Disclaimer: This is the work of fiction. All the characters in this work of fiction belong to the following: Chris Carter, he, of the marvelous mind. 1013 Productions and the FOX network. There is no copywrite infringement intended. But if they want to hunt me down, just send one of these guys to do it. This is R, some violence, M/M sexual allusion, and the language is...human. M/K, M/Sk Archived at MKRA/MSSS, please. And on JiM’s page via Mona, please. Notes: Ah Master, once again you have talked me into putting my neck on the chopping block. Many, many thanks to JiM for beta reading and capturing all those stray comma’s and pronouns. It was only with her help that this came into being. Any mistakes that you see here are all mine. This is the final companion piece in the “No Common Senses... series. Feedback is always welcomed, but let it be constructive feedback. lmckinnon@stlnet.com Thanks for taking the time to read this. A Sight of... by Leila Off early. Reports finished, Scully out for the day, and now a chance for me to run while it was still daylight. Free time, is something that seems to rarely happen for me, so I grab it. And too, a chance to get to Walter’s place before he does. Maybe I would leave him enough hot water to shower with this evening, although he never seems to leave me enough when I came in late. The run feels good, stretching muscles, moving, pushing the pace harder and harder. Running is one of the few things I do with my mind on blank. I would never tell Walter this, it would earn me a lecture about “always being alert, no matter what you are doing”. For a moment I flash on just how alert he was last night as I held my mouth so still on his cock, just licking him gently. Not very alert, Walter, not alert at all. I am still not really sure just what has happened here over the last several weeks. We are still feeling our way around in this relationship, if it can be called such. It is so new. New to us both. The sudden surprise to roll over at night and find myself up against his warm, solid body. A warm, solid body that is suddenly awake and instantly ready to defend itself. The first night I stayed over neither of us got any sleep. And not because we didn’t want to. Now there is a comfort to roll over against him and feel his welcome, as he throws an arm over me, or spoon fashion molds himself to me. We sleep very well together. We do spend most of our time here, at his apartment. It is larger, has more room for the both of us, and of course it is cleaner and better stocked with food, than mine will ever be. It seems that he is much more at ease here, in his own surroundings than at my place. I have to remind myself at times how much more Walter is...alert, yes alert is a good word for what he is. Walter is alert, to himself, to his surroundings, even to his body, much more than anyone that I know. If we start spending time at my place I am sure that slowly, but persistently, it will become his place as well, as he puts his mark on it. Me, well, all I have done so far is leave sunflower seed shells around his apartment. And some clothes. Nothing to show that I’ve really been here. The apartment is quiet. After my shower I lay down on the bed, just meaning to rest for a few minutes. With the clearn, sharp scent of Walter’s soap and the more musky, warm smell of the bed blanketing me, I find myself drifting off. It is the sound of the shower that wakes me. That and some other sound that I can’t identify. Pulling on my sweat pants, trying to put my shirt on I get tangled up with the towel I was carrying back to the bath room, realizing that I had taken all of the clean towels. I wander out into the hallway. For an instant; all I can smell is ocean fog. My mouth floods with the memory of his taste, a dead, metallic taste. The memory of the touch of his mouth on my cheek feels like a physical blow. Why is he smiling? Why am I afraid of that smile? Possibily because of the gun he holds pointed at my chest. -Hi. -Krycek! What the hell are you doing here? He looks like he is strung out on something. His green eyes, huge in his thin face, are fever bright, focusing only on me. I know that he doesn’t want to smile, but his social mask is fixed firmly on that feral face. Oh Alex, what are you doing? What are you going to do? -Krycek... -Shut up. The gun doesn’t move. We are caught in amber, preserved in our own little cosmos. The silence as the shower shuts off shatters the amber. -Mulder! Where the hell are all the towels? Oh God, how does he know I’m out here? My mind struggles to find some meaning in this waking nightmare. My gun, my gun is nowhere available. No gun. No weapon. Throw the towel at him. Throw myself at him. Shit, why is he here? I told him that cold morning, I told him while we were running. It was not going to happen. The cost of his information, too high, I told him. Much too expensive. Don’t do this Alex, it will cost you more than you can ever know. -Daddy’s calling, Mulder. Give him his towel. Slowly. The gun doesn’t move. I do as he says, opening the door and throwing the towel into the warm steam filled bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind it. -Call him out here. With those words, I know why Alex Krycek is here. Now I know that the smile is nothing more than Alex baring his teeth in a feral snarl at the world...particulary at Walter Skinner. There is a smell of something hot, something acrid. His thin face is all angles and points; it is flushed with the need that has cursed him. The need to take something that he can never have. Something that I will not give him. Ah Alex, no. -No My voice comes from someplace inside of me, a place that I hadn’t known existed. A place filled with strength and clearity. It is the place that Walter is building in me. I can not let this happen, I will not let this happen. The gun doesn’t move. -”No” what? Who are you talking to, Mulder. With that, the door opens and Walter Skinner steps into the narrow hallway, the one he keeps complaining about. He has a towel wrapped around his waist and his glasses are misted over with steam. Heat seems to radiate from him. His awareness of Krycek and the gun are almost instantaneous. I see his body tighten. And then he steps between me and Krycek and the gun. -Krycek. -Skinner. I want to scream. No. You cannot do this Walter. I will not let you do this. I push against him trying to get him away from the gun.. His warm, solid body, the one that means so much to me, that warm solid body merely braces itself against the walls of this deathtrap hallway. He just stands there, immovable, between me and the gun. -Mulder. Get out of here. Which one of them said that? -No. I watch Krycek over Walter’s shoulder. The gun never moves. -Alex. Don’t do this. Please. I try to gentle him, coax some reason into his fever hot eyes, make the gun drop. -It was always going to come to this, Mulder. The pain in his voice is so evident. Poor Alex, he still doesn’t get it. I try again. -It doesn’t have to be _this_ way. -No. You could come with me. Step around him and come here. Leave with me. There is no hesitation in my reply, the words spilling out of my mouth in their hurry to make the truth known. -No, Alex Pain flares in his eyes, only for an instant. Then death is there, looking out of those wide green eyes. No fever now, only cold, cold death. -Then here we are. The gun moves in a gesture of mockery. I see the muscles in Walter’s back slide and twitch, he is tensing himself to charge. Jesus, what now? -Don’t. The word is hisses out between clenched jaws. Which one of us said that? The gun is back. Pointed at Walter’s chest. Held in a steady grip. The gun doesn’t move. Krycek is displaying his sharp teeth in that feral smile. -These are armor-piercing loads, Skinner. 45 Hardballs. They can tear through a Kevlar vest like it was tissue. And you don’t seem to be wearing that much. Again time is trapped in amber. We stand frozen. There is no sound but our breathing. All of us are almost panting, like we have been running a great distance...with no end in sight. I feel Walter take a deep breath. Then another. Now I know what he has chosen. I know what he will do. Don’t do this,Walter, remember you said that you would never leave me. Remember. Remember. I no longer need to think about what I am doing; I wrap my arms around Walter Skinner. Holding myself tight against him. No, Walter, you aren’t going to leave me. I won’t let you leave me. Not here, not now, not this way. He shudders against me. I want to reassure him, hold him, kiss him. I brush my lips against his ear, his warm, clean smell fills my nose. No more fog, no more smell of burning. Walter, warm and solid in my grasp. Poor Alex. -Please. Go I feel the words under my hands, echoing in his chest, circling in my mind, beating in my heart. The hate seeps out of me, no longer of importance, in this moment of truth. Walter Skinner would die for me. That knowledge alone is almost more than I can comprehend. We have never said those words to each other, never said them. But I know. Now he knows. And now, Alex, knows. The gun doesn’t move. -I won’t let you leave me. Walter is very still in my arms. I lean into him. I watch Alex’s face. Watch a myriad of emotions race across it. The gun doesn’t move. Make it a good shot, Alex, make it good. Make sure it does us both. You don’t want just one of us to survive, oh no Alex, you don’t want that. Kill us both...and do it right. You don’t want to leave one of us behind to lay on you all the grief and pain that will be left. Kill us both. The gun doesn’t move. There is nothing that you can do, Alex, that is going to change what I now know, what I now feel. I tighten my hold, close my eyes and bury my face in Walter’s shoulder. Our breathing slows, we stand together, calm and quiet.. I no longer see Alex Krycek. I no longer look at death. There is silence. Then I feel Walter jerk in my arms. I open my eyes to an empty hallway. The gun is gone. Alex Krycek is gone. Walter lets out a long shaky breath. -Jesus, Mulder. Would you be more careful who you flirt with next time? With those totally inappropriate words echoing in the still air of the hallway, I can do nothing but laugh. Walter turns in the circle of my arms. His face is wet with tears. I hold him, feeling the wetness of those tears. But I can’t stop laughing, my reaction to this, this abrupt ending of the nightmare that was Alex Krycek, just as inappropriate as his. The joy of holding him, that’s why I am laughing. He wraps his arms around me as if we could melt into each other, become one. His. Mine. -I love you. -Oh. Good. I’d hate to think you do this for all of your dates. -Shut up. Poor Alex. This is the end of the “No Common Senses Series.