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. :) Ninth 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 - Rocking by Amirin #135 *********************** I had no idea what Alex was doing. Or where, exactly. And something told me I really didn't want to. I bailed out of the carriage and caught a cab back to the hotel. Headed to the garage and got the thick envelope out of the glovebox. Locked the keys inside, just like I was supposed to. And wondered what I'd find sitting in the 'Rosa's place, tomorrow. One of these days, my rental was going to be a Harrier. Walked slowly up to the suite, trying to guess what my next destination was by the heft of the envelope. I tossed it on the table when I came in. Deliberately making myself wait to see what was inside, like I used to do when I was a kid and I'd wake up at four in the morning on Christmas day. Back when it still meant something. Got my laundry out of the bags, so it wouldn't smell like plastic. Decided to leave the lights out in the room. I had an incredible view of the skyline. Breathtaking. I must have sat in the chair for hours, watching the cars, the airplanes, the lights. No other city on the planet looks like New York. It was almost ten when I gave in. According to my new watch. I was going to Boston. Or Bahston, depending on who you were talking to. Tickets to a Celtics game, tomorrow night. Much as I love basketball, the Celtics just haven't been the same since the Bird retired and flew back to Indiana. Still, it could be fun. More tickets to a late dinner cruise on the Harbor, afterward. Reservations for a night in an old inn, historic district. Under yet another fake name. I'd heard of this place. Nice. As for where I was going the morning after that, I had no idea. Alex hadn't planned that far ahead. Or, if he had, he wasn't telling. And I didn't know when I was going to get to see him. When had that become such an important part of the equation? The man had gone from being my nemesis to speed dial one. Ain't that a kick in the head? The car was another kick. And damned intimidating. I must have spent a good twenty minutes in the garage just staring at it. I knew it had to be mine before I even tried the key in the door. A '36 Rolls Royce Phantom III. Nicknamed the 'Phantom Menace' by mechanics because of the complicated construction of the V-12 engine. Custom roadster. Almost looked like something Cruella Deville would drive before she got around to skinning puppies. I loved it. Didn't know where it figured into the Alex Equation, or if it was simply a statement on the most recent Star Wars film, but I loved it. The drive to Boston was cool, clear, calm. Not the 'calm before the storm' calm. Just ordinary calm. Normal. Things were as close to and as far from being normal as I'd ever encountered. *Ever*. This whole thing with Alex wasn't normal. But, he was making it normal. He was getting me used to him, slowly, painlessly. Deliberately. Alex does nothing without a reason. A reason that may not make any sense at all to anyone else, but makes perfect sense to him. And the reason can change if the circumstances or the variables change; he's fluid enough to adapt. I found myself wondering how easily he'd adapted to losing his arm. And wondered if that was part of the reason I wasn't putting up much of a fight about his taking over my life. Maybe I felt I owed him, at least this much. Maybe not. I tried to think about what he was accomplishing, but made myself stop. As soon as I started questioning his motives, the indulgent, luxurious, wonderful vacation I was on suddenly turned malevolent. I didn't want to know. Whatever it was, whatever he was doing, I didn't want to know. My sense of self-preservation squawked a little, but only a little. If he'd wanted me dead, I would have been. If he'd wanted me permanently out of the way, I would have been. If he'd wanted revenge or retribution, for his arm, for his life, for the running, whatever... I didn't think he'd go about it this way. Alex was enjoying this. Not as much as I was, but still... Putting the brakes on my thinking left me distracted for most of the night. I wasn't the only one off his game. The Celtics lost miserably, but it was still fun. Every time someone's cell rang, I jumped a foot. And caught myself grinning at it. Dinner was wonderful. I was the only single man on the boat. Spent a lot of time staring at the lights rippling across the water, not thinking, just enjoying myself. It was a nice night, very deep, very dark. But, for whatever reason, I didn't get the feeling that anything was lurking in it. I trust my instincts. For good or bad, I trust them. And they were fine with this. After dinner, I headed back to the inn. Housekeeping was doing turn-down service, so I wandered out onto the porch. There were a few other people out there, the swings and chairs were creaking right along with the frogs and crickets, until I got around back. Almost silent. People-silent, anyway. The other creatures of the night were trying to top each other in how much noise they could make. I only added to it a little with the rocker I was in. I was creaking along in some weird duet with a frog when I heard it. A different creak, like the floor of the porch underfoot. Don't ask me how I knew. I just did. "'Bout time you showed up." "You're making that poor frog crazy, you know that?" "I'm just that kind of guy." He came around me slowly, hesitantly, and moved to lean against one of the columns. I could barely see him in the darkness. Only his eyes and the earring were reflecting any light at all. "Just the kind of guy who sends innocent frogs into mating frenzies? Nice, Mulder." "We all have our kinks." He laughed. "Some of us have more than others, apparently." "How are you?" God, could that be any more inane? I swear I could almost see the smirk on his face at that remark, and justifiably so. This was ridiculous. "I'm fine," he answered with a grin in his voice. "How are you?" "Fine." "I'm glad." "Yeah." "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "This is asinine." "I know." "Would it help if I went inside and called you?" I laughed. I couldn't help it. "Maybe. But don't." I could see his shrug and the shake of his head, the small hoop in his ear sending off tiny flashes of gleaming gold. "I love the car. I've loved *all* the cars." "The next one will be just your average stick, I'm afraid. A family kind of car." "I'll adjust," I said with a grin he could probably hear. "Alex?" "Whatever you do, don't thank me. Please." "Why not?" "I don't want your thanks." He turned away enough for me to see his profile. He didn't look happy. Come to think of it, he'd rarely ever looked happy, in the time I'd known him. "What's wrong? Alex?" "Fox...Nothing, really." "Why don't I believe you?" "Maybe because you know I'm a pathological liar? Gee, Mulder, could that be why?" Krycek asked wryly. I stood up and moved towards him and I swear I saw his whole body tense, eyes darting, looking for the closest escape route. "Easy, Jesus, Alex. Relax." He snorted. "I can't afford to relax, Mulder. Not yet. If I do, I'm dead." "Can you tell me why you're doing all this?" "Is normal still fun?" Okay, he threw me with that one. "Yeah," I answered with some confusion. "Normal's a lot of fun." "I'm looking forward to normal," he said quietly. "It doesn't have to be a lot of fun." I moved a little closer, carefully. It was like trying not to startle an animal, because you're afraid it'll run out into traffic, if you do. He tensed, again, anyway. "Do you really think I'm going to hurt you?" "More than likely, Mulder," he said softly. "It's not going to happen." "Don't tell me that. I can't believe it." "It isn't going to happen." "Maybe not now..." "Alex." "Don't. Just...don't." I was close enough to touch him, close enough to see his face. And as close as I was, we may as well have been a continent apart. "Did you see the sunset earlier?" I whispered. Normal volume just seemed too loud. "Yeah, over the St. Charles." "Been a while, huh?" "Yeah." "I wish you'd told me I was hiding." "You aren't hiding, Fox." "Do they think I'm still in Vermont?" "Yeah. With any luck they think we *both* are." "This is coming close to wrapping up, isn't it? Whatever it is?" "A day or two. If I'm really, really, fucking lucky." "Can I help?" He looked right at me. And through me. I swear to god, I felt it. "Would you? Help me?" "What do you need?" "Shit, Fox..." "Talk to me." "Give me a day or two to set some things up. I'll let you know." "Where am I going tomorrow?" "I left instructions in your room." "Okay." "You're just going to go along with this without an argument, aren't you?" "Probably," I answered wryly. Alex shook his head. "Why?" he asked like he really wanted to know. "Something major is going on..." "Shit! You don't know what that is, Mulder. I could be setting you up six ways from Sunday. You don't *know*!" "Tell me you're setting me up," I challenged. "Tell me this was all just an elaborate mind fuck until you deliver me to the highest bidder with a bow around my neck. Tell me you're going to get me killed." "I just might, Mulder! Dammit!" He turned away and I caught his arm. Or, the arm that wasn't his arm. We both froze. I slid my hand up the leather until the plastic under it became flesh. "If you've been doing all this to soften me up, to get me to cooperate with you in whatever you have to do..." "Mulder..." "I gotta tell ya, I think it worked." "Shit." "I'd probably be dead a dozen times over if I hadn't gone along with you, right?" "Probably." "Okay, then. I don't think I'll be stopping any time soon. I don't think I'm in any danger, not from you..." "You can't trust me," Alex interrupted. "I can't trust anyone beyond a certain point. You haven't reached it, yet." What the hell had that come from? I think it surprised him as much as it did me. "Christ." I don't think I'd ever seen him so frightened. Edgy. Nervous. I put my other hand on his shoulder, just to keep him from bolting. What happened next...I gotta admit, I never saw it coming. He moved closer and put his arm around me. Rested his chin on my shoulder. Sighed quietly. And the whole 'not hurting him' thing took on a slightly different cast. A vision of me backing up and backhanding him across the face flashed through my mind and I cringed inwardly. Externally, too, apparently, because he stiffened and tried to pull away from me. "Don't," I murmured into his ear. "Don't move. It's okay." "Fox." "Alex. Just...be still." He went silent, but stayed wary. Watchful. As always. My leather jacket rubbed against his and creaked and damn me if that fucking frog didn't answer the call. His shaking worried me for a second, until I realized it was laughter. I couldn't help it, I just followed where he led. As usual. We got a little hysterical for a moment, then calmed down. His fingers ghosted through my hair and he eased back, still grinning. "I should go." "I know." "I've got a shitload of stuff to do." "I know." "Wish I didn't." "I know." He snorted. "And here you thought I was softening *you* up. Ha!" My eyes narrowed. "Just how soft are you?" "My god, did *that* sound like a pick-up line. And a *bad* one, Mulder." "Alex." My voice was a warning. Fortunately, he heard it. His *other* grin, the one that almost made me feel sorry for whomever he encountered next, flashed like a switchblade and he shrugged nonchalantly. "Not that soft. I'll be okay. Thanks for worrying." There was a genuine...*something* under the sarcasm, which I appreciated on some level. The sarcasm, I didn't. Christ, he was annoying. No wonder I spent so damned much time knocking him around. I thought the usual Krycek was back and sighed. Shit, and people think *I'm* mercurial. I've got nothing on Alex Krycek. "Watch yourself," I said quietly and started to move back. "You, too. I'll be in touch." I thought he'd just leave. When I'm wrong, *damn*, I'm wrong. He closed the distance between us, caught my eyes for a second, and leaned forward just enough to touch his mouth to mine. Tentatively. For about a heartbeat. Then, his tongue found a way in. He tasted like mint. And chocolate. And heat. And...God. His arm pulled me even closer. Only the one, like he didn't want to touch me with the other. My hands went under his jacket, felt the muscles flexing and tensing under the t-shirt. Lean. Wiry. Powerful. Lethal. Strong, but not savage. Hard, hungry. Perfect. Christ... Alex backed up just enough to rest his forehead against mine. It was comforting to see him breathing just as heavily as I was. "I need to go," he said, voice weighted with regret. I couldn't say I liked the idea. So, I kissed him. For some odd reason, it seemed to take him by surprise. His gasp made things much easier and I took my time committing his taste, his scent, the very *feel* of him to memory. He finally wrenched himself away, just when things started to get interesting. "Fox, I've *got* to go." He was trying so hard to be firm, some parts of him were succeeding better than others. It might have worked if I hadn't given in to the temptation to see what his throat felt like under my lips. He swallowed convulsively and jerked, groaning my name in a choked whisper. "This is fun," I breathed against his skin, mouth moving from pounding pulse to the silky spot under his ear. "You're a twisted son-of-a-bitch, Mulder," he gasped just before crying out in strangled Russian when I gently bit him. "This is a hell of a lot of fun," I amended, switching sides. "Oh, *Christ*." I moved my hands down to his waist, but didn't go lower. I bet I could've; I don't think he was in any position to stop me. But I stayed where I was, locked my knees to keep them from buckling and waited while he recovered. I amused myself by working my tongue around his earring until I felt him chuckling against me. "Fox, if I don't go now, I won't. And I have to." "I know." I eased away as much as I could, which wasn't much. He hadn't let go of me, either. "I'll find you." "Okay. Watch your ass." "Bet on it." He kissed me again, too quickly for me to react, and disengaged himself from me a second before he vaulted over the railing, went around the house and disappeared. I sighed and headed back into the inn, made my way up to my room. The sheets were turned down and there was an envelope on my pillow. Nothing else. The bastard had eaten my mint. ~~~end