TITLE: World Without End:
Book Two (4/?)
AUTHOR: Rachel Anton
E-MAIL: RAnton1013@aol.com
I miss my Alex.
It hit me today, the way most things concerning Alex seem to; sudden and hard. I worked in the infirmary today instead of the research lab. This winter a lot of the younger children have been getting the flu and today they had an overrun of sick kids so I spent the day there, doing whatever I could to help. It was a busy, stressful day but for some reason, this afternoon as I was taking my twentieth temperature it snuck into my consciousness out of the blue. We haven't made love since Mulder's been here. It's been two weeks already.
And two weeks since Alex told me that he loves me.
I'm not sure why it's been happening, or rather, hasn't been, but I don't like it. We've both been very busy, but we're always very busy. I'd like to believe that it's not about Mulder, but I suppose that's the only explanation. Things have just been…odd between us lately. I don't think either of us has figured out how to just be yet. I think he's afraid to touch me. No, I don't like it.
I still haven't told Mulder about us. Maybe that's part of it too. Maybe some pathetic, denial wracked part of me feels that if we don't actually have sex then I'm not actually hiding anything from Mulder.
The morning after that first strange day, when I let Mulder out of his cage, I went back to his room and asked him something that I'd forgotten about. Something very important. I asked him how in the world he had managed to find us.
He told me about the tape and about Spender and the smoking bastard. He told me that they probably know where we are. I told Alex about that and we've yet to decide what exactly to do about it. Or what it even means. It was a very upsetting thing to find out. But the fact that Mulder told me was the first sign I got that I could really start to trust him again.
And after he told me that he started telling me about his life, what he'd been doing for all these years. How he'd been missing me. The work he'd been doing. The limited information he'd had access to.
I've been spending time with him since then, getting him used to living here, explaining how things work and such. My anger towards him has been waning somewhat and we've been getting along, getting to the point where we feel somewhat comfortable around each other again. And it's been nice. And I'm afraid that if I tell him about Alex, things are going to be not so nice. I don't know why I'm being such a coward about this. I wish I could stop.
He asked me where I lived last week and I just pointed in the general direction of the building like a moron, completely ignoring the one genuine opportunity I've had to explain things to him. My avoidance is starting to annoy Alex.
A lot of things are starting to annoy Alex. Not the least of which, I'm sure, being the fact that we haven't made love in two goddamn weeks. Tonight…tonight I will try. I will try to show him what I still can't seem to say.
God, it's so late already. I've been here forever. I missed dinner I'm sure. Alex is probably over at the lab looking for me. I don't think he knew I was in the infirmary today.
I start to hurry in getting what I need to get done so that I can get out of here and go home. Sterilizing medical equipment is sort of a dull task and as I carry it out I find myself starting to daydream in a way that I haven't allowed myself to in quite some time. I think about him kissing me, touching me, brushing my hair and it makes me so warm inside. God, why have I been doing this to us?
I have to get out of here.
Just have to bring these thermometers back into the examining room and I'll be done. I push open the door to the back room and when I see them there, I feel a sickening knot form in my stomach.
It's Alex. And that…woman. I've only seen her a couple of times since they first got here. Mulder told me a little bit about her, who she was in the time before and why he had brought her with him. Alex hasn't mentioned her at all even though he knew her, said her name when he saw her.
She's sitting on the stool I've been using in examinations all day and Alex is sitting on a chair behind her, his knees around her waist and his hand buried under her hair. He's looking down at her neck intently.
I start to say something but find that my throat is too dry to speak. God, what…
He looks up suddenly, startled. As if I'd caught him doing something bad. Have I?
Then I see the tweezers in his hand and the blood.
"Al…Alex, what are you doing?"
"I'm uh..taking this out," he mumbles, holding up the tweezers. A small, round, metallic chip is wedged between the two tips.
"Oh, no no no. Alex, you're not even wearing gloves! "
Now that I know what's happening, at least on the surface, my near panic subsides and gives way to annoyance and disbelief. What the hell was he thinking?
I walk over to them and he stands up quickly, allowing me access to her. Her neck is bleeding profusely. I take a pair of rubber gloves from my pocket and snap them on, barking an order for Alex to get me some antiseptic and a washcloth.
I start tending to the wound on her neck and Alex stands by, gawking and opening and closing his mouth. Marita still hasn't moved or spoken.
"Marita, it's Dana. How are you?"
When I speak to her she jumps and turns around to look at me. It doesn't look like she recognizes me at all from the past two weeks.
I can't resist glaring at Alex. I can't even believe he tried to do this himself.
"It's…this is how I did yours…" he says in a shrill, defensive tone. Yes, it is. And it went so well that time, didn't it.
"Marita? Are you okay?"
She's starting to breathe too fast and her eyes are tearing up. She looks completely confused and panicked.
"It's okay, Marita. Breathe…"
She jumps up suddenly and grabs at her neck. Then she looks at Alex. She looks at Alex and she looks utterly terrified.
"Alex…?" she whispers. I stand myself and look at him. He's looking at the ground.
"Alex, oh God…what did you do to me?"
She starts pulling at the bandage I just put on her neck and clawing at the skin.
"No, Marita don't touch it," I tell her and, strangely, she listens to me.
"What did you do, Alex? Where am I? What the HELL is going on?! "
I look at Alex again, hoping for some kind of reassurance but none if forthcoming. He's just standing there like a jack-ass. God, what the hell was he thinking?
"Marita, it's okay. I'll take you to your room and we can talk and get you some dinner and…"
"Where the hell am I?"
She's shouting now, and crying and Goddamn you Alex, this is NOT the way I wanted to spend this night.
I put my hands on her shoulders and try to lead her to the door but she jerks away from me, snapping, "Get your hands off me! " and then glaring at Alex herself.
"What the hell did you do to me you sonofabitch?"
"Um…maybe I…maybe I should go," he says. Great. That's just really great.
"Yeah, go. Let me clean up your mess. It's really my pleasure."
"I…I'm upsetting her. I don't…"
And then, as if to prove his point, Marita grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him.
"What the hell did you do to me?! Tell me you bastard! "
He pulls away and backs towards the door with a horrified look on his face. I can't even begin to understand what he thought was going to happen when he did this. And I can't keep myself from wondering how exactly these two knew each other. Whatever the relationship was, it doesn't look as though it was a good one. But then why would he feel the need to take her chip out himself?
God, I don't have time to wonder about this. She's crying again and scratching at her neck and Alex is creeping out the door like a little snake.
"I'm…I'll get another doctor or something," he mutters.
"Don't bother. I'll tell her what she wants to know. I'll stay with her."
He nods and stands in the doorway for a moment, just staring.
"Alex…"
"I…I'm sorry," he says quietly. And then he leaves.
Marita has collapsed into the chair he was sitting on before and she's sobbing now. I try to hug her but she won't let me. It's going to be a long night.
*************************
It's been almost five hours since I left them. About two hours ago I toyed with the idea of going back but I told myself they were probably gone by now and that I would have no idea where to look for them. Yes, I know where Marita's room is. No, I am not a coward.
I'm not. I know that's probably what she thinks of me now. I saw it in her eyes as she watched me leave her there with "my mess". She thinks I screwed things up and then ran away when the shit hit the fan. She doesn't understand.
I had to do it. It was my responsibility. Why doesn't she understand that? We used to be so together on things like this. She used to understand me.
A little voice in my head reminds me that I haven't exactly been open with her, that I might have been better off talking to her about the situation beforehand, asking for her help maybe. But the little voice shuts up fast when the big voice starts thinking about all the other crap I've been putting up with lately. How am I supposed to talk to her about anything anymore? She's never here.
It seems like I've been seeing less and less of her since Mulder came here. And who knows how much of the time that she spends away from me is spent with him. I've been true to my promise to her and stayed far away from him. I haven't even seen him more than once or twice since that first couple of days. But I feel his presence here as strongly as if he'd packed up his stuff and moved into my living room.
She still hasn't told him about us. I don't know how much longer she thinks she can keep it a secret. It's getting ridiculous.
And how long has it been since I finally spilled my guts all over this floor? I'm beginning to think that telling her I love her and trying to apologize for whatever I might have done to hurt her was the biggest mistake I've ever made. She's been so distant since that night.
The most pathetic thing is I keep repeating the idiocy. It seems like every time I see her the crap starts pouring out of my mouth. I love you, Dana. Oh, I love you so much. And she just sits there staring at the wall like I'm reciting tax law to her. Fucking pathetic.
And goddammit, how long has it been since we've had sex again? Oh yeah, since Mulder got here. Funny how that works.
So, yeah, none of this has anything to do with what just happened but it's really starting to piss me off and it's making it difficult to look at anything with an open mind.
Maybe I should tell her about Marita and me. Maybe she'd be jealous. Maybe then she'd start to care about us again.
Not bloody likely. It's not like there's anything to be jealous of. The story's more humiliating than anything else and the last thing I need to feel right now is humiliated.
The sound of the door slamming interrupts my thoughts. Finally.
Ret runs to her and jumps up, putting his paws on her chest and licking her face. Wish it were that easy for me. She smiles and kisses him and then tells him to get down and he does. Stupid dog is more whipped than I am.
She gives me a nasty look.
"Did you eat?" she asks in a thoroughly bitchy tone. I'm sitting at the table so I guess it's a reasonable question but it pisses me off for some reason.
"No."
"So what were you doing here all this time?"
"Sitting."
She makes a disgusted face and leaves the room.
"I made coffee," I call out to her as she walks into the bedroom. Don't ask me why. I guess to show that I've done something besides brood without her.
"Did you leave any for me?" she asks in that same tone. Then she slams some drawers around.
"There's plenty. It's not very good though."
"Of course," she grumbles. Like it's my fault the coffee maker is from the 1970's, bitch?
Oh God. What the hell is happening to us?
"Where the hell is my green T-shirt?" she shouts, amidst more slamming and banging.
"Under the cushions on the couch."
Right where I stuffed it last time we had sex ten million years ago. I haven't been able to go over there and take it out because it'll just make me think of that and I can't think about having sex with her anymore. It's actually starting to hurt my dick even now.
Just as I'm contemplating burning the sofa she comes running out of the bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of plaid flannel pajama bottoms. No top. No bra. Nothing.
She goes to the couch and starts digging around in the cushions and her breasts are swaying and bouncing and she's taken her hair out of the bun it was in before and it's hanging down her back and just brushing the tips of her nipples which are hard and rosy and…God. What was I thinking about before?
She finally finds the shirt and lifts it up from where it's wedged but before she can put it on I walk over to her and grab part of it.
"Don't," I say, gently I hope.
"Don't what? Alex, give me my shirt."
"Don't put it on."
I tug on the shirt, pulling her closer to me.
"Why? Alex, let go." She pulls on it and I pull back.
"C'mere."
"No, Alex, I'm not kidding around. Let go of my shirt. I'm going to bed."
"So what do you need a shirt for if you're going to bed?"
"I'm cold."
"I can keep you warm. Come here."
I let go of the stupid shirt and move closer to her. I reach out and start to wrap my arm around her waist but she pulls away with a start when my hand touches her skin.
"Don't! Don't touch me."
I step back from her immediately. Far back. She sounds almost frightened. Jesus. I can't deal with this anymore. I don't even know what to say to her. Which is good I guess because she just walks away anyhow, pulling her stupid shirt over her head and disappearing into the bedroom.
I can't even move. All I can do is stand here and stare at the spot where she just told me not to touch her.
And then suddenly, she's back, behind me.
"How do you know her?"
I turn around cautiously, wondering what mood she's decided to switch to now.
"What?"
"Marita. How do you know her?"
"I thought you didn't want to talk about the time before," I say, snidely I suppose. But what the hell does she care anyway? She's got some kind of strange selectivness when it comes to the past that I can't figure out. Our past starts five years ago. None of the rest matters. Except Mulder of course. He matters. Their past is significant. And now, apparantly, whatever stupid-ass things I might have done that have nothing to do with her matter as well.
"Did she work for them?"
"Yeah, she did. Kind of."
"Goddammit, Alex. Don't play this game with me. Tell me how you knew her! "
I can't believe this. Can't fucking believe it.
"I just did. She was…I dunno, she was just around…"
"How well did you know her?"
"I dunno, not too well."
That's the God's honest truth but she looks at me like she doesn't believe it.
"You're lying to me. I can tell."
"I'm not lying! Jesus, why are you giving me the third degree about this all of a sudden?"
"Because I just spent five hours sitting with this hysterical woman who wouldn't stop ranting about what a bastard you are and how you must have done something awful to her. And I wouldn't have been there in the first place if you hadn't tried to take her chip out all by yourself without even telling me about it and then run out on me when the shit hit the fan. And I know you're hiding something from me, Alex! And it feels like you're lying to me and I hate that! "
I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do here. I thought I wanted her to be jealous but this is not what I was thinking of. I don't even know what this is. It's like she can't even trust me anymore.
She stares at me for another minute and then storms back into the bedroom. When she comes back out she's carrying my pillow.
"What's that for?"
She just tosses it on the couch and says "Good night."
"Dana…"
"Come on, Ret. Time to go night night."
"Dammit, Dana! "
Fucking blackmail is what this is. Like it even matters where I sleep. She won't let me touch her no matter where I am.
"All right, fine. I slept with her. Okay? I slept with Marita a long long time ago. Is that what you wanted to know?"
She's quiet for a minute and her back is turned to me so I can't tell what the hell she's thinking. What's the big fucking deal? I've fucked practically everyone she knows in this place anyway.
"How much?" she asks.
"How much? What the hell does that mean?"
"I mean was it a one time thing or did you have a relationship with her or what?"
Relationship? God, I dunno whether to laugh at that or what. Doesn't she know she's the only person I've ever had anything even resembling a real relationship with?
"I don't know, Dana. It was something in between. Five or six times maybe. I dunno."
"Why didn't you put her in a holding cell?"
"Because she was a slave, Dana! What the hell was she gonna do?"
She nods a little bit but doesn't say anything. She might as well be a million miles away. And I just can't stand it any more. I just can't.
"Dammit, Dana, why are you so fucking pissed off at me?" I ask in a voice that's even louder and angrier than I intended. Not as loud as I'd like to be though. I feel like screaming.
She doesn't answer me. Just stands there with her back turned to me, probably making a list in her head. Reasons I can no longer stand you…
"I don't…I dunno…" she finally says quietly and her shoulders sag. "Did…did you love her?"
Oh my God. That's great. That's so fucking perfect I can't even believe it. I almost wish that I had.
"I barely knew her," I tell her, yet again. "She stabbed me in the back," I add stupidly. Like I'm not already dangling out there in the breeze. Maybe I should just hand over my balls right now and get it over with.
"I'm…I'm sorry. I need to go to bed…"
I'm not sure if she's apologizing for being angry with me or for wanting to go to sleep. I'm not sure if this means it's okay for me to sleep in my own bed now.
"All right. I'll see you in the morning."
She nods and starts walking back to the bedroom but then she stops and clears her throat. Something you'd like to say to me, Dana? Anything? Anything at all?
"Alex, you don't…you don't have to sleep out here."
Well, I guess that's something. Not much considering the fact that this is my fucking place to begin with, considering how fucking pathetic I am to let her dictate where I do and do not sleep at night.
"Whatever. It's up to you."
She turns around and smiles a very small but sweet smile.
"Come to bed, Alex."
And I do. I lie down next to her with my eyes wide open and my body stiff as a board and I stay that way for a very long time. I think that she lies next to me, equally awake but we don't touch each other. Her in her pajama pants and her fucking green T-shirt and me in my boxer shorts, afraid to offend her with my nakedness. We don't say another word. And I wonder if I'll ever be able to touch her again without hearing her words ringing in my ears.
Don't touch me, Alex. Don't touch me.
End Chapter Four
Continued in Chapter Five
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