Taste of Life VI - Don’t Ask, Won’t Tell

Date: April 25^th - May 16^th, 2000
Author: Jvantheterrible - Sorry this one took so damned long. RL, blah blah blah.
Category: If you’re this damn far, you KNOW it’s Sk/M. LMAO.
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Chris Carter. Story belongs to me and my readers....okay Tesa, happy now???? LMAO.
Rating: NC-17, of course.
Spoilers: None. I made this.
Author’s Notes: For R. Haynes - for being the bravest damn person that I know....and the strongest. For amokeh, for being my best damn friend in the whole entire world....I love you, babe. (By the way...is there anyone out there who can get a discounted airfare from Michigan to Tucson?) And for everyone who’s written me, giving me constant support and kudos....I appreciate it all beyond words. Oh. And Trajan, I hope you get published...I can’t think of one reason why you wouldn’t, lady.
Feedback: To Jvantheterrible@yahoo.com OR Rllnslvr@aol.com. Flames? No thanks...the desert’s heating up nicely all on its own, actually.

************************************************

Mulder’s been in therapy for two months now. He’s been back at work for almost two weeks, and as far as I can tell, he’s doing much better. He still doesn’t open up to me all that much, but I can’t expect the shrink to do EVERYTHING for us. Twice a week, he tucks his tail between his legs and goes and spills the beans to a psychiatrist that doesn’t know him OR me from Adam. He’s talked about Scully, he’s talked about me, and he’s talked about God knows what else....sometimes he comes home crying, and other times he just comes in and doesn’t say anything for an hour or so, then asks me how my day was. Lately, it’s been getting better; he hasn’t seemed as upset as he did at first. I guess that’s progress. How the Hell would I know?

He doesn’t want a new partner. I can’t say that I blame him, and after discussing the subject at length with the DD, I think he’s going to be on his own with his U.F.O.’s and E.B.E.’s and such for quite some time; it’s not like anyone is beating the door down to work with “Spooky” Mulder, anyway. Except for me, that is. I’ve turned down offers on more than one occasion to hand him over to another Assistant Director. I would no more do that than quit my own job. Even with all the grief that’s been given to me over the X-Files, at this point I wouldn’t just be quitting them...I’d be quitting him, and I’m not going to do that. Ever.

It’s Tuesday night, and I’m waiting for him to come home from his latest session. Come home. To MY home. OUR home? He’s spent most of the past 4 months here with me, and I’m pretty sure that I’d be lost without him. Hell, he even moved his fish in - I guess that’s serious. I’m sitting here watching that godforsaken UFO toy bob up and down in the tank, mesmerized, scotch in hand, waiting for my man to come home. Jesus, what the Hell has happened to me? Married to a woman for seventeen years, and now I’m in love with Fox Mulder. Walter Sergei Skinner the ex-husband? Ex-Marine? Tough guy? Me? Yep, that’s me. I take it in the ass now, and I like it. Fuck anyone who doesn’t get it. Fuck indeed. It’s been almost two weeks since we’ve been together, and I’m wondering if maybe that dry spell’s about over with...I miss Fox. I miss his kisses, and his touch...I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss his cock. I swill the rest of my three fingers of scotch and punch the “on” button on the remote control, looking in vain for something of mild interest to watch. Anything to take my mind off of what Mulder might be discussing this evening with his doctor......and hoping that maybe, just MAYBE, tonight’s the night he’ll have some kind of breakthrough and we can resume our....lovelife. He didn’t used to want to keep his hands off of me; now, I’m lucky to get a chaste kiss at the door.

Like some sort of “Three’s Company” timed entrance, I hear his key in the lock as I finish my last thought. Judging from the look on his face, I’d say it was a crying night. Shit. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, and he nods at me as I watch him come in and hang his overcoat up in the closet. He hangs his head and shuffles over to the couch, plopping down next to me and laying his head on my shoulder. Ahhh, contact. It’s not much, but I’ll take it.

“Rough session, babe?” I ask him, and he nods against my collarbone, silently letting me know that this is yet another night where I am to be the comforter, not the comfortee. I don’t mind; I’ll wrap myself around him, ever thankful for his presence, even if it means that my libido will suffer in silence for God knows how much longer. Selfishly, I only care that this particular doctor hasn’t chosen isolation for Fox; instead, the anonymous “picker of my lover’s brain” has decided that he’s NOT better off alone. Thank God. Mulder’s been through enough already; tearing him away from me would serve no other purpose than his end, I’m pretty damned sure. I’d be lying if I said that that didn’t make me feel proud in some twisted, narcissistic way. Am I really that much of a bastard? I didn’t think so before, but now, I just don’t know.

“Are you hungry?” I ask him, knowing full well that he’s not, but unable to stop myself from offering him sustenance of SOME kind, all the same.

“No,” he sighs, releasing a deep breath exhaustedly against me, and I place my cheek against his spiky brown hair in defeat, only wanting to offer him whatever respite from his therapy session that I can, “But thanks,” he finishes tiredly, yawning as he completes his sentence. Three words - that’s a super response after one of his sessions, I think grimly to myself as he pulls himself away from me and stands, stretching.

“I’m beat, Walt. I’m turning in. You coming?” He asks me, and I stifle the chuckle that comes up into my throat at his question....hell yeah, I WISH I were coming, I think. I instantly feel like a bastard of mammoth proportions, and I know my ears have turned pink at my own thought. He noticed.....I was hoping he’d miss it. Goddammit.

“What’s the blush for, Wal - oh. Oh,” he pauses, and I see the hurt flash through his eyes as he realizes his Freudian slip, and I feel about two inches tall. Fuck you, Walter, I think to myself, and I can see a little moisture in his eyes before I’ve even had a chance to apologize. “Uh, I’m sorry, Walter. I didn’t mean to...I mean, I don’t mean to......oh FUCK IT,” he grinds out in frustration, and he proceeds to run up the stairs to my room, and I can hear the sob in his voice as he reaches the landing, and it tears my fucking heart out, so much so that I can almost see the damned organ sitting there on the floor in front of me - pulsating, slowly losing momentum, then ceasing to move at all, just like our relationship these past several days. What the Hell is wrong with me?

“Fox,” I yell as I follow him up the stairs moments later, “Mulder, please,” I attempt, but he’s already locked himself in the bathroom. What is all this about, anyway, I wonder? He’s hiding from me now? I knock gently on the door, “Hey, Mulder, are you alright? Look, I’m sorry, Fox. I didn’t mean to -” I stop when he cuts me off.

“I’m okay,” he says shakily from behind the door, “Really, Walter. I just need to take a shower...I’ll be alright, then.......okay?” He asks in his usual ‘I’m fine’ manner, ever mindful of MY need to be reassured that he’s alright. He’s not all-fucking-right. I’m pissed, I’m hurt, and I’m worried. GODDAMMIT.

“Alright,” I say, feigning my defeat, “I’m going back downstairs for a bit,” I tell him weakly, and with that, I hear the shower spray come on and I head back downstairs to my bottle of scotch. Two more fingers ought to do me in. I pour the amber liquid slowly into my glass as I assess the last ten minutes of my life. I can’t take much more of this, that much is CERTAIN. I need him, in whatever fucked-up form I can have him; I am beginning to realize what a bastard I REALLY am at this point. Half-drunk, lonely in my own house, desiring the touch of one of my suboordinates that has just lost the closest person to him in his entire life..........how the fuck did I ever get to this point? I am most certainly NOT a needy individual...am I? When did I become co-dependant? I don’t even need to ask that question. It was four months ago, the moment that Dana Scully died under my own two hands. The moment I realized that I had to tell Fox Mulder that she was dead, that I had failed as her so-called superior, that he no longer had anyone left to trust. Except me. Like he would trust me after I got his partner killed in the line of duty. But he DOES trust me. God. Help. Me.....or him.......I’m just not certain which at this point.

And I love him. I truly do. I want nothing more out of life from this moment on than to feel his touch. Feel his lips on mine. Feel him consuming me as only he can. But........he’s not with me at the moment. At the moment, he’s most likely cursing the very day he was assigned to me, while I sit here and wonder just what the Hell I think I’m doing having a relationship with him. Ironic? I wonder. I toss back my scotch and rest my head on the back of my couch as I wait for him to exit the shower, climb into bed, and nod off before I wrap myself around him; at least in sleep, everything is still okay. Or is it?

***********************************************

It’s only 1:33 a.m., according to the clock, when he suddenly screams himself awake in my arms. I let him go, struggling to watch his sweaty retreat in the dark of the room. He’s panting in his slumber-induced panic, and I try to hold him, but he won’t let me touch him; he pulls away from me when I reach instinctively for him, and I settle for just being allowed to sit a few feet away from him.

“Fffffffuck,” he gasps, and I sit up in the bed, running my hands over my scalp, trying desperately yet in vain to offer him some sort of support. He pulls away from me, as he has so often these last couple of weeks, and my heart once again sinks to the depths of what feels like the tips of my toes. “Mulder,” I rasp, my voice gravelly from sleep, and he does nothing but shiver.

“I.....I’m alright,” he says weakly, pulling his knees up under his chin, wrapping his arms around his shins and shrinking away from me when I once again try to move closer to him.

“No, you’re NOT alright,” I tell him gruffly, mildly infuriated by his ignorance of MY feelings, of what I want, of what I NEED. I can’t do this anymore; I can’t deny what I feel for him, what I want - no, need from him. This is fucking bullshit. “Mulder. Fox,” I tell him, and from his quick intake of breath, I can tell that he’s dreading what’s coming next.

“Look. I’ve been understanding. I’ve been sympathetic. I’ve been remorseful. I’ve been......guilty,” I finish quietly. I can feel more than see his gaze in the pitch black, and I go on, despite his obvious reluctance at facing this particular ‘Truth.’ “But there is only so much I can take, Fox. You’re not letting me in to what is going on in that brilliant mind of yours, and I can’t deal with it anymore.” I’m now practically begging for some sort of explanation for his actions of late. “Fox,” I tell him, the lump in my throat nearly choking me, “Please. I miss you. I need you. And I want you,” I finish, and the slight gasp from the other side of the bed tells me all I need to know.

“I’m so sorry, Walter,” he whispers, and I feel that nothing I do or say will fix what is happening with him - or to us. He sniffles a little, coming down from the adrenalin rush of his nightmare, and I can hear his breathing slowly even out. I relax a little bit then, but I can feel his tension from where he remains sitting up, just out of my reach.

“Walter,” he practically whispers, “I love you,” he says, and I’m unable to move. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can’t......believe it. He loves me? He won’t touch me, or let me touch him, but he....he loves me?

“What?” I ask him, disbelief causing me to momentarily lose all conscious train of thought.

“I love you, Walter. I said I love you,” he says, in his regular voice. I don’t know what to say, so I go with what comes naturally.

“Fox, I...I love you too. Come here,” I say to him, holding my arms out in the dark. He releases his knees and moves over, climbing into my lap like a small child, resting his head underneath my chin. I can feel moisture leaking down his face, and I kiss his head and wrap my arms around him, holding him tightly to me.

“I didn’t want to tell you, Walter. That’s why I’ve been so....so distant these last few weeks, and I’m sorry for that. I just....everyone I love....dies. I was afraid that if I told you....how I felt, you’d....you’d....” he trails off, a quiet sob catching in his throat, and he shudders against me.

“Fox, I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, “You don’t have to worry about that. Seriously. I’m in perfect health, I -” He cuts me off again, and although I’m frustrated, I decide to let him talk. I know now that this is what he needs.

“Everyone, Skinner. They all died. Samantha, my father, my mother, and.......and Scully. I told them all that I loved them, and they’re all gone. I don’t want to lose you, Walter. I.....I can’t,” he says, shaking his head against my chest, “You’re all I have left in the world. That’s why I’ve been so distant....I’ve been talking about this with my doctor, and......it’s my epiphany. It’s my truth, Walter. THE truth,” he says, and when he doesn’t speak for a few minutes, I know he’s done. Whoa. So THIS is what he’s been torn up about the last couple of weeks. Never MIND the fact that he’s dealing with losing Scully; he’s been afraid to tell me how he really feels because he thinks I’ll be taken away too. No wonder he’s so goddamned paranoid. He just needs to realize that I’m not going anywhere; I wouldn’t leave him if my life depended on it.

I lie back down and pull him with me, holding him close against me, and before long, he’s snoring quietly in my arms, and I finally nod off as well. I’m still hot for him, but at least now I know where he’s coming from, and that lessens the blow - pun intended.

*************************************************
The alarm clock goes off at my usual time, an hour before he gets up, and I smack it quickly so as not to wake Mulder; he can use the extra ‘Z’s, especially with that nightmare last night.

I hop in the shower, practically humming to myself with my joy at his admission from the wee hours of this morning - he loves me. He doesn’t want to lose me. I haven’t felt this giddy since.......since......shit, EVER.

I towel off and brush my teeth naked, admiring my form in the mirror; yeah, I’ve got some battle scars - but I still look pretty good. I flex briefly and smile at my idiocy, spitting out the last of the toothpaste and rinsing my mouth while I decide mentally which suit is going to do the trick today. Suddenly, it hits me what I want to do. The black power suit should do nicely; Mulder’s told me my ass looks edible in those slacks. Edible. Dinner. I’ll take him out tonight. I get dressed in complete silence while I watch him sleep, taking in his prone form like so much eye candy. Candy indeed. I check my nearly fully dressed reflection in the mirror, careful to turn around and see if my ass really does look edible; nope, just my ass. Oh well....as long as Fox sees it that way. I decide to give him one last dream before he wakes, and I lean over his side of the bed, careful not to wrinkle my suit in the process.

“Babe,” I murmur in his ear, my gravelly voice penetrating his sleep shield, “I want to take you out to dinner tonight, m’kay?” I use my tie to tickle his nose, smiling at his insistence to remain asleep.

No response is forthcoming, but he does wiggle around a little against my attempt to rouse him from his beauty sleep; not like he NEEDS beauty rest, mind you. My Fox is nothing less than striking in slumber, even moreso than when he’s awake. Unfortunately, he’s not a morning person like I am; he forces me to use my arsenal of charms when I wake before he does. Luckily, I’m all too willing to comply, and my supply is more than adequate to battle his reluctance to open his eyes. I nip his earlobe, causing him to groan appreciatively yet apprehensively; he is conscious enough to realize that I’m attracting his attention, and that’s the only ‘in’ that I require.

“Hey, babe, I’m taking you out tonight. Did you hear me?” I ask him, and he nods against my chin, pushing me away and pulling a pillow over his head. No, definitely NOT a morning person, in any way, shape, or form.

I smile as I leave the room, knotting my tie as I head out the front door for the J. Edgar Hoover building.

************************************************

By lunchtime, he’s called me twice; once when he got in to make sure he heard me correctly this morning, and the second time was to set up a so-called appointment for half an hour later.

That was twenty-five minutes ago, and I’m sitting here attempting to look bogged down in work so that he doesn’t think I’m looking quite so forward to his visit - even though I am, the bastard. The intercom buzzes, and I instruct Kimberly to send Agent Mulder in right away.

He walks in with this devilish grin on his face, locking the door behind him as he enters. His hazel eyes are blazing, and he looks absolutely beautiful, that pouty mouth pulled up into a smile that hasn’t lit up his face in days. I nearly gasp at the sight, but I manage to pull myself together, concentrating in vain on the files in front of me, refusing to meet his gaze. This is the game we play in the office; I pretend to be too busy, and he pretends that some X-File is hanging in the balance, my opinion or approval the only thing that will allow him to proceed. It’s total bullshit, nothing more than a ruse to spend time together in the office. And I love it. So does he.

“Sir,” he begins, and I get a slight shiver - Jesus, get a grip, Walter, “I was wondering....I heard that my presence has been requested for a dinner meeting this evening,” he says, slinking over to my desk and perching himself on the corner of the polished mahogany, folding his hands in his lap.

“Yes, Agent Mulder,” I growl, maintaining my Assistant Director persona, “And?” I’m trying to tamp down my erection even now; if he doesn’t give in tonight, I’m afraid I’m going to develop callouses on my palm.....I still refuse to look at him, concentrating blankly on the files on my desk, and I can feel his hot gaze burning into my body.

“Well, sir, I wanted to know if it would be alright if I left a little early today. See, there’s something I need to prepare for, and....well, I just need a little extra time.” Oh my God. He’s going to....he’s.....oh yeah. It’s been over two weeks, and he can leave NOW if he wants to, as far as I’m concerned. I yank my wirerims off and meet his gaze for the first time since he walked in, and suddenly, I lose control of myself.

I stand up so fast I nearly knock my executive leather chair over in the process; I grab his shoulders and pull him back towards me, feeling his arms wrap around my neck; I plunge my tongue into his welcoming mouth as he scoots his ass across my desk, and wraps his legs around my waist. Oh God.....I can’t....this can’t happen here....but it’s been so fucking long.....and he tastes so fucking good; all musk, and cologne, and something so intimately Fox that nothing else in the world can compare to it.

I find myself thrusting against him, and I can feel his erection grazing mine, separated only by two layers of slacks and boxers, and I grasp his waist, pulling him against me so I can feel him even closer to me; it’s heaven, even though it’s wrong...not here....not now....and then nothing else matters except him and me and.......he pulls away from me, gasping in my ear for me to sit back down. He’s practically begging me, and I finally give in, dropping back into my chair.

Fox drops to his knees in front of me, undoing my belt with his long, lanky fingers, and he takes my zipper in his teeth, pulling it slowly south...oh God, he’s going to....oh Jesus, this is so wrong, but......

“Uuuunnnhhhhh,” I manage, as I feel his hot, wet mouth close around my hard-on. I don’t remember the last time I was this hard for him...I mean, we have great sex, but with all this time lapsed since the last time....Good God, this is fucking amazing.

“Mmmmm,” I hear him groan, and I nearly come then and there, but I pull back a little with my hips, letting him know to take it slow. He releases me a little, licking my pre-cum with the tip of his tongue, continuing on only when he feels my hands in his hair, pulling him further down on me when I’m ready.

He takes me all the way into his mouth, and I gasp again; this isn’t going to take long, and he damn well knows it. His lips caress my balls ever so gently, while his tongue works its magic over my glans.

He looks up at me, making eye contact with me as he deep throats me, and I can only shudder at the sensation of being in his mouth while he begs me silently with his eyes to come.....come....oh....oh God....the buzzer on my phone goes off....and I don’t even care...he speeds up his pace and I thrust into his mouth with reckless abandon, struggling not to choke him as he deep throats me, forcing me to moan out loud, holding back as much as I can while I spill into his mouth and down his throat. He smiles up at me slyly, my phone still buzzing as he licks his lips and bats his long lashes at me. I’m still trying to catch my breath as I pick up the phone with a curt, “YES,” my gaze not leaving his.

“Sir, the Deputy Director has requested a meeting with you...what should I tell him?” she says, and I pray that she hasn’t heard my voice....or my attempts to stifle it, as the case may be.

“Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes,” I tell her, struggling not to sound as out of breath as I am. I think I’ve succeeded as I hang up the phone, Mulder zipping my trousers back up seductively, thankfully with his hands and not his teeth....Dear God, is my cock twitching again already? I haven’t been this - horny - since High School. Ohhhh, he’s going to get his tonight, BUT good.

“Later,” he tells me, as he kisses me lightly on the lips, smirking as he gets up to leave me with my dreaded meeting with MY boss.

“Uh huh,” I tell him, “Just you wait, Agent Mulder,” and he feigns a shiver as he walks to my door and unlocks it, leaving with a gleam in his eye. I can’t wait until 5:00; I will leave on time today, I will leave on time today.........

************************************************

I’ve been trying to call him since 4:00, and he’s gone already. The DD wanted nothing more than an update as to Mulder’s progress, and I was all too happy to oblige; he’s fine, in therapy, and taking on his usual workload of X-Files, content to be chasing his little gray men in his usual diligent manner. What am I supposed to say? That Mulder and I are boning, and Fox has never been happier? That I have never been happier? It’s the Truth...but it’s the Truth that NO one is privvy to but Fox and I. And it’s going to stay that way....no matter what. Don’t ask, don’t tell - ANYone.

************************************************

My cellphone rings at 5:30, and it’s Fox. Surprise, surprise. He seems to have forgotten that I still have the upper hand in this situation; he has no idea where I want to take him tonight. I have a reservation at Anthony’s for 7. I’m sure he was hoping that with his little escapade in my office this afternoon that he was the one with all the surprises - NOT.

“Sir, I seem to have, er, forgotten where we are supposed to meet this evening....and the meeting time, as well. Perhaps you shouldn’t tell me these details while I’m peacefully slumbering,” he says coyly, and I actually snort at him.

“Nice try, Mulder. I’ll pick you up in half an hour. Be ready,” I tell him with a growl, and I can practically feel his lips on mine with his response.

“Oh, I’m ready, babe. Don’t you worry about THAT,” he laughs, and with that, he hangs up. I shake my head, smiling to no one but myself, wondering what in the hell HE has planned for ME this evening. He seems bound and determined to make up for these last couple of weeks; as IF I’d complain.

************************************************

He’s waiting curbside for me when I pull up at six-thirty sharp, having stopped on my way home to pick him up a red rose as a lapel decoration. He blushes a little at my gesture, leaning over to kiss me once we’re safely ensconced in my FBI-issued Ford, replete with tinted windows. Nothing but the best for the ‘Men In Black’, right, Hoover old man? I’ll bet old J. Edgar is up there just beaming over Fox Mulder and me right this minute; surely this is what he had in mind all those years ago - errant Special Agents doing their tight-assed Assistant Directors, all in the name of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. SURE he did - and I’ll thank him every damn day for the rest of my life.

“Well,” he asks me, and I can feel his hazel gaze searing into my right cheek as I concentrate just a little too intently on the road, “Where are we going, Walter? I’ve been waiting - patiently I might add - all damn day for this,” he says, “Now ‘fess up.”

“Agent Mulder,” I tell him, and he shivers a bit at my tone; nice to know I can still turn him on by being bossy, “You’ll see when we’re there. Why don’t you just sit back and relax?”

“If I recall correctly, A.D. Skinner, that’s MY line,” he mumbles, undoing his seatbelt. He leans towards me seductively while I watch him out the corner of my eye; he reaches playfully for my fly, and laughs when I smack his hand away.

“Relax, Agent Mulder. There’ll be plenty of time for dessert. For now, just concentrate on the issue at hand.”

“Mmm, I know where I want your hand, Walter,” he says lustily, and I have to bite my tongue to keep from busting out laughing myself. He is in rare form this evening, that much is certain.

We’re just minutes from Anthony’s, and he guesses it right away. Of course; at what other restaurant would we be able to snuggle into a corner together, not having to worry about being spotted by the Consortium or anyone else from the Bureau? Anyone that would spot us at Anthony’s would be busted themselves. Touche.

“As usual, Walter, you do not disappoint,” he remarks smugly, and I merely smile at him as I park the car, finally turning to face him once the keys are in my coat pocket. He’s absolutely smoldering; sitting there, a promising tent already pitched for me in his lap if my eyes don’t deceive me - and they rarely do, especially where Fox is concerned.

“You’re insatiable,” I mutter to him, and he beams at me once more, all of his teeth showing in one of his rare and priceless full smiles, “Come on, I’m starving, and you’re going to need all the energy you can muster tonight.....Fox,” I tell him, waggling my eyebrows suggestively at him.

“Walter,” he says, his smile fading slowly, “I haven’t been insatiable lately. And I’m sorry for that,” he starts, but I reach over and press my left index and middle fingertips against his lips to silence him before he can go any further.

“I know, Mulder, I know. It’s alright; you don’t need to apologize to me. For anything. Alright?” I ask him quietly, and he nods at me, kissing my fingers gently before I pull them away to reach for my door handle. He turns simultaneously to open his door, and before I can even open the door all the way, it’s wrenched forcefully away from me - and so is Mulder.

***************************************************

I couldn’t see how many of them there were; best as I could tell, two of them had me by the shoulders, pinning me neatly and inescapably against the side of the car. My wirerims came off in their struggle to pull me out, and I could see Mulder, albeit blurily, across the car from me. I guess there were four of them all told, because Mulder didn’t appear to be moving either, and there were two ‘shadows’ directly behind him. I felt something sharp against my back, and one of them whispered to me that if I could follow orders as well as he supposed I could, then my little boyfriend wouldn’t get hurt. Shitshitshit. This was supposed to be a safe haven.

“Come on, big guy,” asshole number one sneered, “We have something we want to show you.” They pulled me away from the car and pushed me into a narrow alley just a few feet away from where we had parked. I could hear Mulder grunting behind me, and at least I knew he was still alright. I had a bad feeling about this....and it was getting worse by the second.

***************************************************

I can hear a lot of shuffling around; goddammit, I can’t see a fucking thing, what with losing my glasses and it being so dark here. Mulder hasn’t made a sound, and that is an instant tip off that we are way screwed; he NEVER shuts up, especially in a crisis. At least, he hasn’t before.

Okay. I attempt to assess the situation; Mulder and I are clearly being picked on because of.....our sexual orientation. Who the hell are these idiots, and what the hell do they know? Don’t they see the Government plates on the car? For all they know, we’re just two guys going out for a business dinner. Granted, Anthony’s IS the underground.....um, okay, fine, scratch that. They know that much.

“Hey Baldy,” the one I assume to be asshole number two laughs (it’s a different voice than the one I heard before), “Who do you work for? CIA? Do you know what the CIA stands for?” He cracks himself up and has to stop for a minute while he snorts in earnest, “It means ‘Cum In the Ass,” he guffaws whole-heartedly, and when his accomplices join in the joke, I suddenly hear that telltale banjo music playing in the background - Deliverance on Acid, here we come.....

“Good one,” Mulder whispers under his breath - I’m sure he MEANT for it to be under his breath, but I heard him...and so did they. Mulder cries out and gasps for air, so I can only assume that they’ve sucker-punched him. Jesus, I HOPE that’s all they’ve done.

“Mulder,” I hiss, only concerned with his well-being; I can take whatever these punks have to deal out and more....but Mulder.....he’s a little fragile at the moment. Has been for the past 3 months or so since his partner was offed in the line of duty.....I shiver at the thought, and apparently, assholes one and two think they’ve turned me on by hitting Fox.

“Ooooh, look, Daddy likes it rough,” asshole one says, and assholes three and four hit Mulder a few more times, until he sounds like he’s couging up a lung. I struggle to free myself from their grasp, but they hold me fast where I stand; these boys must work out.

“Leave him alone, you bastards,” I snarl in my best A.D. voice, and assholes one and two give some sort of signal to the other two to quit. Apparently, I have proven my alpha status, and they intend to take me down a notch or two. A. S. A. P.

“Don’t you mean...leave HER alone,” asshole two says, and I can hear more than see his shit-eating grin; I’ve done enough questioning in my time to recognize that tone.

“Fuck you,” I tell him brazenly, and I am rewarded with a kick to the groin that sprawls me out on the ground a split second later. I can hear Mulder’s breathless, ‘NO’, but I’m too busy clutching my crotch at the moment to ponder it. Jesus CHRIST that hurt. Fucking dirty fighting punks, I think, all the while trying to clear the stars from my eyes.

“Motherfucking FAGGOT,” asshole one yells, kicking me in the ribs as he verbalizes what is most likely his extreme case of homophobia in action, “FUCKING GOVERNMENT ASS LICKER,” he screams as he plants the heel of his boot against my head. Okay, this is getting serious. I can hear Mulder whimpering, pleading with assholes three and four to make assholes one and two stop. All that seems to do is earn him what sounds like another punch - most likely to the solar plexus, and I hear a thud; that would be Fox hitting the ground, if I’m not mistaken.

I’m pissed now. I can’t even stand up, but I’m fucking steamed. So I decide that perhaps a verbal communication might be in order; anything to draw attention to me and away from Fox. “What,” I gasp, struggling to catch my breath, “Do you want?” I ask, and it suddenly gets really quiet in the alley. All I can hear is Mulder’s panting, and assholes one through four breathing heavily. Yeah, beating up innocent people will exhaust you - contrary to the popular stupid criminal belief that it makes your dick bigger.

“We want you to stop sticking your dick up his ass,” Asshole two says matter-of-factly, and they all bust out laughing at that.

“What business is it.....of yours.....” I grunt, and I’m pulled to my feet by assholes one and two before I can finish, and I think even asshole three is here now; Mulder’s still on the ground, as best as I can tell. Asshole four is making sure he stays there, too.

“We’re taxpayers, big daddy,” Asshole one says, “And we pay your salary. All of you fucking fairies come here to hang out, and we’re sick of seeing it in our neighborhood. Bad enough we pay you to fuck each other....but you can keep your disease on YOUR side of town,” he finishes, and a chorus of ‘yeah’ breaks out in the darkness.

“Fine,” I tell them, recovering slowly from their punches and kicks, “We’re going. You all have a nice evening, alright? Come on, Mulder. Let’s -” Asshole one cuts me off in mid-sentence by punching me in the stomach...except.....when his fist comes back, there’s a sharp pain that remains. Oh God, no...what the.......

*************************************************

They all run off whooping and hollering, and Mulder is instantly at my side. I’ve managed to drop to my knees, but it still hurts; I was sure if I could just catch my breath I’d be fine. But I can’t catch my breath, and Mulder is....is he crying? They must have hit him too hard, I think, only worried about him, certain that if I could just have a minute to lie down....lie down and get my breath back.....

“Walter,” Mulder sobs, clutching at my coat pockets, “You promised,” he cries.

“Fox,” I gasp, still not understanding why I’m so out of oxygen...what the.....and why is he desperately patting me down? What did I promise?

“Ssssh,” He says, tears flooding his face, “Where’s your phone, Walt,” he cries. I reach out to him and instantly I feel the pain in my middle again; they must have really knocked me a good one, I think, following Mulder’s gaze and looking down to assess the damage...and there it is. Sticking out of me. Fuck. -Ing. -A.

“You promised,” he gasps, in between sobs, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me, Walter Skinner, and you’re not. Where the FUCK IS THE PHONE,” he screams, and I start to lurch forward, unable to stay upright any longer. “NO,” He shouts in my ear, “Stay with me, Walt. You promised...you fucking promised me, goddamn you,” he says as he catches me, holding me tightly to him, doing his best not to push the knife in any further while he searches in vain for my cellphone.

“Glove...box,” I gasp, wondering how in the hell he’s going to make it to the car, he’s holding onto me so tight......and then in a flash, he’s gone.

He left me. He laid me down here on the ground in this godforsaken alley, and he left me. I close my eyes, and concentrate on breathing. I’m so fucking tired all of a sudden....and the next thing I know, he’s back, my phone to his ear, screaming for an ambulance. He gives the location and then he drops my phone to the ground, gingerly pulling me back up so I am resting in his lap.

I struggle to speak, but he shushes me, telling me I need to save my strength, hang in there, stay with him.

“Mulder,” I croak, and he leans down so he can hear me. He’s shaking now, and I can feel his tremors beneath my body, and I try to soothe him in the only way I know how in these situations. “You’re.....supposed to....stay on the line, you idiot,” I gasp, and he cries harder and pulls me closer.

Moments later, I can hear the ambulance siren, just barely, over Mulder’s pleading cries, and I smile and close my eyes. I’m so tired. So tired.....

***************************************************


End of Taste of Life VI - Don’t Ask, Won’t Tell

Don’t worry....I won’t make you all wait so long this time! PROMISE.