Path of Return

by Exfilia

CLASSIFICATION: ratfic. mostly PWP. hetsmut with a slash backstory

SUMMARY: poor Alex tries to reach outside the circle of the Consortium, if for only one night

RATING: NC-17 for seriously explicit body rubbing.

DISTRIBUTION: only to NC-17 sites with age restrictions plainly posted, please.

DISCLAIMER: All X-files characters belong to Ten-Thirteen and are used with no intent to profit and most assuredly without permission.

Path of Return
by Exfilia

Alex knocked back his drink. He wasn't sure of the legal closing time on Friday nights in Atlanta,
but the barkeep was hovering in front of the register, having pointedly cleaned every inch of the establishment except the spots in front of his two remaining customers. Alex inspected his own hands. Clean. Nothing under the nails. No Lady MacBeth stains. Everything was as it should be,
except in his mind. All the vodka in the world couldn't wash away the blood in his mind.

"Give me one more, and I'm out of here," he told the bartender. A glass appeared in front of him.
He gulped the contents and stood up.

Well, he tried to stand up. The floor tilted maliciously, and Alex swayed against the bar.

"You all right?" The other customer was standing beside him, her hands on his shoulders.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry about that."

"You're not driving, are you?"

"I'll be all right."

She shook her head.

"Only one problem with that."

"Whazzat?"

"Somewhere downtown a team of paramedics is going to have to abandon their pinochle game and come get you when you have an accident, and a trauma team is going to have to miss the late movie to put you back together, and some cop is going to have to call your wife and tell her...."

"I don't have a wife."

"Well, you might hit someone who does, so why don't we just skip all that and let me take you
home."

"Lady, are you hitting on me?"

"No. At least I don't think so. And you're too drunk right now for it to matter, so come on and let me take care of you."

"You got a boyfriend gonna beat the crap out of me?"

"No. No, my husband is dead. He was a pilot, and... well, that's neither here nor there. Except I don't want someone else to lose someone they love because I let you try to drive when you can hardly walk." She paused. "Do I look like I have that kind of boyfriend?"

She wasn't that bad looking, actually. She was tall and thin with a cloud of dirty blond hair and
dancing eyes... well, maybe he just couldn't see straight, but they were green, or maybe hazel, or
maybe it varied with how you looked at her. Her face was a little round, and her nose perhaps a
bit larger than was fashionable, but she was by no means unattractive. She was wearing a rumpled business suit--probably came here straight from work and made a night of it. So why was a woman like that still in a place like this at closing
time?

It didn't matter. She steered him out the door and into her car, and took the motel key and shook
her head.

"You don't look like the type for this neighborhood."

"You don't look like the type for that bar."

"I havn't done that in years, but my kids are with my dad, and I had a really bad day at work."

What this woman didn't know about hard days at work would fill an encyclopedia.

"Not really that," she said when he didn't speak. "Tomorrow my father is going to try to fix me up
with some government flunky, and... well, here I am, a professional lady, a widow with three kids
and a government pension on top of what I make, and he wants to find a man to take care of me. I guess I'm just trying to assert a little independance."

"Sitting in a bar at midnight?"

"I was there all night. I kept turning down every chance I was offered. Maybe I just wanted to know I could."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a diagnostician with the CDC. What about you?"

"You? You're a doctor?"

"Oh, you don't approve of female doctors?"

"I only know two , and they don't practice."

"Neither of them?"

"I think one's retired, from medecine anyway. She had a stroke."

"Probably is, then. What about the other one?"

"She's a bitch."

"Ex-wife?"

"Pathologist."

"Ex-girlfriend?"

"Hell on wheels."

"You aren't going to tell me about her, are you?"

"She's five feet three inches tall with hair like fire and silk and eyes like the bottom of a very deep pool, and she can beat any man in the FBI in a short sprint. She's the second-best marksman I've ever met, and she hates my guts."

"Ex-wife?" she asked again.

"If I'd ever had anyone like her.... old Spooky's crazy as a loon."

"Who's Spooky?"

"Damn fool who doesn't know he loves her."

"Do you love her?"

"Nah. I love him."

She laughed at him, and pulled into the motel parking lot. "Come on," she said.

He expected her to stop at his door, but she came in and closed it behind her.

"You aren't really gay, are you?"

"I'm really drunk."

"Yeah, me, too. Drunk I can live with." She stripped Alex effeciently, parked him on his back on the bed and tugged and teased at her own clothing until the last bit fell away.

"You sure you're a doctor?" he asked, and then sat bolt upright. She was making the hurt puppy
dog eyes, just like....

"What's wrong?" She pushed him back down, stretched herself beside him and took one of his
nipples in her mouth, just as Mulder would... he had to get over this. He'd never had problems
with women before Mulder. Or after, for that matter. Not until Marita....

"You're a thousand miles away."

"Am I?"

She nodded.

"Can you bring me back?"

"Close your eyes."

He felt her pull away, and then her warm weight sitting on top of him. She took him in her hands,
gentle, almost tender hands kneading the soft flesh, and then her weight shifted and she was holding him against her, nestled against the mat of dark curls.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"Nice. I don't know if it'll do much good, though."

"It's doing me a world of good." It must be. She was wet against him, smearing her dripping need up and down the length of him. He felt himself twitch in her hands and opened his eyes to find
her gazing down at him, sucking her bottom lip, again, just as Mulder did.

"What is it?" she said.

"You remind me of him."

"That's flattering. Does this remind you of him?" She wriggled a bit, and suddenly there was bare
moist flesh burning against his shaft. Somehow his hand was on her breast, teasing one taut nipple into a little mound of pleasure.

"I want... to be... inside you..."

She rocked forward, and on the back stroke she buried his whole length in tight wet warmth, and
he screamed. Her hands were still clawing at her own sensitive flesh, her eyes tightly closed, and
she leaned further forward with each stroke until her hard nipples were grazing his chest as she
moved. He touched her face. Her eyes flew open, and she looked at him and this time she was the one who screamed, her body driving itself down on his hard length again and again and again, until she tapered down to a whimper and collapsed against him.

"Good?" he asked.

"Been too long."

"I'd wondered."

"Wondered what?"

"If you were... really a doctor."

"Emory University, Class of '92. I didn't work my way through on my back, either."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because my life has been really weird, and I wanted just this one normal thing."

"It can't... I mean, I can't stay. I can't come back or anything."

"That's okay. I can remember. I will always... remember."

"That's all you want?"

"Uh-huh. What do you want?"

He twitched himself inside her, and she gasped. "I want to pound you into this bed so hard the people three floors down complain."

In the morning, of course, she was gone. Alex showered and dressed, took a cab to collect the rental car and drove to the park for his meeting. The old man was standing at a railing, looking up
the hill at a white tiger washing its butt with its leg in the air like a gigantic housecat. At the far end two grade school children and a teenager were giggling to their mother over it.

Alex moved in close, so as not to be overheard, and leaned against the rail.

"Did all go well?" he was asked.

"Yeah, pretty well."

"You're sure? You didn't sound well, on the phone."

"I had a good night. I'm fine now."

"Good, because there's someone I want you to meet. She doesn't know anything about what we do, Alex, and if anything should happen to me, she's going to need someone to take care of her." His voice rose. "Sammy?"

The woman and her children came down to their end of the railing. The woman. Blond hair in a
French braid, green eyes behind wire rims, but still the same woman, with the same no longer
eerie resemblance to Fox Mulder. She stopped and stared at him while the children danced around
their grandfather and the world tumbled its axis end over end at least half a dozen times.

"Sammy," came a voice from very far away, "this is the gentleman I told you about, Alexei Krycek. Alex, my daughter, Samantha Evangeopoulos."

The End