Menemsha Beach/Cherry Blossom Days

by Starfish

Summary:
Siberianpine: So write a story about Alexei at 13 kickin his cherry in the waves of the ocean, or something...
starfish01201: ::shivers::
starfish01201: oooh, yes
Siberianpine: with a pretty boy who won't say what he's called...
starfish01201: damn you!!
Siberianpine: because "it's a stupid name"
starfish01201: I need to go home and write this

Rated: PG, under-age m/m stuff

Disclaimer: Blah blah blah. 1013 didn't own 'em yet.

Author's Notes: As you see above, the characters are not of legal age. However, anybody who remembers being that age remembers feeling pretty damn grown-up at the time. If you're gonna be squicked, don't bother to read it. But I promise, no actual sex. I have taken liberties with the Vineyard and its geography, but the beach is there. Its name means "Waters of Peace", which is a good start for these two...

Beta: This is for Wildy, who inspired it. And beta'd it. And gave it a name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time Alex Krycek saw his newest 'assignment', he heard gulls crying. Smelled salt air. And remembered

a beach in the sun

warm sand and cool water

hazel eyes that really *saw* him

and he wondered if the other remembered too. Because they say you never forget your first time

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Summer vacation. Have any two words ever sounded sweeter? And yet, by the third week, the inactivity begins to pall. You start to long for something, *anything*, new. So when your parents suggest a weekend at the beach, you jump at it. Even if it means being seen with your parents. So you pack your bathing suit, and all the books you can fit in a shopping bag (just in case it rains, or you get bored), and you climb in the back of the car, already listening for the sound of the waves

It was late afternoon, and Alex was deep in his book as the car pulled into the motel parking lot. This was the second time he had read Stranger in a Strange Land, and although there were a lot of things he still didn't get, he loved the ideas; the language of it. Pulling himself out of the story reluctantly, he looked around. Crappy motel, scraggly trees, tiny playground. He opened the car door, and then he heard it. The music of the sea. Gulls, waves, the bells on the channel markers, boat horns, all combined into one sound. A siren song.

He dashed into the room as soon as his father opened the door, rooted around in his suitcase for his bathing suit, and ran into the bathroom to change. He grabbed a towel and his book and was flying out the door when his mother stopped him.

Alexei --

Mom, please -- it's Alex, okay?

Da, Alex, then. Don't go into the water unless there is a lifeguard. Promise me.

Mom, I'm thirteen now. I don't need --

Alexei.

Sigh. Yes, Poppa.

Mind your mother,

Yes, Poppa. Sorry, Mama. I promise, no swimming unless there's a lifeguard.

Good boy. Now, go.

He was out the door like a shot.

The day had been overcast, though warm, and as Alex ran past the long concrete building that housed the showers and changing rooms, he could see no one. He looked over the grassy dunes teeming with birds, the flat white sand full of pebbles and bits of broken shell. No lifeguard, no other swimmers. His promise to his mother weighed on him. He had a hard time lying to her, and if he was caught in a lie, the punishment would come from Poppa's belt. Not worth it, when he could wait until tomorrow. He toed off his sneakers, threw down his towel and book and walked to the water's edge. They couldn't possibly object if he waded in a bit, right? It wasn't really swimming.

As he walked in the gentle surf, the water lapping at his knees and sometimes splashing higher, he thought of his recent birthday. So, big deal, his first summer as an official teenager. Felt pretty much the same to him. Girls were starting to look at him differently, but so far, he saw nothing of any interest in them. And the noise of their giggly, screechy voices! It was usually more enjoyable to just stay in and read than to try to make any sense out of what they wanted from him.

Suddenly a brown and white streak of fur shot past him into the water. A voice yelled Mitzi! Come back here! Bad dog!

Alex looked and saw a kid his own age or maybe a bit older running down to the beach from the road. Hey -- catch her! Mitzi! NO!

Alex didn't think twice before diving into the water after the spaniel. Luckily, she decided he looked like a playmate, and swam over to him. He grabbed the trailing leash and tried to tow her back onto land. She wanted none of that, however, and he went under a couple of times before he felt the sand under his feet again. Keeping a firm grip on the leash, he dragged the reluctant dog over to her owner, who was dancing from foot to foot by the very edge of the water. He handed over Mitzi's leash, and then jumped back as she shook the water from her coat. Both boys laughed, until Alex began to cough from the water he had accidentally swallowed.

Hey, thanks, are you okay? I mean, I would have gone in too, except you looked like you had her under control; and, well, I'm not really dressed for swimming.

Swimming. Oh, jeez, look what he did. Alex groaned. My mom is gonna kill me.

Why? You've got your trunks on. What's the problem?

She made me promise no swimming. And now I'm all wet -- I can't lie to her. I mean, I've *tried*, but it never works. I'm dead.

Are you sure you can't get out of it? There's always a loophole if you look hard enough. What were her exact words?

Alex imitated his mother's accent flawlessly. Don't go in the water unless there is a lifeguard, Alexei. Promise me.

Aha! I have solved your problem. For before you stands -- ta-dah! -- the newest member of the Tri-Town Life Saving Squad.

Are you kidding?

Nope, I qualified last week. I don't start the job until Monday, but it's a fact. I am a lifeguard. And you are off the hook, my friend.

Oh, man that is *so* cool. They stood grinning at each other until Mitzi began to pull towards the water again.

Shoot, I've gotta get her home. You wanna go? It's just up the road.

Sure, why not? They stopped to pick up Alex's things, and he put his sneakers on his wet feet. Then they continued towards the stairs, the dog pulling Alex's new friend enthusiastically along.

Slow down, Mitzi! Dumb dog. So's that your name? Alexei? He wrapped his tongue around the syllables awkwardly.

Well, technically it's Alexander, but my mother calls me Alexei. It's kind of a baby name. I keep reminding her to call me Alex, but so far, it's not working.

Yeah, well, Alex is a cool name. So's Alexei, for that matter.

So what's yours?

Instead of answering directly, the boy looked down at his feet for a moment. Then he said, I really hate my name. It's a *stupid* name. I want to change it as soon as I'm old enough, but the problem is I don't know what I want to change it *to*.

Okay, well, what should I call you?

I dunno, I *really* can't think of anything. What do you think I look like?

Alex stopped walking and considered the question and the face before him. Brown hair parted on the side and flopping into the hazel eyes. Prominent nose, lopsided mouth

Hmm, maybeDaniel? NoMichael? No. I'll just keep trying until I find one you like, how's that?

Okay. I guess I can trust you to come up with something decent.

How aboutWalter?

Gag! No *way*! Get real, c'mon, don't do this to me, man.

Laughing and bumping each other from side to side, they walked down the side of the road. When they reached a large white house, Mitzi turned up the sidewalk to the front door and sat patiently while the door was opened and her leash was unclipped. She ran into the house, barking excitedly, and a voice called Thank you, dear! Tomorrow, then?

Sure, Mrs. Appleton. See you tomorrow! He shut the door and turned to walk back down the sidewalk to the road.

Wait, that's not your dog?

Nah, my mom won't let me get a dog. I walked Mitzi every day this week while Mrs. Appleton's son was at camp. She paid me five dollars to do it, but I'd have done it for nothing if she didn't. He looked wistfully back at the house. She's a great dog. Even if she *does* go in the water every chance she gets. Come on, let's go. Where are you staying?

Alex raised one finger. Ah, but how do you know I don't live here?

Well, for one thing I *know* everybody who lives here, and for another thing, if you *were* local, you wouldn't have been at Menemsha Beach, you would have been at Lambert's Cove, which is for residents only.

Brilliant deduction, Holmes. I'm staying at the Sandpiper Motel. And I probably should get back there before too long. So you live here year 'round? It looks like a really nice place.

Yeah, I guess. Hey, you're not naming me. Come on, man.

Clyde.

No.

Eugene.

No.

Brian.

N-- yeah. Brian. I can live with that. You may call me*Brian*.

Are you sure?

For now. I guess if I hate it, it's better to find out before it's legal, right?

Okay, 'Brian', let's go.

They ran off down the road together toward Alex's motel.

When they reached the door of the room, Alex turned to look at Brian. Okay, so He felt awkward, suddenly, not knowing where to put his hands or where to look.

Thanks for the help with Mitzi, I really appreciate it. Do you need me to be your alibi?

Nah, it'll be fine. Thanks anyway.

So, like, tomorrow, we could go to the beach. If you want to, I mean. I could like, pick you up here at nine, if you want?

Sound great. I'll see you then, I guess.

Yeah, well, bye, Alex.

Bye, Brian.

The next day dawned wet and rainy. Alex sat in the small coffee shop where his parents had brought him for breakfast and sulked. Now what was he going to do with his day? The bag of books he had brought held no interest for him. All he could think of was that he wouldn't see Brian. He had really had fun yesterday. The way Alex's family moved around, it was hard for him to make friends. But he and Brian had just clicked somehow. And now there was nothing else he wanted to do if he couldn't spend time with Brian. Stupid rain, he muttered.

They arrived back at the motel room a few minutes before nine, and Alex had no sooner gotten comfortable on his bed with his book when there was a knock at the door. His father answered it, and Alex heard a familiar voice say, Um, hi. Is Alex here?

He bolted for the door, and saw Brian in a yellow raincoat and boots like the guy on the fishsticks box. He tried not to laugh, but couldn't help it.

Brian was smirking under the hood of his raincoat. Shut up, jerk. I brought some for you, too. They're my old ones. Since we have to walk, my mom thought we should try to stay dry.

What are you talking about?

Well, we can't go to the beach, but I thought maybe you could come over to my house. We could watch tv or play a game or something. If you want to.

Alex looked at his mother with his best 'lost puppy' face, with just a touch of 'I wish I had a friend thrown in. It never failed. Two minutes later, they were on their way.

Brian led them through the woods, skirting back yards and sometimes climbing fences. At last they arrived at what Alex assumed was Brian's house. They entered through the back door, stopping to hang their rain-gear on hook in a small foyer. Leaving their boots on the mat, Brian led the way into the kitchen.

The house was silent. Where's your parents? asked Alex.

My mom has a dippy committee meeting all day today and my dad -- uh -- he doesn't live here anymore. He moved to West Tisbury.

Alex winced. Oh. Sorry.

It's okay. He was never around anyway, so it's not like I even miss him or anything. Come on, let's go up to my room.

Brian's room was the usual teenage hodge-podge of leftover childhood and coming adulthood. A stack of board games filled one shelf of a large bookcase. Above the games were stacks of comic books and MAD magazines. On the next shelf were dozens of paperbacks, with more stacked on top and on the desk beside the bookcase. Alex was impressed.

Wow, I think you have more books than *I* do. He suddenly realized this was kind of a dorky thing to say, and blushed. But Brian seemed to understand, and just grinned.

Not much else to do around here. I read a lot.

Yeah, well, so do I. Just -- some of my friends think it's kinda weird.

Sounds like you need new friends.

Alex snorted. The way we move around, I'm lucky to have the ones I got.

So what do you want to do? You're the guest, you get to pick.

Uh, I don't -- Alex felt a little odd. He was used to trying to fit in wherever he went, blending, never putting himself out in front for any reason. Now, all of a sudden his opinion was wanted. What if he picked wrong? Would Brian laugh at him? Or just decide he didn't want to hang out anymore? But if he didn't choose something, Brian would think that *Alex* didn't want to be here. So -- what? His gaze roamed over the stack of board games. Stratego? he guessed blindly.

When he looked at Brian, he could see he'd made the wrong choice. What's wrong?

Brian made a small noise, then straightened his shoulders. Nothing's wrong. But there's -- a piece missing.

Why don't you throw it out then?

Because I might find it. Someday I might *find* the missing piece, and then I'll be able to play it again. Okay? Brian's voice sounded curiously between anger and tears for a moment, and Alex tensed unaccountably. Just -- just pick another game, all right?

Sure. Um, Monopoly?

Brian smiled again. I get to be the racecar.

The awkward moment was over as quickly as it had begun. Alex shifted mental gears and shrugged. He didn't really think the problem was a missing game piece, but it was obvious that Brian didn't want to talk about it. So he'd play Monopoly.

Roll to see who's banker, he said.

After three hours they called it a draw and went to investigate the possibility of lunch. In the kitchen, eating bologna sandwiches and drinking Kool-Aid, they talked about books, and school, and inevitably, *girls*.

I just don't get them. It's like they always have to be with others of their kind. Like they share one brain between them. And some of the stuff they say, it's just stupid.

Alex nodded. Every once in a while I meet an intelligent one, but mostly they just ...aren't. It's kind of scary, how they seem to have some kind of secret language that no guy can ever hope to understand.

Yeah, well, who would want to, anyway? Brian finished his Kool-Aid and stood up. What next? I think it's gonna stop raining, maybe we could go down to the beach and look for stuff in a while.

Sounds good. But for now -- I dunno. What do you usually do when it rains?

Brian looked a little embarrassed. Actually, I read and listen to music.

Alex laughed. So do I. So why don't we?

Back in Brian's room, Alex headed straight for the stack of Mad magazines. This is so cool. My mom won't let me buy these. She thinks they're bad for me, or something.

My mom doesn't much notice. As long as I'm quiet, she leaves me pretty much to myself.

Wow, that sounds great.

Yeah, well, I guess.

Brian put an album on the turntable, and they sprawled on his bed, reading especially funny parts out loud to each other and snickering over the adventures of Spy vs. Spy. When Brian got up to turn the record over, he glanced out the window and noticed the rain had stopped, and the clouds were clearing. He was about to suggest that they leave for the beach when he looked at Alex. Really looked at him for a moment. And thought, what the hell.

Hey, Alex? Can I ask you something? I mean, don't like, freak out or anything, but -- uh -- did you ever kiss anybody? Like, not your family, but -- somebody else?

What, like a girl? No way.

Did you ever want to?

Not really. I can't think of any girls I'd *want* to kiss.

What about if it wasn't -- never mind. Let's go to the beach. It stopped raining, sometimes stuff washes up.

Alex was by now used to Brian's abrupt changes of subject, and followed him down the stairs. They put their boots back on and went out the back door.

Again they made their way through back yards and woods, emerging not far from the beach where they had met. And again the beach was deserted. They wandered along the water's edge, sometimes stopping to look at an interesting shell or piece of driftwood, until they reached some large rocks. Brian climbed on top of one and turned to give Alex a hand up. Then he jumped down the other side, into a clear area in the middle of the boulders.

The rocks were taller than the boys, and Alex leaned back against the tallest of them and looked up at the sky. He felt as though he were in some kind of faerie circle, or maybe another Stonehenge. He smiled to himself at his whimsy, and then looked at Brian to share his thoughts. What he saw made him forget any fanciful ideas he might have had. The fierce look in Brian's eyes --

Alex, you know what I asked you earlier? I've never kissed anybody before either. But I -- I want to --

And all Alex could manage to say was Yes.

Their lips met tentatively. Brian's hand came up to rest on Alex's shoulder, and the older boy leaned in to deepen the kiss.

Alex's arms stole around Brian's waist, before creeping up his back. He wasn't sure what he should be doing, but it felt so good just to hold Brian like this.

When Brian pulled away, Alex opened eyes he didn't remember closing. Brian was looking so intently at him, it was as though he wanted to imprint the moment onto his brain forever. I'm --, he began.

Alex leaned forward and captured Brian's mouth again. He could faintly taste the flavor of Kool-Aid from their lunch on the other boy's lips as he opened his own slightly. Don't say you're sorry, he said as he moved back. 'Cause I'm not.

No, I just -- I never --

Yeah, well now we both have. He felt Brian's laugh beneath his hands, still pressing against his back, and he chuckled himself.

So now what?

Heck, I don't know. This was your idea. I don't think I'm ready for -- anything else. I mean, I liked that, I really did. But it's just --

Yeah, I know. Brian sighed. When do you leave?

Tomorrow before lunch. My father wants to catch the noon ferry.

Oh. Darn.

Brian? Do you think we're -- The word wouldn't come out. I mean, I don't --I don't *feel* any different. But everything's changed, all the same.

Not everything. *You* haven't changed. You're still Alex. But now you're the Alex who kissed me. It doesn't change who you are inside. Does it?

No, I guess not.

So it means what it means. It felt good. I'd like to do it again, in fact. Doesn't mean I'm gonna wake up wantin' to wear a dress tomorrow.

Alex snorted. You'd make a fairly ugly girl, actually.

Thanks.

Their mouths met again, and this time it was more intense. Alex felt Brian's hands at his waist, pulling their bodies closer, and he gasped. As his lips parted, Brian's tongue snaked out to touch the tip of Alex's. It was like an electric shock. Alex's eyes flew open again, to see Brian's amused ones staring back.

What the heck was that?

I've been doing some research...

I guess you have.

...do you want to hear this or not?

Sorry.

And I read something called 'The Kinsey Reports,' and they talked about people being attracted to members of their own sex like it was normal. They didn't make any judgements about it, they just said it happens. And a lot of people are attracted to *both* sexes; and I guess the only way you know is if you *know*. If you meet someone, and...you just know.

So now we know?

Exactly.

So now ...what?

That I *don't* know.

And I have to leave.

Yeah. Hey, give me your phone number.

Alex did so, and Brian repeated it.

Write it down when you get home.

Don't worry, I never forget stuff like that.

So you gonna call me?

Yeah, why not?

Okay. I'd like that. I mean, I like talking to you.

Brian smiled and kissed Alex once more, briefly. We better get you back, your mom said before dinner, and it's getting late.

They walked back along the road, talking about nothing in particular. Occasionally as they walked their hands would brush, and Alex glanced sideways to see Brian looking at him. He blushed, and Brian smiled.

Back at the motel, there was another awkward moment.

Alex, I wish I could --

Yeah, me too. But not here, okay? My parents...

Okay, well, I'll try to stop by in the morning before you leave. My mom drags me to church with her, but I'll get away as soon as I can.

Okay. See you then.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

But he hadn't seen him again, not until this moment, standing in a crowded, noisy office with his hand held out to be shaken. Brian hadn't come to the motel the next morning before they had left, and Alex's father had been transferred again soon after they returned from their trip.

But Alex remembered.

...the taste of Kool-Aid...

...Hotel California playing on the turntable...

...and what it smelled like after the rain at Menemsha Beach.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

Cherry Blossom Days

People have told me how much they envy me my perfect memory. If they only knew...

Did they ever stop to think there are probably things I'd like to forget? Moments in time I don't want to keep? But I'm stuck with them all. Oh, they're not all right up front, that would make it impossible to function. But any little reminder, and I can recall the whole painful/embarrassing/horrifying incident, complete with smells, sounds and textures.

Of course, there are compensations. Good memories, to go with the bad ones. And the star of one of my favorite memories just walked up to my desk.

Agent Mulder, it's the 302 for the Grissom case. AD Skinner just approved it.

God, he looks like a geek. The hair -- I don't know what he's got it slicked back with, but he's used way too much of it. The suit's too big...he couldn't look worse if he was trying. The voice is different, of course. Low and a little gravelly. But his face is the same...I'd know the eyes anywhere. And the mouth....I look down at the file he's handed me.

There's been a mistake. Some other agent's been assigned to it.

That would be me.

I'm sure he doesn't remember me. It was only two days, eighteen years ago. Still, I stand up and shake the outstretched hand, hoping for a sign.

Krycek. Alex Krycek.

I always called him Alexei, in my mind. I knew he hated it, like I hated mine; but it was a private name, just for me. He called it a 'baby name', and maybe it was, to him. But I loved the exotic sound of it.

He was my first kiss, as I was his. One Saturday out of time on the Vineyard. Standing in a circle of rocks on Menemsha Beach. The last moment of our innocence, frozen in my mind forever. And maybe I idealize it now, looking back, but that's what memories are for, isn't it?

Fox Mulder, I say to him, and his eyes widen a bit. Yeah, it's a stupid name. He never knew it, either. I was toying with the idea of changing it, one really big up-yours for my old man, but it never went anywhere. Alexei named me Brian for that weekend. After he left, I didn't want to hear anyone else use that name. And at the same time, I couldn't just take another one. So I decided to make do with my last name. It works fairly well. I've never fit in anywhere, so not having a socially acceptable first name is just one small item on the laundry list of how odd I really am.

Right now, though, I want to hear him say it.

Agent Mulder?

Call me Fox, I say before I can talk myself out of it. Hell, anything's better than Spooky, right?

He grins, not like ha ha that's a funny name, but more like an amusing memory surfaced. Maybe he does remember. Maybe he's frantically trying to think of a way out of this room right now, without giving up the 302 he's offered to share. After all, the phone number he gave me was no good.

I forced myself to wait two weeks before I called, mostly because of how badly I wanted to hear his voice. One thing I did know about the scary world of dating is you should never seem eager. And then I finally dialed, fingers shaking like you wouldn't believe, and got a recorded voice telling me The number you have reached is not in service at this time. I moped around the house for weeks, cursing myself for being so gullible. And still wanting to hear his voice. What if it was a mistake? Maybe I got the number wrong...I hoped so badly that, just this once I had forgotten something. I tried variations of the number, transposing digits one at a time, for another two weeks before I gave up.

Of course, the good that came from that is that my mother finally allowed me to get a dog. I think she was really worried about me. So I got a little beagle puppy I named Fred. God, I loved him. And he loved me, too. The first time since Sam was gone that I felt that. Somebody who loved me, no matter what I did. Looking back on it, with the magnifying glass of my Oxford education, that dog probably saved me. Such a small thing, really. Love.

So here we are again, and I'm still looking for a sign he knows me. I can't go first. I can't go back out on that limb. I've almost sawed through it already, and the fall would probably shatter me. But if he could just talk me down, I'd climb out of this fucking tree, and stand on the ground again.

It's funny, he says, with a glint in his eye that I don't quite know how to take.

What?

You don't look like a 'Fox.' You look more like a 'Brian' to me. And he smiles, that same sweet smile I remember.

My body goes hot, then cold. The blood stops moving, and I swear it reverses direction in my veins. Breathe. NOW.

I tried to call, I hear myself saying. The number was disconnected.

My dad got transferred. Again. We moved to New Mexico.

Oh.

We should talk.

Yeah. Jesus, Mulder, you have a degree in...something, I can't recall just what...and a two-word vocabulary. What the hell is wrong with you? But I know. I'm drowning in memories, I can't stop them, it's overwhelming me like a tide.

No, I mean -- we really need to talk. But not here. I'll go get us a car, okay? Meet me in the garage.

He looks a little worried now. Actually, he looks a lot worried. What, is he afraid I'll blow the whistle, tell all and sundry about our teen-age romance? Like that wouldn't ruin my career too.

Calm down, Spooky, you're hyperventilating. Jumping to conclusions again. Hear what he has to say before you decide how to react.

That sounded like Scully. She thinks it's cute to call me 'Spooky' sometimes. She always knows how to rein me in before I jump off the deep end. Mixed metaphors aside, she was the best partner I could have had. Doesn't freak out when I tell her things I'd never tell another soul. And for a good Catholic girl/Navy brat, she's surprisingly cool about my sexuality. Of course, in the last couple of years since we met that's been pretty much theoretical anyway. But things are looking up, on that score anyway.

I don't think that 'They' realized that by splitting us up, they cut me loose from the anchor that keeps me grounded. I'm not really much for self-analysis (hah), but I do know that, like all children, I need limits. They thought I would stop investigating my X-Files without her? Right. She was the only one who could make me stop. Skinner doesn't have a prayer.

Meanwhile, as I stand here maundering, Alexei is downstairs probably thinking I ditched him. I head for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. Whatever he has to say, I'll listen gladly. If only to hear his voice again.

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~

By the time I get to the parking garage, he's parked by the elevator with the passenger door open waiting for me. Now would be the time to tell him that I drive, I am not driven. Well, what I mean is -- see, Scully never drove. But he's looking a little impatient, so I just get in. Fine, I'll be a passenger for a change. It doesn't bother me at all. Much.

As he pulls out onto the street, I turn in my seat and look at him. He looks so different now, so serious and grown-up. Alex, I can't believe this. The odds of this happening have got to be -- astronomical. How long have you been with the Bureau?

Not very long. A little over a year. Is there somewhere around here we can get coffee and sit? Like I said - we need to talk.

I direct him to an illegal parking space that's a favorite of mine -- it's great to have immunity from things like that. So we're not officially investigating right now. Your point is? I put the little card on the dash -- the one that says 'FBI Official Business', and lead the way to the nearest Starbucks. I know them all. This one has a courtyard out back that only the regulars know about. This time of day, it should be empty. Because no one in his right mind wants to sit outdoors in DC in August. Did you know that, because of the appalling heat and humidity in the summer, it was at one time classified as a hardship post for foreign ambassadors? True story.

We order our coffee -- thanks be to whoever, he doesn't go for any of that nonsense they try to peddle here. Large, black. Thank you. No, don't tell me what kind of day to have, either. But the coffee's good.

Outdoors to the courtyard, and it's empty, as I knew it would be. No, I'm NOT psychic; I'm just very good at predicting human nature. The tables are tiny, just big enough for a couple of cups and maybe a plate of muffins or cookies. But the seats are those circular benches that give you some space to relax. I let him choose the table and sit, then I sit next to him.

He looks at me, surprised that I didn't choose the opposite side, as most people would. That 'personal space' issue defines what we do more than we know. I try to combat it whenever possible. It works well when interrogating a suspect, puts them on edge. Right now, though, it's meant to convey interest in him -- both personal and professional. I need for him to feel like I'm focused totally on him. Which shouldn't be too hard, because running through the back of my head all this time is the instant replay of that kiss. I'd really like to try it again. Does he feel it too?

All right, Alex, we're out of the car. We have coffee, we're sitting. Time to talk. Is this about the case? Or is it personal? Because either way, I'm all ears.

It's not about the case. Not directly, anyway. He's opening the coffee, trying to peel back the lid and get it to stay in place. Killing time, avoiding looking at me. I put my hand on his shoulder, and he stiffens, then moves away. Shit. Okay, so he doesn't feel like that about me. I guess I can cope with that. Maybe. But right now, the pain in my gut and the flush on my cheeks are competing with the pounding in my ears. And my hand is still outstretched, hovering. I pull it back quickly, grab it with my other hand so it won't feel so lonely. Just tell me, I say. My voice is uneven, and I flinch at the sound of it. Are you - are you seeing someone? Married?

What? No, that's - Fox, it's not about that. I didn't come here to dig up the past. Hell, I didn't even know who you were. I can't even believe you remember me; it was - what? Eighteen years ago? We were kids.

I have a very good memory, Alex. And there's some stuff that you never forget. Like your first kiss.

He blushes, and I know he's definitely remembering now. Good.

Okay, well, it's still not about that. I've been trying to think of how to approach this. It's not something I ever thought I'd be doing when I started out, but - shit. I don't want to do this. If there were any other choice - are you aware that you've made some enemies, Fox?

I gape at him. Fish-eyed stare, mouth open; very attractive. Where are you going with this, Alex? What do you know about my enemies?

I need to start at the beginning of it. Although it's hard to know exactly where that is, looking back. Part of it goes back to the Academy, I suppose. He turns toward me, his knee almost touching mine. I can feel it twitching; he's nervous.

Did you know you're practically a course there? I didn't know it was you, but I've been following your work ever since I first heard about it. We used to get together at night, when we weren't so exhausted we couldn't stand up, and talk about stories we'd heard from 'The Real World' - the Bureau. Somebody brought your name up early on, said you were a brilliant profiler, but you freaked people out with your weird theories about aliens and the paranormal. Already had your own unit at Headquarters. The lines were quickly drawn between pro- and anti- Mulderites.

He shifts again, withdraws his knee and stretches out his legs. Toys with the lid of his coffee cup again. There were some of us who really admired your work, Fox. More than you probably know about, anyway. He peeks up at me again. Why is he so nervous? I know I have a bizarre reputation at the Academy. It actually suprises me more that there were so many people defending me.

Anyway, after graduation, I was assigned to the New York office.

I make a face. He nods.

Yeah, I don't know how I got so lucky. I had put in a request to be assigned to the X-Files. I knew I had no chance of course, but I wanted to get on paper that I was interested when a spot came open. I figured I'd put in a few years here and there in Criminal Investigations, learning the ropes and getting field experience. I wanted to stay on the East Coast - but New York! The place they send you for punishment...and I was fresh out of Quantico, no black marks, and I far as I knew, no enemies. So I was feeling a bit resentful. Subsequent events have led me to believe I was posted there with a purpose in mind - but that's getting ahead of my story.

One of the agents in the office...she - ah - found me attractive. It was a little awkward, I kept trying to be diplomatic; and then after about a month of invitations, I just told her I wasn't interested. The next day, it was all over the office that I was gay.

Alex...

Don't interrupt, okay? I don't much like telling this story, and if you get me off track, I may not be able to get back on. Just listen.

So then it was extremely awkward, because I don't care what the handbook says about it, there is very little tolerance for queers in the FBI. At least, in the New York office. But getting transferred never happens when you want it to. I figured I could stick it out; show them I was just the same as they were. Of course, that never works.

Empathy is not always my strong suit, but I can just imagine the hell that must have been. Coming out by choice is scary enough, being outed with malice aforethought (hell hath no fury, after all) when you're already the 'new kid' - wow. And from what he's said, he's been 'the new kid' most of his life. Damn.

I kept getting sent to work with the local PDs, and actually made a few good contacts. Either they hadn't heard the news, or they were a lot more open-minded than my colleagues, because we worked pretty well together. I even halfway considered quitting the Bureau and going to work for the NYPD. But you would not believe what a cop gets paid in that city. I still have student loans to pay off.

After a year of this bullshit, I was summoned to the SAC's office. He introduced me to a man who said he had a special assignment for me. Would I be interested in a transfer? I nearly fell over my tongue trying to say 'yes' fast enough. I didn't even care what the assignment was, because there was nothing worse than where I was. I could not have been more wrong.

I don't like what I'm thinking here. But how naive can you get? There's a reason 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' is a cliche, Alex...

He took me to an office in Manhattan. There was a group of old men there and the man who had brought me led me into the room as if I was on display at a meat market. I got a little nervous then, but it seems they were really only interested in you. More specifically, how to shut down your investigations into the X-Files.

I can't believe what I'm hearing. I was RIGHT! I want to stand on the table and scream it at the top of my lungs: I'm not paranoid, there's a fucking *conspiracy*! But wait. He knows this because...he's a part of it.

Son of a bitch. Now what do we do? I know they don't mind killing; Deep Throat is proof of that. I have to get him out somehow, and without causing them to suspect him of double- (or is it triple?) dealing. So he needs to do this job for them. But what they want is for me to drop the X-Files. My search for Sam. Which ain't gonna happen. And we're right back to 'son of a bitch.'

What are you going to do?

Jesus, Fox, I don't know. They told me you were dangerous, for God's sake. They told me you couldn't be trusted and that you were going to ruin some very carefully laid plans with your investigations. No one could control you; you ran wild, ignored your AD and your partner. I was supposed to get close to you and figure out a weakness, something that they could hold over you to make you give up.

And now?

What do you mean?

Well, I've already come on to you once. You obviously know of at least one thing they could hold over me.

How can you say that? After what happened to me I would never out anyone.

Sorry.

No, really. You have to believe this, Fox. There is no force on the planet that could make me use that against you or anybody.

Oh.

And I...I wasn't upset about...when you put your hand on my shoulder. I just - well, it was hard for me to tell you all that. I feel like an idiot now. And I don't want you to think I was rejecting you, exactly, but how can I hope to have anything with you when I have this thing hanging over my head? Do you understand?

Dammit, I did it again. I am the poster-child for paranoia. But he's looking right at me, daring me to believe in him. Daring me to take a leap of faith and trust him, an almost total stranger. And it's strange; I do want to trust him. Quite possibly it's my libido speaking to me; but my brain doesn't usually give up all control, so I have to go with how I feel.

All right, Alex, I'm sorry. This is a bit of a shock, you know? Finding out that I've actually been barking up the right tree for a change is a little unnerving. Give me a chance, okay?

I try my most winning smile on him, and it works a little. A thought occurs to me. Alex, I may have jumped to a bit of a conclusion just now. Uh, you do want out of this, right?

Hell, yes. But I realized about five seconds after I walked into that meeting that it was too late to say 'no thanks' and walk away. I've been having second thoughts ever since. And now that I know it's you, -- I just don't know how to do this and not lose everything.

It's okay, we'll figure something out. Two smart guys like us ought to be able to come up with a plan...

He looks at his watch. Yeah, well, meanwhile there's the little matter of the Grissom case. Come on, we need to get going.

Shit. My case. The one I've been hounding Skinner about. Oh yeah. I never used to get distracted. This is A Bad Thing. He's halfway to the car before I've even stood up.

Back in the car, I grab the file and open it. I read the pertinent facts, of which there are damn few, as Alex drives. The crime scene's not worth going to, it's already been gone over and I'm sure the cleaning lady's been through it - no evidence of foul play means no reason to preserve the scene. But the 911 tape is evidence of something, and it's still an unexplained death. I'm itching to get started on this case, but -

I thought we'd start by checking out Grissom's lab, Fox.

What? I mean, yeah, that makes sense. We have to start somewhere, and I have no better suggestions.

Okay, I booked two seats on the 2 pm flight to La Guardia, so get a move on.

I look around and realize we've stopped in front of my apartment building. How did he -- How did you know where I lived?

He raises an eyebrow. Fox, remember who you're talking to. I'm a trained investigator. It's in your personnel file.

Which is supposed to be confidential.

Yeah, well, you weren't supposed to know about it. Did you know that the picture makes you look like Richard Gere?

From your mouth to God's ear. So why are we outside my apartment?

He's speaking very slowly, like you would to a child. Don't you want to pack for the trip? We're going to New York.

I used to be a trained investigator too. I used to have a brain.

I live about three blocks from here. You go pack and I'll come back for you.

Okay. I get out of the car and watch him drive away. How did he get to be in charge? What did I miss? Damn.

I always keep a bag packed ready to go in the closet, all I need to do is put a couple of suits in a garment bag and I'm ready. While I'm waiting I remember to call Scully. I try to think of a name she'll recognize and come up with 'George Hale,' a blast from the recent past. It takes a little convincing and a promise of a really nice dinner, but she agrees to fly up to New York too and do the autopsy on Grissom. We'll meet at the morgue after I get done at Grissom's lab in Stamford. I don't tell her about Alex yet, I figure that can wait until she meets him. They should get along great.

I run across the hall to leave a note for my neighbors that I'll be gone for a couple of days. They're really great people, very friendly. They don't mind keeping an eye on things while I'm out of town.

I hear a car horn in the street and head downstairs. Sure enough, he's back. I'm still not driving. We have to figure this out. I'll try the indirect approach.

Y'know, Alex, I usually drive.

Really? Well, this will be a nice change for you then, won't it? He smiles. I think I'm in over my head.

Just get us to the airport.

On the plane, he's very quiet. I'm studying the case file again, but I feel him studying me. I have to say something; he's looking even more worried now that it's out, this big secret that could have destroyed me. Alex, I can't think about this right now. We'll get through this case, figure out what killed Dr. Grissom, and then we'll deal with Them. And Us. But I need to concentrate on Grissom now, okay? Damn, that sounded a little condescending, didn't it. But he shrugs and just leans back and closes his eyes for the rest of the flight.

End

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