World Without End Book Ten

by Rachel Anton

This is the beginning of the second day of the fifth calendar I've been through.  When I wake up I take great pleasure in swiping a red marker through the box that represents yesterday.  Yesterday's gone.

I got a new apartment yesterday.  I don't really know why.  They moved me up a couple floors into one of the penthouse suites.  It's about ten times bigger than the first one and that was huge itself.  I wonder if I'm getting promoted.  God, please don't let me get promoted.  I don't think I could stand it.

Anyway, it's got a better view.  My old window faced the outdoor recreation area.  I got real tired of watching all the old farts standing around and playing with their horses all fucking day.  This new window looks out onto the city.  Now I can watch the old farts moving from building to building on Plexiglas protected people movers.  They finally perfected those damn things a few months ago.

It's a lovely city really.  Very clean.  A nice little colony of drones.  And I can't even see the walls from here.  I have to say though, I liked it better when it was Staten Island.

This apartment has a better fish tank too.  I've got one of those total wall unit things in the living room with hundreds of tropical varieties swishing around inside.

Yep, I'm a lucky guy.  So they keep telling me.

I hear the door open behind me as I'm putting together my breakfast and turn to see a wrinkled mass of bones hovering behind a cloud of smoke.

"Doesn't anyone knock anymore?"

"I understand you wanted to see me, Mulder," he says, creeping ever closer to my dinner table and flicking ash onto my brand new, wall to wall, snow white carpeting.

"Yeah, it's been awhile.  I want…well, how is she?"

He takes a long drag off his damn cigarette, drawing out the suspense I suppose.

"She's doing well.  Quite healthy and happy.  As always."

As always.  Right.  Hard to be unhappy when you can't feel a damn thing.

"They're still…I mean she's still being treated well?"

"Of course.  I know her Master personally and he's assured me that she's being given exceptional treatment.  We've been over this before, Mulder.  Countless times.  Is there something else?"

I take a deep breath, fully prepared to be shot down but determined nevertheless.

"Sir, I was wondering…I mean, is it at all possible…I want to see her."

He flicks more ash on my floor and his lips quirk in an utterly unreadable way.

"I have some new photographs if you'd like…"

"NO!"

I think we're both startled at my adamance.

"I want to SEE her.  In person.  Face to face."

"That's impossible," he tells me, blandly dropping his butt into my morning coffee.  "And it wasn't part of the deal."

I knew that was coming.  I wish I had something else, another bargaining chip.  He's got a full house and I've got a joker and a two.

"I realize that.  It's just…it's been almost five years already.  Five years is a long time."

"Yes, five years.  You're more than halfway through, Mulder.  Don't tell me you want to change our terms now?"

Is that what I want?  What might that mean?  What would I have to give in order to get?  What would it take?

"I don't…no, not exactly.  I just, I just want to be able to see her in person, just for a few minutes even.  Just to know…to know that…"

Goddammit!  There is nothing more revolting or demoralizing than having to grovel at the feet of this son of a bitch.

"She wouldn't recognize you anyway.  What would be the point?"

An image of the woman who used to be my Scully flashes through me, from one of the earliest video tapes.  I remember thinking how beautiful she still was even though her eyes were dead and she moved with the animation of a wind up doll.  She wouldn't recognize me or anyone else.  I need to get her out of there.  Please God, let me get her out of there.

"Haven't you ever lost someone close to you?  Don't you know what it's like to just need to see them, to just breathe the same air if only for a moment…"

No, I don't suppose these are feelings this man could ever understand.  And I need to pull back and stop exposing so much of myself.  Of course the bastard already knows my weakness, my need.

"Arrogant child," he mutters before lighting yet another cigarette.  "You think you're the only one who's suffered losses?  We all have, some even greater than yours.  My suggestion to you is be thankful for what you have been given.  Scully is safe and you are alive.  You've both only got two more years of servitude and then you will be reunited and free to do whatever you please.  You've got a lot more going for you than just about anyone else.  Be grateful and concentrate on your job."

My job.  Wonderful.  Post-apocalyptic pencil pusher.

"And speaking of your job, Mulder, I believe that part of the deal was that you actually do it."

"I have been.  I've been going to the meetings, doing my part, I haven't caused any trouble for anyone.  What more do you want?"

"You've been a disappointment Mulder.  You're not applying yourself to your fullest ability.  Never forget what's at stake here."

How could I?  For crap's sake, how could I forget for one fucking minute that he's got me by the balls?  Why did I even bother asking?  I'm beginning to think this was a serious mistake.  Now if I start looking for her on my own it'll be more difficult to avert suspicion.

"Can I at least see a new tape?"

I try to keep the whining tone out of my voice but I can't help the desperation.

"I've got new photos.  That's all I can give you right now."

"I want a tape.  Like in the beginning.  That was part of the deal too if you remember."

"It's impossible.  Besides, her days are identical to each other.  There would be no purpose in watching her mind numbing routine."

"It was part of the deal.  I want the tapes!"

"What you want is not an issue.  And I don't care for your tone.  Don't ever forget that she can be eliminated, Mulder.  Quite easily.  I would be very careful if I were in your shoes."

We stare each other down for a minute in a lame and utterly false stand off.  We both know who's in control.  Motherfucker.  I'm gonna find her.  I've gotta find her.  I can't live another fucking day like this.

"Aren't you late for work, Mulder?  You shouldn't keep your partner waiting any longer."

Partner.  Jefferey Spender is not my partner.  Scully is my only partner.

He's right though.  I need to keep up appearances at least.  For now.  I brush past him and head for the door, not caring if he spends the rest of the day puttering around my apartment, looking though every last drawer.  I don't write anything down anymore.  No records.  Everything stays in my head.

Before I leave I turn back to him, utterly disgusted with myself, him and the entire world.

"Those pictures better be here when I get back goddammit!"

I slam the door forcefully, my one pitiful show of strength.  God, Scully, what would you think of me for this?

I've been having nightmares lately, dreams about seeing you again only it's not you anymore.  You're someone else.  Someone who hates me for what I've done.

I  tell you that I was trying to protect you but that only makes you hate me more.

I'm sorry, Scully.  I'm sorry and I promise, I will find you.  I will find you.

Fuck.  She's so fucking beautiful.

I didn't mean to do this.  I'm not a stalker.  I swear.  It's just, I can't stop looking.

There's nobody else here.  The library gets deserted this time of night.  Hell, who am I kidding.  It's not exactly the hottest spot on campus any time of day.

But Dana spends a lot of time here.  Even when she's not working, she likes to come here and read.  But tonight she's here for business, not pleasure.  She's sitting at one of the computer terminals in the center of the first floor, entering data.  I watch her fingers glide over the keyboard and her head move back and forth from her notebook to the computer screen from behind a stack in the reference section.

It's strange, in the time before, when I first knew her, I thought that her dignity, her poise, came from the way she adorned herself.  That harsh haircut and those dark, sharp, tailored suits, the alarmingly high heels, flawless make-up.  I thought that's what it was.  But it's not.

She's sitting there now in a pair of old grey sweatpants and a bulky, white, woolen fisherman's sweater that's at least two sizes too big, her hair tied at the top of her head in a makeshift bun with a pencil through it, looking for all the world like a college student studying for finals.  But even now, even with her back turned towards me, she exudes this quiet air of authority.  With her posture, her graceful movements, her focus and intensity.

Untouchable.

But not to me.  Not anymore.

I came here to ask her if she wanted to have dinner with me.  It's late for that but I'm pretty sure she hasn't eaten yet.  And I want to see her.  I need to see her.

It's been six days since I made love to this woman, this…God, this woman, for the first time.  Made love.  God.  I really did, too.  It wasn't just fucking, even that first time on the table.  It was hot, it was frantic, it was insane, but I was making love to her then even though she probably didn't realize it.

We're pretty busy people, both of us.  Everyone here is.  But I've made time, as much time as humanly possible.  I've gone without sleep for three of the past six nights.  Even when the sex was over, I stayed awake, just to spend the extra time, watching her drift in and out of sleep, playing with her hair.  We went without eating almost anything on the second day because we couldn't bring ourselves to leave that bed long enough to make it to the cafeteria and I didn't have anything in the fridge.  It's not enough.  It could never be enough.

I've never had a real girlfriend before.

That sounds pathetic.  It's not though.  I mean, I've dated…I guess.  Well, I've had a lot of sex.  But I've never had someone like…like this.  I've never been this close.  To anyone.  Ever.  I never thought I'd want to either.  But now I can't think of anything else.

Some people might think it's strange to start a serious relationship now, in the middle of all this chaos.  I guess it is.  But not any more strange than the concept of having a relationship is in itself to me.

I don't really know how I'm supposed to act towards her.  It's only been six days after all.  I'm not uncomfortable with her but sometimes I worry that I'm saying the wrong thing, that she'll get scared and leave me.  I have a tendency to frighten people.  And like I said, this whole thing is kind of new.

I've never felt so…much.  And I don't know if I'm supposed to show her all of that, tell her, or if I should keep at least some of it to myself.

God, she'd laugh if she knew what a pathetic sap she's turned me into in just six short days.  I know I'm better off not letting her see it but sometimes I want to tell her everything.  Everything she is to me and everything I want for us.  Sometimes it builds up in me so strong and I feel like I'll explode if I don't let it out.

Like now.

God, just looking at her like this, I feel butterflies in my stomach and a burn in the back of my throat like I might burst into tears and an ache inside me that I can't explain at all.  And I'm happy.  I feel really happy.

And hard.  Always.  I swear, all I have to do is glance in her direction, or even just think of her, and I'm randy as a fifteen year old.  I don't know what the sanitation committee must have thought of my random boner this afternoon.  Wasn't even a fantasy or a daydream or anything.  I just thought about seeing her tonight in passing, "gosh, I wanna see her tonight" and there it was, evidence of my lovesick dementia, pressed against my zipper, as I stood in front of a room full of people, giving a lecture concerning the virtue of speedy poop removal.

The sound of typing stops and I hear her sigh.  She pushes the keyboard across the desk and rubs her hands over her face.  I suppose now would be a good time to make myself known.  Like I said, I don't know much about relationships.  But I know enough to realize that most women don't like being spied on.

I walk towards her, my heart thudding against my chest, faster and faster the closer I get to her.  Man, how bad have I got it?  Jesus.

She doesn't look up as I approach.  She's got her face buried in her palms now and gives no indication that she's heard me at all.  When I'm standing behind her I reach out a tentative hand.  Still not sure about the public displays of affection thing.  She's a pretty private person so I've been controlling my need to touch her when we're out as much as I can.  But there's nobody here now.  Like I said, it's deserted at night.

I lay my hand on her shoulder and she starts for a second and then immediately relaxes into my touch.  She knows who I am.  Without turning around.  Just by the way I touch her.

She lets out another long, heavy sigh and I squeeze her shoulder, almost dizzy with the electricity I feel when we connect.  I start kneading the tense muscles in her shoulder blade and she sighs again.  A different sigh.  A happy sigh.   I rub harder, thrilled and still a little surprised that she enjoys it when I touch her.

She scoots forward so that she's sitting on the edge of the chair.  An invitation.

I lift a leg up, hoping like hell that I won't kick her by mistake, and straddle the seat behind her.  Sliding down to a sitting position causes me to drag my crotch along her spine and I'm helpless to stop the grunt that comes from somewhere deep in my chest.

Once I'm sitting she pushes back into me, settling her perfect, worshipped ass between my thighs, and resting her back against my chest.  I continue to massage her shoulder until she drops her head; a silent request to move to her neck.  I dig my fingers into the taut flesh and she moans.  I work my way up to her scalp, loosening the knot in her hair and letting it fall out and over her shoulders.  The pencil that had previously been holding the whole structure together falls to the floor.

"Mmm…Alex."

I wonder what she thinks about when she says my name.  I wonder what she feels at times like this.

I want to ask her but for some reason, I'm terrified of the answer.

So I just keep rubbing her neck, her head, her shoulders, hoping that I can communicate something to her that way.

"Hungry?"  I ask, my head now resting on her left shoulder as my hand works out the kinks in the right one.

"Mmmmmhuummm," she sighs and I have no idea what that means so I turn my head to the side and look at her face.  Her eyes are closed and she's smiling that sweet, beautiful smile.  I still don't know if she's hungry but I'm glad I looked.

I kiss her cheek softly.  A surge of need throbs from my lips down to my cock and I stop my massage and wrap my arm possesively around her waist and squeeze her tight.  I bury my face in her neck and inhale deeply.  Wool and soap and her…God, her.

I kiss her neck sloppily, greedily, and she seems to melt into me.  I run my tongue around her ear and move my hand underneath her sweater so that I can touch the soft skin on her belly.

"Alex…"

"God, devotchka, I need to touch you so badly," I choke, sounding like the desperate fool that I am.

"Mmm…yeah."

I take that as permission to slip my hand under the waistband of her sweatpants and move my fingers gently down over her panties.  Well, it starts gentle anyway.  And then I feel the moisture, seeping through the fabric and it just about sets me over the edge.

Her head falls back against my shoulder and she moans again as I continue my massage between her legs.  God, I can't get enough of this.

I need to feel her skin to skin so I shove my hand into her underwear and glide my finger back and forth across her.

"You're so wet," I murmur and she shudders.

"Mmmohhr," she groans and I move a little harder, a little faster.  She bucks into my hand and I think she wants still more.  God, I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

I mean I do but, she's so different than anyone I've ever been with.  I want to know instinctually how to please her and I think that I've been doing okay so far but…I want to do better.  I want to be the best.  I don't like asking for help, in this area or any other.  But I try to think of this as her helping herself more than anything.

"Show me," I whisper into her ear.  "Show me how."

She turns her head towards me quickly, questioningly.

"Yeah?"  she asks, apparantly confused by my low cockiness quotient this evening.

"Yeah."

She smiles and nods and closes her eyes again.  Then she reaches down and puts her right hand over mine.

She leads me through a series of elaborate maneuvers which I struggle to memorize.  Around the clit, slow then fast then stop then do it again.  Then press down hard and that makes her gasp real loud so I know I won't forget that one.

The fact that she's doing this, that she trusts me enough, is the biggest turn on I can imagine and I find myself unconsciously grinding against her ass.  She seems to notice and begins rocking back and forth between our hands and my cock.

She guides one of my fingers inside of her and together we pump in and out of her, fast and hard.  Then she pulls me back out and we spread more of the wetness over her.  Her left hand, which had been resting on the desk in front of us works its way up and around and into my hair.

Soon she's pressing me down on her clit in a series of quick rotations and actually bouncing up and down against me and just when I think I might come in my pants she lets out a howl that seems to echo throughout the entire building, shudders, and collapses against my chest.

I chuckle into her ear and give her one last squeeze before pulling my hand out of her pants and wrapping my arm around her waist again.

She turns to me and I kiss her for a very long time, breathing in her pants and sighs like oxygen, holding her shivering body tightly against me.  Post-orgasmic Dana is one of the seven wonders of the world.

"Mmm…Alex…"  she whispers and tucks her head under my chin.

"Good?"

"Very."

"Thanks for the lesson."

She laughs and squeezes my arm.

"Any time.  Just don't forget what you've learned here today, young man."

"Well, you know what they say.  Best way to learn anything is by practicing.  Over and over and over."

She kisses me over her shoulder again with a grin.

"Maybe we should get out of here so you can give me a lesson of my own," she murmers against my lips.

"You don't need a lesson, devotchka.  You know just what to do."

"Not true.  There's always room for improvement in this area.  It takes a big man to admit that.  So, thank you."

"All in days' work for Alex Krycek, stud for hire."

She rolls her eyes but can't help laughing a little.

"Anyway, why should you get to have all the fun.  I wanna see you too, Alex.  I want you to show me what you do…"

She starts kissing my neck and turning herself around completely.  Before I know it, she's straddling my lap and God help me, I don't think we're gonna make it out of the library tonight.

God, I'm a lucky fuck.

End Chapter Ten
Continued in Chapter Eleven

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