Chapter 9

Derek is already seated at the table reading The Guardian when I'm brought into the dining room. Something seems out of place and it takes me a second to realize that he is not alone as is normal at breakfast. Seated around the large glass table are the rest of Derek's employees; Dr Conway, the chauffeur, bodyguard #2 and various other house and grounds staff. It's the first time I've seen so many of my fellow employees in the same room together.

Conway is the only one who looks up at me. Her soft blue eyes display professional concern for my health, but also something extra that I can't quite put my finger on. I give her a brief smile to let her know I appreciate her concern and turn my attention to my employer.

There is a place setting on Derek's left, but I'm unsure if it's for me as he usually requires that I kneel at his feet so I'm in easy reach for scraps of food as well as affection. I'm hoping that my punishment is over but I'm not going to make any assumptions.

I let the bodyguard steer me to Derek's side. The creep's hand slides down to cup my ass, safe in the knowledge that his boss can't see him taking liberties with his slave. The fact that I'm not at all worried about still another person touching me is, in itself, worrying as if that's the only reason for my existence. I've had so many unwanted hands and mouths on me and fingers and cocks in me, what's one more added to the tally?

Christ, snap out of the woe-is-me routine, I silently berate myself. From now until I escape this hell-hole, I've got to act the part, walk the walk and talk the talk.

Apparently Derek had given his delivery instructions to muscle-boy before sending him to release me from the frame. The only vacant chair is pulled out from the table and I seat myself. He moves away to take up his usual position just inside the doorway as the butler enters with a large silver tray.

Derek folds his paper and puts it to one side when the butler begins serving him. He hasn't said anything to me, hasn't even acknowledged my presence. He keeps glancing at his Rolex, at a small security monitor that sits on the sideboard and then at Conway as if she can affect what he is seeing on the monitor. It's obvious that he doesn't like what he sees.

I steal a glance of my own and see that it shows the guest room I took Mulder to last night. Our "guest" is either still unconscious or asleep, his long arms resting by his side, his slender fingers slightly curled. The hood and blindfold are gone and he looks very peaceful. His face, turned slightly towards the window, is bathed in the early morning sun, bringing out the highlights in his chestnut-brown hair. His swimsuit is filled nicely by his morning erection.

My mouth begins to water at the sight. The image of taking him deep in my throat, of feeling him buck and thrust, trying to bring himself off while I try to delay it as long as possible sends an electric shiver straight to my groin.

Fuck. He is absolutely, fucking gorgeous, and I can feel my cock beginning to swell in its harness. I'm glad for the large cloth napkin that covers the evidence of my arousal.

Derek finally grants me the pleasure of his attention and I quickly avoid his gaze, focussing instead on the breakfast before me; a meal I have absolutely no appetite for. My jaw is still bruised where he struck me and my throat raw from screaming.

He places his left hand over my right, stroking my skin softly from bandaged wrist to broken fingernails. I look up at him almost against my will and find myself nearly drowning in his deep blue eyes.

Don't get suckered in with soft touches and warm eyes, I warn myself. Remember his promise and never forget his betrayal.

I blink a couple of times to escape his magnetism and start to pick at the food.

"I think you've learnt your lesson, Alex, and I know you won't repeat your mistake," he says as Roger pours us both cups of strong, black tea. The other staff present have started eating and whispering quietly amongst themselves.

"Yes, Sir." I don't look at him, my eyes staying fixed on the plate in front of me. He briefly takes hold of my chin, raising my bowed head and forces me to look at him before he resumes stroking my hand.

"I know you are sorry, Alex. I regret having to take such drastic action."

I can't believe that a) he is apologizing for what he did and b) he is doing so in front of all his servants. His next words throw those outrageous ideas out the window.

"But you left me no alternative."

That's right, blame me, you bastard. It takes enormous effort not to shout those words out loud, not to rise from my seat, put my hands around his throat and squeeze every last drop of life out of him.

Just when I think that Derek can't sink any lower, he comes up with a statement that destroys any trace of respect I once had for him.

"You must learn not to touch things that don't belong to you."

I was so under his spell that I was willing to be treated like a possession in return for shelter, food and sex. I foolishly thought for the first time in my life that sex equalled love when I was taken in by Derek.

This sickening reference to Mulder as a *thing* he has ownership of is the final straw that breaks the leash between Master and slave. Even old Smokey had more humanity. At least his sins were committed with the intention of saving the human race.

I know Derek is waiting for a suitable reply so I slip into the familiar role of contrite slave ashamed at having failed his master.

I just know the rest of the staff, especially the muscle-boys, are enjoying seeing me debase myself in front of them. I can almost hear their sneers...

"'Bout time the cocky, arrogant whore was put back in his place."

"He thought he was so much better than the rest of us just because he's the boss's toy-boy slut."...

With the mask of humility firmly in place, I feel more confident of being able to recite the lines Derek is waiting to hear. I refuse to think of him as Master any longer, though I know I must continue to address him as such in order for my act to be believed.

"I'm sorry for letting you down, Master. I should have taken more care when handling your property."

I feel sick to my stomach at having to utter these disgusting words; forced to reduce one of the strongest, most independent men I have ever known down to the level of an object owned by another man. I pray to a god I stopped believing in long ago that Derek doesn't make me repeat those degrading words in Mulder's presence for I won't be responsible for my actions.

Those around me don't react to my vile confession. I might as well be apologizing for breaking a favourite vase. I doubt that Derek would have told them why I had been punished and they would have considered it none of their business. He could run naked up the main street of DC and none of his "slaves" would dare question his sanity. I know I wouldn't have, this time yesterday.

"I only wanted to please you." A single tear, shed for the hellish life I have delivered Mulder into but visible only to Derek, rolls slowly down my cheek.

I lift his hand to my lips and kiss each finger.

"Alex. Look at me, love. I want to see your beautiful green eyes."

I obediently raise my eyes.

"I want to see how sorry you are," he says, putting his fork down and placing his right hand on the belt of his robe. He unties it and the robe falls open, revealing his well-muscled torso with its smattering of dark hair.

I can guess where this is leading and flick a worried look at the other servants who are quietly watching the scene unfold. Derek has never made me perform in front of any of the house staff before. He probably thinks I still need to be taken down a peg to two. His words as he was lowering me into the pit last night come back to me.

..." You need to be reminded of your place in this house and how to fulfill your duties to my satisfaction."...

He plans on making this a demonstration and me an example to the others. He means to humiliate and demean me, to trample what little self-worth I've got left under his five-hundred buck designer slippers.

"Show me that you love me, boy. Show me that you wish to please me." His voice is low and menacing and I just know he won't hesitate to repeat last night's terrifying events if I fail to obey his commands.

I take a deep breath and rise. Derek, still holding my hand, guides me the couple of steps between our chairs. He parts his muscular legs and I can see his cock hanging limp between them.

I did mention that the table-top is made of glass, didn't I? Transparent glass? Usually, it's covered with an antique lace cloth that reaches almost to the floor. This very explicit act of submission is going to be very visible to everyone in the room, and I'm sure this is exactly what Derek intends.

Don't I arouse him any more? Is that why he had me collect Mulder, to bring a fresh, unexplored ass into his bed?

I no longer believe that I will be permitted to touch Mulder, at least not sexually, unless it's for Derek's pleasure. I was a fool to entertain such fanciful expectations in the first place. I'm just a stray mongrel he picked up from the streets. Why would he want me any more when he's got a pure-bred pedigree upstairs? He might even not bother searching for me should I manage to dig my way out of my kennel, but I know for sure that he would spare no expense in finding and reclaiming Mulder. I know I would if our situations were reversed.

I make up my mind to free Mulder as well as myself. I couldn't stand being free knowing the sort of life and treatment I left him behind to endure. Would he even want to come with me and, more importantly, stay with me once we make our break for freedom? After I broke into his home, bound and drugged him and then brought him here against his will? He did respond to my kiss just before I hooded him, but that was under very stressful conditions. As far as he knew I held his life in my hands and could snuff it out anytime I wished. Maybe he thought that, by not resisting, I would spare his life.

I'm still pissed that I got punished because of his actions, and looking back, I suppose I could have done things differently. I could have talked to him more, letting him know what I was doing so he wouldn't be startled when I touched him in a place reserved for only the closest of intimate acquaintances. It must have been as terrifying a situation for him, his hands bound behind his back, his head encased in a filthy pillow-case, as my night in the frame-slot.

But I have learnt well the lessons Derek has taught me. I was so aroused by the fantasy of Mulder belonging to me as I belong...*belonged* to my Master that I treated him the way I am treated; a piece of property with no say in how my body is used. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Mulder wants absolutely nothing to do with me *if* I can manage to get us out of Derek's clutches. All I can do to make amends is try to protect him from harm at the hands of the man I delivered him to.

Derek still hasn't moved his chair back, while I've been lost in my musings so I'll have to crawl partway under the table to position myself. With the skin-tight jeans I'm dressed in, even walking and sitting isn't comfortable. I'm likely to castrate myself when kneeling down on all fours. I make a move to undo the button on my Levi's but Derek halts me with a shake of his head.

"No, Alex. This is for my pleasure, not yours." He obviously thinks I want to free my cock so I can jerk myself off, when that thought never even crossed my mind.

He puts a hand on my shoulder, pushing me to my knees. The faded denim is drawn up between my buttocks, forcing the plug in my ass even deeper, causing it to scrape against my prostate. But it brings me only pain when combined with the pressure on my restrained cock and balls.

I'm sure my face is the same shade of crimson as Derek's robe as I crawl underneath the table and turn to face his crotch. His cock is still soft and limp and I know this ain't gonna be a speedy blowjob. As I raise my hand to grasp his shaft I hear his command.

"Give me your hands, Alex."

I obey and he holds them firmly on his thighs, leaving me to continue my task with only my mouth. He crosses his feet behind my back, trapping me. He still doesn't fully trust me not to try to escape.

His cock nudges my lips and I part them, extending my tongue, flicking it across the dry head, leaving drops of saliva on the tip.

I repeat this randomly all over his cock from the base to the crown then underneath to the softest, most sensitive areas. Soon it is coated in saliva and gradually getting hard, rising a little above his balls. I open my mouth and capture him, just the head for now. Maybe I can seduce my way back into his favor and then into his bed.

My tongue explores every spot on the sensitized tip, wrapping itself around the now-rigid member, licking the first drops of fluid from the slit. He hasn't made a sound, but I feel him grip my hands tighter, so I assume I'm pleasing him. I decide to speed things up a bit and scrape my teeth lightly across the surface as I slowly suck him into my mouth. This has the desired effect and he bucks once, twice in search for more stimulation. I trace the length of his shaft from balls to the flared head, varying the amount of suction and pressure I apply, knowing from hundreds of previous blowjobs what he likes and what he doesn't.

When he's as hard as he's gonna get I cease all movement, holding him immobile, refusing to continue even as his nails dig into the flesh of my hands. He lets me know I've overstepped the boundary of who is in control when he suddenly thrusts his hips forward, driving his cock to the back of my throat, activating my gag reflex. I instinctively relax my jaw and throat muscles, accepting his considerable length easily. He's still pushing deeper, not stopping until I can feel his hairy balls on my stretched lips.

I clench my fists once, twice. A desperate gagging sound escapes as I struggle to breathe. He releases my hands (knowing I won't move them and I don't) and grabs my hair, holding my head in place as he fucks my mouth even faster and harder. He thrusts forward again and again, his heavy, swollen balls slapping against my chin. I don't think he'll last much longer, which is good because I'm on the verge of passing out from oxygen starvation. I'm choking now, trying to pull back, needing to break the suction that binds us as one entity.

I feel the signs of his approaching orgasm as his cock begins to convulse in my mouth and his legs tremble uncontrollably. His balls pulsate against my chin and I try to prepare for the flood of semen that is about to fill my throat. I open my mouth wider as he comes without making a sound, but with my throat filled with his cock, there's nowhere for the semen to go except outwards and within seconds his balls and thighs are drenched in the creamy fluid. He waits for the final spasms to end before pulling out and pushing me away in disgust.

He slumps back in his chair, and I unconsciously lean forward to lick him clean, paying special attention to his balls as I know how uncomfortable dried sticky semen in conjunction with pubic hair can be. Derek shaved my pubes the night he brought me home, not out of any concern for my comfort but because he doesn't like hair in his mouth on the very infrequent times he sucks me off.

I'm once again only too aware of my audience as I rest back on my haunches and try to get my breath back. I try to ignore the bitterness of the semen in my mouth, a taste I've never really liked and like even less now.

An impatient poke from Derek's foot alerts me that I haven't finished my task. There's absolutely no way I can re-tie his belt without the use of my hands, which he hasn't given me permission to use. He has come to the same conclusion and reluctantly nods his approval.

I hurry to cover him up, tying the neatest bow I can, making sure it's symmetrical and perfect.

I feel my hair being ruffled and I can finally relax, knowing that my act of contrition has been accepted.

He summons me from under the table with a typical click of his fingers and I'm by his side in a second. With a loving smile, he motions me to take my seat and breakfast continues as if the last few minutes had never occurred.

Derek discusses security measures at his home in England with his two bodyguards, then turns to his private pilot and asks about flight plans for our impending trip overseas.

I'm as invisible to him now as I was when I came into the room. He continues to pet me, though, more out of habit than anything else.

Conway catches my eye and that emotion I saw earlier but couldn't identify is now as clear as the glass table. It's pity, pure and simple. There's no disgust or horror at what she just witnessed. She's sincerely sorry for me and my situation. Her eyes have been well and truly opened in the last hour or so about the sort of man she works for and how he treats those he considers beneath himself, which is everyone.

Breakfast is over and the staff start to leave the room, intent on carrying out their various duties. Soon there is just me, Derek and the doctor left. Roger comes in and begins to clear the table.

"I'd better go and check on my patient. He should be waking soon and I have to check his vitals." Conway addresses Derek with a tone of authority I've never heard anyone use in his presence before.

"That won't be necessary, Doctor. I'll be going to see him shortly. I'll summon you if there is any need for your assistance." Derek is staring once again at the monitor and his face lights up.

Mulder has begun to stir and I grin as I see that he has noticed my little fashion statement from last night. He's trying to set the Speedo right, but the restraints on his wrists don't allow him enough movement and he soon gives up.

I'm relieved that he doesn't appear to have suffered any serious damage from his fall and wonder if his condition is the reason Derek hasn't been to see him yet.

My boss isn't the type to let a little unconsciousness stop him from fucking your brains out. In fact, he prefers to have his pets completely passive and unresisting, as I have found out on numerous occasions.

Why should he treat Mulder any different? Because he considers Mulder as something more special than a pet.

He's never raised an eyebrow when I'm groped by anyone else. If anything he seems to enjoy sharing me around with various business associates and other acquaintances. At the many lavish dinner parties he's hosted since my arrival, I've been on the menu as dessert too many times to count. I had never complained because, with the exception of the bitch-from-Hell, I was always treated well and made to feel special and I was happy to please my Master.

"Is Mulder all right?" I ask Derek, not having to fake the concern in my voice. "Maybe I shouldn't have left him last night after he hit his head."

Conway looks at me and then glares at Derek as if she didn't know how Mulder was injured.

Don't ask, Doc, I silently warn her. There are many things that happen in this house right under your nose that you don't wanna know about. The less you know the safer you'll be. Just do your job and don't interfere.

"Why didn't you tell me he had a head injury? He could be suffering from concussion or worse." Her tone is urgent and full of worry. She's pushing her chair back to leave when Derek's hand flashes out of nowhere and latches onto her wrist with a vice-like grip.

"I said your help is not needed. Fox has woken up and he will be fine." Derek says.

"I can't do my job properly if I don't have all the details."

"I tell you what you need to know. If you are not satisfied with that then we can discuss terminating your contract."

It's a threat disguised as a compromise. I'm well aware of what would be terminated and it won't just be an employment contract.

Conway seems to have realized the same thing and she sits back down. She is genuinely frightened now and she has good reason to be. There is no way Derek would let her leave this house alive after the things she has witnessed and, by association, participated in. Administering drugs against a person's will and treating wounds that could have only been caused by severe maltreatment verging on torture are just some of the many things she has done that could have her arrested as an accessory.

Welcome to the club, Doc. She is now a fellow victim, but I'm hoping she may also be a possible ally. With her knowledge and access to the wide range of drugs kept on the premises, she may be the key to getting both Mulder and myself out of here.

"I am only concerned for the well being of my patient. I apologize for over-stepping the line, Mr Benedict."

"Thankyou, Doctor. I'm glad we agree on who's in charge here." Derek accepts the Doc's words and releases her arm. I can see the reddened flesh from where I sit and I sympathise with the pain she must be feeling. "Now, did you order the necessary items for the flight home? Fox is terribly afraid of flying and will need to be sedated for the duration."

This is news to me. Mulder and I weren't partners for very long but on the couple of flights we took, he was the poster-boy for calmness and relaxation. Whilst the plane was still taxiing, he would have his laptop or case file open, studying its contents, a constant flow of sunflower seeds being sucked between plump lips, empty husks spat out seconds later. I would be next to him, nervous as anything and as white as a ghost. My fingers would be digging into the arm-rests and the belt would be as tight as I could make it.

He asked me on our first flight together why I joined the Bureau if I was afraid of flying, knowing the amount of travel the work entailed. I came up with some glib reply about having seen the movie The Untouchables and growing up wanting to be Eliot Ness. He smiled and told me that I should start a support group at the Hoover building for agents with the same problem and that Scully would be the first to sign up.

Conway is replying, her flash of rebellion well and truly gone.

"Yes, that has all been taken care of. I really should see his medical history to check for allergic reactions and..."

"Fox has had them prescribed before and they are perfectly safe." Derek cuts her off and places his napkin on the table.

How the hell does he know what drugs Mulder has been prescribed and whether they are safe or not? Has he had him under surveillance? Has he had someone hack into his private life, find out his weaknesses and vulnerability? I wonder how long he has had Mulder in his sights, just waiting for the opportunity to snatch him. It's even possible that he may have had prior contact with Mulder, a scorned lover perhaps. Maybe he met Mulder somewhere, made a pass that was ignored and decided not to take no for an answer.

In the first weeks after he took me off the streets, he grilled me constantly about my life and who I associated with. He said that he wanted to get to know me better, that he didn't want me keeping any secrets from him and I responded. He was especially interested in my time in the FBI. I don't recall telling him specifically about Mulder and I don't think he asked me his name. I told him about my first partner who fell from grace when he turned his back on a promising career as a profiler to investigate UFO's and ghosts; how some of his superiors considered losing him to the basement a waste of rare talent and a fine Oxford education.

I had thought he would return the favor and tell me about his life and those he cared about, but he never did. All I ever heard about was his precious, bloody abbey and his plans for the future.

He stands up and walks out of the room after taking one last look at the monitor. A very contented look is on his face and I know that he is headed up to the guest room and to Mulder. I also know that he won't be wanting any company so I don't even bother following him.

Instead I focus on Mulder. He's staring at an item on the pillow next to his cheek. I can't tell what he is thinking but there is shock and a trace of fear in his eyes. The object is affecting him and not in a good way.

He scans the room and sees something out of camera range that only increases his apprehension. A few seconds later, he stares directly into the hidden camera lens as if he knew exactly where it was and a single tear rolls down one cheek.

I desperately want to race upstairs, break the solid door down and wipe that tear away as I did in the car. To free him from the straps that hold him captive, take him in my arms, out of this house and as far away as possible.

A question from Conway interrupts my heroic fantasizing.

"...he? What does Derek want with him?"

I'm at a loss as to how to reply. Do I tell her that he had me kidnap Mulder and that I obeyed because I've wanted to shove my cock up Mulder's ass since the first day I saw him? That he plans on taking Mulder to his bed as his partner, as his lover, whether Mulder is willing or not?

If I want to enlist her help, I have to get her to trust me, to see that I was just following orders, just like her. I'm going to have to take a gamble that her concern for Mulder is genuine and not just a smokescreen constructed out of fear of our employer.

"I was told to bring Mulder here and I did. I think Derek may have had his eye on him for a while. You know how he likes to collect things, rare and beautiful things?"

She nods her head slowly as if she knows what I'm saying but doesn't want to believe it.

"Well, he has just added my ex-partner to his collection. As to what he wants with him? It won't be as public as me on my knees under the table, but the basic idea is the same." I try to make my answer as nonchalant as possible, but I'm as afraid for Mulder now as I ever was when we were partners and he was in danger.

"Ex-partner? Were you and Fox lovers?" She asks me as we make our way outside and hopefully away from anyone who would report our conversation to Derek in hope of currying favor.

"Lovers? No." I reply. I'm sure she can hear the disappointment in my voice. "We were partners at work for a short time. We weren't close but I did respect and admire him." I don't add that I also loved him. It's something I've never admitted to anyone and never will.

"So Fox is truly here against his will?" It's a rhetorical question and she doesn't pause to let me answer. "I was so shocked when I went to check on him last night and found him chained to the bed, a filthy hood covering his head."

I automatically lower my head in shame at how I actively participated in mistreating Mulder and how much of a buzz it gave me to see him so utterly helpless and at my mercy.

Conway squeezes my arm softly, drawing my eyes to hers.

"Oh, Alex. He made you do it, didn't he?"

I nod.

"And he punished you because Fox got hurt."

Another nod. I can't speak for fear of breaking down and crying. No-one has spoken to me with such tenderness since I was a boy when my mother would sooth me as I recovered from one of my father's frequent beatings.

We stop under a giant oak tree, the same one where Derek once made love to me under its huge canopy of branches and leaves. She wraps her arms around me, her head fitting comfortably under my chin because of her small stature. This unexpected (and undeserved) kindness breaks down my defences and I begin to sob, slowly at first. It's when she begins to rub my back, just like Mama, that the dam gives way and all the hurt and pain and betrayal pour out in a flood of tears and anguished howls.

I curse and condemn to hell all the bastards and bitches who have ever laid a hand on me, have touched, groped and fondled me, have fucked me and sucked me. And those who have stood by and watched me being abused, have held me down so I could be raped and whipped. All those who tied the ropes and locked the shackles so that I couldn't defend myself, couldn't protect myself from being their whipping-boy and punching-bag.

She can't support my weight and we collapse together to the damp, leaf-covered ground. I don't know how long she holds me in her arms, rocking me and whispering meaningless but soothing words into my ear as she strokes my hair. Her sweater is a sodden, wrinkled mess when my tears finally start to ease and I sit up, snot running from my nose and down my throat.

She presses a lacy handkerchief into my hand without a word and I clean myself up, thankful that she didn't try to blow my nose for me as all mothers, real and substitute, are biologically trained to do.

"Mulder wouldn't be here if I had the guts to stand up to Derek."

"It's okay, Alex. Derek is not the type of person one stands up to without suffering the consequences."

She's trying her best to ease my conscience, to console me and it's helping a little, but not enough.

"I'll do whatever I can to help. I promised the same thing to Fox last night. Derek couldn't keep his hands off him and would have done a lot worse if Fox hadn't feigned unconsciousness. I managed to convince him to let him be but we both know that Derek won't leave him alone for much longer."

We both look up at the window on the second floor. The drapes have been pushed aside and Derek is visible through the security bars and safety glass. From his position, I can tell he is near the head of the bed and closer to Mulder than I want him to be.

I hope that Mulder doesn't draw his anger by resisting him but at the same time I don't want Mulder to submit to Derek's desires. I don't want him infected by Derek and his touches, his caresses and kisses.

"How will Fox react, do you think?" She doesn't have to say more. I know what she's referring to. "He didn't seem to know him last night, but I put that down to distress and the drug still in his system."

"I honestly don't know. He's a trained profiler, he'll be trying to get inside Derek's head, work out what to say or not to say, what to do and not to do. He needs to anticipate the subject's reactions and be ready to react himself." The few classes we had at the Academy covering behavioural profiling were brief, but I learnt enough to know at least some of what will be going through Mulder's mind as he battles Derek.

"Derek was adamant that they knew each other, that he was Fox's first lover. Fox didn't say much but I got a very strong feeling that he really didn't know who Derek was."

We are sitting side by side now, our fingers entwined in a totally platonic way. It's a means of support that I badly need and will need in the coming days. I just hope that by confiding in the doctor, I'm not handing her a death sentence. Maybe Mulder can arrange some sort of protection for her if we succeed in escaping and exposing Derek's crimes.

"They may in fact know each other and Derek may be right about what their relationship was. Mulder may not remember him."

Conway looks at me questioningly, her eyes asking me to explain.

"About eighteen months ago, Mulder trespassed onto a government military base and was caught. He had been investigating the disappearance of an Air Force pilot and what he considered was a conspiracy and cover-up involving our government, the military and another organization. It was decided by the leaders of that organization that he was too close and had seen things that weren't meant to be seen. They couldn't let him leave with that knowledge so the top boss ordered that those memories be removed. I don't know all the details, but I do know that the mind-wipe, as it was called, worked and those memories were successfully erased. And from what you say happened last night, I'm guessing that he lost a few others as well."

I finish my tale and expect to be met with disbelief, but the doctor just shakes her head a couple of times. It's my turn now to ask for an explanation.

"After my internship, I worked in emergency at a hospital in Harlem. I saw some pretty nasty injuries, gunshots, knife wounds, limbs hacked off with machetes, people deliberately set on fire. I thought I had seen all the ways humans can hurt each other, but I guess I was wrong. What sort of person would steal another's memories, erase them as if they were simply files on a computer? We don't really know exactly what memories are or how they are created and stored. How can someone fool around with something so precious and unknown, oblivious to the potential danger?"

She looks up at me as if I've got all the answers. I just shrug and pull her close.

"The sort of person with the appropriate technology and maybe just the power to save the planet and every living being on it."

I stand up, ending our conversation with that cryptic reply and help to her feet.

I glance at the window and see Derek step back and remove his robe, his intention perfectly clear and my heart misses a few beats. Knowing I can't stop what is about to happen, I send up a silent prayer that Derek is gentle with Mulder, that maybe Mulder will remember him and will welcome his advances and his body.

Be strong and brave, Fox. I will rescue you as soon as I can and I will make amends for what I've done even if it takes the rest of my life.

END OF CHAPTER 9