THE CURSE OF DARK SHADOWS

'The night wind howls through the trees surrounding the great estate. The building stands alone... watching, waiting as the waves crash mournfully onto the rocks below the hill. Soon, the waiting will be over. For on this night a lost love arrives, bringing with him links to the past and future...'

Chapter One: Arrival

Alex Krycek, jarred awake for the fourth time, stared out of the train's window as the sea passed by. High above, the full moon cast shimmering shapes onto the surface of the water far below. He still didn't know why he was doing this. Had the pressure really been too much? True, he was worn out from being kept on the run by the Consortium... but even they couldn't keep him away from the person he longed for more than life itself. No, that person was exactly why he needed to get away.

Through all of his experiences - some he still wasn't too proud of - the one sobering factor in his life had been Fox Mulder. Every time Alex closed his eyes, he imagined Mulder holding out his arms, looking down with those beautiful eyes. Since the day they'd first met, Alex didn't know whether to be scared or overjoyed from the feelings raging inside of him. In many ways, the sea outside reminded him of Mulder... For a moment, he could imagine Fox Mulder rising out of the water and floating toward him.

'No, no, no!' Alex nearly cried out loud. 'This is exactly why you're going away.' His feelings for Mulder were eating him up inside, and as much as he wanted to touch his hair, kiss his nose, lick those full lips, carry him off somewhere... Alex resigned himself to the fact that Mulder would never feel the same way.

'Stop foolin' yourself!' It had been a tough decision. Mulder's going to hate me for the rest of my life. Although having him hate me is preferable to nothing at all, but I just can't stay. If I can't have him, no use pining away like some kind of idiot. If this is the closest I can get to having him, it's not good enough. I'd rather travel the country... I can't take any more of this.

And that's exactly what he'd done. Searching various train schedules, Alex's eyes had lit up on a nowhere town off the coast of Maine. Something about the name... Collinsport... had seemed familiar. Maybe he could stow aboard a steamer and make his way overseas once he got there? It was a plan, and right now it was all he had.

He settled back into the cushioned seat as the train rattled on, toward the little town and destiny.

~ * * * * * ~

"Collinsport!" a thick, New England accent shouted.

Alex rubbed his eyes and blearily saw that it was pitch black outside, except for the approaching lights of a train station.

"Collinsport!" the conductor called once more.

Gathering his battered duffle bag, with all of his worldy possessions inside, Alex stretched while the train pumped to a halt. He'd felt as if he'd been sitting forever, and the muscles in his back were tense and sore. Moving down the corridor, he was surprised not to see any other passengers joining him. Oddly enough, most were deliberately staring straight ahead as if they didn't want to see the town of Collinsport outside. Even the train conductor seemed anxious for him to leave.

Hefting the duffel bag over his shoulder, Alex merely shrugged. Well, when you've seen one small town, you've seen them all. Descending the metal steps, he caught the glimmer of a grim look on the old conductor's face. Just his luck to pick a creepy train. Shrugging it off, he stepped off the train and onto the fog-shrouded Collinsport platform.

It didn't take long for the train's massive engine to start up again, pulling away from the station. Bathed only in a nearby streetlamp, Alex shivered and pulled his leather jacket up around his ears. "Well, I'm here... now what?"

Something at the end of the platform caught his attention. Behind a ticket kiosk, he could see a man working. Making his way toward it, Alex called out, "Hello!"

The man behind the glass window almost shrieked from the figure emerging from the fog. "Hey, I was wondering if..." Alex began, but the little man quickly closed the window and Alex was alone once more. "Hey!" he called, banging on the door. But there was no answer. "Great," he sighed.

From the distance he could hear the slapping of water and ship bells. There had to be a wharf nearby, and where there's a wharf, there's a drink! Hurrying away from the platform, he crossed the street and strode into the town of Collinsport.

It seemed to be just your average small town, with picturesque homes and gated fences. Most of them were in total darkness. Checking his watch, Alex humphed sarcastically. The locals must turn in early around here. He rounded a corner and walked along the sidewalk next to a rather large building called the Collinsport Inn. 'Must be what passes for a hotel in these parts,' he mused.

Continuing on his way, he found it odd that not one single car had gone by. What on earth had possessed him to come to Nowhere, USA? His thoughts immediately turned back to Mulder. He gave himself a half-smile, imagining the FBI Agent sensing something amiss by the lack of activity.

Alex shook his head and exhaled, watching his warm breath evaporate. 'Alright, you've got to stop thinking like that.' Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to clear his mind and realized that - despite the inclement weather - what he probably needed was a cold shower. The mere thought of Fox Mulder sent his blood racing... Alex opened his eyes as the familiar scent of the sea filled his senses. He must be near a dock by now, and he could really use that drink!

After a few more minutes, he found a cluster of buildings on the wharf. Scanning them, he was pleased to see one called The Blue Whale, complete with fish nets and an old sign hanging above the front door. There were lights on within, the first sign of life in the entire town. Feeling better, he went inside.

All activity beyond ceased the moment the handsome stranger entered the bar. Alex swallowed hard. You could have heard a pin drop if it hadn't been for the slow, sixties-style music playing from the corner jukebox. He shivered again, feeling as if those eyes were boring straight through him. Clearing his throat, he made his way through the sea of staring faces and took a seat at the bar.

"I'll have a vodka," he told the barman.

Nodding, the barman quickly fixed the drink and Alex swallowed it in one go. "Another," he said. He slowly turned on the stool to find the room still watching him like a hawk. "Did I step in something or am I that incredibly good-looking?" he asked the barman.

A young man seated across from him smirked and shared a glance with the bartender. "Should we tell him, Bob?" the man asked.

"We don't get many strangers around here," he answered.

'That's a cliché if ever I heard one,' Alex thought. "With all the ships that come in?" he wondered.

"True, but they're mostly sailors and workers from the old Collins Fishing Fleet," the barman said, "but that was taken over by a company in Bangor years ago."

"Is he giving you any trouble, Bob?" a gruff voice asked from behind.

Alex glanced up to find one of the sailors standing over him. He was almost seven feet tall, total muscle and full of ale. 'Just let him start something with me,' Alex thought darkly.

"No, Reuben," Bob said while cleaning a few glasses.

"What brings you here?" Reuben asked, getting close to Alex's face. Alex blinked several times. The smell of alcohol was enough to knock out a horse. The sailor licked his dry lips and stared down at him with a lecherous gleam in his eye.

"Just passing through," Alex answered through gritted teeth.

"Passing through, huh? Don't stand still too long or the ghosts'll get 'ya!" he laughed.

Alex stood up in a flash and grabbed the drunken sailor roughly by the collar. "Listen, you're beginning to aggravate me!"

Reuben's face turned bright red and he puffed up his chest. How he loved a challenge! He could definitely teach this one a lesson or two back on board ship. He hauled back his fist, but it froze in mid-air from Bob's restraining look.

"Not in here!" the bartender ordered.

Alex released his grip and Reuben smoothed down his already rumpled clothes. "Fine, fine," he smiled. Walking past the Russian, he whispered, "I'll deal with you later."

Rolling his eyes, Alex sat back down at the bar to finish his second drink. The barman looked over his shoulder at the angry crowd, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Once you finish that, you may want to get out of here."

"I'm not scared of them," Alex said.

Bob nodded, "I believe you can take care of yourself, lad."

After a moment, Alex looked at the barman curiously. "What did he mean about 'ghosts'?"

Sighing, Bob hissed, "Not so loud!" He darted his eyes back and forth, afraid a fight might break out.

Gregory, the young man across from him continued, "Let's just say that I could tell you stories about this town that would rock you from here all the way back to where you came from."

Alex nearly laughed, but Bob broke in. "Do you have someplace to stay the night?"

"No," Alex replied. "I was hoping to find a job on one of the boats, but if our friend over there is any indication... Are there any openings around here?"

Bob thought for a moment. "The market's not too big in Collinsport... of course, there's always Collinwood."

Gregory nearly choked on his beer. "You can't be sending him up there," he spluttered.

"Not at night, of course," Bob agreed.

"Am I missing something here?" Alex asked. "What the hell is a Collinwood?" 'And why does that name seem so familiar?' he wondered.

Bob leaned on the bar. "It's an old mansion up on Widows' Hill that needs a caretaker," he explained.

"Yeah, and with enough ghosts to fill up thriteen Gothic novels," Gregory chimed in.

Alex looked at them both, were they deliberately trying to scare him away? "Yeah, well I don't think I want to know," he said.

"Here son," Bob said, handing Alex a napkin with some hastily drawn directions. "Virginia Blake and her nephew take care of the grounds during the day, and the town council have been needing someone to fix the old place up."

Alex took the napkin. "Why hasn't anyone from here taken up the job?" he asked.

"Because most of us have more sense than to hang around that house on the hill," Gregory told him. "If you spent even one night there, that dark hair of yours will be one gorgeous shade of white in the morning!"

"Now, that's not true," Bob said. "If you want the job, I can contact Mrs. Blake and let her know. I promise it pays well."

Alex mulled this over for a while. A creepy mansion in a nowhere town like this? "And no-one ever goes there?" he asked.

"There's one born every minute," Gregory said into his beer.

"I'll take my chances," Alex smiled.

Bob reached under the bar and handed Alex a key. "Good. You can stay in the spare room above the bar tonight and go up to Collinwood in the morning.

"Thanks," Alex said cautiously. Taking the key, he picked up his duffel bag and found a stairway. Walking past the semi-conscious Reuben, Alex rumbled a low "Grrrr!" and disappeared up the stairs.

After he'd gone, Gregory motioned at Bob. "Are you crazy, sending a stranger up to Spooksville?!"

"He'll be fine," Bob said, wiping the bar.

"You seem to forget what happened the last time someone tried to live at that house," Gregory reminded him.

Bob shook his head. "Virginia and Cristoff are there all the time..." he began.

"But never during the night. I was just a kid, but I remember my mom telling us how that young girl's body was found floating in the old pool," he said.

"That was an accident," Bob chided.

"And what about those two novelists who lived on the estate? How their car mysteriously crashed?"

"You're letting your imagination run away with you," Bob said. "That boy will be just fine."

"You better hope so," Gregory said. "There's a curse over that house! Those stories about Collinwood still scare me to death."

Bob slapped his hand with a tea towel. "Boo!"

Gregory jumped off the bar stool and took a seat at a table, nursing his beer. Bob went back to polishing the glasses. He felt sure the stranger would be alright up at the estate. He was strong and looked the type that needed a place to get away. Besides, there was always that finder's fee from the Council...

Upstairs in the sparse bedroom, Alex opened a window and allowed the sea air to wash over him. Down in the street, the mist rolled along in waves. He sighed heavily. Who would have thought he'd end up in a ghost town? Well, at least he'd have a place to hide out. If Collinwood was as infamous as the locals made it sound, he was sure to be safe there...

~ * * * * * ~

"Mulder, you can't be serious?" Dana Scully cried. She had heard some wild ideas from her partner over the years, but this one she just couldn't believe.

Shrugging into his jacket, Fox Mulder looked at her over his desk. He'd just hung up the 'phone with his friend Tony, a source that had been keeping tabs on Krycek from time to time.

"Yes, I'm serious!" he said. "Scully, this is my chance to finally track him down."

She folded her arms. "And do what?"

"What I've always wanted to do," he said, hastily. "It's as simple as that."

"But a fishing village in Maine?" she asked, holding up his notes. "Not a good idea. I didn't have a very good time when I breezed through one."

Mulder gave her a crooked half-smile, remembering Scully's "vacation" some time ago. Well, now it was his turn for a little time off. He took the information from her. "Scully, just trust me. I need to find him before he hops a boat to who-knows-where," he said.

She cocked her head to the side. "Why do I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me?"

"There's not!" he exclaimed, a little too defesively. "There's not, I promise."

Her eyes scanned down to a thick folder Mulder carried under his arm. "What's this?" she asked, slyly taking it from him.

"Just a little reading material for the trip," he explained innocently.

"'The Unexplained Deaths of Collinsport, Maine'," she read the heading of the X-file. Mulder snatched it back. "Gotcha!" she smiled.

"I'll see you in a few days!" he called, waving the folder.

Scully sat down behind his desk and watched him go. She hoped that if he did find Ratboy, that he wouldn't do anything too rash. She wish she could've gone with him. Tapping a pencil on the desk, she snapped her fingers. Turning on the computer, she quickly called up information on Collinsport, Maine. "Now, let's see what this fishing village has to offer," she said as the screen lit up...

~ * * * * * ~

Twisting beneath the covers fitfully, Alex breathed hard as a dream invaded his mind...

"Jamison, how handsome you look tonight," he said, full of love for the person walking beside him.

"I love being with you," Jamison replied shyly.

They strolled together through the rose garden. The spring evening's scent heavy in the air.

"Just look up at the stars," he indicated the bright points reflected against the clouds. "I see them all within your eyes."

He felt Jamison's warm arms around him. The soft velvet of his coat rubbing lightly against his skin. At once their lips touched, matching the embrace. He felt Jamison's full lips caressing his own. When he opened his eyes, he found Fox Mulder staring straight into his soul...

"Mulder!" Alex shouted, sitting up in bed with shock. His heart raced and his skin glistened with sweat. Throwing off the covers, he stood at the window to let the chill air in. Taking in deep lungfuls of salty, sea air Alex tried to clear his senses but it was no good. The moonlight cast shadows over his naked body, which remained on fire. The dream had been so vivid, so real... What had it meant? "Get a hold of yourself!" he said aloud.

After a moment, he laid back down on top of the bed. He could still feel those lips against his. Closing his eyes, he traced a finger along his mouth... The work waiting for him at that mansion had better be big to distract him, otherwise his thoughts for Mulder would going to drive him completely crazy.

~ * * * * * ~

The next morning, Alex had dressed hurriedly and met Bob downstairs. Thanking the barman for the room, he found a cab waiting for him to take him up to Collinwood. Apparently, there was only one taxi in the entire town and the council had insisted he use it. Strange folks indeed, Alex mused.

The trip to the estate took them further along the coast. With the ever present ocean, Alex also spotted a dense forest and an old cemetery which the driver -Jack - pointed out was Eagle Hill, where most of the illustrious Collins family were buried.

The mention of their names gave Alex the opportunity to find out more. "What is with that house?" he wondered. "Why won't anyone stay there at night?"

The gruff old driver huffed uncomfortably. "Well, after Mrs. Stoddard passed away," he began but Alex cut in.

"Who?"

"Elizabeth Collins Stoddard, she was the mistress of the house," Jack explained. "The rest of the family moved away and there hasn't been a soul living there since."

"Wait a minute," Alex said. "I've heard about a woman who drowned..."

"Yes, that was tragic, just tragic. A Miss Tracy Collins. She had married Quentin, Mrs. Stoddard's cousin, but he disappeared shortly afterwards."

Alex sat back and thought this over, staring out at the cliffs. The waves crashed violently against the rocks below. It sounded like the wailing of a woman.

"There goes the Widows," Jack said.

"The what?" Alex asked.

"Many a wife who had lost her husband at sea has joined him," Jack replied cryptically.

"You mean they jumped?"

Jack nodded. "Ever hear the story of Jamison duPrés?"

Alex froze. 'Jamison? Hadn't that been the name in his dream?' "No," he finally answered.

"He came over from the island of Martinique with his father, who owned a sugar plantation," Jack explained, telling a story he'd heard since childhood. "They were hoping to forge an alliance with the Collins family business. He fell in love with someone in the great house, but the family were against the relationship. In his grief, he threw himself off Widows' Hill."

Alex sat in stunned silence. "That's horrible!" he whispered.

"On some nights, you can hear a lonely crying coming down from the hill," Jack said. "Many of us believe it's Jamison calling out for his lost lover."

Alex felt a terrible chill past down his spine. Before he could question Jack further, the cab abruptly stopped. "Here we are," Jack announced.

Looking out of the window, Jack's story had completely made Alex miss the rusted, ornate gates which ran for miles above the cliffs. "I don't see the house," Alex said, craning his neck.

"This is as far as I'm going," Jack told him. "Just take the path straight on and you can't miss it."

Alex smirked. Boy, the legends about Collinwood really had these people freaked. Hopping out of the cab, he took his duffel bag from Jack and set off through the open gates.

"Good luck!" Jack called after him. "You're going to need it," he whispered.

Alex found the road well worn and a little muddy. On both sides stretched the forest he'd spotted earlier. It seemed to go on forever. At one point, he thought he'd spotted stables through the trees. Maybe the groundkeeper kept horses?

Rounding several corners, Alex stopped and caught his breath at the sight before him. A few miles ahead was the largest house he'd ever seen. It was simply beautiful, and looked as if it had been built to stand the test of time. There were stained glass windows wherever he looked, turrets and ivy covered walls. No wonder the town wanted it fixed. The place was like a monument. His heart beat a little faster. If this was where he'd be staying, it would be the nicest setup he'd ever had!

He found himself running toward the house. The closer he came, the more details he could see; including signs of disrepair. He would definitely have his work cut out for him. Finally, he reached the front door, set under a pillared overhang.

The mahogany doors were huge, complete with brass knockers. Lifting one of the heavy ornaments, he banged several times. The echo resounded from within. It didn't take long for someone to answer.

"Hello?" a woman with a racuous voice answered. Alex observed the rather small woman. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and wore a flowing silk dress. She looked to be in her mid-forties. "You must be the new handyman?"

It took Alex a moment to register her question. "Y-yes," he said.

"Come in," she offered. "I'm Mrs. Virginia Blake and you are?"

Alex stepped inside the grand foyer and gaped at the beautiful floor, paintings and crystal chandelier. "Just call me Alex," he said.

"Welcome to Collinwood, Alex," she smiled. Leading him into the drawing room, Virginia watched as he took in the ancient home. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"What? Oh yes, it is," he said, marvelling at the antique furnishings and the enormous fireplace.

"We're hoping that you can make it grand again," she purred.

"I'll do my best."

At that moment, a dark figure descended the spiral staircase. Alex was familiar with his sort - surly to the extreme. The man was about his age, with dark hair and wearing a black turtleneck and jeans.

"Alex, this is my nephew Cristoff," Virginia told him. She turned to the new arrival. "This is the man that will make Collinwood great once more."

Cristoff mumbled a few indistinct words, and Virginia's tone suddenly changed. "Cristoff, don't you have work to do outside?"

He nodded, staring daggers at Alex as he left. Virginia noticed this and tried to change the subject. "Now, why don't you get settled in? We have a room ready for you upstairs..." She trailed off, seeing Alex's far away expression. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, it's just that I have the strangest sense of déja vu," he said distantly. He shook his head, feeling very silly. Virginia was looking at him as if she expected him to say that. "Um... how long have you been working here?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

She walked around the sofa, feeling the soft fabric lovingly. "Oh, my mother used to work for the Collins family. I still feel at home here, and you should too."

Alex moved through the drawing room, taking in the faces of each portrait along the wall. He assumed they were all Collins ancestors. He stopped by one sitting beside the window. Beneath it was a little table with a boquet of lilacs. "Who is this?" he asked Virginia.

"That is Angélique Collins," she explained with reverence, moving up behind him. "A great lady who lived here in the seventeenth-century."

"Angélique," Alex whispered. She was beautiful... almost hauntingly so. Blonde hair hung in rivulets around the delicate face, a white dress clung to her like a cloud, the glacial blue eyes stared out of the painting as if... as if they were alive...

Tara (Starwind Dancer) is next!