Rating: NC-17 for graphic violence and nonconsensual sexual activity
WARNING: The noncon sex is pretty mild, but there's a lot of blood
here. Be prepared. No one you give a damn about dies, though.
What am I, Chris Carter?
Keywords: M/K, K/O (noncon), M/O (noncon)
Disclaimer: Sigh...not mine.
Summary: Mulder and Krycek each face their own hell.
I woke up strapped down to a bed in four-point restraints with the taste
of vodka, vomit, and blood in my mouth. The light was bright to the
point of pain, and my eyes squinted, trying in vain to adjust to the point
where I could see. I blinked, seeing nothing but white, and made myself
breathe slowly and deeply so as not to panic. The room finally came
into some focus and I squinted and turned my head to the side to get my bearings.
It was a large, empty white room. I appeared to be the only thing in
it. Me and this bed and that fucking light right over it. I tested
the strength of my bonds one at a time and determined that they were unfailingly
tight and securely buckled and locked. I felt my heart begin to pound as
the panic started washing over me, and I closed my eyes and pretended that
I had chosen this position and could move at any time. I just didn't
want to. It was a trick I'd learned during my first stays in the psych
ward as a kid.
My first trip to the loony bin had been at age 13 for telephone fraud.
I was quite proud of that one. I'd figured out how to rig the pay phone
at our favorite convenience store so that you could make free calls.
The cops and phone company didn't see it as quite the wonderful gift that
my friends did, so I was taken to juvy hall. While there, I was given
a battery of tests, and lo and behold, it was determined that little Alex
had psychological problems.
Well no fucking shit. You would too, if you had the father I did. They
took me away to the adolescent psychiatric hospital, and I thought my dad
was gonna shit a brick when they told him it would cost over a thousand dollars
a day to keep me there. I decided it was gonna take me a long, long
time to get better.
That first time was the best time, really. It only took a few weeks
to learn a whole shitload of new tricks. I practically burned the fucking
place down trying to make LSD with orange peels in my room. But right
now, I was trying to remember a trick I'd never been able to master but had
seen performed countless times.
Jack Ankerman could get out of four-point restraints and start masturbating
within ten minutes of being put in the quiet room. He was the only one who
could do it, and when you asked him how, he just gave you that same crazy
look he gave you all the time. Now that guy was a fuckin' fruitcake.
He was in there for cracking a guy's skull open on a sidewalk. I guess he
got him down and just smashed his face into the cement over and over and
over until someone called the police and they hauled him off. I don't
know if the guy he attacked lived or died, and I don't know why he did it.
Jack just gave you that look when you asked him. He was fifteen and
claimed to be a Satanist. Personally, I don't think he had enough brains
to be a Satanist, but it's true that he got away with a hell of a lot more
shit than anyone else on the unit, so maybe he had some kinda dark mojo after
all.
They'd call a 'Dr. Armstrong' and we'd all look around to see who was missing
from the ranks. About half the time it was Jack. The whole staff
would have to help them get him to the room and restrained, and they'd come
out splattered with spit and sometimes urine. Then about ten minutes
would pass, and you'd see a flurry of activity as the nurse hurried in with
a loaded hypo. Jack was out of the restraints and painting the walls
with his cum again.
We were all scared shitless of Jack, but you had to admire the guy.
I'd been in those restraints myself over a dozen times, and I hadn't gotten
free even once. Never mind jacking off on the walls.
Okay. So Jack could do it. He did it every time they put him
in there. I think he did it so they'd shoot him up. They couldn't
shoot him up unless he got free of the restraints. There was procedure to
be followed. Protocol. So Jack would get restrained, then he'd
get free, then he'd get off, and finally he'd get sedated. They'd go in there
and find the restraints still buckled and locked, but Jack had gotten completely
free. He was a big guy, too. Big for his age. It wasn't
like he was so skinny he worked his way free. He was about 200 lbs.
at age fifteen. I closed my eyes tight and tried to channel his spirit,
making my mind blank and calm. Hell, what else did I have to do?
I was still concentrating intently when I heard the door quietly open.
I jerked my head up, trying to see. A man in a white coat was walking
toward me, tapping the side of a syringe. I began to struggle, all
the while knowing it was useless and would only escalate my panic.
The doctor ignored me and came to stand by my bedside.
"What the fuck is that?"
The doctor lowered the needle to my arm and I willed myself not to scream
as he pushed it in and depressed the plunger. Whatever it was, burned through
my veins, tracing its course through my circulatory system in a trail of
fire.
"Jesus! Fuck! What did you give me?" To my surprise, the
doctor actually made eye contact. He sighed and frowned.
"Mr. Cardinale is late for his appointment with you, but he just called ahead
and asked us to administer some Taganol."
He said it like I'd know what he was talking about. I searched my brain
frantically but nothing came to mind. "Taganol?"
Shockingly, the doctor continued to speak to me.
"Experimental, Mr. Krycek. Heightens sensation, actually. Would make
a wonderful aphrodisiac if pleasure were the expected stimuli," he said absently,
slipping the used needle into a sharps bag. He didn't have to tell
me what stimuli I could expect. He'd told me this was Cardinale's idea
and that was enough for me. I closed my eyes and prayed the vodka would
counteract some of the drug's effect. I heard the doctor leave the
room and close the door behind him. I closed my eyes and tried to get
back to my calm, meditative, Jack-channeling place, but the panic was taking
over, and I soon began struggling against my bonds.
Fuck! It suddenly felt as if the restraints were lined in rough sandpaper,
scraping my skin raw with every small move. And I realized that the
wound in my side, which still hadn't been paid any attention even though
it was staining the sheets red, was beginning to throb with an agony that
stole my breath.
The fucking drug was working. My head began to feel as if it might
explode, the added vodka hangover just what I didn't need, and my bruised
stomach and ribs, compliments of a certain young, walking-dead asshole underling,
were forcing small, labored breaths from my lungs. Breaths that were
very close to turning into sobs. The more I tried to block it out and
go away in my head, the sharper the pain would get. I tried to focus
on a pleasant sensation anywhere in my body, but could find none. I decided
I'd have to create one fast if I was going to make it through this.
I thought of Mulder. At first my heart squeezed, and I whimpered with
the pain, but then I forced myself past that into the memories I had stored
up from our precious meetings. The night I'd shown up to find the number
upside down on the door, and a futon waiting up against the wall, resplendent
with a naked Mulder accessory. We hadn't even spoken, I just tore off
my own clothes and fell on him like a hungry dog, covering his body with
little marks of possession, then nearly putting a dent in the wall as our
fucking rammed the brand-new futon's frame into it repeatedly.
A warm, wonderful tingle suffused my groin as blood began to fill my cock.
I concentrated on that with every bit of attention I could muster, pretending
the pain I was feeling was part of some very rough S and M play. The
restraints didn't feel quite so bad now, and the throb in my side was the
only pain really rivaling the throb in my dick.
"Mulder..." I moaned, trying to intensify the fantasy. It worked as
I closed my eyes and imagined him standing over me, smirking and denying
me his touch. "Please, Mulder, touch me," I breathed. I could
almost see the evil twinkle in his eye as he let me struggle and squirm,
and I could almost believe that any minute he was going to wrap those hot,
plump lips around my cock and end my agony.
"Oh God...yes...Mulder..." I writhed just slightly in my bonds, not trying
to get free now but only playing the part of the restrained lover.
Just the slight friction against my jeans was quickly pushing me to the peak,
but I was afraid if I let myself come that I wouldn't have my fantasy to
blot out the pain. I needn't have worried. All thoughts of orgasm
evaporated as the door to my room banged open and a familiar figure strode
into the room.
"Krycek, you are so fucked."
Cardinale sounded inordinately pleased with his declaration, and I felt my
stomach roll as he laughed and came to stand over me. I blinked, my eyes
widening as I got a good look at him. He had blood crusted in his hair
on one side and a large purple bruise on his forehead. His jaw was
abraded and bruised from chin to ear, and I noticed his clothes were smudged
with dirt and something black.
"You don't look so good, Luis."
He glared down at me, his mouth firming into a pale line. I breathed
back my instinct to flinch away, knowing it would only make the gleam in
his eyes intensify. He bent over me closely, giving me a very good
look at all of his injuries, then his mouth stretched into a leering smile.
"You, on the other hand, *Alex*," he said huskily, "are looking very good
indeed."
I watched in horror as his hand raised up and he began to trace a line down
the middle of my chest. I couldn't decide whether the intense sensation
I was feeling was pleasure or pain, but I knew that I wanted neither at his
hands. Ignoring the pain, I began struggling against my bonds.
In fact, I concentrated on the new pain, using it to take my mind off the
finger making its way down my stomach now, toward my still rock-hard erection.
I closed my eyes against the growing excitement in the leering face over
me. I yelped as his nail scratched over the head of my cock.
I'd never felt anything as intense, and I was so close to coming I wanted
to cry.
"Liked that, did you, Alex?" he asked, leaning in and making me feel his
breath on my face. I squeezed my eyes tight and focused on the pain
in my side.
"It's a wonderful drug, that Taganol, isn't it?" he continued, tapping his
fingers on my aching shaft as if drumming on a table top. "I'll bet
you thought I was going to hurt you, didn't you, Alex?" he asked, brushing
his lips against mine. I hoped he was enjoying the smell of blood and
vomit.
"And I will," he assured me, drawing back, evidently deciding I didn't really
taste that appealing after all. "But first, I think I'll see just how
much fun you can be." With that he gave my cock a healthy squeeze,
and I screamed as I came in my pants, my body arching on the narrow table.
The pleasure was so intense it was pain, made agony by the increased friction
on my wrists and ankles as well as the stretching of the wound in my side.
My body slowly relaxed down onto the thin mattress, trembling fiercely.
Cardinale laughed breathlessly.
"Good show, Alex," he sneered. "How long do you think before you might
be able to do that again?"
I couldn't help but whimper at the thought of him touching my just-orgasmed
cock, fearing the intensified sensation might make me scream.
"What's the matter, Alex? You don't want my love?"
I waited, eyes closed, but nothing happened. Finally, I had to see
what he was doing. I couldn't feel his hands anywhere on me, and I
was afraid that the shock of his touch in an unexpected place might make
me scream again. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
I opened my eyes to see his hand hovering over my still-hard, sticky crotch,
his eyes wide and expectant.
"Pleasure or pain?" he asked calmly. I ground my teeth together, and
even that sent shocks of pain through my jaw. Oh God. How could I give
him an answer? What would he do if I didn't? I got part of my
answer as he withdrew a blade from his pocket. He brought it to my chest
and lowered the point to just below the hollow in my throat. I was
cold and shaking voilently now and hating myself for it.
"Choose, Alex, or I'll play my own games."
I closed my eyes and wondered how much shame I could endure before I did
something to get myself killed. Then I realized he'd never kill me,
just bring me so close I'd wish he could.
"P-pleasure," I rasped out.
"What was that?" He leaned in, putting his ear next to my lips.
I swallowed. "Pleasure."
"Ahhhhh Alex," he sighed. "You want me as much as I want you. How nice."
I felt the knife leave my throat and couldn't stop the quiet sigh of relief.
Then I felt his hand sliding down my abdomen, and my whole body tensed.
"I heard you, Alex," he practically purred. I ignored him, trying
to ready myself for the nauseating touch I knew was coming.
"Moaning for your lover," he mocked. "It seemed to make things much
easier for you." I said nothing, eyes open and staring at a point just
beyond his head.
"Do you know that I have permanent nerve damage in this arm?" he said, suddenly
changing the subject. I averted my gaze, but he moved his face in front
of mine, forcing me to look at him. His brown eyes flashed with rage, and
I swallowed hard.
"See the scar?" he said, taking his hand away from my body and pushing his
sleeve up. There was a thick pink ridge in the center of his arm on
both the back and the front. I almost let my lips twitch in a smile,
remembering how he'd gotten that. But I'm not that stupid.
"It's amazing how many nerve endings are in that part of the arm," he said
in a conversational tone, arranging his sleeve back down over his arm.
Then he placed his fingernail against the inside of my arm just above the
restraints, and my body went rigid.
"I'm not allowed to do anything that will cause permanent damage," he gritted
out, obviously very put out by his orders. "But with this wonderful pharmaceutical,
I can make it feel damned close." He dug his nail in and raked it up
the inside of my arm. I could have sworn he was laying it open, the
pain burning white hot all the way up to my shoulder, bringing tears to my
eyes and a scream to my throat. He laughed again and rested his hand
on my stomach, waiting for me to stop hyperventilating.
"Need something to take your mind off that?" he asked, beginnging to move
his hand in circles. In spite of myself, I felt my cock twitching in
my cold, sticky pants, and I was almost grateful for the distraction, just
as he'd said. I didn't say anything, but I admit I started praying
he'd jerk me off again so I could get away from the searing pain in my arm,
if only for a moment.
His hand moved down over my erection and gave it a rough squeeze, and I gasped,
my eyes flying open as my hips traitorously raised up to meet his touch.
He chuckled and stroked his hand up and down the length of my cock through
my jeans. I whimpered, the sensation bringing me so quickly to the
edge again that my balls were already tight against my body. He withdrew
his hand completely, and I was thoroughly embarassed to hear myself whine.
"Awww...poor Alex. You need to come, don't you? Well, I know
what will make it easy for you." He leaned over me again, and my whole
face twisted with the effort of not begging him to get me off.
"Pretend I'm your sweet little Fox," he whispered, his face just inches from
mine. I panted my rancid breath in his face and he grimaced and pulled
back. "Say it!" he snapped, whipping the blade out and putting it to
my throat. The threat didn't mean as much now that I knew he couldn't
kill or permanently maim me. I pressed my lips together in a tight line.
His eyes narrowed as he realized his limitation, then a smile curved his
lips and I almost sobbed. This couldn't be good. He put the blade
away, then, leaving one hand resting on my thigh right next to my achingly
ready cock, he started stroking across my chest with the other one.
Down toward the wound in my side. I began to tremble and whimper as
he got closer and closer.
"Moan for your Fox, you little piece of shit," he said, his fingers tracing
around the ragged edge, the pain from just that making me flinch violently,
aggravating the wound myself.
"Muh...Mulder..." I said very quietly, feeling my gut revolt.
"Louder," Cardinale ordered. His finger started to brush over the wound
and I gasped.
"Mulder!...Oh God, Mulder!" It sounded like a sob to me, but Cardinale
was evidently pleased because he took his hand away from my side and lowered
his hand onto my cock again. His touch burned me and I felt myself
surge into his hand.
"One more time should do it, don't you think?"
I squeezed my eyes tight and pictured myself calling for his help, trying
desperately not to let myself think about how, after what I did to him, he
would probably laugh and watch the fun if he were really here.
"Mulder! Please! God! Mulder!" Cardinale rubbed briskly
through my jeans and I came again, hard and painfully, the tears streaming
down my face and running into my ears.
"Oh God that was *good*!" crowed Cardinale with a guffaw of laughter.
I heard the sound of a zipper being lowered and had just enough clarity to
know it wasn't mine.
"My turn now," said Cardinale, stepping up closer to the bed. I closed
my eyes and prayed for a blackout as I heard the sound of flesh against flesh
begin.
I was marched between the two guards, down a long white hall and into a small
room. The only thing there was a television set. There wasn't even
a chair, just four walls, hard, stark white linoleum, and a large 27-inch
screen just out of reach, bolted to the wall. They shoved me into the
room, and I narrowly avoided falling on my face as they slammed the door
behind me. It was without a handle and set flush to the walls, and
the impression was that there was no way out of the small white box.
The room was about the size of an average elevator, so I had breathing room,
but try to tell my hammering heart that. Mind over matter, Mulder,
I told myself repeatedly. You are not claustrophobic.
I palmed the walls, trying to stay calm, but jumped as I saw the set flicker
on and heard the rush of white noise fill the room. I looked up at
the set and my mouth fell open.
"Alex!"
I said it aloud as if he could hear me, but he just lay there on the table,
eyes closed, not moving. Blood dripped from the side of his small,
low hospital cot, and from the bird's eye vantage point, I could see that
it was coming from low down on his right side. The set wasn't low enough
that I could touch it, but still had to stifle my urge to reach up and try
to run my hands over the image on the screen. I could just make out
the rise and fall of his ribcage and comforted myself with evidence that
he was still alive.
Alex began to move, writhing in his restraints, then his grunts of pain filled
the room as he jerked and hissed, then finally fell still, panting hard.
I listened to his breaths echo in the empty room, and I found my own breaths
coming at a tempo to match. Then I froze as I heard his voice.
"Mulder..."
I gasped. Was that pleasure in his low rasp? It could have been
pain, or a call for help, but as he continued, that possibility seemed less
and less likely, and I felt myself get hard in spite of myself.
"Please, Mulder, touch me..."
Well, that was definitely a cry for help, but not the kind I was expecting.
My cock swelled in my jeans, and my hands tingled, wanting to be on it.
"Oh God...Yes...Mulder..." His body arched on the bed, his own erection
obvious in the stark light. My hand started moving toward my crotch
even as my eyes narrowed in shocked confusion, then it jerked back as an
all-too-familiar figure entered the room.
Oh God, no. I could see the evidence of Scully's handiwork on his face,
head, neck, shoulders and clothes, and I couldn't help but smile faintly.
It faded as I watched him put his hands on my lover's body. I could
only watch, stunned and slack-jawed, as Alex came with a scream at this man's
touch.
Then the screen went blank.
"NO!" I screamed at the television, tears scraping my throat raw. Why
did he come at Cardinale's touch? Did he think of me while that animal
touched him? God, it made me sick to think of it. I didn't want
to let myself feel disgust at having my memory being used like that, but
it was difficult as the images played over and over in my mind, Alex arching
and undulating under that fucking animal's hand. I wanted him to be
able to endure, but the nausea was overwhelming, and I sank to the floor
on my knees, my head in my hands.
When the door opened up behind me, I looked up just in time to see the two
guards enter. They grabbed me and held me in place while a syringe
was emptied into my arm. Then the white room swirled into darkness.
I woke stunned and relieved to find I was no longer restrained. I sat up
quickly, wincing at the pain in my side, grabbing it with hands that were
blessedly free. I hadn't bled to death yet, dammit. I guessed
the wound wasn't quite big or deep enough for that. Just enough to
make a hell of a mess and hurt like a son of a bitch. I did note that
my body's sensory responses seemed to be back to their normal level, the
scratch on my arm only faintly burning. My cock was a shriveled, aching
lump in my soaked jeans. I felt shame warm my face, but shook it off
and cased my surroundings.
I was in a small white room. A box, more like. And there was
something in there with me this time. A TV. I frowned and looked
up the black screen, scooting my way back up against the wall to lean against
it and recover my strength for the next round.
Then the screen flickered to life.
"Mulder!" I called out, scrambling to my feet despite my injuries.
He was lying strapped to a narrow bed, in a room just like my previous one.
There was blood all down one side of the bed, and I panicked before realizing
it was my own. That *was* my room and my bed on the screen. And
that was Mulder, in my restraints.
"You motherfuckers!" I screamed, my voice ragged from all the screaming I'd
already done. "We had a deal!" I sobbed and pounded on the walls,
smearing them with my blood. I roared uselessly as the tears streamed
hot down my cheeks.
It was all for nothing! I'd broken his trust, his heart and probably
his mind for nothing! They'd gotten him anyway! The rage I felt
was even frightening to me. My whole body shook with it, and it felt
like my heart was going to shoot out of my chest, exploding in a gory mess.
I made myself rigid, reigning in the rage, trying to focus it on something
productive. My whole body stilled as I realized I now had abso-fucking-lutely
*nothing* to lose anymore. Someone would have to come for me, and when they
did, it was no holds barred. I'd rip their hearts out with my fingernails
if I had to but I was going to get to Mulder.
I stared up at the screen, my nails cutting bloody gouges into my palms.
Then I watched Cardinale walk into the room.
Mulder was still unconscious, and for that I was grateful as Cardinale stepped
up to him, lips pulled up in a leering smile.
"I'm gonna fucking kill you. I'm gonna fucking kill you. I'm
gonna fucking kill you." At first I didn't realize I was saying it
out loud, and even when I did, I only gave it a moment's attention before
focusing back in on the screen, chanting my new mantra. Cardinale's hand
reached out toward Mulder's groin and I felt my body begin to shake again.
Cardinale looked up and straight into the camera, licking his lips.
I went into a white rage, jumping at the screen which was bolted to the wall
just out of my reach. I looked around frantically, but of course there
was nothing else in the room. Then I looked down and felt a maniacal
grin stretch my face.
They'd left me my boots. The stupid, arrogant fuckers had left my boots
on. I dropped down on the floor and tugged the laces free, sparing
a glance to the screenn against all better judgement. Cardinale's hand
was resting on Mulder's crotch now, and he idly stroked it while looking
into the camera. I tore my eyes away and gave all of my attention to getting
my steel- toed workboots off.
I unlaced them and yanked them off my feet, then tied them both together
with a little over a foot of lacing in between them. They made a very clumsy,
but very heavy set of nunchuks. I felt my lip curl up in a grimace,
imagining the wet crunching sound of Cardinale's skull caving as I bludgeoned
him with them. I took a good grip on the middle of the laces and looked
one last time up at the screen. Cardinale was squeezing Mulder's growing
erection, and as I watched, horrified, Mulder began to moan and come awake.
I swung the boots with every bit of enraged strength I could gather, breaking
the casing on the side of the set. I ignored the sounds of Cardinale
laughing and Mulder's protests as I swung again and again, beating in the
side of the set, until finally with an impressive show of sparks, the damned
thing went black. I continued to swing and swing, letting my rage turn
me into a weapon of destruction as the set fell in pieces at my feet.
Pieces. Sharp, broken pieces. I stopped swinging the boots and
panted, looking down at all the new weapons I'd just created. Wires
to be used for strangling. Shards to be used for cutting and stabbing.
Then there was always my improv nunchuks for bludgeoning. I began gathering
up my arsenal and securing it on my body.
I figured it wouldn't be long now. They had to know that their set
was malfunctioning. There might have even been a camera in the set.
There was nowhere else for one to be hidden, so that was the most likely
place they would have put it. So they'd likely seen the beginning of
my rampage and were probably sending people down right now. I hurriedly
tucked things in every place I could think of, noting the possible uses of
each as I did.
When I'd gotten everything I could possibly need from the debris at my feet,
I sealed my ear to the door, listening.
Footsteps. Rapid but not running, and it didn't sound like there were
more than two. Hardly a challenge at all, given my advantage of berserker
rage and surprise. I grinned and stepped away from the door.
I didn't know what side it would open on, because there was no handle, so
I stepped far enough back that I'd be ready for them no matter what side
they appeared on.
My body was a strung bow, my pain forgotten, every molecule focused on murder.
The door pushed open and I felt giddy with excitement, but waited until the
guard had come almost all the way in. Then I struck.
I lunged forward, a long shard of plastic held in one hand, boots in the
other, and drove my makeshift dagger into his throat on the first try.
He staggered back into his partner and fell to the floor, very conveniently
lodging the door open with his body. It was almost too easy.
I grabbed the gun from his twitching arms and first blew the brains out of
his partner's head, then pointed the muzzle down and splattered his face,
wiping the blood out of my eyes with my free hand.
I was pretty familiar with Base Three. Moreso than I was supposed to
be, due to the maps on the DAT. I was pretty sure I knew where Mulder
was being held. I swiped again through the blood on my face, wiping
my hands on my pants as I stepped over the bodies and headed for the ward.
It wasn't far away. Not far away at all. In fact, Cardinale had
probably heard the short round of shots being fired as I took out my captors.
I grinned, feeling very joyful about the fact that they'd placed the 'observation
room' just a few doors down from the 'interrogation room.' I didn't
even encounter any resistance as I ran down the white hall and slammed my
way in.
Cardinale had Mulder's pants open and he looked up, frozen, Mulder's dick
gripped in his hand.
"Take. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off. Him." I didn't yell it, but even
I could feel the barely controlled murderous energy behind my hoarse, grating
voice. Cardinale let go of Mulder with a gasp and started backing up against
the wall.
"Alex! Oh my God! You're...you're alive!"
I couldn't spare Mulder a glance as much as I wanted to. I knew we
only had a matter of minutes before they found us, and I wasn't through with
Cardinale. I stepped over to the cot and started pulling at Mulder's
bonds, but they were padlocked shut.
"Put that fucking knife on the floor and kick it over here, you piece of
shit," I growled. Cardinale reached into his pocket, and I could tell
he was considering throwing it instead. I leveled the muzzle right
at his left eye. His hand was shaking as he dropped the knife and gave
it a kick. I stopped it with my foot, then pushed Mulder's cot aside
so I wouldn't lose sight of Carndinale as I bent to retrieve it.
Mulder was talking to me, but I couldn't hear him over the blood rushing
in my ears. I carefully picked up the knife off the floor and stepped
over to Mulder. I had to look at him for small snatches as I cut his
right wrist free of the thick strap. I looked from him to Cardinale
and back as the sharp little blade sawed through the leather. Finally,
I felt the strap give, and Mulder pulled his arm free with a loud breath.
I put the knife in his hand and turned my attention back to Cardinale.
"Get up against the door." I figured he'd make a good blockade for
when they decided to come through, then at least enough of a speed bump to
give me time to shoot whomever was coming in. I checked the rounds left in
the gun and found I had plenty enough to take out about a half dozen guys.
But we needed to get moving before they could muster up more.
"You free?" I said tersely.
"Yeah," Mulder answered, swinging his legs over the side of the cot and standing
up. I glanced over long enough to see that his pants were fastened.
The only blood on him appeared to be mine. I reached into my pocket
and pulled out the length of wire from the television. "Tie his hands
behind his back." He took the wire and started toward Cardinale.
"Tight," I added, remembering the sharp sting of piano wire slicing into
my wrists.
"Turn around," Mulder ordered, and Cardinale faced the wall. Mulder quickly
bound his wrists, and Cardinale gasped as he pulled the wires tight.
I heard multiple boots pounding on the linoleum outside.
"Okay. Here's what we do. We're damned close to the elevator."
Mulder nodded.
"We just have to get past the ones they send out first, and that shouldn't
be more than four. They always underestimate me." I smiled.
Mulder spun Cardinale away from the wall, stepping in behind him, holding
him by the upper arms. I went over and grabbed him away, shoving him
in front of me.
"Luis, you will be going first. Mulder, you stay behind me. Either
they'll avoid shooting because of Cardinale, or he'll act as a temporary
shield. Either way I should have time enough to shoot at least two
of them while you run down the hall. I'll cover you and join you as
soon as I can get 'em off our ass."
"I'm not leaving without you."
I turned, confusion in my eyes.
"I know everything, Alex. I know you did it to save me. I know
it was all a lie."
I felt the rage draining as relief and joy took its place, but I shook myself
free of the pleasant wave and focused on my anger instead.
"I'm glad, Mulder. Now go. I'll be right behind you. Just
get to the elevator and press the '3'. My car's just outside the elevator
on the third floor."
"I know. I'm not closing the doors till you're in there with me, though."
"Dammit, Mulder, they're here! We have to go! Just do as I say!
I'll be right behind you! Just wait for me when you get there!"
We didn't have any more time to argue as the door burst open and men began
to push their way into the room. I fired, and blood and brains sprayed
over the white walls and floor as I took out the first one. I felt
the impact as bullets sank into Cardinale's body and then felt one as it
zinged through him and into my leg. I used the pain as a focal point
and plowed into the next man, cutting him down as Cardinale slumped to the
floor in front me, heavy and useless.
I was more pissed about losing my chance to torture him than I was about
losing my human shield, but I leaned over and threw the downed guard's weapon
behind me to Mulder as I fired from a crouch, taking out the knees of one
very surprised thug. He fell down as if he'd forgotten to say his prayers,
his gun falling forward from his outstretched hands like an offering.
I took it, and now I had a gun in each hand. I felt the rush for a
only a moment before I felt the cold, hard tip of an automatic rifle shove
into the side of my throat.
"Get up, Krycek," barked the last standing thug, jamming the muzzle into
my neck painfully. Just as I started to rise to my feet, planning to
take him out with my bare hands if need be, I watched his face explode, and
he fell back against the far wall. I stood and looked behind me, and
Mulder lowered the rifle from his shoulder.
"Let's go."
I nodded and stepped over the last body, sprinting for the elevator, sliding
in the blood in my bare feet. Mulder was right behind me and I spun
around and jammed my finger against the button over and over until the doors
finally closed. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as it began its ascent.
It went a short distance then jerked to a stop, but I was prepared for that
and stepped over to the keypad, entering the override code that I wasn't
supposed to have. The elevator whirred back to life and I thanked the
gods once again for the wonderful DAT.
I glanced over at Mulder. We weren't out of the woods yet, as there
would probably be Consortium staff waiting for us outside the elevator doors.
"Just do whatever you have to to get to my car," I told him, my voice cold
with intent to kill. He just nodded as the elevator came to a stop.
We both lifted our guns to our shoulders and waited for the doors to open.
As the heavy slabs of metal slid back, my whole body went cold.. There was
a line of at least eight men in riot gear, all of them holding weapons trained
on us. We froze, still inside the elevator, guns raised. They
weren't shooting. This was good. They must not have orders to shoot
to kill, despite our bloody escape. I knew Mulder was valuable to them
and figured his presence was keeping us alive. I glanced over to him
and he glanced back, but we didn't lower our weapons.
"Put 'em down!" yelled one of the soldiers. I looked at Mulder again,
and he gave me an imperceptible nod and began lowering his gun. He
used the allowed motion of his disamament to reach over and jab the button
on the wall, and the elevator doors slid closed, just barely in time to shut
out the wide-eyed soldiers.
"My car's on the ground level and Skinner's there," said Mulder.
"This lets out *in* the hospital, Mulder! There'll be even more soldiers
ready for us up there! There's no way we're getting out of here!"
He reached over and pressed the emergency stop button, freezing us between
floors. Yes, this gave us time to think, but I could see no way past
the line of soldiers I knew would meet us in the hospital lobby. This
time they might not be so hesitant to use their guns.
Mulder reached into the front of his pants, and my brows shot up.
"What the--"
I snapped my mouth shut as he withdrew a cell phone.
"What the--" I said again, and he smiled.
"It's yours. They got mine, but when they grabbed me, I shoved this
down my pants. I wasn't about to lose it. I didn't know if I'd
ever see you again."
I stared at him, stunned, as he punched in some numbers.
"But," I said, and he calmly lifted his finger to shush me.
"Sir it's Agent Mulder. Yes, yes, I have him, and we're all right,
but we're trapped in the elevator."
I stared at him open-mouthed.
"The lobby floor, I think. That's the button I pushed. Okay,
we'll wait here for your call. It's Alex's phone, sir. Hang on.
What's your number, Alex?"
I blinked. "Uh 555-9086."
"555-9086. Yeah, that's it. Okay, we'll be here."
He ended the call and lowered the phone.
"Mulder..."
"Hmmm?"
"You had my phone down your pants?"
"Yep."
I blinked again, then felt my face grow warm. "But, I saw you, Mulder.
On the TV. Cardinale..."
Mulder's eyes narrowed, his jaw tense. "I was lucky. He hadn't
gotten very far when you arrived. He only...touched my..."
I nodded quickly, saving us both the nausea. "Well, fuck, Mulder. Nice
going. So, now what?"
"Now we wait for the police, who will come in and neutralize the threat.
As long as they don't do anything stupid, it should go smoothly. Just
DC's finest providing an escort for an FBI agent and a dangerous suspect."
"Suspect."
"Yeah."
I looked at him and frowned.
"Skinner knows everything, Alex."
My brows arched.
"Well, not everything," he amended with a grin. "He knows we're working
together. He knows about the DAT."
"So...I'm not gonna be arrested?" I said quietly.
"You're not gonna be arrested," confirmed Mulder with a big smile.
I couldn't help but smile in return, then I became serious again.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry..." I felt my throat close, the rage gone, my
body exhausted and on the edge of physical and emotional collapse.
"Hey...I know, Alex. I know."
"So you...you know I still love you?" I squeaked, instantly embarassed at
the sound.
"Yes," he said softly, stepping closer. Just having him near me made
me feel better, made my body feel like it could go on just a little bit longer.
What he said next made me feel like I could leap tall buildings.
"And I still love you, Alex. So much. So much." He leaned
in and slid his hand up the back of my neck, pulling my face in for a kiss.
When our lips met, I found myself letting out a quiet sob against his mouth,
and it opened and he swallowed it down with a soft grunt. And suddenly
were kissing and holding each other, guns hanging at our sides, my hand smearing
blood all over his face as I held it in place, apologizing and speaking my
love silently with my lips and tongue.
We were startled by the annoying chirp of my cell phone. Mulder pulled back,
grinning. "You wanna get it? It's your phone."
I grinned back. "I'm just the suspect, though. Besides, you pulled
that out of your pants!"
He laughed and pressed the Talk button. "Mulder. Okay, we're
on our way. Thank you, sir." He ended the call and slid the phone
into his pants pocket. I opened my mouth to say something, and he gave
me warning look. I shut my mouth and looked innocent. He reached
over and reactivated the elevator.
We rode silently up to the lobby, and I could feel the tension in the air.
I trusted Mulder, certainly, and he trusted Skinner, but it was still hard
to believe we were gonna walk out of here alive without a fight.
"Oh, maybe you'd better put down your gun," said Mulder, gesturing to my
weapon. Did he know what he was asking me to do? Give up my one
chance to defend myself should there not be a *friendly* armed escort waiting
for us? I looked at him, gun held tightly in my hand.
"It's okay, Alex. If Skinner says they're there, then they are.
The police think you're a suspect, and you're covered with blood from head
to foot. You need to put down your gun and put your hands behind your
head, just until we get into the car."
I knew it was true, but I didn't like it. Not at all. It felt
like the old Mulder and Krycek, and it was damned hard for me to get rid
of the image of Mulder walking me over to the police and then smiling as
they cuffed me. I felt physically ill, and it wasn't because of my
bruised stomach and ribs, or the virtual rape I'd experienced, or even the
stab wound in my side. My body did *not* want to get into this extraordinarily
evocative position.
But I did it.
I laid my gun at Mulder's feet and straightened up, arms trembling as I laced
my fingers behind my head. I'd never felt this vulnerable, even when
Cardinale was molesting me as I struggled in restraints. Before it
was only my body in danger. This was my mind and soul.
"Hey, you okay?"
I didn't get the chance to answer as the doors slid open. Mulder stepped
in behind me quickly, nudging my back with the muzzle of his gun very gently.
I made a choking sound and stumbled forward. The lobby was full of
cops, all of them with drawn weapons, over a dozen beads on me, tracing my
steps as I shuffled through the lobby. No one came forward, and Mulder
just continued walking me through the lobby, the police officers closing
in behind us in a wave of dark blue. I struggled to breathe as Skinner
came forward, holding out a pair of cuffs.
We were still surrounded by police officers in the parking lot, and Mulder
took the cuffs and lowered my arms, very carefully fastening my wrists behind
my back. Then he led me over to the sedan Skinner had stepped out of
and put his hands on my head to help me get in before climbing in behind
me. I was almost in tears as the door shut behind us. He must
have seen what this was doing to me, because he reached over and began stroking
his hand up and down my arm impatiently as Skinner wrapped things up.
Finally, Skinner got into the car and started it, and Mulder pushed me forward
slightly and immediately unlocked the cuffs, removing them gently.
He held my near wrist as he brought it around in front, and he leaned in
and spoke in my ear.
"I love you."
I felt my whole body sag. We were free. The danger was over,
at least for now. Mulder was not putting me under arrest, and more
importantly, he still loved me. I started to shiver slightly, the adrenaline
rush wearing off.
"Shh...don't say anything, Alex. Skinner doesn't know about *us* yet.
Scully's going to meet us at my apartment, then we'll drive out of town and
go to a hospital. I don't want to freak Skinner out, so until we're
alone, let's keep it between us."
I nodded, swallowing back the childish hurt at not being able to just fall
into his arms. I was so tired, and so raw, and all of my many pains
had begun to make themselves known. I straightened up and stared straight
ahead as we drove to his apartment. His hand was resting on the seat
between us, and he stroked his fingers against my thigh, glancing over from
time to time. It helped. It helped a lot.
By the time we pulled up in front of the building, I was half asleep sitting
up, the adrenaline having completely worn off, and the blood loss and affereffects
of both my ordeal and the drug wiping me out completely. The car stopped
and I vaguely noted another sitting at the curb, idling.
"We're here," said Mulder. "Now just go straight to Scully's car."
I nodded and he opened the door and got out. I tried to get my body
to cooperate, I really did, but I could only stare at him, leaning back in
the seat, breathing shallowly.
"Alex? Are you okay?"
I opened my mouth to say 'fine,' but that would have been really stupid considering
I wasn't getting out of the car. I just shook my head, closing my eyes.
A moment later I felt my door being opened and Mulder leaned in grabbed me
around the chest.
"Come on, Alex. We just have to get to the car. You can lie down
in the back. I'll even let you put your head in my lap."
I managed to grin at that and summoned my last bit of strength to pull myself
to stand with Mulder's help. I leaned in and breathed him in, letting
his smell and touch give me strength enough to walk the few steps over to
the other car, then I felt myself being lowered into the back seat.
I fell against it with a groan. Mulder climbed in the other side and
I felt strong, warm arms wrap around me and pull me down. I fell into
his lap with a sigh, shivering as Mulder's fingers stroked through my hair,
lulling me into sleep.
Title: Love Hurts V: Broken