Great title picture by CDavis

I've created a 24/7 Fan Page as a memento of all the great things that have been sent to me during the writing of this series. 

Spoilers: Vague references to Requiem. 

Observant readers will have noticed slight, teeny tiny differences between the 24/7 universe and the canon X Files universe - like Skinner not having been infected by nanocytes, and Scully not being pregnant, oh and Mulder and Skinner being in a Master/slave relationship - that kind of tiny, inconsequential little thing. I'm operating on a 'divergent universe' theory, whereby similar events happen in the characters' lives, but they might take place at a different time or be slightly altered in some way. Hence in this universe the event in Oregon from Requiem takes place in November and not May. Therefore people need not email and tell me this because I do actually know.

Quotation courtesy of my sweet Alex. Standing thanks to Emma. 

Many heartfelt thanks to Phoebe for giving her time so generously to help with this mammoth chapter.

24/7 is an erotic fantasy and NOT a BDSM resource guide. The truth is sometimes exaggerated, or played with, for dramatic effect. For more information, please visit the 24/7 BDSM Glossary.

Remember those juggernauts I mentioned? A couple of them show up in this chapter... There's also something that is possibly a little controversial in this chapter, involving a decision that Skinner makes. I ummed and ahhed about it, but decided to go for it in the end - don't yell at me for it! Just a reminder: Alex Krycek is *bad* in this universe. He's pretty damn bad in canon as well, but I know we tend to forget that in fanfic as he's so cute. Just a warning that he's bad here though as I don't want complaining emails on that topic. 

 Part 24: Guardian Of The House 

Mulder was humming softly to himself as he paused outside the 17^th floor apartment and reached into his pocket for his key. It still gave him a thrill to use the key his Master had given him on his birthday a couple of weeks previously. It was surprising that something as simple as a key could mean so much but it made all the difference to be entering this apartment through the front door, truly belonging here, rather than descending to it via the internal staircase.  He opened the door, hating the fact that he was returning to an empty apartment. His Master was away attending a high level briefing in Los Angeles and wouldn’t be home for another few days. Mulder had coped well with Skinner’s absence – much better than the last time, he thought wryly to himself as he let himself into the apartment. He could scarcely believe the change in himself. A few months ago, when Skinner had last gone away, Mulder had spun out into orbit, but now he felt curiously grounded. The apartment felt empty without his Master, but Mulder was pretty sure that Skinner would make up for his absence upon his return. In the meantime he had Wanda to keep him company. He was surprised by how fond he had become of the little cat. He had been taking care of Wanda while Skinner was away, seeing to it that she was fed and watered, and he never retired to bed, which seemed so empty in his Master’s absence, without taking her with him, wrapped up in his arms, something to hold until his Master returned home. Not that he’d ever tell Skinner that of course – it was a secret between him and Wanda. He didn’t want his Master thinking he’d gone soft, or that he and Wanda had declared a truce or anything. 

Mulder glanced around, frowning. Wanda always ran to greet him on his return home – she loved to come and say hello, and receive her customary petting. If he was leafing through his mail and ignored her for too long she’d miaow accusingly and rub her face around his ankles. If he persisted in his impolite behavior she’d stand on her hind legs and dig her claws into his shins until he picked her up and gave her a cuddle. After that she was fine and would wander off happily do Cat Things. She clearly needed the correct proprieties to be observed, and a formal greeting ritual to be performed. Mulder chuckled as he considered how well she had him trained – which made it all the more surprising that she wasn’t here engaging in her usual welcoming procedure.  A sudden panic gripped him, as his overactive imagination presented him with a picture of her lying dead somewhere, slain by some negligence of his - a sink full of water in which she’d drowned, or a knife left out carelessly upon which she had somehow impaled herself - but he quickly shrugged this off as being ridiculous. Only Skinner himself could have taken better care of the little cat.

“Wanda!”

Mulder threw his keys absently onto the hall table, feeling that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. The hair on the back of his neck stood up on end as he walked cautiously towards the living room, drawing his gun as he went. He wasn’t sure why he felt that was necessary, just that he did. Some instinct was warning him, and he had learned over the years not to ignore his instincts.

“Wanda,” he said again, softly…and then he froze.

Wanda was sitting on the couch, purring happily…and she wasn’t alone.

“Krycek.”

Mulder stood in the doorway, eyeing the assassin, and then nervously glanced at the cat who was sitting happily on his enemy’s lap, being petted and fondled. She took no notice of Mulder, being far too busy rubbing her chin enthusiastically against Krycek’s gently caressing, oh so dangerous hand: a hand that to Mulder's certain knowledge had killed and beaten with impunity; a hand that would surely take less than a second to crush a cat’s windpipe.

“Put the gun down, Mulder. You aren't going to shoot me. Not with the cat so close. Skinner would never forgive you if anything happened to her.” Krycek’s hand effortlessly circled Wanda’s neck and Mulder stiffened but Wanda just purred, seemingly oblivious to any danger, her eyes opening and closing sleepily, only the pricking of her ears indicating that she had sensed the sudden tension in the room.

“Put her down, Krycek,” Mulder said, still holding the gun pointed at his enemy’s head.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Krycek rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to kill her – she’s adorable. I’m just here to talk. Put the gun away.”

“We have nothing to talk about. How the hell did you get in here anyway?” Mulder glanced at Skinner’s state-of-the-art security system, which was winking away merrily, oblivious to its own shortcomings.

“It wasn’t exactly hard.” Krycek shrugged. “Sit down, Mulder. You’re making me jumpy.”

“Krycek, last time we met you lured me into a trap that ended up with me in the hospital. I'm the one who should be jumpy, not you,” Mulder growled.

“That was payback for all the punches you’ve landed on me over the years.” Krycek smiled sweetly. “Now that I feel suitably avenged, I’m happy to let bygones be bygones.”

“It might surprise you to find that I am not,” Mulder snapped.

“Aw, you’re not still smarting over my handiwork with the knife?” Krycek raised an eyebrow, a grin hovering on his lips. “And there was I thinking that kind of thing was just part and parcel of your lifestyle of choice, slaveboy.”

“Why are you here?” Mulder refused to rise to the bait. He felt a sense of deadly calm settle into the pit of his stomach. This bastard couldn’t touch him any more. Whatever power Krycek had once held over him was gone because he wasn’t going to give him that power any more.

“To offer you information. That’s all. There’s no need for confrontation, or violence.” Krycek tickled Wanda under the chin and she gave a trilling purr. Mulder shot her a murderous glance.

“Traitor,” he muttered under his breath.

“Don’t be like that.” Krycek grinned. “She likes me. I have a calm aura.” That much was true. Krycek held himself very still, with a deadly kind of detached tranquility that suited his profession. “I bet she doesn’t like sitting on your lap,” Krycek goaded. “Too fidgety.”

Mulder furled his hand into a fist. Krycek was always able to make his most violent instincts rise to the surface. He seemed to know exactly the right buttons to press to make Mulder itch to plant his fist in that smugly grinning face. What, after all, did it matter that Krycek was right? That Wanda invariably preferred sitting with Skinner rather than him, because Skinner had a gentle, relaxed core to his soul, and could sit still for more than a few minutes without feeling the urge to stretch, twitch, rustle or otherwise behave in the restless manner of his slave. Only when Mulder was in deep submission, experiencing the total serenity of subspace, would Wanda deign to sit anywhere near him. It was absurd – it didn’t matter that Wanda found Krycek’s a more congenial lap than his, but somehow it made him boil with anger.

“Just say what you have to say and then go, Krycek,” Mulder muttered grimly.

“All right.” Krycek smiled, and allowed Wanda to sniff his plastic hand and nibble on the end of one of his artificial fingers. “I’m not here to fight, Mulder. I’m here with information.”

“You always offer information, Krycek. Most of the time it isn’t any use,” Mulder snarled.

“Not true.” Krycek looked wounded. “Sometimes I’ve risked my life bringing you information that’s been very useful to you, Mulder.”

Mulder chewed on his lip. That had a nugget of truth to it. Krycek’s motives might be hard to fathom but he had occasionally done Mulder favors… which did not negate the fact that his information was just as frequently flawed, and had often landed Mulder in deep trouble.

“Just tell me,” Mulder snapped. He leaned back against the wall, prepared not to be interested in anything Krycek had to say…only to be completely stunned by what came next.

“There’s a spaceship in close contact orbit around Earth. It’s massive – a total motherfucking beauty. Get there and you could become the first person to provide documented proof of extra-terrestrial life.”

Mulder gave a bark of laughter, shaking his head incredulously. “First Samantha, now a giant UFO – you know my buttons and you sure as hell know how to press them. I’m not buying this, Krycek.”

“I’m not lying. Call your geeky friends – radars are going crazy and the UFO watchers are out in force, chasing across the country to get there. They’ll confirm everything I’ve said.”

Mulder clenched and unclenched his fist, still holding his gun in his other hand, loosely pointed at Krycek. Finally he snapped, and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his cell phone.

“If this is a lie…” he began.

“It isn’t.” Krycek’s tone was flat, and deadly serious. Mulder speed-dialed the Lone Gunmen with one hand.

“All right…where is this spaceship?” Mulder asked his uninvited guest as he waited for the Gunmen to pick up.

“It’s in Oregon.” Krycek leaned back into the soft cushions of the couch, and smiled.

Mulder froze. He wasn’t sure why, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, and a cold shiver was creeping slowly up his spine.

“Oregon?” He repeated blankly, surprised by his physical reaction to this information.

“That’s right.” Krycek nodded.

“Gunmen.” Langley’s voice.

“Langley it’s me. Turn the tape off,” Mulder replied.

“Yo – Mulder. We were going to call you but it’s so crazy here right now we didn’t have enough hands.”

“What’s going on?”

“Something big.” Langley’s voice sounded distant and then came back into focus. “Oh Jesus, Mulder. You wouldn’t believe what I’m looking at right now.”

“Radar of the skies over Oregon?” Mulder hazarded a guess, glancing at Krycek.

“You’ve heard already!” Langley sounded crestfallen. “Well, dude, you’d better get yourself over there – it’s all happening. This one is like the mothership or something. It’s massive, and it’s on a mission, crawling over the state on a go-slow like it’s looking for something. There have to be sightings of this one – maybe film. This could be it, Mulder. The big one.”

“Thanks, Langley.” Mulder turned his phone off and looked at Krycek again. “So you’re right. What worries me is why you want me to know about this ship. Why do you want me in Oregon, Krycek?”

“Maybe the time has come to make the world aware of what’s up there.” Krycek stroked Wanda’s head thoughtfully and her purring went up a decibel. “And you’d be the perfect person to do it. You’re credible, Mulder. However weird you are, you’re also an FBI agent. You’re a suit. A fibbie. A G-man. People will believe you. You’re not crackpot trailer trash out looking to make a quick buck. You’re the best we’ve got if we’re going to be believed.”

“Well you can find someone else. I’m not going.” Mulder held the door wide open and gestured towards it. “Get out of here, Krycek.”

“Not going?” Krycek raised an eyebrow. “Hell, what did Skinner do to you, Mulder? The Mulder I used to know would be on a plane right now. What’s the matter – do you need your Master’s permission to leave town, slave boy?”

“As a matter of fact I do – but that’s not why I’m not going. I’m not going because I know you, Krycek. Whatever this is it won’t be what I think it is. I’m not taking any more risks for you. Go and tell your masters that, errand boy.”

Krycek’s face darkened slightly, and Mulder felt a wave of grim satisfaction that his barb had hit home. He raised his gun cautiously as Krycek slowly and carefully picked up Wanda and deposited her on the floor. Then the assassin got up himself and stretched, his own movements almost as feline as those of the cat. Finally, he sauntered slowly towards the door, where Mulder was standing.

“It won’t be there forever, Mulder,” he hissed as he passed. “Get down to Oregon tonight – or you could miss out on what you’ve been looking for all your life.”

“Thanks for your concern.” Mulder smiled unpleasantly. He escorted Krycek to the front door, ushered him through it, then shut it again afterwards and locked it – a gesture that he knew to be pointless considering how easily Krycek had gotten into the apartment in the first place. That done, he sank to the floor, his knees feeling like jelly. Seeing Krycek had brought back too many memories, and he fingered the fading scar on his chest absently, his throat constricting as he recalled the hours spent as his old enemy’s captive, imprisoned in a warehouse waiting to die, the betrayal of his Master eating away at his soul just as Krycek had eaten away at his body with his knife. Finally, still trembling, he walked back to the living room, and collapsed on the couch, his body nerveless, bereft of energy. He sat there for a long time, staring out onto the balcony. Wanda leapt onto the couch and sniffed him curiously, puzzled by his lack of activity. 

It was a UFO, very probably an alien vessel, something he had been looking for all his life, and it was out there, waiting for him. There would be answers to all the questions he had ever asked, and probably a few more besides. It could be the culmination of his life’s work…or it could be a trap. It would be so easy to just pick up his cell phone and call the airlines, to get a taxi to the airport…he could be in Oregon within hours.  

Mulder reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. His fingers pressed the buttons, seemingly not of their own volition. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t even sure that he was thinking straight. A reassuring voice on the other end of the line broke through his trance, jolting him back to reality.

“Skinner.”

Mulder started to breathe again. “Master, it’s me,” he whispered.

“Fox – what’s up?” Skinner seemed to know immediately that something was wrong by Mulder’s tone of voice.

“Krycek was just here.” Mulder felt the blood start to roar through his veins again, and the world came back into focus. His Master was an anchor on the other end of the line, keeping him safe, keeping him grounded, not allowing him to spin off into orbit along with whatever it was that was hovering over Oregon right now. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then the sound of Skinner taking a sharp intake of breath.

“Are you okay?” Skinner’s voice was full of anxiety and Mulder gave a little smile. Skinner’s first thought was for his slave’s safety.

“I’m fine. He didn’t do anything. He was sitting in the apartment when I got ho…”

“He was in the apartment?”

Mulder winced. Skinner sounded as if he was having an apoplectic fit. “Yes. He broke in.”

“Is Wanda okay?” Skinner asked anxiously.

“She’s fine. She actually seemed to like him.” Mulder scowled at the cat who gazed at him steadily, without any trace of remorse.

“Damn the rat bastard. I thought I made myself clear last time we ‘spoke’,” Skinner snapped. “What did he want?”

Mulder filled his Master in as quickly as he could. When he finished there was silence.

“Master?” He prompted.

“I’m still here. Tell me where you are right now, Fox. Be honest,” Skinner said softly.

“I’m in the apartment. Krycek only left a few minutes ago.”

“Fox, don’t take this the wrong way but I really need to know. You’re not lying to me are you? You’re not on your way to the airport?” Skinner asked.

Mulder winced but he knew that he had earned that inquiry. “No, Master. I’m still here,” he said quietly.

“And will you stay there?” Skinner wanted to know.

“I…don’t know,” Mulder replied honestly. “This is everything I’ve ever wanted, Walter.”

“I know, Fox, I know.” Skinner’s voice was husky with repressed emotion.

“It’s evidence of extra terrestrials. It could be answers about Samantha. It could be proof.”

“And it could be a trap,” Skinner said flatly.

“I know that.” Mulder chewed on his lip. “Are you ordering me not to go, Master?” He asked. There was another silence on the other end of the line, followed by a heavy sigh.

“No. No I’m not,” Skinner replied. “I couldn’t do that to you, Fox. You’d resent me for it for the rest of your life if I did. No, this is your decision. I’m asking you not to go but I’m not ordering you.”

“Thank you, Walter,” Mulder said quietly.

“Damn…if I could get back home I would, but I have a top level meeting tomorrow on a highly sensitive national security issue. I can’t…”

“You don’t need to. I don’t need babysitting. I’ll figure this one out,” Mulder interrupted him.

“Fox – do what you have to do but listen to me,” Skinner said urgently. “I want you to promise me that you’ll keep me informed - even if you decide to go. Even if, when you’re there, you make decisions that you know I’ll disapprove of – just keep me in the loop. Let me know where you’ll be staying and take Scully or some other kind of back-up with you. Don’t do this alone. That much is an order, both as your Master and your boss.”

“Yes, sir.” Mulder gave a wry grin.

“I mean it, Fox,” Skinner said, his tone in deadly earnest.

“I know you do, Master and I promise that I’ll do what you say.”

“Good. I have to go. I’m due in another meeting in five minutes.” Skinner hesitated, clearly unwilling to end the call.

“It’ll be okay,” Mulder said reassuringly, still chewing on his bottom lip. “You go, Master. I’ll be fine.”

“All right. I’ll be home in a few days, Fox. If you go to Oregon…if you’re still there…I’ll come straight to wherever you are as soon as I’m free.”

“Thanks.” Mulder felt the weight lift a little from his shoulders. It was good to share the problem, and to know that Skinner cared. He had never had that in his life before. Ever since he was 12 years old he had been used to shouldering burdens alone, from his sister’s abduction to his mother’s ill health. He had been the one who took care of everything and nobody had ever taken any of that strain from him before. He had never realized how good that would feel. “Take care, Master,” he said softly. “I, uh, you know…love you.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he said that. He still found it hard admitting to such an emotion at any time outside the heat of sex or his own intoxicating submission, but the evidence was so incontrovertible that there didn’t seem to be any point in fudging the issue.

“I love you too. Go carefully, Fox,” Skinner warned, “and remember what I said about keeping me informed. Call me anytime, day or night, just let me know what’s going on.”

“I will.” Mulder ended the call and sat back on the couch with a sigh. If he only knew what was going on himself, he’d happily keep his Master informed.  

Mulder sat staring into space for a long time, trying to come to a decision. Finally the grumbling of his stomach forced him to make a foray to the freezer to dig out a pizza. When he’d finished eating he glanced at his cell phone again. Should he call the airlines? Or the Gunmen? If he asked them for an update he knew that he’d crack and head straight for Oregon and he didn’t want that. He felt like a dog with his damn Pavlovian response to every piece of bait Krycek dangled in front of him. It had always been his weakness. One sniff of an answer to the burning questions that had consumed his life and he went, like an obedient puppy, tail wagging, and it nearly always ended in disaster of one kind or another. He had to move on. He had to transcend it. And yet…Oregon beckoned. 

Mulder had never been more aware of his own weaknesses than during this long, dark night of the soul. Hour after hour passed. Night fell, and the sounds of traffic far below faded into the usual night-time lull. He lay on the couch, the restless churning of his mind at odds with the listlessness of his body. His jacket was discarded on the chair, and his shoes were kicked under the coffee table. His tie was abandoned on the floor, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. When Skinner had first gone away he had reveled in being clothed in the apartment. Usually he was naked, on display, and while he found that a turn on it made a change to be wearing clothes for once, as if it were some kind of exotic, forbidden luxury. Who would have thought that something as simple as wearing clothes could feel so illicit? He longed for the uncomplicated reassurance of his role as Skinner’s slave and yet even as he thought that he knew he couldn’t hide behind that role. Skinner had never allowed him to use his slavery as an escape from his problems – instead he had made it a tool by which Mulder faced up to them. Being naked, kneeling at his Master’s feet, would certainly be a distraction right now but it wouldn’t solve anything. If only the answers were simple. His heart told him to go – but his soul told him to stay. His head said that logically he had nothing to fear as long as he took someone with him, and went to Oregon with backup, but some instinct he didn’t understand made him doubt that logic. Somehow he knew that it would make no difference. Even if his Master himself accompanied him to Oregon, somehow something would happen to him there...and he wasn't sure what. 

Cold fingers of uncertainty nagged at him whenever he came close to making a decision. Several times he got up, sure that he had made the decision to go, and each time he sat down again, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He even got as far as packing a small bag and bringing it back down to the living room. He sat with it between his feet, still trying to come to a decision. He wanted this. He wanted it badly. He needed to go. If he didn’t go he knew that he’d regret it forever…he’d always think of what might have been, of the answers he could finally have uncovered. 

It was nearly dawn when Mulder finally made up his mind. He stood up, and grabbed the bag. He’d go. He’d call ahead to the local PD and request back up. There was no need to involve Scully in this. If there was any danger then he didn’t want her to get hurt. Relieved to have finally made up his mind, Mulder patted Wanda’s head absently, and wrote a note to Mrs. Asher asking her to feed the cat and fish for the next couple of days. Then he got up, picked up his bag, walked to the door, grabbed his keys…and hesitated. He looked back over his shoulder at the apartment and that icy sensation swept through him again. Suddenly he knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that if he left here this evening he wouldn't come back for a very long time - if ever. The sensation was so sudden and so strong that it winded him, and he crouched, trying to get his breath back. He saw Wanda through the open living room door, lying on her side on the couch in a state of blissful feline contentment. He saw one of his Master’s paddles hanging from a hook outside the kitchen – serving both as a permanently on display reminder to his slave and a conveniently available implement for Skinner to use when his slave required immediate correction. Mulder took a sharp intake of breath. This was it. This was his home, his whole existence, and he loved it. If he walked out of the door now it would all disappear, as if it had never existed. If he went, he’d lose it forever. He wasn’t sure how, or why, he just knew that it was true. If he left now, he might find his answers, but in so doing he’d lose himself. 

Mulder gave a low, choking sob, and walked back into the living room. He threw his bag onto the floor, slumped on the couch, and buried his face in Wanda’s fur. He had just undergone a most profound moment. He had been tested, and had found the resolve to walk a different path, and by that one act he knew that he had somehow freed himself from a particular destiny, and chosen a different one instead. The strange thing was that it didn’t feel like a bad choice. It felt good. It felt right.

“You’re still here.” The voice made him stiffen.

“Go away, Krycek.” He didn’t even look around. Krycek was no longer a threat. Mulder was so sure of his decision that nothing Krycek said or did would alter that.

“Skinner must have really screwed with your mind. I thought you’d come to your senses when you had time to think about it.” Krycek sounded surprised. “Well, well. This is different.” The room was in darkness. Mulder heard Krycek walk over to him, and he tensed, uncertain whether the other man had a gun. “I’m not entirely sure how to play this one. In fact, I’m speechless,” Krycek said, his lips brushing Mulder’s ear as he leaned in close.

“You’re patently not,” Mulder commented acerbically. He could feel Krycek’s breath on the back of his neck, making his hackles rise.

“I brought you this.” Krycek threw an envelope onto the coffee table in front of them. “Plane ticket…and a couple of pictures.” He walked around the couch and perched on the side of the coffee table. “You might find the pictures particularly interesting.”

Krycek waited, but Mulder just sat, making no move to open the envelope.

“I can see that Skinner also stole your curiosity. Okay.” Krycek opened the envelope and drew out the photographs. He held one up. “Remember Billy Miles? One of your first cases with Agent Scully I believe. He’s an abductee. You suspected aliens and she…well, Agent Scully has always been more of a skeptical personality, hasn’t she?” Krycek’s teeth gleamed a vivid white in the dimly lit room – the only light being that from the hallway slanting through the open door. Mulder clenched his fists, wanting to strike but he still wasn’t sure whether Krycek had a gun – or worse, a knife. Mulder's finger went absently to his scar again. “This photograph is of Billy. He’s older now of course – it’s been a few years since you saw him after all. He disappeared last night. In Oregon.” Krycek threw the photograph onto Mulder’s lap. “His car was found abandoned on the open road. The electrics weren’t working.” Krycek paused, gazing intently at Mulder.

“It’s just a photograph.” Mulder shrugged. “It doesn’t prove anything. You could have got it anywhere.”

“The second photo might interest you more.” Krycek held it up. Mulder could just about make out a cylindrical object with flashing lights, hovering in a dark sky.

“It could be anything.” Mulder shrugged. “You know how easily those shots can be faked.”

“This one isn’t. It was taken a few hours ago. In Oregon.”

“Okay. I’m still not going.” Mulder shrugged. Wanda stretched and yawned beside him, then sat up, her yellow-green eyes sparkling in the half light.

“Why? Because of Skinner? He doesn’t own you, Mulder.” Krycek sounded genuinely angry now, as if he hadn’t anticipated meeting this kind of resistance.

“As a matter of fact he does,” Mulder chuckled. “And no, not because of him, because of me. You wouldn’t understand, Krycek.”

“I understand one thing – it’s my mark on your chest, Mulder. I’m the one who pulls your strings, whether you like it or not. You’ll go.” Krycek sat back confidently, his green eyes glowing like Wanda’s.

“No. I won’t.” Mulder shook his head wryly, refusing to rise to the bait.

“You couldn’t even come after me yourself, could you?” Krycek growled in a sneering tone, clearly annoyed by Mulder’s refusal to play the game his way. “You had to send Skinner to take revenge on me for what happened in Seattle. You had to hide behind him – just like you’re doing now.”

“That’s crap and you know it,” Mulder bristled. “I’ve never shied away from a fight with you in my life Krycek. I enjoy beating the shit out of you too much. And on that subject, I think that you and I have some unfinished business to take care of, don’t you?” Mulder threw his fist at Krycek’s jaw without warning, striking the other man a glancing blow. Krycek recovered quickly and launched himself forward, landing on Mulder’s body and winding him as he pushed him back on the couch. He brought his fist down hard on Mulder’s face, making painful contact with Mulder’s cheek. Mulder twisted, and pushed up with all his might, aware of Wanda scurrying away frantically out of the corner of his eye. Anger gave him the strength to

lever his opponent away. “Get the fuck out of my life, Krycek,” he hissed, pummeling the other man with his fists. They both fell off the couch and crashed onto the coffee table, which shattered beneath them. They landed amid the remains of sheared wood and broken glass, Krycek on top.

 “No deal, Mulder. I’m with you forever,” Krycek growled. “You’ll never get rid of me.” They rolled over together, each landing a punch but not hard enough to decide the outcome of the fight.

“You fucking bastard,” Mulder shouted, lashing out in a blind frenzy. He had a vision of Krycek following him for the rest of his life, always there, smirking, offering him leads that turned into traps, wrong-footing him at every turn, and a wave of frustration swept through him. Krycek took advantage of his loss of control and managed to land a punch to Mulder’s midriff that knocked him onto his back. Mulder fell awkwardly, with a grunt, winded, and he lay there, helpless, as Krycek raised his fist to strike.

“Let’s face it, Mulder,” Krycek hissed, his fist poised ready to deliver the decisive blow in this particular battle. “You’re always going to be a sick, crazy pervert, playing your stupid sex games with that thick as shit moron you call Master.” He said that word with a distinct sneer. “You don’t need my help to be any more fucked up than you already are, slave boy.” And with that he brought his fist down. Mulder steeled himself for a blow that never arrived. Instead the lights snapped on, blinding him momentarily in the sudden glare. He heard a low growl of surprise and then Krycek was lifted bodily from him and thrown unceremoniously against the wall, where he crashed to a halt and then slid slowly to the ground.

“Thick as shit?” Skinner’s voice was as cold as ice, and almost expressionless. “It seems to me there’s only one moron around here, Krycek. Tell me, what part of ‘leave Mulder alone’ didn’t you understand when I visited you last time?” He grabbed the collar of Krycek’s black leather jacket and flicked a savage punch at the other man’s jaw that made Mulder wince. Krycek’s head lolled back against the wall, blood running down his chin.

“Leave me alone, Skinner,” Krycek snarled, struggling desperately in Skinner’s grasp. He was suddenly transformed into a vicious animal fighting for his life. “Mulder doesn’t need you to protect him. He’s a big boy now, and he wants to go to Oregon - don’t you, Mulder?” He glanced at Mulder over Skinner’s shoulder. Mulder sat up, gingerly feeling his tender abdomen and bruised jaw.

“There’s his bag by the couch, all packed and ready to go,” Krycek pointed out. Skinner glanced at it and then his eyes swept over Mulder’s face, utterly impassive. Mulder shook his head. He didn’t need to prove anything to Skinner - his Master would take his word over Krycek’s any day of the week. Skinner’s expression hardened as he turned back to their uninvited guest.

“You see, no amount of ‘Yes Master, No Master’ is going to change him,” Krycek taunted. “He’ll always be what he is, however hard you work on him.”

“Oh yes. And what exactly is it that you think he is?” Skinner asked, his fingers digging deep into Krycek’s neck. Krycek gave a smirk, his cut lip splitting open even more, causing a large bubble of blood to well up in the crack.

“He’s easy,” Krycek replied. “Mulder’s easy. You just wind him up, press his buttons, set him in the right direction, and he goes – and I know which buttons to press far more than you do, Skinner. He isn’t really yours – I’m the one who knows him best. I’m the one who can make him dance to my tune like a puppet.”

“Is that so?” Skinner’s voice was deceptively mild.

“Yeah – those are my initials carved on his chest after all.” Krycek grinned smugly as he threw his ultimate jibe at the man holding him against the wall.

Skinner’s expression didn’t change. “Fox, come here,” he ordered. Mulder walked over, wondering what his Master was going to do. Skinner gestured with his head. “Open your shirt, Fox. Show him what’s on your chest.”

Mulder exchanged a grim glance with his Master, and then unbuttoned his shirt to reveal the smooth, neat, almost invisible scar - a scar that no longer spelt out the initials AK.

“You see, things can change, boy,” Skinner said. “Just like that scar changed. Mulder is mine – don’t be in any doubt about that. He’s mine. Don’t mess with him again.”

Krycek’s eyes were sullen and angry as he recognized that he had lost this particular argument. “Let me go, Skinner,” he gasped, struggling pointlessly in the big man’s grasp.

“Not yet. I want to make something very plain, in words that a moron like you can understand,” Skinner said, his large paw holding Krycek upright as he threw off another of those punches that looked so easy but which had to hurt like hell. The assassin’s eyes were starting to look a little glazed. “Leave Mulder alone,” Skinner growled. “Leave me alone. Don’t ever, ever come back here. I don’t give a shit how scared you are of your masters – you should be more afraid of me because if you ever contact us again you’ll really feel my wrath. And I mean that, Krycek. It isn’t an empty threat. If you ever bother either of us again then it’s serious. I won’t play nice. I won’t play by the rules. There will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Sure.” Krycek nodded, licking his lips nervously and wiping away the blood, only for it to well up again almost immediately.

“No.” Skinner shook Krycek as if he were a rag doll. Mulder was in awe of his Master’s angry strength. Skinner was like a cat playing with a mouse – deadly and dangerous. Mulder had no doubt that his Master could have killed Krycek with one flick of his hands, snapping the assassin’s neck as if he were nothing, and he was suddenly profoundly aware how much Skinner held back when dealing with his slave, how those big hands also knew how to caress, and be gentle, and loving. He had never seen Skinner like this before, and it was a revelation to him. He suddenly became aware, with an acute sensation of embarrassment, that his cock had started to swell within his pants. Christ, that was the last thing he needed right now.

“No, that’s not good enough,” Skinner said in a low, intense voice. “You have to really understand, Krycek, because this is the last warning. There won’t be another one.” He shook Krycek again to illustrate the point. The blood running down Krycek’s jaw dripped onto his tee shirt and splattered onto Skinner’s face. “Leave us alone. Don’t come near Mulder – and that means no phone calls, no visits, no turning up here or at the Hoover Building. No emails, no letters – no contact of any kind. Don’t follow him. Don’t come anywhere near him - or I promise you that it will be the last time.” Skinner’s voice was so low and hard that it was almost unrecognizable. “Now I’m going to ask you again – do you understand?” Skinner pressed.

“Y…yes…sir…” Krycek stammered. Mulder smiled – even Krycek was in awe of his Master.

“Good. Then it’s time for you to leave.” Skinner hauled Krycek bodily to the door, then paused and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He called the doorman and requested two members of the security team. When they arrived a few minutes later, he handed Krycek to them with a grim request that he be thrown onto the street and not allowed re-admittance – ever. Then, finally, he shut the door and turned back to his slave boy.

“I thought you had a meeting,” Mulder said, unsure what mood his Master was in. Skinner’s chest was still heaving, and he didn’t know whether his Master had come down off his battle high or not. If not…then he could still be dangerous.

“I couldn’t stay knowing what you were going through. I wanted to be with you for this decision – whichever way you decided to jump,” Skinner told him. “I said a personal emergency had come up. I’m sure the Director wasn’t impressed, but this was more important.”

Mulder was stunned by his Master’s grasp of his priorities. He wasn’t sure he had ever come so decisively first with anyone in his life before. “I had made up my mind,” he said softly. “I wasn’t going. I almost did. I packed to go but I turned back at the last minute. I just had a really bad feeling about it. My decision seemed to upset Krycek. He’s used to me jumping through his hoops. That’s why we were fighting.”

“Are you okay?” Skinner’s eyes were dark and concerned. He wasn’t wearing his wirerims and his face was still spattered with Krycek’s blood. He traced his fingers over Mulder’s bruised cheek.

“I’m fine. You?” Mulder caught his Master’s hand and examined it. Skinner’s knuckles were badly bruised and the skin was scraped in places.

“I’m fine too. Come here.” Skinner wrapped his arms around his slave and held him tight, then pushed him away and glanced in surprise at Mulder’s crotch. “You’re hard,” he observed, in a tone of mild astonishment. “I’m impressed. After all the drama here tonight I’d have thought sex would be the last thing on your mind.”

Mulder felt the heat rise to the surface of his skin and cursed his body silently for giving away a long-held fantasy that fascinated and appalled him so much that he had never been able to give it voice.

“What’s this about?” Skinner asked, his dark eyes intrigued, his fingers gently brushing his slave’s swelling cock.

“You’re hot when you’re in he-man mode that’s all. You know it turns me on,” Mulder deflected the question, feeling utterly embarrassed, hating his body for giving him away. He disengaged himself from his Master’s grasp, turned, and went into the kitchen. He dug out some antiseptic gel from the cupboard, and then returned to escort his Master into the lounge, where he knelt and applied the gel to Skinner’s knuckles.

“I know how it looks – with the bag,” Mulder said softly as he soothed the gel into his Master’s discolored skin. “But I really wasn’t going to go. I’d made up my mind.”

“I believe you.” Skinner smiled, and placed his free hand on Mulder’s shoulders, stroking him affectionately.

“You can go back to LA. Krycek would be an idiot to show up here again and I’m not in danger of being abducted by aliens in Oregon.” Mulder gave a faint, rueful smile. He felt that cold sensation again, and shivered.

“Boy?” Skinner’s fingers found Mulder’s chin and forced his face up to look at him.

“It’s nothing, Master. Just this weird feeling I’ve been having all night. I think I made the right decision.”

“So do I. As for LA – I’m in no mood to fly back straight away. I want to go to bed and have my slave remind me what I’ve been missing while I’ve been away.” Skinner flicked Mulder’s dark hair away from his face, and gazed at his slave boy fondly. Mulder melted into the caress, as he always did. “Before that though…” Skinner drew back reluctantly, and glanced around the room. “I suspect we weren’t the only ones spooked by what happened here this evening. I think a certain someone will be in need of some reassurance too.”

“Wanda.” Mulder got up, frowning. He remembered seeing the little cat rush away at the first sign of violence but had no idea where she had gone after that. They spent the next twenty minutes scouring the apartment but couldn’t find her. Eventually, Skinner called a halt to the search with a sigh of resignation.

“I guess she’s gone to ground. That’s fair enough. She obviously doesn’t want to be found. We’ll have to wait until she decides she’s ready to come out. I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t force Madam to do anything she doesn’t want to do.” He glanced at Mulder. “I don’t know about you, boy but I’m tired. Let’s hit the sheets.” 

Skinner headed for the bedroom and Mulder followed, chewing on his lip. He was still disturbed by his earlier arousal and somehow he knew that this wasn’t something Skinner would allow to rest. He got undressed, knelt beside the bed, and waited until his Master was settled under the sheets before requesting permission to join him. Skinner nodded, and Mulder slid into bed, and was immediately pulled into a pair of big arms. Skinner pushed Mulder’s legs open forcefully with his knee, and pinned him to the bed, kissing him thoroughly. Mulder’s cock hardened immediately.

“You denied me earlier,” Skinner said, his large hands holding Mulder down as surely as any method of bondage. Mulder moaned, too distracted by sex to be able to fathom what his Master was talking about.

“Denied you? I never…I wouldn’t, Master,” he replied in astonishment. He had never once rejected his Master’s sexual advances – he enjoyed them too much for that.

“You denied me a part of your sexuality. I noticed you were aroused and you made an excuse not to talk about it. I want to talk about it,” Skinner insisted, one hand holding Mulder in place, the other stroking his slave’s chest. He paused over Mulder’s left nipple and took it between his fingers, rubbing it to a point. Mulder gasped out loud.

“I’m waiting.” Skinner’s fingers squeezed, and Mulder jack-knifed against his Master’s body.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. I was embarrassed, that’s all. I didn’t mean to deny you anything,” he said quickly. The pressure of the fingers on his nipple eased a little.

“Talk to me about it. If it’s a sexual fantasy then I want to know. I have a right to know my slave’s desires.  Why does it embarrass you after all we’ve done?”

“Because…because it’s…” Mulder struggled with what he wanted to say. Skinner increased the tension on his nipple. “It’s not very PC,” Mulder gasped.

“Neither is slavery.” Skinner released the nipple, and dropped his head to suck the abused nub of flesh, warming and soothing it with his tongue. When he’d finished he kissed his slave on the lips again, a deep, heartfelt kiss then leaned back and gazed at him, clearly waiting for Mulder to elaborate on his fantasy. Mulder remained mute. This wasn’t something he wanted to talk about. After a long silence, Skinner gave a loud sigh, clearly accepting that he wasn’t going to get any answers and unwilling to press the issue after all they’d just been through.

“I was afraid you’d gone to Oregon. I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I came home,” he murmured, caressing Mulder’s features in the dark with his fingers as if to remind himself what they looked like. “I sure as hell didn’t expect to see you writhing on the carpet with Alex Krycek.”

“We really need to get a new security system,” Mulder said wryly. “He broke in twice without any difficulty at all.”

“I’ll look into it,” Skinner murmured absently. He released Mulder and turned over with another deep sigh. Mulder lay there, his cock still hard and aroused. He knew he’d upset his Master with his lack of trust, but this was difficult. All the same – Skinner was right. He was a slave, and he had given control of his body and his desires to his Master. By withholding them he was committing a breach of their contracts, and they both knew it. It was only because they were both so shaken after Krycek's visit that his Master wasn't pressing the issue and he was taking advantage of that fact. Mulder thought about it for a moment, and then touched his Master’s shoulder.

“It was you, holding Krycek against the wall, being so dangerous and uncompromising,” he said quickly, before he could change his mind. “You didn’t care about him. You weren’t careful with him the way you are with me. You know I have a thing about you in he-man mode anyway. You know how much I enjoy really rough sex.” He bit on his lip. Skinner turned to look at him in the darkness. Mulder took a deep breath, unsure how to proceed.

“You want me to force you?” Skinner asked.

Mulder made a face. “Kinda,” he whispered.

“Tell me more.” Skinner slung his thigh over Mulder’s legs, drawing him close. He reached down and began to slowly caress his slave’s hard cock.

Mulder grimaced, torn between pleasure and confession. “It’s not an easy thing to admit,” he murmured.

“You can tell me anything. In fact I insist. As your Master.” Skinner smiled, his white teeth gleaming. “I won’t judge you, Fox. It’s just a fantasy. Tell me,” he urged.

“I know you’re always careful with me and I’m grateful for that because some of what we do is pretty…extreme…but…I’d like to try maybe…something a bit more…when we’re playing that is…” He broke off, realizing what little sense he was making.

“Keep going.” Skinner pumped his cock hard and he gave a gasp of need.

“I’d like to struggle,” Mulder murmured, thankful that it was dark so Skinner couldn’t see the shade of bright red his face had turned. “I want to be subdued. I want to fight…I want to be…”

“Raped?” Skinner flicked some of Mulder’s hair out of his eyes. He was propped up on one elbow, gazing down on his slave with an amused look on his face.

“No! I mean…not for real,” Mulder said quickly.

“I know what you mean, slave boy.” Skinner’s hand was firm on his cock as he milked Mulder to climax. “It isn’t anything to be ashamed of. It’s a common fantasy.”

“Is it? For men?” Mulder grimaced again.

“Well, a lot of men fantasize about being overpowered by a strong, sexy woman so yes, why not? Your fantasy is more skewed to your particular sexuality but it isn’t uncommon. It’s okay, Fox. I know it’s just a fantasy. I also know that if anyone actually tried to rape you you’d fight him tooth and nail. Being my slave means you can’t say 'no' to me. You’re saying you’d like to have a controlled fantasy scenario where you can say no. Where you can fight and struggle against me without the normal rules applying. You want me to take you by force, to make you submit. Yes?”

“I guess.” Mulder glanced at his Master apprehensively, waiting for some kind of reaction. This was a fantasy that he had never shared with anyone before. It was too personal, and, on some level, too shaming, but the idea of his Master overpowering him, forcing him to do what he enjoyed so much anyway…it turned him on. He should have known better than to doubt his Master’s response to his fantasy. There wasn’t the remotest trace of disgust in Skinner’ eyes as he dropped his head and devoured Mulder’s lips with his own, kissing him thoroughly, massaging his slave’s cock hard and fast at the same time.

“How much force?” Skinner whispered in his ear. Mulder tried to concentrate on the question, his breathing coming fast and hard as his Master expertly brought him close to orgasm.

“Uh…as much as it takes. I want to feel the heat of the fight…oh shit…I want to let go, to really get physical, violently physical…oh god!” Mulder jack-knifed off the bed as he came, helplessly, with a groan of satisfaction, and then he lay nerveless and sated, sweat pouring down the side of his face.

Skinner grinned down at him. “That seemed pretty physical to me,” he commented.

“It was. I’m not dissatisfied with anything you do to me, Master,” Mulder said quickly.

“I know.” Skinner nodded.

“But you asked…I was being as honest as I could.” Mulder felt himself flush again. It was bad enough admitting to a rape fantasy, but it was made worse by the fact that it also meant admitting that part of that fantasy was that he refused his Master his rights over his slave – and that was something that went against the very heart of the contract he had freely signed.

“I’m going to fly back to LA tomorrow,” Skinner told him, as the aftermath of Mulder’s orgasm still buzzed in his ears. “Just for a few days.” He smiled at his slave. “As for the other thing…I’ll think about it,” he promised. “There’s something else I want to talk about. Krycek broke in here. He violated our home. Do you need to talk about that? Do you still feel safe here?”

“After the way you threw the rat bastard around? Sure.” Mulder grinned. “It reminded me of that time, years ago, when I brought him here and you slugged him in the gut and handcuffed him to your balcony; the sight of you doing that, bare-chested, fuelled my jerk off fantasies for years. I walked out of this apartment with a hard on the size of Mount Everest in my pants. I had no idea I’d be lucky enough to have the real thing one day.”

“You might like to reclaim the experience,” Skinner mused.

Mulder moved his head in order to examine his Master’s face. He couldn’t read Skinner’s expression in the darkness though. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“Well…just as we took what Krycek did with your chest and made it our own – a bond between us, maybe we could do the same with what he did here tonight and how he violated our home, where we have every right to feel safe.”

“How?” Mulder frowned in the dark, wondering what Skinner was getting at.

“Like I said, I need to give it some thought.” Skinner sank back on his pillows with a weary sigh. Mulder grinned. There was something he could do to make his Master more comfortable. He disappeared under the sheets, and located his Master’s cock with his mouth. Skinner’s hand came down and rested on his hair, as it usually did when his slave was serving him orally. His Master’s cock was as responsive as usual despite his weariness, and it didn’t take long for Mulder to bring him to climax. He swallowed his Master’s come, cleaned Skinner’s beautiful smooth cock, and then snaked his way up the bed. Skinner pulled him into his arms and gave him a kiss and they both lay there in silence. Mulder felt warm and safe within the circle of his Master’s arms but he knew that it had been so close. He had nearly lost everything this evening.

Everything.

If he had gone to Oregon he could have found that space craft - or it could have found him…If he had gone, then instead of being held safely in his Master's arms right now, he could be high above the earth, abducted, just like he was sure his sister had been abducted. Mulder felt as if someone had walked across his grave. He bent his head, and kissed his Master’s wrist, bringing himself back into the present. It hadn’t happened. Whatever might have happened if he had gone to Oregon hadn’t happened, and that was all because his Master had given him something else to live for beside his quest.

“Thank you,” he whispered silently. Skinner laid his cheek against his slave’s. If he was puzzled by the remark he didn’t say so.

A few seconds later a soft thump on the bed and a little squeak alerted them to the fact that Wanda had decided it was safe to come out. Skinner scooped her up, and checked her thoroughly for injury, but the little cat was clearly fine – and equally clearly was thoroughly enjoying all the attention. Mulder could empathize with that. He enjoyed being examined by his Master himself, but for entirely different reasons. Finally, Master, slave and cat settled down to sleep, in a tangle of warm fur and entwined limbs.

Skinner left reluctantly to return to LA first thing the next day. He had arranged for the meeting he should have attended in the morning to be put back until the evening, and he would make it there just in time. Mulder was left with the debris of the previous night’s drama to take care of. The coffee table had been broken in the melee, and the furniture in the living room was upturned. There was blood on the carpet and the wall. Krycek’s blood. Mulder looked at it for a moment, then sighed, grabbed his keys, kissed Wanda on the head and left for work. He'd clean up the apartment when he got home.

Scully was already ensconced in his office talking on the telephone when he arrived. He could tell by the teasing tone in her voice that she was talking to John Doggett and he struggled with his jealousy for a moment. He was pleased for her. She deserved to find someone who'd give her the kind of love that he wasn't capable of, but that didn't mean that a part of him didn't hurt. She was his best friend and he didn't like the idea of sharing her with anyone, any more than he liked the idea of sharing Skinner with anyone.

He didn't have long to think about that subject, because as soon as he sat down at his desk he saw that his computer screen was covered in yellow post-it notes. He raised an eyebrow at Scully who mouthed the word 'gunmen' back at him. Mulder reached for the phone, and called his geeky friends.

"Hey, dude." Langly sounded bubbly. "How's Oregon?"

"I wouldn't know. I'm in DC," Mulder grunted, his heart plummeting. However sure he was that he had made the right decision last night, a part of him would always regret not going after that UFO.

"You're what? Damnit, Mulder. This is what we've been waiting for!" Langly remonstrated.

"Sorry, Ringo but you can get to Oregon just as easily as I can," Mulder pointed out.

"We were relying on you, buddy!" Langly lamented.

Mulder's hand tightened into a fist around the phone. "I know. It just wasn't…the right thing to do."

"Why?"

"Let's just say that someone else wanted me to go there too much to make it safe."

"Safe?" Langly sounded incredulous. "Yo, Mulder, this is me you're talking to! When did you ever want to play it safe?"

Mulder gazed at Scully, who was giggling down the telephone in a way he'd never have believed possible if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"It's just…sometimes…sometimes other things are more important," he murmured.

"Yeah. Right. Either you've found religion or you've found lurve," Langly teased. "Oh shit. You haven't, have you?" He asked.

"Found religion? My work is my religion," Mulder deflected. How long had he and Scully been locked away down here in this basement? And for how much of that time had either of them been really happy? They'd sacrificed their happiness to their work, and now they both had a chance to be fulfilled in an area of their lives that neither of them had been very successful in before. It felt good. He grinned at Scully as she finished her call and put the phone down – only for it to ring again almost immediately. "So, what happened in Oregon? I didn't see anything in the papers about a flying saucer landing," Mulder said, swinging his feet onto his desktop.

"That's because it moved on hours ago. It hovered over Arizona for awhile and then disappeared into god knows where," Langly told him. "It clearly didn't find what it was looking for in Oregon so maybe it had more luck in Arizona."

"What the hell is in Arizona?" Mulder mused. Out of the corner of his eye he saw all the color drain from Scully's face as she answered the incoming call. "Langly, I'll call you back," he said quickly, putting the phone down.

"Scully?"

She stared at him, her face drawn and tense. "It's Gibson Praise. He's been abducted."

"Abducted?" Mulder repeated stupidly. "From where?"

"He was being looked after at a children's home in the Arizona desert."

Mulder felt as if a cold wind had blown up his spine, causing all the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. "Arizona?" he whispered.

"Yes. Why? Does that mean something to you?" Scully asked.

"Nothing that makes any sense. Shit!" Mulder rested his forehead in his hands. "Oh shit."

"Mulder." Scully came over to him, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What is it that you know?"

"It's hard to explain. I just know that…Last night I made a decision, Scully. I think someone had to be taken last night…and if it hadn't been Gibson then it would have been me. That poor kid. Shit!" He kicked his desk, feeling utterly shattered. Gibson Praise was just a kid. If someone had given him a choice, if someone had only explained it to him, then he would have traded himself. He'd have gone instead - if only he'd known.

"Mulder, you aren't making any sense," Scully perched on his desk and rubbed his stiff shoulders.

"It's just a feeling, Scully. It doesn't make any sense and I don't blame you for not taking it seriously. If it were someone else, someone like your sister, Melissa, coming in here and saying the same thing to me then I'd dismiss it as just new age crap…but that wasn't what it felt like. I felt as if my destiny was taking some kind of divergent path – and it was all linked to a decision I made last night. You know, I saw a play once where the whole outcome depended on whether one of the main characters smoked a cigarette before the end of Act One. They had all these different scenarios to play out depending on that cigarette. Last night…last night felt like that." He looked into her uncomprehending blue eyes and shook his head. "I can't tell you how I know but I just do. Last night Gibson Praise was abducted – and if I'd gone to Oregon like I was supposed to then it would have been me, and somehow, and again I'm not sure how I know this, but somehow if it had been me then it wouldn't have been him."

"Oh, Mulder." Scully put her arms around his shoulders and held him. "You don't know that. You can't know that. It's just that over-developed sense of guilt of yours talking."

"No. It isn't." He drew away from her. "It isn't, Scully. Not this time."

"What will you do?" She gazed at him searchingly.

"What can I do?" He spread his arms helplessly. "What the hell can I do?"

Mulder booked a flight to Arizona, knowing in his heart that it was pointless. He called his Master to let him know what he was doing. Skinner sounded worried, and Mulder knew that the other man thought, just like Scully, that this was just his overactive sense of guilt taking responsibility for what had happened. Arizona yielded the dead ends he'd expected. He spoke to a friend of Gibson's who, communicating in sign language, told him what he already knew in his heart. She and Gibson had been walking back from a cook-out in the desert, when they'd seen bright lights overhead. Gibson seemed to know what would happen. He hadn't been scared – instead he had seemed almost fatalistically resigned. She had looked away for a second and when she looked back he was gone. She called his name, but the bright lights overhead had moved away, taking Gibson with them.

Mulder spent another day in Arizona searching for clues, but he already knew it was a waste of time. Exhausted and heartsick, he returned home – to find the evidence of his fight with Krycek still littering the living room. He gazed at it for a moment, and then sank down on his haunches, fighting back tears of anger and frustration. This reminded him so much of another time, a few years ago, when Scully had been abducted and he'd returned to his trashed apartment – only on that occasion he had been alone, with nobody to share his despair. This time it was different. He checked that Wanda was okay - his Master had called Mrs. Asher to ask her to drop by and feed the little cat – and, finding her as bright eyed as ever, he loosened his collar, flung himself down on the couch, and speed-dialed his Master on his cell phone.

"Skinner." Hearing those familiar deep tones made all the difference. Mulder felt the tension start to lift from his aching shoulders.

"Hi. It's me," Mulder said softly. "I just wanted to hear your voice. Things have been pretty shitty the past couple of days."

"No luck in Arizona huh?"

"No. Damn! I feel so useless."

"Listen to me, Fox. None of this was your fault," Skinner told him urgently. "How are you holding up? I mean honestly? I don't want to come home and find you've done something stupid."

"Like going up to the Playroom and taking out my frustration on myself with some of the more savage implements in there?" Mulder asked.

"Something like that."

"No. I won't do that. I just want to fucking well…" Mulder gave into another wave of angry frustration and thumped his fist into the remains of the broken coffee table, watching with some satisfaction as the shards of wood went flying. "I'd trash the place if it wasn't already trashed," he joked feebly.

Skinner gave a wry grunt. "I take it that sound effect was you taking out your anger on inanimate objects?"

"Yeah. The coffee table was already wounded. I just put it out of its misery."

"Look, I'll be home tomorrow. I know you're taking this badly and I understand why, but hurting yourself – or the apartment - won't change anything, and besides, that's my property you'd be damaging, boy – in both cases." Skinner's tones were deep, throaty and masterful, and Mulder felt himself tuning out the rest of the world, and allowing his Master's voice to wash over him, soothing him.

"I know," he replied. "I told you, I won't do anything stupid, Master. I just wish I had a way of getting rid of all this anger. Christ, I almost wish Krycek would break in here again just so I could have the satisfaction of sinking my fist into his stupid ass face. He must have known something like this would happen. This was what he intended to happen to me. If he'd just warned me…if I'd just known that Gibson was at risk…"
"You couldn't have known that – and you can't be sure that Krycek wanted you to go to Oregon so that you'd be abducted either," Skinner pointed out in reasonable tones. "Shit – I have to go, I've got a meeting in a couple of minutes. Listen to me, boy," his tone dropped even further. "I want you to take a bath, and then go and find the butt plug in my nightstand drawer - the big one. Lube it up, and wear it to bed tonight. Remember that you're mine, and that's where my cock belongs – and where it's going to be planted just as soon as I get home."
Mulder managed a wry smile, feeling his own cock swell at the thought of his Master using him.

"Yes, Master," he murmured.

"You can remove the plug tomorrow morning and not before. And Fox – I want you to check your email before you go to bed tonight," Skinner ordered.

"Yes, Master." Mulder frowned, wondering what that was all about. He jumped, startled, as something wet touched his outstretched hand. "Damn, Wanda – you shouldn't be in here. I thought I closed the door," he chided, worried in a case she trod on a splinter of glass. He scooped her up out of harm's way, nestled her on his chest, and tickled her under the chin.

"When did you last eat?" Skinner asked, oblivious to the minor piece of cat drama being enacted on the other end of the line.

"I have no idea."

Mulder heard his Master give a deep, heartfelt sigh. "I don't think you're taking very good care of my property, boy, "Skinner growled. "You'll call the Lotus Flower for take out. Menu options 14, 61 and 37."

"I don't believe you know that menu by heart," Mulder commented, impressed.

"Well I do."

"And what are menu options 14, 61 and 37, Master? If it's all vegetable dishes I won't be a happy slave boy."

"It's healthy – and you need something healthy right now. You know what you get like if you run on empty for too long and trust me, I have ways of dealing with cranky slave boys that you will not like."

"Oh, I know all about those," Mulder laughed down the phone, the combination of Wanda's purring and his Master's erotic threats combining to de-stress him after the events of the past few days.

"Damn. Much as I'd like to stay here and discuss the many slow and painful ways in which I would enjoy punishing your ass, I really do have to go," Skinner sighed. "Be good, Fox."

"I will. When will you be home, Master?"

"Tomorrow sometime. I'm not sure when – it depends on when I finish up here."

"I can't wait."

Mulder switched off his phone and settled back to stroke Wanda. Tomorrow couldn't come too soon as far as he was concerned. He did as his Master had instructed and called for the take out - which actually turned out to be a selection of some of his favorite dishes. Afterwards he took a bath, and then went in search of the butt plug as ordered. Skinner wasn't kidding – it was huge. He surveyed it somewhat glumly – this one wouldn't be easy to either insert or ignore, but that, he guessed, was the point; his Master was trying to distract him. He was loose and relaxed after his bath, and he slathered the plug with lube, lay on the bed and toyed the plug in and out of his anus, just teasing, inserting it further each time. He closed his eyes and imagined it was his Master's hard length, sliding effortlessly into him, and played with his cock, which hardened immediately at the thought of his Master's touch. The butt plug slid into place after a couple of false starts, and Mulder brought himself off with his hand, excited by the thought of following his Master's intimate orders in this way. He was about to turn over and go to sleep when he remembered that Skinner had instructed him to check his email. He was tired and fought a battle with himself about whether this was an order he could ignore until the morning. It was a battle he lost, and, with a resigned sigh, he got up, pulled on his robe, and wandered upstairs to his old bedroom to check his email. He sat down without thinking and jumped straight back up again, his eyes watering, as the butt plug made its presence unequivocally felt. Then he perched back down again, very gingerly, and turned on his computer. There was only the one message in this particular in-box, which was reserved for Master/slave correspondence only. Mulder brought it up, and read it:

To: slave@WSS.com

From: Master@WSS.com

Subject: A New Command For you

Dear Slave,

When I give you the command 'Wanda' I expect to be given total control of your body, without question or hesitation, for my immediate and urgent use.

As this is a special word between us, with considerable significance, and one which holds a certain degree of affection for both of us, I have decided to give it to you as a special gift for a special reason. Needless to say it will not have the same meaning when you say it as it does when you hear it from me – so don't even think about it, boy.

Upon hearing you say the word 'Wanda' I will immediately cease any action that is giving you distress. However it is only to be used in certain specific circumstances, which I trust you will find clear upon my return. Please reply to this email so that I'm sure you've understood.

BTW, my right arm has had a good rest over the past few days and is feeling very strong right now, so I would advise you to stay out of trouble until my return - unless you want to discover just how rested it is.

As always,

Your Loving Master

Mulder laughed at the last comment, then re-read the email, with a frown of surprise. His Master was giving him a safe word? Why? And why now, after all this time? Not that he needed a safe word. Skinner had never done anything that had distressed him…and the one time Mulder had freaked out during sex play he had found that using his Master's given name had been enough to make Skinner stop what he was doing and release him immediately. Not that he disapproved of his Master's choice of safe word – it seemed pretty fitting - but why now? And what did Skinner mean by 'specific circumstances'?