TITLE: Conviction AUTHOR: Ladyhawk EMAIL ADDRESS: funger1@hofstra.edu DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, just tell me SPOILER WARNING: SR 819, vague rest of season 6 RATING: NC-17 CLASSIFICATION: V, A, R Pairing: M/Sk SUMMARY: Your convictions aren't always true. Skinner and Mulder learn this from each other. DISCLAIMER: You think I own them? Yeah right, I can't even afford one of Mulder's ties. CC owns them all. Author's notes: Sergeeva, because of you, this part at least is complete. Bless you. Feedback welcome at funger1@hofstra.edu Conviction by Ladyhawk (funger1@hofstra.edu) Chapter 1: Conviction The power of conviction can keep a person from crumbling or crush him under its weight. Conviction is what keeps Special Agent Fox Mulder's head high as he passes the open door of my secretary's office, presumably rushing to investigate minor legal infringements in the Midwest. I know better. He has gone behind the back of two Assistant Directors and two Special Agents to get what he needs, the means of finding the truth. I know someday he will find it, the truth about his sister, about the Consortium and that black-lung bastard, even the truth about what Krycek did to me a month ago. I hold a secret that Special Agent Mulder will never find out. That conviction weighs me down as I close the inner door of the office and lean back in my chair. This secret prompted me to stop Mulder and Scully from pursuing SR 819, from playing that deadly cat and mouse game with Krycek. I will do that alone. I glance over the expense report that Agent Spender handed me this morning. It looks empty without all the costs that my two incorrigible agents have and still do incur, if the rumors about them are correct. No renting scuba equipment to chase Loch Ness monsters, no hospital bills from injuries gotten while saving the world. The X-files are not under my jurisdiction, but I turn a blind eye to this out of loyalty to my former agents and because of my secret. My intercom blares. "Sir, Agent Mulder would like to speak with you." I wonder how long he wrestled with Kimberly before she called me. Persistance, thy name is Mulder. I brace myself for the argument I know is coming. "Let him in." "Sir, you are putting yourself in danger by not letting us research SR 819." I know it was too good to be true when he didn't approach me after our meeting a week ago. "My decision is final, Agent Mulder." My concern for his safety, THEIR safety prompted that decision. I intend to be the only one put under Krycek's electronic knife. "Sir, that man is still on the loose. I saw him when I entered the building this morning." I stare at him and nearly bolt out of my chair. "Did he touch you?" In one second flat my AD exterior flew out the window, leaving my panic clear for him to see. I don't want Krycek using him, THEM, as he is using me. That bastard obviously isn't done yet. Mulder seeks to calm me. "No, Sir. He was just watching Scully and me enter the building. I chased after him, but he was gone." How can I calm down with the weight of three people's lives on me? Not even that voice that thrills me with its tone of persistance, loyalty. . .Control, Skinner! He must not know! Keep him safe; the rest is irrelevant. "The case is closed, Mulder. Let it be." Exhasperation stiffens his movement. I can see that Mulder wants to lash out at me. He must think my by-the-book attitude has thwarted his quest for the truth. He couldn't be more wrong. I've become an expert at hiding lately. Intentions, motives. . . feelings, all hidden from view to ensure that Mulder's quest continues. But not with SR 819. It's too dangerous. Politically he would be ripped to shreds if he probed too deep. And his blood would be on my hands. The blood of my. . .STOP IT! Mulder must have seen the conflict in my eyes because he looks at me questioningly. But I cut him off before he can say anything. "Is there anything else?" "No, Sir." His eyes search me one last time before he walks out the door. I fall back into my chair, exhausted, troubled. I know Mulder and Scully will go after Krycek, with or without my help. That makes my search for him all the more urgent. I must get the answers or die trying so that my reason for living can live for me. Goddammit! Why did I have to go and fall in love with Fox Mulder? ********************************************************************************************** Chapter 2: I Am Not Convinced First, I am not convinced that Skinner doesn't know who that man is. In fact, I'm convinced he *does* know. The way he brushed off the pictures and our request convinced me of that. Then there is that look in his eyes today. I am not convinced he's dealing with the aftermath of SR 819 by the books. For a second, he looked haunted, as if he's trying to deal with the devil. I saw something else behind his eyes when I barged into his office today. It surprised me. He looked at me almost affectionately. Or was he only comisserating with the downtrodden? Either way, I think if I start investigating SR 819 again, he won't say a word. He's still involved. He may need help. And I will help him. I don't want anything to happen to Skinner. He's risked his career and his life to help Scully and me. I owe him. But right now I'm growing bored with this telephone conversation with the fiftieth person I've had to run a background check on today. "No Mr. Carter, I'm not accusing you of anything. This is a routine check." As I finish the call, Scully comes back to our section of the office. She smiles at me as she grabs her coat. "I'm going home Mulder. It's your turn to pick up breakfast in the morning." "Doughnuts ok Scully?" "Get me a bagel instead." "Ok. Goodnight, see you tomorrow." Scully waves as she makes her way to the front lobby. Scully, my best friend, my soulmate. At this point in time I can't live without her, and she does not want to live without me. But there is nothing physical between us. I've thrown some hints her way that I wouldn't mind something more. She brushed them off. I don't let it worry me. Our relationship is solid. If she doesn't want anything else, I'm not going to spoil US by pushing her. I just have to find other options. That's the hard part. My reputation precedes me. Not many people want to be seen with Spooky Mulder. The few women I've asked out since starting the X-files have either turned me down or did not extend our relationship beyond a one night stand. And my other option. . .Well, I have enough of a reputation. I didn't need anyone finding out I like to sleep with men too, so I didn't pursue any. I stare at the computer in front of me, the information on it meaningless to me. I sigh. There are days I feel so desperate for the touch of another human being that I'd be willing to break my rule about not pursuing men. Today is such a day. Oddly enough, the image of Skinner with that look in his eyes this morning floats through my mind. Stop it, there's no way that's going to happen. I take a deep breath and try to get back to work. -------------------------------------------------------- Two hours and three files later, I finally get ready to call it quits. I'm too tired and frustrated to do anything more tonight. I gather the files and walk to put them in a bin near the wall when somebody calls my name. "Mulder, don't you ever go home?" Skinner walks toward me, his coat on his arm. "I want to talk to you for a minute, if you don't mind." "I was just finishing up some background checks, Sir. What do you want?" I know I sound sullen, but all I want to do now is get home to my video collection so I can relax. "I don't want you pursuing SR 819. I know you had plans to look into it, but let me keep an eye on the situation for now. I don't think anyone else is in danger from that man right now." He looks me straight in the eye, daring me to deny my intentions. His words confirm my suspicion. He knows who that man is. But why is he pursuing this alone? That man could kill him. "Sir, it's too risky. . ." I barely get this out before he interrupts me. "Look Mulder, you and I both know that you do good work, but right now you can't afford to bend the rules. Kersch already thinks you are nothing more than a liability to the Bureau. I'll be ok. I don't. . ." Skinner suddenly turns his head away from me, as if he wants to hide his thoughts from me. I look down. His hands are shaking, gripping his coat tightly. "Sir?" What the hell has him so agitated? His concern for our well-being drove him anger and criminal acts, but I've never seen him like this. "I just don't want to see you hurt." His eyes meet mine again. I see a flame in them combined with the affection I thought I saw this morning. He reaches out to take my hand and grips it tightly. "Please, Mulder. Don't do it." I give him the only promise I can. "I'll stay out of it as long as nobody else gets hurt." He accepts this and leaves me with my thoughts. ----------------------------------------------------------------- I grab my coat and head toward the outside world. My rush to get home to my video collection is forgotten as I try to figure out exactly what I saw on Skinner's face today. I know Skinner cares what happens to Scully and me, and that he has tried to keep me from destroying myself a few times. That doesn't explain what I saw today. That was more like how Scully looks when she talks about her mom. And there was something else, just a glimmer. Dare I hope it was attraction? God, I am getting desperate. Even if Skinner is attracted to me, acting on the knowledge could get us both into a jam. He has enough on his shoulders already. But I'm still planning a way to act upon my suspicions, finding a way to act on a fantasy I've buried so deep that I haven't even acknowledged it until now. Because I am not convinced I am alone in my lust and desperation. I'm not convinced at all. ********************************************************************************************** Chapter 3: Persuasion My desperation and my fantasies are making it difficult to function at work. I see him everyday, usually walking down the hall to and from his office. I haven't acted on my suspicions yet, I wanted to wait until the crisis with SR 819 was completely over. Well, I don't think we've seen the last of the long-haired man, but I haven't seen him lately and Skinner's lost that pinched look that was on his face for days after I talked to him last. I think its safe to start acting on my plan. My first opportunity comes when I'm asked to help out with a VCS case in Maryland. Although Scully told me Kersch considers me a "lost cause," I guess I'm still too valuable to completely throw aside. Someone should have told that to the agents I'm working with. The minute I walked into sight of Agents Reid and Sarno, they started questioning my every move instead those of the suspects. To make matters worse, this case involved the ritual murders of five children. I have had enough when I make little progress due to these two clowns and a sixth child dies. I make the decision to approach Skinner out of desperation. He knows how people respond to "Spooky Mulder." I doubt Kersch knows or cares. "Come in Mulder. Kimberly said you needed to talk to me immediately?" As I explain the situation to Skinner, his face takes on a red tone. "Continue your work, I'll have a talk with Reid and Sarno." This is said in that gruff tone he tends to take on when trying to protect Scully and me. An inspiration hits me, both to feed some information to Skinner and to get those idiots to back off. "Oh, and can you tell Sarno to quit making passes at me. I'd take him up on the offer but I don't sleep with people who insult me." It is widely known in Bureau circles that Sarno is gay, and he did make one pass at me, but it was just a look and a touch on the shoulder. But I know he'd view my comment to Skinner as an accusation of sexual harassment. It is also a way to suggest to Skinner that I like men. Hey, it's a start. I get a questioning look from Skinner after this but he nods and calls for Kimberly to come into his office. I'm not bothered by Reid and Sarno anymore and the murderers are caught before another child could be hurt. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Only half awake, I gasp as my dream comes back to me. Skinner, dead from SR 819, Scully dying of the same, I'm powerless. My chair rolls slightly as my body squirms. This jolts me awake enough to open my eyes. Skinner is staring into my face with a worried expression. "Mulder, are you ok?" "Yes, Sir. Sorry." I look back at him guiltily. I didn't mean to fall asleep at my desk. I'm supposed to be waiting for Scully to call so I can run checks on the suspects in the case she's working on. But it's almost midnight and my insomnia has been in high gear this week. Skinner pulls up a chair from another desk as my phone rings. "Mulder." "Mulder, it's me. Why don't you go home and save those checks for tomorrow. I don't have any more information to give you right now. I'm sorry to keep you there so late. I was hoping we could wrap this up tonight." "It's ok Scully. I've improved my skills in solitaire. Have a good night and I'll talk to you tomorrow." I hang up and turn toward Skinner who is looking at me pensively. "Is there something I can do for you, Sir?" "You can tell me what was in your dream that nearly knocked you out of your chair." Skinner lays his hand on my shoulder. His concerned eyes draw me in. I squirm a little as my body responds to his overpowering presence. "I ah dreamed that Scully was dying again." I turn my eyes away from his, trying to get back under control. Too many feelings are pulling at me at once: attraction, worry that my dream will come true, something pulling at my gut that I don't dare label. Skinner grabs my chin and forces my head back. "Scully is safe. I promise you that." Suddenly, he backs away from me and I can see his hand shaking slightly. His face is schooled into a calm mask, but for a split second I saw that affectionate look again. This time I act. I grab his hand and squeeze slightly, trying to convey my thanks and empathy for his current condition. He smiles slightly, then gets up out of the chair. "Go home Mulder. Get some real sleep." He then walks back to his office. My eyes follow him, but I don't see him glance back even once. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Three days later, I see Skinner standing by my car as I walk to it after a tiring day of tapping the Bureau database for background checks. "Mulder, can I talk to you?" "Is something wrong, Sir?" I dare not hope that I'm getting his attention. "It's not work related. Let's go for a drink?" I agree and suggest a quiet bar a few blocks away from Hoover. We each drive in our own cars and meet at the door of the small building. Skinner picks out a booth and we order two beers. Skinner sighs. "Let me be blunt about this. Are you coming on to me?" I don't know what to say. I suddenly am very afraid that I misinterpreted his glances and that he is offended. My fear must show on my face because he continues. "Because if you are, I'd like to accept your offer." I stumble over my words. "Yeah, un yeah I was. Well, uh, how do we go about this?" "Meet me at this motel tomorrow night at eight o'clock. I'll take care of getting the room, and some food if you want." He hands me an address for a small motel right outside of Alexandria, which I've seen and know is relatively clean and quiet. "Ok. How about some Chinese?" "Fine, I'll see you tomorrow night." With that, Skinner finishes his beer and grabs his coat. He squeezes my shoulder and is gone. As I finish my own beer, something occurs to me. I'm about to get what I've wanted for a long time, but all of a sudden, I want something more. *********************************************************************************************** Chapter 4: Lack of Knowledge I knew exactly what I was getting when I made Mulder that offer last night. He wants sex, a release of tension, nothing more. I want it all, love, passion, maybe even commitment later, but right now I'll have to take what I can get. Plans whirl in my head as I grab my coat and plan to leave my office on time, for once. I need to change my clothes, catch up on some bills, give myself some time to let this sink in. When I get to my apartment, I rush through a shower and dress in jeans, sneakers, and a tan pull-over sweater. I sit down at my small kitchen table and write checks to pay my rent and insurance, among other things. All the while, I'm trying to ignore the nagging doubts that keep interrupting my routine. As I go back out the door at seven with an overnight bag filled with necessities, these doubts have put butterflies in my stomach and have a light sweat covering my body. Am I doing the right thing here? Maybe I should have ignored Mulder's cues and just left well enough alone. I know I jumped the gun on him, I propositioned him before his 'seduction' got past the hand-holding stage. Did I scare him off by rushing into this? My body is working on automatic at this point. I barely remember driving and stopping for various containers of Chinese takeout before I reach the small motel. It's 6:45 as I stop at the reception desk to get the key to the room. I must be scaring the teenager at the desk with my gruff tone. His hands shake even more than mine when he hands me the key. As I park my Buick in the appropriate spot and walk over to open the door, I see Mulder's Taurus pull up. Suddenly, I can barely hold the key steady enough to fit it into the lock. Somehow I manage to get the door open and I beckon Mulder inside as he walks toward me. A quick stop back at my car to grab the food and my bag, and I come inside and lock the door. Mulder is sitting on the edge of the king-sized bed wringing his hands. He too, is wearing jeans and a sweater, both black. His leather jacket is lying next to him on the bed. I take the food over to the little table and take off my coat. I gesture with my hand to invite him over. "Let's eat. Tell me what I'm missing in the main office." I smile slightly, trying to get him to lose that pinched look on his face. "Scully finally solved that case she was working on and is back home. Kersch wants to send her out on another one, but she put her foot down. I don't think she likes leaving me alone for too long." I know exactly what he means. Kersch is trying to give Scully a shot at a credible job, away from Mulder. She's not biting. In fact, she has made her undying loyalty known to the entire Bureau to try to get Kersch off her back. I want to lash out at Kersch for trying to bury Mulder and pull his only friend away from him, but I'm already in hot water. I'm biding my time the best I can. In the meantime, I'm doing what I can to slip Mulder some of the X-files Fowley and Spender turn their noses up at. But Mulder doesn't know this. "I don't blame her. You tend to get into trouble when her back is turned." Mulder chuckles at this as he takes a bite of shrimp. Some of the tension leaves the room and we share a knowing glance. The X-files have cost us both a lot: loved ones, status, pride, health. During our exchange of empathetic looks, I vow to work even harder to get Mulder and Scully back where they belong: in the basement, saving the world from what it doesn't know. But first thing first. I finish off my broccoli and chicken, and toss the containers in the trash. "So, what now?" Mulder looks at me, slightly shocked. I guess he expected me to jump him as soon as he finished eating. Hell, I may be rather brusk and no-nonsense at the Bureau, but my personal life is a whole different matter. "It's up to you Mulder. We can continue this, or we can go back to our respective apartments and forget the whole thing." Nervousness covers his face. "I want to, but I don't know how. . ." "You haven't had sex with a man before?" "No, it's not that. I've had experience with other guys. But they were spontaneous, in dark corners, you know . . ." "You didn't have to think about it, try to figure out where to begin. I've been there, too. Do whatever you are comfortable with Mulder. Let's not make this a challenge. It's just a way to relax. I know you need that after all that you've been through in the past couple months." Mulder gets up and moves toward the bed. He looks back at me, a question on his face. "Will you let me. . .I want to fuck you." It's not exactly what I had in mind but my heart wouldn't let me deny him what he wants. I stand up and grab my bag, extracting a small bottle of lube and a condom. His hand shakes slightly as he takes them from me and puts them on the night table. We stand for a minute, staring at each other. I'm waiting for him to make the first move, I don't want to scare him. Finally, he grabs the bottom of my sweater and pulls it up. I help him pull it over my head and toss it in the corner of the room. Lightening shoots through me as his hands smooth over my shoulders, tickling my nipples. I reach to meld my lips to his, but he turns his head away and falls to his knees. Fumbling fingers unfasten my jeans and pull them and my underwear toward my ankles in one movement. Those same fingers are more adept when they encircle my erection. I barely begin to give myself over to the sensations washing over me when I catch Mulder's eyes. That's when I notice the change in him. Those hazel orbs hold a far away look and his actions have taken on an almost mechanical quality. My pleasure subsides noticeably. But Mulder doesn't seem to notice. He just gets up and strips off his clothes quickly. "Get on the bed." I quickly toe off my sneakers and pull the clothes off my legs. Mulder watches distractedly as I lie down on my back. "No, on your stomach." Before I can protest that I wanted to watch him, he is tugging on my arm to pull me face down. I relent, concerned that Mulder is not really here with me. His next actions reinforce that conclusion. He grabs the condom and lube and prepares himself quickly. Without preparing me at all, his cock shoves into my tight opening. I groan in pain. "Mulder, let up a little. It hurts." His only response is to begin to piston his rod into me, hard. Every stroke pulls a gasp of agony from my lips. I turn to try to decipher what is going on in his head. His face is strained, with his eyes tightly shut. Shock tugs at me when I notice the tear tracks on his cheeks. Mulder's body drives him to completion before I can get the nerve up to question him. He pulls out of me quickly. I bury my head in a pillow to muffle my scream of pain. His jeans are on him before I am able to turn over and look towards him. He catches my eyes for a second, then turns his head. "Uh, thank you, S--." He catches himself before the word is finished. He says nothing more but continues to dress rapidly. I quickly move off the bed as he shrugs into his jacket. He jerks away as I reach for his shoulder. "Mulder, where are you going?" "I have to get back to my apartment. Scully will be there soon." The lie doesn't sound very convincing, but confusion mutes my response. All I can think to do is grab my underwear as he hurries out the door. I finish dressing slowly as I hear a car door slam and a motor start. As Mulder's car roars away, I finally turned my thoughts back to the specifics of what just happened. One thing quickly became apparent. Mulder didn't have sex with me tonight. I don't have any clue what was going on behind his eyes, but I am determined to find out. Whatever it is, it's torturing him. I doubt he got any pleasure from our coupling. I grab my things and walk over to the office to hand in the key. As I get into my car and drive away, one thought occupies me. How do I save Mulder from his inner demons? ************************************************************************************************ Chapter 5: The Pain of Prejudice I have to stop the car on the side of the road about a mile from the motel to calm down. My hands are shaking so badly I can't even hold the wheel. What the hell did I just do? Yeah, I know my what my actions were. I just fucked my former boss. The hardnosed Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner. So why do I barely remember any of it? I wish I didn't have an answer for that too, but I do. I left my body while having sex with a man. Again. The tormenting world of my mind swallowed me up again, pulling me back into the punishment of a past I am trying frantically to escape. But this time I hurt someone. There was a trail of blood on the sheet when I pulled out of him. Not a lot, but enough to convince me that he wasn't safe if I stayed there any longer. So I left. I pulled the first lie I could think of out of me "genius" mind and ran like a scared rabbit. That confused look in his eyes was a too-small punishment for what I had done to him, but he let me go without anything more. What do I do now? I can't face him, not after this. He must think I'm psychotic. I'm not so sure I'm not. Breathe. Try to get under control. After a couple of minutes, I drive home, to fight my demons alone. -------------------------------------------------------------- Damn, what is he doing here? As I get off the elevator on the 4th floor, I see him. He must have heard the elevator open, because as I walk out, he's turning toward me. His glasses hide his eyes, but his face appears calm. "Agent Mulder, I want to talk to you. Please." He emphasizes the last word as he moves to let me open the door. I don't meet his eyes, but I gesture for him to walk into the apartment as I flick on a light. He looks around for a minute, then seats himself on the couch, not bothering to take his coat off. I keep my stance a few feet away, and nervously watch his movements. He doesn't speak until those calm brown eyes meet mine. "Who hurt you?" How can he be so calm and quiet after what I did to him? He should be railing at me, punishing me for what I did to him. Yet he sits on my couch and looks at me as if he just asked me what the weather will be tomorrow. Ironically, his calm face makes me see red. "What do you care? I gave you what you wanted, didn't I?" "No you didn't, but that's not the issue here. Who hurt you?" I back away towards the door as he gets up and moves to reach for me. "Mulder, let me help you." "No. No! You won't understand! I--can't.." A red haze falls over my sight and I reach blindly to fight the demons I feel attacking me. I don't even realize that I'm moving until Skinner clutches my hand tightly to keep it from connecting with my wall. I lunge at him, enraged further, but he grabs my shoulders tightly, preventing me from doing any harm to either of us. He turns me and pushes me backward toward the couch. Struggling does nothing to stop this. He pushes down on my shoulders, and I drop, my strength suddenly leaving me as exhaustion sets in. He plants himself on the coffee table in front of me and grabs my hand. It is rare that I'm touched with such tenderness. Only the sound of our breathing and the tick of my wall clock mar the silence. So tired. . . My eyes droop shut, the feel of his strong hand caressing mine soothes me. --------------------------------------------------- The next thing I know, sunlight is streaming in through the shades on my livingroom windows and the smell of coffee pulls me from unconsciousness. My eyes open to see one of the pillows and the blanket from the waterbed lying on the floor next to me in a heap. As footsteps echo from my tiny kitchen, my sight raises to take in Skinner walking toward me, two coffee cups in his hands. He hands me a cup, which I take gratefully. "I hope you don't mind. I didn't want to leave you alone last night." "It's fine. Thanks." His smile is soft and sympathetic, but he doesn't say a word. Instead he moves the coffee table back next to the couch and picks up the blanket and pillow and returns them to the bedroom. When he returns to the livingroom, I'm standing next to the sofa, trying to make sense of everything that has happened the last few days. "Mulder." Softly, just enough to get my attention. I turn toward caring eyes. "I can see this is tough, but I'd like to understand. What is going on?" Ah, hell, this is my punishment for what I've done. He deserves an explanation. I give in and prepare to meet my fate. ------------------------------------------------- After Samantha was abducted when I was twelve, my parents withdrew from life as much as possible. Holidays were silent and grey instead of the cheerful celebrations they were before. My steps toward maturity, first dates, proms, graduations were ignored or met with a degrading comment about my competency at school or in social circles. I had to learn to survive on my own quickly, with nothing to comfort me. When I was seventeen, in during the summer before I left for Oxford, I met someone who I thought could change all that. Steven was twenty, three years my senior, but was as enthusiastic about life as a ten year old. He took me to carnivals on the mainland, dragged me through Boston to see the sites I usually ignored, and taught me the joys of swimming in the water that had so often made me sick as I rode its waves with my father. Steve never cued me about his sexuality, but before the end of that summer, my view of him had changed drastically. He was my best friend and confidante. He sat with me in the sand on the beach as I cried over Sam and the lost connection with my parents. He argued heatedly while I tried to defend the way my parents treated me. I was not responsible for Samantha's kidnapping, he said. I almost believed him. During the last few days I was home, I began to touch Steve more. Slaps on the back turned into wrestling in the sand. During one of our games, my lips accidentally caught his. At that point, time stopped. He stared into my flushed face, silently questioning my intent. In a sudden burst of realization and nerve, I kissed him properly. He returned it with enough passion to make my head spin. With a few words of agreement, we raced toward my house and up the stairs to my bedroom. Our scantily clad bodies were soon naked and writhing together on my bed, neither of us realizing that the door to the room was still open. Until my father's furious voice reached our ears. We broke apart to see him in the doorway with one of my baseball bats in his hands. We tried to protect ourselves, but Dad was too quick. Blows fell on my back and legs, knocking me to the floor. But his worst damage was to Steve. A strong whack to the side of the head had him face- down on my bed, unconscious. His blood was soaking my sheets. Mom called an ambulance while I was still dazed on the floor. Steve was taken to the hospital with the explanation that he hit his head on one of my bedposts. I was left in my father's 'capable' hands. Mom tried to calm him down, but to no avail. Words like 'perverted' and 'evil' reached my ears with alarming frequency for the next few hours. I spent most of that time on my bed, curled in a ball and staring at Steve's blood on my white sheets. I eventually tried to have sex with another man right after I broke up with Phoebe. My father's words echoing in my brain made it a less than pleasant experience. Although I tried, I never could ignore my attraction to people of my own sex. I often initiated sex with them, but I never topped. And although my body responded to their touches, my mind never could get past my father's glaring eyes. ----------------------------------------------- "I thought if I was in control of the situation, it would be better. I'm sorry." Despite my best efforts, tears begin to fall down my cheeks. "I haven't blamed you since it happened. I could tell something was wrong when you blanked out on me." His hand caresses my arm comfortingly. My frustration with the whole situation catches up with me. I try to wrench away from his hand, but he will have none of it. "Mulder, *Fox*, look at me!" His eyes gaze calmly at me with that look that got me into this situation. "Look, I care for you a lot and I want to try to help." As I back away from him with a sneer of self-derision on my face, his words growl at me. "Stop it. You are worthy of a caring relationship, with whomever you choose. Your father was wrong, asnd what he did to you was inexcusable." He pulled my resisting form into his arms. "I want to show you what you've been missing." "But what if. . ." "Shh. Now that I know what happened, I won't let it get that far unless I know you're with me. And I won't push you into anything you don't want or don't think you're ready for." His affectionate growl pulls tears to the surface again. My voice is quiet as I give him his reply. "Ok." With that, he pulls my head to his shoulder and rubs a soothing hand down my back. My sobs cause me to shudder and I have to grab his shoulders to stay upright. He just stands there and holds me, a rock in the rough waters of my life. Only now do I dare to hope that the storm will end. *********************************************************************************************** Chapter 6: The Path of Awareness Real trust isn't built in a day. It takes time and effort. But trying to foster trust in Fox Mulder is like waiting for an ice age to end. I learned to be patient through leadership training at Quantico. They never trained me for this. After his outburst Saturday morning, I stayed with him while he cried and cursed the entire world for the next few hours. I just listened to the sounds of some wounds reopening and others bleeding profusely. I held his hand when he let me, but the caution in his eyes stilled my more affectionate instincts. Although I wanted to, I could do nothing more for him. I couldn't make the past all right. So I waited for him to come back to the present. When he finally exhausted himself, we talked. We discussed the events that had gotten us to this point and where we wanted to go from here. As I expected, Mulder's paranoia was in full gear. He didn't want to be seen in public with me unless on a case. I already risked too much for Scully and him, he said. I talked him down to a compromise: We wouldn't be seen in public around DC. I had a few vacation spots in mind to take him later. I wasn't about to allow Bureau policy and prejudice keep me from showing him my world. We decided that, for now, we would just take it easy and get to know each other. So in the last week, we spent time in each other's apartment after work, watching sports and bad movies, and talking. We talked incessantly about whatever came to mind. X-files, likes and dislikes, and even some of Mulder's past became topics of hours-long conversations. But when I mentioned Scully, he diverted to another subject. He said he wasn't ready to figure out how to tell her about us yet. I gave him my sympathy, but cautioned him. She's too smart and too close to him to not discover this situation sooner or later. It's better if one of us discusses it with her, rather than her finding out on her own. Although we strove whole-heartedly for mental closeness, in the whole week, he only touched me four times. He grasped my hands twice during a difficult discussion about Samantha. His hand lay on my face as I told him of my experience in Vietnam. I counted each touch as one step down a very rocky path towards me. I didn't reach out to him, except with my voice. My voice that tries to soothe and caress his frayed nerves and painful wounds. The hug that I received last night after he woke from a nightmare gave me hope that were are getting somewhere, that he's starting to trust me and himself a little more. So I sit here sitting about all this in my armchair as the setting sun ushers in another Friday night. A book about child abuse lays on my lap as I gaze out the window. Mulder told me yesterday that he needs some time to think, so I decided to do some research to get a more informed opinion on how to help him. My head whirls with ideas as I get up to make myself some dinner a few hours later. I'm so distracted as I dump the pasta into the pot that I almost don't hear the doorbell. When it finally registers, I turn down the heat on the stove and walk to the door. As I look through the peephole, Mulder's agitated figure greets my sight. I can see him tugging on the bottom of his leather jacket as he waits for the door to open. As I open the door, a self-derisive grimace twists itself over his face. "I'm sorry to bug you-- ." I choose to ignore the attitude. "Come in. I'm just making dinner. Are you hungry?" I must've caught him off-guard because he looks at me blankly for a minute. Then my acceptance sinks in. "Yeah, thanks." He helps me finish making the simple meal. He is silent as we sit down at my small kitchen table with our food. So I venture carefully to find out what's on his mind. "Did you have enough time to think today? I didn't expect to see you until at least tomorrow." "Yes. No." He leans back in his chair and runs his hand through his hair. I--I want to find a way to get over my damned problem." He doesn't need to tell me what problem. I grab his hand and hold it tight until his features calm and I know he won't bolt. "Don't rush it, Mulder. You've had to deal with your memories for a long time. Nothing's going to change overnight." "But what about you---?" For a fraction of a second I see red. "Do you really think I'd do anything that might hurt you, just to get my rocks off?" My expression must be pretty severe because he immediately lowers his eyes to the table. "I don't know. I just don't want. . ." Those books were good for something. The words 'you to leave me' echo through my mind. The scared look on his face confirms my guess. I try to ease his mind. "Look, I'm not going anywhere. I can wait until you're ready." The small smile was a relief to me. But his eyes were still troubled. "What is it? You're not telling me everything here." "I, uh, that is, I can't--" "Tell me." I try to hold his gaze, to reassure him. "I haven't been able to. . .My video collection. . ." I smile. I know about that collection. I've come across pieces of it over the years. "Need a little relief?" "Yeah." "Ok." I get up from the table and move to stand in front of him. "I can give you a few of my things or---" He looks up at me. Suddenly, my body grows warm. His eyes reach out to me, hold me. "No. You." Those two words contain all the trust Fox Mulder can muster. It shines through those hazel depths. I'm not sure either of us are ready for this, but I dare not let him down. ------------------------------------------------ After a minute, I grab Mulder's hand and pull him up from the chair. We walk together to the livingroom, to the sofa. I guide him to lay down on it as I've seen him on his own, when he sleeps. My glasses are placed on the coffee table behind me. I kneel on the floor next to his head and gaze down at him, trying to convey the love I cannot speak of yet. His look reminds me of one that I've seen small children give their parents. This is what trust looks like before we try to define it, put constraints on it. It makes me want to hide him from all the evil that's been thrown at us both. Instead, I focus on the body before me. I run my fingertips lightly down his arms. He shivers as I take his hands and bring them to my lips. "Let me do this. You just lie there, ok?" "But--" I bring one finger to his lips. "Shh. I want you to feel it, feel *me*." I hold his gaze as my hands drift slowly under his t-shirt. I silently watch in amazement as his face reflects his pleasure when I smooth my fingers up his chest and over his nipples. I move my hands back down and pull the hem of the shirt toward his head. He lifts himself from the couch slightly to help me pull it off him. I listen intently to his gasps as my lips replace my hands. I smooth open kisses over his collarbones, over his well-developed pectoral muscles. When my tongue touches a small nub, I feel him push up toward me. His hand reaches to wrap around my head, holding me there. I oblige him, hardening the nipple with my lips and tongue until he's had his fill and his grip loosens. As I move my head toward his abdomen, his body shifts, tightens. A warning bell goes off in my head and I look up toward his face. I'm starting to lose him. After a second of shock, I quickly move my hands to his head, to direct his gaze to mine. I call him back quietly. "Mulder. Hey, I'm here. It's just us. Shhh." I keep my voice slow and quiet, drawing him carefully from the depths of his mind. When I'm satisfied I have him back, I let my hands rest on his abdomen, just sharing my warmth. I watch his expression shift to one of dismay as he realizes what just happened. "Hey, it's ok. Can you tell me what happened? Did I do something wrong?" His teeth worry his lip and he shifts his eyes toward the back of the couch. "No, it's me--" "Don't blame yourself for your father's crimes. He caused this, not you." I sigh. "We don't have to do this. I can let you. . ." "No! I want you to do this. Just. . .Just keep watching me, ok?" I am puzzled, then suddenly realize what he means. He must have been focusing on my eyes to keep himself grounded. He slowly drifted back into the past when I drew my gaze from his. "If you're sure?" He nods his head slightly. At that, my hands resume their quest to soothe and arouse. This time his vocalizations are louder and sound more intense. His hands cover mine to guide them to sensitive spots on his abdomen. His eyes close momentarily as a gasp wrenches through him, but a second later his hazel depths swallow me up again. My body hardens at the fire in his eyes. The small, still-coherent part of my mind rejoices. My hand is finally guided to his erection. I run my fingers over its covered hardness then, careful not to look away from him, I slowly unfasten and slide down the barriers to my caresses. We both moan as I wrap my hand around his cock's hot length. Pleasure makes his eyes widen as I smooth my finger over the sensitive parts of the tip, the underside. But he is already too far gone for that to suffice. "Walter, please!" I give him what he wants. My hand tightens around him, pulling slightly as I start a rhythm. His groans inflame me, urging me on. As I increase the speed of my hand, his voice sparks through my body and my heart. "So good. . .Oh God! Walter!" His eyes go wild and finally unlock from mine as his body arches and semen splashes on my hand and his stomach. I smile at him, my body still aroused but my mind calm. His returning smile is a thousand watts, gleeful. "I never knew I could. . .Thank you." "The pleasure was mine." A mischievous glint appears in his eyes suddenly. "No, but it will be." Then, before I could protest or question him, Mulder wraps a hand around the back of my head and pulls me down. God, his lips are so sweet. His mouth plunders mine, searching, finding his passion returned tenfold. I come up, gasping for air, then fall back for more. Control is slipping away, I'm drowning in fire. Oh God, his hand! What is he-- After cupping my cock through my jeans, he undoes the buttons and slides them and my underwear down. I try to utter a protest, to tell him I don't need this, but his mouth swallows the words before they can be spoken. He pulls back from my lips as his hand begins to echo the movements of mine earlier. "It's ok, Walter. Let me show you the gift you gave me." The singing in my soul helps him wipe away the shreds of my control. "Mull-der!" Ahh, his mouth! What is he doing?! My eyes can barely focus on his dark hair as he swallows my length slowly. His tongue reaches for and finds every spot that makes me groans, gasp, ans wail. God, I can't-- The murmurs of pleasure coming from the mouth covering my cock are the last straw. Stars shoot behind my eyelids as I'm caught on a livewire, jerking as the sweet jolts fly though me and my seed is spilled into his waiting mouth. I catch myself before my weight falls onto him, and look to see him, amazed, pleased with himself. I laugh softly, a low rumble in my throat. I move my lips to his to taste our flavor, then fold my body against the couch and rest my head on his chest. I smile as I hear his whispered "Thank you." No, thank you, Mulder. Your trust has made me complete. ********************************************************************************************** Chapter 7: Belief in the Self When I look back on that day, I have to hide from people. My body still reacts with arousal and my face takes on this look of wonder. I know, I was shaving and looking in the mirror once when it happened. It happened a week ago. I had sex with Walter Skinner and didn't feel the pain from memories, from my father's strong disapproval. Wow. Since that Friday night, we've spent every night together. He listens to my frustrations with Kersch with empathy. I don't think he likes the man much. He growls when I tell him what Scully has heard Kersch call me. I don't bother with the man. I think making friends with him is pointless. He has been acting like the spy I thought Scully was, so long ago. Walter also shows me what I was missing when I was so caught up in my past. His simplest touch can blow my mind because of the passion behind it. When I came to his apartment on Tuesday night, I barely had the door closed before he kissed me, just a light peck on the lips. I as so overcome by the feeling behind that small caress that I had to back him against the wall by the door and show my appreciation. I'm going to have to dryclean my coat. I dont want Scully seeing the semen stains. I've gotten my reactions a little more under control since then, but it still amazes me that the man truly cares for me. What did I do to deserve this? I thought Scully was a gift. Walter is the grand prize in a almost-hopeless sweepstakes. I'm almost afraid to blink, he might disappear. But I've survived this week and actually enjoyed it. Walter chased away my fears with a touch of his hand and a growl that I came to recognize as Tell-me-now-and-get-it-over-with. He listened to my fears and we discussed solutions. My fears don't get time to begin eating away at me now. And the physical side of us? It just keeps getting better, even though we don't do anything more complex than we did that first night. And Walter insists that I be able to see his eyes if I need to. I've had to pull his face up from my nether regions a couple times. He never protests or even questions me during these times. He just holds my gaze and waits until the pain leaves before asking me if I want to continue. I haven't refused yet, and I don't think I ever will. So why am I shaking now, sitting on the waterbed that mysteriously got planted in my bedroom a couple weeks ago? Because I'm planning to give him what up until now I couldn't: My complete trust. I'm going to trust him to keep me grounded while using my body for his pleasure. No, that's not right. To give us both pleasure. If that's possible. I hope it is, I don't want Walter disappointed in me. Damn. I have to stop drowning in my own psyche. Usually Scully helps me sort this type of thing out. But my paranoia has extended toward her of late. After I sort this out with Walter, I have to repair the damage to my partnership. It's hard maintaining one relationship while growing another. Time to stop thinking and start doing. I get up and put new sheets on the bed. Since we decided to meet at my apartment today, it's my turn to get the food. I grab the phone and order from the Chinese place not far from here. My apartment has been cleaner than it has been in awhile, due to my mysterious redecorator and Walter's obsession with putting everything in it's proper place. So picking up the few stray things takes only a few minutes. Now all I can do is pull out the file Kersch wants completed by Monday and wait for the food and my lover. ----------------------------------------------------------- Seven o'clock on the dot. I hear the knock on my door. The food just arrived fifteen minutes earlier. I finish putting the file away and go to let him in. He smiles at me as I notice the bag in his hand. "Good beer. Not the stuff you get for $1.50 for a six-pack." I smile in appreciation as I let him in. Walter spots the containers of food on the coffee table and sniffs the air. "You ordered from the Garden, didn't you? Wonderful." He never complains about my perchance for take-out. He just makes his preferences of restaurants known to me. We sit down and begin pulling open the containers. As we do, he lets me in on his plans to try to upset our current positions in the Bureau. "Spender and Fowley have deliberately ignored cases. Not only the cases you would have jumped at because they involve crop circles. They've also ignored the murders and kidnappings that have been passed down to them." I think my nervousness has impaired my brain. I can't see what he's getting at here. "So?" "So, they are neglecting some important cases, some that may not be X-files, but VCS cases that need more imaginative thinking than VCS can produce. Kersch has stopped me from getting them to you directly, so I'm going to file a reprimand on those two and see if I can pull you back to the basement. That ok with you?" "Yeah, but do you think it'll be enough?" "Probably not, but it's a start. Be patient." "What about Krycek?" Walter finally confessed to the identity of the man who gave him SR 819. I was furious when I found out that he was trying to deal with the rat by himself, but he assured me he'd tell me when he sees the turncoat again. "This might be exactly what he wants. I don't know why, but . . ." He trails off, and just shrugs his shoulders. I let it go. Normally, I'd want all his ideas about Krycek's intent, but tonight my mind is elsewhere. He notices my distraction after a few minutes. "What's on your mind, Mulder? I don't usually get off that easy." "Umm. . . It's nothing." Damn, I get to this point and I don't know what to say. "I uh, just wanted to ask you about trying something." "Ok, so ask and stop looking as if I'm holding a gun to your head. Nothing you can ask is going to make leave here out of anger." I thought Scully was the only mindreader in my life. I sigh, trying to get my nerve up. "I want you to fuck me tonight." I don't like the way I sound, like a meek child, but at least I said it. "Are you sure you're ready for that? I don't want to hurt you. Physically or *emotionally*." "But I know you want to. I don't want to hold out on you." Wrong thing to say. His face turns red but his voice remains calm, as always. "Look, I don't think you're holding out on me. I think you've been hurt and need to heal. Healing takes *time*." Patience has never been my strong suit. "I've had it up to here with waiting! I want to get over this *now*, before it starts impairing what we have!" My voice echoes through the apartment as it did when I found out about Krycek. Only now I realize how angry I am at myself for letting my memories get the best of me. "Calm down. I'm not going anywhere. We have to talk about this first, before *we* decide if this is worth the risk. Tell me about your other times, after Steven. Maybe we can figure out what not to do, at least." He leans back towards one side of the couch, his large back wedged between the arm and the back. I put my empty container down and lean back against him. "They weren't, uh, as personally involved as you are. Denis, a guy I met in England after I broke up with Phoebe, was the first. I met him at a bar right outside of the campus. We exchanged names, and he took me back to his place. We got right down to business, not much foreplay. He had me on my hands and knees within five minutes. I don't think he even noticed that I was soft the whole time." "Was this the first time you had trouble being aroused? What about Phoebe?" I wish he'd stop the mindreading. It's disconcerting. "I had trouble at he end of our relationship. I put that down to having my eyes opened about how much a bitch she is." "Did you have trouble with other women?" "No, except maybe for Diana, if you consider a mutual stopping of sex as trouble." "Ok. So tell me what you think about when you 'blank out'." I actually appreciate that he's getting almost clinical-sounding in his questions. It makes removing myself from the pain easier. "My father's voice, mostly. He ranted for hours after they sent Steven to the hospital. And I remember how much his voice hurt, not just because of what he was saying. He was telling me I was a no-good cocksucking freak, but that wasn't what I remember the most. I hit my head pretty hard, probably when i fell off the bed. I don't remember exactly. His voice pounded through my brain in more ways than one that night." I look up at Walter's face, trying to gauge his thoughts. His returning look is gentle but not all there. I start to get up from the sofa. "If you don't want to do this. . ." That brings him back to me, instantly. He pulls me back down. "Knock it off. Give me a second to absorb this, then we can decide what to do." Now that I'm paying better attention to him, I can almost see the gears in his mind turning. I guess not all my snap judgements are accurate. After a few minutes, his arms tighten around me. "Do you believe what your father said to you?" All of a sudden, I'm speechless. Do I? Is part of my mind telling me I'm such a fuck-up that I'm worth the pleasure I seek? I sit up straight on the couch, thinking. Skinner moves to sit next to me, quietly watching me wring my hands. He speaks after a few minutes. "I don't know what all your other 'lovers' thought, but when I look at you, I see a brilliant man, with the perseverence and stamina to take on some of the most powerful people in the world and win. Who you sleep with does nothing to alter my opinion." A weight suddenly drops off my shoulders so hard I can almost hear the impact with the ground. I look toward Walter in amazement. "How could I believe his shit? How the hell?" "You were a kid. Even at seventeen, it's hard not to want your parents' approval. But they were wrong, in what they said and what they believed. Scully probably could tell you even more clearly than I can how wrong they were. Give yourself the credit that's your due. And accept the love we are giving you. You are more than worth it." He is giving me what? I know Scully loves me, but Walter? "Yes I love you, you dolt. Now, I think we can do what you asked, if you still want to." He gets up and holds out his hand. I accept it without hesitating and let him pull me up. We go into the bedroom with our hands linked, his warmth channeling through his hand and spreading throughout my body. ------------------------------------------------- When we get inside the rom, Walter suddenly pushes me on the bed, smiling goofily down at me. He tickles my sides and the laughter bubbles up. God, that feels almost as good as our lovemaking this week. I pull him down onto me for a kiss. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Sex is serious business, you know." But there is laughter in my voice. For the first time with him, I'm not scared. And that realization is making me higher than a kite. And he knows it. "I'm with the brilliant rule-breaker of the FBI. So I'm breaking the rules." His kisses on my neck make me squirm, so I return the favor by reaching under his turtleneck to squeeze his nipples lightly. His low growl is my reward. A wrestling match ensues as we each try to get the clothes off each other, laughing at each tangle we get into until we are both naked. Then, the temperature climbs twenty degrees as his eyes flash with the love and passion he is so generous with when I'm around. His kiss draws my body to his like a magnet, our erections brushing together. Waves of pleasure blend together as our hands seek and caress all the spots we know produce moans and heat. "More, Walter. I want more." I whisper in his ear. My newly-found confidence has made me demanding. But Walter just smiles and moves down my chest. His warm mouth takes my cock in, all at once. I see stars. But I force myself to hold off. I don't want to come just yet. "Walter!" "Yes?" "Fuck me already!" He laughs, delighted at my words. I can see his approval on his face. "Ok, stay there for a second." He gets up and grabs the bottle of lubricant I put on the night table earlier. When he comes back to the bed, he motions for me to spread my legs and kneels between them. His eyes swallow my gaze as he puts lubricant on his fingers and enters me for the first time with one finger. God! He hits my prostate on the first try. My eyes close. I'm too overwhelmed with the pleasure to be able to handle anything else. My body rocks as he pushes a second finger in and starts moving them inside me. "Mulder." His soft voice calls me from the haze. I force my eyes open to see his body over mine, his hand still moving inside me. "Ready?" "Yesss." The word comes out as a hiss, as he hits my prostate again. I groan softly as he removes his hand and grabs the bottle of lubricant again. Once his cock is coated with the stuff, he positions himself. Our eyes lock together as he enters me slowly. Jesus, this was what I was missing! Our groans echo in unison as the pleasure hits me. I grab his arms and wrap my legs around his back to pull him deeper. He takes that as a cue and pulls out of me slightly, then pushes back in as far as he can. My moans become a constant counter- point to his rhythm, growing louder as he moves faster. The pleasure builds until I hear an "I love you" whispered under his breath. That sends me tumbling over the edge into oblivion, without him ever touching my cock. His groan of completion comes seconds later and he falls against me. I kiss the top of his head, thankful to him for this gift, of himself, so freely given. I feel him pull me tighter against his body as he moves to my side. "Ok?" "More than ok. Thanks." "Thanks for what?" "For giving me my spirit back." He growls affectionately as I rest my head on his shoulder. We fall asleep locked together, protecting each other from the rest of the world. ------------------------------------------------------- Here ends Karma: Conviction