***
Salmon Falls, CA
West of Santa Rosa
Day Twenty
Hour 0645Mulder was roused slightly when he heard the sound of twigs snapping and knew someone was walking just outside the circle of tents-walking away from the campsite. He came awake then, absolutely, without any residual confusion that some wakers suffered those first delicate minutes of consciousness. He looked to see Scully snuggled deep in the confines of her navy colored, insulated sleeping bag. One strand of red hair peeked out like an antenna, but nothing more.
He dressed hurriedly. Wanting, for some reason, to find the person who was leaving camp. As he carefully unzipped the tent flap and re-zipped it, he grew impatient. The footsteps on dry twigs were inaudible now. Whoever it was, though, had been walking toward the small river. He hurried in the same direction, wondering at his impatience to confront the person who he followed.
A small part of him knew who he would find-needed to find-to deal with!
And so, he was not surprised to come upon Skinner standing in the newly birthed light by the river, hands in his front pockets and staring up at the sunrise. He was taken aback for a moment at how different Skinner seemed. He wore faded denim jeans and a cable knit, cream sweater. His glasses were absent and Mulder wondered if he even needed them anymore. The familiar surge of desire for Skinner pulsed for a moment before Mulder resolutely pushed it aside.
"Plotting whom else to bargain away?" he asked. The sarcasm in his voice was no less bitter for its soft tone.
Skinner turned his face toward Mulder, closed his eyes slowly and then reopened them. He seemed about to say something, before he rubbed one hand over his balding head and just stared intently at Mulder.
"What? You aren't bothering to deny it?" Mulder moved toward him, his eyes narrowed and furious. "Who's next? Scully? Langly? Who?"
"Fox. Please don't look at me that way. I know what you are thinking but I honestly did what I thought was best." When Fox just glared at him, the hazel eyes filled with such reproach, Skinner felt the heaviness on his chest magnify. "I have no desire to separate you from Alex. I know I could...but I won't." He turned from Fox then, looking at dawn's riotous arrival on the low brush and slow-moving water. The display of color was almost a mockery in its beauty. "When I am assured that Garren will ally with myself and the others who will fight Murdoch-I will let you go to him as well. To go to Alex."
Mulder frowned at that and looked at Skinner through lash-shaded eyes. "You'd give us both away?" he said with a hint of scorn in his monotone voice.
Skinner looked at him. "I want you both. I love you both. You I love with my entire self-Alex I wanted to cherish-wanted to show him that not everyone would betray him." He gave a sarcastic laugh, "Fine job I did, too. But, if there is to be any type of peace in this new world, then I have to be willing to sacrifice everything." He made as if to touch Mulder's face and then withdrew his own hand as if Mulder was radiating some intense, unfriendly heat.
"You didn't even warn us," Mulder whispered.
"And what would you have done? Run?" Skinner shook his head. "Mulder, this world is not the same one in which you skipped about for years-Scully behind you, believing in you is not quite enough to protect you anymore. You wouldn't last a second-"
"Which is why we, Alex and I, agreed to be with you-for our prote-"
Skinner laughed, hollowly. "You agreed to what I wanted you to agree to, Fox. I didn't even really give you a choice did I?"
Mulder lifted his chin defiantly. "What do you hope to prove? This martyr act isn't working. You *gave* my lover away to some creature. I want you to get him back. Now!"
Skinner considered him, took in the flushed face, the pretty lips and he wanted him. Wanted to pretend for just a few hours that they were still in D.C. that there had never been such a thing as the Mediggo or the opening. Wanted to take that look from Fox's face-the same wild, distrustful look he had given him when Scully had been dying in the hospital.
"I can't. But I can let you go to him, Mulder. Either way, you will be forced to accept that he isn't ever going to be just yours alone."
Mulder blanched at that. For whatever reason, he did not want to go to Garren. He wanted Alex to come back. He knew with certainty that he would, in fact, go to Garren if that was the only way to be with Alex, but that was not something he looked forward to. Those gas flame eyes, that cruel smile. He had seen more warmth in the eyes of serial killers. Which, of course, Garren was. Minus even the more interesting psychosis that caused serial killer to kill. No, he mused cynically, Garren just liked to *eat* humans.
He shuddered. This was what had Alex?
"Not good enough," Mulder insisted. Denying that his not wanting to go to Garren had anything to do with the fact that he felt like hitting and holding Skinner at the same time. He could not forget the sweet moments after Mikhail, when he had wanted Walter all for himself. How sweet Walter had been. How much he loved him. Of course, he knew who he wanted-needed-to be with, but looking into the sad, chocolate eyes, he could barely keep from going to him for succor when he had caused it all.
No. Murdoch had caused it all. Was still working his dark purpose in the world, even as they stood there in the cool morning.
"Fox, my sweet Fox," Skinner sighed, unable to prevent his hand from sliding down Fox's arm. "It is what can happen for now. Antonio was telling you the truth last night. The world is in shambles. It is as bad as if the invasion you were so sure would happen had happened. Maybe worse. People are being slaughtered-"
"And what role did you play in it?" Mulder asked. "You went to end it-both you and Antonio, but you were part of it weren't you? Garren calls you Ascendant and Antonio, too. What are you? What did you do? What exactly is going on dammit!"
Skinner wasn't surprised by the questions, only that Fox had waited so long to ask them. The old Mulder would have been hounding him for the truth as soon as he had been hustled into the helicopter and flown westward. "It is not as simple as you might imagine."
"Indulge me," Fox sneered. "Pretend I have an extremely high IQ and that I can understand what you tell me."
Skinner nodded and began his tale. When he finished telling Mulder everything-all he knew from beginning to end, including the ceremony and the conversations with Baku, the history of the pure bloods-it was full morning. The heat of the day was already beginning to make itself known and insects were buzzing in the bushes and over the relatively still waters at the bank of the river.
Several minutes of silence followed Skinner's last words. Finally, Mulder looked again at Skinner with something less than full hostility. "I am not going to pretend that it is okay for me that you gave Alex away. But, I will say that I understand your reasons."
Skinner knew that Mulder did not condone his actions, never would, but he hoped that by letting go of him-the very idea of which tore at his heart with intractable claws-would one day lead Fox to forgive him for what he had to do. He wished he could be selfish enough to keep Fox-to keep him in spite of the certain hatred that would follow. Or he simply wished not to be responsible for the balance. That delicate balance between good and evil. Even were Murdoch to be destroyed there was enough evil in the world to counter good intentions. It would make things so much easier. If he had a choice, he would have given away his power and responsibility and lived out a happy life with Fox Mulder.
"There must be some way to get Garren to give Alex back to us."
Skinner stiffened at Mulder's word choice. He had said, "to us" not "to me." It was telling. "Fox, do you not *want* to leave me?"
Mulder frowned at the quiet whisper. Skinner's eyes were wide with something akin to hope and he wanted to dash it, to hurt him like he had hurt Alex. But he couldn't. "No. No I don't. But, I will go where Alex is. You have to understand that. And, Walter, you hurt him. I can forgive the rest, eventually, as I know why you did it, but I can't forgive that. Not that."
Walter nodded. The memory of Alex's beautiful face, so shocked, so betrayed, hurt him, too. "I can never forgive myself for that. I can only say that you must believe I would never have given him to Garren if I didn't *know* that Garren would treat him like a priceless jewel. Nothing would have made me do it, if I thought Garren might ever hurt Alex."
Mulder glared. "He's raped him! He's drugged him somehow-I'd say that is hurt enough, Skinner!"
"He's not drugged him, Mulder. He has bonded with him as I have with you, only in a different way. Alex loves you, Fox, but he wants to be with Garren, too. You know it as well as I. Alex told me so himself, and he admitted that he had upset you with the knowledge."
Mulder looked away. "I don't care! He loves me. He wouldn't leave me." The last words were almost whispered, confused and full of doubt. "Would he?"
Skinner did pull Mulder into his strong embrace then, cradling Fox's lean body to his with a groan. "I don't believe he would, Fox. I don't believe he would."
"I need to see him. Neither you nor Garren will stop me," Mulder promised, pulling away from Skinner. Their eyes met. "I need to know that he is all right. He needs to know that I want him here."
The implication was clear and though Mulder's intention was not to dig the blade of self-recrimination deeper into Skinner's heart, he did. There was no way around the guilt. He had hurt Alex, had promised never to give him up or let another have him. He had given Alex a glimpse of what it was like to be protected and safe and then had betrayed him as surely as anyone ever had. He would never forget the way that had felt, or how Alex's pain had washed over him like a tidal wave-a tsunami charging toward delicate shores.
He nodded.
***
Mulder made his way back to camp, hoping to find Scully up and alone. He was relieved to see her dressed and waiting for him just outside her tent. She gave him a small smile as she sat lacing up her boots. He took a moment to study her as she attended to her recalcitrant laces. There was a sad tilt to her lips, which he suspected had everything to do with Antonio's absence.
"Did you speak to Skinner already?" she asked, looking up at him through a fell of red hair.
He was put back for a moment before nodding. "I did."
"And," she hedged finishing with her boots and standing.
"And his giving of Alex stands. Of course he is now willing to let me go as well in order to be with him."
"Do you believe that?" Scully asked, a worried frown marring the otherwise smooth brow. Her eyes were narrowed with concern and Mulder shrugged. "Well?"
"What reason would he lie now?"
"To lull you into a false sense of security," she said sharply, as if worrying that his mind had indeed made it back intact from Mikhail's care.
"Security is something I don't think I will ever feel again. Not really," Mulder said bitterly. He looked around the camp. "Where is everyone? Shouldn't they be up by now?"
"The Gunmen came out for some food a bit ago, but are officially protesting Alex's departure and won't come out again for three hours."
At Mulder's confused look, she shrugged. "I don't know why three hours, Mulder, I just repeat the odd things they say."
"And your mother? Antonio?"
At the mention of Antonio's name she raised a brow and stared at him until he had felt as if he had cursed loud and long in front of her and an entire cathedral of the devout. She cleared her throat when she felt he had been sufficiently stared down and said, "My mother said she wanted to go for a walk and Antonio went with her. The coward."
Mulder nodded, not at all unhappy that Antonio was on the outs for the moment. Scully was fully focussed on their joint mission. A niggling guilt informed him that *their* mission was certainly *his* mission, just as nearly every mission he had ever dragged her into had been. And yet her outfit suggested that she was ready to go traipsing through heavy brush and take on the Consortium, if the Desert Eagle .50 Magnum at her side could be considered any indication.
At his nod toward the black, deadly looking weapon she half smiled. "Frohike is, among other things now, an assassin in training, or something like that. He wanted me to have a weapon."
"He didn't get me one," Mulder objected, his eyes flickering to the silent tent that housed the protesting Gunmen.
"Yes, well I did ask about that, but he said that you had...never mind," she ended abruptly. "Let's go to your tent-look through yours and Krycek's things for the med-"
"What did I have?" Mulder pressed. He placed one hand on her narrow shoulder staring intently into her eyes.
"Mulder, it doesn't matter. Are we going-"
"What, Scully?"
Scully sighed. "Fine. He said you had Krycek and that was weapon enough."
Mulder looked away and Scully was horrified to see the look of naked anguish that passed over his features. His lips tightened with determination and he released her shoulder. "Let's go get those medallions and go find out where Alex is-or, barring that, find Baku and get some damn answers."
She hurried after him, her little legs having to double his pace in order to keep up, but she didn't ask him to slow his pace. What use would that be? Mulder never slowed his pace, he plunged headlong into things. Of course, now all of them were headlong-at least her partner and she were used to it.
Finding the medallions proved simple as Alex had kept them close to him, in a small bag in which he kept a change of underwear and socks. Mulder's throat moved reflexively as he touched Alex's things.
"We'll get him back, Mulder," Scully promised. "And you *won't* have to go off with that wolf either. What could Skinner be thinking to say such a thing?"
She was shaking her head as Mulder placed one of the two medallions around her neck. "He was thinking to assuage me and Alex-"
"Assuage his guilt more likely," she sneered.
"No doubt," Mulder agreed. He put on the second medallion and the two were silent for a moment. "I thought I would maybe feel different-maybe become invisible," Mulder drawled.
Scully shrugged. "Well, either they work or they're just another smoke and mirror routine, which is my personal bet-"
"Dana Scully, skeptic to the bitter end," Mulder chuckled.
She gave him a look and continued. "You would think super wonder twin power necklaces would have some *other* quality-some pizzazz wouldn't you?"
He raised the tent flap for her and gave her what he hoped was a stern look.
"It is irrelevant anyway as we are going to go charging out into the badlands with one gun and-well that's it. If the medallions work it would be one chalk up for us. We are due one."
He ended up following her from the camp, her determined stride leading south and they walked for several minutes before conferring again on the possible location of Baku.
Skinner watched them go, knew what they were about and sensed that Baku had left in the night. He wouldn't stop the two from their search though, perhaps them being alone, together as a team again might give Mulder some purpose, some way to get through the next few days of waiting for Garren's decision. Guilt plagued him but even more so because he knew he would have Mulder again, as often as possible before he would cross the bridge of giving him up. He had already informed Antonio that he was to take the rest of the group on to San Francisco that afternoon and wait for him there.
Of course that would mean Scully and Mulder only had a few hours of togetherness, but it was all he could give them. He tried to rationalize the taking of Scully, the second most important person to Mulder, from him so soon as Antonio was not staying San Francisco after they arrived, but had planned to leave immediately for South America and most certainly the Scully's would go with him. So, Mulder would have lost her anyway.
The rationalization did not make him feel better, but he did not dwell on it. Things were in motion now. One of his brothers had been taken, his zone overrun and destroyed. Others were fighting and doing well, but he would not risk it. Giving up Mulder had not been his original intention. He had simply planned on weathering the storm of Mulder's fury and then hoping Garren tired of Alex soon-though he had no real hope of that-and then settling down with Mulder, if not with both Mulder and Krycek, for the rest of their lives.
Antonio and Maggie walked in from the east and Maggie gave Skinner a tired, sad smile and asked him if he were at all hungry. Without waiting for an answer she bean to arrange things for a meal for them all. The Gunmen sent out Langly to fetch them food when it was done and neither Skinner nor Antonio commented on their rebellion. They would have to come out in a few hours for the trip anyway.
"What if the Gunmen want to come to South America with me, Skinner?" Antonio asked as he sat alongside Skinner at a foldout table.
"No. Mulder needs them-if he stays with me," Skinner mumbled.
Antonio simply raised his brows, but said nothing in response to that insanity-Mulder having a choice in anything. Skinner was certainly not in the mood to hear that he treated his chattel too well.
***
Salmon Falls, CA
West of Santa Rosa
Day Twenty
Hour 0800Garren frowned at Alex, a dark ferocious glare that didn't phase the young man at all. "Alex, you will eat and that is the end of it," he repeated for the third time. "I told you, you would see Fox today, there is no need to protest in this way."
Alex glared back at him. "I am *not* protesting anything as I have said to you two times. That would indicate that I thought I could effect the outcome of this situation-that maybe I thought you and Skinner both would just leave Fox and I alone. I am just not hungry. I don't have to eat as much as some people do." This was directed at Akael who had happily eaten several platefuls of fire heated beans and corned beef hash. "And this isn't my meal of choice."
"Nor is it ours," Garren growled as he stood, pacing about the fire in the middle of the little clearing he claimed. "You'll eat," he assured Alex and was furious when Alex flipped up his middle finger at him. He grabbed Alex up and shook him a bit. "You forget that I am not adverse to punishing you, Alex," he threatened. To show he meant it, Garren reached behind Alex and slapped his rear with a wide, strong hand.
Green eyes blazed at him, but there was no show of remorse or any intention of obeying. Garren made Alex sit and placed a plate on his lap, determined not to lose his temper. The pack members still allowed nearby grew restless and anxious at Garren's displeasure, unsure as to what to do. When the human mate flung the plate of beans and hash into Garren's face, they wanted to retaliate, to kill, but of course, they would do nothing of the sort.
Akael chuckled, receiving a hot topaz glare for his troubles. He finished his plate and stretched, standing. "Mate, your little Fox and the female are coming near. Do you want to have him find you being punished as you so richly deserve?"
Alex masked his surprise so well, that Akael would not have known he had affected the pretty male at all if his smell had not changed dramatically.
Alex shrugged. "I am still not fucking hungry."
Garren raised his brow and looked to Akael. "If you don't eat, then you won't see Fox at all this day."
Alex glared at him, his eyes hot with the emotion he had denied Akael. "You bastard. I said I wasn't hungry. If you want me to eat, find something other than pork and beans, heated over a fire." At Garren's unflinching stare he gritted his teeth. "Jesus. Give me some then," he hissed, hating to give in, but unwilling to be denied the chance to see Fox.
"You won't have to eat this way forever, Cat," Garren informed him as he made another plate of the steamy, lard shiny food. "Just until the Ascendant realizes that I am not letting him take Fox from you. That we will be traveling with them. I am sure your Fox will fix you better meals than this."
The tone of Garren's voice, the way he so obviously had relegated Fox to a submissive role to Alex, grated on Alex. It was one thing for him to think of Fox that way, but quite another for someone else to assume. "I'll have you know that I cook for Fox. That if I relied on him to cook I would eat less than if you did."
Garren shrugged. He had no interest in the conversation anymore, Alex was eating. He had gotten his way. He was getting control of the situation. Soon Alex would obey prettily. He smiled at Akael, but the old wolf's face was averted, the amber glow of his eyes bright and intense. He was tracking something, Fox no doubt. He stood and left Alex sitting beside the dying fire.
"Akael, I go to speak to Skinner."
He was already ten paces away before Alex stopped him. "What? Why?"
Garren sighed. It was of no concern to Alex why. He had not even considered telling Alex where he was going. "Just eat, Alex. Wait for your Fox. Obey Akael-"
"What? Never! I won't even obey you," Alex ground out.
"Or he has my permission to-to make Fox leave."
Akael grinned again. It would have been far more normal for him to grant him permission to punish him physically, but he had been right in his estimation of his Garren's susceptibility for the lovely, changed male.
Garren made his way to the ascendants' camp only making his decision moments before he faced the two. It was one that would potentially harm his pack, something he didn't take lightly, but one that would perhaps, lead to security for Alex-and happiness too.
***
"So where do you think Baku is?" Scully asked as she and Mulder made their way through the low brush.
"I don't even know if he is still around, but I have a feeling he is."
"You and your feelings, I've learned to trust both," Scully sighed reluctantly, making Mulder smile. "If he is around, he'll want to be close."
"But not too close," Mulder observed.
"Why Baku?" When Mulder gave her a questioning look she continued, "I mean he was working in Club Lune, and not even a high position from what I could see. Why him?"
"You mean why is he the one giving the messages, following us?" At her nod Mulder shrugged. "I guess even in strange occult circles there are spies."
"So he was a spy? Spying on the Meddiggo? Pretty dangerous considering their obvious-" she paused uncomfortably, "powers."
He shrugged. "I suppose so, but maybe he had the ability to block them-keep them from finding out he was a spy."
"That he was with the Dorl," Scully added. She explained quickly what she knew of the Dorl, what she had uncovered during his time with Mikhail.
"So this group, this Dorl is the same group that Dr. Reeves was working with," Mulder mused.
"I can't think of any other answer. And if that is true, and this Baku is somehow their leader, then we *have* to talk to him. Surely he'll be able to give us some information that will be helpful." She stopped suddenly and held one hand up to quiet the question that was forming on Mulder's lips. "The birds," she whispered.
He tried to listen to any birdsong but there was none. He stiffened. "There are no birds."
"Exactly," she agreed. "They went silent."
Both agents stood tense. Sudden cessation of sound, even in this odd world, meant only one thing. A predator was approaching, one that the animals of the forest disapproved of more than they did the arrival of two humans. The hairs on Mulder's neck stood rigid. Something was watching them. This wasn't the forest of Fort Bragg, but a sparser, more lowland forest, one that held little cover in most places, but still, something was watching them.
"What is it?" Scully asked, peering to the left and then the right.
"Something Tweetie and company don't like, that's for sure," Mulder whispered, the intense feeling of being watched increased and he had the insane urge to run, to grab Scully by the arm and run.
***
Salmon Falls, CA
West of Santa Rosa
Day Twenty
Hour 0830"We are not going to accomplish anything in here," Langly complained for the third time. "No one cares if we are upset. Skinner doesn't care if Mulder is pissed about Alex, so why would he care if we were?"
Frohike looked at the back wall of the tent and brooded.
"Langly's right," Byers finally said. "We need to take action."
Frohike smiled darkly. "Yeah! We strike now, go get Alex and-"
"No, Melvin," Byers corrected, "we sneak out the back way-so no one knows what we're up to. We go get Mulder and the four of us go find Alex-maybe even the strange old man who started this."
"Baku," Langly whispered. "That is what his name is. I heard it when I went to tell Skinner that he was here to speak to him. You know when we thought Krycek was beating on Mulder."
"I never thought that," Frohike asserted. "Krycek wouldn't really hurt him." He had of course, been the one to tell the other two men that Krycek might have lost it and tried to hurt Mulder, based on his viewing of the assassin at the river's edge with Mulder. But, neither Byers nor Langly felt like reminding him of that.
"We can go out the back of the tent-cut our way out and then go to Mulder's tent and spring him."
"He isn't a prisoner," Langly sighed.
"We all are," Byers insisted.
"No, he and Scully left a bit ago. I heard them go by," Langly insisted.
Byers sighed. "So why didn't you tell us?"
"We were on strike."
Frohike looked through his bag of weapons and handed Byers a gun. ".357 Magnum. It'll knock down a charging grizzly. It'll stop anything. Take it."
Byers took the gun and checked it out with expert attention. His smooth motions and precise handling startled his two friends. He shrugged almost embarrassed. "I know guns a little. Don't like what some people do with them, but I know them."
"What d'ya have for me?" Langly asked. He leaned over the bag and peered inside curiously.
"Nothing. I gave Scully the only other spare I have the first day on this little trek," Frohike said apologetically as he strapped on his two ladies.
"Well, give me one of those," Langly pointed to the two guns strapped to Frohike's chest.
Frohike looked aghast. "No! These two are a team. We'll just have to rely on you to do the springing." He handed Langly a hunting knife and Langly took it with a whistle.
"Okay, I can hang with this. Rambo."
Frohike grinned. " Get cutting."
When the three had silently slid out the slit Langly had made in the back of the tent they immediately followed in the direction Langly had thought he heard Scully and Mulder take. They moved low and slow until they were certain neither Skinner nor Antonio would stop them. Byers had a feeling that Antonio was watching them leave and he flushed. He didn't want to think about what he and Antonio did two nights ago, how Antonio had made him do things he would never of thought of doing with a man. And he didn't want to think about the way he enjoyed those things, the way he had whimpered and begged toward the end of his ordeal. He was glad to be on a mission. It would help keep his mind off the feel of Antonio's hands on him, the dark gaze that was so tinged with red that he was nearly frightened.
They fell into line, single file like Indians hiding their numbers. They were silent and determined. They were heavily armed. They were ready for anything. Ten minutes later when they saw Garren coming toward them, they melted into the shrubs around them and hid. When Garren passed they reemerged onto the trail and grinning at having hidden from a werewolf of all things they continued, surely as silent as wraiths, smokelike and deadly. A few twigs snapped and branches swayed in their wake, Langly cursed when he stumbled, but they didn't consider that too much noise.
***
Garren found Skinner and Antonio waiting for him. They were solemn looking, but otherwise they seemed utterly calm. "The friends of your Fox are hiding in the forest," Garren said casually.
"We know. They cut their way out of the tent, so we wouldn't know they were looking for Alex," Antonio said softly, his melodious accent making his words seem even more relaxed than he looked.
"Looking for Alex?" Garren asked, suspicious. "Why?"
"They're his friends-sort of," Skinner growled, his tone belying the ease of his expression, "they're understandably upset with this and worried about him."
Garren grinned, his lips revealing white, perfect teeth, teeth a Hollywood hopeful would kill for. "You can't control any of your people can you?"
Antonio's dark eyes flashed and he looked to Skinner as if to say, "Do we really need this clown?"
"What is your decision, Garren?"
"I will agree to align with you." Garren could smell the tension in the two ascendants fade with his words. "I have already informed the pack of this. Murdoch is our enemy." He didn't reveal to Skinner that the biggest reason by far that had compelled him to agree to this, had been his fear while holding Alex in his sleep. Fear that Murdoch might take him, take him in a place where Garren's claws and incredible strength-indeed not those of the entire pack-could save him. A place that only another ascendant could call one back from "I will help you and your brothers, but I have conditions."
Skinner felt a weight ease from his shoulders but he showed nothing on his face. "Name them."
"You will promise not to keep Fox from Alex."
"Done."
"You will not interfere *ever* between me and my mate. *Ever* To do so is to question my right to him, and that I, nor my pack, will tolerate."
"If you don't hurt him-"
"Ever, Ascendant, means ever. I will never hurt Alex, unless he needs to be punished. Though I owe you no explanation, I will say that Alex is safer with me than anywhere else on this earth."
"Fine, what else?"
"Nothing. I need nothing from you, Ascendant. You are the one who needs me." Garren grinned at the disgruntled looks on the ascendants' faces. They were born to rule the world but hadn't figured out how to do it. They were struggling with their powers as any child might struggle to learn to ride a bike, or to walk and they didn't even know of the struggle. "I would ask that I be able to take Fox to Alex now, but Fox is already on his way to my mate."
"Yes, I know," Skinner sighed.
Garren saw the same bewildered look in Skinner's eyes as he felt in himself. They were both powerful, Garren more used to his power, but both were letting weak humans call some of the shots. They were pathetic. He was glowering before he knew it and with a growl he turned away. "We both need to get control of our mates."
Skinner's laugh made Garren turn his head back to the big man. "Yes, but how in the hell do we do that?"
Garren glowered and because he had no answer, he remained silent. "What plans do you have against Murdoch," he ground out to change the subject of contrary, beautiful, changed males.
***
McClellan Air Force Base
Sacramento, CA
Day Twenty
Hour 2030Three stood at the back side of the room, watching. Four was still looking at his toe, watching it with what Three would call intense concern. One was looking at books that none of them could read yet and Two was having his hair stroked by one of the White Coats. Though Three was unsure as to what exactly he was, he knew that he and the others, Two, Four and One, were different from the White Coats. Too, he knew more than he was letting on. Though he had refused to speak, except to Four when he had made his toe leak, Three was comfortable with the language of the White Coats. He didn't understand why he was uncomfortable nor could he name the emotion they engendered within him, but if he could know, he would have named it mistrust, and even fear.
When Two cried out in the same tone as had Four when his toe had been injured, Three looked toward him. The White Coats had put another needle in Two making him make that sound of pain, but even more interesting was the wetness on Two's face. The word for wetness of the face came to Three. Tears. The White Coats were hurting Two, and Three didn't like it. He moved toward the huddled group and sat close behind Two, wrapping his arms about him. Physical contact had seemed to calm Four and so it was with Two.
"They feel empathy for one another," one of the White Coats said and Three just stared at her. Of course they did. Empathy, the ability to imagine how it must be for another, the cousin of sympathy. Did not all humans have the ability? Another thought made him uncomfortable. Were he and the others even human? Is that why the White Coats were so surprised, yes that was the word, when he or the others displayed human emotions and qualities?
"Hurt," Two whispered and Three held him closer.
"We have to give you shots, Sweetheart. You don't want to get sick do you? I mean you are perfect, but you are still susceptible to disease."
"Sick?" Two questioned. He knew what that word meant. So did Three. Four and One, sensing some tension from their brothers came forward, their expressions delightfully vague, almost ditzy.
"Sick as in having an illness, which may or may not destroy the body?" One asked worriedly.
"You aren't going to get sick if you get your shots, like good boys would," the female White Coat assured.
Three was fascinated with the female. Was she the mother? Her face was strangely lined and her hair more white than black, but he knew there had to be a mother. Her voice was different too. Softer than the males. She was smaller than most, but he had felt her grip, she was not weak.
As if thinking the same thing about her maternity, Four asked, "Are you the mother?"
She looked strange then, and Three could not name her expression. Her eyes widened, as did her mouth. She looked to her fellow White Coats and then back at the four of them, all wearing different shades of the same vacant look.
"Why no, no sweetie, I am not your mother. You don't have a mother. Only a donor."
Four looked to Two and One looked to Three. They were not sure of the response. They waited until Three nodded before Four and One went back to their previous occupations. Three stayed with Two until the White Coat who was not their mother placed her hand on Three's arm.
"Two has to go with Doctors Roberts and Shenk now. He is going to learn to shower. Let go of him, Three. It is your turn for a shot."
Three let Two go and he followed the two male White Coats from the room, his expression no longer vacant but relaxed. Three did not want a shot. He knew they hurt. He had had two already. He almost prevented her from giving him one, but the threat of "sick" stopped him. Sick was scarier then shots. He didn't cry out as had Two when the needle pierced his flesh, but he didn't like it.
The White Coats smiled at him, two males led him to the shower area as well. They asked him why he wouldn't talk like his brothers, but he just stared at them blankly. He knew Two and Four were not truly uncomfortable with the White Coats, but he had seen One considering them strangely. One and he had shared several looks of concern.
He could not explain why, he had no reason to wonder about the White Coats, but they smelled different, they were not the same as the others. He let himself be taught to shower and he had to admit that the feeling of their hands on him felt good. Especially when one had taken his penis in his hand and stroked it slowly, gently with soap and water. Three had almost spoken then, in surprise when his penis grew. The pleasure combined with the strange sight of his deformity nearly made him break his determination not to speak.
"God, they're so pretty," the White Coat who stroked him whispered to his fellow, staring into Three's pale, hazel eyes. The kaleidoscopic melange of green, blue, and brown almost hypnotizing the man. "Aren't they?"
"Yes, but we better watch it. The old man has guards posted. He's their father for God's sake!"
Three's attention was diverted from the pleasure in his penis when he heard those words. Father? Old man?
"But, they smell so good. Look how he is watching me? He doesn't know what I'm even doing, but he likes it." His words were proved when Three gave a small moan and moved into the man's eager hand.
"Jesus, of course he likes it," the second White Coat hissed, "but you aren't supposed to do it."
Three noted that after that exchange the pleasure ended and the hand was removed. His shower lesson was pleasant after that but the White Coat's hand did not return to its pleasurable exercise again. Three wondered at the point of the shower, wondered why it was necessary to learn such a task. It seemed a waste of time to him.
Later, Three and the others were taught how to dress themselves, what type of clothes suited what type of weather. Again, Three wondered at the usefulness of such things. One strenuously objected to wearing clothes. He repeatedly removed the articles put on him and Three watched with curious fascination as One's mouth kept moving oddly. The lower lip grew bigger it seemed, especially when one of the White Coats would insist he put back on his shirt. Three didn't mind the clothing too much, neither did Four or Two, but One would not cooperate. Finally, he was left alone, allowed to remain in only a loose robe, to which he did not object.
Three knew that the White Coats did not know how much data he had inside his mind, nor did he think the others knew. Somehow, someway, he was different from the others. That was not something he wanted. He was only comfortable with the others and did not want to be different from them. But, they were all different from one another in small ways, so he supposed this difference was not so great.
When it was time for the lights to go out, he found he wasn't so different from his brothers as he thought. They all pulled covers from their assigned beds and made a large place to sleep. Curling together, nervous about the sensations they were all experiencing, this dulling of senses, they all fell into their first sleep.
***
Salmon Falls, CA
West of Santa Rosa
Day Twenty
Hour 0830Alex waited until Garren was long gone before standing and finishing dressing. He had eaten all he would. All he wanted now was to not look like some cheap harlot when he saw Fox. He knew his lips were swollen, not from Garren's kisses alone, but from the delicious slide of Garren's erection. He flushed anew as the memory of his own hunger assaulted him.
He had a name for it now, but what good did knowing that he was infected with some sort of spore do him? Infected or not, he still acted like some eager bitch. Was there a cure for it? Now, that would be interesting. And the one person who could perhaps find such a thing, if it even existed, was Mulder. He spared Akael a glance, startled anew at the seemingly relaxed nature of this creature. Though Garren was entirely different from the other wolves Alex had seen, more controlled, this wolf was even more so.
"What do you think you are doing anyway? I don't need a shadow."
Akael just stared at him a small smile on his lips.
It was infuriating for Alex. He had grown used to his own threat, had gotten so used to being deadly that he hadn't even noticed it anymore. That Mulder had never guessed Alex's dangerousness had been a credit to Alex's acting ability. Now, this man-this *thing*-was looking at him like an amusing child. Amber eyes glowed and no ire rested there. He wanted to pick up something and throw it at the big man, just to see if that smile could be wiped away.
"You think I need or want a protector? Well, you're wrong!"
Akael stood then. "Are you getting ready to go look for the little Fox?"
"Go to Hell. If you want to know what I am going to do, then you figure it out," Alex growled. He put on his boots, laced them tight and stood. "You're wasting your time you know."
"How's that?" Akael asked smoothly.
"I'm not going to be Garren's mate for long, so you might as well get used to not shadowing me."
Akael nodded solemnly. "I see."
"You don't believe me? Fine. But, I am wasting my time." He turned and after a moment's consideration he went east.
"Fox is no longer coming straight to us, Alex, he is more in a northerly direction," Akael supplied helpfully. "Garren passed he and the little female not so many minutes ago.
Alex didn't appear to hear the advice though he switched directions and headed north. He needed to see Fox, to tell him that Garren had infected him, had *made* him want him. He knew it would change nothing, but maybe Fox would understand.
***
McClellan Air Force Base
Sacramento, CA
Day Twenty-One
Hour 0530Spender gave the two operatives their final orders. They were to infiltrate Skinner's little, merry band and get a message to Krycek. Once that was done they were to help set up the retrieval. Spender had no doubts whatsoever that Alex would come to him. Perhaps not to heel as he had been trained so well to do, but come nonetheless. From observation satellites Spender had been able to easily track Skinner's group and could even see the print on whatever book Scully's placid mother was reading at any given time.
Though the United States government ceased to exist, its little toys were still at the ready. Most interesting to the remnants of The Consortium were the spy satellites, the so-called space observation points. Satellites that could reposition themselves and hone in on any given location and see a mosquito land on a baby's palm. The alien technology had no trouble interfacing with the technology of man, for it was essentially the same. One the child of the other. The technological revolution was nothing but the bastard offspring of compliance with the aliens, rewards as it were for illicit coupling.
The spy satellites, fully armed and deadly, were positioned around the globe with utility descriptions as innocuous as geographical study, used by geologists in their quest to better understand Earth. Of course these satellites did function in many benign uses and those who used them had no true idea of what they were capable. From his vantage point in the main relay room, surrounded by dozens of high resolution monitors and technical equipment straight from a paranoid movie of Big Brother, Spender could even see what Murdoch was doing. The sights that greeted him were unsettling, even to one such as he.
Tapping into the defense computers, after operatives had infiltrated several U.S. defense bunkers and had physically set the power parameters to the non-effected alien power source, had been simple, they had always had access to the satellites even if Uncle Sam was turning a blind eye to it. The operatives were still waiting for him to dismiss them, having already been shown all the various actors in their upcoming production. They were trained killers, excellent deep cover operatives and yet they seemed nervous.
Spender forgave them their weakness.
It was quite unsettling to see the creatures that now roamed, and even more so to know that they would be in the midst of them. Skinner, they were told, would not be easily fooled. It was for this reason that these particular operatives were chosen. Not only were they efficient, a nice pseudonym for being extremely good at killing, but they looked as innocent as any Iowa farmer. Open faces, free from lines of worry or strife, soft smiles and even softer voices. He was pleased with the choice.
He dismissed them and they didn't hesitate to go. They would succeed or they would be killed by Skinner or those man things that changed into wolves, back and forth sometimes, like ripples on water. Intelligence had supplied that the wolves were afraid of Skinner, too afraid to stay changed for long. It worked well for Spender that that was so. His operatives would stay clear of the man/wolves things anyway. Just to be on the safe side.
Other precautions had been taken as well. Neither operative knew why the message to Krycek was being delivered. Neither knew anything of the clones and so could not be forced to talk. Nor could their thoughts be plucked from their minds as easily as might have been. They had been told only to repress any thoughts save for the false background they had been drilled with. Alien technology had even helped them there. With the correct use of light, drugs and repetition, the operatives were close to believing their own cover.
Spender was pleased. Very pleased. Soon Alex would be with him again. With the help of the little clone, Alex would soften toward Spender and they would be together. Sweet, deadly Alex. He shivered. Of course with the acquisition of the true Fox Mulder as a benefit, he would be forgiven all. Bill Mulder would most likely give the delicious, troublesome agent to Murdoch. The Consortium would be held in high esteem by that powerful, if frightening man. Yes, all was proceeding well. This was going to be a wonderful, exciting world.
End of The Clones
End of The Alliance