The Game 61

Edited by Karen Leigh

"I'm hopin' you can help us out," Beau said as they started down the corridor. "We don't have a room, y'see - last night Skip lent us his accommodations. Would you be able to procure a place for us to sleep, do you think?"

Matthew was mildly amused by his own reactions to his new circumstances. He was usually gregarious, outgoing. In fact, he was accustomed to being the most gregarious and outgoing person around. Yet, here, for some reason, he only mustered a shy smile for Dana Scully before business called her away. Otherwise, he was contentedly tagging along with Beau.

It was this strange feeling of contentment that Matthew was analyzing, only half listening to the conversation between Beau and Gabriel..

"Actually, I can. In fact, I already have," Gabriel replied, proud that he had anticipated the need accurately. "I have obtained rooms for us all." He sent a visual message to Beau, showing him exactly which rooms the helpful Mac had shown him earlier and where they were located in the compound.

Matthew smiled at Gabriel and then frowned. Gabriel seemed to be in distress. If the longing look back to the terrace meant anything, it seemed that Cory had gained a new admirer. Idly, Matthew watched Gabriel and wondered where Dustin was.

Gabriel was so glad to help. Anything to keep his mind off the fact that Cory was outside...with Philip. The ache in his chest was growing to alarming proportions and he tried to ignore it. It was beginning to frighten him, as he really didn't know how to explain it. Was this 'love'? This terrible need? This anxiety-filled sense of loss and separation? He began to wonder if it had really been such a good idea to get himself so fully-equipped to experience emotions. To conceptualize them was one thing, to feel was another. So far, it didn't feel very good. He ruthlessly tried to clamp down on his doubts and not show any outward sign of his inner struggle. It wouldn't do for someone who had saved the life of One and his brethren to suddenly start falling apart. Particularly in front of his new friends.

"Ah tell you what, Gabe," Beau said, throwing one arm around their new friend's shoulders. "Matthew here hasn't eaten in ages. Why don't you come on to the cafeteria with us? We can talk... get acquainted."

Gabriel blinked.

Matthew grinned. Beau had shortened Gabriel's name without a second thought and Gabriel didn't look like he knew how to react.

"Come on, boy. We'll jest drop Tallulah off in our room first."

Beau set off with great enthusiasm, Matthew and Gabriel on either side of him, Tallulah in his arms.

As he fell in with the others, Matthew became aware that he was, in fact, very hungry. Looking forward to some food somehow restored his natural curiosity. "Hey, Gabriel," he called. "Do you know what's going on? I mean, what passes for the grand scheme of things around here and how we fit in ... if we fit in, that is?"

When Gabriel hesitated, Matthew smiled and urged, "Maybe start with your story. What brought you here?"

Gabriel was grateful for the distraction from his quickly growing and all-consuming (and he feared, painful and unwanted) fascination with Cory. He smiled at Matthew. "I was brought here badly damaged, in need of repair. Someone had to stop the van that was carrying One and the others of my kind to their doom and the only way to get the van to stop was to create a physical obstacle. Unfortunately, this resulted in my being turned into mangled spare parts. One managed to salvage most of me in the end, however."

"Once I arrived here, I saw how beneficial the experiences that could be gained from having an active emotional self enhanced my brothers' existences. I asked to be re-equipped and received a complete overhaul. I was a 9000-series model and now I am much more." A frown crossed Gabriel's face. "I am beginning to wonder though, if it was worth it. Emotions seem to bring...pain of a kind that is more insidious and confusing than mere physical sensation."

Intrigued by the concept of emotions being completely new experiences, Matthew thought about retracting his "big picture" question. But Gabriel, or Gabe, was on a roll.

Gabriel realized that being a human; Matthew hadn't had the advantage of having instant access to the connective link as he and Beau did. "How much do you know? Has no one spoken with you about the reason for our remaining in this compound, this place of safety? Or why so many humans and clones alike have felt the urge to gather here?"

Beau shook his head. "Actually, Gabe, we know just about nothin'. We arrived in town pretty recently and we've been... busy with one thing or another ever since."

One thing or another," Matthew murmured before chuckling softly. "Which was I?" he mused.

Beau stopped at the correct room and opened the door, set Tallulah down and told her to take a nap. "There," Beau closed the door and smiled at Gabriel and Matthew. "Come on, Gabe, tell us what's going on while we walk to the cafeteria. And we'll try to help you out with these new emotions of yours."

Grinning, Matthew silently applauded Beau's final statement, listening to Tallulah's goodbye barks. Maybe he'd get something he could use as a story out of this yet. And, even if he didn't, he was nearly bursting something vital with curiosity about how it felt to be an android in an adult body who was feeling things like ... well, like lust, for the first time.

"Sure," Matthew added, smiling at Gabriel. "We'll ... ah ... exchange information. Won't we, Beau?"

Beau's suddenly more interested expression transformed Matthew's smile into a grin that threatened to morph further into a smirk. Afraid that Gabriel would misinterpret that or the blush that was stealing onto his cheeks, Matthew moved toward the cafeteria murmuring, "Some coffee wouldn't hurt right now, either."

"Thank you," Gabriel said, sincerely. "I do appreciate having the both of you to talk to at this time."

Gabriel had noticed the interchange between the two but decided not to act as though he had. He was already feeling quite lost at sea in the emotional storm that Cory had quite unknowingly stirred up within him. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to the two men's obvious relationship. He guessed he could pick up helpful tips, as they had suggested. They seemed to be new to each other at any rate. He also felt very grateful that they would allow him to accompany them. He was certain that if left to his own devices at this point, he'd simply go to his room in a welter of confusion. Still, he didn't want to interfere in any way.

As Matthew went up to get coffee, Beau and Gabriel sat down at one of the tables. Gabriel asked Beau, "I could download the information I have on the current situation directly to you, to update you on the status of the Innobotics mission and the events leading up to it. I could do so over the connection. Do you wish for me to? That way you could explain it all to Matthew, the parts that we do not cover in our spoken conversation."

After a glance in Matthew's direction Beau nodded in agreement. "Ah think that's an excellent idea, Gabe."

Gabriel initiated a transfer of his memory files to date, including all of the scattered memory engrams that existed from his very first moments of consciousness as the un-enhanced 9021 prior to his new name and added emotional capabilities. He was more than aware of Matthew's human inability to link to the Mac 27 collective, and knew that they would have to explain what had occurred so far.

Almost over come by the influx of information - so new to him - Beau searched for a distraction. He frowned at Matthew with concern. "Don't you think you'd better eat? It's been hours since you had a meal."

Absently, Matthew waved a hand at Beau as he regarded Gabriel closely. "I can't eat when I'm curious."

A grunt with a decided Southern tone dragged Matthew's eyes to Beau. Frowning, Matthew surmised that the discomfort he saw in Beau had to have resulted from the information he'd just exchanged with Gabriel. Not sure he wanted to know those details just yet, Matthew decided to take a different approach, almost smacking himself on the forehead in punishment for not thinking of it sooner. v "Can I ask you a few questions, Gabriel?" At a nod from the android, Matthew launched. "Where're you from? What was your original ... um ... assignment?" Sensing hesitation, Matthew deflected his questions slightly with another. "Do you prefer Gabriel or is Gabe okay?"

Gabriel smiled at him. "Gabe is fine. It's nice to have a nickname." He flicked a thankful glance at Beau, for it was his new Southern friend who had given it to him. "It wasn't an assignment, really. I was needed. I must admit that as a 9000-series model Mac 27, my capabilities far exceeded simply using myself as a road stop. But at least I was able to stop the van that held One and my brothers. The impact...the impact was terrible though. And the aftermath..."

Gabriel couldn't help the wince as he recalled what fragments remained of that final memory. One and Skip's technicians had removed the memory of the pain but not the collision itself. He was glad, for it had been a turning point in the events that had led to the Mac 27s repairing to the compound, and Gabriel remained proud of his actions.

"One worked ceaselessly to salvage me. I will always be grateful to him. But after we arrived here, I began to see how much more rewarding existence might be if I only had the ability to have an emotional self, from seeing the interactions of others of my brethren who owned them." Gabriel tilted his head, musing aloud, "I'm not sure what I am now, actually. Skip's technicians enhanced me so spectacularly, and I have only just begun to discover how far they extend. Although, so far emotions haven't been very pleasant."

"Ahhh," Beau nodded sagely. "Yer emotions. They can be right difficult to deal with for humans as well as Macs. Right, Matthew?"

"You got that right," Matthew muttered. "A lot of humans just try to ignore them or ... or to convince themselves that they're feeling something they're not."

"Ah suggest you talk to us - tell us what yer feelin'. It's Cory, ain't it?" Beau asked softly. "Tell us, Gabe."

Gabriel was concerned at the pang that went through him at the mere mention of the immortal's name. It was composed of doubt and excitement, tinged with a frisson of happiness just to be thinking about Cory Raines. He bit his lip.

Looking down at the table, he was horrified to find that the emotions that were surging through him now were making it harder for him to concentrate. "I am not sure I can describe the feelings. They are painful and yet so wonderful. It hurts, and yet I would not give it up for anything. I wish that I could belong to him, and that he belonged to me. But I fear that is selfish. And I am afraid that it - that he will not want anything to do with me, because I am an android, and he is a human. An immortal human, no less! He is the original of all the clones."

Gabriel looked up at Beau, then at Matthew. "Did you know? Cory Raines' DNA is what went into the creation of all the others, even yourself, Matthew."

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Anson burst into the infirmary, wild-eyed and panting. "Methos! I need to talk to you - about Philip."

Methos was studying the chip that Dana Scully had just removed from his neck when Anson burst into the surgery, looking somewhat irate. He pushed away the microscope and turned, just in time to receive an armful of indignant Anson.

"What's happened, Anson-love? Is Philip all right? I was worried about him." He absently rubbed Anson's back and shoulders as he tried to calm the obviously agitated man. Better come and sit, and tell me all about it.

"Come on then, kid. Tell me what's put you into such a lather, and what happened to Philip?"

Anson took a couple of deep breaths and stepped loser to Methos, seeking his warmth. "Philip's... I... He... Shit!" Closing his eyes, he tried to bring his jumbled thoughts into order. "I found him in the woods. We talked - well, actually, we argued. I um - I apologized for the way I acted - tried to explain. And he-" Anson broke off the words, unconsciously clenching his hands into fists as he remembered the way Philip had spoken to him.

"Whoa, love. Calm down." Methos placed his arms around Anson, and frowned as he listened to the outrage that was pouring from him.

"He basically accused us of kidnapping him with no reason other than 'our own pleasure'. Called YOU my *Daddy*." Opening his eyes, Anson let Methos see just how hurt and angered he'd been by Philip's words. "And then he left - I came here. Saw him on the porch, sitting on a chaise - he looked like he might be unconscious. And, I think he's leaving the compound - at least, that's the impression I got."

Lowering his eyes, Anson avoided the censure he was afraid he might find in Methos expression. "I wasn't very nice to him, Methos - I'm sorry, I meant to be - but when he said those things, I just... well, I got a little nasty."

"Damn! The arrogant little... I'm sorry you had to listen to that. You must have felt really angry. I know that you... that we... He was willing though. Nobody coerced him. He could have left!" Methos felt irritation rise inside him. He'd tried to help the man and damn, he had been viewed with mistrust, and now his love was furious because he had tried to do a favour for him. Methos practically ground his teeth. "Thank you for trying, love. You didn't have to put up with that. I'm grateful to you..." He dropped a kiss onto Anson's nose and attempted a smile that didn't contain enough venom to poison an army. He thought that he might have succeeded when Anson relaxed a little.

"I think we should go for some lunch. It's rather late." He checked his watch. "Hell, it's almost 4. Did you eat already?" Anson shook his head, and together they left the sick bay. As they walked down the corridor together, Methos inquired mildly, "Just what would being your 'Daddy' entail, anyway?"

Anson snickered. "I'm not sure - but I'll bet I could think up a description of your duties." The memory of just how nastily Philip had made the 'daddy' comment in the first place sobered him. "I'm not... I mean, you don't think of me like some kind of idiot kid, do you?"

Of course, he knew Methos didn't think of him that way - still, the implication had hurt. A little reassurance would go a long way at this point.

Turning in to the dining area, Methos made a beeline for the sushi, and filled a plate full of assorted rolls, finishing up by grabbing a few pieces of tempura. Heading for a table beside the wall, Methos waited for Anson to get something to eat and join him. When at last Anson slid into a seat beside him, Methos was eating tobiko with every evidence of enjoyment.

Grinning at Anson, he chomped down on another piece, and absently waved his chopsticks at his lover.

"So tell me about this Daddy thing. It's baffling me. I'm certainly older than you are, so that isn't at issue, but what's so bad about that? I think you're a kid, yeah, but not an idiot. I think that you're a sexy kid with a lot of potential hidden behind a whole lot of fear. I want to make the fear go away, and see what else is there inside. You're going to grow, and change, so if that makes me Daddy, then so be it. Is that okay with you?" He turned back to his sushi, and ate for a minute or two, and then turned back to Anson, who seemed to be speechless. "Too bad if it's not, really, kid. Now come on, eat your vegetables, and quit kicking the table leg!"

Anson didn't know whether to be offended or angry or what after Methos' little speech. He stared at the other man in silence for another moment, and then the humor of the idea just hit him. And, once he started laughing, he couldn't seem to stop.

Methos paused his chewing long enough to frown in feigned disapproval at Anson's amusement. That only made it worse. Tears streamed down his face as he tried, with a noticeable lack of success to calm his laughter.

Concentrating on regulating his breathing, Anson finally managed to calm himself. He smirked and fluttered his eyelashes at Methos.

"Yes, Daddy," he said demurely.

Picking up his fork, Anson proceeded to eat his macaroni and cheese.

Lips twitching, Methos watched Anson as he worked through his paroxysms of laughter, and waited for the hilarity to subside. "I can't say that I've ever really been in the position before. Immortals are sterile. So tell me, do I spank you now as a preventative measure, or should I wait until you actually break curfew or something?"

He laid his chopsticks down and took Anson's hand. "Seriously, love, I'm worried about Philip. He's in trouble... having some kind of breakdown. It was really apparent last night, and although he seemed better this morning, I don't think that he's clear by any means. I don't know what to do. He needs help."

The gravity of Methos' tone drove all thoughts of amusement from Anson's mind. Philip. Yeah, Philip.

"I agree - something's wrong with him. He didn't look too good when I passed him outside." He closed his hand more tightly around Methos' when the immortal started to rise to his feet. "Cory was in the hall, I told him and he went outside."

Methos raised an eyebrow in question. "They were talking - out in the woods, when I found Philip earlier," Anson hastily explained. "Cory will come and find you if he thinks Philip needs you. Sit down and eat," Anson instructed.

Picking up his own fork again, he proceeded to follow his own advice.

Much as he hated to admit that to himself, Anson was probably right this time. Philip had seemed to react so strongly to him that it seemed that there would be little comfort he could offer that would outweigh the distress that his presence would cause him. Cory would have the sense to come and get him if there were problems, he was sure. Cory didn't like stress, and he wouldn't like having a sick man fall to pieces on him. It would be fine. All it meant was that he wouldn't be able to go far from the infirmary until it became plain that Philip was fine -- or more likely until the breakdown became so advanced that Cory couldn't handle it.

Methos subsided, and toyed with his tempura. The food was wonderful, and yet worry made it taste like ashes in his mouth. Finally, he pushed away his plate and turned to Anson.

"Gods, you know, kid, I could murder a beer. Are you old enough to drink?"

Anson merely grunted as he continued to eat, and Methos grinned wickedly, then got to his feet and went to fetch himself a beer. Parking himself back down in his seat, he stretched out his long legs and lounged back as he raised the bottle to his lips. "Oh, well, kid. Here's to you attaining the age of majority."

Very slowly and deliberately, Anson set his fork down on his plate and raised his napkin to wipe his lips clean. As the napkin was lowered to the tabletop, his eyes rose to meet Methos' lazily amused gaze.

"I'm not sure if you even realize how condescending you're being, Methos," Anson said slowly, choosing his words with care. This was way too important for temper tantrums or sulking and he wanted to make sure the immortal took him seriously - if only for a moment. "I know that you've lived longer than I can possibly imagine - and, therefore, I must seem pretty childish to you. But, I had a Daddy - he's dead now and I am not looking for a replacement. I've been spanked, been strapped, been beaten - and never once did I enjoy it or think it was a game of any kind."

Sitting back in his chair, Anson studied Methos face - unable to read the expression, he took a deep breath and plunged on. "If you're looking for a 'kid', I think we have a problem here. And, if you're into discipline as some kind of erotic thrill, we have a major problem here."

There was a pause, during which time Methos continued to twist his beer bottle lazily with long fingers. His expression gave nothing away. Finally, he sighed and pushed the bottle to one side, then turned to face Anson full on.

"Anson? Look at me." He didn't say anything else, and after a few minutes of stalemate, Anson turned hurt green eyes onto Methos. "Thanks, love." He took a deep breath, and searched Anson's eyes before he continued.

"You knew that I was older than you long before this evening. It's funny. It didn't seem to matter to you before tonight. However, what I want to ask you is this, have I shown any interest at all in discipline as an erotic thrill? Have I given you any indication that it might be an interest of mine? Has there been a moment when you thought that I was going to beat you or brutalize you, or indeed do anything except give you pleasure? If so, best you tell me now."

Anson sighed. Nothing was ever easy with Methos. "Methos, think back on what you've said to me since I told you about Philip's 'daddy' comment - you've mentioned spanking me at least three times in the past half hour."

He lowered his eyes, shielding his expression from Methos' sharp gaze. "I... that makes me nervous. And - well, as for your age - I THOUGHT we had that straightened out... but this condescending tone of yours - not to mention the 'daddy' comments make me think that we should discuss it more. I don't think it's so much our age difference as it is this sudden attitude you seem to have taken."

He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know - maybe I'm just being overly sensitive. Again." Smiling ruefully, he looked up to meet Methos' sharp hazel eyes. "We both know that's a problem of mine - but this is... I mean - YOU are too important to me to let this go the way I've done with other lovers. We both know what happens when I try to ignore my um, doubts. I love you - and you say you love me too. I just - I need to talk about these things as they come up, instead of hiding how I feel and letting it fester inside of me." "Come on," said Methos. "We probably should talk this out away from the rest of the folks in this room. I think that we've entertained them quite enough for one day with our little escapade al fresco earlier on today. Let's go when you've done with your meal."

As they approached the dining room, Cory's stomach started rumbling in anticipation. Damn, he was starved! Quickening his steps, Cory grinned at Philip. "I didn't know how hungry I was, Philip. Now that I can actually smell the food..." his stomach growled loudly. "Damn," Cory groaned. "I could eat a horse - all by myself!"

Relieved that Cory didn't seem inclined to press him for explanations he really didn't have, Philip returned the grin. "Not if I get to it first." Walking beside him down the hall (quieter here now, yet more intent, and did that mean something...?), Philip once again found the man's company as engaging, as arousing, as the buzz that flowed around him. And once again felt the tinge of regret, that he would have no opportunity to explore the possibilities... "And I'd probably fight you for the hooves," he continued as they neared the door. "I haven't managed to get through a single meal since -- "

Then he felt it, a stinging lash across his mind, and his words died away.

Anson cast a swift glance at Methos' somber face, and pushed back his chair wordlessly. Together they started towards the door. Methos felt the quickening as they approached the entrance to the canteen, and behind it, underlying it like violins behind a soaring flute, that other buzz that was not quite a quickening, but which was wholly unique. Methos tensed as Cory came into the room, followed by Philip. Somehow the sight of the two of them together made Methos feel unaccountably angry and aggrieved. Where did Philip get off making accusations the way that he had? His eyes were filled with hurt as he watched the two pass him, and heard Anson's intake of breath behind him. Then they were out the door and the buzz died away.

Even though he sharply reined in the reflex to look at the pair as they left, Philip could feel the anger, his sense of Anson a shadow against that of Methos. Of course, Anson would have told Methos about the argument...he'd have to be careful of them both, then, until he could leave...

Methos walked out through the door that led to the annex where their room was, but didn't go straight to the room, instead he went to sit on one of the benches that were there in the small garden that filled the square, and watched to see if Anson would join him. As Anson came to sit with him, Methos turned to him.

"I wanted to tell you where I'm coming from, so that you'll know and understand. After that, it's all your choice what you do.

"Anson, I've been far more cruel, far less kind than you can possibly imagine. I'm old, Anson, and I've lived through many lifetimes. Things weren't always as they are now, and neither was I as you see me today. Thousands of years ago, I was called Death. You should know that about me. I killed people. I did it for fun. My brothers and I were the gremlins that mothers frighten their children with when they won't go to sleep at night.

"For a thousand years, maybe more, I slaughtered the innocent and the guilty alike. They meant nothing to me. They were merely playthings for my pleasure, and I enjoyed it. It was my right. God, Anson, I have no idea how many men have died at my hand - how many women and children. It meant nothing to me then, but that was then. The world moved on, and so did I. The world changed. I changed with it. I can't obliterate my past, but I can live with it and learn, and hope to make amends. I'm a different person now. A life means something to me other than a plaything for my amusement. If I were to seek the enjoyments of torment from my past, my little love, I wouldn't be looking for erotic spanking or anything so tame. I'd be looking to plunge my hands into your chest to rip out your still beating heart...

"But I'm not looking for that. I'm looking for friendship, for someone to be with that I like, whose company I enjoy. I'm looking for someone to share jokes with. I thought that it could be you, but maybe I was wrong."

He finished speaking and leant back, closing his eyes to shut out Anson's reaction.

Anson sat in silence, mulling over Methos' words. "Methos-" he said, "Listen, I'm sorry that I took your teasing the wrong way. I can't... I can't even imagine your past - BUT, I will tell you that I've also done things I regret - things I'm ashamed of. And, I'm trying so fucking hard to change myself. Not only to please you - to make myself a better person."

Sighing, Anson squatted and reached forward to lift Methos' face with a gentle hand on the other man's chin - needing to see Methos' expression - wanting Methos to see how sincere he was being.

Guarded hazel eyes met green for a moment, and then lowered again.

Damn.

"I've fallen in love with you, Methos. You know that... and, dammit, your past is not... I mean - I just wanted to talk about this spanking thing," Anson confessed. "I know now that I was wrong - that I took your teasing the wrong way. I just - I have issues about that." With a snort of self-contempt, Anson shrugged. "What DON'T I have issues with? I want to be with you. I NEED you - and I need you to understand that if I don't 'get it' - your humor - that you'll at least take the time to talk to me about it - not leave me because I'm so filled with self-doubt that I misunderstand."

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

As they entered the cafeteria, Cory inhaled deeply, savoring the wonderful odors. Oh yeah. He made a beeline for the counter and asked for a little of this, a lot of that - until his tray was heavily laden with food.

Standing back, he waited for Philip to fill his tray, scanning the room for an available table. Seeing Beau, Matthew and Gabriel, he nodded in greeting. Gabriel gave him a look that made him very aware that the youngster had developed a fascination with him.

Shaken by the impact of emotion from Methos and Anson, their anger and...oddly, *pain*, Philip blindly followed Cory over to the service area. Almost without thought, he selected his food and even got a somewhat puzzled Mac -- another of the refugees, who had taken over the positions of the apparently departed human staff of the place -- to package a few things for him, for the road. He vaguely noted Cory standing nearby, nodding toward someone...that pretty Mac, no doubt. Unaware, he drew on the immortal's buoyant energy as if taking a deep breath; steadied by it, he lifted the tray and turned.

Figuring that it was best to not give the kid any ideas - hell, that was the last thing he needed now... not wanting to encourage Gabriel, giving the kid any sign that his crush (for lack of a better word) was in any way returned, Cory offered a non-committal nod in greeting, then turned back to Philip.

"There's an empty table over there," he said, nodding towards a table - a table on the opposite side of the room from Beau and company. "Shall we? Or, would you rather take this back to our room?"

What...? Somewhere, in the course of walking here, it had become '*our* room'...? Having prepared himself for a brief goodbye at most, Philip looked at Cory for a moment before answering. "The table's probably a good idea," he said at last, smiling. "If we expect to get through dinner."

Smile broadening a bit, he shook his head as Cory echoed his earlier 'after you' gesture, and threaded his way through the room toward the indicated table, very aware of Cory's eyes on him as he did.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Gabriel looked up as two people came into the cafeteria. A shock that was nearly electric ran through his entire system as he recognized them. It was Philip... and Cory.

His face burned; it felt so hot that he worried he might be overheating or something equally abnormal. He found himself biting his lip and absently wondered what subroutine had engaged in his head. For surely this had to be some sort of automatic emotional response he had not yet encountered. It was horrifying. He felt as though his whole body had seized up and even his aural sensitivity had diminished. His entire existence was suddenly dangling from a string.

Gabriel could hardly expect Cory to notice that they were there, much less notice that *he* was there, so it was with a strange flip in his insides that he saw Cory turn his head and actually look over the cafeteria, stopping when he saw Beau, Matthew and Gabriel sitting at their table.

When Cory nodded his head at them, Gabriel felt time stand still. Would Cory recognize him? He was frozen as Cory then looked straight at him... and gave him an almost dismissive nod before turning back to Philip and quite obviously indicating the opposite side of the room. One android, duly noted.

Gabriel's world collapsed. He looked away, tearing his eyes from them to try to focus on something - *anything* - else. He knew that Philip needed Cory and he was more than aware that there was nothing really that Gabriel could offer the immortal. The pathetic comparison of his own android existence to Cory Raines' collected years of experience so far left him lacking indeed. But to see the way that Philip looked at Cory, the solicitous way that Cory leaned towards him... Gabriel experienced a shaft of despairing pain that rippled throughout his entire frame, inside and out.

What had he been thinking? How could he have been so deluded as to hope, to even *dream*, that Cory might be interested in him? He'd allowed himself to hope when Cory had been so friendly, coming up to him outside the infirmary. Now he felt stupid for even imagining that he might get to know Cory at all, that Cory would even have the time to speak to him. Gabriel realized he had been selfish, as he had feared, with everything that was going on, for him to be harboring this absurd fascination with the immortal (as if there weren't other immortals there amongst them anyway) and with all of them there in peril, and when every single individual Mac and clone and human alike would soon be needed to protect their cause.

It was as if a darkness had suddenly descended into his world and he didn't even really know what he had lost. He wished he had never been so foolish as to ask Skip and his technicians to refit him with all these fancy emotional programs and new wiring. It had been sheer hubris to imagine that it was necessary under their circumstances, or that he could ever have anything in common with an Immortal like Cory anyway. He hated emotions, he hated them!

Gabriel began to panic. He didn't want to be in here. He didn't want to see Cory. Again. Ever. Please, just let it all disappear. He began to tremble. Trying to stop it from happening didn't seem to work; if anything, his shaking grew worse. He couldn't think, couldn't focus even on the table before him. He couldn't see. He didn't even see Beau and Matthew with him. What was wrong with him? It terrified him that he couldn't control this experience. It had seized him with all the fury of a whirlwind and wouldn't let him go. He couldn't breathe. What was happening to him?

Beau felt every emotion that raced through Gabe's head. Knew that a breakdown was imminent. Poor boy! Fucking Cory! Firmly suppressing his own anger and frustration, Beau laid one hand on Gabe's shoulder.

"C'mon, Gabe. You come back to our room - get away from Cory. Ah don't think you should be alone right now. You need to talk - you need to know that you're not alone - that you CAN handle these emotions, control them."

He concentrated on letting Gabe feel the concern he felt, let him feel the comfort he offered. Glancing over at Matthew, Beau could see acceptance - understanding - in those pretty eyes.

They rose, pulling Gabe up to stand between them. With an unspoken understanding of Gabe's fragile state, they herded Gabe out into the hallway and supported him as they headed for their room.

Gabriel let his friends lead him away, barely able to really care except to note that at least they were leaving the cafeteria. But as they walked down the hallway in the direction of the room he'd helped to secure for Beau and Matthew, he felt a part of himself shrinking inside. He was lost in that storm now, the one that had been encroaching on him even before Cory and Philip had entered the room. That emotional turbulence had snatched him up and now it wouldn't let him go. He felt numb on the outside, as if he didn't have any strength left at all.

Feeling as though he had lost Cory - and he had never even had him. Never touched him. Never really spoken with him. Never would now. To never have held him. And he knew now what true 'disappointment' was. What 'despair' tasted like. What 'loss' was.

Suddenly he realized that the semantic net of language and syntax was nothing compared to the experience of the meaning of these words. He was shocked at how painful it was. He had imagined emotions would help him grow and develop, would be something beautiful.

His mind desperately raged at this and he tried to stop himself from thinking these thoughts but it was as if the emotional subroutines and processes his entire system was being held in the grip of had overrun his ability to think.

He could feel Beau's supportive mind-touch, keeping a tentative hold on him, stopping him from slipping all the way down into the furtive idea in the back of his mind: get rid of them, these emotions. Somehow, surely, there could be a way to reverse the process. To stop this. To get this horrible emotional fever out of his circuits.

With a terrible sense of fatality, he realized it could not be done, at least not here, now that Skip and his technicians were gone. He wondered if he wouldn't have been better off to go with them.

As they arrived at Beau and Matthew's room, Beau opened the door. Despite Matthew's comforting touch on his arm, Gabriel stopped. He raised defeated eyes to Beau. "I thank you for your kindness, but maybe I don't want to intrude on your relationship, or your space."

At Beau's somewhat exasperated snort and Matthew's insistent new hold on him, Gabriel allowed himself to be moved into the room and the door was shut behind them.

He stood in the middle of the room, feeling lost.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Mulder looked down at Wraith curiously. He seemed so harmless now - Mulder wondered how much of his arrogant superiority had been caused by Phoenix's interference. He was tempted to touch him, his attitude had been so much of a turn-on to Mulder that he wanted to see if he could provoke a reaction, a violent reaction... but it was pointless under the circumstances.

He giggled again. It all seemed so unreal. Surreal.

*Pull yourself together,* snapped Fox. *You're acting as if you're drunk, Mulder. This is serious.*

*Who made you the responsible one, Foxy?* thought Mulder. *Think you can do better? Try it!*

Suddenly he was gone. The man who had been Mulder staggered, and Fox looked out through his eyes, appalled. Backing off, he sprinted back to Krycek's side hoping his lover would be understanding enough to protect him. This was Mulder's business, not his, and Mulder never left him to cope with danger.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

"Close the door." The request was softly spoken but Marita had been listening carefully. As soon as the portal was shut, Wraith tripped the security lock. There was no way he wanted those people in the hallway to have access to himself and his lovers while he was malfunctioning.

"Let Marita see to your arm, Tom. I need to reroute some programming and do some minor repairs." Wraith didn't want to withdraw from gentle touch on his hair but it had to be done. Small mercy this could be done with his uplinks. Wraith wasn't in the mood to stick a cord into his brain right now.

Rather than the mass security shutdown, Wraith began picking through each system individually while his programming sorted itself out. The stairway was left open but several labs were sealed back up. "When you're done, Tom, I need on of you to remove some of the wiring just under the skin of my back. It's nothing I need and it's causing trouble."

Tom glanced at Marita, "You sure?" he asked looking back at Wraith. He saw the nod. He motioned for Marita, glancing at the door, glad that Mulder was on the other side. After what Mulder whispered to him... he wanted to kill the man. Pinocchio always pressed into him, take out your enemy before he takes you out. But that wasn't Hobbes... but now, in Mulder, he would see the reason why.

He went to clean up his arm, washing the blood off and letting Marita clean and wrap it. He watched her. She reminded him of Sophie in a way. The innocence was hidden there, though it showed in Sophie. He realized too, Marita wore the same perfume. He leaned in slight to smell it but then pulled back, turning his head to Wraith. "How well do you know this Mulder?" he asked Marita.

She shook her head. "It's a long story."

"He..."Hobbes sighed shaking his head as he went back to Wraith to tend to him. He gently rolled the man over. Slowly he lifted Wraith's shirt, his body quaked at the feel of he skin he was touching. "Mulder wants to kill me. He wants to fuck you, Wraith, and kill me. He said it was to be 'our' little secret."

"Agent Mulder is not rational." Wraith caught his shirt and pulled it over his head, taking it off the rest of the way. "If Krycek does not control the man properly I will have to take steps to do it myself should they remain here." Bending forward to tighten the skin across his back sent sparks of pain through his nervous system.

"What do I need to do?" Hobbes asked, wanting to get his mind off Mulder.

"Get a knife, Tom, a soldering iron and something to sop up the blood." A finger flicked absently. "You might need tweezers as well. The filaments are rather fine." Removing the components without replacing them was going to impair his functions slightly but neither of his companions were up to the task of installing new wiring. "Cut a shallow slice between my shoulder blades. There will be six wires. Two right at my spine. Two to the left and two to the right. Either catch them with the tip of the blade or run your finger across. Pull them out from under the skin slowly upward. You can tear them outward but it will leave open wounds down the length of my back. Sever them at my neck and burn the exposed ends to seal them."

Wraith had disconnected himself internally from the wires but the physical pain of their removal was unavoidable. His hands caught the edge of the bed and tightened down until his knuckles were white. "Do it. I'll have a Mac 27 repair it properly later when there's time."

Sending part of his mind out to deal with the compound's computer system helped. Marita coming to stand between his knees helped more. Wraith let his forehead tip and she was kind enough to allow it to rest against hers.

Tom had gathered all the items and using a knife was ready to make the cut. He hated to do it but... Taking the tip he pushed it into the skin, seeing blood starting to flow. He made the cut and saw the wires. Using both finger and blade, he ran up the length of the spine to where he was instructed by his love.

He looked at Marita, seeing tenderness in her eyes as she ran her fingers through Wraith's hair to sooth him. "Almost done," he said to his partner as he tore his blue eyes from Marita and went back to work. He pulled out the wires, discarding them on the floor. He then turned on the small soldering iron to seal the ends. He worked carefully and closely till he was sure he was one.

"Done," he said as he proceeded to stitch the man back up and place a bandage over the cut he had to make. Tom's fingers moved smoothly and more surely when he was placing the bandage on. He leaned around to look at the man, "Is that better?" he asked throwing a glance at Marita before looking back at his partner

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

When Fox reached Alex, he knew it would be unfair to tell him what had happened, that he was no longer Mulder. He had enough to cope with without having to act as bodyguard to his pet slut. Trying to calm himself, he said, "Wraith seems to have relinquished his control over the security systems. The fire door down the hall is ajar. We should see what we can find in this place, and get out before it collapses around us. Do you think Marita or any of the Mac 27's could point us in the right direction? And I expect Gross is back by now, and searching for us, if you think he'd be of any use."

Jess turned her head [Weird!] Mulder's scent had seemed to change completely. If she had only smelled him, she would have thought it was a different man. [Does Mulder have clones running around here too?]

Fox looked at Alex longingly, licking his lips. Only a couple of hours to go until midnight, he thought, remembering what Alex had made him promise on the truck, what seemed like an eternity ago. He knew that there was probably no chance of collecting on that promise, but he could hope. He wondered if he dared kiss Alex again. Would Mulder... ? 50-50, perhaps... Good enough odds for Fox. Taking Alex's face in his hands, the skin of his palms rasping over his rough cheeks, and oblivious to any watchers, he fastened his lips to Alex's beautiful mouth.

One ear flicked to Sasha when the Mac 27 knelt beside her. "The containment field is uploaded. We should be safe for at least the moment." Jess gave a brief nod and walked over to the elevator shaft, studying the wreckage of the elevator car. She wasn't sure that anyone could rappel down it with the car blocking it, but it might be possible. Sitting down on her haunches, she gazed up the shaft, looking like she was ready to howl at the moon.

~Leigh? Where are you? Is Roy...er everything okay up there?~

~Jess, we're fine. Digging through the mess in front of the elevator. We've been monitoring you. Glad the situation has improved. I've been down the elevator shaft but we are all too large to get through the debris. Wraith has opened the stairways so you can come to us. We are on the fifth floor. It is clear so we will head for the stairs at the north end of the building and start down to the lobby. Roy is fine. Holding up very well, all things considered. You picked a winner in this one Jess. Johnny has been very worried. Marcus had to restrain him from coming out here.~

A moment passed and Jess caught Leigh answering a question from Roy about her well being and a warm sensation shivered behind her breastbone.

~It will take us a little time to get to ground level - we have to give each floor a second run through to make sure nothing is at our backs. Until we can be sure Wraith is back in full control and on our side I want to ensure that Mulder and Alex don't get blindsided when we are gone. You can ask them if they plan to stay? There is no room for them in the helicopter. We will have to leave some of our weightier gear with Gross in order to carry you and Sasha.

So make a last check on Wraith and also see if you and Sasha can determine whether Phoenix remains any kind of threat. I do not want that one regaining control of anything is that understood. I am sure they have plenty of acid around here - something that would render him permanently harmless. Just in case Wraith can't make up his mind what side he is going to come down on, we will continue to destroy the building's technical structure. See you soon and don't get careless now that the main crisis seems to have cleared up, the people who designed this building and set up its guards were truly warped individuals.~

Jess' husky half growl half laugh came back to him along with a mind picture of Marita, Wraith, and Phoenix as she last saw him in all his youth, beauty and arrogance.

That brought a smile to his face, ~exactly.~ Then he laughed out loud and she got his impression of her impression of Mulder. ~You think maybe he came out of this lab too. One of their failed experiments?~

Sasha watched as Jess shook with furry laughter. It was fascinating. He had read that true wolves actually appeared to laugh but seeing it made him want to join in.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

"Hand me your cell, Agent Doggett," Skinner ordered abruptly, as they approached their destination.

As he punched in Bryson's number, Skinner did his best to ignore the bad feeling steadily growing stronger as they got closer. Warehouses... fucking warehouses. How the FUCK were they going to find her in such a place?

When Denise immediately answered the phone, Skinner took a deep breath, firmly suppressing his worry and doubts. He closed his eyes, concentrating on keeping his voice level and reassuring.

"Bryson? We're almost there - might take some time to pinpoint your location - but we will. We WILL. You hang in there, okay? For me?"

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

Meanwhile in LA...

Jarrod was pacing nervously around his office, his cell phone clutched tightly against his ear.

"Hello? Has Mr. Yarma from room number 1117 come back already? No? No, I don't want to leave another message, but could you please make sure that he gets the ones I've already left the moment he checks in? It's very important. Thank you."

He ended the call and tried Dustin's cell number, swearing under his breath when the voice-mail picked up.

"Dustin, it's me, Jarrod. Minnow's after you, man. He's completely crazy! After you went to DC, he started to act strangely, yelling at everyone he came across, including Darcy and Mackey. And yesterday he came to my office and demanded that I told him where you were. I didn't want to tell him, really, I didn't, but he went ballistic. He broke my fucking fingers, man." Jarrod's voice broke slightly with the last bit of information, when he remembered the pain in his arm and the completely psychotic gleam in Minnow's eyes as the other man was crushing his left hand. "Anyway, he went after you yesterday, so he should be in DC now. Watch out, man. I've given him the wrong hotel but I don't think it'll slow him down much. He's a lunatic, don't try to confront him. Just... stay safe, please."

With a sigh Jarrod disconnected and resumed his restless pacing.

--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--[o]--

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