Pieces of Me 4
The human stood as if in a trance as Armando moved toward him. Armando continued to mentally manipulate the young beauty until his eyes closed and a soft moan escaped his lips.
"You like that, human? Does it feel good?" Armando took the man's arm and led him into a deserted alley. "What's your name?"
The human could barely mumble. "Steve," he whispered, his eyes remaining closed. He found himself leaning into Armando as bolts of pleasure ignited his groin.
"Steve, you're beautiful."
"Uh huh..."
Armando turned Steve to face the wall; they were standing beyond a dumpster so nobody could see them from the street. He started stroking the man's back causing him to arch and groan with pleasure.
"Oh, don't stop..." Although he was almost completely lost in sensation, a small part of Steve's mind was trying to warn him, trying to remind him that he wasn't gay, that this stranger was dangerous. He quickly stilled that small voice when Armando slipped his hands under Steve's shirt and started stroking his nipples.
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Armando whispered into Steve's ear, nibbling on the earlobe before kissing down his neck. He firmly bit the spot where the neck joins the shoulder.
"Yes, please!" cried Steve as he jumped at the quick pain; he had never felt such an urge before, and he couldn't control himself at all.
Armando quickly stripped Steve's clothes off as the young man propped himself up against the wall. He was moaning and writhing as if he was fucking the wall. Armando laughed as he watched; humans were so easily manipulated by their pleasure centers - they had very little control over themselves. It made them utterly delicious prey.
"Please fuck me," Steve moaned, turning to look at the handsome stranger. He was rubbing his face into the bricks of the wall, desperate for any kind of friction and sensation in his body. "Please."
"Whatever you say, Steve."
Armando grabbed Steve by the arm and neck and pressed him firmly against the wall. He had already unzipped his pants and his huge erection was dripping. He kicked the human's legs apart, positioned himself, then plunged his cock into the virgin asshole. Steve screamed at the sudden penetration, but started squirming in pleasure as Armando brutally fucked him. His free arm was grasping at the bricks in a vain attempt to get some leverage.
Armando drank in the whirl of emotions from the human - the lust, the pain, the fear. He moved his hand from Steve's neck up into his hair. Feeding was best at the moment of climax, and he could feel it coming soon.
Steve managed to turn his head slightly to the side to get a glimpse of his...lover? Attacker? He couldn't remember. He could feel the pounding speed up; the stranger was close to coming. He finally focused on the face behind him; his sanity fled a moment before the horrible creature behind him roared in orgasm as it plunged it's fangs deep into the back of his neck and skull, draining the life out of him.
***
Fairfax, Virginia
Tuesday, November 30, 1999
3:00 a.m.Skinner woke slowly, not sure what had aroused him. He looked at the clock and groaned at the time. They were going to have to head back to the office in a few hours and he'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Mulder was insatiable! It was like they had finally opened the floodgates to ten years of pent up sexual passion and frustration. Skinner thought he'd have to increase the intensity of his workouts if he was going to have to satisfy Mulder on regular basis. He turned over to look at his lover and realized what had awakened him. Mulder was deep in the throes of a nightmare, sweating profusely, his limbs twisted in the sheets. He periodically let out a little cry of fear. Skinner reached over to gently wake him up when he suddenly arched up and let out a scream of such anguish, such agony, that Skinner actually fell over onto the floor in shock. The loud thump did succeed in waking Mulder up; he relaxed into the bed, looking around in a daze trying to figure out where he was. When he saw Skinner get off the floor, he started laughing despite the remnants of fear lingering in him. Skinner turned on the light before returning to the bed; he helped Mulder untwist the covers and settle back into bed. Only then did he speak.
"Fox, do you want to tell me what that dream was about?" He was sitting up against the backrest he used for reading; Mulder scooted over to cuddle up against him, burying his face in Skinner's chest.
"Talk to me," he prodded gently.
"It was...it was the last time I went to the Mercy club with Patterson. I finally remember everything that went on that night," Mulder whispered all this without raising his face from Skinner. He didn't want to talk about it, he wanted to just forget everything.
"Tell me."
Mulder couldn't resist the gentle yet firm tone of voice Skinner used. He looked up at his lover's face; he saw the love and compassion that he had never gotten from Bill or anybody. He couldn't hide anything from this man.
"OK, but just let me continue to the end. I'll never be able to get through it if you ask any questions. Promise?"
"I promise. I'll hold all questions until the end. But I want you to sit and look at me while you're talking. We're in this together, Fox - you and me. Whatever that sick fuck does to you he does to me, OK? You are not alone." Skinner pulled Mulder up into a sitting position. He placed his hands on Mulder's face to look him in the eyes. "You are not alone, OK?" Skinner let go as he saw the mute acceptance in Mulder's eyes. "Go ahead."
Mulder settled into the pillows. He pulled the sheet and blanket up to his chin, grabbing it so tightly his knuckles went white. His voice trembled a little as he began the story of that terrible night.
"It was the night before I left BSU and Patterson forever..."
***
Patterson's apartment
April 28, 1989
10:00 p.m.Mulder lay in a ball on Patterson's bed awake, staring out the window. He watched as the moon cast shadows from the window onto the floor of the bedroom. It made him think of a jail cell. He jumped a little when he felt Patterson run a hand up and down his spine; he could feel a bout of nausea come on at the thought of taking Patterson's cock again.
"Fox, baby, you're too thin. I can feel all your bones," Patterson said. "You should eat more."
"I don't get hungry when I'm on a case," Mulder replied. He curled himself up tighter. He had to find a diplomatic way to tell Patterson to lay off, but he couldn't think of one. It seemed like anything he said lately set Patterson off and sent his fists flying. He couldn't take another hit to the kidneys right now - they were aching already.
Patterson took Mulder by the shoulder to turn him over. He took Mulder's chin in his hand to raise his eyes.
"You should take better care of yourself. Do I need to have one of the other agents baby-sit you?"
"No, no, Bill, that's not necessary. I'll eat more, I promise." Mulder shuddered, hoping he had convinced Bill he was sincere. It must have worked, because his face had softened as he pulled Mulder close for a kiss.
"I want to feel your mouth on my cock, Fox," Patterson said as he ran his tongue along his lover's plump lower lip. Mulder let out an almost imperceptible sigh as he shifted himself down. He stared at Patterson's fat red cock for a moment - this cock which seemed to control his life. He felt a surge of pure hate course through his body - maybe he should just bite it off! Patterson wouldn't be able to punch him then! Mulder quickly clamped down on those thoughts at the sound of Patterson's voice.
"What are you waiting for, Fox? Obey me now." Patterson smiled when he saw Mulder's eyes look up at him for a moment, the fear readily apparent. Since the first time he had punished Fox last year he had been refining his technique. His sweet little lover didn't dare wink at him the wrong way anymore. Fox couldn't be more loving, compliant and obedient; Patterson finally had what he wanted. He lay back to enjoy the blow job as Mulder expertly worked his cock. The younger man knew his place and knew his purpose in life was to serve Patterson. Every once in a while he would bring Mulder to the Mercy club to remind him what would happen if he tried to leave - he had threatened Fox with punishment on the raised platform and once he had even threatened to sell him to the club. If he had tried to leave, Patterson would sell the bounty rights to the club and anyone who was able to recapture Fox would be amply rewarded. Fox would then become a permanent part of the decor. He remembered how Fox had almost fainted when he was told the last bit of news. The poor boy believed everything he said! As if Bill would give up Fox for anything. His thoughts began to lose focus as he felt his orgasm approach. He cried out as he shot his come down Fox's throat. He stroked Mulder's hair as he lay his head on Patterson's thigh.
"I love you, Fox."
"I love you too, Bill." Mulder closed his eyes as he submitted to Patterson's caresses. A blow job was better than a fucking - at least he could space out during a blow job; his body betrayed him when he was being fucked and he couldn't stop himself from participating. Patterson started stroking Mulder's lower lip with his thumb; Mulder opened his mouth and started to suckle on the finger. He opened his eyes to look at Patterson. He looked...happy? Triumphant? I guess it doesn't matter, thought Mulder. I'm his until he lets me go.
Patterson didn't notice the tear that slipped down Mulder's cheek. He felt a surge of energy and didn't want to stay at home. A trip to the Mercy was in order.
****
"I don't want to go! I hate that place!" Mulder stood in the corner of the room, naked and trembling. He couldn't believe he was defying Bill in this manner, but he did not want to go.
Patterson approached him with a thunderous look. He was already dressed in his usual outfit. His fists were clenched.
"What did I tell you about talking back to me?" he yelled as he punched Mulder in the back. Mulder slumped to the ground with a cry. Patterson leaned over to punch him again.
"I'm sorry, Bill, but please don't make me go," Mulder pleaded through his tears. His back was throbbing painfully, and he knew he'd be urinating blood tomorrow.
"You have no choice. Now get dressed." Patterson grabbed Mulder's arm and yanked him to his feet. He dragged him to the closet and got out the leather pants and cropped T that he always wore to the club. He threw them and Mulder onto the bed.
"If you aren't dressed when I come back, you'll really regret it." To emphasize his point, he grabbed Mulder's nipples and twisted them hard until Mulder cried out again. He then slapped him across the face and stormed out of the room.
Mulder lay on the bed crying. I wish he would just kill me, he thought; or, I could do it myself. I have no escape except death; I'll just take my gun and...Mulder sat up as he heard Bill stomping around the apartment. Who am I kidding? I'm too much of a coward. Besides, Bill is only giving me what I deserve. Just like Dad.
Mulder shakily put the T-shirt on; the pants were going to be harder to get on because of his back. He slowly stood, but couldn't straighten up all the way yet. He began working the pants on.
Patterson briefly stopped by the bedroom to see what was going on. Mulder was struggling with the pants; Patterson smiled at his success and went back into the living room to wait.
***
Mercy Club
April 28, 1989
11:00 p.m."Are Armando or Marco here tonight?" Patterson asked the bouncer at the door as he led Mulder into the club.
"Nah," grunted the behemoth who didn't take his eyes off of Mulder.
"Thanks," replied Patterson as he dragged Mulder behind him. Mulder looked back at the bouncer; the huge man gave him a wink and a smirk that troubled him greatly.
"Stay right next to me, baby. You know it's not safe for a pretty thing like you to wander alone."
"Thanks, but I'll be OK."
"Fox, don't talk to him!" snapped Patterson.
"Sorry, Bill."
Fox braced himself for the onslaught of sensation that always accompanied a visit to the Mercy. He never could understand Bill's fascination with this place. Despite the primal terror he felt every time he saw Marco and Armando, he had been hoping they were here. Bill never stayed when those two were in the club. No such luck tonight.
"Want anything to drink, Fox?" Patterson asked as they stopped by the bar.
"Just some water, please."
"Fine." Patterson was talking to the bartender leaving Mulder to look around the club. Something was bothering him and he couldn't quite figure it out. He thought the clientele looked different, and he had never seen the door bouncer before. He started to feel very afraid. He looked at the main attraction tonight. A young blond man was chained to the platform. The obligatory clamps and weights were attached to his nipples, penis, and scrotum, and he was undergoing the same sort of whipping as everybody else who got up there. There was never any variety - these people seemed to have no imagination. Bill didn't seem to notice anything different, but Mulder could feel his skin crawl. He moved closer to Patterson, trying to grasp at anything that approached normalcy. He knew he would pay for it later, but he had to try to convince Patterson to leave.
"Bill, please, can we go? I don't feel so good," Mulder said as he turned to face Patterson.
Patterson frowned. Fox was taking a big chance by expressing his own desire so openly; he thought he'd cured him of that little flaw a while ago.
"I don't want to leave. That's my final decision."
"But Bill..." Mulder stopped abruptly at the look on Patterson's face. "I'm sorry, Bill." He looked up at Patterson with his most hang-dog expression. It usually worked to get him out of some trouble.
Patterson reached over to stroke Mulder's hair. "Apology accepted. Now keep your mouth shut like a good boy. OK?"
"Yes, Bill, I will." Mulder turned to face the dance and performance floor again. He was not going to get through to Bill at all tonight. He'd have to just keep his eyes open.
***
Mercy Club
April 28, 1989
12:00 a.m.Mulder was sitting in the back of a small booth in the corner, his head nodding in fatigue. Bill was next to him, chatting away with one of his many acquaintances at the club. He hated feeling trapped like this, but Bill had found it was the only way he could relax and talk without worrying that someone would snatch Mulder away from him.
Despite Mulder's earlier fears, nothing had happened. He looked at his watch and noticed that it was midnight. They'd only been there for one hour! He wanted to cry, or scream, or something. He wanted to go home, even if it meant opening himself up to that demanding cock. Anything would be better than this.
Mulder's fatigue magically vanished when he saw Armando and Marco enter the club. Bill hadn't noticed, but Mulder was too afraid to tell him. He felt Armando's eyes instantly find him and lock on. Mulder sank back into the booth. He felt numb when he saw a couple of the bouncers pull large wooden doors closed in front of the door to the outside, and around the club some of the clientele were pulling large black drapes from the ceiling to cover the disgusting walls. Mulder began to whimper in fear when Marco and Armando approached.
"Bill, thank you for coming tonight."
Bill scowled at the impeccably dressed duo. He should have asked the bouncer if they were ever going to be at the club - what a stupid oversite on his part.
"You're welcome, but we're not staying. Come on, Fox." Patterson grabbed Mulder's arm and pulled him out of the booth. He walked toward the entrance and was almost on top of it before he noticed the new set of doors blocking the way. He slowly turned and noticed that he and Fox were the center of attention.
"OK, this isn't funny. Let us out of here now."
"No," Marco replied quietly. He snapped his fingers and there was a sudden flurry of activity.
Two bouncers grabbed Mulder by the arms and hoisted him into the air, carrying him over to Marco. They dropped him to his knees and held him down. Two other bouncers grabbed Patterson and brought him to the front wall of the club. The black drapes were pulled aside and Patterson's face went white when he saw the writings on the wall. They were unspeakably ancient and evil, and even though he couldn't read the actual text, he knew he was in big trouble. His two captors quickly stripped him out of his clothes and bolted him to the wall. He couldn't move at all. He could only watch.
Marco looked down at Mulder. He wasn't trying to struggle out of the grip of his minions, but he looked like he was going to faint. Marco snapped his fingers again, and Armando brought over a cup full of a steaming liquid. Marco squatted down to look into Mulder's face.
"My lovely Fox, I want you to drink this. It will help you be strong through the ceremony."
Mulder eyed the cup suspiciously and turned his face away. Marco looked at the two men holding him; one of them grabbed Mulder's face and pinched his jaw open. The other man took the cup and slowly poured the concoction down Mulder's throat. He choked trying to swallow the hot liquid, but managed to keep most of it down.
"Prepare him," Marco commanded then walked away. Mulder couldn't see where he went, but suddenly he didn't care. The potion they made him drink was starting to work, and he could feel himself lose control of his limbs. Despite this loss of control, he felt oddly animated. The two men stripped off his clothes and put a leather harness with an amazing number of buckles and snaps on him. He couldn't keep track of what went where. When they were done, they carried him over to a table that had appeared in the middle of the club. The D-rings on the harness were attached to bolts on the table and he was completely immobilized. He felt the feeling come back into his arms and legs, but it was useless. He couldn't move.
Mulder could hear all kinds of activity around him, but he couldn't see anything. The raised platform was moved so it was above him, and he could see the young blond man from earlier in the evening strapped face down. Mulder could look into the other man's eyes through the platform; he saw terror in those blue eyes. Standing above the blond was Armando dressed in a robe with more of the obscenely evil markings woven in. Marco came into Mulder's view; he was standing next to the table, also dressed in a robe. His robe was plain.
Marco leaned over so he could look directly into Mulder's eyes.
"Fox, Fox, you are so lovely. And yet, there is so much more in you that hasn't yet come out. I've made my final decision - I am not going to take you as my companion now. I am going to wait 13 years and then I shall take you. You will have reached your peak then, and I will halt the aging process so you won't ever change."
"Thirteen years seems to be a long time to wait," Mulder said, surprised that he felt like talking at all.
"Oh, sweet one, when you are as old as I, it's like the blink of an eye."
"How old are you?" Mulder asked. Marco leaned closer, letting a little bit of his true self shine through his eyes. Too much, and this human would lose his sanity forever. Mulder looked away quickly when he saw those ancient, evil eyes.
"Leave him alone! He's mine!" Patterson screamed impotently from the wall. Marco turned an angry glance at him; he quietly spoke a few words in an ancient tongue and made a quick hand gesture. Patterson moaned as his mouth sealed up using its own flesh.
Mulder felt his skin crawl at the words Marco spoke; he couldn't see what had happened but he didn't really want to know.
Marco turned his attention back to Mulder.
"Fox, I'm going to wait thirteen years. However, I can't have your tight little asshole fucked by every man you meet. You are too passionate and too sexy to be alone for long, so I'm going to have to perform a little ceremony to keep you pure until I come for you. With the help of blondie up there and Patterson we'll fix you right up. OK?"
"Please, leave me alone," Mulder moaned.
"That's not an option. Now be quiet or I will have to do to you what I did to your lover."
Marco signaled Armando who began to whip the blond with a metal whip with sharp barbs studding its length. Mulder watched helplessly as the blond screamed in agony, his blood slowly dripped down his sides and onto Mulder. Armando began chanting in the ancient language.
Marco took a small object and began writing words on Mulder's body in the blood. Mulder screamed when he realized it was the severed hand of a newborn baby.
"Stop! Stop! Please stop!" he cried, his terror growing as he saw Marco and Armando slowly transform into hideous creatures. Armando stopped whipping the blond when he felt he was about to die. He knelt in at the side of his victim and clamped his huge jaws on the blond's neck and sucked the rest of his life out. Mulder's mind couldn't grasp exactly what any of this looked like - these creatures were too evil to be completely grasped by the feeble human brain. He closed his eyes and began sobbing piteously. His eyes popped open again, when he heard a muffled scream come from Patterson.
Armando was standing at Mulder's side when Marco returned, holding a small bowl. They had both reverted back to their human costumes. Marco smiled at Mulder.
"We're almost done, sweet one. We have to break the control Patterson has over you. In this bowl is blood that ran from the head of his penis - don't worry, I didn't cut it off. I simply pierced it with a spike. His penis will heal quickly, as will yours when we've done the same to you. Armando?"
Armando moved down to Mulder's crotch and firmly grasped his penis. Mulder tried vainly to struggle out of his restraints. Armando took the metal spike and carefully placed it against the head. He quickly pierced the head and withdrew it, he caught the blood in another bowl. Mulder screamed and passed out.
Mulder awoke a few moments later at a few words from Marco. He could feel only a dull throb from his penis.
"We didn't want you to feel too much pain, Fox, so I damped it for you. It will heal quickly, I promise." Marco had a third bowl in his hand.
"In this bowl I've combined your blood and Patterson's - as well as a few other items I don't think you want to know about. After you and he have drunk from it, you will both be free."
Armando held Mulder's mouth open as Marco poured in half of the blood. Mulder choked at the disgusting and evil taste, but he couldn't stop from swallowing. He lay alone for a few moments as the two went to Patterson to force the other half down his throat.
Marco returned to Mulder.
"You will soon lose consciousness, Fox, and your memory of all of this will be gone. I'm going to leave a few subliminal messages for you. Tomorrow I want you to ask for a transfer out of BSU to VCU. You will no longer have any relationship with Patterson. You will have no relationships with anybody at all, ever. Your only sexual relief will be by your own hand. I want you to be pure when I return for you. In thirteen years, we will perform another ceremony and you will be my companion forever. Doesn't that sound nice?"
Armando returned to the table after giving Patterson his instructions. He sighed, regretting this whole course of action. He had wanted to take Fox the first time he saw him. Damn his uncle! Who cares about what this human would be like in thirteen years? He wanted him now! He would have to figure out a plan to get him before his uncle could complete the final ceremony.
"Fox, you're losing consciousness. We'll return you to your own apartment. Remember my instructions. I'll see you soon."
Marco stroked his forehead as Mulder faded out...
***
Fairfax, Virginia
Tuesday, November 30, 1999
5:00 a.m.Skinner grabbed Mulder to keep him from falling to the floor. He had fainted at his last words. He looked at the pale, haunted face of his lover. How could anybody have lived through that? Skinner gathered the unconscious Mulder up in his arms, hugging him fiercely, tears streaming down his cheeks. How could one fight such evil? Would he lose Fox after all? Skinner continued to gently rock Mulder as he cried and prayed for guidance.
***
Mulder's sudden gasp for breath startled Skinner. "Fox? Come on, wake up." His heart in his throat as he watched the eyelids flutter then open and confused, hazel gems stared up at him. Mulder was trembling violently, so Skinner held onto him tighter and gently rocked him. "I have you, Fox. Everything is going to be fine."
"Oh, God. Walter, Marco and Armando they looked similar to Mostow's sculptures and drawings only they were larger, winged, and more grotesque. God, they were so hideous...totally evil." Mulder wrapped his arms around Skinner's waist and scooted closer until he was sitting on the larger man's lap. He held onto Skinner as if the larger man was a life preserver and was the only thing keeping him afloat on this side of sanity.
The name was instantly recognizable to Skinner. The Mostow case was one of the few cases that he truly regretted assigning Mulder to work on. "John Mostow...you mean those gargoyle images he made?"
"Yeah...gargoyles. It was what finally drove Bill over the edge, that is if he weren't there already." Mulder buried his face into the crook of Skinner's shoulder.
"You're going to be all right, Fox?" Skinner held him protectively, kissing the side of his lover's head while soothingly caressing his hand up and down Mulder's back. "I won't let this Marco anywhere near you. I promise you that much, Fox."
Mulder raised his tearstained face to look at his lover. "Walter, I can't figure out, why now? Marco said thirteen years, but it's only been ten and a half since that night at the club. He didn't seem like the type to deviate from a chosen course, I don't understand why he is coming for me now."
Skinner thought for a moment. "Maybe it isn't him. Maybe it's the other one, Armando. You did say that they had a falling out over you the first time you met them. It could be that something happened to Marco or he and Armando have parted company."
Mulder faced paled. "Oh great, Armando scares me even more than Marco."
"Come on, Fox. Let's go grab a shower then we'll head into the Bureau. I want to assemble a team to track down these two...men. You can work with the composite artist, we'll need a sketch of Marco and Armando in human form." It felt surreal to Skinner to be discussing catching two monsters that could change their appearance. He should have been used to it by now, after overseeing the X-Files department for over six years, and reviewing all of Mulder and Scully's reports during those years.
Mulder reluctantly slipped off Skinner's lap and climbed off the bed. He started laughing.
"What?" Skinner looked up at Mulder with concern. Mulder had been close to losing it and now he was laughing as if he had.
"Oh God, I'm...I'm just imagining the looks on the other agents' faces if I were to plop down on your lap in the middle of the next budget meeting." Mulder's laughter petered out as he took in Skinner's exasperated expression. "Okay, so maybe it would be funnier if I didn't have a crazed, inhuman, serial killer after me."
Skinner stood taking Mulder's hand and leading him into the bathroom. "No, it wouldn't, Fox."
Mulder sighed. He was doing it again. How many times had he used humor as a means deal with his problems? Now he had just offended his lover. "Sorry, Walter, I wasn't serious...I would never embarrass you at work."
"Fox, I don't give a goddamn about you embarrassing me at work! I don't like it that you are making light of this situation!" Skinner pulled Mulder's naked body roughly against his and hugged him for all that he was worth. "I'm so afraid of losing you, Fox, for once in your life look before you leap."
Mulder's arms encircled Skinner's waist and his chin rested on Skinner's broad shoulder as he whispered softly into the larger man's ear, "I don't mean to make light, Walter. It's the way I tend to deal with impossible situations...that doesn't mean I won't be careful."
"I--" Skinner pulled back and looked into Mulder's eyes. "I love you, Fox."
A warm sensation washed over Mulder and he was suddenly content, he would do everything in his power to hold onto this wonderful man. No one had ever felt that way about him with the exception of Scully. "I love you, too." Mulder kissed him chastely. "C'mon, let's take a shower...then go and catch us some gargoyles."
***
One day later
FBI Hoover Building
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
10:00 a.m.Agent Matthews stepped into the conference room, carrying a manila folder that he handed to Skinner, and then he took a seat at the table. Skinner opened the folder and perused its contents, closing it he stood to begin the meeting. He picked up the remote that controlled the video projector through the conference room's PC and walked to the front of the room. He slowly glanced around the table at his team. Mulder was sitting next to Scully at the far end of the table next to the door. Mulder's usual place for a quick getaway. Mulder's eyes were focused intensely on him. Skinner moved his eyes quickly off Mulder's face as he felt a heaviness build in his groan. Unlike yesterday morning, where Mulder woke in the clutches of a nightmare, this morning they had made love until the alarm clock forced them out of bed. He scanned around the table to the other agents. Several of whom he pulled in from other departments yesterday morning to assist on the case, his eyes finally settled on Tom Colton sitting at the, ass kissing, front of the table. The A.D. was aware of the bad blood between Colton and Mulder. Skinner was the one who transferred Agent Colton to the South Dakota field office after Colton's actions on the Tooms case had nearly cost Agent Scully her life.
"Agents," Skinner began. "For those of you who have just been assigned to this case I will update you briefly on what we know." Skinner flipped on the projector, the first slide showed a photograph of Patterson's body. "Sometime during the predawn hours on November 21, former Section Chef Bill Patterson was brutally tortured and murdered at the Virginia State Hospital for the Criminally Insane." Skinner flipped the projector through several images of Patterson's body taken at different angles, stopping on one that showed the back of Patterson's head, gray brain matter could be seen from the missing section skull.
Mulder kept his eyes focused on his notes; he could not bring himself to look at the photographs of Patterson's mutilated body. Skinner's voice became a distant echo as the A.D. explained the details of Patterson's murder.
"...the wound that resulted in Patterson's death was delivered to the back of his skull and neck. The wound appears to be a bite mark, note the lineament tooth marks. It was however, ruled out as being a bite by the agent in charge of the investigation due to the lack of saliva and foreign bodies associated with bite wounds." Skinner looked meaningfully at Colton. "However, Agent Mulder has substantiated that it is indeed a bite wound."
"What! It's not possible," Colton growled, leaping to his feet.
"Agent Colton, *SIT* down," Skinner barked. "Agent Mulder will fill you and the other agents in later."
"Sorry, sir," Colton mumbled and sank back into his chair. He briefly glared across the table at Mulder who looked back at him with a disinterested expression on his face that made Colton even angrier.
Skinner clicked to the next image. It was hard to tell that the bloody object lying chained to the bed was human. Most of the agents in the room gasped, one stood up with a green complexion and quickly departed with his hand over his mouth. "Agent Mike Hatter retired from the FBI in 1991, he worked in the former BSU under Patterson. He was flayed alive, most of the bones in his body were broken, however the cause of death was a similar bite wound to the back of the neck and skull."
"Sir, do you believe that other agents working for the BSU under Patterson, during that time period, are in danger?" SAIC Johnson asked.
Skinner paused thoughtfully; the killer targeted Hatter for revenge over the way the older agent had treated Mulder during his years in the BSU. Would he target any of the other agents who had treated Mulder similarly, although not as harshly as Hatter? "It's always a possibility. We have notified most the men and women working for the BSU from 1986 through 1989 of the possible danger. However, our suspects have targeted Agent Mulder in particular..."
"Suspects?" Colton's eyes widened. "What suspects, sir?"
The A.D. advanced the projector ahead to show two composite sketches. "Agent Matthews was able to track down more information on these two men from a former patron at club Mercy where they were known to frequent during the late eighties." Skinner picked up the folder that Matthews handed him earlier and removed the diskette and inserted into the PC disk drive, he opened the file on the diskette, it was projected onto the large video screen, replacing the composites with passport photos of the two men.
Mulder fingers tightened around the pencil he was holding. Seeing photographs of Marco and Armando made his blood run cold. He pulled his eyes off the screen and onto Skinner's face; he listened to Skinner's voice as he tried to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal.
"Agent Matthews, would you like to fill the team in?" Skinner said.
"Yes, sir." Matthews stood and walked to the front of the room. Since, Skinner had assigned him this part of the case yesterday morning, he had spent all that day and late into the evening tracking down leads. He pointed to the video screen. "The older gentleman on the right is Marco Salavanti, on the left is his nephew Armando Salavanti, both men emigrated from Italy to the U.S. in the 1980s. Marco Salavanti is a wealthy tycoon. A check into his finances showed that he makes most of his money through investments. He has a multi-acre estate just outside of Annapolis. The other man Armando Salavanti has no apparent address or source of income aside from what his uncle provides. I ran a check on the two men with the Italian police, and scanned Interpol's database. There was no record that either man ever existed before they immigrated to the U.S., no birth certificates, former residences, school records, service records, nothing. Their passports had been forged. Just prior to their arrival in the U.S., there were several deaths in Italy similar in MO to Patterson and Hatter. The first was an Anthony Fabba who was in Interpol's database for dealing in white slavery. Mr. Fabba's remains were recovered in the 1982 his hands were missing from the body. The coroner's report indicated the cause of death to be the back of his skull being crushed." Matthews advanced to the next slide; he had received the images from Doctor Ferraro through the Internet. The slide was a close up of the back of Fabba's crushed skull, there were eight obvious puncture wounds. "As you can see the wounds are similar in appearance to Patterson and Hatter. All the victims in Italy were men and most had records for deviant sexual behavior."
Agent Scully spoke up, "Do you have Fabba's autopsy report?"
"It is currently being translated into English, Agent Scully. I will have a copy for you later this afternoon. Along with the other known victims."
"I'd appreciate that, Agent Matthews."
Matthews handed the remote back to the A.D.
Skinner turned to address SAIC Johnson, the Bull-dog looking agent sat straight in his chair, his attention focus on those around him. "SAIC Johnson, I want you to take a team out to Mr. Salavanti's estate and bring him in for questioning. Use extreme caution, we have reason to believe that the suspects are not human."
"Sir? Not human?" Johnson wasn't sure if this was the A.D.'s attempt at humor or if the man had lost it.
"Agent Mulder will explain," Skinner said gruffly.
Mulder stood and walked to the front of the room, he took the remote from Skinner, their fingers touched--lingering briefly. Mulder turned to the video screen and advanced the slides until he got to the images he had loaded earlier. It had taken him two hours to find an image of a gargoyle that most closely matched Marco and Armando. Not the twisted grotesque images from Mostow, but the brief image he had from the club nearly eleven years ago. The image was of a winged gargoyle snatching a naked man. "The Salavanties are...gargoyles. That is the reason there was no salvia is in the bite mark, gargoyles are not flesh and blood."
"Oh please, this is complete bullshit!" Colton was unable to contain himself. An annoyed look from Skinner quickly silenced him.
Scully interrupted, "Mulder, gargoyles are nothing more than decorative waterspouts that main function was to carry rain water off the roofs of buildings or they were architectural adornments on cathedrals."
Mulder sighed. He knew it was going to be tough convincing the team that they were facing real living, breathing gargoyles. "Why does the Catholic Church use gargoyles, both inside and outside their cathedrals, Scully?"
She met his eyes and pursed her lips. "The most common belief is that they were used to keep the evil spirits away."
Mulder turned back to the screen and advance to the next slide; it showed a carving of a gargoyle coming out of the wall on the side of a cathedral. "There are other beliefs. One is that the original gargoyles were devils that were frozen into stone as they tried to flee the church; still another is that they depict the evil spirits that the church triumphed over. Another myth was about a dragon called La Gargouille that was captured and burnt at the stake by a priest named Romanus after the townspeople of Rouen agreed to build the priest a church if he got rid of the dragon. So you see, the truth is, Scully, no one really knows the true origin of gargoyles," Mulder said, looking back at the image he had on the screen. "Were they demons or merely a medieval man's imagination of what a demon would look like?"
SAIC Johnson looked at the image on the screen; he knew that Mulder was considered a flake in some corners of the Bureau. However, the man had an incredible solve rate, and most of his cases were inaccessible to anyone but the Director and the President. If Mulder claimed they were facing real gargoyles then he'd rather err on the side of caution. "Agent Mulder, just what are my men going to be up against when they try to arrest Mr. Salavanti?"
Mulder was a bit startled by the question; he hadn't really expected anything but ridicule and disbelief from his colleagues. "There isn't much information on gargoyles, but what I found suggested that they are inanimate during the daylight hours, and move and hunt at night. They feed off the electrical impulses and endorphins in the human brain...they also enjoy the pleasures of the human flesh and are very...debauched," Mulder said, visibly paling.
Colton shook his head in disbelief. "So what are you suggesting, Mulder? That we haul in all the stone statues around D.C. on the suspicion of murder?"
"Agent Colton, if you are having a problem with this case, please tell me now. The Arkansas field office is looking for a couple new agents, I'm sure you'd fit right in," Skinner barked.
"Ah, no, sir. I'm not having a problem. If you believe that we are dealing with gargoyles, then who am I to disagree?" Colton was sweating profusely; he tugged nervously at his collar.
Skinner looked at him sternly. "If there are no more questions, you all have your assignments, I suggest you get to them. Agent Mulder, I'd like a word with you in my office."
"Yes, sir." Mulder followed Skinner out of the conference room, shrugging his shoulders at Scully as he passed her.
Colton stopped next to Scully and watched the two men step into Skinner's office down the hallway. "Now there is an X-File for you," he muttered.
Scully looked at him. "What?"
"How Mulder is able to hypnotize the brass? It's like he has some special power..."
"It's called brain power, Colton," Matthews quipped, he winked at Scully then headed off toward his cubical.
Scully smiled smugly at Colton. "Not any fun when others don't play along is it, Tom?" She turned and headed down to the X-Files office.
***
Mulder nodded in greeting to Kimberly as he followed Skinner into his office. Skinner stood holding the door, he closed and locked it after Mulder stepped through. Skinner then went, to Mulder's amusement, to lock the other door leading into his office.
"Hmm, sir, I thought we agreed to keep our work and play separate."
"Shut up, Fox." Skinner held Mulder's face between his two hands and leaned in for a kiss. "How are you holding up?" he asked as he pulled away and looked into Mulder's amused eyes.
"Better than I thought I'd be...but that would be your doing, it's nice not having to face this alone." Mulder's arms wrapped around Skinner's broad frame and he leaned against the larger man's body, relishing the strength of the man.
"If I had my way you'd never have to face anything alone ever again."
"Is that a proposal?"
"Hmm, what if it was?"
Mulder pulled back and gazed at Skinner's face, trying to determine if he were serious. "The answer would be yes. I'm tired of being alone...I want you as part of my life. Walter, I've never been happier than spending these past two weeks with you." Mulder's heart skipped a beat as Skinner's face lit up with a big smile.
"Good, we'll discuss living arrangements as soon as this case is over." Skinner hugged him warmly then reluctantly let him go. "Now get your butt back to work, Agent Mulder."
"Yes, sir." He grinned and started for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob he turned back to look at Skinner. "We should have more of these discussions, sir, they are certainly morale builders," he said as he pulled open the door and quickly stepped out not giving his boss time to respond.
***
Annapolis
Marco Salavanti Estate
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
2:00 p.m.SAIC Johnson stood on the sprawling lawn of the large brick mansion and looked up at the stone gargoyles perched atop the roof. He and his men had spent the past two hours searching the estate for evidence to tie Salavanti to the murders. Marco Salavanti was conveniently absent. The servants claimed that he was out of the country on business. Johnson pulled the image that he had of the gargoyle that Mulder claimed closest resemble Salavanti as he continued to gaze up at the half-dozen gargoyles. The one over the front entrance most resembled it, right down to his large wings and toothy mouth.
Johnson pulled his cell phone from his pocket and arranged for a crane to be brought in within the hour. He realized that he might be making himself the laughingstock of the Bureau. One of his men stepped up beside him.
"Ugly mother fucker isn't it?" he said, looking up at the gargoyle that had his SAIC's attention.
"Good observation, Peterson."
"You don't believe...?"
"That it is alive? I don't know...I've seen stranger shit," Johnson said.
"So are we going to arrest it? Because if we are, I think we'll need larger handcuffs," Peterson joked.
"I'm bringing in a crane to remove it from the roof and I intend to have it locked up in Annapolis city jail."
"Oh, you can't be serious!"
"Peterson, someday you'll realize that it is always better to err on the side of caution."
***
FBI Hoover Building
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
3:30 p.m.Mulder answered his phone. "Mulder."
"Are you ready to leave?" Skinner's gruff voice asked.
Mulder frowned looking at the clock. "It's still a bit early, Walter."
"I want to be out of here well before sunset. Salavanti will know by now that you are no longer staying at your apartment or mine. If your theory is correct, I don't want to chance leaving here after dark. He may be getting desperate to find you, and I wouldn't put it past him to stakeout the Hoover Building."
"Walter, we need to go to Annapolis first, SAIC Johnson has hauled in a stone gargoyle and has it locked in the Annapolis city jail. I want to be there at sunset to see if my theory is correct."
"Fox, it is too dangerous. Those creatures have targeted you..."
"For Christ's sake, Walter, it's locked behind iron bars! There shouldn't be any danger!" Mulder clamped his mouth shut and bit on his bottom lip realizing that he needed to get a grip on his temper. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that I want to there to see if it really is Marco."
"What if it isn't? Does that mean your theory is wrong or that they just got the wrong gargoyle statue?"
"I just want to see if this statue is Marco. Walter, just think about what it would mean if I were right?"
"Fox, I don't want to cause a public panic. If you are right, we'll need to keep this quiet."
"We can't keep this from the public."
"We have to. Do you want to see all the gargoyles around the world destroyed, just because people believe they might be real?"
Mulder leaned back in his chair looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, he answered softly, "Oxford had gargoyles...I would hate to see them destroyed."
"Get your coat and meet me out front. We'll stop in Annapolis and see if this gargoyle comes to life after dark," Skinner said.
"Thanks, Walter."***
Annapolis City Jail
SunsetPolice Chief Makel was sure that the FBI had finally gone too far as he stood outside the holding cell beside them staring at a hideous statue of a gargoyle inside. The Fibbies had made him move the prisoners into a separate holding cell. Makel studied the half dozen agents, most were common looking, dressed in Brook Brother's suits. The Chief had been surprised by the arrival of the large, bald Assistant Director who stood stoically looking into the cell. It was seldom that they had a visit from someone as high up in the Bureau as an Assistant Director, and the younger agent who arrived with the A.D. reminded the chief more of a GQ model than a FBI agent.
Makel glanced at his watch, it was way past his quitting time, but he wasn't about to leave as long as the FBI were at his station house. "So, what's it suppose to do again?" he asked again, not expecting an answer so he wasn't disappointed when none came.
Several other officers had stayed past their shifts out of curiosity, and gathered around to watch.
SAIC Johnson sighed as he looked over to the window and into the darkness of evening. The sun was down and nothing had happened, tomorrow he would become the laughing stock around the Bureau. "Agent Mulder, the sun's down, I don't think anyth..."
The gargoyle's eyes moved and its chest puffed out as it took a deep breath. Soon the stiff limbs moved and the creature straightened, standing on its clawed feet to his true height just a foot shy of it's head touching the cell's nine-foot ceiling.
"Shit! What the hell is that thing?" Makel moved several steps back bumping into one of his officers who had drawn his gun.
The creature grinned, it sharp fangs glistening in the light from the overhead lamp. "Fox, my pet, it is so nice to see you again."
"Marco, where's Armando?" Mulder said emotionlessly, standing still and straight, he would not give in to the fear that was coursing like ice water through his veins.
"My nephew isn't your concern. He will be dealt with strictly when I get my hands on him." Marco's eyes traveled lecherously up and down Mulder's body. "You have turned into a beauty, Fox, but then I knew you would." The gargoyle moved until he was standing at the bar, he placed his hands on the cold iron.
Skinner grabbed Mulder's upper arm and pulled him away from the cell at the same time he drew his gun. He had an instant fear that those bars would never hold the immense creature inside. His fears were confirmed as the bars started to twist and bend under the gargoyle's strength.
All the men drew their guns and started shooting. The bullets ricocheted off its body, causing the men to duck for cover as the bullets bounced wildly around the squad room.
A deep chuckle issued from the creature as he breathed in the delicious scent of fear and endorphins. At his age he didn't require nourishment more than once a month, but the smell of these humans was making his mouth water. His nostrils flared as he threw the iron, cell door out of his way and stepped into the squad room. Marco zeroed in on the most frightened of the humans, backing away from him, he was on the man in a flash, his sharp fangs sinking into the back of the officer's head, shattering his skull. He fed slowly on the electrical impulses and the endorphins inside the man's brain.
Agent Peterson leaned over and lost the contents of his stomach on the floor, while several other men fled the squad room and two had fainted.
Skinner tried to grab Mulder, but the younger man was too quick, he picked up a wooden chair, and crashed it down over the creature's back. The chair shattered leaving Mulder holding one of the wooden, splintered legs. When the gargoyle dropped the body of the dead officer on the floor, Mulder tried to run it through the chest with the chair leg. The chair leg splintered against the massive chest and the gargoyle grabbed Mulder's arm with one hand the wooden stake with the other. He chuckling maliciously, "Fox, I am not a vampire...you cannot kill me so easily."
"Let him go!" Skinner growled, his gun was drawn and aimed at the gargoyle's head.
"You want him, little man?" the creature leered, looking at all the men trembling and holding their puny weapons on him. He held Mulder against his chest as he petted him, running his clawed hand up and down Mulder's body. "Brave, foolish, humans. I'll allow you to take care of the little Fox for me. Until I have dealt with my nephew." Marco wanted to switch forms and kiss those sweet lips goodbye, but that would be impossible in a room full of men with guns. They couldn't hurt him while he was a gargoyle but they could as a man. Instead he let Mulder go and turned and dove through the glass window, flying off into the night.
***
Fairfax, Virginia
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
8:30 p.m.The ride back to the safe house was silent, until Skinner turned his gaze to his troubled agent. Instead of telling Fox that it would be okay, he appealed to Mulder's intellect. "Tell me what you know of gargoyles. How do we defeat them?"
Mulder seemed to be prepared to remain silent, but after a moment he took in a deep breath. "According to legend...one legend anyway, a gargoyle cannot remain animate on holy ground. They are forced to stone no matter the time of day."
"No matter what? They can never...do what we saw Marco do in that jail cell? Never?"
Mulder bit his lip, worrying it until Skinner reached out a hand and stopped him. Mulder smiled a bit. "There is the story of a church in Northern England, in a little shire on the lowlands, on the border of Scotland in the fifteenth century. There were incidents where the locals reported seeing monsters in the night, monsters that came in the night, taking away the young men and women. They found the bodies, naked and with gaping wounds on the back of the skulls. Of course history explains that as being Highlanders coming down to cause havoc with the English...nothing more."
"But what? What do you think?"
"During that time the church was run by a young priest who was later burned at the stake for worshipping the devil...again history has its own explanation, but it is incontrovertible that he was burned. It was an enormous scandal, the burning of a priest. Most small churches, humble houses of worship, didn't have the ornate grandeur of their city cousins."
Skinner smiled at the dry tone in Mulder's voice.
"But this church had several stone gargoyle's on the roof, one for each corner. They had been there long before the priest had taken over the responsibility of the shire's eternal life. According to legend, the gargoyles disappeared sometime during the accusations leveled at the priest."
"What happened? I thought you just said that gargoyles couldn't animate on sacred ground? What could be more sacred than a church?"
"Right, but if a priest, a priest who was evil, did something, had some sort of black mass inside the church..."
"It wouldn't be sacred anymore," Skinner finished.
"And the gargoyles could animate." Mulder looked pale in the dashboard lights.
"But what I don't understand, is why a gargoyle would alight on a church at all. They would know wouldn't they?"
"Maybe they start out as stone, I don't know...I just don't know enough," Mulder sighed.
"Wait, don't get frustrated, Fox. We have a lot more information now then we had even yesterday. If what you're saying is true, then we simply need to somehow lure them onto sacred ground..."
"Oh that is simple," Mulder said sarcastically. "We'll just say, 'here gargoyle...c'mon big boy,' yeah that is simple."
Skinner pulled up to the safe house and turned off the engine, holding Mulder's arm when his agent would have immediately stepped out of the car. "These creatures are arrogant, Mulder, from what I saw, Marco was completely contemptuous of us, of our attempts to restrain him. His nephew Armando might even be more so. Certainly they both seem to think you belong to them in some way."
Mulder looked into the strong face, "Yes, but I don't see how that helps us? They wouldn't follow me onto sacred ground."
Skinner shook his head, "They wouldn't follow you onto what they *knew* to be sacred ground. What if we somehow create sacred ground...get a priest to bless someplace...I don't know, a room, something. When either of them come in, they will turn to stone...then we just wait until daylight and move them somewhere...a church...anywhere."
Mulder thought about it. "It could work...*if* I'm right. If I'm wrong, Walter...I don't particularly care for the alternative." He shuddered but was drawn into Skinner's strong embrace. "But...what else is there to do?" He kissed Skinner's jaw. "I guess I'm the bait."
Skinner frowned. "I guess you are." He had the sudden urge to start up the car and just drive, drive until he had Fox far away from any danger. But, he knew Fox would never let him. His agent was made of sterner stuff than that.
"So, when do we do it?" Fox asked with a wry grimace.
"We don't have to do it at all if you are too..."
"No! You're right, this plan might just work...and really? What choice do we have?"
Skinner nodded. "I think we should move fast. There's no telling if the nephew...or indeed Marco himself followed us."
Fox nodded and stepped out of the car. "We should find a place near a church...somewhere that will enable us to easily transport them once they become stone," he advised as Skinner joined him on the pathway to the front door.
Skinner pulled out his cell phone, put a large hand on the small of Mulder's back and while he made the arrangements, Mulder tried to come to grips with the last few days. The whole of his life in the last ten years had been affected by that night so long ago. He had carried so much anger and resentment toward Patterson for the way he had treated him, but more anger at himself for allowing it to happen. Never once remembering that he had been involved in his very own X-File. Gargoyles? Shit, it would have to happen to him. He didn't want to think of that night in Mercy, tied to an alter, the sharp trace of one claw traveling a leisurely down his spine, down between his buttocks. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, still feeling the cool scratch of that claw teasing at his anus, the careful scrape of it. He resisted the urge to lean into Skinner. He had spent his life dealing with things on his own, standing on his own two feet, though it warmed him to have Skinner at his side, he refused to fall apart now.
"Okay, I need to get a team together and then we can get you to the old Wells Building. We have a chaplain on his way now...to do his...to do his thing...whatever that is. Purify it I guess. Once the team is assembled..."
"No team, Walter, these things may be cocky but they're not too stupid to smell a trap."
"Oh, forget it, Fox, you aren't going in alone."
"Yes, it is the best way. I mean if not, if you have a team there you might as well have a crane with a sign on it saying, 'Use to move Stone Gargoyle to sacred ground' it is too much."
"You think they won't think it odd that you just happen to go to a lonely warehouse all by yourself? That they won't sense it is a trap just on that?" Walter was frowning, his face a stony mask.
Fox ran a hand through his hair tiredly. "Yeah, they might think it *could* be a trap, but I'm guessing that without the Calvary there on stand-bye, they or at least one of them will risk it." He flushed a bit, realizing what he was saying. That they would think *he* was worth it.
"I don't like this," Skinner mumbled, but he had to concede that Mulder was probably right. "Why don't you try to get a little rest? I'll make sure the setup is done quickly then we can sit down and go over the plan."
Mulder nodded. He moved away from Skinner and didn't look back at his lover. If he did he might fling himself into the strong embrace and never want to let go.
***
Fairfax Virginia
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
9:45 p.m.
"Hey...you awake?"
Mulder turned, startled, from the window and smiled at Walter. "I never really was asleep. Just resting." He took a deep breath. "Is everything arranged?"
Walter strode to the window and gathered Mulder to him, kissing the sinfully soft lips. "I have a feeling that everything is going to go smoothly," he lied. "I think that you and I will be back in my condo before the night is over."
Mulder smiled, smoothing his cheek against Walter's. "And then?"
"And then I show you just how much I adore you," Walter promised, his voice husky with need and shaded with a worry his words had denied.
Mulder pulled away reluctantly. "Well then, let's get to it. I need to know the layout of this makeshift sacred place...I need to plan..."
"Okay, Fox...let's go into the kitchen. I have a map for you to study.
The two men made their way into the kitchen where three other agents sat around the table drinking coffee and talking quietly. They sat up sharply when Skinner entered the room with Mulder trailing behind him.
"Okay, Agent Mulder, this is the schematic drawing of the abandoned office space. Two levels, four exits," Skinner said gruffly. He tapped the map and Mulder bent over it. "The space is in a perfect location, only three miles from St. Theresa's. St. Theresa has an enormous cemetery and we are making arrangements already to donate two statues. We aren't letting anyone in on what the statues really are. We feel that the less people that know the less likely it will be that someone will get it in their head to steal them."
"And hope they never move them," Mulder sighed. At Walter's grim look Mulder nodded and studied the map. "Two sets of stairs...a side entrance and two back entrances."
"Yes, the back entrance to the left side of the building is a maintenance entrance," Agent Parker explained. He like the other two agents had worked a long time with AD Skinner. All three could be trusted to secrecy, something that was essential to Skinner's plan.
"Where is the...uh...blessed portion?" Mulder asked.
"Here and here," Agent Styne said, tapping at the back lobby and a large room on the second floor."
"Why upstairs?" Mulder asked. "Isn't that going to difficult to get them out once they turn to stone?"
"It is only a contingency cite, Fo...Agent Mulder," Skinner explained. "If for some reason you find yourself having to run upstairs you have a second chance...we aren't taking any chances. Another thing. If you can't get them in the sanctified area...or if it fails to turn them stone there are vents here and here. If you are unable to get past them, get upstairs and get into the vent. It leads to an outside opening which we have made sure is opened. A car will be at the end of the block. Run there and...."
"Wait. If this doesn't work, sir, I doubt that a plan including me diving into a ventilation shaft and running to a get away car is going to work. I'm sorry, but you saw what they are capable of," he said softly. "This has to work. It *has* to."
Skinner nodded. "Agreed. You'll be fitted with a hidden two-way radio, so we can keep in contact at all times. You won't be alone, Agent Mulder."
Mulder nodded, but it really wasn't much of a comfort. Mulder looked at the map once more. Despite his dismissal of it, he looked closely at the escape vent. It was in the same upper room that had been blessed so at least he wouldn't be running from room to room like some demented rabbit. He had visions of himself screeching to the monsters, "I'm late! I'm late!"
He looked up at the agents and then to his lover, "Okay, how do I get there?"
Skinner cleared his throat, "You are going to leave here, now. I think it best that we assume that at least one of the two gargoyles is watching this house so you should leave with a scene...hopefully you'll be able to get to the car and then make it to the building." He briefly gave Mulder directions to the office space while Mulder mentally prayed that he wasn't being watched. If he were then he'd never make it to the car. He thought of an alternative plan as he gathered his things. He went to the front door and Skinner tried to pull him back in. Surprised he stopped and frowned, but Skinner just shook him.
"You're crazy, Agent Mulder, you'll never find anything out on your own."
Mulder paused then realized Skinner was acting out the "scene" for the benefit of a possibly waiting monster. "I am going, sir! You can't stop me." He felt entirely foolish, but he hurried to the car and with a shaking hand he started the car. "God, if you're really there, please watch out for him," he whispered fervently and drove into the night.
He pulled out his cell phone and played out his hunch. He dialed his home number and waited for the
machine to pick up. He listened to his odd greeting and resolved to change it immediately if he got out of this mess alive. When the beep ushered in the space to record his message he began to speak, "Scully, I hope you're there...I can't find you anywhere. Listen to me carefully. I got a call from a contact...please be there, Scully. I'm going to the Wells building off of Pine and 23rd. I know you hate when I go off to abandoned building in the middle of the night, but this is important. If you get this message, meet me there." He hung up, breathing hard, suddenly sure that something had been in his apartment, waiting and listening in the dark. He sped up and made his way to the abandoned building.
***
Armando smiled darkly to himself. "Got yah now, baby." He ran one, long finger over the blinking light of Mulder's answering machine. His uncle might not think much of his stalking skills, but he had had a hunch that the sweet Fox would make a mistake and reveal himself. And he had. He changed from his human guise and became the hunter. Already he could taste Mulder's sweet flesh under his tongue. He wouldn't kill the pretty too quickly...wouldn't want to kill him at all, but he couldn't leave him alive for his uncle to find out of his trespass. He would take him tonight there in the abandoned building and then, depending on the sweetness of the sex, he would take Fox somewhere to enjoy at his leisure. In the end he would tire of the pretty and need to cover his tracks, but he knew it would take weeks, if not months, to tire of the beauty.
He walked to the window, his heavy tread making the water in the fish tank sway and the glass left abandoned on the coffee table to tremble. He took to the night on leathery wings, grinning in delight.
***
Abandoned Office Building
Washington D.C.
Wednesday, December 1, 1999
11:30 p.m.Mulder entered the dark building and shone his flashlight around. "Check, check, can you hear me?" he whispered.
"We read you, Agent Mulder. Proceed with caution," the voice of Agent Styne cautioned.
Mulder grimaced. "I'm moving to the rear of the building now."
'Be careful, Fox," Walter said, worry painting his words with a nearly breathless quality.
"As always," Mulder chuckled.
"God," was all Skinner groaned.
He had nearly made it to the back of the building, stepping over pieces of fallen plaster when the sound of breaking glass behind him startled him and he gasped aloud. He turned to see the creature caught in the steady beam of his flashlight, lumbering toward him, shaking off glass and grinning wildly.
"What is it?" Walter hissed, but Mulder said nothing. His eyes were caught in the gleam of the gargoyle's and he let out a ragged breath.
This gargoyle was smaller than the one in the jail cell. Armando. Even as he thought it, the creature began to turn into the young man, the handsome visage sliding over the horrible mask.
"Fox, you have no idea how long I've waited for this moment. From the first time I saw you, so young and frightened...so incredibly edible." Armando smiled. "I can't believe I waited so long. I must admit, that I was afraid of my uncle. He wasn't about to share your sweet body."
Mulder backed away his eyes never leaving Armando's grinning, handsome face. "Why did you wait?" he asked, hoping to sound as calm as ever, but failing miserably.
"I guess I wanted to see the swan all grown. But, as lovely as you are, I still say you would have been sweet meat from the first. You were so ready for it. I know you were being taken advantage of by that stupid prick, but you knew how to spread your legs on command then, didn't you, pretty bitch?"
Mulder flushed, but said nothing, just kept backing away.
The gargoyle grinned. "Where are you going? There is no one here to help you. My uncle would never be as clever as I. I waited in your apartment and heard your stupid message to your partner." He laughed. "You led me right to you, pretty bitch. How smart do you feel now?"
Mulder shook his head, "Not very smart," he growled. "So what now? You rape me, then kill me?"
Armando shrugged. "I assure you, you will not be raped. You will want it so badly you will beg me. If you do it as well as I expect that you will, you will stay alive for as long as I get pleasure from your pretty body. You will learn to come up with many ways to please me in the hope of living that much longer." He smiled and looked up and down the lean frame. "You do please me just looking at you, my Fox. You will not die so soon I think."
Mulder shook his head, "Just kill me now, bastard. I am not going to play the whore for a few days of living. I think of death as a welcome end."
Armando shrugged and continued to come toward Mulder. "You will love every minute of playing my whore. Like you never loved being Patterson's." He sent out a tendril of thought and caressed Mulder's pleasure center, smiling lewdly as the agent stiffened in shock. A small moan escaped the full lips that had haunted his imagination. "Now you begin to understand, don't you, pretty Fox?"
Mulder shuddered as waves of pleasure coursed through his body; even his clothes brushing against him was a source of intense excitement.
"Now you see why are victims never flee to tell tales." Armando applied more teasing pressure to that delicate spot in the brain and Mulder's body shuddered in the most delicious way. Orgasming instantly, flushed and so incredibly lovely, his cheeks flushed and his mouth opened.
Mulder felt the orgasm hit before his brain could even register the excitement. His mind was warring with itself, he wanted to take off his clothes and run his hands through his own semen, he wanted to taste it, to lick it from his fingers. He swayed as another assault began.
"You should take off your clothes, baby, you want to touch yourself, don't you," Armando purred. Eager to see the agent naked, hard and wanton. He wanted to touch those lips. He moved close and reached out a hand, his finger sliding over the soft lower lip. "Suck my finger, while you undress, Fox," he hissed. A moan escaped him as Fox did as he was bidden and his finger was sucked into the agent's moist mouth. "Suck it," Armando commanded sending out another wave of pressure.
Mulder shuddered with pleasure his body hot. He sucked the finger as he struggled to remove his shirt. Armando's other hand moved to rub the wet bulge of Mulder's erection and he squeezed it hotly.
"Still want me to kill you, pretty bitch?" he taunted as Mulder rocked into his hand, sucking hard on his finger with mindless need.
"What in the hell is going on, Fox?"
The whisper in his ear startled Mulder and he felt a moment of dislocation, horrified to find himself humping against Armando's hand. He very nearly pulled away in disgust but he kept up the motions, terrified that he would lose his mind once again. The waves of pleasure were still affecting him, but a rational voice too was beginning to command him. Pleasure was nothing he needed from this thing...he whimpered convincingly and when Armando drew back and commanded him to strip he panted and tried to follow Armando's hand. He wanted to scream in fury at the triumphant smile on Armando's face.
"Strip and convince me to touch you, Fox," Armando purred, still convinced he controlled the situation.
Mulder backed away, seemingly reluctantly. "All right, I will...I promise," he sighed, trying to sound desperate. It wasn't hard. He was desperate. He knew that Armando could easily take over again if he knew he had lost control.
"What is going on? Fuck we are coming in," he heard Skinner growl.
"Oh no....no....no don't," Mulder moaned, making Skinner frown at the other end and Armando raise a perfectly groomed brow. "Don't just stare at me, please...take me...touch me..." Mulder covered quickly causing Armando to smile again. Just as Mulder began to feel a little pulse of pleasure once more he turned and sprinted for the back of the building. He prayed that the shock of it would keep Armando still for a few seconds. He skidded on the dusty tiles and veered left through the central hallway. The hallway was dim, but he could see the street lights illuminating the back lobby. He heard an angry roar behind him and then the shudder of heavy feet. He knew without looking that Armando had changed form and was coming after him with terrible fury.
He ran into the lobby, breathless and frightened, suddenly sure that the plan, the stupid, reckless plan would not work. That Armando would simply come into the room, grab him up and tear him apart. But a shriek sounded behind him and he spun around still stumbling backwards and away from the massive creature that pursued him. He watched in amazement as Armando tried to skid to a stop. He was screaming and shuddering. He spread out his wings and tried to claw at Mulder, but before Mulder's horrified eyes, he turned to stone, frozen with a mask of rage on his fanged face.
"Jesus oh Jesus," Mulder gasped.
"Mulder, talk to me right now god dammit!" Skinner demanded.
"It worked...oh...yeah...it worked all right. He's stone." He approached the stone figure almost reverently and touched the face...still warm. "Okay...okay. Sir, he's pretty much...uh immobilized."
"What in the hell happened to you?" Walter hissed. He had taken over the headphones when the crazy bastard, Armando had first begun to speak. He was thankful for that as soon as he heard Mulder's first groan of passion. He was still flushed and angry over the things he had heard. "What did he do?"
"Oh just a little touch and wiggle," Mulder drawled, his voice deceptively nonchalant.
"Jesus, Mulder, I thought I lost you there."
"Yeah, well me too," Mulder sighed. "Something...something happened, but we can discuss it later over a long game of Monopoly."
"Mulder," Skinner threatened. "Just keep your head. There is still another one out there."
Mulder nodded. "I know."
"How in the hell are we going to get him to go there?"
Mulder shrugged even though he knew Skinner couldn't see it. "I don't think we do. Lightning never strikes in the same place twice." He said the words, but he had an ominous feeling that in this case it would. "I'm going to wait here for a bit and then we need to start thinking about phase two."
"Are you sure Armando is stone, that the blessed ground worked?" Skinner fretted. There was more of the lover in his voice than the strict AD and Mulder smiled.
"I'm positive...unless they turn to stone to play possum."
"Get serious, Agent," Skinner reprimanded.
"Yeah...okay, I'll just wander around here...take in the view, that kind of thing. Scully would love to work a little magic in this room. Must be wonderful with the morning light coming in just so..."
"Mulder!"
***
He smiled to himself and slowly let himself lift from the roof of the white surveillance van. He would come back later and kill the lover his Fox had chosen. So they thought to trap him on sacred ground. He would teach his little Fox how to trap a gargoyle. He had heard the entire exchange from the moment Fox had stepped into the building. He wouldn't rush into the trap, but he would go to the building and collect his property. For his trespass in trying to take what was his, Marco would leave Armando to his stone prison. A prison from which he could see and hear but not move within.
***
Mulder was still staring at Armando when he felt a presence. He was no longer alone in the abandoned building. The hairs rose on the nape of his neck. Every instinct in him told him that he should run, but he had never taken that particular advice before. The question was how did Marco find him? There was no way...no way he could have. He didn't know why he was so certain that Marco hadn't simply followed him to the building, but he knew he didn't. If he had, why would he have let Armando try to take him? It didn't make sense. And why wasn't he rushing in to claim him? Mulder breathed a shaky breath. Somehow Marco knew what was going on. But how much did he know? Mulder almost panicked, but he controlled himself with an effort. He ran a hand down Armando's cooling arm, tracing the sharp, stone claws. He could only hope that while Marco might have somehow known of the holy ground on the first floor that he was unaware of the second room above. Skinner's contingency plan.
For the benefit of his audience that he was sure lurked just beyond the shadows, in the long corridor he sighed, "What did you do to me, Armando? It was...lovely." He bit his lip and then with a loud dramatic sigh he made to move toward the shadows.
"Lovely?" Skinner barked, angry.
"Yes, I said lovely," Mulder replied, again for his audience, somehow knowing that Marco knew all about the surveillance, knowing it in his gut alone. "He did something, Walter, and maybe I liked it."
There was only a stunned silence in reply and Mulder hoped he would have the chance to explain his actions to his lover.
"I felt as if my whole body was...was somehow sexually charged."
"I see," Walter said slowly, the AD back in residence in the familiar voice.
Mulder saw the lurking shadow separate itself from the wall and he stumbled back a few steps in feigned shock. "Marco?" His voice was shaky, without any effort of acting on his part.
"Yes, Fox. I have come for you," Marco hissed from the darkness.
Mulder looked around as if for escape, even began to make his way to the back door, certain that Marco wouldn't follow into the room, certain that Marco would know that the room was blessed...even if he couldn't see the stone visage of his nephew.
He spun about abruptly. "Wait...wait, Marco, don't come in here...it's been blessed," he said quickly as if afraid that Marco would in fact follow him into the room.
"What in the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" Skinner hissed.
Marco, who had no intention of stepping onto holy ground, was shocked by the pretty man's words of warning. He remained silent, eyes narrowed in confusion. He hadn't expected this.
Mulder made a show out of taking off the small receiver in his ear and tossing it to the floor. He stared into the shadows and held up his hands. "What did he do to me?" he whispered.
Marco shifted a bit from the wall, staring at the link to Fox's mortal lover, lying in the shadow of his nephew's feet.
"I...never felt so...so much pleasure. I want it again. Can you...can you...that is can we...shit what am I saying?" he groaned. Hoping he had sold what he had to sell he moved toward Marco. "Are you going to tell me? What is it that you want?" He licked his lips, a nervous gesture that he didn't need to plan as he approached the gargoyle towering above him. "I want it again.... do it to me, please...do it to me."
Marco ginned then. His beautiful Fox was so ripe, so ready for pleasure. He had known it all along, really. "With pleasure, little love, with pleasure."
"Oh yes, pleasure...please, quick before they come," Mulder whined moving to embrace the hard frame. He shuddered in disgust as Marco's clawed hands trailed excitedly up his back. He moaned as one talon sliced at the back of his pants. "Do it now...please." The talon slipped between his cheeks, finding his anus with practiced ease. He shuddered hard as it slid into him carefully, before being slowly withdrawn.
"No hurry, Fox, they can't take you from me," Marco boasted. He lifted him easily and brought the pretty face to his own and with cold lips caressed the side of Mulder's face, his cold, black tongue sliding over the mole. "So beautiful," he sighed, the sound a hiss over sharp fangs. Mulder's leg spread wide as the talon slid back in and out. "Oh, so lovely," he breathed. Taking Mulder would be as exciting s he had ever imagined. He would transform him into his pet. Take him away from mortality and death. He would make him a willing thrall. So willing that though he would not be a gargoyle and so made immobile by the sun, he would lay his lovely body at Marco's feet every day, anxious for the setting sun.
"I will make you immortal, sweet Fox. You won't be like me, but you'll never age. It is the reason I wanted to wait, precious. I didn't want an untried youth as my companion through the eons, no matter how ethereal you were.
Mulder didn't know what to make of that. He just moved his hips as the talon scraped at the tender flesh of his anus. Come on, Walter, Mulder thought desperately. Burst in with guns blazing. Not from the back, but from the front...force us upstairs. If they came from t he back, Marco would just take him through the front and the game would be lost. If they would but only come from the front Marco would have only one retreat...up the stairs. He knew that Marco would never flee in the face of armed men, but he would know that a stray bullet could kill Mulder, so it was Mulder's hope that the beast would take him upstairs, and from there plan to take to the night sky. Just then a wave of inutterable pleasure coursed through him and he didn't want Skinner to save him. He cried out with the intensity of it and felt himself close to orgasm once more.
"Like that, pretty?" Marco purred.
"Oh...oh yes...oh yes," Mulder panted.
"Think of me inside you, Fox...I've waited so long...so very long."
The sound of the front door slamming open and Walter Skinner shouting for him jolted Mulder out of his trance and he just wanted to go back in, he'd never felt such pleasure. "No," he cried. "No don't stop," he begged. Meaning it with every bit of himself. He wanted Marco, wanted to belong to him...for always...forever.
Marco made to put him down and Mulder knew that he was going to go kill Walter. That thought had the power to make him grab hold of Marco. "Don't go, don't leave me," he cried desperate to keep Marco from Walter. Despite his lust and confusion, he knew that he loved Walter, knew it deep inside.
"I'll be back as soon as I deal with your former lover," Marco said gently.
Mulder kept pace with the huge beast and gasped as he saw Walter and two agents. Parker and Styne, standing in the front foyer.
"Shoot at me," Mulder shouted, seeing Marco turn to him with a shocked fury. "Shoot me, but don't make me leave him," Mulder shouted. Dammit, Walter, get it...get what I want, he silently begged. "Shoot goddammit," he shouted furiously.
Marco whirled and grabbed Mulder into his strong arms. "They can't take you, love, hush now. I'll kill them first."
"Shoot," Mulder mouthed; suddenly sure Walter wouldn't do it. But Walter raised his gun and aimed it at Mulder's face. He pulled the trigger just as Marco flung Mulder behind him. With a furious roar Marco gathered Mulder up and raced up the stairs. He was stunned by the big human's deliberate attempt to harm his precious Fox. When he had Fox to safety the big man would know the true meaning of pain. Slice by slice he would shred the man to bits.
Mulder was still stunned that Walter had actually shot at him! He'd wanted him to, but he'd aimed right at his face. They were going to have a serious talk and that was that. Marco was charging past the conference room, the room that had been blessed when Mulder squirmed in his arms. "No, through here, there's a vent...a huge window...ways to get out." Oh God please let Marco go in the room. If he didn't, Mulder was certain he would never have another chance at escape. He was also certain that he would never *want* to escape. If it weren't for his fear for Skinner he wouldn't want to escape now. He'd let Marco know of the trap he had been led into and happily spend the next hundred years squirming on those talons and the huge erection he had felt against his belly as Marco had held him aloft.
There was a hail of bullets behind them and Marco tore down the door throwing Mulder inside. For a heart-stopping moment, Mulder was sure that Marco would turn and go to kill the men below, but he rushed in after Mulder, making the center of the room before he turned a startled face to Mulder.
"You...you tricked me," he hissed before he began to scream.
Mulder tripped and fell on his ass, watching Marco try to heave his way back out of the room, but his struggles were useless and with one last roar, he was stilled. Stone.
Mulder crawled to the feet of the statue and actually began to sob in regret. He tried to push at the stone gargoyle, hoping to get Marco out. It was insanity, but he was helpless to deny it.
Skinner skidded into the room and he bent over Mulder shuddering frame, pulling him away from the gargoyle and into his arms. "Hey, c'mon, baby, hush...c'mon you're okay."
"Help me move him," Mulder cried out.
"Shhh," Walter murmured in Mulder's hair.
The two agents outside the door took one look at their friend, Walter Skinner cradling the body of his agent and they discretely left them alone. Both of them were completely loyal to Walter, and not torture or the Attorney General herself could get them to repeat that they had seen the Assistant Director kissing Agent Mulder. Or calling him baby. Silently Styne and Parker made their way down the stairs.
Mulder sobbed out his anguish in Walter's arms. Anguish that he'd bottled up for so many years. Bitter tears that left a clean slate in their wake.
***
Epilogue
Martha's Vineyard
Friday, December 24, 1999
3:15 p.m.Mulder was sitting on the beach of his youth. The sound of the surf from the Vineyard Sound lulled him. It was incredibly cold, but he waited just a few more minutes before getting up and walking toward the small cape style house that he and Walter were renting on Oyster Pond Road. The smells wafting from the kitchen made him smile. Nutmeg and cinnamon. His lover was certainly a gourmand.
"Is that pumpkin pie I smell," he asked as he entered through the crimson colored door.
"Yeah...can you come in and help me in a few minutes?"
Mulder ginned as Skinner's flour-streaked face peeped around the corner. "Yeah, of course, Martha, just let me catch a quick shower. I'm covered with sand."
"Been sitting on the beach again?" Walter asked, his voice measured and careful.
Mulder grinned. "Yes, but it's Christmas Eve and I am not going to spend another moment on reflection."
Walter smiled. Mulder did indeed look better than he had looked since the night both Marco and Armando had been cast in stone. Mulder had not been able to oversee the transport of the two stone gargoyles into the sanctified ground of St. Teresa's the following morning, but Skinner had. And even in the darkest parts of night the two gargoyles had remained stone on the hallowed ground. Still, the night had marked Mulder. And Skinner wasn't certain if Mulder was finally over it, and more importantly over what havoc Patterson had wreaked on his life.
"I'll be right back," Mulder promised and hurried up the narrow stairs. After a quick shower Mulder dressed in soft jeans and dove gray, knit sweater. He walked to the bed and bent to bring out the present he had purchased for Walter. The bulk of the gifts were already under the small tree, but this one had been his favorite. He intended to hide it in the branches of the tree. He closed his eyes and imagined the set of rings that nestled inside. Though he couldn't legally marry Walter, he wanted to do something to show the man how very much he loved him.
He knew that Walter was worried about him, and he had been a rather reclusive lover during their two-week vacation to the island. He smiled softly, thinking of the cold nights, warm in bed when he was anything but reclusive. He had been thankful for the howling winds at night, to cover the sounds that Walter's experienced hands and tongue elicited from his writhing body. The man could play Mulder's body like a maestro that was certain.
He would probably never forget the night Armando had made him, for that small amount of time, want to be once again in the position that Patterson had trained him for, but at least now it was in context. He wasn't that man any longer. He hadn't been for a very long time. He just had never let himself believe it. Patterson's influence on him had ended long before Armando had murdered him. What lingering shadows that resided within him, waking him from slumber, were the images of what he would have been without Marco's push to have him end things with Patterson. Today, on the beach, watching the cargo ships on Vineyard Sound, he had finally realized that it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was loved by a man he loved so well in return.
For so long he had felt as if parts of him were missing. Little pieces of his soul scattered by tragedy and pain. But Walter made him whole, made him aware too, that his wholeness was not at the whim of any other person, not even Walter's. He was no longer scattered in pieces along his past. He couldn't change the past, didn't need to anymore, but he could enjoy the present...and the future.
He stood and made his way to the stairs. He stopped and looked once more at the small gift box. "What the hell," he chuckled. "Why wait for Santa?" He jogged down the stairs and toward his future.
***
End of Pieces of Me