already that when the time comes, the signal will be when I shout "Langly, do it!"
Then, we wait for the final 20 minutes before I'm due to go to my meeting.
The time comes around too quickly. I get in behind the wheel of Fox's car and wait for him to join me. Then we take off.
It's only a mile or so before I pull off the road and park. He's nervous, I can see, tapping out rhythms on the dash and casting furtive glances at me. My belly turns lazily over at the thought of him lying naked against me. I grit my teeth to stay focused.
Not now! Behave!
Then we're out of the car and I'm leading him to the site.
They're in human form at first and I can see that Mulder's presence confuses them. Nevertheless, they lead me forward through the tunnels and past the storage facilities where their young are incubating, until we're deep inside the hive. They leave us in a small, plastic walled chamber. I risk a brief test of the wire.
"Langly, can you hear me?"
Astonishingly, his voice comes back to me as clearly as if he were next to me.
"Loud and clear, dude. Ready to rumble"
"Wait. I'm not sure that they're all within range yet."
"I'm waiting, dude. Waiting, and anticipating."
Fox can hear us. He's nodding along as we talk. We're quiet then because the door opens and one of the seven comes in. I've seen him before. His human guise is tall and heavy jawed. He looks kind of like the Terminator, and he doesn't waste time.
"What's he doing here?" Good, to the point, I like that.
"You wanted the genetic blueprint for the human/alien hybrid? He's it." I can be succinct too.
"His name?" As if the bastard didn't know.
"Fox Mulder." There's a reaction, and at last, paydirt. They are all coming out of the woodwork and there's enough noise so that when I say the words only Fox and I hear them…
…And Langly.
"Okay, Langly, do it."
Nothing seems to happen, and then my teeth start to ache. I look at Fox and he's holding his hand to his head. He's in pain. I stumble to him and hold him tight, tighter, tightest in an effort to cope as my own pain sparkles along my nerve endings. I see blood, black in the strange, undersea lighting, trickle from his nostrils, and I lurch to him, wanting the comfort of his proximity.
There's screaming, and the air shimmers but all I can see is Fox, face contorted as we jitter in the thrall of pain. I'm spattered by… something, and then again…
He falls against me and the pain bursts bright inside my head, eclipsing thought, dousing reason, covering life with a fine, soft layer of forgetfulness.
When I awake I'm in a bed and my surroundings are meaningless to me. The room is empty of character and I deduce that it's a hospital when I notice the height of the bed. I check my extremities. I can move. I can see. All is quiet. I throw back the covers and sit, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.
Oh, good job, someone. I'm naked, save for one of those dinky little hospital garments that don't fasten down the back. It barely reaches to mid-thigh and at each move I make there are parts of me that stick out. When I gather it around me to cover my ass, it rides up enough that my package dangles below the hemline. Oh, for a mirror, a camera, anything!
The doorway at the foot of the bed leads me to a mirror. It's a bathroom and beside the small wash basin there's the mirror. I face it with a grin and then stop, horrified.
My face is black and blue. I look as though I've been in the fight to end all fights. I moan.
Then I freeze.
I can hear nothing. What the hell?
I turn on the tap… Nothing. I'm deaf.
I panic for a minute or two, crouching down in a huddle. What will I do? I'm a one armed, deaf assassin with a price on my head. I won't last a day. I'm doomed. Funny how the survival instinct kicks in when you consider that I was ready to end it all yesterday. I know how crazy my current fears must sound, but so much has happened since then.
My thoughts fly to Fox. Where is he? Why am I here, and what the hell has happened?
Heartsick and worried, I uncurl myself and venture out feeling shaken and vulnerable, with my ass hanging out.
There are no lockers or cupboards that might be concealing my clothing. I shrug. Bare assed it must be. I head for the door and fling it open just in time to hurtle into the midst of an altercation between Fox, who is similarly clad, and Scully, who is waving her arms as he strides towards me.
He sees me and stops still. I can see that his face is as bruised and empurpled as mine. The expression in his eyes, however, is all that I've ever wanted.
It's a cliché, I know, but right then the world stops and I see only him. Somehow, I stumble to him, standing in front of him, wanting to tell him that nothing matters now but this.
From the corner of my eye I catch sight of a giggling candy striper, but I don't care, because I'm in his arms, being held tighter than tight, and who cares that my ass is hanging free?
No sound disturbs my thoughts as my eyes drink him in and my every nerve ending vibrates with the depths of my feelings. We drink each other down with our gaze.
"Can you hear?" I ask him, and he keeps right on smiling into my eyes.
"Can he hear?" I turn to Scully, afraid now that he's been damaged the way I have.
Scully's grave shake of the head and her stricken look is all that I need. My heart sinks. Oh, my beautiful Fox.
I turn my eyes back to him, and he leans forward to lay soft lips against mine, just that, and no more as he holds me against him.
Houston, we have a problem. This fucking, flimsy gown I'm almost wearing is not keeping anything down. If I pull back and move away from him now it won't just be my ass on show, and Scully will probably shoot me.
I can't help laughing, and he draws back looking inquiring and slightly hurt. I cast a studied glance down towards the affected area, and another at our steadily gathering audience before flicking my eyes back to his face with a rueful smile.
Wonderful! A blush seeps across his features, staining his cheeks a dull red. I giggle. Looking around, they are all still there. I have to do something.
"Scully, if you want to be of any help at all to him, you'll find a way to get all of these people out of here right now." As I speak I'm trying all of the usual things to keep my erection under control. I'm counting backwards; I'm thinking of Joan Rivers fucking William Shatner; I'm thinking of cold showers. I'm feeling Fox pressed tight against me, erect and moving slightly sending delicious friction though me, and oh, shit! It isn't working.
I look back at him. That's it. That's the end. He moves in on me, lush lips parting as his head tilts and how can I possibly say no? My mouth opens under his and wet silk abrades me as I taste his slippery center, straining to give him back touch for touch, caress for caress.
Once again my eyes close, and I'm drowning in a sea of sensuality as his tongue moves against mine, the taste of him makes me drunk.
When we draw apart at last, Scully has chased the others away, and is standing with her back firmly turned to us, and it's at last possible to draw apart despite our X-rated apparel.
I glance down at Fox and burst into laughter. There's absolutely no doubt that he's a boy. Just look at that thing. He's laughing too now. I can see it, and despite the bruising it's a wonderful sight. He takes my arm and bundles me quickly into the room opposite to the place in which I awoke.
He casts around and then settles for pulling the bedclothes off to drape over us. Not a moment too soon, for Scully stalks in, bristling indignation almost as soon as we are decently covered.
We then try to have a conversation. It's a strange conversation and leaves me with the sensation that somehow I'm trying to knit fog. I demand my clothes, and so does Fox. I can tell from the gestures he makes. She leaves in search of pen and paper, and instantly he's holding me again, kissing the breath out of me, bearing me back to lie over me on his bed, while I tremble in his arms because I still can't believe this.
When she returns with the pen and paper, we are necking like teens, and she has to slap Fox sharply on his behind before we notice that she's there. We settle down to converse, Fox and I glued to each other and Scully frowning from the chair beside the bed.
The first thing that we establish is that our clothes are gone. They were apparently covered in alien goo, and discarded when we were brought here. Scully undertakes to find us some more clothes if we can be patient. Fox nods - somewhat impatiently.
They don't know if the hearing loss is permanent due to total destruction of the cochlea, or whether we'll regain our hearing as all the bruising fades. If we're damaged permanently, we're very good candidates for cochlear implants, so the odds are good that one way or another we'll both hear again.
Meanwhile we're learning to communicate together after years spent fighting. We need to find new ways to work things out between us without violence. It may be a very long time before we have that talk we promised each other.
That's really why I'm writing this. I want him to know what went through my mind that day that I knocked on his door. I want him to know how my heart leaps when he touches me, and to believe that he and I are too close now ever to be apart again.
I want him to know that I love him.
Things are looking up.
The End
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