Something Wicked r6-Nicole-p1

***

Somewhere the tide was ebbing. He knew it with a certainty, could almost feel the teasing pull of the water as it brushed along endless grains of sand. The sound was clear in his mind as if the waters were receding not from the secluded, unseen beach, but from his own mind. His own thoughts indeed were like the grains of sand, rolling, surging forward, settling back, over and over again. Directionless-purposeless. And he didn't care. He lay face down in one of a series or rooms, which had witnessed his destruction, and he didn't even know which room in which he had been left. Didn't know how long he had lain-face-down and tethered-but he knew the tide was ebbing.

Growing up on the Vineyard Sound he had many times lain on the cool beach of evening and closed his eyes and listened to what most others enjoyed visually. That steady, irrevocable retreat of water. The almost surly defiance of an incoming tide replaced by the comparably stealthy adieu. The end of a cycle.

He knew he was breaking down and that too was irrevocable. He was ending. He could feel it. What had he said to Cain? He couldn't remember anything and that was probably for the best. He wished all the memories he clung to could be swept out of his mind like the water that surged away from the shore. Thinking of himself and his home-Alex-it hurt too much. Until finally all his struggles were about remembering who he was and what waited at home for him. Not resisting Cain. He could barely recall how certain he was that Alex would find him, how certain that everything would be fine as soon as Alex came for him. And now, lying here in some dark room, he knew he would never be found.

He would never escape Cain.

It would be nothing except more of the same until he gave in.

Gave in. Hadn't he already? Hadn't he jerked his hips and spread his legs obediently when Cain played him? Hadn't he said the words Cain asked him to? Had he? Or had those been nightmares? Cain's voice, his hands so falsely warm and his demands that seemed more terrifying now-without hope. He moaned a bit when he realized his cock was painfully erect, eager to be touched and pulled, licked and whipped. He shook with the realization that his body already was completely complicit in Cain's game. Aching to be filled. Maybe it would end-maybe if he just stopped-stopped trying to escape, stopped trying to pretend he wasn't losing himself it would be better-easier.

His whole body ached though he had been thoroughly cleaned and tended to when Cain had tired of him. Or had it been Cain? Hadn't Cain sent in another to finish his training? He shook his head trying to clear the sound of the water from his thoughts. He was so confused and all his knowledge didn't mean a thing anymore. All the syndromes he could name and point to, cling to, meant nothing to him now. Rationality was a luxury only the untried could afford.

He tried to close his legs, but the tethers were not loose enough for that. He felt the thin cover over his nude body and wondered at that kindness. The bonds were leather, but the padding was the softest silk and the bed was pleasantly firm. There was a warm breeze gently lifting the hair from his brow telling him that a window had been left open for his comfort. He rubbed his cheek on the cool sheets and knew they would be white.

If he gave in to Cain, these comforts would be of such small consequence. He would be happier. Cain had promised him. And Cain had done everything he said he would. There was no denying that. Every time Cain told him what he intended to do, he did just that.

What else could he do in any event?

Death had its own appeal, one he had thought of several times, but if he had slowly allowed his hope of rescue to die, he had not given up his desire to live, even as who he was lay dying.

He opened his eyes for a moment and recognized the room, even in the moonlit dimness. His own special Hell. The white room. There was no need to keep his eyes open. He would simply listen to the tide recede. He felt the moistness on his face and blinked it away helpless to do any more with his hands tethered above his head. The steady flow of tears down his cheeks, the salty flavor in his mouth brought his thoughts firmly back to the sea-the ceaseless sea.

***

"Take the ship back out to sea and stay out for four hours." Krycek was stowing his gear into the small, inflatable motorized dingy as he spoke. "You come back to these coordinates *exactly* four hours from now. Do you understand?"

The captain shrugged. "Sure four hours."

Krycek gave him a level look, "Don't fuck me."

The words were barely audible but their intensity made the captain nod emphatically. "No-I won't. I don't get my full pay if I do right?" He tried to laugh then, clicking his tongue and winking conspiratorially.

"Oh you'd get it all right," Krycek promised.

The captain frowned in confusion before realizing that he didn't want to know just *how* he would get his pay. Something in those altogether too pretty eyes told him he wouldn't like how he got his full pay if he didn't do things exactly the way this strange man wanted them. Besides it was easy enough to do. Take off, motor out a bit away from the small island they had made their way to in the darkness of the night, and wait an hour or so and make his way back. They were at anchor now and a navigational buoy wasn't too far away. Some private job, but still a good marker to set up against their own mechanical readings. The man had some gadgets in his gear that he had been toying with and from what the captain could see he had been using some sort of satellite technology to verify their position.

Frankly he didn't want to know what was going on here. He just wanted to get his money and get the hell away from this guy. "I'll help you put her in," he offered, now anxious to get this over with. He made sure the lines were secure before helping to lift the surprisingly heavy dingy overboard.

"It's heavy," Krycek growled.

"Sturdy is what she is," the captain boasted. "Everything on my watch is sturdy." The only response to his boast was another measured stare.

"Four hours, Captain. Exactly."

"Got it."

Krycek lowered his gear down carefully by the tow lines and when he was satisfied that he had left nothing behind he, climbed down to the dingy and settled in the back by the small, but powerful engine. The captain above waited until the engine was purring before he dropped the lines securing the dingy to the ship. The dingy immediately floated away from the ship and in minutes Alex was directing it toward the looming darkness of the island.

Five minutes later Alex could hear the ship's engine began to work as the captain did as instructed and moved it further away from the island. He was trying to concentrate on his plan-how he was going to go about finding Fox and getting him off the island in four short hours, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong-off.

The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, tickling him. He stared at the dark canvas that the captain had earlier pointed out as a good way to cover the dingy once he had pulled it out of the water and up to the jungle line. He had remembered the captain folding it neatly and stowing it under the aft-where he was sitting-not forward and not in a big pile. He slowly reached for his gun and thought to risk a flashlight to ascertain exactly what was hidden under the now bulging canvas when the bulge sneezed.

He pointed the gun at the bulge and took aim at its center. Before he could squeeze off a round the bulge moved accompanied by a familiar voice cursing softly.

"Jesus Christ, Scully!" he growled even as she sat up and threw off the canvas. He grabbed the flashlight and shone it into her face to see the determined scowl on her rosebud lips.

"Get over it, Krycek and get that light out of my face," she said briskly. "And who do you think you are-running off and leaving me and Skinner in the dark? You're lucky I let you..."

"Scully, what in the hell do you think..."

"You know perfectly well what I think I am doing!" she snapped. "He is my partner. And I am going to be there to be sure you get him out. Now tell me what is the situation and how you got your information. Who has him?"

"You are *not* going to be part of this, Scully," Krycek said coldly. "I am not going to risk that you fuck this up because you don't want to pull the trigger." When she would have protested he interrupted her. "I am not going in to sneak him out when its safe to do it, Scully. I am going in to get him and kill anyone I can who tries to stop me-especially the bastard who took him and then get him out."

"You see that is why I need to be here," she hissed. "While your running around doing the Rambo thing you will screw up getting him out. I did hear you tell that man to be back in four hours. That leaves little time for revenge."

Krycek ground his teeth together in anger. "I am *not* going to-screw-it up, Scully. I have never been more determined to do something than I am tonight."

"Well what is the situation?"

"The situation is that you are going to stay with this boat once we beach..."

"Forget it, Krycek. Now tell me."

Krycek wanted to shoot her as had been his original plan-just shoot her and go about his business. And he would have done so if she wasn't who she was. Fox's partner, his confidant and his dear friend. And yet he wanted to. This wasn't a game. Instead he gave her what she wanted. "Cain Sterling is the man who has him. He owns this island."

"And?" Scully pressed. "Why does he have Mulder? Is what that young man told Skinner true? Is he a-a peddler of flesh?"

Krycek narrowed his eyes at her too polite assessment of the bastard's motives. "Are you asking if he kidnaps men and rapes them? Are you asking if he takes them from all they know and love and tortures them, breaks them down and then disposes of them when he tires of them? Yeah, all of the above."

Scully made a small sound and Krycek just nodded in the dark, uncaring that she couldn't see his dismissive gesture. He would deal with her later.

They beached several minutes later. Krycek had killed the engine when they were still a fair distance out and used the plastic oars stored in the dingy and during that exercise the two remained silent. With a stealth that Scully envied Krycek pulled the boat up to the tree-line and covered it with the tarp that had earlier hidden her. He was so quiet that when he returned to her side she jumped in surprise. In the darkness of the night she couldn't see him and certainly couldn't hear him.

"What now," she whispered.

He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed in warning. A warning she supposed was to mean to be quiet. She felt the urge to react to his attempt at authority over her, but she resisted. She followed him until they came to a lit path. Krycek stopped then and crouched down. Scully followed his lead and for the first time Scully could see his face in the dim light reflecting into the tropical foliage in which they crouched. There wasn't just determination on his face or even anger, there was something else which she, a civilized person, recoiled from. He looked as if he were looking forward to the killing that was sure to come. She had hoped there would be a minimum of it, but looking at his still face she knew that hope was a naïve one. Krycek would kill as many people as he could and love every minute of it. She would have been repulsed by him had the reason for his rage not been one that made her contemplate murder herself.

Mulder.

Trapped and possibly raped? Inconceivable. Horrible. In fact she couldn't even imagine it. Especially knowing her partner. He would make a man like Cain, someone who thought he had a right to own another person, someone who must have an incredible ego and someone who was certainly insane, very angry. She could only hope that Mulder's stubbornness and flippant wit in the face of adversity hadn't gotten him killed. Her stomach was churning with that terrible thought when two guards came into sight. Armed and dressed like soldiers, they were joking quietly together as they came closer to she and Krycek. Anger filled her at the caviler attitude of these two men. They had to know what kind of man they worked for. Had to know what atrocities were committed on this island. She wanted to fly at them and beat them senseless with her bare hands. Before she could make a move their faces exploded and they fell to the ground. She turned gaping to Krycek but he was already moving. She had barely heard the shots that had killed them.

He holstered his gun, then grabbed the first dead man and dragged him into the foliage, careful not to disturb the beautiful flowering plants that were planted carefully on the edge of the path. He dumped him beside a gaping Scully and went back to retrieve the second man. When he returned with him Scully, who had apparently gotten over her shock, had already stripped the man of his weapons and two-way radio. She nodded at Krycek and he had to admit he was surprised she wasn't checking the man's pulse. He stripped the second man of his weapon and radio and dragged them both further into the jungle.

He looked about the path and then turned to her. "Scully I need to go on alone. I can move faster and quieter without you. Please. I know you want to help, but his life is too precious to me. This is going to be hard enough as it is. Please, just stay hidden and be here to help me with him..."

"Krycek, I am going. I won't slow you down and I won't hesitate to kill. I love him too."

He looked at her young, determined face. She had dressed for stealth and he wondered at it. How had she gotten the clothes which looked a bit too big for her, but they were dark and servicable. "Fine, but, understand this, though it would break his heart, if I have to choose between you and him, you lose. I won't hesitate to leave you if it means saving him."

She smiled grimly. "Oh believe me, you won't have to make that choice, but ditto on the sentiment."

He nodded. "Do exactly what I tell you and if you have a shot take it-we aren't here to arrest anyone." He handed her an automatic pistol, silencer equipped similar to the one he had used on the guards and two clips from the black nylon bag he carried with him.

She nodded.

"Shoot to kill."

She nodded again.

"I am going to straight to the house and there will be surveillance cameras so keep an eye out."

No sooner had he finished speaking did he move through the foliage at a silent yet swift pace, eschewing the well-lit path. She followed, being as quiet as she could.

***

He had slept for a few moments, at least he thought he had for he had dreamed of Alex. He was so beautiful in the dream, singing some silly song while lying in bed holding him close and making Fox chuckle. Green eyes so tender and filled with love as he sang it made him ache for want of him.

"Alex," he whispered as the dream faded and he was brought abruptly from his own cozy bedroom with the man he adored and back to this new reality.

"And still you long for him," Cain said quietly in the darkened room.

Fox stiffened at the low voice. He knew the subtleties of Cain's voice and he was furious again. He felt Cain's hand on his arm, stroking with deceptive gentleness. The hand moved to his back, petting and stroking the abused skin.

"So beautiful, so stubborn. What am I to do with you, slave?"

Fox closed his eyes, knowing that Cain could do anything to him he wanted, knowing Cain didn't care for his response. He heard himself whimper and hated himself for it and for the erection that was growing heavy and wet beneath him. When Cain slid his hand to his sore buttocks, Fox couldn't help the slight bucking of his hips.

Cain chuckled then. "Well you certainly do like to be fucked, Fox. I can't deny that that pleases me greatly." He slid a finger down the still lubricated cheeks, so round and pretty in the dim light coming in from the hallway. "Do you have a hungry little hole here?" he asked as he fingered the tender flesh hidden between the sweet mounds.

Fox moaned in virtual agony, a mental agony, and self-hatred as he felt his anus contract eagerly.

"Should I fill you, Fox? Make you scream in a different way than under the lash? How about both?"

Fox shook his head, desperate to be defiant, but no longer sure how to be. "Please," he whispered.

"Please?" Cain breathed, bending to kiss the muscles of Fox's shoulder, trailing his lips down Fox's spine. "Please fuck you? Please whip you? Please let you come when I do?"

"Please," Fox whispered again, his voice broken and utterly confused. He cried out when a thick finger slipped into him, the burn of the penetration hateful in its pleasure.

"I love how tight you are, baby," Cain husked. "So tight and young and sweet. So hot and slick and used, but so tight." He licked the sweat that was forming at the small of Fox's back and bit the bruised and whipped flesh of Fox's buttock as he pushed another finger inside him. "I could make you come just by fingering you now, sweet Fox. You want this. You want to be owned. To be fucked and whipped and tied and punished for being a bad boy. That's why you're moving onto my fingers, Fox. You want this. You need this."

Fox's eyes opened wide at these revelations. Were they true? God were they true?

"Say please again, Fox, I love the word on your lips. Say please when I fist you again."

"Please," Fox whispered obediently, feeling the tight stretch of Cain adding more fingers to his slowly plunging invasion.

"Good boy," Cain whispered, his voice uneven in his lust. "I knew you would be a good boy. Now move your pretty hips, move onto my fingers like you want to do."

Fox's eyes were wide as he obeyed, feeling pleasure but pain and fear and vertigo almost eclipsing the pleasure.

"Good boy," Cain said again and Fox wanted to cry at how much he liked hearing those words.

***

Jo's turn