Title: Serenity Author: Diandra Hollman Feedback: I live for it. diandrahollman@gmail.com Website: http://diandrahollman.tripod.com/index.html Date Finished: 1/31/06 Rating: NC-17 (what do you expect from me, really?) Keywords: X-Files/Alias crossover, slash, Mulder/Vaughn, Scully, Sydney, Doggett, casefile, Mulder POV, Vaughn POV Spoilers: Mild ones for "Phase One", but otherwise no. Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and Doggett belong to Chris Carter and 1013; Vaughn, Sydney and Weiss belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot. Although since none of these people seems to want any of these characters any more other than Sydney and possibly Weiss, I'd be glad to take 'em. ;) Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral, Mulder Slash, Cover Me, Alias Slash, XFMU and anyone else I gave permission to archive "Intoxicated" and/or "Sobriety". Anyone else, ask me at the e-mail address above. Summary: "I realized suddenly that in spite of any reservations I may have had, I wanted this. Maybe it was what I had wanted all along." Dedication: To CC and JJ for creating the wonderful characters of Mulder and Vaughn and to David Duchovny and Michael Vartan for so wonderfully bringing them to life. I would also like to apologize to all these people for no doubt butchering these characters. Author's Notes: This is part three in the Detox series. Before you read this, you may want to read Intoxicated and Sobriety in that order. Serenity By Diandra Hollman "Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference." - The Serenity Prayer I lay on the bed of yet another partially-rundown hotel room in a town that looked just like every other town I've been in only slightly more desolate. I couldn't sleep - as usual - so I was entertaining myself by counting the cracks in the ceiling. I could hear muffled voices emanating from the TV in Scully's room - more than likely tuned in to the 10:00 news. Just our luck, we seemed to have gotten ourselves caught in what could very well be the storm of the century. It was enough to keep the local newscasters busy, and, of course, they were treating it more like it was the coming of Armageddon than a simple blizzard. I found it amusing at first, but it had grown tedious. It was obvious the storm would not be letting up any time soon. And all the roads were shut down, so we were stuck here until it blew over. I was so lost in thought that I almost didn't hear the dull-but-distinctive thump of a body hitting my door. My attention snapped in the direction of the sound, my mind already racing with possible, non-threatening explanations. Maybe it was the hotel manager or some drunk mistaking this room for his. I listened for the sound of hands fumbling keys in the lock, but I hear nothing. Maybe it was just my imagination searching for some sort of excitement to keep my bored mind from atrophying. I grabbed my gun, flicked off the safety and inched slowly toward the door. Better safe than dead, I guess. I unlocked the door slowly, quietly, and paused for a moment to get my bearings. I took a deep breath and threw the door open, my gun leveled at what would hopefully be my potential attacker's face. Meanwhile, the person that had been slumped against the door keeled over to land curled up at my feet. I swept my gaze down quickly to make sure this person wasn't posing any threat then back up to make sure there wasn't anybody else. While it was nearly impossible to see through the thick, blowing snow I was reasonably certain there was nobody else out there. I bent down and rolled the figure onto its back, muttering a curse as I was met with a familiar face. I re-engaged the safety on my weapon and tucked it into the back of the dress slacks I still hadn't changed out of. I knelt on the floor beside him and studied his face for a moment. He was unconscious. His teeth chattered behind lips that were trembling and rapidly turning blue. How the hell did he get here, I wondered, baffled. "Agent Vaughn," I called, carefully slapping his cheek. His eyes fluttered open briefly and he made a sort of breathy, gasping noise, but otherwise remained oblivious. I shivered. It had to be well below zero outside. I got the impression that if I didn't get the door closed soon, icicles would start forming on the furniture. "Come on, wake up," I urged, slapping a little more insistently. He frowned slightly and tried to roll away from me. Obviously, this wasn't going to work. So, I went directly to plan B, which was to drag him inside - using two fistfuls of his jacket as leverage - then close the door and re-lock it. It took me a couple minutes to manhandle him onto the bed. He was heavier than he looked. Then I sat next to him for a few moments trying to figure out what in the hell he was doing here and what I was supposed to do now. Before I had the chance to really consider the idea I knocked on the adjoining door to Scully's room. There was some rustling before she opened the door and peered at me curiously. I vaguely noted that she was still dressed in her work clothes as well. "Jesus, Mulder," she gasped, shivering and wrapping her arms around herself. "Did your heater break down?" "I think I'm gonna need your help," I said. I heard a rustle of movement coming from the bed and watched Scully's eyes widen slightly as they darted in the direction of the noise then back to me quickly. She opened her mouth as if to comment or ask me what the hell was going on. Apparently, she changed her mind, because her mouth snapped shut after a moment and she gave me a quick nod before turning back into her room. "Vaughn," I called as I returned to the bed, sat on the edge closest to him and shook him firmly by the shoulders. He stirred, but didn't show any signs of awareness. His clothes were soaked. I started removing his jacket, trying not to flinch at the cold as my fingers gradually grew numb. I had no idea what he was doing there or why. I didn't know how he had found my room, but I was glad he did. I didn't need Scully's medical expertise to recognize that if he had stayed out there in that snowstorm any longer he would have died. "Who is he," Scully asked as she came into my room, setting her medical bag down on the table next to the bed. I looked up, startled, and scrambled to think of a way to explain it to her. CIA? No, that wouldn't work. Former lover? Somewhat truthful I guess. The guy I've been fucking for over a year? Oh yeah, *that* would go over well... "He's a friend," I finally said. She gave me a look like she wasn't sure if she believed me or not. "Does he have a name," she asked as she started digging for something in her bag. "Agent Michael Vaughn," I replied. Her head shot up at the word 'Agent'. Our eyes met. She opened her mouth as if to comment, then changed her mind and returned to her searching, finally coming up with a penlight. I stood up to make room for her and she sat in the spot I vacated, leaning over Vaughn and opening his eyelids one at a time with one hand while shining the penlight into his eyes with the other. "Agent Vaughn, can you hear me," she asked softly as she did this. He twitched slightly and made a small, barely audible noise, no more forceful than a breath. He was half-conscious at best. "It's okay," she murmured, "I'm a doctor. Are you in any pain?" His head shook slightly. She felt along his neck and limbs carefully, then rolled him onto his side and slipped her hand beneath the jacket I hadn't finished removing to feel along his back. Satisfied, she turned to me and said, "Help me get his clothes off." Together, we managed to strip him down to his boxers. His skin was ice cold, but that didn't worry me as much as the fact that he wasn't shivering. I didn't need to see the frown on Scully's face to know it was bad. She grabbed an aural thermometer out of her bag and placed it in his ear gently. When it beeped, she pulled it back, frowned at the numbers and turned to me again. "There's a heating pad in my suitcase - I need you to get it for me. Then I want you to fill the sink in the bathroom with hot water - as hot as you can get it - and put all the towels, washcloths, anything you can find in it." I nodded and walked hurriedly into her room to retrieve the pad, listening to her voice as she talked to Vaughn - assuring him that he would be fine and we just needed to warm him up. She thanked me distractedly as I handed her the electric heating pad and managed to slide it beneath his upper back while I filled the bathroom sink with hot water. Again, I listened to her as she asked Vaughn if he could move his fingers. There was a pause before I heard her mumble a few soothing statements and I knew that the answer was 'no'. When I returned to the bedroom a minute later with several warmed towels, Scully had removed Vaughn's boxers - which were also soaked - and was dragging a portion of the bedspread over his hips to preserve his modesty, even though I was sure he didn't give a shit at that point. She paused and reached for one of the towels, draping that over him instead. Five minutes later, we had placed warm cloths on his wrists, ankles, neck, armpits and groin. Scully removed the sheet from the bed and soaked it too, before covering him with it. "We're going to have to keep changing these as they cool off," she said while she tucked the sheet as close to him as possible. Then she said, "I'll be right back," and returned to her room. A minute later I heard her door open, letting in a gust of cold air before slamming shut again. I sat with Vaughn quietly, my hand resting on his covered forearm, studying him as the questions kept floating through my mind. Scully returned a while later with a styrofoam cup of hot cider that she had gotten from the vending machine at the main office and another armful of towels. "See if you can get him to drink that," she said, handing the cup to me and then disappearing into the bathroom to refresh the cooling water in the sink. I pulled the lid off the cup and blew on it a bit so it wasn't quite so scalding. Then I slipped my arm underneath his back carefully, raising him up a bit. I tipped the cup to his lips with a soft, "Drink." His lips parted obediently and he swallowed a few sips before he turned his head in refusal. His eyes had not opened since I had brought him inside, but at least he was responding. I eased him back down and replaced all the cloths that had been dislodged by the movement. He frowned, his forehead wrinkling, and whimpered softly. "It's okay," I mumbled automatically before I stood up and joined Scully in the bathroom. She had just put the last of the new batch of towels in the sink. She shook excess water from her hands before she turned to face me, arms folded in front of her chest. "You want to tell me what's going on now," she demanded. "How do you know this man?" I sighed. "We met a little over a year ago at a bar." There - it wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole story. She didn't need to know the rest. "Why haven't I heard about him before?" "Because I had no reason to tell you," I said, starting to get defensive. She sighed, looking at the ceiling for a moment before fixing me with her stare again. "Is he FBI?" "No." I cut her off as she opened her mouth to guess again, "I think it might be a good idea if I didn't tell you." She stared at me blankly for a moment before her eyes registered her understanding. "He's CIA," she whispered, not really questioning, just looking for confirmation. I looked at the floor nervously. "Jesus, Mulder," she breathed. There was a pause before she asked, "What is he doing here?" "I don't know," I answered honestly. Her eyes searched mine for a minute, trying to determine whether or not I was telling the truth. I can't lie to her anymore - she can read me like nobody else has ever been able to. "I think he's in pain," I said, changing the subject. I was anxious to get back to him, afraid of what might happen if he suddenly got his mobility back and there was nobody with him. Scully looked like she didn't want to let the subject drop, but for the time being helping Vaughn was more important. She turned to the sink and started fishing out the towels. "That's a good sign," she said, all business again. "It means he's starting to regain feeling. Can you get the other towels - and the sheet - and bring them in here?" I gratefully did her bidding, returning to the bedroom and gingerly removing the sheet, as well as all of the damp towels, from the man on the bed. My gut clenched as Vaughn moaned at the loss of heat. I placed my hand on his cheek to try to soothe him. I figured it was probably my imagination, but I thought he felt warmer. Scully came in the room behind me and started arranging the new towels over Vaughn as I carried the old ones to the bathroom. I re-soaked the sheet quickly and brought it back out where Scully helped me spread it over him. She showed me how to massage his limbs a certain way to both coax the blood back into them and ease his discomfort while she retrieved the stethoscope from her bag. She held it to his chest, listening for...hell, I don't know. She moved it around several times and frowned. "What's wrong," I asked, trying not to sound too worried. "That's the problem, I can't find anything. He doesn't seem to have anything more than a severe case of hypothermia, but he should be cognizant by now." She sighed, removing the earpieces and dropping the stethoscope onto the table. "It could be nothing, but..." She trailed off as I knew her thoughts started racing. She took his temperature again and stared at the tiny display on the thermometer. Her lack of expression bothered me. "What," I asked, the worry starting to seep into my voice despite my efforts to prevent it. "Too fast," she mumbled, more to herself than to me. Then she seemed to shake herself out of her trance and addressed me. "He's warming up too fast. I think the hypothermia was masking the symptoms of a fever." "So now what," I asked as I continued massaging Vaughn's left hand. She sighed and brushed the backs of her fingers over his temple and cheek to judge the heat of his skin. "The most important thing right now is to treat the hypothermia. We'll deal with the rest once that's taken care of." *********** (Three hours later) "Mulder, you should get some sleep," Scully said gently, rubbing my shoulder affectionately. "Yeah," I replied distractedly. "I will." Then I went back to sponging Vaughn's overheated skin with cool water. "Mulder, you're exhausted. I can take over for a couple hours," she insisted. I hesitated a moment, my hand hovering over Vaughn's slightly heaving chest. "You won't do him any good if you wear yourself into the ground," she pointed out. "Okay," I finally sighed, relinquishing the towel to her. She smiled sympathetically, but I could sense a hint of victory dancing in her eyes. "You can take my bed," she offered. I nodded tiredly and shuffled towards her room. I barely managed the energy required to take off my shoes before I flopped on her unmade bed. I curled around her pillow, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo - or perfume or whatever it is that smells like some sort of fruit - and just drifted off. I was sure I had only been asleep for an hour before I was woken by a shout. I stumbled back into my room to find Scully sitting on the bed next to Vaughn, one hand running a cool cloth over his face, the other covering one of his hands - pressing firmly as if she were holding it down. She was humming soothingly (albeit tunelessly), trying to calm him. Then she noticed me standing there and looked up, startled. Her eyes were starting to get the glossy, vacant look of exhaustion. I walked over to her and gently removed Vaughn's hand from her grip, uncurling his clenched fingers, and wrapping my own hand around it loosely. "My turn," I told Scully softly. "Go get some sleep." "Are you sure," she asked, even though it sounded like she didn't really want to argue. I nodded and she pressed the washcloth into my hand, patted my shoulder and trudged tiredly into her room. When she had gone, I leaned down and pushed back the hair that had been plastered to his forehead. "Vaughn," I called softly. Scully had warned me that he would be mostly incoherent throughout the night, but that didn't stop me from trying to get through to him. I thought I felt his hand twitch ever so slightly in mine. I gave his hand a small squeeze. "Vaughn, can you hear me?" His eyelids fluttered and he moaned softly. "It's okay," I said quickly, stroking his arm with my free hand. "You're safe." His forehead wrinkled and his head rolled slightly from side to side. Then I heard a raspy whisper that I barely recognized as his voice. "Syd..." Syd. Sydney. The woman he worked with. Shit. Just as I began to wonder if maybe I had misread his intentions from the first time we met - if maybe he felt more for this woman that I originally anticipated - his head lolled again and he made a throaty, pained noise, and mumbled, "No... please...ungh..." He was dreaming. And it obviously wasn't a good dream, either, but a dark, frightening fever dream. Sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm too paranoid for my own good... I picked up the abandoned cloth and soaked it in the bowl Scully had managed to find when we realized how impractical it was to be running to the bathroom every few minutes to re-soak towels. I bathed his forehead gently and repeated my earlier assurance over and over. Whether or not he heard me, his fevered ramblings continued. I couldn't understand most of it. I could tell some of it was in French, but I was sure even more of it was gibberish. I definitely heard Sydney's name a couple of times, but I thought I heard my own name too, although it could have just been my imagination. He cried out a couple of times, but unlike me, it didn't seem to disturb Scully's sleep. And even though I tried not to let it happen, after seemingly endless hours of battling his fever, I managed to drift to sleep. My only comfort was that his incoherent babbling had finally ceased and he seemed a bit cooler. Scully's hand on my arm jolted me back to consciousness. I tried to ask what had happened, but my sleep-fogged mind would only let me say "mmmmffffhhhh." "His fever broke," Scully whispered, a slight smile tugging at her lips. I blinked at her stupidly for a few moments while my brain tried to process what she was saying. Then my eyes darted towards the man on the bed, almost expecting to be greeted by a smiling Vaughn. He was still unconscious, but for the first time since he had shown up at the hotel the night before he looked peaceful. Scully retreated into the bathroom to refresh the water in the bowl and I took the opportunity to stroke his sweat-slickened forehead. We spent the next ten minutes bathing him with cool water. He didn't stir until we rolled him onto his side to do his back. I shushed him quietly, stroking his shoulder gently. "It's okay," I murmured reassuringly. "You're safe." He stilled immediately. I half expected a comment - or at least an odd stare - from Scully, but she acted like nothing had happened. Maybe she just wasn't surprised by anything I did anymore... When we finished, she patted my arm and announced that she was going to the main office. The blizzard had started to clear an hour earlier, but the roads were probably still shut down, and we had lost power sometime during the night so we couldn't turn on the TV to check the conditions. After she left, I went to work at spreading a new, dry sheet over Vaughn. He began to stir again, making soft, breathy noises. I went to soothe him again and froze when I saw his eyelids fluttering, his forehead wrinkling in confusion. "Vaughn," I called softly as I hovered over him. I gathered his right hand in my own, freeing my left to gently run my knuckles along his cheek. "Vaughn, can you hear me?" His eyes opened just far enough to let in what little light was pouring through the windows before slamming shut again with a flinch. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and he coughed weakly. His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on my hand and I squeezed back carefully. The fever and hypothermia combined had so sapped him of his strength that he almost appeared frail and I was suddenly afraid that I would hurt him unintentionally. "Hey," I whispered with a friendly smile when his eyes finally opened fully. "Do that again and I might have to kick your ass." He smiled tiredly and rolled his eyes. "You could try," he whispered, his voice strained and hoarse. I laughed softly and brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He tugged at my hand slightly, his eyes asking for something he couldn't - or was afraid to - voice. And because I knew that Scully was intentionally taking more time than necessary to give us some privacy, I gave it to him. I stretched out on the bed next to him, one arm thrown above his head and the other draped across him, holding him tightly. He curled into me as much as he could and sighed contentedly. "What happened," he finally asked. "I could ask you the same question. You were a day early." "I thought I'd surprise you." "Yeah, well, you certainly did. I wasn't expecting to play nurse this weekend." He flinched. "Sorry." I softened. "Hey," I whispered. "At least you're okay." There was a long pause before he whispered, "I got my car stuck in a snow bank. I had to walk the last couple miles." "In a blizzard? Are you insane? You could have frozen to death!" I tried not to think about how much I sounded like my mother. "I could have done that in the car too, while I waited for help," he argued wearily. "I figured I would be fine as long as I kept moving. Besides, I was wearing so many layers of clothes I felt like I was burning up." "You *were* burning up, Vaughn. You had a fever of a-hundred- and-three!" He winced and apologized again. "It's okay," I repeated. "You're here now." I could tell the conversation was exhausting him. His eyes looked sunken, his face pale. "Get some rest," I whispered, stroking the soft hairs at his temple in a gentle, lulling rhythm. Just as he was starting to drift back to sleep, I heard Scully's door open and bolted upright on the bed. Seconds later, she opened the connecting door and handed me a glass of water. "It looks like the worst of the storm is over," she announced. "But it's still snowing pretty heavily. They haven't been able to run the snow plows yet, so it looks like we're not going anywhere for a while." "You must be Agent Scully," Vaughn piped up in the strongest voice he could manage. She looked at him, startled, and then shot me an inquisitive glance, nodding tentatively. Before she could say anything, however, his small attempt at speech sent Vaughn into a coughing fit. I shoved the water back into Scully's hands absently and quickly raised him into a sitting position. He leaned on me heavily and clutched at my arm as his whole body was wracked by deep, painful sounding coughs. I rubbed circles on his back with my free hand and muttered low encouragements for him to breathe. I didn't even care if Scully saw anymore. Scully, meanwhile, set the glass on the table and reached for her stethoscope. She knelt on the other side of the bed and gently lifted the T-shirt we had put on Vaughn earlier. She pressed the end of the stethoscope to his chest and apologized as he winced at the cold metal. She moved it around a bit and asked him to take deep breaths. "Well," she finally announced, "Your lungs are clear, but next time I would stay *inside* during a major blizzard if I were you." He smiled weakly at her and slumped against me. I helped him lay back down and Scully went back into her room after giving me instructions to call her if I needed any help. After she left, Vaughn reached for my hand and pulled me down again. "You didn't tell me she'd be here," he whispered accusingly. "She usually is," I admitted. "You've just never met her. She doesn't normally have a reason to come in my room." His eyes widened and his ears tinged pink. "Has she always been right next door?" "Usually," I murmured, an amused smile starting to creep onto my face. "Considering how little noise you make I figured it wouldn't be an issue. She can still hear *me*, but I knew she would just assume I was watching porn." "Damnit, Mulder," he hissed angrily. "She could have seen me coming and going! And what if she had walked in when..." He trailed off, seemingly embarrassed - or perhaps horrified - at the thought of a stranger walking in while we were having sex. I smiled at the mental picture that idea gave me. I could almost imagine Scully peeking through the doorway, her face frozen in shock at the sight of Vaughn splayed out - naked - on my bed, moaning softly and glistening with sweat. I - equally sweaty - would be draped over him, between his legs, inside him, fucking him enthusiastically. Would she shut the door quickly in disgust and never be able to look me in the eye again or would she have watched in fascination, wondering who this mysterious man was? I guess if I know her as well as I think I do, I'd expect her to shut the door quickly and pretend nothing had ever happened. "I locked the door whenever you were there," I finally confessed. "And trust me - the chances of her seeing you arriving or leaving enough times to recognize a pattern were slim to none." He relaxed slightly, but continued to give me a disapproving look. "It was still an unnecessary risk," he insisted stubbornly. I kissed him, running my tongue along his lips until he opened them, allowing me inside. After exploring every inch of his mouth, I pulled back and looked into his eyes. "You're trying to distract me," he grumbled. I smiled. "Is it working?" He shot me a glare. I laughed and kissed him again. When we came up for air, he groaned and started to sit up. "Bathroom," he muttered. "I'm not sure you should be standing up yet, Vaughn," I argued warily. "Well, it doesn't look like I have a choice..." I just barely managed to keep myself from laughing at the expression on his face when I held up the jar Scully and I had used as a sort of makeshift urinal for him while he was half conscious and delirious. "I'd rather take my chances at standing," he grumbled. My lips twitched as I imagined Scully congratulating me on finding somebody as stubborn as I am. I opened my mouth to argue again, but he cut me off. "Look, I'm gonna do this with or without your help, so either give me a hand or get out of the way." I sighed and helped him stand up wordlessly with one hand under his arm and the other around his waist. He only leaned on me slightly as we made our way to the bathroom. I was surprised that he didn't say anything when I didn't leave to give him some privacy. I hovered nearby as he finished and shuffled over to the sink. He appeared steady, but I wanted to be ready to catch him if he started to fall. "I was going to take a shower too," he finally said. "Are you going to stand there waiting the whole time?" "I don't think that's a good idea, Vaughn. You might fall and hurt yourself..." "You could always join me," he said with a small, suggestive leer. "Make sure that doesn't happen." I rolled my eyes. "That would *definitely* not be a good idea." "Fine, have it your way," he shrugged and sort of staggered toward the shower. I beat him there easily and turned on the faucet to let the water warm up before pushing him to sit on the closed toilet seat. "Can you at least settle for a bath," I asked compromisingly. He grunted out a somewhat reluctant yes. I turned away for a moment to plug the drain in the tub and by the time I turned back he was drawing his T-shirt off. I watched for a moment in fascination at the lean, firm muscles that were revealed, then looked away quickly before he could catch me staring. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand up and immediately begin falling forward. "Woah," I blurted as I spun back and grabbed him by the upper arms, intending to right him. It was at that moment that I realized he had merely been trying to remove his boxers. He looked up at me, startled, and the material fell from his hands to land in a puddle around his ankles. We just stared at each other for a few moments, trying to process what had just happened. Then he smiled and tentatively brushed his lips against mine. I responded a bit awkwardly (it was taking me a bit longer to process than him), gladly welcomed the distraction from a potentially embarrassing situation, but broke away fairly quickly. Vaughn hummed, eyes closed, and leaned in again, but I held him firmly at arms length. "Bath," I reminded him. I was already panting slightly, and I knew if I didn't get him in the tub soon, he would never get there. He sighed and grumbled, but allowed me to help him into the half-filled bathtub. I removed my outer shirt - leaving the white T-shirt underneath - while he leaned back with a sigh of pleasure that sent the majority of my blood rushing south. "Is the water warm enough," I asked, trying to maintain my composure. He smiled with his eyes still closed and murmured, "It's perfect." Then he opened his eyes and added, "Are you sure you don't wanna join me?" My cock throbbed against the confines of my slacks. No, I told myself sternly, I couldn't do it. If I did, I would no longer be able to control myself. Not only was he still recovering from his illness, there was now the added risk of Scully returning at any moment. But... I looked at Vaughn - his arms and legs open and inviting, a sexy smile on his face... Suddenly, I thought I knew how Adam felt when Eve handed him that apple. No, scratch that, I knew how *Eve* felt when the snake encouraged her to take the damn thing in the first place. I turned off the water and knelt beside the tub. I grabbed a washcloth, lathered it with a generous amount of soap, and began running it over his chest and across his shoulders. "I can do that myself, you know," Vaughn protested. "Just relax," I murmured, dragging the cloth down one arm. He sighed and lay back, closing his eyes again in surrender. By the time I finished his upper body I was almost trembling with arousal. The sheer eroticism of the situation, combined with Vaughn's moans and sighs of pleasure, was quickly destroying what resolve I had left. I washed his legs and feet, then paused to look at his face. His eyes were closed, his lips parted with soft, panting breaths. His entire body was strung taut in anticipation of my next move. I wrapped my hand - with the washcloth - around his throbbing length and moved it up and down gently, mindful of the potential harshness of the cloth against the sensitive skin. He hissed triumphantly and raised his hips to meet my hand. After a few strokes, I moved to run the cloth over his sac. When I brushed it against his anus, his head fell back with a ragged moan and his hips jerked roughly, splashing water over the rim of the bathtub. "Please," he breathed, pushing himself further into my hand. I continued to tease the cloth along his opening while I reached my other hand behind his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. I nipped and sucked at his lower lip while he gasped and moaned passionately. I worked the hand not between his legs up into his hair, tangling my fingers in the thick strands. Then I removed my hand from his groin and dunked his head under the water. He came up, coughing and spluttering, and glared at me. I tried not to laugh, but I could feel my lips twitching. "You bastard," he gasped. "What the hell was that for?" I raised my eyebrows innocently and reached for the bottle of complimentary shampoo. "I still have to wash your hair," I explained. He rolled his eyes, but only hesitated briefly before leaning back and closing his eyes so I could lather his hair. Soon, he was moaning and sighing again as my fingers thoroughly massaged his scalp. Every ragged sound from him sent a red-hot spike of arousal through me until I was afraid my pants would rip from the strain. I leaned down to brush at his lips again...and again. Vaughn smiled contentedly, his eyes still closed, and let me tip his head back to rinse the shampoo out. As I was combing my fingers through the soft strands to make sure all the suds were gone, I felt something brush against my leg and I froze. At some point, he had sneaked his left arm out of the tub and was trailing his fingertips lightly up the inside of my left thigh. I groaned when he reached the bulge at the front of my slacks and began tracing random patterns over the material. "You want me to take care of this for you," he asked in a heated whisper. I blinked at him, thrown off a bit by his behavior. I didn't know why he was suddenly acting like a cheap whore, but whatever the reason, it was definitely turning me on. Actually, maybe that was why. He knew me. I had the presence of mind to spread a towel out on the floor before dragging him out of the tub and laying him on it. We both hurried to remove my clothes, managing to do so without separating our lips. I grabbed the bar of soap again and used it as an impromptu lubricant. I plunged two fingers inside him, opening him, while he reached for my erection and pumped his hand up and down...up and down...until I grabbed his wrist and halted his movements. "If you keep doing that, this is going to be over very quickly," I warned. "Then get on with it," he groaned. "I'm ready." "Not quite, but almost," I said with a measured grin. Then I bent down and licked his length slowly from base to tip. I heard a thump as his head dropped back onto the floor. I blew gently across the tip, watching it twitch and listening to his quiet moan. He gasped as I began to take him into my mouth, sucking steadily, my tongue flicking against that one spot underneath the head that I knew would drive him crazy. "Oh god...Mulder," he gasped, his fingers tangling in my hair. His grip still wasn't particularly strong, but I let him guide my head anyway. This was really just to distract him from the discomfort of my fingers stretching him. Well...mostly. I added a third finger and twisted them around, working his muscles loose. At the same time, I hummed softly, creating a slight vibration. "Fuck," he yelped, his hands tightening on my hair. I winced. If he pulled any harder, I was in danger of losing several clumps of hair. Not that I have any vanity issues when it comes to losing my hair... Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, I do. I brought my hands up to carefully coax his away from my head, releasing him from my mouth in the process. I smiled as he whined mournfully at the loss. He watched me with bright, lust-glazed eyes as I coated my length in a thick coat of soapy lather. I carefully lowered myself over him and let him reach down to guide me to his opening. I pushed inside him easily. His body arched with a soundless cry and his fingernails dug small wounds in my back. I helped him wrap his legs around my waist and thrust once, languidly. He sighed and smiled up at me almost shyly. Well, as shy as a man can look when he has another man's dick up his ass... You know what I mean. "Are you okay," I asked, still afraid that he was not well enough to be doing something like this so soon in his recovery. "I will be if you keep doing that." I stopped moving my hips and glared down at him. "Very funny," I muttered dryly. "Jesus, Mulder," he groaned. "Just fuck me!" I tried to keep my expression stern, but I failed miserably. "Yes, sir," I mumbled under my breath as I resumed my thrusts. I stopped abruptly again as I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Mulder," Scully called warily from the other side. Shit. "Yeah," I called, straining to keep my voice at a normal level. "Are you okay in there? Is Agent Vaughn with you?" /Yeah, Scully, he is,/ I thought. /He can't talk right now, though, as I am currently fucking him stupid./ Somehow, I didn't think she would like that answer. "Yeah," I repeated. /Oh, what the hell./ I started my hips back up again, thrusting as noiselessly as possible. Vaughn shoved at my shoulders ineffectually, shaking his head back and forth violently, a mortified look in his eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him, smiling crookedly, and continued, my voice miraculously steady. "Yeah, he wanted to take a bath...I'm just making sure he doesn't fall asleep in it." Not entirely a lie. I leaned down to start nibbling at his neck. "Do you need any help," she asked, unsure. "No," Vaughn practically yelped. "I'm fine Agent Scully," he added hurriedly, his voice threatening to break as I continued to push into him insistently. She hesitated a moment before mumbling something and moving away from the door. I paused long enough to listen for the sound of the door to her room shutting. As soon as it did, Vaughn's fist connected with my shoulder. "Have you lost your fucking mind," he hissed angrily. I would have laughed, but...hell, even weakened by illness and fever he can punch *hard*. "Would you relax," I said with a pained laugh. "What are you so afraid of?" He shook his head, exasperated, and rolled it to one side, staring fixedly at something to his right and quietly seething. I dropped the playful act. "Okay, I'm sorry," I said seriously. "I shouldn't have done that." He pretended to ignore me. I've always teased him about things like that being a sign that his inner woman is having a "moment". Obviously it was time to try another approach. I continued to thrust into him leisurely, varying the depth of my thrusts until I dragged a groan out of him. His eyes widened and he bit his lip to keep from making any more noises Scully might hear. I was sure he didn't have to worry about that anymore since she probably already knew he was more than just a "friend" to me, but I decided to let him believe she was clueless for a while longer. I stopped thrusting suddenly and just held still, buried deep inside him, while I waited for his eyes to meet mine. When they did, I asked, "Do you want to finish this or not?" "I have a gun, Mulder," he hissed through clenched teeth. I decided to take that as a 'yes'. I pulled out and plunged back into him hard, forcing a muffled cry from his lips. He was struggling so hard to keep from making any noise that I finally decided to cut him some slack and just play along. I balanced myself on one hand above him and pressed the other over his mouth. He shot me a grateful look and moaned deeply. After a couple thrusts, I shifted slightly to change the angle, aiming more directly at his prostate. Vaughn's body jerked violently and he wailed into my hand. It only took a few more thrusts before he came, splashing semen all over his abdomen. I removed my hand from his mouth so I could listen to his breathless gasps and the whisper-soft noises of pleasure that he always makes. His orgasm triggered mine. I shouted once - softly - as I filled him to overflowing. I managed to pull out and roll over before I collapsed on top of him. He whimpered a weak protest, but didn't try to stop me. When I had sufficiently regained my strength, I reached for the washcloth I had left in the tub and tried to clean up the worst of the mess. Vaughn watched with heavy-lidded eyes as I dragged the cloth over his abdomen and hissed as I brushed it against his swollen anus. I abandoned the cloth to trace my fingers gently around the tender opening, pressing the tip of my middle finger just barely inside and swirling it through the moisture leaking from him. He hummed contentedly and spread his legs wider to give me better access. I stilled my hand and leaned in to press a kiss to his inviting lips. "We should probably get you back to bed," I murmured reluctantly. He groaned and nodded. I helped him get up and put his boxers back on. He waited patiently while I drained the bathtub and cleaned up a little, then he leaned on me as we walked back to the bedroom. I got him settled into bed before I climbed in beside him. "The door," he protested. "She won't come in, don't worry," I reassured him. He rolled his eyes tiredly and I knew he didn't believe me, he just didn't want to argue with me any more. I kissed his forehead softly. "Go to sleep." *********** I must have drifted off immediately after he did. When I woke up, I was on my side, spooned up against Vaughn's back. I realized what must have woken me when Vaughn mumbled in his sleep and shifted closer, rubbing his ass against my cock... which had obviously been awake for quite some time already. I held back a groan, not wanting to wake him. Then I smiled as I thought of a very tempting way to do just that. I reached my arm back behind me and slowly and quietly opened the drawer on the bedside table. I rolled away from him carefully to reach the tube of lubricant and one of the condoms in the drawer and drew them out. He stirred slightly, but didn't wake up. I got the condom on in record time. I slathered a generous amount of lube on myself and carefully removed his boxers before using two fingers to gently stretch him. He moaned in his sleep and pressed his hips back into me. Thankfully, his muscles were still loosened from earlier and I was able to slide in smoothly without much preparation. He frowned, still half asleep, and mumbled, "Mulder?" "Mmm-hmm," I replied softly as I began to thrust into him in long, slow strokes. He gasped as he woke fully and arched his back with a low, husky moan. "Oh god...Mulder..." "How do you like your wake-up call," I asked playfully. He smiled and hummed an agreement. I rolled us over slightly so I could put a little more force behind my thrusts and he growled his approval. It wasn't long before we were both panting and sweating. His hips rolled to meet my every thrust as I slammed into him, gaining speed. By the tiny gasping noises he made and the rhythmic clench of his muscles I knew he was close. I almost didn't hear the door to Scully's room open. I froze in mid-thrust, but it was too late. Vaughn was already coming. "Ah, god," he gasped, totally oblivious to Scully's presence. "Mulder!" He arched into me, trembling as he exploded into the sheets below. Scully stood frozen in the open doorway, her mouth open slightly and her eyes wide with bewilderment. Even though I was sure she had already suspected what was going on between Vaughn and I, she probably never expected to have her suspicions confirmed like *this*. There was no turning back anymore. The need to come was quickly surpassing my embarrassment. If she wasn't going to leave, she would just have to watch the live show. I pulled out and rolled Vaughn onto his back. Then I hooked my arms under his knees, lifting and spreading his legs, and plunged back into him before he had a chance to recover. He arched his back and shouted, clawing at the bed sheets frantically as the change in angle caused me to slam into his prostate with every thrust. "Oh god," he moaned. "'m gonna...come...again." "I know," I gasped. "Let it happen." He grunted and lifted his hips as far as he could in his position to meet my thrusts. His head fell back on the bed and his chest heaved with his labored breaths. I started pushing harder, slamming into him with enough force to make the metal bedposts hit the wall with a *thump* on every in-stroke. I was precariously close to coming and I wanted him to be there with me. He cried out as he fell over the edge, hips jerking against me, semen splashing over his stomach. This time, his clenching muscles pulled me right over with him and I shouted as I emptied myself inside him. /Well, if she didn't know already, she'd certainly know now,/ I thought when my brain returned to its normal functioning. There was no way she could have mistaken the noises we were making. I looked towards the door. It was shut - she was gone. I hadn't even heard her leave. ************ I waited until Vaughn fell asleep again before I hesitantly crept out of bed, threw some clothes on and went into her room. She was sitting on her bed reading a book. I took a deep breath, preparing to explain everything to her, but she didn't give me a chance. "I thought I'd check to see how he was doing," she said before she looked up at me. "I didn't realize I was interrupting anything." I just blinked at her stupidly. "You're not upset," I asked warily. She raised one eyebrow and asked, "Should I be?" Then she sighed and put her book down. "I *am* a bit surprised that the buxom blonde I had assumed you were seeing is actually a dark- haired CIA agent named *Michael*." I began shuffling nervously. "I just thought...I don't know, that maybe you'd be jealous," I mumbled guiltily. She smirked. "He's cute, but I don't think he's my type." I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. "You know what I meant." "Come here," she said seriously. I obeyed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She rearranged herself so that she was sitting facing me. "Honestly? I'm relieved," she admitted. "Do you know how hard it is to be in a relationship...a friendship...that is so close that everybody else expects it to turn into something sexual when that's not what *you* want it to be?" I'd swear I could actually feel a knife slamming into my gut. She sensed this and softened immediately. "Mulder, what I'm trying to say is that I value our friendship too much to risk losing it by sleeping with you." "So, you think you won't have to worry about it if I'm gay." She cocked her head slightly and squinted at me. "Are you?" I sighed and rubbed at my suddenly aching forehead. "I don't know...I don't know what to think." Scully moved closer to me and put her hand on my arm. "I know you Mulder. I can tell you have feelings for him. You just have to figure out how deep they go." She smiled softly. "Have you talked to him about it?" I laughed mirthlessly. "He's not exactly a touchy-feely, let's-talk-about-our-relationship kind of person." "It doesn't matter," she insisted. "You deserve to know - both of you - what you're getting into here." I paused for a moment. She was right, of course, but my discovery that she was never romantically interested in me only solved half the problem. "There's someone else," I said softly. "Who," she asked. "A woman he works with. I think he may be in love with her." Scully frowned as she considered this new dilemma. "He talks about her...he says her name in his sleep. He thinks the world of her, he's always telling me how amazing she is. I feel like I'm competing with her for his attention." "But?" I shrugged. "She's a mole in an enemy agency. He told me once that they could never have a relationship without risking death if the agency found out that she knew him." Scully blew out a heavy breath. "Yeah. But if they ever destroy that agency...all of that's gonna change." She sighed. "Mulder, I don't know Agent Vaughn as well as you do, but do you really think he would pursue a relationship with you just as a way to get by until the situation changes?" I thought about it for a moment. "I honestly don't know." She leaned closer to me and looked me in the eye. "Then you need to ask him." *************** VAUGHN I don't like waking up to unfamiliar surroundings. Being a trained spy only makes it that much more difficult to deal with. I ignored the instinct that told me to remain still until I was sure it was safe and tried to sit up. Bad idea. I groaned as I fell back to the bed. I caught Mulder's scent lingering on the sheets and remembered what had happened. My ass was throbbing. As was my thigh. I was too tired and too sore to attempt getting up again, so I just rolled over and buried my face in his pillow, breathing in his scent. I heard a door open behind me and smiled. "Where were you," I called over my shoulder. "Come back to bed." My smile faded as my invitation was greeted by a long silence. "Agent Vaughn," a soft, distinctly female voice asked hesitantly. Oh shit. I bolted upright - aching body be damned - and clutched the sheets tightly to my waist. "Agent Scully," I began sheepishly. "This isn't what it looks like..." Oh, who am I kidding? She can't possibly be that stupid. "Don't worry," she interrupted, holding up one hand to halt my pathetic attempt at an explanation. "I already know Agent Mulder is sleeping with you." Goddamn it, why doesn't anybody ever listen to me? "He told you," I asked. She shifted nervously and blushed. "Actually, no...I figured it out on my own." I was tempted to ask for further clarification, but somehow I didn't think I really wanted to know. She tentatively moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed. "In fact, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she continued. She paused to take a deep breath. "What are your intentions here?" "Excuse me," I asked, blinking stupidly. She sighed. "Look, Mulder is my partner. He's also my best friend. I would take a bullet for him. I don't want to see him hurt." "What do you mean?" I cringed inwardly as I realized how dumb I must have sounded. "Sydney," she said simply and I had to resist the urge to leap out of bed, find Mulder and kill him. "He tell you about her," I asked calmly as I imagined wrapping my hands around his throat. "Actually...you did." I felt my eyes widen in surprise. "You were feverish and delusional last night. You said her name several times." Great. Some spy I am. One little fever and I start blabbing classified intel. I really should never be allowed to go into the field again. "Mulder told me you work with her," Agent Scully continued. "He also thinks you might be in love with her, but that 'a bunch of men with big guns' are keeping you from her. I just want to make sure that you're not using Mulder as some sort of... *substitute* until those men are gone." I opened my mouth to correct her - to tell her that part of the reason I had arrived early this weekend was my eagerness to give Mulder the news that the Alliance had been destroyed. But then I hesitated. Was that what Mulder thought I was doing? "I guess I've never considered it a possibility," I said finally. She cocked an eyebrow at me, as if she were challenging me to prove her wrong. "Agent Scully...all this 'agent' stuff is starting to sound a little too formal, can I call you Dana?" The corner of her mouth twitched in a lopsided smile. "Only if I can call you Michael," she replied. I smiled. I had a feeling I was going to like her. "Fair enough. I can understand - and appreciate - that you want to protect Mulder. I know if I were you and I thought someone was using Sydney like that, I'd be driving myself crazy. But..." But what? "I can assure you that that is not what I'm doing." Where did that come from? She nodded thoughtfully. "Does Sydney know about Mulder?" I laughed. "Well, I haven't told her anything, but I know she suspects something. She keeps giving me this *look* when she asks me about my weekend." She also detected my wince one day when I tried to sit down, but I didn't think Dana needed that much information. "Where is Mulder," I asked, changing the subject. "I sent him to the front office to ask about the road conditions. He should be back soon." She paused and studied me carefully. "How are you feeling?" She pressed her hand to my forehead. "I'm fine," I assured her, trying not to laugh. I had almost forgotten Mulder had told me she was a doctor. "How bad was it?" She sighed. "Well, when you got here, you had a core temperature of ninety degrees. Advanced hypothermia. When we got you warm again, your temp spiked to a-hundred-and-three." She paused. "Basically, you had a rough night." I smiled and gripped her hand lightly. "Thank you for taking care of me." She smiled back. "Well, I did have some help." Mulder chose that moment to come in the door. Dana flashed him a tiny smile. "Speak of the devil," she muttered, turning her attention back to me. She gave me a pat on the arm and winked. "Have fun," she added in a low voice. I could feel my face turning red. I swallowed nervously and tried to quickly clamp down on my embarrassment, hoping Mulder wouldn't notice. "What was that about," Mulder asked warily after Dana left. I shrugged non-commitally. "She just wanted to talk." He waved his hand in a gesture that I had learned meant 'okay, forget I asked'. "What did you find out?" He sighed. "Well, the snowplows are running, but it's going to take them a while to get the roads clear. The snow is piled so high it could bury a small car. Good luck finding yours again." He climbed into bed next to me and brushed his hand along the inside of my thigh. I jerked it away from him with a yelp. "Jesus! Your hands are cold!" He laughed and wrestled me into a supine position in ten seconds flat - although that's only because I wasn't struggling very hard. I chuckled along with him, but the laughter died in our throats as his clothed erection came into contact with mine. "Uncle," I whispered before his mouth covered mine, his tongue plunging inside. I returned his enthusiasm as I pulled my arms from his grip and reached down to remove his clothes. It wasn't long before we were both naked and my legs were wrapped around his waist as he pushed inside me. I'll never forget the first time we did this. Even with the alcohol dulling my senses, it had hurt like hell. But now, for the first time, I noticed that while it had never completely disappeared, the pain had reduced itself to a dull discomfort that I barely even registered. Mulder eased himself down on his elbows and anchored his hands firmly in my hair, holding my head still. "Ready," he asked softly. I nodded and he gave one firm thrust that effectively pushed all of the remaining air from my lungs. All I could do was gasp and clutch at his shoulders tightly. It wasn't long before I came. My back arching, ignoring the pain in my scalp as I pulled against his tight grip. I heard my own voice as if from a distance, moaning as the spasms hit me hard. I heard Mulder groan loudly in my ear as he followed. He kissed up and down my neck for a minute before he finally let go of my hair and collapsed on top of me. As I lay there recovering, my conversation with Agent Scully came flooding back to me. What *was* I doing? Why did I keep coming back? I had come here excited at the idea of telling Mulder about the victory Sydney and I had won over our long time antagonists, but every time I thought of bringing it up, I hesitated. Maybe I was afraid of what would happen once that last barrier was taken away, of what I would have to admit and the leap I would have to make. I realized that even though Mulder's weight on top of me was pushing uncomfortably on my ribs, I didn't want him to move. I could still feel his cock deflating inside me and that feeling brought about a revelation. Mulder made me feel complete. Moreso than anyone else I'd ever been with. But what the hell did that *mean*? "Agent Scully knows," I blurted unexpectedly. Mulder didn't seem surprised. He propped himself up again and started playing idly with my nipples. "I know." "How?" I moaned as he pulled out of me and began licking semen from my stomach. "She walked in on us earlier," he said simply. Instead of being mortified at being caught in the act, all I could think of was the fact that I, a senior agent of the CIA, had not known she was there. Had she been an assassin, I would have been dead. I could almost *hear* my father rolling over in his grave. "You didn't notice because you were too busy screaming my name in ecstasy," he cracked. Oh, yeah, that's *much* better. I almost wished she *had* been an assassin. It was a good thing I hadn't known that earlier, or I probably wouldn't have been able to look her in the eye knowing she had seen me having an orgasm courtesy of her partner. Wait a minute... "And you didn't stop," I asked in disbelief. "Well, it was too late for *you*," he replied with a smirk. "And you," I asked warily. He didn't answer. He just continued to smirk at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Oh god," I groaned, rolling away from him. Some first impression I had made on her. First I show up out of nowhere, half-dead from exposure, then she got to watch while her partner fucked me like a cheap hooker. 'Kill me now,' I thought miserably. Unfortunately, the fever had drained me of most of my energy, so the very *thought* of getting out of bed, putting my clothes on and going outside to dig my car out of the snow was exhausting. Mulder seemed to sense this. He spooned up against my back and rubbed my arms reassuringly. "Rest," he whispered. "You can kick my ass later." 'Yeah, very funny. Keep pushing your luck, Spooky,' I thought as I fell asleep. ********* MULDER I awoke to the sound of a cell phone ringing. I groaned and stumbled out of bed, reaching for the pants that were draped over a nearby chair. I wrestled the phone out of its pocket and hit the answer button, cutting off the offending ring, and brought it to my ear. "Mulder," I answered sleepily. I was greeted by a long silence. I was about to open my mouth to try again when a distinctly female voice replied tentatively. "Hello? Who is this?" I blinked and looked down at the pants I was holding in my hand. They weren't mine. I swore under my breath. I had never noticed that Vaughn had the same cell phone I did. "Is this Sydney," I asked before I could think it through. The voice hardened instantly. "Who are you? What have you done with Vaughn?" I got the distinct impression that had we been face to face I would have been in serious danger of losing a limb. "He's fine," I assured her quickly. "He's right here. He's sleeping." Although how he could sleep through all this I had no idea. "Wake him," she demanded. "I want to talk to him." I could appreciate the way she was reacting. If some stranger had answered Scully's phone and called me by name I would probably jump to the same conclusions. I tried to make my voice sound as non-threatening as possible. "He's had a pretty rough night. I really don't think I should wake him right now." I should have known that was the wrong thing to say the second it left my mouth. "Put him on the phone," she practically shouted, startling me into action. "Okay, okay," I muttered under my breath as I sat on the bed beside Vaughn and shook him gently. He groaned and curled himself into a tighter ball. "Vaughn," I called softly. "Wake up." He rolled onto his back reluctantly and blinked up at me in confusion. I held the phone out to him and said, "It's Sydney." His eyes widened and he sat up on the bed, instantly alert, snatching the phone from me. "Syd?" His voice was still thick with sleep. He rubbed at his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine, I...what?" He shot me a withering glance. "Oh, uh...he's...the friend I told you about." I cocked an eyebrow at him in amusement. Friend, huh? I grabbed a handful of blankets and began dragging them slowly from him. He ignored me. "Ah...I'm in Minnesota." He flinched at her obvious displeasure with that answer. "I came here to see Agent Mulder. I got the rental car stuck in a blizzard last night so I'm kind of trapped here for now." When he was completely free of the covers, I wrapped my hand around his half-hard length. The hand not holding his phone smacked into the side of my head so hard I felt my teeth rattle. "I told you, he's a friend," he continued as if nothing had happened. He shot me a warning look and mouthed 'no!' His eyes widened in shock, his jaw nearly falling into his lap seconds later as I secured his free hand to the headboard with my handcuffs. "Uh...I had a fever...and hypothermia." I straddled him, sitting on his lap, and refocused my attentions on his chest. "Yeah, I'm okay." He bucked his hips, trying to throw me off but failing. "I think I'm gonna stay here for a while longer. I'm not sure I'm up to flying yet." He sucked in a sharp breath as I flicked his nipples with my nails. I leaned down and sucked them into my mouth one at a time, my fingers dancing lightly up and down his stomach. "You didn't get my message," he asked, managing to control his voice. I smirked and trailed wet kisses down his skin. "What about Weiss?" He stiffened as I grew closer to the part of him that was now throbbing in anticipation. He groaned. "He's gonna turn that dog into a blimp no matter what I say..." He grunted softly as my lips wrapped around the head of his cock. "Yeah, well, you can tell him I'm not paying for it. I left enough food to last until Wednesday." He pulled at the handcuffs and gasped softly, bucking his hips as I took him deeper in my mouth and started to suck. "Fox," he choked. I looked up at him in surprise until I realized he was still talking to Sydney. "Yeah..." he chuckled softly. "He's glaring at me right now." Go ahead, I thought as I engulfed him again. Tell her what else I'm doing. "It never came up," he said and I quelled the urge to snort. Oh, it's coming up just fine, actually, I thought. He shifted and emitted a low whine. "What? Yeah I'm...fine," he ground out. I smirked. I was finally getting him to crack. "I just...I have to go, Syd." I gathered his testicles in one hand and began rubbing circles on the tight skin sac. He coughed to cover the noise of pleasure he could no longer hold back. "Yeah...okay...I will." He disconnected quickly and slammed the phone against the mattress. "Damnit Mulder, did you have to do that?" I looked up at his harsh tone, blinking innocently. "What?" He rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Can you take these off now?" He tugged at the handcuffs pointedly. I smirked and gently removed the cell phone from his grip. "I have a better idea. Lay down." He sighed as a show of annoyance and slowly maneuvered himself into a comfortable reclining position. I retrieved the keys from the table, dropping the phone in their place, and managed to secure both of his wrists to the bed within seconds. He started to protest, but his words were muffled as my hand clamped over his mouth. "You want me to gag you too," I asked playfully. His eyes darkened but he shook his head. "Good," I murmured. "Did you lock the door," Vaughn asked breathlessly as I continued my meandering exploration of his naked body. "Don't worry about it," I said into his navel before dipping my tongue in and out in a suggestive rhythm. Vaughn groaned. "What did she want," I asked lightly as I abandoned his navel and slowly worked my way downward. "Nothing," Vaughn gasped. "Just...checking in..." He faltered as I spread his legs apart, tilting his hips to expose his well-stretched opening to the chilled air. "Was worried... about me," he hissed, his words dissolving into a helpless moan as I ran my tongue down the inside of his thigh. I playfully licked at his quivering entrance, then gagged and spat a mouthful of lubricant and semen onto the hotel sheets making a mental note to purchase some edible lubricants in the future. Vaughn laughed, his eyes sparkling with wicked delight. I shot him a withering glare. "Are you finished?" Vaughn pressed his lips together firmly, sealing in his chuckles. He nodded, his shoulders shaking with repressed mirth. I rolled my eyes and climbed over him, plunging myself into him with no further preamble. He moaned and tugged against his bindings. "Please, Mulder," he pleaded, the laughter still dancing in his eyes even as the pleasure began to take over his senses. "Take the cuffs off." "No," I said dryly. "I kind of like having you like this. All hot and bothered and completely at my mercy." His eyes darkened. "You'll regret this." "Is that a promise," I smirked. I punctuated my words with a sharp thrust, battering his tender prostate. He yelped, twisting frantically beneath me, bucking his hips mindlessly. "You liked that, huh," I asked huskily. "For god's sake, just fuck me," he hissed. "Only if you ask nicely," I teased. "Fuck you." I shrugged. "All right. Have it your way." I pulled out of him and moved to get out of the bed. I didn't get far before his strong legs wrapped around my waist in a vice grip, preventing me from moving. "Damn it, you son of a bitch," he snapped. "You are not going to leave me like this!" "Tough words coming from a man who is handcuffed naked to a hotel bed," I said with a lazy smile. Admittedly, I was almost painfully hard and wanted to finish it as much as he did. However, I wanted to see him beg me for it even more. "I can insure you never please another living being without the use of my hands," he growled. Oddly, Little Mulder did not flag even the slightest at this threat to his well being. In fact, he twitched even more urgently, eager to be inside the man currently threatening the very basis of my manhood. I smirked and reached my hand out to stroke his cock. His eyes rolled back in his head and his body relaxed instinctively, his thighs loosening their grip. I ducked away quickly and grinned as he yelped in outrage. "Now beg nicely," I said sweetly. "I could kill you with one hand tied behind my back," he spat. I tsked softly. "We both know you won't. Now be a good boy and daddy will give you a reward." "You're sick, Mulder," he grumbled. I shrugged. "Yeah, but you love me for it." He opened his mouth to reply, but a soft knock on the door to Scully's room interrupted him. I pulled my boxers on and moved to answer it. "Agent Doggett just called," she said when I opened the door, carefully positioning myself to block her view of the bed. "He's at another crime scene. He says there's something we need to see there. Can you be ready to go in ten minutes?" I glanced over my shoulder. Vaughn was tugging at the handcuffs determinedly. "Better make it fifteen," I said. She rolled her eyes and shut the door. A resigned moan drifted from the bed. "Mulder..." I crept to his side hesitantly, making sure that he wouldn't lash out at me again. I trailed my fingertips across his lips, over his chin and down his chest and stomach, skirting around his throbbing length and tight sac to press lightly against his clenching opening. He moaned brokenly and thrust his hips upward futilely. "Are you going to ask nicely this time," I asked. He groaned in frustration. "Damnit, *please* fuck me...please, I need..." He cried out as I repositioned myself between his legs and thrust inside him, cutting him off mid-sentence. It didn't take long for us to finish. He screamed when he came, not caring (or possibly not even remembering) that Scully was right next door. I retrieved the handcuff keys and freed him, kissing the angry red marks on his wrists in silent apology. I pressed a last kiss to his trembling lips and murmured. "Get dressed." ***** VAUGHN When we emerged from the hotel room twenty minutes later, Dana was already standing next to the rental car she and Mulder shared. She took in my disheveled appearance and visibly tried to hide her amusement. I narrowed my eyes at her. "Not a word," I muttered. She just smiled. She climbed into the passenger's seat as Mulder got behind the wheel. I stood outside for a few moments, checking to make sure my wallet and gun were secure and pretending not to hear her scold Mulder about "taking it easy" on me. I submitted to Dana fussing over me during the drive, continually grilling me about my health. I assured her I was fine and held back a groan as she began straightening my hair and tie. At least I wouldn't look quite so much like I had just rolled out of bed after several bouts of sex. An hour later, we arrived at a hotel in downtown Minneapolis, a city that would have felt like New York if not for the sub- zero wind-chill and the lack of the constant noise of car horns and people shouting curses at each other. As I had no desire to stay in the car and freeze, I followed Mulder and Dana into the building and up to the fifth floor. At least a half-dozen police and FBI agents were already swarming the hallway. Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off one of the rooms. "Agent Scully," a voice called out. I looked up to see a dark haired, severe looking man approach. "Mulder," he added, nodding in Mulder's direction. He looked me up and down quizzically. "Agent Doggett, this is Agent Vaughn," Mulder said. "Vaughn, this is John Doggett, he works on the X-Files with us." I shook his hand with a nervous smile, wondering why Mulder didn't mention I was CIA, not FBI as Agent Doggett would likely assume. Dana quickly changed the subject. "You said this is related to our investigation up north?" Agent Doggett nodded. "The vic is Roberto Giavani," he said as he walked back toward the open hotel room, motioning for Mulder and Dana to follow. I held back for a moment. This was not my jurisdiction, I had no business being here. But it wouldn't hurt to have a look...would it? Maybe I could provide some sort of assistance. I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I entered the room. The corpse was sprawled on the bed, fully dressed. From the look of it I would have guessed rigor mortis had set in long ago. His body faced the window, but his head had been violently twisted around backwards so that it faced the opposing door. His face was frozen in a grotesque mask of sheer terror. "Let me guess, he was scared to death," Mulder asked wryly. Sick bastard. "His neck was broken," Agent Doggett replied flatly. "I've got five witnesses that say nobody entered or left this room all night." "Fire escape," Dana asked. "No fire escape, no ledge, nothing, just a five story drop to the sidewalk." "Well, he obviously didn't do this to himself," Dana muttered as she produced a pair of rubber gloves seemingly out of nowhere and tugged them on before stepping closer to the bed to inspect the body. "You guys have a suspect on your case yet," Agent Doggett asked. "Yeah, we do," Mulder replied flatly. "Unfortunately, he died in a raid yesterday. Does the hotel have security cameras?" "Yeah, we're already working on getting the tapes, but they only cover the lobby and the stairwells, so we probably won't get much off 'em..." Agent Doggett trailed off as he saw me staring at the body. "Who did you say you were again?" "Uh...Michael...Vaughn," I stuttered, unnerved by his hard, scrutinizing look. "And you're here because..." "He's a friend of mine," Mulder interjected. "He's just along for the ride. He won't get in the way, right Agent Vaughn?" "Yeah," I muttered. Point taken. I shuffled into the corner of the room behind Dana - the only place where I would be out of the way and not have to look at the horrifying face of the corpse. I watched her poke and prod methodically at it for a while, catching snippets of Mulder's conversation with Agent Doggett. Agent Doggett was obviously chastising Mulder for going against protocol by bringing me to a crime scene. "Don't let him get to you," Dana said with a slight smile. "His bark is worse than his bite." I gave her a halfhearted smile, then froze as something caught my eye. I stepped closer to the bed, leaning over Dana's shoulder, and indicated the small design between the corpse's left thumb and index finger. "Did your other victim have one of these?" "No, I've never seen it before. It looks like some sort of cult symbol..." "Mulder," I blurted. "Come here for a second?" Mulder frowned in confusion, but moved to follow me as I stepped away from Dana. She watched us curiously for a moment before returning to her examination. "Remember that 16th century prophet I told you about," I asked in an urgent whisper. "All intel on him is classified. This man was one of his followers." Mulder seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. "Vaughn, if the CIA were worried about us finding this man we wouldn't be here. You should know how good they are at cover-ups. From what we've seen so far, this case has nothing to do with some ancient cult." I bit my tongue, frustrated. I wanted to ask for more details, but I knew I wouldn't be getting them. At least not now, with a dozen police officers and FBI agents around us. "What did you find," Mulder continued, this time addressing Dana. "Multiple bruises and superficial wounds to the upper body," she murmured distractedly. "Obvious signs of a struggle. I won't know if the broken neck was the cause of death or if it was done post-mortem until I can do a full autopsy." "What're we waiting for then," Mulder asked in an oddly chipper voice. **** "What's going on here," I asked as soon as we were back in the car. This time, Dana was behind the wheel. "The first victim was found more or less in the same condition as Mr. Giavani," Mulder explained casually. "The killer decapitated him and put his head on backwards with industrial glue. Except there was a witness. He identified the killer as Frank Douglas. We raided Frank's apartment yesterday. He opened fire..." He trailed off, leaving me to fill in the blanks with his earlier mention of the suspect's death. "Well, unless he's murdering people from the grave you seem to have gotten the wrong guy," I said. "Exactly," Mulder said with a knowing twinkle in his eye. I stared at him in silence for a good thirty seconds, trying to figure out if he was really saying what I thought he was saying. "You think Douglas killed this guy?" Mulder smirked. "Yep." My eyes met Dana's in the rearview mirror. "Is he serious?" The corner of her lips twitched in mild amusement, counterbalancing the long-suffering look in her eyes. Then she refocused her attention on driving. "Have you tried contacting the witness again," I asked. "Maybe he could -" "We could try that," Mulder interrupted, turning sideways in his seat to look back at me. "But we'd need a medium." He paused for a moment, seemingly savoring my growing confusion, before explaining. "The witness was Roberto Giavani." ****** (3 hours later, outside autopsy bay) "You're sure I can't just drive you to your car or a hotel," Mulder offered for a fourth time. "If this case involves a Rambaldi follower I might be able to help you." "You mean you can keep an eye on me," Mulder smiled. "Make sure I don't start poking around in classified information." I sighed. "Mulder, do you honestly believe that a *ghost* killed this man?" "I've seen stranger things," he deadpanned. I opened my mouth to reply, but before I could say anything Dana emerged from the lab, her gloves crumpled in one hand and her surgical mask dangling from her neck. "Cause of death was a broken neck," she confirmed. "But despite obvious signs of a struggle, there was no blood or epidermis under his fingernails. The person he was fighting seems to have left no trace evidence whatsoever." "Dead men tell no tales," Mulder quipped. "Mulder, we had reason to believe that Douglas was not acting alone," she argued gently. "It is possible that his partner is still out there seeking revenge." "Possible," Mulder granted. "But that doesn't explain how he could have gotten in and out of Giavani's room - the door to which, by the way, was locked from the inside - without anyone noticing." There was a long silence as we all stared at each other, unable to come up with a better explanation. "Well," Mulder sighed. "We'll know more once Doggett analyzes those security tapes. Anyone hungry?" ****** We picked up my car on the way back to the hotel. I briefly debated going home. I had been enough of a burden to them already. But I was too involved now to leave. If this case had anything to do with Rambaldi then I was more use to the CIA here than I was at home doing nothing. Weiss and Sydney could take care of any other crisis without my help. Besides, I thought as I drove back to the hotel, I had already planed on spending the weekend with Mulder. Mulder and Dana filled me in on whatever details they could as we sat on Mulder's bed surrounded by boxes of Chinese take- out. I tried not to act too flustered when Mulder insisted on feeding me a bite of his Kung Pao Beef, swiping some spilled sauce from my chin with his thumb. Dana smiled and changed the subject. "So how did you meet Mulder?" "We were at a bar in Los Angeles," Mulder replied before I got the chance. "I offered to buy him a drink or two...or ten." Dana sighed. "Mulder, you agreed you would stop doing that." "I wasn't drinking anything too hard," Mulder protested. "Just enough to kill what inhibitions I may have had. Vaughn here was far more drunk than I was." I stopped chewing and stared at him. In spite of everything that had happened in the last year - all the steps Mulder and I may or may not have taken - the one thing I had taken for granted was that our first night together had been a drunken one-night stand gone wrong. Or right. I still couldn't decide which. I knew he was exaggerating. Even if his drinks had been watered down, he had still had enough for him to be over the legal limit. But now I was faced with the nagging possibility that it hadn't been enough to completely override his senses. He had known exactly what he was doing. Before I could say anything, there was a knock on the door. "Agent Mulder," a muffled voice called. Mulder shoved his dinner into my hands and went to open the door, letting Agent Doggett in the room along with a cold blast of air. "Something's not adding up," the Agent said as he handed Mulder a videotape. "You're going to have to see this for yourself." Mulder brought the tape over to the hotel room's TV/VCR combo without any further questions. Agent Doggett nodded at me in acknowledgment. "Agent Vaughn." It was clear from his tone and body language that he didn't like my being there. I'm sure he only tolerated my presence because Mulder - a man who rarely trusted anyone - seemed to trust me. I nodded back, already beginning to feel respect for him. "What are we looking at here," Mulder asked. I looked at the TV screen, where black and white surveillance footage showed the empty hotel corridor. "This was taken from the camera just down the hall from Giavani's room right around the time of death." Mulder forwarded the tape. Several unsuspecting bystanders passed through an adjoining hall at the end of the corridor. An amorous couple stumbled up to a room just a few doors down the hall from Giavani's, their movements slow and clumsy even when viewed at fast speed, likely due to a combination of alcohol and lust. "I guess we know why they didn't hear anything," Mulder commented with a smirk. "Right there. Stop," Agent Doggett directed. Mulder froze the footage. The man had the woman's back to the door and was reaching one hand beneath the hem of her skirt while she laughed and tried to retrieve the room key from his pocket. Neither of them seemed to notice the large, dark- haired man walking down the hall toward them, a determined and menacing look on his face. Mulder and Dana looked at each other, seemingly having a silent discussion before Mulder verified what Agent Doggett likely already knew. "Yeah, that's Frank Douglas." I stared at him incredulously. "The dead guy?" "You're sure this is the guy," Doggett asked. "Positive. And before you ask, no he did not have a twin brother." "Are you sure they gave you the right tape," Dana asked. "Straight out of the machine," Agent Doggett confirmed. "The time stamp says it was taken last night. Even if it could've been tampered with there's no way anyone could've done this in such a short time without someone noticing. It's too perfect." 'You'd be surprised,' I thought. 'I've seen air tight alibis forged just in the amount of time it took you to analyze this tape.' "It's possible," I said out loud. "If you have the right equipment." The three agents stared at me for several long, silent moments. "Okay, so aside from the possibility that Douglas is part of a CIA operation, what are our options," Mulder finally asked. "You're sure this is the guy you killed," Agent Doggett asked skeptically. "I did the autopsy myself," Dana replied. Mulder hit rewind, playing the sequence again in slow motion. 'There must be some explanation for this,' I thought as I watched Douglas pass by the gyrating couple. "This must have been tampered with," I said. "I know a guy who could take a look at it." "We've already analyzed it," Doggett said dismissively. "There's no signs of tampering." "Yeah, well, no offense Agent Doggett but my guy is one of the best. I'm sure he could find something your analyst may have overlooked." "Hold on, stop right there, Mulder," Dana interrupted, squinting at the screen. Mulder, who had been rewinding the tape again, paused it as Douglas was passing by the amorous couple. "There," she pointed. "She's looking right at him." Mulder nodded. "And yet she claims to have seen nothing." "Look at them," I argued, frustrated. "They probably wouldn't notice if an elephant walked by." "She's shivering," Mulder added. "Most people who report seeing a ghost say they felt a sudden drop in the temperature of the room." He rewound the scene again and sure enough, the woman shuddered as Douglas approached. "Her boyfriend has his hand in her underwear," I pointed out. "It may not have anything to do with the temperature." "And she just happened to look right at Douglas without seeing him two seconds later? Look at her face. She could sense something." On the screen, the woman shivered again, looking up past her lover's shoulder as Douglas walked by, her ardor forgotten momentarily and replaced by something that resembled a mix of confusion and a little bit of fear. Then her boyfriend did something to make her gasp in pleasure and she refocused her attention on him, her apprehension forgotten. "Guess we can go ahead and contact that medium now, Scully," Mulder declared wryly. "Are you serious," I asked. "You're not even going to consider the possibility that this is a hoax?" The corners of Dana's lips twitched as she held back an amused smile. "Did you check the cameras in the lobby," Mulder asked Agent Doggett, ignoring my outburst. "Douglas isn't on any of 'em," Agent Doggett replied, nodding. 'Even more reason to suspect a forgery,' I thought. Although I had to admit that it looked a little too perfect to be fake. Given some of the things I had seen, maybe it wasn't too far fetched to believe that I was seeing something supernatural. Dana took the following awkward silence as her cue to exit. "Well, I'm going to go over Douglas' phone records again," she announced, closing her box of lo mein and throwing her chopsticks in the garbage can. "Hopefully we'll know more once we find his partner." She rested her hand briefly on Mulder's arm as she brushed past him on her way to the door. "John, would you mind helping me?" Agent Doggett blinked at her, seemingly surprised by her eagerness to leave her partner behind with a virtual stranger. "Yeah, of course," he said dazedly, reaching out automatically to help her shrug into her coat. I watched his hand go almost hesitantly to the small of her back as he followed her out the door and to the car. "Over a year and he still hasn't worked up the courage to ask her for a date," Mulder muttered as the door closed behind them. "I don't think you're the right person to be passing that kind of judgment," I retorted. Mulder chuckled and snapped off the television with a sigh, resuming his place next to me on the bed. "Do you honestly believe a ghost killed Giavani," I asked as gently as possible. "I've watched an invisible entity crush a man's windpipe," he replied. At my no doubt dubious look he added, "you've seen strange things in your line of work, right?" I nodded. "Multiply that by a hundred and you'd have only a taste of the sort of things I've seen." I sighed. "Okay, so say this is Douglas' ghost. What's the next step?" "Douglas was paranoid and quick tempered with a flair for the dramatic. He probably turns his victims heads around backwards so they won't look at him. I think he's likely to assume his partner betrayed him and led us to him. I think he might be plotting his revenge." "So why kill the witness," I asked, struggling to follow Mulder's logic. "The witness is also partly responsible, obviously, but I also think he did it to scare his partner. Giavani's death has turned the case into a high profile serial murder. When he hears that the police are looking for Douglas' partner, he'll probably panic. And when people are scared..." "...they're more likely to make a mistake and draw attention," I finished. Mulder nodded. "Making it that much easier for Douglas to find him. Meaning we have to find him first." "Even if you do, how do you plan to stop him," I asked, already dreading the answer. "Most spirits only stay for a specific reason. Sometimes they just don't realize they're dead, but sometimes they have something they feel they have to finish before they can move on - in this case, revenge on the person who caused their death. Once they're done, they usually just disappear. If that doesn't work...well, that's what mediums are for." "What kind of revenge are we talking about here?" "Could be imprisonment, could be murder. We don't know. Given Douglas' nature, I'm thinking he might prefer the poetic justice of getting his partner killed in a police raid much like himself. We'll do our best to keep that from happening." Mulder abruptly snatched my dinner from my hands and set it on the side table. "Scully and Doggett have the search covered. If they need anything, they'll call. In the meantime..." He leered at me suggestively, moving closer until he was practically on top of me. "Mulder, can you ever *not* think about sex?" "With you around? No." I sighed, doing my best to act put upon in spite of my rapidly forming erection. It's pathetic, really, how Pavlovian I can get around him. Our clothes were gone so fast they seemed to actually evaporate. Within minutes he had my legs thrown over his shoulders and his mouth wrapped around me, his tongue doing things that made me claw at the sheets, frantically trying to keep myself from levitating right off the bed. I could hear myself babbling in at least three languages, but I couldn't bring myself to care enough to stop it. I vaguely noted the snap of the ever-present bottle of lubricant before two fingers slipped into me. It should probably have been uncomfortable since he had basically devoted all of the time since I had arrived to fucking me raw, but the things he was doing with his mouth felt so good I probably wouldn't have noticed if my hand had been thrust into a pile of burning coals. He was very obviously avoiding my prostate, but by that point it didn't matter much. My back arched off the bed, every muscle in my body tensing, my breath strangling in my lungs. I only needed one little push and I'd be over the top. Instead I came crashing back down to reality as Mulder abruptly removed his mouth and pinched me. Hard. "You bastard," I gasped as the pain curbed my arousal. To my further annoyance, he grinned. "Just making sure you don't get ahead of me." He licked an agonizingly slow path back up my body. By the time he reached the sensitive spot just behind my ear, I was certain I would fly apart long before he was ready. I could feel my body practically vibrating with tension and re- awakened need and I no longer had the will or the desire to control it. "Wrap your legs around me," he whispered, his tongue doing a wickedly suggestive number on my ear. I followed his direction without hesitation. Then he was pushing inside me in one long, slow plunge that dragged a ragged moan from me. I arched against him, tightening my legs around his hips to draw him closer. He chuckled. "Easy Boyscout. Just relax and let me do the driving." "Easy for you to say," I gasped, running my hands restlessly over his chest. I groaned as he stopped moving. "Think you can go a couple rounds?" "Not if I kill you first," I growled. "*Move*, damnit." Mulder smirked and I had the overwhelming urge to smack him. "I'll take that as a yes." "Mulder, I swear, if you don't..." The rest of my threat died on my lips as he moved, changing his angle so he brushed against my prostate. "Much better," he said softly. He shifted and took hold of my hand, guiding it to my aching cock. I groaned at the welcome stimulation and instinctively began stroking up and down the heated length as Mulder began thrusting at a maddeningly slow pace. He groaned as I began twisting underneath him, arching and straining for release, but unable to reach it. "More," I begged desperately. I made a less than articulate yelping sound as he responded by pulling out entirely. The room spun as he flipped me over onto all fours and plunged back inside. I cried out as the change in angle battered my prostate. He reached his hand around and set to work on my bobbing length. I felt his lips brush my ear. "Better," he asked, his voice husky. I nodded, too far gone for coherent speech. I spun quickly out of control, unable to corral the broken whimpers escaping me in a near constant stream. I no longer worried about letting myself go in front of Mulder - letting myself lose control. I had faith in his ability to be discrete about our relationship. Or at least I had until I found out that Agent Scully had often been just on the other side of a paper thin hotel wall, but since she still wouldn't have known I even existed if I hadn't been so careless I couldn't really fault him for that. It wasn't long before I jerked against his hold, staining the brand new sheets. I vaguely thought about the poor maid who had changed them earlier in the day and wondered what she must think of us. 'Probably muttering about the people in room 1013 inviting their friends over for mass teenage and/or Viagra- induced orgies because there's no way two people could make that much of a mess', I thought with an inward snort. Before I had the chance to catch my breath, Mulder pulled out of me and flipped me onto my back again. I hissed in discomfort as he brought my knees up level with his chest and plunged right back in. He froze. "Am I hurting you?" I shook my head. Okay, so maybe it hurt a little, but it was nothing I couldn't handle and there was enough pleasure mixed with the pain to make me more than happy to let him continue. "Just go easy on me," I warned, my voice breathless and warbling unconvincingly. Not that it mattered, since he almost never heeded my pleas for quarter anyway. He nodded and pulled out, slathering himself with even more lubricant before sliding back in in a slow, smooth motion. "This okay," he whispered, his lips brushing the damp skin at the base of my throat. I wrapped my legs around his lower back. "Perfect," I murmured, my lips brushing the shell of his ear as he worked his way back up my neck to my lips. I sighed into his mouth as his arms curled beneath me, pressing me closer to him as he began a gentle rocking motion. It wasn't thrusting, really. In fact, it could barely be classified as *movement*, but it was enough to stimulate my sensitized body. I began massaging my hands over his chest, thumbs brushing repeatedly at his nipples. "Stop," he hissed through clenched teeth. I ignored him. Two could play at this ridiculous Casanova game he insisted on playing every time we had sex. Thanks to my CIA training, I had an advantage: a habit of noting every painstaking detail about every person I meet. Body language, nervous habits, even the way they like their coffee - anything that I might be able to use to my advantage later. I probably knew more about Mulder than he knew about himself, including what buttons to push to evoke a desired reaction. I stopped playing with his nipples, giving him the brief illusion of victory. Then I threw my head back and let loose a loud, throaty moan. I clutched at his back as if he were the only thing keeping me anchored to the bed. "Oh, god," I gasped, writhing and undulating restlessly. "Mulder! I can't...oh, fuck...Mul-" I stilled as his hand clamped over my mouth, cutting off my best impersonation of a porn star. He had stopped moving entirely and was shooting me a weary look. "Are you finished?" Clearly plan A was a failure. Time to move on to plan B. I nodded and sighed as he removed his hand. "Mulder, please, just come. You don't always have to turn this into a contest to see which of us can have the most orgasms in one night." He smirked and resumed his subtle rocking motion. "I don't know why you're complaining. You always win." I snorted. "Yeah, and then I have to go to work exhausted and sore the next morning and try to come up with a new excuse for not sitting down during long meetings." Mulder sighed. "Fine. If you're just going to complain..." He started to pull out again, but my tight grip didn't allow him to get far. "I never said it was a bad thing," I said softly, smiling up at him in what I hoped was a convincing blend of blushing virgin and challenging seducer. He groaned. "You're going to kill me one of these days." "I'm sure you'll have nobody to blame but yourself," I retorted. "But at least you'll die happy." "Pretty confident in our ability to keep up a satisfying sex life, are we," Mulder asked dryly. "Mmm..." I smiled and let my eyes fall shut with an exaggerated sigh, arching my neck invitingly. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem," I murmured, my voice dropping into a register Mulder had once told me he thought was 'sexy'. Mulder groaned and I mentally shouted in triumph. I ignored the tiny voice in my head that berated me for using sex as a manipulative tool - a skill women have excelled at since the dawn of time. Who said women had to have all the fun anyway? I suddenly understood the appeal. The heady surge of power I felt at being able to bend him to my will was so different from the power I felt at seeing my practice targets in the CIA shooting range shred with a few well-placed bullets or defeating a particularly difficult opponent in hand to hand combat. This was more subtle and complex. It required more sharp wit than brute force. And the resulting rush was both incredibly gratifying and incredibly arousing. 'Damnit,' I thought as a slow burn began to spread outward from deep in my abdomen. 'He's still winning.' "Mulder," I pleaded, only partially keeping up my act. "Stop teasing." "I'm not teasing," he protested. "I just want to make sure you're not too sore in the morning so I don't have to listen to you complain." I glared at him, prompting him to laugh. I felt my hard won control begin to slip away and fought valiantly to hang on to it. "Of all the times you could have chosen to pay attention to a word I say, this is the one you pick?" Mulder smiled at me, obviously reveling in the sudden power shift that had occurred between us. "While I'm at it, maybe I should see if I can find the bug that crawled up your ass." I groaned in exasperation. "Just finish it, please. We can argue about this later." I could feel my remaining control slipping away even faster and I didn't know how much longer I could remain coherent. "Fine, but I'm not going any faster." "Mulder!" The part of me that was still thinking clearly cringed as the word came out in a whiny, desperate tone, taking some of my dignity along with it. Mulder laughed merrily and dropped a light kiss on my forehead. "Just relax." 'I'd like to see you try to relax when you've got a cock tickling your prostate and enough semen to populate a small island in your intestinal tract,' I thought. I moaned as he shifted his angle, fanning the flames already spreading through me. A half an hour later - or maybe it was just a few minutes, I stopped keeping track of the time - he was still moving at the same maddeningly slow pace. I made an inarticulate noise somewhere between a growl and a frustrated sob as his teeth nibbled at my jaw, scraping gently against day-old stubble. "I ca..." I panted. "Please...Mulder...I can't..." "Shh. Just relax," Mulder repeated. His voice was disturbingly calm and soothing. He didn't sound the least bit flustered. My last realization before I gave in to the mindless haze was that I had completely failed. Not only had he successfully made me come unglued for the second time in an hour, he had managed to do so without even breaking a sweat. Mulder reached down and coaxed my left leg from around his waist, wordlessly guiding it down to the mattress. I watched in hazy confusion as he paused in his minute thrusting and shifted so that he straddled my straightened leg, hitching the other one up until my knee was nearly in his armpit. Then he started moving again. He wasn't going any faster than before - although his movements had graduated from subtle rocking to long, slow thrusts - but the change in position increased friction and brought him into direct and constant contact with my prostate. I gasped as I felt the tension build steadily. I heard a voice babble incoherently that I recognized dimly as my own even though I hadn't realized I was talking. "That's it," I heard him murmur distantly, followed by a long, drawn out groan. I squirmed restlessly, searching for something - anything - that would relieve the incredible pressure that started from somewhere between my legs and worked its way up to my chest. My ribs ached as I strained to draw air into my uncooperative lungs. I could have sworn there were actual bolts of electricity snaking through me, gaining speed by the second as each thrust brought me closer to the edge. "Look at me, Vaughn," I heard Mulder plead. "Come on. Open your eyes." When did I close them? I struggled to lift my eyelids and focus on his face. "Almost there," he murmured as he reached to wrap his hand around my bobbing length giving it a firm pull. Almost. Right. I felt my eyes roll up into my head as the first waves of orgasm rolled over me. The slow build up did have certain advantages. I thrashed violently and shouted breathlessly as the deep spasms eclipsed all voluntary functioning, my vision blurred by an intense white light. I may have passed out for a moment. I wasn't aware of anything beyond the bolts of pleasure radiating up my spine. Then the ground beneath me shifted suddenly and I was laying on my side, panting like I had run a mile, shivering as the air cooled the sweat covering every inch of my skin. Mulder's hands soothed my back, pulling me closer to his warm body to ease my shuddering. His cock was still inside me, but I could feel it softening. Apparently he hadn't been as unaffected as I thought, although I had no idea when he had come. I clung to him as he tried to pull away. "You okay," he asked, sounding slightly winded himself. "Fuhngghh." Brilliant. My college English professor would have been proud. He chuckled and kissed my forehead again. "That was amazing." I grunted in agreement, still unable to string two words together, but slowly regaining the ability to think clearly. I was only able to offer a tiny squeak of protest as he pulled his cock out of me, smearing a little streak of lubricant and I didn't want to know what else across the inside of my thigh. I frowned in displeasure and squinted at him. He responded with a chaste kiss to the lips and a promise that he would be right back. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. I shifted around a bit, testing my overworked muscles and determining that, yes, I would be very sore in the morning. Again. I groaned softly as I felt a rivulet of his semen slide down the back of my thigh. Why the hell didn't I push Mulder to keep using condoms every time? They made things at least a little less messy. Mulder returned with a washcloth in hand and mercifully set to work at cleaning me up. I hissed as the rough cloth aggravated sensitive skin in spite of his attempts to be gentle. He murmured an apology and kissed each affected area before moving to the next. When he was satisfied, he crawled back into the bed and started jostling and rearranging me until I was half-sprawled over him, using him as a full body pillow. "Comfy?" I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "It'll do," he replied, clearly amused. "Try to get some sleep. I'll wake you if I hear anything." I hummed sleepily and let my body relax - my limbs becoming heavy as I sank into Mulder's welcoming warmth. Then something Mulder had said earlier flashed through my mind and all thoughts of sleep were forgotten. Our sex life? Did anybody other than long-term couples use that expression? It seemed like a silly thing to be worrying about, but I couldn't seem to stop the implications swirling around in my head. Words like commitment and...love. We had been together for over a year, but I had never considered our relationship to be anything really serious. Then again, maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all. My thoughts were interrupted by a soft snore. Mulder had fallen asleep, completely oblivious to the fact that I was still wide awake and the lamp beside the bed was still on. I rolled my eyes and reached one lead-weighted arm out to snap off the light. I settled back against him and ran my hand idly over his chest. His arm tightened around me reflexively but he didn't awaken. I sighed. I could worry about this later. ******* I awoke to the feel of fingers drawing light patterns across my stomach. "Mmm, not now, honey, I have a headache," I mumbled. "Don't worry, this isn't that kind of wake-up call," Mulder reassured me. I sighed and relaxed as his lips began following the trail his fingers made. For once, his attentions didn't seem meant to arouse. Instead they felt more...reverent. I reached blindly for his shoulders and paused when my hands brushed polyester. I blinked my eyes open, forcing myself closer to full consciousness. "You're dressed," I noted dumbly. "Very astute observation. I can see why the CIA recruited you," he joked. "What time is it?" "Seven-thirty." "How long have you been up?" "I don't sleep much. You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you." "So why did you?" "Scully just called. They found Douglas' partner. I thought you might want to shower before we leave." That brought me to full alertness. "Where," I asked as I de- tangled myself from the sheets and scrambled to retrieve my scattered clothes. "She has a house near the edge of town." I paused. "The partner is a woman?" "A real Bonnie and Clyde," he confirmed. "Bonnie and Clyde were bank robbers." "We'll argue criminology references after you take a shower and get dressed." I rolled my eyes and headed for the hotel bathroom as Mulder finished packing his things. ****** Maria Carlos might have been a beautiful woman. She was a tall, thin, twenty-something Latina with dark, hypnotic eyes. But if one looked closer, they could see the dark bruises marring her too-prominent cheekbones. Her eyes were bloodshot, telegraphing a perpetual state of paranoia and distrust. Even as she sat on the weather-beaten couch in her living room her entire body seemed to vibrate. Classic symptoms of drug addiction. I stood by the doorway, watching as Mulder interrogated the young woman. Agent Doggett stood guard on the front lawn, waiting for back-up to arrive. Dana had just disappeared upstairs in search of evidence. In the last fifteen minutes, the woman had revealed nothing except a deep hatred she and her dead partner shared for cops and the federal government. Maria lit her second cigarette of the interview and took a long drag, exhaling the smoke into the already dense cloud forming around her. "He just gonna stand there," she asked, sneering in my direction. "Has anything unusual happened to you in the past few days," Mulder asked, ignoring her question. "I'm not answerin' shit 'til you tell me what the fuck he's doin' here," she snapped, gripping her cigarette so hard it was nearly crushed between her bony fingers. "He's not FBI, he's with me," Mulder answered. By his tone he was clearly frustrated by the decidedly unproductive nature of the interview so far. "What, he's your bodyguard," she asked, smirking in amusement. "No, he's more like a friend," Mulder replied impatiently. "Now has anything unusual happened around here in the last couple of days?" Maria ignored him again, her eyes roving up and down my body with an unnerving leer. This was going nowhere. "Ms. Carlos, my name is Michael Vaughn," I interrupted, moving slowly across the room so as not to agitate her. I waved at the threadbare cushions next to her. "Do you mind?" Her eyes flashed for a moment, warmth seeping into their cold, dark depths and she shook her head. I had seen that look many times in the past years - mostly from a distance as I watched Sydney on missions. I had always wanted to strangle the lust- stupid men who looked at Sydney like that. Now, directed at me, I saw it as an opportunity to press an advantage. I sat beside her, purposely placing myself well within her personal space and leaned in, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "Were you and Mr. Douglas close," I asked, consciously keeping my voice low and soothing. "He was all I had," she said softly, her voice laced with bitterness and contempt. "Have you noticed anything strange since he died?" Her eyes darted to Mulder. "What the fuck are you people on about?" "Have you seen anything out of the ordinary," Mulder interjected. "Any personal effects disappearing or changing locations? Have you felt an unexplained presence in the house?" "What the fuck kind of question is that," she asked in disbelief. "We have reason to suspect Douglas is still a danger to you," I explained carefully. "But...he's dead." "We know that," I said patiently. Her bloodshot eyes darted back and forth between Mulder and I as her chemically addled brain tried sluggishly to piece together the facts. When it all finally came together she burst into laughter, the raspy sound harsh and abrasive. "His *ghost* is after me? You people are fuckin' whack jobs. You sure you're FBI?" Before either of us could answer, a muffled thump sounded from upstairs. Mulder and I looked at each other in silence for a moment before he stood and moved to the staircase. "Stay with her," he instructed, waving at Maria. Then he disappeared up the stairs, reaching for his gun as he stepped out of Maria's line of sight. "Y'all are wrong anyhow," Maria muttered after he left. "How so," I asked distractedly. "Frank would never hurt me. He loved me." "Even if he thought you were the reason the FBI caught him," I asked warily. She laughed again, the unnerving sound bouncing dully off the stained walls. "My baby knew I wouldn't do him like that." Another muffled thump sounded from upstairs. A feeling of overwhelming dread washed over me as a horrible alternative explanation came to me in a blinding flash of realization. What if Carlos was not the target? What if she was just a lure being used to draw out Mulder and Dana - the agents who lead the raid that had killed Douglas? I was off the couch and running up the stairs before I even finished the thought, weapon drawn and heart pounding. 'What if I'm too late?' I barely made it to the top of the steps before a hand grabbed my outstretched arms, using my forward momentum to propel me into the far wall and knocking the gun from my hands. I spun around, arm up, aiming to drive my elbow into my attacker's collarbone...only to find empty air. 'Douglas,' I thought frantically, even as the logical side of my mind railed at the absurdity of being assaulted by a dead man. White light exploded behind my eyes, filling my vision as my head was slammed into the wall. Tears sprang to my eyes at the incredible pain as I fought to remain conscious. Then I felt hands around my throat, choking me. I flailed, my hands searching for my phantom attacker. If I could just find his wrists, I knew I could dislodge his hold. But my hands just passed uselessly through the air, finding no resistance. In that moment, I realized two things. The first was that all of my CIA combat training did not prepare me for this. I could fight men twice my size and win - in fact I had done it before - but none of the skills I had learned helped when my opponent was a non-entity. And my second realization was that I was going to die. Just as the world started to turn fuzzy and grey I saw a burst of movement from the corner of my eye. I heard Mulder shout my name, his voice seeming to come from a great distance. Then suddenly I was flying through the air, tumbling down the stairs painfully end over end before I had time to process what was happening and attempt to stop my fall. The last thing I heard - as my battered body came to a rest at the bottom of the stairs - was the sound of a woman screaming. Then everything went black. ***** I was rewarded for my return to consciousness with a blinding, white hot pain in my skull. I winced as I tried to open my eyes and take stock of my surroundings. "Sorry," I heard Mulder say from somewhere above me. "Michael, can you hear me?" "Dana," I managed to reply, hissing as both my chest and head throbbed at the effort. "Stay still," she warned. Not that I had the will or energy to move at that moment. "Can you open your eyes?" It took all of my energy and focus to lift my suddenly heavy eyelids. Painful brightness flooded in, making my eyes water. Mulder and Dana's worried faces hovered in my blurred vision. Gentle fingers pried my eyelids open further and a bright light was flashed directly into my right eye. I flinched, my head turning reflexively away from the source. My stomach clenched, bile rising in my throat in protest of the movement and suddenly the world seemed to rotate dizzyingly. I felt something shoved under my chin as the Chinese food I had eaten hours before was violently expelled from my body. I shouted as the pain in my head increased, but the sound that emerged ended up being more of a broken wail. I felt hands support my head and neck. Then everything shifted again until I lay on my back, my aching head resting on something soft. "...symptoms of a concussion," I heard Dana saying when the world came back into focus. "Try to keep him awake." I winced as she pressed a towel firmly to the side of my head, right over the spot my pain seemed to radiate from. I felt Mulder's hand slip into mine. "Vaughn, can you hear me?" I groaned in response. "Do you remember what happened?" I struggled to recall the events leading up to that moment. Choking...falling...screaming. My eyes snapped open. "Carlos?" Mulder sighed. "She's dead. When she saw what was happening, she ran out the door. Her neck was broken before she even made it across the lawn." I closed my eyes, ashamed of the way I had let my worry cloud my judgment. "What happened," Dana asked kindly. "She told me they were lovers...that Douglas wouldn't... wouldn't hurt her...thought she was a distraction." Even I could hear the slight slur in my voice. "We were the distraction," Mulder corrected, his tone suggesting this was a new realization. "Douglas wanted to get her alone." "Mulder, that doesn't make any sense," Dana argued. "If all he wanted was to get Carlos alone, why would he attack Michael?" "Maybe so he could kill two birds with one stone and get back at us for his death by killing what he thought was one of our own." I squeezed my eyes shut. Their argument was making me dizzy and aggravating my already excruciating headache. "Stay with us, Michael," Dana said loudly, inches from my ear. "Hurts," I muttered. "I know," she said sympathetically. "But you have to try to stay awake." "How bad," I asked blearily. "Right now, I'm most concerned about your head injuries..." "You'll be fine," Mulder interrupted. "Nothing a trip to the hospital and a couple days paid vacation can't fix." "Agent Scully," a voice called from somewhere nearby. "The ambulance is on its way." "Thank you, Agent Doggett," she called back. "Can you hold this while I go outside and wait for them?" The pressure on my head let up as she removed her hands, then increased as Agent Doggett's stronger hands took her place. I held back a whimper and squeezed Mulder's hand tightly. Agent Doggett apologized, but didn't loosen his grip. "Sorry," I whispered. "It wasn't your fault," Mulder soothed. "I shouldn't've left her," I argued weakly. "Douglas was determined to kill her one way or another. Lucky for you, that's all he wanted or we probably wouldn't be having this conversation." The room wavered and tilted slightly. I closed my eyes and felt myself start to sink into unconsciousness. "Vaughn, stay with me," Mulder said sharply. I struggled to open my eyes, but the pull of sleep was strong, offering a reprieve from the pain and dizziness. "'m so tired." "I know, but you have to stay with me. Keep talking if you have to." The pitch and volume of his voice changed as he directed his next words elsewhere. "How far is the ambulance?" "It's rush hour and the roads are icy," Agent Doggett replied. "It could take awhile. You wanna tell me why the CIA is interested in this case?" It took a moment for me to realize his question was aimed at me. I didn't question how he knew I was CIA. Maybe Dana told him, maybe he did some investigating into my background on his own, maybe he just recognized the difference between government agents instinctively the way some guys in the military could tell the difference between a navy sailor and a marine with their eyes closed. It didn't matter. I fought against the welcoming darkness. "I can't," I mumbled. "'s classified." "He didn't come here to investigate the case," Mulder interrupted. "He came to see me." "How do you know each other," Agent Doggett asked, confused. "We're lovers," Mulder replied almost flippantly. That was definitely a new one. Agent Doggett muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "That figures". I reached up to grab Agent Doggett's wrist. "No one can know," I said blearily. "FBI, CIA..." No matter how many people around us knew - Dana, Agent Doggett, Sydney - our relationship, whatever it was, could not become public knowledge. The Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy only extended so far and as a CIA operative I, at least, couldn't risk drawing attention. The man's hard features softened a little. "Don't worry about it, Agent Vaughn. I won't report you." "Michael," I corrected as dizziness started to overcome me again. Agent Doggett smiled. "Michael," he repeated. "You can call me John." "John...thank you," I whispered as I started to succumb to exhaustion. The distant wail of a siren announced the arrival of the ambulance, the sound growing louder by the second. I heard Mulder beg me once again to stay awake, felt him shaking my arm, but this time I couldn't fight it. And then I wasn't aware of anything else. ********* (Five months earlier) I crouched behind Sydney in one of the outer hallways of SD-6. "You okay?" She barely turned her head. "Yeah," she whispered distractedly. I could feel the adrenaline surging through me already. I was practically vibrating with nervous energy. Everything was happening so fast it was all I could do to not pinch myself just to make sure it was real. I couldn't imagine what she must be feeling. This was it. After two years of working with Sydney to bring down SD-6 and the Alliance we had found the silver bullet and Sydney, Weiss and I were assigned to the team that would raid SD-6. Now we just had to wait for the other teams at all the other SD cells and Alliance offices around the world to get into position. I pulled on my ski mask and checked my riffle for the fourth time. Finally, Kendall's voice came over the comlink, giving the order to move in. The team leader gestured to the rest of the team and we moved as one down the hall, deeper into the heart of SD-6. A few lone security officers intercepted us and were quickly disabled. Several twisting lengths of hallway later we emerged into the main office area and chaos erupted. The screams of the lower level desk-trained agents - the ones who believed they were working for the CIA - were drowned out by a volley of gunfire. Some tried to find cover, stumbling blindly through clouds of tear gas. I did my best to avoid hitting them as I disabled several of their armed comrades. They were little more than innocent bystanders, deluded into believing that they were serving their country. Something slammed into my leg, causing me to stumble into an empty desk. I fired three rounds into the nearest armed target before I began to register a dull ache in my right thigh. Several rounds and three enemy agents later that ache became a full-blown pain. My knees buckled and I grabbed the nearest desk in an attempt to slow my fall. I spared a glance down to find a dark stain spreading over the leg of my black fatigues. I had been hit. I clenched my jaw and pressed the heel of my right hand over the wound, leaving my left free to fire at any approaching enemies if necessary. I watched as the fighting continued for several minutes, bodies falling all around and sparks shooting through the air from various destroyed machinery and light fixtures. It ended as abruptly as it had begun. The remaining SD-6 agents either surrendered or were forcibly disarmed and were escorted out of the building in handcuffs. They would be interrogated and debriefed over the course of the next several days. As the ringing in my ears began to die down I heard the agents monitoring the raid back at ops center over the comlink, all chattering at once urgently. "We have two men down at SD-4." "Three agents killed at SD-8." "Three agents down at SD-2." "SD-9 has four down." "Two down at SD-6." I ripped off my mask and shoved it against the wound as I scanned the room, searching for familiar faces and telling myself it wasn't selfish to hope that Sydney wasn't one of the downed agents. A head count quickly told me that *I* was, in fact, one of the two. "Vaughn," Weiss shouted, appearing at my side suddenly as if beckoned by my realization. "Where's Sydney," I hissed through clenched teeth as he applied pressure to the wound. "I don't know. She probably went to find Jack," he replied quickly. "Stay still." "They said there were two down, who..." "Roberts didn't make it," he replied grimly. The relief I felt at knowing it wasn't Sydney was tempered by the guilt over feeling relieved to know another man was dead. "It's over," Weiss added with a smile. "We kicked their asses." I tried to smile back but failed miserably as a wave of dizziness swept over me. Weiss noticed my struggle and helped me lay down on the floor, stuffing his own discarded ski mask under my head. The adrenaline began to wear off and I drifted in and out of consciousness, seeing the movements of people around me in disjointed spurts. One moment Weiss was talking to me, then I blinked and a cellphone seemed to mysteriously appear in his hand and he was in the middle of ordering somebody to "move, now!" I blinked again and suddenly Sydney's face was hovering over me, her hands cradling my head and tears sparkling in her eyes. Her face was a mixture of relief and regret. She rained kisses on my forehead, cheeks and lips. "We did it," she said, her voice thick with emotion. Then she pressed her cheek to mine - the closest she could get to a hug under the circumstances - and murmured "Don't you dare leave me, Vaughn. I can't do this without you." I shivered as a cold gust of air seemed to blow over me. "Syd," I ground out, my teeth chattering. I wanted to reassure her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake and I just didn't have enough energy for speech. She let go of my head and I felt something warm drape over my shoulders. "He's going into shock," she frantically informed somebody nearby. "We have to get him out of here, now!" "Stretcher's on its way, Agent Bristow," a male voice I didn't recognize informed her. She picked up my limp hand, her grip firm, reassuring, demanding. I relaxed. I knew I could finally let go - give in to the darkness creeping in at the edges of my vision. I would be safe in her hands. I would not die as long as she had a say in the matter. I smiled inwardly as I drifted into unconsciousness. ******** MULDER Methodist Hospital Present After two hours of waiting, I was beginning to get impatient. The paramedics had graciously allowed me to ride with Vaughn to the hospital, although that was mostly for convenience as Vaughn was not cognizant enough to answer their questions. He hadn't regained consciousness since his brief period of lucidity back at the Carlos residence, but the paramedics and seemingly the entire staff at the hospital repeatedly reassured me that he would be fine and they just needed to run a few tests. I had yet to hear anything about the results of those tests and whether or not that prognosis had changed. A few other family members sat in front of the television mounted in the corner of the waiting room. I tried to watch with them and distract myself but I just couldn't bring myself to care whether or not the talk show host could help some poor white trash woman prove that her loser ex-boyfriend was the father of her child. I sighed and went to pour myself another cup of coffee. It was horrible, instant coffee that left a bad taste in my mouth, but it was hot and, really, no worse than the crap they tried to pass as coffee in the Hoover building. Fresh coffee in hand, I began pacing the hallway outside the waiting room, hoping to burn off some of my excess energy and frustration. I was on my second lap when a woman rushed past me, her long brown hair trailing behind her. She marched up to the nearest nurses station. "I'm here to see Michael Vaughn," she said, her voice calm and controlled if a bit urgent. "Are you Sydney," I asked cautiously. She turned, startled, and eyed me warily as I stepped closer, offering my hand. "I'm Fox Mulder." Her eyes widened slightly in recognition and she accepted my handshake. I breathed a silent sigh of relief that my earlier assessment of her had apparently been false (or at least incomplete) as my arm remained firmly attached to my body. I guided her to a slightly more private section of the corridor, away from the traffic and thick knots of bodies. "What happened," she asked immediately, her voice just as commanding as it had been when she was addressing the nurse. "Long story. Basically, he was attacked by a suspect in the case my partners and I were working on." "How does Vaughn have anything to do with your case," she asked, confused. "One of the victims was Roberto Giavani." She shook her head slightly and lowered her voice. "The CIA handed that case over to the FBI." "Yes, but Vaughn didn't come here because of the case. It's relationship to this...Rambaldi, while insignificant, sparked his interest." Sydney's eyes shifted to the floor. "What are you doing here," I asked gently. "The hospital called me," she explained. "Vaughn's remaining family lives in France, so I'm listed as his next of kin." "And you flew half-way across the country this fast?" "I wasn't in L.A. when they called me," she said carefully. She took a deep breath. "You said he was attacked. How?" "I didn't see the whole thing, but I know he was thrown down a flight of stairs. He hit his head pretty hard." That wasn't entirely true. My mind couldn't stop replaying those moments before he went rolling down the stairs. I ran into the hall to find him with his back to the wall, his feet several inches from the floor, clawing futilely at the air and making desperate, choking noises. I shouted his name and he looked at me, his eyes glassy and unfocused, silently pleading with me to help him. I haven't been so scared in years. She winced in sympathy. "Have the doctors told you anything?" "Not yet, but I'm sure he'll be fine. He has a very thick skull," I assured her dryly. She looked at me questioningly and a slow smile crept onto her face. Before she could reply, a voice called "Mr. Mulder?" I turned to find a man in a lab coat extending his hand for me to shake. "I'm Doctor English. I was told you were the one who brought Mr. Vaughn in?" "Yes, uh, this is Sydney Bristow, she's his next of kin." Dr. English shook her hand as well. "I just looked at the results of the CT scan and it looks like Mr. Vaughn has a small skull fracture but there doesn't appear to be any bruising or bleeding so he should make a full recovery." "Can we see him," I asked abruptly. "Oh, sure. In fact, I can take you to his room right now, if you'd like." Sydney and I nodded and followed him down the maze of corridors as he continued. "Aside from the head injuries, he has two broken ribs and his left arm is fractured. We'll have to keep him at least overnight to monitor his breathing and mental status." "Is he in pain," Sydney asked. "It is likely he will be once he wakes up. We can give him Tylenol, but we can't give him anything stronger as long as he's concussed. We'll have to wake him up every couple of hours to check on him." He stopped in front of a room where Vaughn's name had been hastily scribbled on a small plaque outside and opened the door, stepping aside to allow us past. "If you have any other questions, just ask one of the nurses." Sydney gave Dr. English a distracted "thank you" and brushed past him into the room. I followed right behind her. If I had thought Vaughn had looked fragile after a night spent battling high fever and hypothermia then he looked downright broken now. He was surrounded by machines, although the only one that appeared to be attached to him was the heart monitor that beeped softly beside his head. His left arm was suspended in a sling above the bed, a thick white plaster cast encasing it up to the elbow. A white bandage had been wrapped around his head - no doubt to stem the bleeding from the wound that Scully had assured me was superficial. "Oh, Vaughn," Sydney sighed, brushing the edges of the bandage on his head with gentle fingers, sweeping aside a stray lock of hair. "I don't think either one of us was ever meant to take a vacation." I stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, unsure of what to make of this strange situation and feeling vaguely like a third wheel. I was startled out of my self contemplation when Sydney suddenly turned to address me. "The suspect who attacked Vaughn...what happened to him?" I hesitated. "How much has Vaughn told you about me?" She frowned. "He said you were an old friend, that you're in the FBI and that you're incredibly paranoid. Why?" In other words - nothing. So for now it was probably best to give her the succinct, paranormal-free version. "The suspect's dead." She nodded, seemingly content with this answer and didn't press for further information. The room fell silent for several long moments until I could no longer ignore the nagging question I had had ever since she had arrived. "Why are you here," I blurted. Well, that didn't exactly come out the way I had intended it to. She gave me an odd look and I flailed to revise the question. "I mean...uh..." I glanced at the door to make sure we had privacy. "Vaughn once told me that the people you work for would kill you if you were seen together," I explained in a low voice. A look of confusion and wariness flashed across her face. "How much did he tell you?" "Not much more than that," I assured her, hoping I hadn't just endangered her. She seemed to hesitate, looking at Vaughn's unconscious form as if searching for an explanation. Then she gestured to the uncomfortable-looking chairs pushed against the wall and said "I think we should talk." I kept my eyes on her warily as she guided me to the chairs, half expecting her to suddenly lunge at me with a knife or piano wire or whatever other deadly weapon she may have been carrying on her for protection. If the stories Vaughn had told me were true and she thought I was a threat to her safety Sydney could kill me and be halfway to the state border before anyone discovered my body. But she only sat in the chair next to me. "These people," she began slowly, her voice low and measured. "SD-6...they posed as a branch of the CIA and for years I believed them. Two years ago I found out that they were actually part of the Alliance...an organized crime syndicate...the very people I thought we were fighting. I became a double agent for the real CIA and Vaughn was assigned as my handler, working with me to help bring down the Alliance. The only problem was that we didn't know for certain how far the Alliance reached or the exact locations of all its offices." "Why are you telling me all of this," I asked suspiciously. She shook her head and closed her eyes briefly, as if frustrated that she couldn't just cut to the bottom line. "A few months ago we found a server that gave us everything," she continued. "A list of partners' names, the locations of all the SD cells, everything the CIA needed to destroy the Alliance. We raided their offices the next day." She looked me in the eye as she finished, driving home the importance of this story. "SD-6 no longer exists." I stared at her stupidly as my mind processed this information. "How long ago was this?" "Five months." I shook my head, confused. "He called me about two months ago. He didn't tell me any of this." "He didn't want to tell you over the phone," she admitted, her eyes soft and sympathetic. "He didn't tell me in person either," I pointed out. "I haven't seen him in almost six months." She immediately leapt to his defense. "That's because he was shot during the raid. He spent almost a month in the hospital and three more in physical therapy." Now my head was starting to spin. "He doesn't have any scars." If the fact that I was so certain of that threw her at all, she did a remarkable job of not showing it. "Plastic surgery. Field agents have to cover any mission-related bruises or scars." She smiled. "People tend to be suspicious if you have injuries that don't fit with your cover story." "Where was he shot," I asked. "His right thigh." She placed her hand on her own upper thigh, slightly left of center. "Right about here." My mind fast-forwarded through every moment I had spent with him - to the best of my recollection - in the last 48 hours. He *had* been favoring that leg a little. Hadn't he? "He should still be resting...recovering from the surgery," she continued. "But it seems he was too anxious to see you." She didn't say it like an accusation, but it felt like one anyway. He had traveled halfway across the country - sick and recovering from serious injury and post-op surgery - just so he could be with me. And what did I do? I chastised him for walking outside in a blizzard with a fever and making me play nursemaid. No wonder he hadn't said anything. Hell, I wouldn't have blamed him for dumping my ungrateful ass, turning around and heading home the first chance he got. Sensing my self-flagellation, Sydney leaned forward, forcing me to make eye contact with her and placed her hand gently on my knee. "He loves you." Somehow I managed not to recoil in shock. I never would have expected to hear those words at all in regard to Vaughn - much less from the primary woman in his life. "I thought he told you I was an old friend," I reminded her. "That's what he *told* me, but I always knew there was more to it than that. I've seen the look in his eyes whenever he talks about you. I've seen how relaxed and happy he is after spending the weekend with you..." She blushed. "Not to mention the slight limp he tries to hide from me and the way he avoids sitting down." I smiled inwardly. Mission accomplished then. "I assume you're the one who gave him the hickey." I snorted. "Vaughn complained to me about someone named 'Weiss' giving him a hard time about it." She smiled. "He still does. My point is that I know he has feelings for you, but I don't think even he knows exactly what those feelings are. I shook my head with a disbelieving chuckle. "I was always under the impression he was in love with *you*." She sighed. "Vaughn idolizes me. Sometimes I feel like he's put me on a sort of pedestal. 'Look but don't touch.' He might confuse that with love, but it isn't. In a way we may love each other, but we both know it would never work out. I could never be the person he wishes I were. Deep down, I think he probably feels the same way. Maybe I idolize him too. He was the only one who knew what my life was like - the lies I had to tell people every day. He understood and he was always there for me." She smiled. "He's the perfect friend. All I know is that the look in his eyes when he talks to me may be loving but it's not the same as the look he gets when he talks about you." I sat in stunned silence for a while, letting this information sink in. "I don't know if you feel the same way or not," she continued. "But either way, you need to talk to him. And just so you know..." she leaned forward and lowered her voice, the slight mischievous sparkle in her eyes belying her threatening tone. "If you hurt him, I can kill you and make it look like an accident." I laughed. "I wouldn't expect anything less." ****** VAUGHN "...sir? Sir, if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that," a soft female voice urged. I groaned and struggled through layers of fog, opening my eyes with great effort to find a motherly-looking woman in a nurse's uniform hovering over me. "Good," she cooed. "Now I just have to ask you a few questions and I promise I'll be out of your hair, all right?" I tried to nod, but the ache in my head halted the movement. "Can you tell me your name?" I hesitated, trying to recall where I was and how I had gotten there. Was I supposed to be using an alias? "It's okay," a second, more familiar voice assured me. Sydney stepped into my line of sight behind the nurse and reached over to squeeze my hand encouragingly. I took that as a 'no'. "Michael Vaughn." "Do you know what year it is?" "2003." "And who is the current president of the U.S.?" "Dick Cheney." The nurse chuckled good-naturedly. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not the first person to tell me that joke." "Yeah, well, I never was good at telling jokes," I mumbled. Sydney smirked and rubbed comforting circles in the back of my hand with her thumb. "Are you comfortable," the nurse asked. "Any pain? Nausea? Dizziness?" "My head hurts and I feel like I was kicked in the chest by a mule," I grumbled. "Otherwise, no." She smiled sympathetically. "I'll give you some Tylenol," she said, producing an ampoule and hypodermic needle seemingly from nowhere and quickly and efficiently injecting the liquid into my IV. "I'm afraid we can't give you anything stronger until we're certain your concussion is gone." I groaned and nodded. After she left, I turned to Sydney, my mind straining to piece together the events of the past twenty-four hours. "How did you get here?" "Recon mission in Switzerland," she replied, sitting gingerly on the edge of my bed. "I was on my way back when the hospital called me." "They sent you in alone?" "No. Weiss is probably being debriefed as we speak. He submitted my report." She leaned over me carefully and kissed my cheek. "I hope you gave as good as you got." I grumbled noncommittally, not wanting to admit that I had gotten my ass handed to me by Casper's homicidal cousin. Not that she'd believe me anyway. Well, maybe she would. She sat wordlessly petting my hair for several long moments. I sighed, relaxing as the pain in my chest began to ease. "I met Agent Mulder," she finally said. "He seems nice." Great. "He was here," I asked, feigning disinterest. She gave me an odd look. "He still is. He just went to get some coffee." "Oh," I said, making sure my face remained impassive. Sydney's eyes flickered to the side furtively. "I see your ability to fool a lie detector could use some work," she observed dryly. Damn heart monitor. "Syd..." "No, you don't have to explain." she interrupted. "It's okay." She smiled and rubbed my good shoulder lightly. " You should try to get some sleep." 'Sometimes she knows me better than I know myself,' I thought as I fought the sudden pull of unconsciousness and inevitably lost. ****** "Sir, can you hear me? Sir, I need you to open your eyes." I groaned. Didn't we just go through this? "I'm sorry, but we're going to be checking on you every couple hours," the nurse said as if she could read my thoughts. "I just have to ask you a few questions and you can go back to sleep..." "My name is Michael Vaughn, it's 2003 and I don't give a shit who the president is," I grumbled. She smiled and I ground my teeth, biting back the urge to yell and swear at her. "Good. It looks like you're getting better." She reached for the bottle of clear liquid and accompanying syringe. "I take it you would like some more Tylenol?" "Please," I ground out. I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head to find Sydney and Mulder sitting by the window, both watching me with apparent amusement. I groaned and closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore them as Nurse Ratched finished whatever she was doing. "There you go," she announced finally. "If you don't need anything else I'll let you rest." "Can you lock the door on your way out," I grumbled. She just chuckled. "I'll see you in a couple hours." "Damnit," I muttered in the general direction of her retreating back. I heard a rustle of movement and felt the uncomfortable mattress dip slightly with added body weight. "You should try being nicer to the nurses," Mulder said from above me. "Trust me. Hospital food is bad enough without vengeful staff members spitting in it." I opened my eyes and fixed him with a mild glare. "This is all your fault, you know." He held up his hands innocently. "Hey, nobody said you had to get involved in the case." "Nobody said you could fly half-way across the country so soon after surgery either," Sydney piped up as she moved to stand closer to the bed. "From what Mulder tells me you were definitely not in any condition to travel." I sighed. Clearly I was not going to win this argument. I froze as Mulder kissed me suddenly, intimately, sucking my lower lip into his mouth with Sydney standing not two feet away. "What was that for," I asked dazedly when he pulled back. "For putting up with me. And for being a stubborn idiot." I swatted at his shoulder with my good arm, wincing as the movement aggravated my sore ribs. "Okay," Mulder laughed, taking my hand and gently returning it to my side. "Let's save the ass kicking for later." Sydney cleared her throat softly. "I think I'll leave you two alone for a while," she announced, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. Mulder grabbed her by the wrist, halting her movement. "No, you should stay. I may need your help." I watched as she slowly gave in, pulling her chair to the side of the bed opposite from where Mulder sat. This was beginning to feel suspiciously like some sort of intervention. "Sydney told me what happened. That you were shot in a raid of the big evil syndicate." Damn it. In all the chaos I had almost forgotten the reason I came in the first place. "I was going to tell you," I blurted. Mulder covered my mouth with his palm, cutting off what would no doubt have been a pathetic excuse. "It's okay. I know. And I shouldn't have jumped down your throat for showing up sick, although for future reference if you ever do something like that to me again I will tie you down and whip you. And you will *not* enjoy it." I felt my cheeks flush hotly in embarrassment. My eyes flitted over to Sydney, who was studying the floor with apparent fascination, pretending she had not heard that last remark. Mulder caught my sideways glance. "Don't worry. She knows more than you think." I groaned. "Which brings me to my next point," he continued. "After talking to Sydney it has become clear that we need to talk about this thing that has been going on between us because we seem to be getting our wires crossed somewhere." I blinked at him in confusion and wondered if Nurse Ratched got her vials mixed up and gave me something stronger than Tylenol because Mulder seemed to be acting stranger than usual. "Remember, after that first night, when you asked me if our attraction to each other was just a result of the alcohol? I told you that I thought we might be looking for a safe alternative to our relationships with our partners. I think we may both have been wrong. I think there was something else - something stronger than pity or alcohol - that drew us to each other. And as cliché as it sounds it took the possibility of you dying for me to see it." He took a deep breath, seeming to rally up the courage for his next words. "I think I may be falling in love with you. I don't know if this relationship can work given the nature of our careers and the fact that we live five thousand miles apart, but I'm willing to try it if you are." I stared at him in shock. "Are you sure I'm the only one who hit my head," I asked, my voice sounding small and dazed even to my own ears. Sydney sighed loudly and stood, moving to stand behind Mulder and fixing me with a hard stare. "Vaughn, I love you, but I swear if you don't give Agent Mulder a chance I will never speak to you again." "Syd..." It was obvious she would not be deterred and she continued as if I hadn't said anything. "I have spent the last year listening to you talk about Agent Mulder, pretending that he's nothing more than a friend when it was obvious you were just fooling yourself. I haven't said anything because I figured you would realize it eventually but clearly you are in deeper denial than I thought. I know you have feelings for him and I refuse to watch you walk away from a relationship that makes you happy which, judging by the stars in your eyes every time you talk about Agent Mulder, is exactly what this is." I blinked at her stupidly. I was right, it was an intervention. I really wished they had waited until my head had stopped throbbing to drop that on me, but it was too late for that now. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say..." "You don't have to say anything yet," Mulder interrupted. "This isn't a soap opera. I just want to make sure you're willing to try. So...are you in this with me?" I hesitated for only a moment. "Yeah, okay," I said softly with a shaky nod, wondering if this was the healthiest decision I had ever made in my life. Dating Fox Mulder had to be a one-way trip to solitary confinement in a room with padded walls. The way his face lit up in response to my agreement, however, made my stomach flutter and my heart beat a little faster. I realized suddenly that in spite of any reservations I may have had, I wanted this. Maybe it was what I had wanted all along. "Thank you," he murmured as he slid his arms beneath my shoulders and hugged me tightly. "Mulder...my ribs," I choked out. The Tylenol was not nearly strong enough for this. My arm and head throbbed in sympathy. "Sorry, honey," he said quickly, letting go and holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Don't call me honey." "Okay, dearest." I glared at him. "No pet names," I growled. "Whatever you say, Pookie." I shot a withering glance at Sydney, who held her hand in front of her mouth to cover her silent giggles. "You see what I have to put up with?" A giggle slipped out at that and she bent closer to kiss my cheek. "Be nice," she said, only a trace of seriousness in her tone. "Yeah, listen to your mother," Mulder added. Sydney swatted him lightly on the shoulder. "Stop that," she scolded, her barely restrained laughter making her sound anything but threatening. "We should let him rest," she added almost as an afterthought. She leaned over to give me a loving peck on the lips. "I'll see you when you get back." The look in her eyes told me she had a lot more questions for me when I got home. I groaned inwardly as I pictured myself sitting on her couch drinking beer, being needled into spilling all the details of my love life. Come to think of it, that might not be so bad. It would be nice to have somebody to talk to. Maybe then I wouldn't feel quite so much like a teenager sneaking off behind the bleachers for a secret fling with the coach or something. As long as I didn't have to get too graphic... "I'll be right there," Mulder assured when Sydney gave him a completely unsubtle 'let's go' look. She reluctantly accepted this and grabbed her purse on her way out the door. Almost the second she had disappeared from sight, Mulder's lips covered mine. This kiss was much more passionate and full of promise than the last. "You know," he murmured, his lips still brushing mine. "I think I could get a couple days off. Maybe I could fly back to L.A. with you...make sure you get settled again. Oversee your recovery a bit..." I moaned as his hand dipped below the hospital sheet, his fingers lightly but suggestively massaging the inside of my thigh. "You mean you can take advantage of me." Mulder's hand stopped and he gave me an innocent look. "I would not," he said in exaggerated offense. "However..." He leaned closer so that he could whisper directly into my ear, his voice low and sensual. "Once you're feeling better we're going to take a vacation somewhere, just the two of us, no distractions, and I'm not letting you out of bed until we have to go home." I groaned as his words made my blood flow south. My cock stirred lazily and the muscles in my ass throbbed eagerly, as if my body remembered the feel of his thick length inside me hours earlier and was hungry for more. Damn Mulder. He could always get my body to betray me. "Stop," I begged weakly as his thumb rubbed maddening circles on the sensitive patch of skin where my thigh met my hip, his fingers brushing tantalizingly close to my twitching cock. As good as it felt, I didn't really want to have to explain why I was pitching a tent in my hospital sheet the next time Nurse Ratched came by. He brought his hand out from under the covers obediently and gently laid his warm palm on my abdomen. "I should go say goodbye to Sydney...maybe get something to eat. Will you be okay?" I nodded, smiling at the softness and slight worry in his tone. I closed my eyes as he kissed my forehead, his lips lingering just long enough for it to feel like a gesture from a lover instead of a parent or close friend. "Get some rest," he whispered. I reached for his hand with my good hand and brought it to my lips, brushing a kiss over his knuckles. "Thank you." He just smiled and squeezed my hand. And then his hand slipped reluctantly from mine as he left the room. I sighed and stared at the ceiling, willing myself to go back to sleep so I could at least get an hour or so before the nurse woke me again. But my mind was spinning from the sudden turn of events in the last few hours, making sleep almost impossible. I marveled at the road I had taken to get here. A year ago, I had gotten drunk and stumbled into bed with a stranger because he understood me better than anyone else in my life. Now we were talking about love and romance and making plans for the future. Maybe fate does work in mysterious ways. I closed my eyes and imagined the vacation Mulder promised. A hotel in Santa Barbara, right on the beach, the sound of the waves crashing right outside the window. A big, soft bed with plush pillows and sheets wrinkled by our repeated bouts of wild, noisy sex. No. By our slow, passionate lovemaking. Well, maybe both. Either way, there would probably be some bruising and we would both have difficulty walking for a few days. I shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed. This was not helping to curb my arousal. Okay, maybe if I tried thinking of something other than Mulder. Like hockey. Or Weiss in a frilly pink tutu. Weiss in a frilly pink tutu playing hockey and freezing his ass off. Yeah, that was better. I smiled and closed my eyes, drifting somewhere between consciousness and dreams. Unfortunately, my attempt at distraction didn't work long and I found myself daydreaming about Mulder and that hotel in Santa Barbara again. Maybe we could get a room with a Jacuzzi. I pictured myself lounging in the bubbling water, cushioned by Mulder's body, sighing as he massaged all the tension out of my muscles. My sighs inevitably turning into moans as his hands drifted lower, his touch going from soothing to sensual. My fantasy Mulder wrapped his hand around my aching cock, stroking up and down slowly, whispering encouraging nonsense in my ear as I squirmed and thrust into his fist. His other hand traveled lower, two fingers slipping inside me, my body offering no resistance, having been stretched and lubricated by at least one previous encounter that evening. I was just losing myself completely in the fantasy when I heard a knock. My eyes shot open. "Everything okay in here," the nurse called softly, poking her head in my room. She glanced at the prominent bulge barely hidden by my sheet and held back a smirk. "I'll come back later," she said with a wink before ducking back into the hall. Damn Mulder. THE END