These characters and their environs on the X-Files belong to 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement is intended. I just want to play with the boys for a while before I let them go back to the lives they don't have on the show. This is just for fun, no money is being made from this. This story will eventually involve sex between two men, aka: slash. If that is *not* your cup of tea, sweet as it is, then don't read it! (simple, ain't it??) Feedback is *very* much appreciated, and always answered. Flames will be passed around to friends and chuckled over. :) Fourth in the Tapestry Series. You might want to read the others first, just so we're all on the same page, here. For Sickleweed, who wanted a story with a happy ending for the boys. This will be about as close as I can get. And for Desiree, who wanted a story where Krycek doesn't die. And for Toddie, for every other reason. More to come... Weft - Sunset by Amirin #117 *********************** Alex reserved a room for me under yet another name in a nice bed and breakfast about three miles inland from the beach. Said it was perfect jogging distance in the note I found on the nightstand. One step ahead of me. So what else is new. I had breakfast at the inn. It was ready for me the instant I showed up, along with another set of instructions. Three hundred dollars in small bills. And a leather jacket just like Alex's. It wasn't his. I checked. No hidden zipper in the left sleeve to accommodate the prosthesis. I spent the day on foot, breaking in the new Nikes that fit like someone had made them from casts of my feet, they were so exactly the right size. Even down to the fact that my left foot is half a size larger than my right. And he knew that. I don't even want to think about how he knew that. The day was wonderful. I hit the places Alex suggested I hit, ate at the restaurants he recommended I eat at, and saw the sights he asked me to see for him, so I could tell him about them later. Don't ask me why I just went along with it all. I haven't got a fucking clue. I even bought some clothes at the stores he preferred, since I hadn't packed for this many days, originally. I trusted the clerks to make sure nothing clashed. Paid cash for everything. Didn't touch my plastic, as per his instructions. Again. Anyway, the weather was cool, the sun warm, and it felt so damned good. I spent some time jogging up and down the beach in the evening after dinner, waiting for the sun to set. I was watching the red rim hit the horizon when my cell rang and I found myself scanning the beach for him and marveling at his timing. "Mulder." "You're smiling." "Where are you?" "Not there." "How far is that from 'somewhere else'?" His laughter accompanied my sitting down on cool sand and I sighed as I got comfortable. "It's a time zone or two from 'somewhere else', actually. Is the sun going down?" "Yeah. It looks incredible. Like someone set off a C-4 explosion in a paint factory." "Jesus, Mulder." More laughter. "I wish I was there." "Why aren't you?" "Don't ask." "Umm, working?" "That's one word for it." "Can I ask why you're doing this?" "Can I ask how you're feeling?" "What are you, my assassin-confessor?" "Funny, Mulder. Answer the question." "I feel pretty good. Better than I should, anyway." "And how should you feel?" "Like shit and guilty." "For how long?" "I...dunno." "If you ask me, you've felt like shit and guilty for too damned long, already." "I didn't ask you." "I know. But if you're feeling pretty good, then that's why I'm doing this." "You are so full of shit." "Did you have a good day?" "Yeah. Actually, I had a great day. Wandered around Conner's Point, had ice cream at Maggie's Soda Shoppe and Bookstore." "Did you meet Buster?" "Shit. You *know* this place, don't you? Hell, I damned near *sat* on Buster." "The burgundy winged-back chair next to the grandfather clock." "I'll be damned. Were you there?" "No, that's Buster's favorite seat. Anyone else sits there, he stares at them until they move." "I was not about to move just because a sixteen pound Russian Blue was staring at me." More laughter. "What'd he do to you?" "He hissed at me, Alex. And he untied my shoelaces." "Poor Fox." "Found a great book, though." "Yeah?" "An early edition of Peroskov's poetry." "How early?" "You've heard of Peroskov? Shit. 1952." "Damn, I'm impressed." "So am I. He's a little obscure." "And depressing." "Not too depressing." "Mulder, for Christ's sake. Russia. Siberia. Winter. Starvation. A body count that numbered in the dozens. Religious persecution. *Depressing*." "He wrote a great poem about vodka. And one about blue lights in the sky over Siberia." "Figures that that poem followed the one about vodka." "How'd you hear about him?" "My father admired his work." "Yeah? Mine, too." "How's the lobster?" "Huge. Wonderful. It's Maine." "Good. Good." "What's wrong?" "I may not be able to reach you for a while. I've got...things to take care of." "I'm a big boy, Alex. I can take care of myself, you know." "I know. Shit, I know." "So what's the problem? You've got somewhere to send me and you think I won't go if you can't check up on me?" "*Will* you go?" "Yeah, probably." "Why?" "Sorry, that's my question. And you still haven't answered it." "Are you enjoying the ride?" "Yeah. So far. It's been a hell of a lot of fun, actually. Very normal." "Normal is fun? I'll have to remember that." "For me, normal's not normal. And not normal usually involves unpleasant things. So, yeah. Normal is fun." "Things are going to get a little more normal, then." "I'm looking forward to it." "Get a good night's sleep; you're off bright and early tomorrow. Can you drive a stick?" "Yeah, why?" "You'll see. It'll be at the bed and breakfast in the morning. Just trade keys with the delivery man. Instructions in the glove box." "Got it. Can I ask you something?" "Always. I may opt not to answer, but you can always ask." "When are you going to start letting me pay my own way?" "Actually, you're sort of on your own for the next couple of days. I hope the cash holds out. If not, I'll make it up to you." "Alex, be serious. I mean, this can't have come cheap..." "Shut up, Fox. Believe it or not, I'm enjoying it, too." "Vicarious normal?" "You got it." "Okay." "Sun down?" "Yeah. Gorgeous. Sorry you missed it." "No more than I am. I'll be in touch." "Yeah. I'll miss you." "Mulder. I'm hanging up." *******************end