Heart's Desire 5

---

Brothers of Mercy Hospital
Day of Alex Krycek's accident

Osebo's new body hummed at the sensations washing over him. He could actually feel the pain of this place. The entire building was covered in it, feeding him. He hadn't felt anything like this since he visited a temple of worship in the slave quarters of the plantation he worked on. But while the temple was filled with love, this building was filled with so much delicious pain. He had always preferred feeding on love, it was harder to gain and tasted so much sweeter then pain or suffering. It was much more satisfying then pain. However this thing called a hospital was filled with pain, sever, blinding pain, pain he could feed on.

Slowly he lifted himself out of the bed. He was still reeling from his injury from the accident, but soon, after feeding that little annoyance would disappear. His host body's former occupant had thought it would slow him down; instead it had been the pathway for Osebo to trap the spirit, sending it into the land where he kept his former pray. He could still feel the connection to Alex, still wanted it. It was necessary for him to upkeep this connection so that he could continue to use Alex's body. A dead host was too draining, too needy to sustain him.

Osebo moved down the hallway, trying to find his next conquest. An orderly intercepted him, concern and attraction coloring the orderlies perception, giving Osebo an opportunity for his first meal.

The orderly wrapped an arm around Osebo's new body, supporting his weight somewhat. A hand gripped his new elbow tightly, guiding him back to his hospital room. With care the orderly helped Osebo back into bed, taking every advantage to touch and stroke the beautiful man he saw, not seeing the evil that lurked behind those emerald green eyes.

Osebo thanked the orderly, fluttering his lashes, knowing what the effect would be. It didn't take long for Osebo to catch his next fly in his web. The orderly was soon sitting on his bed, stroking his hands over Osebo's fine, silky white skin. The movement caused him to shudder. This body was much more sensitive then a lot of the other one's he'd inhabited. Much more sensitive and self-serving. In no time at all the orderly was kissing him, their tongues dueling for dominate pleasure.

The orderly slipped his hand under Osebo's paper gown, his hand quickly grasping his erection. At this point, not wanting a slow seduction, Osebo took control, pulling the orderly down next to him then rolling himself over the orderly. Blinded by the lust filling him, Osebo humped the orderly wildly, their hands entangled around the other's erection.

It wasn't long until they reached their conclusion and bringing with it the consequences of their actions. The orderly lay limp against the hospital sheets, his eyes no longer capable of offering comfort to the sick. And Osebo felt much stronger. He was then able to fix the pain in his leg, knitting the bone fragments together. He would have to work at getting the cast off, however without the grinding of bones he would be better able to walk to his next victim, claiming him or her so that he could fix the rest of his body then he would move on out of the hospital to hunt new pray.

It would be difficult to escape from a building filled with so much pain and suffering, but he had learned quickly to leave behind the trail of bodies, so that he might remain free.

* * *

Spirit World
In a time outside of time, in a place outside of place

Mulder watched the embers of the fire. His mind really on other matters. Alex lay pretty much curled in his lap. His fever had broken nearly an hour ago but still Mulder was worried. Alex would shake and twist in his lap, only soothed by touch. He would call out for him, pleading for Fox again and again. But no matter how Mulder reassured Alex that he was here, the young man didn't hear him.

He had to admit it, he was afraid. It was an emotion that he was both all too familiar with but still a stranger to. Oh, he was afraid at time, his job required it. But that fear was easy to deal with. Mainly he just ignored it so he could survive whatever situation he was in. It would resurface later but didn't have the same impact as an emotion did when staring at his own mortality.

No, this was a fear that could not be ignored, passed off, or suppressed. It was a fear that drove him to find a cure for Scully, to find the answers for his mother after her stroke. But here and now he could do nothing. There was no way to act. There was no option to move, to direct his energy elsewhere. There was nothing he could do and that cut into him more then he could possibly imagine.

But it never occurred to him to leave, to get up and move. Alex was here and here was where he needed to be.

The embers popped, collapsing even more. He had pretty much used all the firewood in the cabin. There was no other source of light in the cabin and if he wanted to continue he would have to leave Alex for a little while and search for firewood.

Reluctantly, Mulder checked to see that Alex was secure. Since the fever broke, he had not tried to get away; instead he stayed curled up in a ball, occasionally shaking with whatever nightmares were plaguing him. But Scully would be proud of him this time, he was being cautious, planning out his actions.

Once Alex was tied up to Mulder's satisfaction, he cautiously opened the door.

The landscape had changed drastically. The warped sliminess had transformed into a slightly different twisted nightmare. A slushy snow that resembled pea soup covered the ground, making it look almost like a swamp turned evil. The dripping vegetation had mutated, turning into some type of clinging fronds that stretched out, reaching for something only it would want. It almost seemed like it was trying to lap up the snow like a hungry dog.

The smell of the air was so sickening it made him retch. It smelled of old, rotting flesh left out too long in the sunshine in the middle of summer. Even when he covered his mouth, it wormed its way into his nose, turning his stomach.

But he would have to venture out in this if he were to gather the firewood necessary to keep himself and Alex warmed. Slowly taking a deep breath, controlling the urge to gag, Mulder moved out into the wasteland.

Cautiously he walked through the sickening snow, trying to step on clear patches of land, avoiding the swampy patches. In longer time then he had hoped, he made it to the log pile he had seen out of the corner of his eye and discovered that it was partially shielded from the storm by a grassy overhanging. The wood was relatively clean and it offered shelter for the pair of totems.

When he saw the fox, it raised his head, staring deep into his eyes, almost like it was daring for him to comment. The rat was curled up next to the fox, both of them in a depression in the ground, like a little burrow.

"Believe me, I'm the last person to complain. I only wish my rat was as well off as yours."

The fox didn't say anything. It got up, stretched out partially, like it was waking up from a dream. It circled around the depression a few times. The rat woke up, it's small little nose sniffing here and there then ran off, following whatever smell attracted it.

"Hey, don't go," Mulder said, intending to run after it but he stepped in a huge puddle of the slushy grayish snow and stopped in disgust.

*He was cold.* the words spoke themselves in Mulder's mind. He knew it was the fox talking about the rat. *He will be back. But it is time for you to move on.*

"No way. Alex is still too sick. I have to stay with him."

Mulder then had the incredible feeling that the fox was laughing at him, like it knew something he didn't. But he didn't feel insulted. It was more like a laugh or a smile a grandmother indulges her small grandchild when he says he's going to marry her.

"And what are you so smug about?"

The fox didn't answer, only sat back down in its impression in the ground waiting for Mulder to complete his task. Soon Mulder had as much firewood as he could carry and was making his way back to the entrance of the cabin.

A long wail of agony and somebody was calling his name. Mulder dropped the wood at the door and rushed to Alex's side. The young man was desperate, struggling for something, crying out in fear and want.

"Shh, Alex, I'm here, right here and I'm not going anywhere." Mulder pulled Alex to him, holding him tight and stroking whatever came under his hands. Alex calmed somewhat, his eyes turning towards Mulder in the first hint of recognition since the fever took him fully.

"Fox..."

"I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you, Alex. You're safe. I'll protect you," and the words were much truer then Mulder had thought. Somehow he knew that he would walk to the ends of the earth to help Alex, that whatever connected them together would never be broken again. He was tired of fighting it, he was tired of denying it, and now that he had accepted it, he would never part willingly.

He ran his hands through that silky black hair. "I love you," Mulder said, leaning down to kiss Alex lightly on the forehead.

Alex smiled at him, as if some great weight had been lifted off his chest. He closed his eyes and slipped off into a peaceful sleep.

*Do you? Do you love him?*

"Of course I do." Mulder replied, feeling as certain of the emotion as he was of the fox being his totem. There was no second thought in his answer; he just knew it was true.

*You cannot love him. You only see him with your eyes. You do not look.*

"I do love him," Mulder yelled back at the fox. He tightened his grip harder on Alex, as if worried the fox would take him away. "I'll do anything for him. Please, help me. You're supposed to be my spirit guide."

*Do you see him with your heart? Do you see who he is?*

Mulder looked down at the face finally relaxed in sleep. Alex looked like some kind of spirit, some magical being whom he was able to capture. Alex was something rare and valuable, a diamond in the rough. Though maybe an emerald in the rough was more appropriate. When one thought of Alex Krycek, one thought of those magnificent green eyes, the key to his seductive otherness.

He leaned down to press his lips on Alex's forehead, sliding his lips across the sweaty brow.

He knew who Alex was, he saw who he was, he was a man who Mulder loved because of his strength, endurance, innovative spirit, and faithfulness. It wasn't his outer beauty that attracted Mulder, but the inner beauty, the person inside who counted.

"I know who he is."

The fox sighed, dipping his head and tail as if in defeat. *You still do not understand. This is the spirit world and yet you still only see him with your eyes. You need to see him with your heart before I can help you.* with that the fox zipped out of the door, leaving Mulder to contemplate the fox's meaning.

"I don't care what it says, I still love you," Mulder told the sleeping Alex.

Alex curled himself up a bit more. Mulder remembered the firewood and moved to add fuel to it.

* * *

The old man rocked back and forth as the energy once again built inside him, reaching its small peak before being released. The pulse of energy went out into the world, already pushing towards the desired effect.

But the old man did not dwell on that. He continued to chant, adding what strength he could to the two that would defeat the evil.

The chanting went on, the energy building up till its eventual release. Building like water behind a dam.

* * *

Mulder contemplated the fire. His eyes stared deep into the embers until the red glow doubled and all he was left with was a blur of color.

He rubbed the tears from his eyes and refocused on the fire. His mind was running about a hundred miles an hour, trying to think of how he could help Alex. This inactivity was killing him, forcing his energy inside him, making him fidget. He needed to slow down, slow his mind down and think out rationally what could be done.

The fire blurred in front of his eyes, turning into a slash of color as his eyes slipped closed. His mind started to run faster, going through possibility after possibility, talking too fast for him to contemplate. He reached mental terminal velocity, his mind going so fast and furious that he separated himself from his mind, letting it work out it's problems while he just sat and felt.

The fire popped and crackled. The sound so loud that it reverberated off the walls of the cabin but that didn't distract him. The feel of Alex lying close to him, his breath slowly going in and coming out was reassuring in its simplicity.

Mulder's senses went further, paying attention to him self. His breath moved in and out, slowing down as he reached a kind of peace within the environment, reaching that silence that is always there if one just stops and listens.

And for the first time in years, probably the only time in his lifetime, Mulder listened. The slightest sound magnified. The very air seemed to sing to him, telling him what is around him, acting as his eyes.

The peace over took Mulder, drawing him further, further into himself, forcing him to feel every inch of his body, every inch of his skin like he never had before.

His heart thumped, taking up all of his attention.

Mulder contemplated this, listening to his heartbeat. He let the sound take him away, surrounding him, transforming him into something else.

Thump da thump. Thump da thump. Thump da thump. Thump squee da thump plop. Thump squee da thump plop.

Mulder's eyes opened or rather became aware that they were open already. The sound continued and slowly he looked down, looking for the cause but strangely already knowing what he'd find.

Things had changed in the cabin. For one thing, he didn't have any skin. Didn't have any muscles or organs either, innless one counted the beating heart in his chest cavity. Barbed wires twisted around the cavity, holding the heart up. The heart continued to beat, the muscle expanding and contracting as every other heart muscle does. But this one, entwined as it was, pierced itself on the barbed wire, causing the strange heartbeat.

Mulder threw back his head laughing at the simplicity of it all. He was a bleeding heart. Lot of people told him this on a constant basis. He was a bleeding heart and in the spirit world, he could finally look inside himself and see what he was. He was looking at HIS spirit, his inner self. He was looking at him self with his heart, not with his eyes.

In his research into the paranormal it was said that to see an aura, the spirit energy of a person, one had to look side ways, it was like learning to see all over again. He never had been able to see auras but people who did said it was like looking past an invisible lid, of thinking your eyes round and pulling this strange lid away. It was only then when they could see auras.

In this strange place, what they said made clear sense. This world was not the physical world, the one in which people interacted with everyday. To learn to work with this world, he had to let it guide him, to follow the strange but understandable logic that ruled here.

The fox had told him to look at Alex with his heart, that he needed to see the other man. It was a test for Mulder to understand Alex more, to take the next step between them to help him defeat the evil that had taken Alex's body away from him.

But when he looked down, he didn't see Alex. Instead he saw some sort of mummy, rewrapped again and again until a long shapeless object lay beside him.

No, that couldn't be Alex. Alex would be something spectacular, some type of specter, like a fairy that tempted men into their worlds. Alex would be ethereal, not something dead and cold.

Alex was alive, damn it. He was life.

*What you think you will see and what you do see are not always the same,* the fox said. *You see what he is with your heart. It is time for you to return and use this knowledge to help Alex.*

"But I can't leave him. I can't... he isn't..."

*Each of your paths is different. Both of you must find your own strengths, find your own selves before you can defeat the evil that has taken the young one. You have taken your first step and it is time for him to take his.*

"Listen to him, Mulder. We need to do as he says," Alex's voice was a whisper of itself but Mulder could easily pick up the desperate need to follow, to solve this challenge in front of him.

"I don't want to go. You were right, whenever I leave, you get hurt and I never want to hurt you." The words 'I will protect you' stayed unspoken on his lips.

Alex slipped his hands over Mulder's hand, holding on tightly. His fingers played with Mulder's own, pulling at them and bending them to whatever strange logic that was running through the younger man's mind.

"Mulder, I need to go," Alex looked over at the rat totem. It was bussling this way and that, sniffing Alex. Mulder thought that the rat had talked to Alex, keeping Mulder out of the conversation. Alex stood up, walking away to follow the rat.

"Alex, wait."

"Mulder, I need to go."

"I understand," but he didn't really understand why Alex had to leave. Apparently in the time that he waited, Alex had healed, but Mulder did not trust the recovery. He knew that Alex didn't have what it took to defend and protect him self. That was what he was for, he was the one chosen to protect Alex. "But before you go, please tell me where you are. I mean your body. I can help. I can defeat this, just tell me where you are."

Alex hesitated a second before answering his question, telling Mulder that he had traveled to DC. He said this as he was slipping out the door and Mulder ran after him, intending to get one last kiss, one last touch of Alex.

He passed through the doorway of cabin and woke up with a jerk, his body suddenly pulling on him, tying him in reality.

He was in the real world. Adam was staring at him with a bemused look, smiling at him like he understood what had just happened, though Mulder couldn't contemplate just how Adam knew.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No, no I didn't. I couldn't keep a hold of him. I had him and then he was gone," Mulder said in exasperation.

Adam frowned, not understanding why Mulder had failed.

"I found my totem, he led me to Alex and helped me help him, but I didn't get what I wanted. I don't know where he is, really, or how to help him. I saw him with my heart, but I don't know what good that's going to do me. Are they always this mysterious?"

"The spirit world is very confusing. Sometimes they don't event talk to you in words, just pictures. It's like learning a different language." Adam grinned as he put away the objects from the spirit bag into the pouch. "You have answers, you just have to learn how to use them, learn what questions they are to."

"Ug, why can't anything be simple."

"Think how complicated things would be if you didn't go to the spirit world. You know more now then what you did a few hours ago."

Mulder looked at the clock to see that it was indeed hours later. In fact time seemed to flow slower in the spirit world then in the real world. He couldn't understand why that was. Time should have moved faster, like time in dreams.

Mulder didn't have a chance to follow his thoughts down or chase any theories his mind made up before Skinner was pounding on the door yelling something about finding him.

* * *

Back in the Spirit World

I make my escape from Mulder as quickly as I can. I don't want him anywhere near me. People near me usually end up dying and now people I'm interested in are killed by the spirit inhabiting my body.

I don't want to see Mulder in my dreams or in my nightmares. No matter how badly I want him.

And I do want him. I know that somehow with him I'll be safe. He's my comfort, my sanity, as ironic as that sounds. These feeling are enormous in their depth and complexity and I'm not sure how to handle it.

I know I want him, I want to be near him and maybe, just maybe try to have a relationship with him. But that's not possible now. If I get anywhere near Mulder, if I touch him, my touch is now deadly. If I love him, I'll kill him.

But that's just an excuse.

I can't love him because I won't. If I love him it won't kill him but it will kill me. Mulder's life is a vortex that sucks anyone down into its maw. I don't think I have the strength to survive in that world.

I finally take note of my surroundings.

Softly rounded hills tower over me where ever I look. Short evergreen trees cover the whole landscape. But these trees aren't short because they're young, but because of the howling wind. I look down and see that the hills are actually the rounded tops of a mountain I apparently climbed in my musings.

The huge rat is still moving in front of me. About the only reason I followed it when escaping Mulder was because it wasn't like the things outside. I felt safe with it so I absentmindedly followed it, letting it lead me where it may like a road hypnotized driver.

It had led me to beauty. It would be wonderful to take a vacation in this place, just me and Mulder.

And maybe some picnic supplies.

That would be nice. Mulder spread out on a picnic blanket, me snuggled in at his side.

I would hold him close to me, content on just feeling him near me.

But Mulder wouldn't. I could see him in my minds eye, nearly feel him as he touched me.

He would kiss me in my hair, following it around to my forehead. He'd be a frustrating bastard and skip over my mouth, choosing instead to suck on my neck.

He'd leave a bright mark of ownership. Then he'd bite his way down to my collarbone as he started to strip me.

He'd be naked from the outset.

Hedonist.

I'd feel that long, delicious prick in my hand, so hot and hard for me.

But he'd control the action. He'd controlled what happened to me, of whether the bruises on my skin are from punches or kisses. He'd have total control over me, using me like some gigantic blow up doll, dragging me around to fuck whenever.

I'm not sure if that idea frightened me or aroused me.

I'd settle for arousal for now. It's my fantasy.

He wouldn't play with my dick. He'd want to draw it out, let me come from just the feel of him fucking me.

He'd pull my pants down, using those very large hands, very sexy hands to stroke up and down my legs. I'd part them willingly, giving him access to what ever he wanted to touch.

And boy, would he touch. He'd touch my ribs, my stomach, sliding his hands over each and every sensitive part of my body, again and again.

He'd wait until he couldn't hold back anymore then he'd slide into me.

I'd part for him, like a bitch in heat.

Oh God, I need to sit down. Can I have a break Mr. Rat?

He'd fuck me hard, like some piston driver, intent on the one goal of making me nuts. And he'd do it.

His cock would feel so large in me, nearly breaking me in two.

And his mouth. That would be busy on my nipples, sucking and biting as only he can do.

And his hands, they would finally be touching me, pulling at me, rubbing that spot just behind the head. No wait, he'd be playing with the head, rolling the foreskin back and forth so gently, in such contrast to his other harsh actions.

Finally he'd jerk me hard, forcing my orgasm out of me, continuing to fuck me blind, until he comes.

Oh yeah, that's what he'd do.

And that's the very reason I have to stay away from him.

I hold my semen-covered fingers out for the rat, wondering if it'd lick it off. It comes over and sniffs at it, just like it sniffed and investigated everything else.

*Really,* it's voice whispers in my mind. I jerk back in shock. I know Mulder's fox thing talked to him. It took me a while to figure out I was listening to just one side of the conversation but I never actually heard the fox or the rat talk.

But I adjust to surprises easily. Apparently the rat knew that because soon it was starting to scurry away, intent on leading me where ever I'm supposed to go.

I looked around for somewhere to wipe my hand but didn't really see anything but rocks and dirt. I didn't want to wipe it on my jeans so I just sucked on my fingers.

I quickly started fantasizing that it was Mulder's seed but then stopped when I realized that'd just make more semen I'd have to dispose of.

* * *

Brothers of Mercy Hospital
Atlanta, Georgia

The ME pulled off his glove with a dramatic snap. The latex sound loud among the catacombs of the dead.

"They're dead." The ME announced crisply.

"I know that," Skinner crisply said back, as annoyed by the ME as the ME was with the FBI agents that kept him on the clock after he should have been home hours ago. "What I want to know is how did they die?"

"The same way that was written on the original report. That one died happy," he pointed to the second body in, "so did that one. The other three died of cancer, heart failure, and appendicitis."

Skinner pulled off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose and gave thanks that he usually had to work with confident people, people like Scully. Of course he usually didn't visit the morgue innless it involved an X-File and Scully was more then adept at getting the right information or a close facsimile if the case was of extra ordinary portions.

Mulder himself watched the bodies, only half a mind listening to Skinner and the tired ME argue. He had read through the case files on the flight to Atlanta. The first victim was found dead, apparently frozen to death but the autopsy showed that the victim had expired previous to freezing. The second victim was an orderly, a man who was found dead in the bed of a man who was brought in with car injuries. The car was stolen just outside of Atlanta at a service station where the first victim was found.

Two of the victims died of illnesses they incurred previous to checking into the hospital. The woman was suffering from breast cancer and was going into surgery in a few days for a mastectomy. The autopsy reports read that the cancer had traveled and infected most of her major organs. She had died in complete agony.

The heart patient had come in complaining of chest pains. Autopsy results read that he had died of total heart, vain, and artery shut down. It was like his entire pulmonary system clamped down and stayed that way. He too had died in incomprehensible pain.

The last patient was a college student who was getting her tonsils removed prior to loosing her parents insurance. She had been rooming with the cancer patient, both waiting for surgery. Her appendix had burst, causing untold pain until she died of the injury.

Two in pleasure, three in pain and no rational explanation for any of their deaths. They were all going to be listed as natural causes.

But Mulder could tell that they didn't die of natural causes. When he first came into the room, he didn't notice anything different or strange. He'd been to many morgues and they didn't bother him. What did bother him was how the corpses felt.

It wasn't anything funny like they were covered in something, but when he touched one of them, asking a question of the ME and pointing at something, the body had felt empty. It had felt like he had suddenly thrust his hand into outer space and his body was slowly being sucked through that hole.

The bodies were empty, drained of something they needed in order to survive.

He knew it was Alex, or rather the thing that had Alex.

As soon as Mulder found Alex and rescued him he was going to give him a piece of his mind. DC indeed. Of course this gave him an excuse to keep more of an eye on the beautiful man.

And he would be given a chance. The deaths so far were being ruled as natural causes. Alex wouldn't be sent up the river for murders the usurper committed while wearing Alex's body.

It was a strange but valid comfort and he held onto that hope of the future with everything he had.

* * *

Back on the Spirit Plain

Alex gazed around the small oasis that he seemed to have stumbled across within the desolate wasteland of this strange place. He sank to the warm ground and found himself sheltered from the cool breeze by the tall swaying reeds of rye grass. It was peaceful here; safe. He could feel the warm sun on his face, could feel his limbs become heavy with great lassitude. He breathed in the sweet, heady scent of wildflowers and closed his eyes. By his side, he felt the large rat curl up next to him, burrowing down to take advantage of the extra warmth given out by his body, it's long whiskers tickling his naked flesh.

|| Naked? ||

He opened his eyes and looked down at himself, wondering exactly when he had shed his clothing and then he shook his head slowly. He was so tired, soul-deep tired... and this whole world was too surreal; like a dreamscape. He felt his anxiety begin to rise as he wondered if the security he felt was just as ethereal as a dream.

*Some dreams are good dreams*

Alex glanced at the rat, knowing the thoughts had come from the strange creature that lay beside him and yet he felt no surprise. Nothing surprised him anymore, not after what he had seen and felt.

"Is this a good dream?"

*For now*

A deep sigh flowed from his parted lips as Alex relaxed, his green eyes following the movement of fluffy white clouds as they drifted, lazily, overhead. He started to see images in the clouds... objects, faces, and he chewed thoughtfully on a blade of grass as those images whirled around his head. As ever, Fox Mulder came into his thoughts, and he smiled softly, in remembrance of the closeness they had found during these past few days.

*You must see him with the heart*

"Hmm?"

The rat declined to repeat his words, but Alex realised that it was unnecessary, anyway. Deep down, he understood what it had said. His old tutor, Vassily Peskow, had said something similar to him once; 'The eyes deceive, the mind deceives... you must look from the heart'. Momentarily, he wondered what had happened to the old assassin. Had he gone back into retirement? Did he even still live? Or had he become as expendable as the rest of them? He sighed again. It did not matter. The old man was a shadow from his past; and he had forced that particular shadow into the furthest, darkest corners of his mind, along with the other memories that came with that ill-fated trip to Tunguska.

"Look with the heart."

He murmured softly to himself as he tried to see beyond the delectable wrapping and into the core of the other man; Fox William Mulder - his *lover*. That word sent a tingle through his body; a warmth radiating outwards from the pit of his stomach and along his nerve endings until it reached the pleasure centre in his brain. His hand crept down to softly stroke along the length of his slowly filling shaft, enjoying the sensation of flesh firming and thickening beneath his light caress. He teased along the slit, smearing the precome over the head, easing the dragging friction around that small, extra-sensitive area that was a key to the powerful physical sensations that would sweep over his highly-tuned body. He was a sensual creature; had used his own body to give and receive pleasure with wanton delight - choosing his partners carefully so he could avoid becoming jaded like some world-weary whore. And yet, in retrospect, none of his previous partners had filled him the way Mulder did; none had taken him -body, heart and soul until Fox Mulder.

With the delicious sensations sending licks of fire from his head to his toes, Alex smiled softly to himself and centred his thoughts on Mulder, amazed when an image formed with surprising ease. To his heart, Mulder was like a big, gentle puppy with oversize paws that tripped him up. For such a complex man, the simplicity of this image was astounding... and yet, believable. Mulder was a puppy that had been kicked too many times, wearing a pleading yet world-weary expression seen in large liquid eyes. There was a wariness of the ill-used, with a contradictory desire to give all, unconditionally, in return for some semblance of love.

The thought made Alex sit up, his erection softening instantly, his movement dislodging the quiescent rat from his side. Was that how he saw him? Was that why he had failed time and time again to connect with this man - until recently? He huffed in annoyance. Surely there was more to his desire for Mulder than the need to cuddle a *pet*. He looked harder, deeper, and realised that he, himself, was so similar, needing the unconditional love that only Mulder could offer - if he was only willing to strip away the layers of defence he had built up aound himself to protect him from the pain of an unforgiving and cruel world.

Now he had seen Mulder in his true self - or at least, as he perceived him, the Russian knew he could easily hold onto that heart forever. Mulder had reached out to him, had offered everything to him, unconditionally. All he had to do was reach out a hand and it would be grasped and held.

"But this is just a dream."

*You are his heart's desire... and he is yours, if you would only trust*

"How? How do I learn to trust?"

*You must let him strip away the layers... reach the core*

"I don't understand?"

*You will*

--ooOOoo--

"Oh God!!!"

I feel the pain sear through me as I am wrenched, momentarily, back into my own body in the real world before returning to this place of dreams and nightmares. It was always this way when Osebo killed. It was if the monster temporarily lost control of his grip on my body when he fed his blood lust.

"Oh God!! Please... let her go."

This time it was a young woman that I saw momentarily. Now, I could feel her body and mind cave into Osebo's animal magnetism; too weak to fight the power of his seduction of her and yet, unlike with ealier victims, Osebo made no attempt to plunder her virgin body despite the temptation. He was feeding, pure and simple, on her terror even though lust would have added greater sweetness to the meal.

I could feel her thoughts for just a moment as they merged with my own - frightened, pleading - and I want, so much, to comfort her. She tries to cling to me; I try to hold onto her but she is slipping away. She screams out to me, begging.

*Please!!!*

"I can't help you... I'm sorry... so sorry."

I see her in front of me now. I see her terrified eyes... blue like the sky on a summer's day... but our fingers are slipping. She is slowly fading away, her spirit body becoming transparent even as she is dragged away from the small oasis. With a scream of terror, our fingers lose their grip and she is thrown into the maelstrom that surrounds this place. I fall back onto the soft grass, arm still stretched out before me, fingers empty. My horror-stricken mind reeling at the abruptness of it all.

I know *he* has killed others, I have felt their horror too - but I never saw them so clearly, never saw the abject terror in their eyes when they realised they were feeding the creature with their very souls.

My memory replays the cries of the others who have fed Osebo... our first victim, with his thick tongue filling my mouth; the second, who screamed out his ecstatic death as Osebo took his lifeforce - and his car. That one had been just outside of Atlanta; I can still remember the feel of his hardened shaft deep-throating me as he came, and died. Others were just hazy, half-remembered images, like a nightmare that fades when you awaken leaving behind only an impression of the malevolence and fear that chilled your soul.

Overhead, the sky has turned grey and menacing, the cool breeze building in strength, whipping the tall grass until it lashes against my naked flesh. I search for the great rat but he is gone from my side, driven away by the shock and terror that now permeates my former sanctuary. I glance around, wildly, seeking the refuge that has been lost, seeking the warm presence of the rat that seems to have abandoned me.

My heart freezes as I feel the build-up of more terror, slowly filling me.

|| So quick? ||

The image is fuzzy - and I pray that I will be spared the intensity of another death as Osebo reaches out to yet another victim; a victm who's terror seems all the greater, as if she had just witnessed the desecration of the girl and knew *he* would turn to her next.

Her death cry is softer, less intensive, as if she had already accepted the inevitable but I see her elderly face, all too briefly, before she is ripped away... feel her extend compassion to *me* as our spirits merge for a moment in time.

"When will it end?!!"

I cry out but the wind whips the words away from me and no answer is heard. I have seen the wraiths of Osebo's past victims and I cry out for the ones who have joined their rank since Osebo took over my body. I cry out in despair; a scream of anguish as I wonder how many others will die before I can free myself of this demon.

--ooOOoo--

The old man chants harder, his voice rising in intensity as he feels more souls join the ranks of the demon's victims on the spirit plain. Momentarily, he can hear the cry of desolation as the soul of the beautiful new host cries out in pain and anguish, and he wishes he could spare enough energy to comfort the tortured man.

Instead, he continues his chant, the words flowing along the lines of force between the two worlds, building an armoury for the coming battle.

He pauses, temporarily, and glances sideways at the young man who has stayed beside him these past few hours.

"It is time. They are close in body... closer still in spirit. You must send the fox to the other world."

--ooOOoo--

A Hotel Room
Atlanta, Georgia

Mulder rubbed his hands over tired eyes as he read through the coroner's reports on the recent mysterious deaths at the hospital. Natural causes. He sneered in amazement but knew there was nothing in the physical world that could explain away the coincidence of two women dying in the same room, almost simultaneously, from natural causes. However, his trip to the spirit plain had left him feeling acutely aware of more than the mere physical. He could sense the absence of their souls - for want of a better word.

Strangely enough, he had been asleep at the time of death stated on the report - and yet he could swear he had dreamed of them; had seen their souls being devoured... had heard his lover cry out in despair.

"Alex. Where are you?"

All Mulder knew for certain was that Alex was close; he could feel a resonance, a thrumming through his entire body; a remembrance of the feel of that precious soul lying close-held in his arms. Mulder screwed his eyes shut tight, his lips pressed together hard. He was still angry that Alex had lied to him, telling him that his body was in DC when, in fact, Osebo was here in Atlanta.

Why? Why had Alex lied, especially as he was the only person who could save him from the beast that had enslaved his soul?

|| He's protecting *you*, stupid. ||

But why?

Sighing in exasperation, Mulder reached out and closed the report; it told him nothing new, except that Osebo was feeding, becoming stronger with each soul he consumed. But what of Alex? Did his hold on his body grow weaker still as Osebo grew stronger? Was Osebo slowly digesting the very essence of the man he loved even as he sat here wondering what the hell he could do about it? His thoughts returned to those last moments on the spirit plain when he looked with his heart upon the mummified body of his sleeping lover.

*What you think you will see and what you do see are not always the same,* the fox said. *You see what he is with your heart. It is time for you to return and use this knowledge to help Alex.*

What did it all mean? Why did he see Alex like something out of a Boris Karloff movie?

*Do you see him with your heart? Do you see who he is?*

"This is ridiculous."

His voice seemed to echo around the small, impersonal room and, for the first time, he became aware that he had not switched on the TV set. He frowned, wondering why it stood dark and silent in the corner when his first instinct, no matter where he was, had always been to destroy the silence with its incessant background chatter. He stood up, intending to remedy the situation, but found his legs unwilling to move him across the room to where it stood. A strange sensation tightened in his chest as he realised that, for once, he found peace and security in the silence surrounding him. Mulder allowed his legs to fold up beneath him once more but made no attempt to pick up any of the reports scattered across the bed. Instead, he let his thoughts return to Alex, and the strange image he had of his lover wrapped in layer upon layer of tight bindings.

|| Unwrap him. ||

"Yeah, sure."

His sarcasm seemed to bounce off the very walls of the room to hit him, squarely, in the heart itself but he closed his eyes and tried to recapture the vision of Alex that his heart had revealed to him. Mulder frowned as the image that crept into his head; a hand reaching out to grasp the exposed end of the binding, slowly unwinding the white linen from around the long, shapeless object that he, instinctively, knew was Alexei Krycek. Time seemed to flow backwards as the cloth was slowly peeled away and then, instead of seeing white linen, he saw emotions, but not just anyone's emotions; *his* emotions. Mulder recognised his own fear of losing Alex, wanting to protect that vulnerable man from the dangers he faced in both the real and the spirit world; he saw love fade back into desire, watched as time receded to show him the birth of desire, wrapped in confusion and anger as his cheek was seared by a single kiss.

Visions came to him, sometimes so fast that his head was spinning, sometimes with a agonising slowness as he fought to decipher the hidden meaning behind each body blow he had dealt to that beautiful frame.

Gradually, his mind travelled back through the long years, stripping away the emotions that he had wrapped around his mental image of Alex. The linen turned grey and dirty, and Mulder saw a blackness within his own soul as he lay the blame for everything terrible that had ever happened in his life at Krycek's feet. He blamed him for his father's death, blamed him for Scully's abduction, even blamed him for Samantha's disappearance.

|| Why? ||

The answer came as the last piece of the binding dropped from the now, fully exposed body. He had come full circle, his eyes widening in full realisation of why he had felt so many powerful yet dark emotions whenever he so much as thought of the handsome ex-FBI agent.

From the moment he had first laid eyes on the brash young man in a cheap suit, he had refused to acknowledge the power of the emotion he felt; not even attempting to understand why the subsequent betrayal had cut him so deeply.

With the lifting of the blackness of his darker emotions he saw Alex Krycek in a new light; saw a vulnerable young man being manipulated by others, saw an older, wiser Alex being betrayed, imprisoned, mutilated. Without the darkness to dim his memory of past encounters, he found a man forced to flee, forced to fight to survive; a man who had reaffirmed Mulder's belief when it was at an all time low; a man who had kissed his cheek and called him 'my friend' when he was feeling at the lowest ebb of his life -so lost and alone.

*Do you see him with your heart? Do you see who he is?*

Yes... he could see now. Alex was, and had *always* been, his heart's desire. The physical attraction had fueled the burning lust; the intelligence, the quicksilver mind had fanned the flames of desire... the passing years; that searing kiss with its silent promise that he was not alone - never alone - had burned its way into his heart, setting his soul on fire.

Mulder gave a strangled cry as he realised how long he had been in denial; realised how many wasted years lay behind them. He should have fought for Alex, turned him away from the darkness of the Consortium but, instead, he had walled up his love behind the anger of that bitter betrayal; had pummelled that beautiful face when he shoud have been kissing him; had betrayed Alex in equal measure.

Another realisation swept across him. If his love for Alex had been fragile, like delicate crystal, then it would have shattered under the pressure of the past years. Instead, they had found each other, their love as durable as the hardest, purest diamond just waiting to be polished and held up to the light.

A knock on the door brought Mulder's head snapping around, throwing him from the deep, revealing thoughts. He swallowed hard, trying to regain a semblance of control as he moved to the door and checked through the spyhole.

--ooOOoo--

Deputy Sheriff Adam Longfort narrowed his eyes as he waited for Fox Mulder to open the door. He could feel those mesmerising hazel eyes staring at him through the one-way spyhole; could sense the lanky but well-toned frame standing barely a foot from his own, separated only by the thickness of the hotel door. If he listened hard, he was certain he would hear the soft breaths exhaled from between those luscious lips.

|| Why not me? ||

Longfort knew Mulder would never return the deep feelings he felt for the FBI agent; knew that Mulder's love had already been claimed by the beautiful dark-haired man - and he knew that love was reciprocated. He had seen it blazing in those green eyes, watched them soften whenever the man gazed upon Fox Mulder; watched them flare in barely restrained jealousy and anger whenever they fell upon *him*.

He wished he had been given the opportunity to lay Krycek's fears to rest; to persuade him that, no matter how he felt about Mulder, the agent already belonged to Krycek; body, heart and soul.

The door opened and longfort steeled his expression to hide the love and desire he felt for this man.

"My grandfather says it is time."

--ooOOoo--

Back On The Spirit Plain

Mulder gazed around at the desolation. For as far as the eye could see, in all directions, there was only wasteland; a desert comprised of the detritus of human waste. He could see the burnt out shell of a car sitting upon the shifting sand like the bleached bones of a whale on a beach. Mulder approached the car but took a step backward in shock when he realised it was not empty. Inside, sat a man. The man turned lecherous eyes towards him before gesturing down to the engorged flesh that he was slowly pumping. An image of a familiar dark haired head appeared and pressed down into the man's lap, and Mulder wondered, in horror, if he was being forced to witness the man's final moments before being devoured by Osebo in Krycek's body.

Mulder raised to hand to his own mouth as the dark head pulled up, semen dribbling from the corners of the arrogantly-turned-up mouth with its beautiful cupid's bow. The green eyes held his but Mulder could see no sign of the man he loved in those lust-darkened depths.

He stumbled away only to confront yet another image, this time of a man groping Alex, his thick, pink tongue plunging into the welcoming mouth as one hand rubbed the bulge in his lover's crotch. Worse was the sight of Alex's hand pumping the thick organ in time to the thrusts of that grotesque tongue. Mulder felt rooted to the spot as he watched the fountain of come erupt to cover Alex's hand and clothing. Their mouths parted and they turned, as one, to face Mulder; confusion and despair on the victim's face as he felt more than his physical lifeforce torn from his body, triumph and sadistic pleasure adding a demonic edge to the angelic features of his killer.

*Osebo is trying to drive a wedge between you... to make you look upon your heart's desire in disgust.*

Mulder swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the fox at his side but, instead of trying to banish those horrific images, he embraced them, let the knowledge of what this creature was forcing his lover to endure fuel his contempt for Osebo - and strengthen his love for Alex in return.

The pleasure-filled face contorted in impotent rage, teeth gnashing at the perfect lips until they were bloodied; fingers turning to claws that slashed at its own ivory flesh until it hung in tattered, gory strips. Mulder laughed as he watched Osebo seemingly destroy himself.

"You're gonna have to do better than that, Osebo."

The scene of desolation began to fade and in the distance, Mulder became aware of a strip of green, like an oasis in a desert. He focussed on this place and walked onward, a warmth swelling up within telling him that he may find his Alex in that place.

*Be careful... see with the heart.*

Although the oasis had appeared to be many miles away, Mulder found his strides covered far more ground in this strange land. He paused at the edge of the green field, his heart skipping a beat as he beheld the most wonderous sight; his Alex, naked, curled up in slumber, the sleep-softened face more beautiful than he could remember, seemingly at peace. Moving closer, Mulder tried to keep his steps light, not wanting to awaken the sleeper. He dropped slowly to the ground beside his lover and reached out to push a lock of sable hair from the tall forehead. Dark lashes flickered, beating against the high cheeks then slowly opened. A beautific smile cast all the shadows aside, lighting up the face until even the eyes glowed like the purest emeralds. A husky voice purred, a single word falling from luscious lips.

"Mulder."

"Alex."

Mulder lowered his own lips to bestow a soft kiss. He sighed as hands came up to card through his hair, drawing him deeper into the kiss. His lips parted as they were lightly licked, permission requested and given as he felt his lover's tongue dip into him, caressing the silken interior, playfully tasting and teasing.

"Alex."

Mulder murmured his lover's name against the softly yielding mouth, sighing his own pleasure and relief on finding Alex seemingly safe within this strange world outside of the real one. He smiled as eager hands helped him to remove his restrictive clothing; luxuriated in the feel of skin against skin as he covered the younger man's body with his own.

The rhythm of their lovemaking was slow and easy; a reaffirmation of togetherness rather than the rutting of the deprived. Not that he didn't want to take Alex, hard and fast, to mark him with bites and scratches... but there had been too much violence between them and, no matter how benign the intention, Mulder wanted Alex to know he saw more to this man than the slaking of carnal desire. He wanted love, and not just sex.

The physical manifestations of their desire were hot and hard between their close-pressed bodies, friction reduced to a level of perfection by the light sheen of sweat and the natural lubrication of precome that eased the slide of their flesh. They rolled onto their side, hands dragging hips even closer with suddenly bruising strength, mouths devouring each other as nerve endings overloaded on the sweet sensation radiating outwards.

Mulder clung to his lover like a drowning man as the wave crashed over him, dragging him under and sending him tumbling within the churning undercurrents. He felt as if he were dying, felt his spirit floating away in pure ecstasy... as if his very soul was being consumed by the angel held in his arms.

"NO!!!"

The warm, perfect body was ripped from his arms but the cry was not his own. He opened heavy eyes, panicked by the scream of pain and horror emanating from his Alex, wildly seeking out the lost man - and gave a cry of his own.

Two familiar, identical bodies were scuffling... rolling over upon the grass, the blades ripping into the flesh of the weaker before he was tossed aside like a ragdoll.

*See with the heart.*

A moan of denial turned to pure rage as Mulder looked upon the snarling, naked Krycek, his eyes seeing beyond the beautiful shell to the malevolent creature lying within. Green eyes flared in triumph at the ease of deceit and then in fury that this easy victory had been snatched away at the last second by the weak, pathetic spirit of the host.

With a stream of vile abuse falling from kiss-swollen lips, Osebo held up his arms and called upon all his dark power.

***

The old man sensed that the time had come to draw Mulder back, sure that he had seen enough of Osebo to know him. He sprinkled crimson powder into the fire and chanted the ancient words to call back a warrior from the spirit plain. The words he spoke were powerful, but Mulder's desire to stay with his lover was strong too.

The old man smiled at that and repeated the ancient rite until the agent was whole before him, shaking and angry.

"Why did you take me from him?" Mulder asked, his eyes blazing.

The old man raised his hand to Mulder and shook his head. "You're lover needs you here now. You must be the one to find a way to bring him back to himself. You must free him from Osebo! You cannot do that on the spirit plain. There you have no power."

"Then how? I have racked my brain! I have..."

"You have not asked yourself two things."

"What are those two things," Mulder spat out as he dragged a robe about himself, feeling utterly foolish.

"How to make Osebo *want* to leave the body of your lover. He will remain there for as long as the body can be maintained without too much effort. The second then is what to do with Osebo once he has left your lover."

Mulder frowned. "I thought this whole thing," he gestured about the makeshift smokehole, "this whole going to that insane world was to retrieve him! To get his help in finding him!"

The old man shook his head and sighed. "You are not a very bright man at times, Agent Mulder."

Mulder pursed his lips at the insult, which had been given in such a measured voice, but said nothing.

"How can you get Osebo to leave this body? In the time before when he was driven out by hate and trapped within the power of the tree, my people knew nothing of what we know today. Even I, an old man who clings to the old ways, know that there are ways to make a body seem dead."

Mulder frowned and suddenly he was focused intently on what the shrewd old man was saying. What did he know of Osebo? He knew that the spirit used living things as a transport. Living things! When that body died or was destroyed he had to leave it.

Kill Alex?

Not an option.

He'd rather kill himself.

But what had the old shaman said? Make it seem like Alex was dead. There was any number of drugs that could mimic death. Any practitioner of Voodoo could tell you that. He knew too that the Gunmen had been on a wild jag trying to unearth a plot by the government to make thousand of Americans disappear off the official information tracking systems of legitimate governmental agencies. Of course the Gunmen had discovered quite a plot!

They always did. Of course they could not find any evidence to absolutely tie the government to any of it.

But they had found, God alone knew how, the molecular makeup of the drug that had been used. What was it? He hadn't been paying close attention at the time, hadn't *heard* them.

The old man saw that Mulder understood the first point, that Osebo could be made to leave Krycek's body and moved on. "Once Osebo is tricked, once he leaves Alex's body, he will immediately go into another living being. We must be prepared. We must pick our battlefield."

Mulder looked up, "Our battlefield?"

"A desolate place. One that has little or no life. You see the demon we fight cannot survive without a suitable host. His prison for centuries was also his life source. If he cannot find a host..."

"He dies," Mulder finished for him.

"In as much as such a thing can die," the old man agreed.

"How long would he live outside a host?" Mulder asked. It wouldn't do to have Osebo have time enough to find another host and then track Alex down once more.

Mulder looked into the fire and thought of Alex. Even if it meant being taken over by Osebo himself, he would fight to free Alex from the demon. He would give up everything if he could just know that Alex was safe. Thinking this he had an even better understanding of Alex's lies about his whereabouts. Even though Alex was being tortured, he would still prefer it to be he being tortured, rather than endanger Mulder.

The thought humbled him even as it made him more determined to save his love.

"But it must be soon," the old man warned. "Your young lover is strong, but no one is strong enough to survive this evil for long. Even if we succeed in destroying the evil within him, his soul may never recover."

Mulder breathed in a calming breath. "What do you mean? Never recover-will he be mad?"

The old man gained his feet with a slowness that bespoke his age, "Worse than mad, he will not live long-which could become a blessing for him."

Mulder stood and took the old man's arm, respectfully, but with determination. "I will do anything to help him."

The old man smiled. "You might just have to."

The meaning was clear to Mulder. He might very well have to sacrifice himself for Alex. For if there was no place for Osebo to go, who better to enter than the man who had *killed* his host? And he knew too, without needing to hear the old man say it, that the second thing was this. Ask himself how far he would go to save Alex.

"Anything," he reaffirmed.

The old man nodded. "He will come to you. His pride and arrogance will make it so. He will want to do it soon, before Alex can no longer appreciate your death."

"How? When will he contact me? How can we..."

The old man held up a steadying hand. "So many questions and yet you have much to do. You must worry about what you can do *now* more than the later." He turned his eyes to Mulder's and there was strength in his old eyes, more strength than Mulder had ever seen in another's. "You must go to find the Three upon who you will rely, and I will prepare for the battlefield."

Mulder swallowed hard. He knew. Somehow the old man *knew* about the Gunmen. He didn't voice this surprise, keeping silent as the old man poured water on the fire and exited the smokehole. He followed him slowly, contemplatively. What he was about to do, this creature he was about to face, was the most frightening thing he had ever done. Because of his fear for Alex.

Alex.

He pursed his lips determinedly, he would be damned, probably literally, but Alex would be free.

***

Piute, Utah
Best Western Motel Room #142

"Okay, Mulder, we have it," Frohike said as soon as he and the other gunmen had filed into the small, clean motel room. He looked at the large bed in the center of the room and raised his bushy brows, "Nice bed! I never knew the Midwest was so kinky." He whistled a bit. "Does it vibrate?"

Byers sighed in exasperation even as Langly offered his own comments. "Mulder, you know that the second floor is safer...though I guess you being an armed agent and all, you might not care about the increase in motel room robberies in the last decade."

Byers set down his laptop on the plain wooden table near the single window. "Mulder, what's going on?"

"Yeah, you call, say it's urgent..." Frohike began as he tested the bed further with a little pat. "And to bring the government zombie drug," Langly added, his attention safely diverted from motel crime statistics.

"Yeah, what gives?" Frohike demanded. "Where's Red?"

Mulder felt as if a whirlwind had entered the room instead of three men. Byers was waiting patiently, his suit impeccable as always, but Frohike and Langly were both staring more often at the room and its sparse decorations than at him as if looking for some other thing to comment upon.

"I need to use it on some-on someone." His voice had caught, thinking of the person on whom he needed to use it. "I need to make it look like I killed him for the benefit of someone...some *thing* else. You said this stuff works. Now I need to know, how well."

"Byers frowned. "Well? It works so well, Mulder, that medical examiners are fooled into thinking the subject is deceased."

"Not coroners, buddy," Langly piped in, "but M.E.'s. The heavy hitters, Mulder." His attention was firmly settled on Mulder finally, and his eyes swam behind his thick frames. "So well that until it wears off, there is no trace of a heart beat or breathing."

"And the brain activity is so minor that it has been credited to residual chemical reactions," Frohike added.

"But, the subject isn't harmed, right?" Mulder asked worriedly, chewing his full lower lip.

"That's the neat trick," Langly smiled. "The drug actually works to suspend the bacteria that might take advantage of the situation, if you know what I mean. Kind of like a suspended animation without the gadgets and gismos."

"And there is the slightest respiration, something that increases the longer the drug is in the body. Not a rapid increase you understand, depending on the dose, it can be hours or days," Byers informed Mulder, opening his laptop carry case and automatically working to hook it up. "I have several reports here if you would care to read them," he offered.

"No," Mulder shook his head. "Your word is good enough." That earned big smiles from Frohike and Langly, but a frown from Byers. "So when the drug is first introduced...would there be *any* breathing? *Any* sign of life?"

"None. Of course depending on the dosage there would be none for quite a while. It's amazing," Byers breathed.

"Yeah, and the government is using it. You don't *really* believe Lady Diana is dead do you?" Langly asked archly.

Mulder sat at the table and stared up at his friends. "So, if I wanted someone to appear dead for say at most an hour, how much would I need?"

"Depends on your delivery system," Frohike said as he sat on the bed with a little appreciative bounce.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to inject him with a syringe?" Langly asked.

"Shoot him with a dart?" Frohike added. "Or maybe you're gonna shoot him...maybe put a cloth over his mouth. Different deliver options, different results."

"What is the fastest way to get the drug in?" Mulder asked.

"Syringe," the three offered in unison. "But if you load a dart with enough it will act within minutes and I do mean *act*!" Byers added. "He'll drop, but that would give him time to react, those first few minutes. You did say some *thing* right? I mean how worried should we be about this *thing*?"

Mulder waved away the later part of Byer's statement, and thought about the options. Would he be able to get close to Alex? Could he risk it? If he lost control of the situation and Osebo was able to kill him...Alex was doomed. "Dart then. But I need you guys to be more certain of this than anything. Lives are depending on this."

"Your life?" Byers asked worriedly, the idea of it clearly upsetting him.

"And many others," Mulder confirmed.

Byers chewed his lip nervously. "Mulder, this stuff is the real deal, it will work...but in those minutes...I mean that is an uncertainty."

"You don't worry about that," Mulder said softly. "I will take care of that part." Though he sounded certain he had no way of knowing just how he would *take* care of Osebo. God what a mess!

"We could set up a little fall back position, Mulder," Frohike offered. "You know watch from a safe distance and drop anyone or anything that got in your..."

"No!" Mulder shouted. "No," he tried to sound calmer, more rational. "I...that won't work at all. I can't have anyone else there. Just me and...the target." He stared at each of his friends and they looked as worried and nervous as he felt. "You guys, thank you for coming here with it. What is it called anyway?" he asked reflexively, feeling a curious sense of dislocation come over him, a sense of removing himself from the gritty reality of the situation. It wasn't something that had ever happened to him before. Focus, sharp and indefatigable had been his mainstay his whole career. Now, he thought he might be losing it.

Alex.

There was nothing for him without Alex. It was a sad, probably typical irony, that he had come together with Alex just to have him torn away. To have admitted his feelings for the green-eyed renegade, and had those feelings returned so fully for such a short time had been heaven and hell all in one.

Alex.

"No name for the drug," Frohike sighed, easing away from Mulder in an attempt to appear relaxed. "Just the cover op name."

"Get this, Mulder. DZ!" Langly chuckled.

"DZ?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah, short for Dead Zone, like the King novel," Langly supplied.

"But that's...that doesn't make any sense," Mulder said quietly, not sure when the other shoe would drop or even if he had time to have this particularly strange conversation.

"Does anything Big Brother do make sense?" Frohike asked.

Mulder didn't bother to reply to that one.

Salt Flats Utah
Twenty-three hours later-

Mulder knew he would come. Felt it really. The old man and Adam had left him alone in this place only four hours ago. Before they had left Mulder alone the old man had had Adam place a series of stone piles in a circle with the diameter of 14 miles. The circle did not have to be perfect, but roughly estimating on a map had taken both Mulder and Adam an hour to plot out the sites. The old man had supervised the loading of the rocks onto Adam's rented pickup. The stone he had said, came from the land of their people, further east.

While Adam was out building the piles of rock at the specified locations, the old man chanted quietly, solemnly as he drew a blood red image on Mulder's bare chest. The figure was of an eagle carrying another eagle out of the fire. This image was surrounded with words that held to meaning to Mulder, even if he could see them right side up.

Once the red paint had been put away, the old man had begun to chant, a beautiful sound in the growing heat of the day. He was, he said, driving all the animals out of the circle, no matter their size. Mulder was dazed, but not to consumed with worry not to stare amazed at the strange exodus that was happening. Though there had been few animals at all, the dozens of scorpions, snakes and prairie dogs that paraded by followed by jackrabbits and the gaunt thin coyote pack surprised him. Surely the coyote would have given Osebo enough life force to find bigger victims.

Of course who knew if fourteen miles was far enough? No one had ever done this before. All they had to go on was the old man's visions. But if that was all, then it was enough for Mulder.

Once the old shaman had been satisfied that no living thing large enough to sustain Osebo was anywhere near the spot, he and Adam had left Mulder alone. Not without some last instructions, none of which Mulder could understand. He was lost. Lost in worry and fear for Alex. Events were unfolding around him like a dream. Had it really been a day ago that he had taken DZ from the Gunmen? He stared at the specially equipped dart gun set beside him. Two darts filled with DZ were already chambered. He vaguely remembered Frohike handing him a single syringe in addition to the darts and gun saying that one could never be too prepared. But he didn't recall what he had done with it.

Had he really stood patiently while the old man had drawn, with vivid red paint, on his chest? Had he really been in the sun all this time?

Alex!

Where was he? He longed to see that lovely face once more, even stretched into a hideous grin with Osebo seeing through the lovely eyes. Just one look. He would die for that.

Probably would, he mused.

He had never been so muddled before. It wasn't fear of death. But rather fear of failure. Leaving Alex in that horrible realm forever. That thought alone which made his mind skip gears and grind along like some rusted machinery. He had to snap out of his daze. There was only one hope of freeing Alex. And he had to have utter clarity of thought to succeed.

He forced himself to think back on the old man's words. Osebo would come to him. It didn't matter really if Osebo thought Mulder might be trying to trap him-as the desolate geography around him would surely suggest...Osebo's arrogance would drive him there. That and his lust to destroy Alex utterly, to make him one with him. Osebo would come and the paint, the symbols painted on his chest, would keep Osebo from entering him.

What had the old man said?

The sun was merciless, burning his shoulders and face, his bare chest.

Bare chest.

Osebo would recognize the symbol, would fear it in some visceral, unnamed way. But hadn't the old man told him to keep it hidden until the last moment? Shaken by his carelessness, he pulled his shirt on, hissing at the feel of the fabric over his red skin. What if Osebo had come near and seen the trap for its potential deadliness, and faded away? What if this was all for naught? He fumbled nervously with the dart gun and lurched to his feet. Knowing that Osebo had come and gone while he had sat stupidly in the dead sand.

His eyes were spotty from the sun and he wanted to shoot himself he was so angry. He would never find Alex now.

"Oh, you really shouldn't be alone, pretty Fox."

That voice, that perfect husky voice. Hideous that it wasn't really Alex. He turned and saw his lover. So beautiful, so damn beautiful. The green eyes were sparkling with mischief and the pink lips were parted enough to reveal white teeth. He gasped, both in surprise and pleasure at seeing that face once more. His muscled body was revealed in tight black jeans and an unbuttoned white silk shirt. He looked like a naughty angel.

Mulder's shock at seeing Osebo made the creature laugh; a mellifluous sound that made the hairs stand up on Mulder's neck.

"Pretty Fox, all alone in the sun," Osebo chuckled. "Here to save your lover?"

Mulder swallowed hard, resolutely focussing on the green eyes. The dart gun was lowered, could he bring it up and fire before Osebo could close the small distance between them?

"Is that for me?" Osebo asked pleasantly, gesturing toward the dart gun. "Are you thinking to drug poor Alex? Save him from the bad, bad Osebo? Oh, Fox, you are amusing. And what would you do when the drug wore off?"

Mulder gritted his teeth. Now or never, he thought wildly and raised the gun. "You find out," he hissed and shot. Osebo was a blur of motion as he dove toward Mulder's feet. Mulder saw the dart fly over Osebo's head a second before his legs were hit with Alex's weight and he fell back with a frustrated cry. The brief struggle over the dart gun ended with Osebo tearing it from Mulder's grasp and, after looking at it curiously for a second, throwing it out of Mulder's reach. He straddled Mulder with a lecherous grin, a lock of black hair falling into his eyes.

"Now then, pretty Fox, what shall we do?" he said darkly. When Mulder just stared up at him with furious eyes he smiled, pink bowed lips over white teeth. "Do you want to know what Alex and I have been doing? Or rather *who* we have been doing?"

"Fuck you," Mulder growled and struggled to push Alex's weight off him. He tore his gaze from the jade eyes above him, and found the dart gun. Too far! Too far away!

"Oh yeah, well fucking Alex seems to be really popular, Fox. In fact," he grinned, lowering his mouth to Fox's ear, "Alex is great at giving head now. Maybe you think he was before, pretty Fox, but there's nothing like a thousand year's experience with cock sucking to really make a pretty bunny like you scream." He bit at Fox's ear and though Mulder tried to heave him off, he chuckled and licked the flesh of his ear. "Alex, is going crazy right, bunny. He knows this routine. First the fucking and then the killing. What do you think I'll enjoy most with you? The fucking or the killing?"

Mulder felt cold despair wash over him. How had he failed? By being so fucking zoned out with worry, he accused himself.

Osebo shifted Alex's knees until they were pinning Mulder's arms into the dirt and then tore the shirt open, revealing the red painted symbol. He chuckled. "Oh this is really delicious. You have had some help from that old fuck and his sweet grandson. Fucking Indians. Gotta love 'em don't you, scared trapped bunny?" He touched the symbol lightly. "Of course this only works if I *want* to go inside you. And though I am sure I will go inside you in the crudest way possible, I am not going to be leaving Alex's sweet body for a long, long time. Long after your rotting corpse had disintegrated anyway. Long after Alex's pathetic attempts to take back control have faded." He traced one finger over Fox's left nipple. "You haven't even commented on my new arm. That's really very rude, pretty baby."

"I'm sorry, Alex," Fox murmured, not apologizing for the lack of comment on Alex's surprising addition of a limb. Apologizing for failing. Osebo knew it.

"Oh? Not as sorry as Alex is. Do you know, I think he is crying right now! Poor little Alex. Can't save you, can't save himself. What is a boy to do?"

"God Damn you!" Fox yelled. He could picture Alex, crying, beaten, hurt. He struggled fiercely almost throwing Osebo off. Osebo slammed a fist into his face, and shifted his weight to put agonizing pressure on his arms.

"No getting away, baby. No escape," Osebo promised huskily. "Alex hates this more than you do. More than he hated being the gang fuck for some bikers last night."

Mulder sobbed then, the bile rising in his throat.

Osebo grinned, delighted by his emotional pain. "Oh, that bothers you too? Alex hated it. But we killed them so deliciously too. Don't think he ever saw himself eating human flesh before. Fun. But let's get back to you. How do you think Alex would love seeing you die? Slowly probably. Piece by piece? We're all alone out here, which you probably thought would work to your advantage. Am I right?"

Mulder spit in the beautiful face. "Go to hell!"

"Oh, no. That's your job, sweetheart. That's all for you. But not just yet." He leaned down and bit at Mulder's bloodied lip. "First I 'm going to fuck you bloody." He swung another fist into Mulder's face.

The blow nearly knocked Mulder unconscious, and he struggled against the threatening darkness, fighting it back even as he felt Osebo move quickly to tear at his pants. The sand was grinding into the sun-raw skin of his back and he could only moan as Osebo struck him again.

Osebo moved down, trapping Mulder's hands now, instead of his upper arms, beneath Alex's knees. Giving him better access to Mulder's groin. "What a great cock, Fox," Osebo purred, lifting Mulder's penis through the slit in the boxers. "I am going to suck it before I tear it off with my teeth." He grabbed the soft flesh and squeezed viciously, giggling when Mulder screamed. "I haven't even started yet, and already your screaming." He slammed his fists down on Mulder's chest several times, watching with interest as Mulder coughed up pink foam. "That hurt didn't it?"

Mulder spat the bloody foam into Alex's face. "Not a b-bit," he wheezed.

Osebo laughed and dug into his tight front pocket. He pulled out a switchblade and grinned. "You probably won't be wet enough inside, and I like wet fucks." He depressed the lever and the wicked blade came out with a deadly snap. "Gotta do a little lube job first."

Mulder raised one of his legs and thrust his knee into Alex's back. The blow knocked his lover's body forward enough that he worked one arm free. He searched the sand around for anything that he could use as a weapon, a rock, anything, but found only his discarded pants. Feeling them under his hand he realized for the first time really that he was nearly naked. He could still see the dart gun, loaded with the DZ, gleaming hotly in the sun. Useless. Too far away to grab, and he knew that Osebo wouldn't let him get close to it. Even if he did, there was only one dart left. What would the chances be that he could both get the gun and successfully shoot Osebo? He had seen how fast the creature inside Alex made him move. Inhuman. Serpentine.

Why didn't he have back up? Couldn't the old man have painted the protective symbol on another person?

"I should tie you up, pretty Fox, but the struggle is so much more entertaining. Alex is begging by the way. I wish you could hear how prettily he begs. He knows what I am going to do. What *he* is going to do. He's begging for you."

The switchblade moved quickly, the intense sun glinted off the metal, and cut off Mulder's pristine white boxers. It dipped between Mulder's legs and Mulder froze in fear, his eyes trained on the blade as it slid along the length of his cock. The tip scratched lightly at the tip of his penis and he clenched his jaw, determined not to scream again. When the blade sliced at the tender flesh at the juncture of his thigh and pubis a small whimper escaped his lips before he clamped his mouth shut.

"Aren't you going to try to hit me with your free hand, bunny?" Osebo teased. "Don't you want to at least hit me once before you feel the knife inside you?" He slid the warm metal over Mulder's balls, giggling happily when Mulder reflexively stiffened. He slid the knife lower, following the deep crevice between Mulder's buttocks. "Lube you up right," he promised. "You have such a pretty body, even before it's bloody.

When the knife's sharp tip was slid ever so slowly inside his anus, Mulder tossed his head in denial. "Just kill me, you fuck!" he growled.

"In time, bunny. In time."

Mulder felt the cutting as it began. It was so slow that every nerve was treated to its own private torment before the blade moved on. All the while jade green eyes were watching him with amused lust.

"I'm getting so hard, bunny, so fucking hard. You should see how beautiful you are in pain. Probably the prettiest thing I have seen in centuries. So pretty knowing you are going to die." He bent and bit at Mulder's lips again. "Bite at me, bunny. Bite at Alex's face. Fight me to live. Alex wants you to. He wants you to kill him, but you won't will you, bunny." Osebo laughed again, his voice getting thicker with lust. "You love him too much to fight too hard, don't you? It's making him howl. But I wonder if he's getting hot too. He loves your body too, you know."

Mulder was squeezing his trousers helplessly shaking his head. "Alex," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"You know just what to say to dig the knife in deeper, bunny. Alex hates himself for what he is doing. It's so sexy," Osebo gasped. He dug the knife in just a slight bit more, the blade nearly in a half-inch already. "Any second I might just ram this inside you and tear at you, doesn't that make you excited? Not knowing."

There was something in his pants. Some hard object. He blinked in confusion for a split second before the memory came to him in his familiar, frightening clarity.

//"Just in case, Mulder," Frohike was saying. "If you miss with the darts. This is the fall back."//

Fall back. The syringe! His body arched as the knife twisted. His stuttered scream burst unbidden from him making Osebo tremble with lust. "Scream, bunny. Pretty Fox. Pretty, weak, trapped bunny."

Mulder felt the knife slide out, quick and straight. His eyes widened as his balls were grabbed.

"Get hard, bunny, or I'll chop these useless things off," Osebo smiled, jade eyes glittering with inhuman intensity. He used his free hand to unbuttoned the black jeans. He pulled out Alex's hard cock, which was wet and throbbing. Eager to play its turn at sliding into Mulder's bloodied body. He slid Alex's cock up along Mulder's inert one. Look at how beautiful Alex is, bunny."

Mulder moaned, his body reacting unbidden to what it felt. Alex's hard thighs, and hard cock. The two tips rubbing at each other. He shook his head, not wanting to respond. But his body wanted Alex. Loved the silky feel of Alex's skin over his hard muscles. Loved the black lashes shading those Egyptian Jade eyes.

"Get harder, bunny. Hard for the last time."

When the jade eyes moved away from Mulder's face to see the product of his handiwork, Mulder fumbled with the pants, trying to find the pocket. He moaned in pain, more to distract Osebo than anything. The jade eyes flew back to his face.

"Beg me, bunny."

"Please," Mulder whimpered, hiding his hatred and letting all his fears show. Osebo grinned, not conceiving that Mulder's busy hand held any menace for one such as himself.

"You never have come up against something like me, pretty Fox. You understand now that I am eternal."

The giddy pride in Osebo's stolen voice overlapped the madness there and Mulder knew the creature's weakness was his own sense of invulnerability. He gasped when his finger slid into the pocket. Osebo giggled. Mulder had to quell the urge to pull the syringe out wildly and plunge it into Alex's arm.

Have to do this right, he warned himself. One chance. One chance or you're both dead. When he legs were spread and one leg thrown over Alex's shoulder, his groan was not feigned. The cut flesh in his anus screamed, sand grinding inside like a thousand spiders biting and burrowing in.

//"Make sure you depress the plunger enough to get any air out, or whoever you're trying to pretend is dead really will be," Frohike had warned. "Safety cap, bud, to keep yourself from sitting on it." Frohike tapping the red cap before sliding it into Mulder's pocket. "Don't want to get too personal," he grinned. "You make sure it is safely tucked away." He, thanking Frohike and pushing the needle deep into the pocket//

Safety cap. He had to pull the syringe out a bit to safely remove the cap, trying to block out the feel of Alex's cock nudging gently at his torn anus in a gross parody of tenderness.

"Fucking so wet," Osebo crooned. "Aren't you gonna fight, frightened fucking bunny?"

"Please. Please just kill me," Mulder sobbed, closing his eyes to hide the hope that burned there.

"Alex doesn't want you to beg, bunny. He hates it." The pretty face smiled wickedly above Mulder. "But I adore it."

Remove the cap slowly, Mulder cautioned himself. He fumbled it, losing the syringe in the pocket. He sobbed in frustration. And then Alex was pushing inside him and for a moment all his thoughts fled in the wake of the consuming pain. His scream carried over the salt flats, beautiful to Osebo. More beautiful even than the cut bleeding flesh.

"So tight, bunny. A tight, hot bunny to fuck," he groaned. He pushed all the way in, feeling the hot blood as it slid along his cock. He could hear Alex's tormented screams inside him and that made the fuck that much sweeter. He pulled out, staring down at the lovely face of his victim. He had to admit that he had hoped Mulder would fight harder than this. But it was lovely to him that Fox loved Alex too much to fight. It made it all so delicious. Defiling love, using love as a weapon was the most glorious of victories.

Mulder found the syringe again, pulled it out slightly. He slid it further into his hand. Got to tap it, he instructed himself. Get all the air bubbles out. He held it with his thumb and ring finger, tapping with his middle finger as Osebo moved in slow, deep strokes. He shifted his fingers trying to get his thumb on the plunger. He almost let it slip again but held on, his moans of pain now rhythmic, in tandem with Osebo's thrusts. He couldn't let himself think about what was happening to him. The rape. He had to concentrate on the syringe.

Osebo shifted his weight off Mulder's left hand in order to pull Mulder's second leg over his shoulder. He smiled greedily as his thrusts went deeper, causing his pinned bunny to make little sounds of pained distress. Beautiful. His eyes moved from the joining of their bodies to the pretty face and then to the right arm. He narrowed his eyes. The little bitch was up to something. Doing something in the pocket of his discarded pants. "What have you got there, Fox? Some surprise for me?"

Mulder nearly reacted wildly, made a desperate attempt to pull the needle out of the pocket and jab wildly at Alex's arms. But another memory, this one of his father, explaining the magic card trick set he had received for his tenth birthday. Magic, card tricks, they had fascinated him. For he had *believed* they were truly magic. He had been ecstatic to receive what he thought was the key to some part of magic. When he had found that they were simply tricks in the set he had received he had complained to his father.

//"That all it ever is, Fox. Magic. You make someone focus on the hand you *want* them to and then you...do your trick. It's an art" his father had explained, reading The Wall Street Journal as he talked.//

And all his life he had been at odds with those who had that art. Slight of hand. Moving him down one path while they "did their trick" with the other.

He made himself grab and hand full of sand with his left hand, wincing as the blood rushed back into his fingers. He made himself try to look sly, obviously sly, as if Osebo had done just exactly what he wanted him to. Notice his hand in the pocket of his pants. When Osebo reached toward his right hand Mulder gave a false, triumphant howl and brought his left hand up wildly.

Osebo realized what the little bitch had done. He had *made* him notice his right hand so that his left hand could bring up some weapon. So the bunny was fighting back after all. He grinned and quickly turned to grab Mulder's left hand. It was tightly curled about something. He gripped the fist with his own and squeezed. "Very clever, Fox, just not clever enough. Poor, bunny, did a dart of your little drug fall over here?" He giggled a bit as Mulder cried out in frustration, making one last attempt to free his left hand, thrashing from side to side, sure that Mulder had something in his left hand, but equally sure that it would never be enough to harm him.

While Osebo was squeezing his left fist, smiling at it in confident pleasure, Mulder depressed the plunger a small amount to ready the syringe and in one motion pulled the syringe free.

"Sand?" Osebo said, his beautiful, stolen feature frowning as he shook Mulder's fist free of the sand he had grabbed as a decoy. He gasped in realization that he had been tricked a second before he felt a sharp pain in his neck.

Mulder had aimed at the pulsing vein in Alex's neck, praying in that moment before he jabbed it in and depressed the plunger that he had not in fact killed his lover. But death would be preferable to the existence he was living now. He would want someone to kill him if they couldn't free him.

"You lying little cunt!" Osebo screamed. "You lying..."

Mulder watched as the green eyes widened in shock, and he knew the DZ was already acting. More he knew that Osebo knew what was happening. Or thought he did.

"What did you do?" Osebo hissed, dragging the syringe from his neck and staring at it, swaying slightly.

"I love him too much to let him live," Mulder said fiercely. His voice shook not at all.

Osebo saw the truth there in those damned hazel eyes. "You wouldn't!" he gasped. "You wouldn't do..." He fell back and Mulder cried out in pain as their bodies were separated roughly. Osebo was digging Alex's hands into the sand. "No, I won't...you won't succeed. I can't...I'm eternal," he protested wildly, as if his words alone could stop his hosts from dying. He wanted to tear the lying bitch apart, but his host was dying. He could feel it happening. Quickly. Too quickly. He couldn't revive it. The heart was slowing, the consciousness was fading with every sluggish beat. He had to get out! He could barely see as Mulder pulled his host's body into his arms, bending to kiss the pretty lips he had so well used in the weeks he had owned him. He tried to lift his arms to break the cunt's neck but his host was gone.

He propelled himself out and went toward the closest host. He had to hurry. He recoiled in rage! The symbols were streaked with sweat, but still impenetrable. He howled in rage, but he had no voice to give it weight.

Mulder was thrown back away from Alex's body as some force moved out with freight train speed. He could barely see a dark from, but it was less than a shadow. He could *feel* it though. Feel the malice and the *age* of the thing. The incredible age of it. It swirled toward him with desperate speed and then right before it touched him it recoiled and shot up several feet into the air where it hovered in frenzied agitation. He crawled to Alex's side once more and cradled the cooling body in his arms. Alex's eyes were open and vacant. "Oh God, baby," he cried. Alex might not really be dead, but for the moment he was. Seeing Alex dead, lying on the sand, an empty husk, tore at him. He kissed the pink lips and closed Alex's eyelids, telling himself that he was protecting the delicate eyes from the heat and sun, but in truth it was to keep from seeing that empty stare.

He looked up at the shimmering dark form. It was lashing outward and then appeared to disappear. He remembered what the old man had told him. Not to trust the creature, not to underestimate it. What if it had just pretended to disappear? If it had there was only one thing he could do, keep up the charade of Alex's death and wait. But for how long? Would Alex come around before Osebo really did...die...or whatever it was the creature would do? If that happened, he would have plenty of time to retrieve his dart gun and reintroduce the drug. If he moved to get it now, Osebo, if he was still around, would see it for what it was. Would see that Alex had really just been drugged and would reenter him...if he could.

He waited for several minutes, the pains in his body began to scream out, and he wondered if the bleeding in his anus and rectum was severe. Ten minutes after Alex had *died* the creature spun out from the ground where it had been lurking. It was whirling about with what would have almost been hurricane force had it any real form. It *had* been lying in wait! God, how much longer would it? Mulder wondered desperately.

Osebo had waited, hoping something would change, some hope for him, though all he knew of hope was what he had absorbed from his victims, no true understanding of it. But the bitch, just knelt by his dead lover, crying. He had to find a host and yet he could sense no life forms large enough for him. Not for miles in any direction. He spun away from the two men, wishing he had just killed the bitch when he had had the chance. Wishing he had not toyed with them in that cursed cabin. Killed them! Killed them. He felt fear that he might cease to exist. Fear for the first time in all his existence. Even trapped with in the oak tree he had not been afraid, frustrated and angry yes. But not fear. He had fed off of fear for so long, drank it in like blood and semen, but had never experienced it. Hadn't ever expected to.

He hated it. And yet it drove him. Drove him to flee over the desolate salt flats. When he had gone only one mile he knew there were no hosts ahead of him, and so he turned upwards and back the way he had come from, desperation and fear overwhelming him. He felt his speed decrease, and felt his strength begin to ebb. He could see Fox Mulder ahead of him, still holding that rotting bitch corpse. He dove separately for the living host, howling in frustration as again he was denied entrance. He moved west now but he didn't get far. He felt all the consciousness begin to fade from him, all his experiences, all his stolen souls fleeing from him.

He could see them, could feel them leave as he felt himself begin to lose his center. He was dispersing out, and he shrieked. All his trapped ones had fled...all but Alex. Death would not have saved his soul! Why had Alex not fled along with the others? Unless...

He turned desperately. The little bitch wasn't dead! He tried to cover the ground between he and the two men, but it was too late. He had one last second to hate and rage and then his center held no more.

***

Mulder knew it when Osebo, or whatever *it* really was, died. Or faded out. That is what he felt. That it had just faded out. He kissed Alex's cheek. Covered his lover's face with his discarded shirt and tried to cover any exposed inch of Alex's skin. Tucking in the bloody penis, choking back bile, knowing it was his own blood. He knew from countless crime scenes that bodies could be burned very easily without circulation. The heat of the radiator beneath would burn a dead body in the trunk of a car. He smoothed his ripped pants over Alex's hands. Two hands now. He would think of that later as well. He sat there, holding Alex, not concerned by his own nudity. He had beaten *it* had really beaten it. There would be time to heal later. Once Alex was safe.

The sound of a truck coming close heralded the Longfort's arrival and he could barely look up as it stopped close to him, its tires raising clouds of sand and fine salt. He felt strong arms lift him and lift him into the bed of the truck. He sat up, watching dazedly until Alex was lain beside him. He drew the cool body close to him and was only able to smile gratefully for the water bottle that was pressed to his mouth, and to the silver tarp that was drawn over them both.

And then he knew nothing more.

Our Lady of Mercy Hospital
Salt Lake City, Utah

Mulder didn't open his eyes, but when he regained consciousness he could tell by the smell and by the sounds of electronic beeping, the padding of soft soled shoes, and by the smells, that he was in a hospital. A hand was caressing his face with a cool clothe. It felt so good he just wanted to go back to sleep, drift in a soft drug daze. But the voice that whispered close to his ear made his eyes open wide.

"Mulder! Fox," Alex breathed. He was staring down into Mulder's eyes, and there was a soft smile on his face. "Oh, baby, you're okay. I was...God I was so w-worried."

Mulder flinched at the torment in his lover's voice, a torment his beautiful eyes couldn't mask, despite the smile. "Alex? Alex? You aren't dead! I thought...I thought that maybe I gave you too much..."

Alex interrupted Mulder with a small kiss on the plump lips. "Shh. You did just fine. Just fine" He kissed Mulder again.

"Are you okay? I mean the old man thought you might be mad...or worse," Mulder fretted, lifting his hands to stroke Alex's face.

Alex closed his eyes briefly. "I think I am forgetting it. I hope I am. What I did...to all those people." He paused and Mulder saw that his eyes were wet. "What I did to you..."

"No, baby," Mulder said softly. "You and I both know it wasn't you. Please. Just tell me that you're okay. That the DZ didn't cause any damage..."

Alex shook his head. "I'm fine, Mulder. It's you..."

"No! It's you," Mulder said stubbornly. "You are the only thing that matters to me anymore." He looked a bit confused by the truth of that statement, and Alex chuckled.

"It's a strange thing isn't it? You and me?"

Mulder nodded. "But, I want it."

Alex grinned. "Let's just work on what you *want* after you get better."

"I'm fine," Mulder protested. "A little sunburn never killed me before."

Alex sighed. "That was a pretty serious burn. And we both know that wasn't the extent of it. The k-knife...inside you..." He put his face down on Mulder's chest. "I want to forget it all, but how can I when I know you won't?"

"It was Osebo. I am fine. I will be perfect when I can get you alone."

Alex smiled gently and nibbled Mulder's face. "I should let you sleep, but I can't leave you."

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up and kiss me."

End of Heart's Desire