Out of the Frying Pan

by Emily and Dr. Ruthless

Rated: A Slash

Warning: All kinds of nasty things happen to our heroes.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Fox and to 1013. We are not receiving payment for abusing them.

Beta: Thank you to Pic for a beta so thorough she practically earns a co-writing credit, and to Candace for her extremely fine beta. The mistakes that are left belong to us.

Series: 1. For Services Rendered, 2. Future Perfect , 3. What You Get For Loving Me , 4. Out of the Frying Pan, 5. Into the Fire, 6. Present Tense, 7. Extremis

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

Krycek walked into the suite, looking gratefully at the opulent surroundings. He noted a Jacuzzi and large bed. Man, was he tired! He walked over and flopped on the bed.

"C'mere, little cub. Let me hold you... let me love you." He was grateful Dustin seemed to have calmed down again. The boy was more mercurial than he first thought. He liked that. He bit his lip, hoping if he distracted Dustin enough, he wouldn't ask any tough questions.

Dustin sighed, and gratefully shucked his clothes, folding them neatly prior to stalking over to the bed and sitting on the edge of it.

"Gonna tell me about it now, Alex, or are you gonna try and keep me under by fucking me? I need to know."

"C'mere and find out." Alex sighed, and reached over to stroke Dustin's back. "You're so beautiful, Dustin. Have I ever told you that?" He needed to tell Dustin, but god, he didn't want to. He wished Dustin would ask him a direct question. It'd be easier for him. Darned if he could resist Dustin's good looks, though. He pulled him closer.

Dustin sighed heavily, and lay down beside Alex.

"You say that I'm beautiful. It's all narcissism though, isn't it?" He offered his mouth to a kiss, and then pulled away and looked at Alex. "What are you afraid of, Alex?"

Alex kissed Dustin hungrily, and was hurt when he pulled away.

"Narcissism? No, pet... it's not" He tried to kiss him again, but Dustin pulled back, holding his gaze. "What am I afraid of? At the moment? Losing you, one way or the other. Just when I've found someone I can trust... to lose him. That's a scary thing."

"Word games, Alex. Tell me who threatens, and why you are afraid of them. Tell me where you came from. Tell me how I can help you, and what you're going to do. Don't leave me here, defenseless. If you love me, tell me." Dustin could sense the warring thoughts chasing through Alex's mind. If he would just give a little

"I'd never leave you defenseless, Dustin." Alex sighed. "Okay. I told you I was in Russia, sub to Sergei... he broke me. But I found a fire, a will to break away. It's what kept me alive on those long, cold nights when I hurt all over. Just as I thought Sergei was going to let me go, the man above me in the Consortium... killed him. Took me back to DC and he... picked up where Sergei left off." He knew Dustin would leave him now, and he rolled away, tensing.

"This man. He's the threat?" Dustin traced a forefinger idly down Alex's spine, from the nape of his neck with its dusky fine hair, down over the broad shoulders and strong back to the little patch of golden, silky hair that grew at the join of buttock to back. When Alex shuddered, he stooped to kiss the place.

"Why don't you kill him?" The inquiry was mild, and Dustin began to caress Alex gently as he asked his innocent questions.

Alex sighed. If he only knew...

"Do you know how many times I've tried?" Alex snorted. "He tried to kill me once... but now I think he believes death would be too good, if you know what I mean." He tensed under Dustin's touch, not feeling worthy of such kindnesses. Alex was usually the strong one, but he felt very weak now.

Dustin rolled him over and straddled him, running his hands over the broad chest.

"What am I to be aware of? Just what will this man do? He is only a man, after all." He stretched out over Alex, pressing his body against the man beneath. "Tell me how to act, Alex."

"'Act'? Dustin, what the fuck are you talking about?" Alex looked past Dustin's shoulder with a dark gaze. "'Aware of'? If I have anything to say about it, you and this man will never, ever meet. So don't worry about it." As Dustin pressed his body against him, Alex stroked his back and softened his voice. "I'll get away, pet. I will. Then you and I will be free... forever..." He pulled Dustin in for a kiss. "I just... every time I've tried... but my love for you... I feel I can do anything."

"Alex, don't you see, you're wiping it out of your mind and putting me at risk by denying me information." Dustin leaned to kiss Alex, trying hard to convey the urgency he was feeling. "I'm afraid, Alex. I don't want to be afraid. Let me help. At least let me know what's going on."

Alex tensed again. He wanted to tell him; hell, he needed to tell him.

"Will you still love me?" Alex asked, need and longing in his voice. "I'm afraid you won't want me if you find out about him. Because of what he uses me for... makes me do."

Dustin began to laugh. He couldn't stop. The things he had been through in the past day or so rose up before him, and he couldn't keep the laughter inside. He was aware that Alex was regarding him strangely, and that somehow made things even more amusing.

"I'm sorry. It's just that" he laughed again, fresh paroxysms that made his body shake. "Why don't you be honest with me, Alex? I was a liar once, and lost a lover. It cut me up then, but now I can see what she meant. Tell me the worst. Try me."

Alex pushed Dustin off him and rolled away. "How can you laugh, Dustin? This isn't something to laugh about." He sat up abruptly, looking at Dustin. "If you won't be serious about this... maybe I should just go... throw them off your trail and run far."

Dragging himself to his feet Dustin stood and looked at Alex. "No, don't bother," he said, coldly. "If you'd rather run out on me than explain what the problems are, I think I'll just go home and let things take their course. I hope you find someone who doesn't mind the mushroom treatment. Too bad, Alex. I really " He turned away and began pulling on his clothes. "I loved you."

"Dustin!" Alex panicked and fought for control. "No... Dustin. I need you. Need you so much... please. Come back. Come back... I'll tell you. I... I'll tell you, I promise. I love you. I'll love you even if... and... You can't go home, Dustin. They'll be... oh, god. Please don't leave me. I love you."

Dustin continued, methodically putting on his clothes. "You know why I feel like a mushroom, lover? You keep me in the dark, and you feed me shit. Would you care to remedy that?" He sat on the edge of the bed, and turned to face Alex as he fastened his shoes.

"Dustin... what do you mean? All I want is you. Stop. How can I remedy that?" Fuck it! He suddenly grabbed Dustin and threw him on the bed. "I won't lose you because of my foolish pride, or whatever. But you gotta... hell... come here." He kissed Dustin roughly, trying desperately to regain control of the situation, unsure when he'd lost it.

Dustin wanted Alex's arms around him, but if he gave in now, he knew that Alex would never respect him again, and that he probably wouldn't respect himself either. "One last chance," he managed, once he'd succeeded in breaking the kiss. "Tell me, you just tell me, please."

"Okay." Alex sighed raggedly. "He... he wants me to be... his pet. I am his pet. But I gotta break free. I can't live like this... I hate him, Dustin. I need to break away. There... I've said it. I'm running from my master. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Alex hung his head, ashamed. "Tell me what you want to know. What did you mean when you asked me how to act?" Alex looked at Dustin curiously.

"I want to know whether to turn and fight along with you, or whether to give in. I don't want to sit around and not know what kills me until it's too late and I'm dying. I want to be there for you, and I can't if you treat me like your lapdog. Give me a gun, Alex." Dustin flung himself down beside Alex again. "You don't have to be alone.

Alex smiled, remembering what Dustin had told him about the last time he'd held a gun. Still, he was flattered that Dustin would want to look out for him. No one else had ever looked out for him, and he had always pretty much been on his own.

"I just... you're my cub, Dustin. I don't want anyone to hurt you. But I understand... hell, in your place I'd feel the same." He bit his lip. "We are a pair, aren't we?" He looked at Dustin, an idea forming in his mind -- an understanding. One that he felt he could accept. "You want to be my partner... like a team?" he asked softly.

"I can't be with you and be less, Alex." Dustin relaxed against him for the first time since his phone had sounded earlier that night. "I know that you understand more, but you can teach me. I can defend you the way that you defend me."

Alex wrapped an arm around Dustin. "I... no one's ever... I've always been... I think I could learn to really like that, Dustin... and I hope... that you'll enjoy it, too." He'd seen little bits of predator in Dustin - it had turned him on. He wanted to see more. "I love you so much... I hope I can do this and not hold back, or be overprotective. Will you help me not to do that, Dustin?"

Dustin didn't answer in words, merely turning his face to Alex in that way he had, inviting kisses and more. Alex began to undress him yet again and Dustin allowed it, arching into his touch as he revealed each new patch of skin, offering it for worship by Alex's talented mouth and even more skilled hands.

Alex took Dustin's shirt from his shoulders reverently, aware of how close he had come to losing his love. He'd never loved anyone like this before. Dustin made all his other "loves" seem mere diversions. He licked Dustin's neck, the hollow of his throat, down to his collarbone. He moved lower, sucking at Dustin's nipples, teasing them as he moved to unzip Dustin's fly. "I - Oh... baby... you... please..." Alex mumbled around the smooth skin of his lover.

Alex couldn't think, and he didn't want to. He'd been on emotional roller coaster all night, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to lie safely in Dustin's arms. Yes, Alex Krycek admitted to himself, he wanted someone to take care of him at times. Someone who'd help him forget his fears and the world. Someone to be his rock. He sighed happily. "I feel safe with you, Dustin..."

Dustin held Alex tight. He knew that the victory he'd won that night was something that would always be with him. He kissed Alex again and again, offering his body in the only way he could think of to make amends. Spreading his legs wide and sluttish, he invited Alex to complete what had been so rudely interrupted earlier that evening.

"Love me, Alex. Fuck me, please."

Alex smiled. As he kissed Dustin, he felt strong again - Dustin moved under his touch, moaning and sighing. When Dustin had asked Alex to fuck him, it felt as though he were home again... he had his love, and his love needed him. He ran a hand over Dustin's ass.

"Yeah? You want me?" Alex asked teasingly. "Let me love you first." He realized he didn't have any lube at hand. He scooted down and began to lick at Dustin's asshole, first probing lightly with his tongue, then running it softly over Dustin's rosebud, teasing him and making him shudder before pressing lightly, gaining entrance and licking him out, first slowly and lightly, then more fervently. He took Dustin's weeping cock in his hand and began to stroke it.

"How do you want it, lover?"

"Hard I need it hard, please." Already, Dustin had raised his legs and was waiting for Alex to enter him. "That plug You were right. It keeps sending messages to me. It makes me want youwant it. In the car, earlier, it was incredible. If I hadn't been so scared of your driving I think I'd have come just from the sensations the engine was producing."

Alex moved swiftly between Dustin's legs, hoisting them up roughly and placing Dustin's ankles on his shoulders. He stared down at Dustin, darkly. "You look like a slut, Dustin. Do you know that?" He drew back his right hand, suddenly, and slapped Dustin's ass, hard.

Dustin snickered. "No shit, Alex? A slut, huh? I can be that for you." He pressed his heels down onto Alex's shoulders, bringing his pelvis up closer to Alex's face. "See this cock? This cock wants you. It needs you to stroke it. See it?" He wriggled enticingly. "And my ass? It's waiting, Alex. Take that little plug out and make me feel good."

Krycek yanked on Dustin's ankles.

"Mmm. There. I want you all tied up. You're being such a brat, Dustin. Not like you at all. You need to relearn some manners, my boy." Alex didn't know where this cheekiness had come from but it turned him on -- and off. He dropped Dustin from his shoulders, bent to pick him up and flipped him over, roughly. "I think I should take you... take you like this. Hands and knees, Dustin. My little slut."

There was power in this submission to his lover. Dustin could feel Alex's hands tremble as he positioned him, and he smiled, wriggling his bottom in a lewd gesture that made Alex gasp audibly. He reached back to part his own ass cheeks, offering himself to Alex like the slut he'd been named.

"Do you like what you see? Alex?"

"Fuck, Dustin..." Alex caressed his asshole lightly, then slapped Dustin again. "Slut."

He gripped Dustin's cock, feeling his anger at his uppity pet building along with the lust. "Don't talk back, boy." Alex felt into Dustin's ass, roughly pulling the butt plug out, growling as he did so. Taking his own cock in his hand, hard as it had ever been, he put the tip to Dustin's anus. He paused for a moment. No lube, dammit! But then his anger drove him on, and he grabbed Dustin's hips, drawing him back as he thrust himself into Dustin's asshole, holding him tight, before starting to thrust roughly. "You want it rough like this, slut?"

Filled! He was filled to bursting, and he knew then that Alex was in the palm of his hand. Alex craved him - craved this to a degree that was all consuming. Dustin was only just beginning to learn that all he would ever need to do to keep Alex was to offer himself like this. That thought alone helped him to bear the initial discomfort of Alex's unlubricated entry. As Alex began to move, his secretions, coupled with the grease that remained from their earlier session, assisted the flowering of sweet sensation. Alex ploughed him, rough and masterful, and he melted.

"Answer me, boy!" Alex slapped Dustin's ass, and thrust harder, while grabbing his cock roughly. He wanted Dustin to call to him to stop, to go easy, to hold him... or at least that's what Alex expected him to do. When he didn't, he thrust harder and faster, jerking Dustin's cock, as well. "You're just a slut, boy. That's all. Tell me how you love it."

He gasped, grabbing Dustin's shoulders and pulling him back, so he was almost sitting, and bit his neck and shoulders. "My slut..." He pushed harder, faster, trying to make Dustin cry out.

Dustin arched as he felt the heat of Alex's desire batter him.

"Fuck, Alex! Do it to me. I'm your slut. Do it!" He could feel himself coming, and there was no way he could hold it off. All he could do was ride it, as Alex fucked him.

Krycek scooped up Dustin's cum in his hand, bringing it to his pet's lips even as he kept thrusting.

"Here, slut. Drink this." He kept thrusting, an arm around Dustin as he felt his own orgasm fast approaching. Presently he shoved Dustin back down on the bed, and propped himself up on his hands for leverage. He bit Dustin's shoulder, then started fucking him as hard and fast as he could, seeming to slam straight through him into the oblivion of orgasm as he exploded deep inside Dustin. He gave one last thrust that he held, emptying himself all the way. He thrust a few more times, and fell onto his love, spent.

Gasping, Dustin lay, feeling the warmth and strength of his lover against him. After a minute or two, he groaned a little.

"Alex? Hey, you're kinda heavy " Dustin squirmed out from under Alex and rolled to put his arms around him. "God, that was good." He felt himself falling to sleep. The day had been wild.

"Good." Alex was tired from the afterglow and the stress of it all. He brushed a hand over Dustin's forehead as he felt himself drifting off towards sleep. "Pet? I didn't... hurt you, did I?" Oh, come on, Alex, he thought. You know you did... and you wanted to hurt him.

"Hurt me?" Dustin's voice was muzzy. "Not really. Love you" His voice trailed away, and he began to snore.

"Love you, too, babe," Alex husked, snuggling in and drifting off as well. "More than you'll ever know..."

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

Alex woke up the next morning feeling as though his body had been through World War III. The events of the previous night came back to him, and he glanced at Dustin. His body? What about Dustin's? He reached out to caress his love.

"Morning, baby."

Dustin awoke to find Alex blinking at him. He stretched, and everything started to hurt. What the - ?

Oh, yeah! He blushed. He'd been so damned eager last night

"Alex, hi." He felt his cheeks coloring up and writhed inwardly.

Alex stroked Dustin's cheek. "Are you okay, little cub?" He smiled. He wished he didn't have to leave Dustin this morning, but he had to see Mackey. He rubbed Dustin's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry if I got carried away last night." Treated him like Mackey, is what you did. The thoughts ran through his head, madly chasing each other. Now he'll get angry and leave, and you know you deserve it.

Blushing beet red, Dustin tried to turn his face away, imagining that Alex would be horrified at the way he had behaved.

"Guess you think that I was a little bit over the top last night, huh?" Dustin mumbled. "It's just that the fear and the ride, and the stimulation -- you turned me on so much, Alex." He lowered his lashes, veiling his eyes to hide the anxiety that he knew was shining there within them.

"I ..." Alex was at a loss for words. "I didn't mean to... do you so rough. I love you... yeah, last night ... but that's how my life is. I guess I have to let you choose, now that you know... whether that's a life you want." He tensed, waiting for the axe to fall.

Dustin laughed softly. Then he turned to wrap his arms around Alex, offering his mouth to be kissed, holding his breath as he waited for Alex to accept it, and him.

"Guess it's too late really," Dustin finally admitted. "I want you now. I want you however I can get you. Just don't hide things from me."

Alex smiled, a broad, genuine smile that touched his eyes.

"I... love you too, little cub. You know that... right? Couldn't be without you." He leaned in to the kiss, Opening his mouth, he devoured Dustin's, licking at his lips to part them, slipping his tongue in to caress Dustin's teeth and gums. He flicked his tongue over the roof of Dustin's mouth and drank his essence, wanting to have this moment forever.

Moaning as Alex claimed him, Dustin gave himself over to kisses that were deep and perfect, which made him shiver. He reached to touch Alex's cock, finding it filling rapidly as he took it in his hand and stroked it firmly, feeling his own cock swelling in response.

Can someone die from too much sex? Dustin thought to himself.

Alex licked his way down Dustin's chest, tugging at his nipples and rolling his tongue over them. Going down farther, he licked Dustin's navel briefly, then went still lower. Taking him in his mouth, he kissed the sweet head of his pet's cock, and then went back, to his rosebud, and began flicking his tongue over it, and in it. It was still tight after all it had been through.

"You can't get enough, can you, baby?" Alex husked.

For Dustin, this was bliss. Someone to love him, someone who cared about him, rather than about the work he could give them, was a treasure. Alex was creating sensations in him that he'd never felt, and he was becoming addicted.

"Enough? Is it possible to have enough, Alex? I need everything you can give me." He moved his hands down and spread his ass cheeks again, the way he had the previous night, groaning as Alex's tongue played in and around his asshole, while his cock rose to pulse and drip.

Alex chuckled. "Sweet baby..." The sight of Dustin's ass open for him - for him! - was too much for Alex. His cock leapt to attention, and he shifted his body, still licking Dustin out as he clambered to his knees, stroking himself. He put his cock at Dustin's entrance, then met Dustin's eyes. "Is this what you want, baby? Tell me what you want." He loved to hear Dustin say it... he stroked Dustin's balls to encourage his pet.

Touches like fire made Dustin whimper.

"Fuck me. Please, do it to me. I need you." He lay, wide open to this man who knew how to make him feel so good, and who said that he loved him. "Promise me that you'll keep on loving me? I really need you, Alex."

Keep on loving him? Alex couldn't see a viable alternative. He smiled, and twisted his hips, sliding into Dustin easily.

"Oh, my love, my cub..." As the sweet warmth and tightness of Dustin enveloped him, he leaned his head back in his ecstasy. "Oh, my sweet..." Alex began pumping slowly, but then sped up. He wanted to take his time loving his Dustin, but he couldn't... soon he'd have to leave. Still, he would enjoy the moment, and be thankful for what he had. He leaned down to caress Dustin's neck and face. "I need you, too, baby. You're my light... my reason to keep going..."

The familiar sensations began to fizzle along Dustin's loins as Alex stroked in and out of him, white and prickling lightning along the base of his spine, and the length of his dick. He didn't need much this morning, his cock spurting seed that splattered along his belly as Alex fucked him, and not even requiring a touch. His orgasm was sweet, and long, and easy as drawing breath. He gasped as Alex slid home inside him and mumbled a thank you.

Alex stroked Dustin's chest, on the verge of his own orgasm. He leaned forward, pulling Dustin up for a kiss, sweet and lingering, as he released himself deep inside his love. When he felt his cock hit Dustin's prostate, he grinned. It felt like... it was right, natural. Like he belonged there. After he came, Alex collapsed forward onto Dustin, cradling his head in his hands. "Sweet boy! My little cub. Believe me, I'd stay with you if I could. Just holding you like this... but we have much to do today, and Marita will be here soon."

Recovering from Alex's lovemaking was something to be savored. Dustin ached in every part of his body, and he still tingled from the orgasm he'd just had. He pulled Alex to him to kiss him, learning the texture of his face with eager lips.

"You do me so well. I don't know how I ever got by, Alex," he murmured, voice throaty with passion satisfied. "I'm learning things from you that I never knew existed were possible."

"Yeah?" Alex husked. "Maybe I can teach you more. Did you mean it, what you said last night... about wanting to be a team?"

"Of course I meant it. You know so much, and I know so little. I want to learn from you. I want to be worthy of you. I want to learn how to be yours, Alex." He veiled his eyes in a gesture that Alex was beginning to know, a gesture that was the only outward indication of an insecurity deep and well hidden.

Alex stroked Dustin's cheek and kissed him softly.

"Dustin... you are worthy of me. I can only hope to be worthy of you one day... now, listen to me. You can't be like me and show insecurity." Seems my hypocrisy knows no bounds, his inner thought jeered at him. He sighed. "Hell, Dustin... I love you and I need you so much. I'd -- I think I'd -- know, I know we'd make a great team. Marita will begin your training when she gets here." A few moments later there was a knock at the door. "That'll be her. I called her after you fell asleep." He smiled. "Just a second!" he called. Then, softly again, "Come on. Time to get dressed."

Heart sinking as he watched Alex, Dustin reluctantly crawled from the bed, a picture of dejection. It felt as though he was being passed off even though Alex had proclaimed his love. He wondered for a minute whether he would ever see his beautiful, fierce, look-alike lover again. Head hanging in despondency, he stumbled off to the shower, and then returning, began to get dressed.

Alex followed him into the shower, then dressed hurriedly, and, seeing Dustin's sadness, walked over to him, hugging him tightly.

"God, I love you, Dustin. Love you so much. But you're not ready to come with me, pet. Soon, but not today." He used his finger under Dustin's chin to make him raise his eyes. "I promise. Soon we'll run and play together. But not yet. You must be ready before you can do that, moi Dustina."

Reluctantly breaking the embrace, he walked to the door to admit Marita. "Hi," he said, smiling.

"Hello." She looked past him, at Dustin. " Well, I am impressed, Alex. You said he looked just like you, buthe looks just like you!"

Alex nodded. "That he does." He led her over to Dustin. "Dustin, this is Marita Covarrubias. You'll do as she asks in my absence. She'll be going to work with you, too." Alex knew he probably sounded officious to Dustin, but in his mind he was already at Mackey's, demanding some answers from him, then off calling in a few favors.

Dustin cast a glance at the icy looking blonde who had just arrived. As he surveyed her immaculate appearance, he felt lower than he ever had in his life. Alex - his Alex, that he had only just found, was giving him to this blonde.

Dustin felt sick. He nodded, and grunted a few words of greeting before sinking down on the edge of the bed disconsolately. It had been good, but it was obviously over.

Alex rolled his eyes. "Would you excuse us for a moment, Marita?" She nodded, and left the room. Alex went to sit beside Dustin. He wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in for another kiss with a sigh. "Now, Dustin, what's the problem here? Please... she's going to look after you. I'll be back this afternoon, so it's not like I'm leaving you forever. Or even for a day. Come on, pet. You know I'll have to be leaving you alone periodically. What's up?"

He kissed Dustin's lips, then followed the curve of his cheekbone with more kisses, all the way to his temple. "Come on, little cub. Smile. This will be a good thing! She's going to teach you to shoot. Take you to the rifle range. Show you some stuff. Just the basics, my sweet. I'll teach you more later. But now it's not safe for you. You need to learn quick, and I gotta tie up some loose ends. I can't do both at once." Repeating his kisses along Dustin's other cheekbone, he could only hope his pet would understand.

Leaning his forehead against Alex's cheek, Dustin tried to examine the feelings he was experiencing. Finally raising sad eyes to look at Alex, he swallowed.

"I love you, and I'm afraid. You're going into danger and all I can do is watch. Fuck," Dustin said, fiercely, "I don't even know what the danger is. All I know is that you're afraid, and that you won't share that with me." He leaned into Alex's warm embrace. "That's all I know."

Alex sighed. "That's... understandable. Look at me, Dustin. Here's your first lesson: sometimes the only thing standing between you and death is fear. You gotta listen to your fear, make it your friend and best ally. What are you afraid of, Dustin?"

He caught his breath. Dustin had perceived Alex's own fear... he wasn't sure he liked that. But as partners... maybe this was new to Alex. The only person he'd ever had a partnership with before was Marita, and she was already very capable and self reliant, independent. Their friendship had grown as an extension of their work, not the other way around.

There was definitely something to be said for listening to fear, though. "What is it you're afraid of, Dustin? That you'll lose me?" Searching his pet's eyes, he said, "You won't. I love you... please believe me that I wouldn't leave you alone for a minute if I could stay. But I have to do this, mostly to make sure you're safe, in fact. And to keep it that way. Please, please understand." He could only look at his pet, and hope that he would.

"Is it Marita that's bothering you? She needn't... she's been a close friend for several years as well as a coworker. Before you, the only one I could fully trust."

Dustin laid his hands against Alex's cheeks, holding him steady while he gazed at him, committing him to memory, just as if he wouldn't be able to look in the mirror and be reminded of him.

"It's not her," he whispered. "It's you. I'm afraid for you. If you leave me now, just when I've begun to love you, I think my heart will break. I didn't know until now just what it would mean to have a broken heart, but it hurts already to think about it."

He leaned in to kiss Alex, a soft whisper over his lips, a mere touch, barely perceptible. "Please don't get hurt."

Alex kissed Dustin's nose, just the tip - a gesture of false levity revealed by the way he veiled his eyes, drawing his eyelids down like a shade. Dustin brought out instincts and emotions in him he hadn't felt in as long as he could remember, and he wasn't even sure he wanted to be capable of them. He kissed Dustin's forehead.

"I'll certainly try not to. And... I've... never felt this way about anyone, either. I'm ... please, forgive me if I've behaved like an asshole. I just don't... know how to be." He pulled back, trying for real levity again. "Just... try to concentrate on your studies, and I'll be back before you know I'm gone. Promise." He kissed Dustin again, on the lips, slowly and tenderly, flicking his tongue out, seeking to deepen the kiss.

With a sigh, Dustin gave himself up to the kiss. There was really nothing he could do or say that would make Alex reconsider and take him along. He could see that. He concentrated on learning the taste, and the feel, and the scent of his lover, his master. His hands traced Alex's neck, his broad shoulders and ran across his back.

When the kiss ended, Dustin pulled away, hugging himself. "You'd better go. I don't do goodbyes very well. I don't want to blow my cool exterior here."

Alex smiled, but it was a flickering smile. "All right. You... you ... I love you." Before he could blow *his* cool exterior, Alex rose and walked to the door, opening it for Marita.

She sauntered in, turned to face Alex just inside the door and said, "I've got what we need." Seeing the look in his eye, she added, "Don't worry. I promise to guard him with my life."

Swallowing hard, Alex nodded. "Yeah." Swallowing, he stared past her for a moment, into the hallway. "He's a little... uneasy. Be... be good to him. Don't let any harm come to him." He swallowed again. "And please... be nice to him. Keep him at ease. He's... funny. Just, go easy."

Marita nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "I know what he means to you, Alex. He'll be ... I won't bite." She tried a smile, but it didn't work.

Alex shrugged into his leather jacket, looking at Dustin one last time. "I love you," he murmured, holding his gaze a few moments too long. He felt weak.

He swallowed, nodded to them both, and left before he could change his mind.

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

As he walked to the stolen Volvo, Krycek felt like his heart was in his shoes. He had a feeling this could get ugly, but he had to do it. He had to talk to Mackey. He knew Mackey was jealous, but the question was, was he jealous enough to want the Smoker to catch them? Was he jealous enough to put him in jeopardy deliberately? Alex wouldn't have thought Mackey had it in him to do so. Then again... he had mentioned the Smoker had hurt him. If so, that was Krycek's fault, too, if indirectly. He had to take care of Mackey, and find out what the Smoker knew -- and what his intentions might be, beyond the obvious.

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

Dustin sat, a bundle of misery, and stared at the carpet. He didn't want to move now. If he stayed still he could retain the feel and scent of Alex, and not feel as though he had to let him go. He hunched, focused inward, merely acknowledging Marita's presence with a nod. He just didn't feel like socializing right at this minute.

You, Dustin Yarma, are a hopeless case, he thought. A couple of nights and you're ready to give your soul away to a guy with questionable morals. The man killed for heaven's sake. He didn't ask any questions, he just blew Minnow away for money. So how come you feel like your puppy just got run over? Why do you feel as though you just lost your lover? Smarten up!

Marita looked over at him. Should she touch him, put her arm around him? She just didn't know. Well... she would if it were Alex. But he wasn't Alex. She split the difference and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

"Hey. Hey. He'll be back, real soon. He's told me all about you. He... you believe in him, don't you? He's good at what he does. He *will* be back." Although she had her own doubts, they came from a different place than Dustin's. They came from experience with the men of the Consortium. Yes, better that Alex went alone. But at what cost to himself?

She squeezed Dustin's shoulder again. "He thinks the world of you, you know. Believes in you completely."

He could hear her speaking, and knew that he was being rude, but somehow he just couldn't summon up the energy to respond. Way to go, Yarma! Your whole world has turned on its head in a couple of days, and you can't handle life any more? You're an adult, dammit!

Slowly, he turned to her.

"I guess it doesn't really matter anyway, does it? I have no say."

She sighed. He had it bad. She'd seen others like that around Alex. But this time was different. This time she knew Alex was just as devoted to Dustin as Dustin was - or at least appeared to be - to him. "He didn't want to leave you. You know that. He wanted to take you. We discussed it..." They hadn't, not that much, but she figured displacement of his anger might help. "I told him not to take you. He did want to, a little..."

Marita continued, "But I told hi ... no, I'm sorry. He also told me to be honest with you. Falling back into old habits." She looked away. "Sometimes lying is automatic." She turned to him quickly. "But he's not lying about his feelings for you. He loves you more than can be healthy. You're the moon and the stars to Alex Krycek. You should be honored..."

"What's going to happen to him? Where is he going?" Dustin felt so lost, sitting there on the bed with an apparently frail woman telling him things about his lover. They'd discussed him. He felt somehow dirty, as though he should have been a secret. "What else don't I know?"

"Let's start with the first two. He's going to Mackey's to try to find out what could have possessed him to tell the Smoker where the two of you were. He believes the information will protect you in the future, and help you hide now. What will happen to him?" She smiled. "I suspect he'll talk to Mackey, and then meet us at your work. That's what he said he'd do, was it not?" She got up to get a glass of water. She also brought one for Dustin. Sitting back down, she said, "Perhaps you should to tell me what else you *do* know. Hey, don't look so frightened. Alex will be all right."

"What do I know?" Dustin's voice was bitter. "I know that there's a jerk somewhere that has brutalized Alex until he's afraid of him to the degree that he assumes the bastard has superhuman powers. I know that Alex needs to break free of him, and that somehow involves my boss. Other than that, I'm totally at sea. Who is this jerk that scares him? Maybe you can put it into perspective for me."

Marita took a sip of her water.

"Okay. The man you speak of is evil. That's the only word for him. He likes pain, Dustin. Psychological as well as physical, and he's as master at both types of torture." She paused, as she remembered seeing Alex after he'd been in CSM's clutches and being in them herself. "He scares Alex because... well, you'd be scared too, the things he puts him through. And remember, it's the pain he likes, so he won't kill him. Although I know Alex wishes for that at times. Let me ask you this. Did he ever mention the gulag, or Sergei?" Seeing recognition in Dustin's eyes, she said, "What did he tell you?" She watched him over the rim of her water glass as she sipped, waiting for an answer.

Frowning, Dustin searched his mind for his lover's words. "Just that he was broken and then given to this jerk by Sergei Or maybe Sergei died and then this man took him. I don't remember. He said that Sergei hurt him all the time and kept him prisoner." Dustin looked at Marita, totally helpless. "He's not a prisoner. Why is he afraid? This is America."

Marita's face went blank and her voice toneless as she stared through Dustin, remembering. "He kept us prisoner in this place... a white place. Sterile. Did things to us... medical experiments... shatters you. Everything you were ever afraid of..."

Suddenly snapping out of it, she shook her head and gazed at Dustin directly. "Well, it's a moot point. The Smoker has Alex working for him now. And... more. The Smoker... he's evil, Dustin. Pray that you never meet him." Abruptly she stood up, and walked to the door. "Are you ready? I have much to teach you. Alex said you were pretty lousy with a gun."

With a low laugh, Dustin stood to follow her.

"I guess that it never seemed to be terribly important before. I work in the movies, not the Marines." Sighing, he walked out of the room where he had known the most happiness of his life, to learn to kill.

Marita looked over, smiling slightly. "You're in the Army now." She laughed bitterly. "It's not that hard. Come on."

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

Krycek parked the Volvo in Mackey's driveway and ran up the walk to the house, going around to the side door. Fucking Mackey! Okay, so maybe CSM had talked to the guy, but that was just talking. Burns? Alex had been through worse. The man really was a little wimp. He wondered why the Smoker had picked him for the Consortium, reminding himself that his weakness was probably the very reason that he had. He banged on the door, then tried it. Locked. Fuming, he finally opened it with his key, after fishing in his pocket for it.

"Mackey!" he yelled, running towards the bedroom. "Mackey, you idiot..." He saw a shape on the deck. Ah, yes. The only place for a man to brood. He rushed out there. "Mackey, you fucking idiot." He ran up to him, jerking his head back roughly by his hair, glaring at him.

Karl Mackey was a sorry sight. As he looked at Alex from the one eye that was not swollen closed and weeping, he had an expression of such sorrow on his face that anyone's heart would have been moved. He didn't cry out when Alex grabbed hold of him, he merely stood, limp in the other man's brutal grip.

"Hello, Alex. Have you come to kill me? I wanted it to be you. I'm ready." He hung his head.

"Death's too good for you," Krycek growled. Then, seeing Karl, really seeing him as the sun shone through a cloud, his eyes filled with concern. "Oh, Karl..." He loosened his grip, and pulled Karl close to him. He and Karl had been through a lot together, and Krycek did feel affection for him. He kissed Karl softly. "Oh, moi Karl... what did he do to you?" Karl had obviously put up more of a fight than Alex had thought. He stroked Mackey's hair gently, because he still needed answers. "Tell me... tell me everything."

Tenderness did for Mackey what pain and intimidation had failed to do. He began to cry on Alex's chest, great hiccupping sobs through which he couldn't speak coherently. Alex let him cry, murmuring soothing noises as he held him gently.

"He was going to burn out my eyes. I'm sorry, Alex. I couldn't. I just couldn't." Karl's voice deteriorated into sobs once more.

"It's okay, Karl. It's all right." Soothing arms slid gently around to pet him, though part of Krycek longed to squeeze tight and shatter the man. What point, when he was already shattered?

Alex kissed him. "Tell me what you told him, Karl. And what he said to you. It will be okay. You'll go to work. It'll be okay." Krycek turned Karl's face up, seeing the regret and guilt in the other's eyes. "Thank you... thank you for not giving me up right away." Within himself, He still thought Mackey's betrayal had to do with Dustin. He knew Mackey had been jealous.

"He kept on asking me where you were. I told him I didn't know and that you hadn't been near. He told me I was a liar and that he'd seen you here." Mackey sniffed, and winced as tears stung the burns on his face. "He said that you would stop loving me when I was blind. I was going to let him do it, but it hurt so much. When he asked me the last time where you were right then, I told him Dustin's house, and then phoned you to warn you." Mackey sniveled and took Alex by the hand, leading him inside to find a drink.

Krycek followed, squeezing Mackey's hand reassuringly. In much the same fashion as the Smoker before him, he asked questions in a tone that sounded concerned yet disinterested. But hearing Dustin's name put him instantly on alert. "Dustin? What did you tell him about Dustin, Karl, hmm?" He stroked the side of Karl's face and kissed the man again, helping him to pour the drinks. "And did the Smoker say what he needed me for?"

"He didn't tell me anything, except that he needed to find you. He told me you were in danger, and it was urgent that he contact you. I" Mackey took a drink of the neat scotch he had poured himself. "I believed him, Alex. He said that you were going to be killed. I didn't tell him anything about Dustin, just that you were at his house. I didn't know anything to tell him, Alex."

Mackey tossed off his liquor, and poured himself another large tot.

"I would've died for you, Alex. I still will, but that was different."

Krycek's hand shot out and across Mackey's face, knocking the glass from his hand.

"You fucking believed him," Krycek spat. "And you didn't know anything? What the fuck is that? You knew everything!" He shoved Mackey against the bar, hissing in his ear. "Have you got it in for me now, Mackey? Are you trying to get me killed? Or Dustin? Is that what this is about?" He snorted in derision. "I bet he told you he's my father, too. Said all kinds of pretty things to make you believe." He stared at Mackey with fury and contempt.

Mackey stood, face averted from the blow, but made no attempt to protect himself. His face was serene. Alex was going to end him, and that would be enough.

"I didn't tell him for that. You asked me what he told me. That's what he told me. I held out until he went to burn my eyes with his cigarette. I see no shame in that. I've told you I'm sorry. I failed you." Mackey bent to pick up the fallen glass, and refilled it, sipping this time. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

Knowing he'd lost his cool, Alex took Mackey into his arms again.

"No, pet, I'm sorry." He rubbed Mackey's back. "I could never ask you to sacrifice your eyes for me. I'm a selfish bastard to even think it." He shook his head, and started over. "Well, what's done is done. All we can do now it hope to put it right, pet."

He pulled Karl closer, hugging him tenderly. "My poor, poor baby. He'll pay for that, you know. If I can... come, let's sit." He led Karl to the couch, helping him to sit down, and then broke off a piece of an aloe plant, rubbing the soothing juices into Mackey's face with much tenderness. "Poor baby... we need to get you fixed up so you can go to work." Krycek was still seething inside, but kept it under wraps. He was angry at CSM for using Mackey, far more so than he was at Mackey himself.

How dare he do that to one so submissive? Which was precisely why, of course. And he, Krycek, had finished his training so nicely, ensured he'd just roll over and dribble piss when pressure was applied.

Krycek scowled in self-disgust. He'd been played for a fool all along. Cursing in Russian, he got up and headed to the bathroom, looking for some concealer makeup. Not finding any, he came back out. "I'm going to go to the drug store for some stuff. I'll be right back. Stay put." Krycek headed out the door to the Volvo.

Krycek drove off to the store, hurriedly selecting concealer in several shades. He also got a compact of blush and eye shadow, some talc, triple antibiotic ointment, hydrogen peroxide, and a box of cotton balls. After waiting in a checkout line that seemingly never moved, he got back into the Volvo and retraced his route to Mackey's.

He slipped in the side door again.

"Here we go," Alex said, breezily, setting out his purchases on the coffee table and turning on a floor lamp next to the couch. "Now then, it's a good thing I did makeup for that Halloween pageant we did in college, isn't it?" Alex asked with a grin. He went to tilt Mackey's head to the light, unscrewing the hydrogen peroxide and taking out a cotton ball.

Relaxing under Alex's competent hands, Karl permitted himself to dream that his caressing hands were only for him, and that his adoration was to be rewarded. The sting of the peroxide was sweet, because it came from Alex's fingers. When he smeared the ointment onto his poor burned nose and eyelid, Karl sighed at the sensuality of the touch. He was almost asleep, purring with the ecstasy of being stroked when Alex began to apply the covering foundation. He didn't hear the slight footfalls that heralded the entry of others. It was only when Alex exclaimed that Karl broke from his reverie to find that there were armed men in his living room.

Alex barely scooted back, though he was tensed for fight or flight. When he spoke, his voice was icy calm.

"Yes?" He looked for the Smoking Man, but he didn't see him... wait a minute. There it was - the cigarette smell. He wrinkled his nose, shivers of fear working down his spine. He resolved not to show it, though. "May we help you?"

Mackey looked at the circle of unsmiling men. "What the hell are you doing in my" A large man in fatigues jammed the butt of his gun into Mackey's mouth, splitting his lip, and making bright blood pour from it. Mackey coughed, and fell back onto the couch.

"Get up," said the man to Alex. "It's time to go."

Alex wasn't going back to the Smoker if he could help it. Biting his lower lip, he thought as fast as he could. The Smoker had probably told them not to kill him.

He stood, graceful as a cat, and edged toward the side door. "Sorry, boys, but I've got a prior engagement." When they moved to cut off his escape, he laughed nervously. "Hey, c'mon guys. Don't I get a last phone call?"

Dustin... Dustin. Dustin, he screamed inside.

Suddenly, he lashed out at the nearest gunman, struggling as best he could, trying to disable him. In his blind rage he forgot about the others, and the Smoking Man, losing himself to the single intent of beating this one minion senseless. "No! You can't have me! I'm free now! Free!"

As Mackey watched, horrorstricken, Alex was clubbed mercilessly, finally falling to the floor. The men gathered around him, and Karl saw more than one boot drive into Alex's back as he lay unmoving on the floor. Mackey stood, intending to go and throw himself into the melee that surrounded his lover, but a sharp blow to the back of his head felled him, and he remembered no more.

Pain. Krycek felt pain coming from everywhere. He rolled, but it was inescapable. He raised his head, calling out for Mackey with his eyes, but then he was kicked again, and fell back. It was no use. He tried to stand, to defend himself, but he couldn't. He lay there. Where was the Smoking Man? He smelled him. When his ribs began sending him urgent messages of pain, he closed his eyes.

Dustin... he'd think of his sweet, sweet Dustin. Dustin would keep him safe... as his consciousness faded, he felt Dustin wrap an arm around him, and whisper to him that he loved him and would never leave him.. but then Dustin's face melted to a death mask.

Right before he slipped away, Alex breathed, "Little cub.... keep him safe... gotta keep... little cub..."

When Karl Mackey awoke, his head throbbing and his torn face stiff, he crawled to his knees, and moved to where he had seen Alex lying.

Alex was gone.

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

Dustin had fired guns until his ears rang despite the ear defenders Marita had insisted he wear. He thought that his aim had improved a little by the end of the session. When Marita had told him she was going to teach him how to fight, he had scoffed. She was a slight, willowy blonde, but even though he towered over her, she had trounced him thoroughly. He was now feeling very chastened, and although he sat at his desk, he couldn't concentrate.

He wanted to hear from Alex. When the phone rang, Dustin almost knocked it off his desk in his eagerness to pick up.

Mackey was unable to speak for a moment. How could he tell Dustin what had happened? After a pause and some ragged breaths, Mackey softly said, "They've taken him. Came in with guns, knocked us out. Woke up, he was gone... I'm so sorry, Dustin. I told him he should kill me, but he didn't. I don't know what to do. I need to find him... we gotta get him back."

Karl sniffled, trying to think of what to say next. What he said might not have been the wisest thing, but he couldn't live with the burden. He had to get it off his chest. "I... one other time they took him, I saw him... after. We've got to find him." Karl's voice was racked by painful sobs, and he tried to say more but could only moan piteously.

"Dustin? Help me find him?"

Fear iced Dustin's balls as he listened to Mackey's babbling.

"Damn it, Karl! You're lying to me." He stood, and screamed the words at Karl, the CSM, the whole world. "You're lying!"

Marita, who had been out in the main work area, heard the anguish in his voice and came running to find out what had happened. When she reached Dustin's office, he was impotently punching the desk, tears running down his face. Marita stood over him, and waited. The face he raised to her was full of anguish.

"They took him."

Marita went to him.

"Oh... no. God," Marita murmured as she hung her head. She had been afraid this would happen. Afraid for Dustin... and for Alex. She knew it wouldn't be long before they came after Dustin. She looked at him, kindly. "When? Where? What happened?" She placed a hand over his, crouching beside his chair, trying to soothe him. "Who was that on the phone?"

"That was my asshole boss, Karl Mackey." Dustin's voice was flat, dead, as he spat out the words. "He stood by and let my Alex be taken away." He sank his head into his hands. "Now what do I do? I can't live without him. Not now that I've found him."

Marita sighed. Mackey... damn. "He was the one who...?" Damn. Why, Mackey? "Well, I'm sure he didn't stand there... he loves Alex, too, as you know... yes?" She sighed. "We have to find him, Dustin, and quickly." She swallowed. "He... the Smoker... Alex..." Her own voice choked with fear for her friend. "We need more information. Do you know where Mackey lives?"

She had to run to keep up with his lope, when Dustin seized her elbow and hustled her out of the office, barking over his shoulder to the long suffering Suzanne to cancel everything as he went. His car was waiting for him in the lot. He'd gone to collect it that morning on the way to his lessons in inadequacy, and a little pride surfaced as he ushered Marita to the passenger's seat.

"Oh, yeah. I know where he lives, all right!"

"How far is his house?" she asked.

"It's in Malibu. A few miles is all. Don't worry, I'll get you back in time for dinner." Dustin swung the car through the intersection and down a side street as he attempted to avoid the hell of early evening traffic in downtown Hollywood.

"Dinner is the last thing on my mind," Marita said crisply. "Listen. How much do you know about Alex and Mackey?"

"All I know is that Mackey was happy to suck him off yesterday, and when Alex told him to take me up the ass, he loved it. How, and why, I have no idea." Dustin glared at her, and his face took on a frightening anger. "What do you know? Tell me."

"Dustin... remember what I said about..." She thought for a moment. "This is hard to explain. Okay. When you're with Alex, do you ever get the feeling you're dealing with... two people, almost?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, gauging his response. "Like there's... a part of himself he keeps hidden?"

"There's a lot he hasn't told me, but I never thought that Alex seemed like two people, no. He's just a complex man." Dustin was driving fast as he spoke, and finally, they turned onto the Malibu road.

Marita smiled. "Well, that's good. He's been doing a lot better, which is one reason..." She stopped that train of thought. "He is complex. I admire him, a lot. Anyway, Mackey is ... he was... part of the training... no. You know, I'm not so sure I understand it myself. How they started. I do know that the Smoker encouraged it... and he likes it if Alex hurts him." She sighed. "It all goes back to the Smoker, it seems."

Dustin shuddered. This nebulous monster that hung over them all was beginning to scare him, but more than that, he was pissing him off.

"Let's see what Mackey has to say about it, shall we?" He turned the Porsche into Mackey's driveway, and screeched the tires to a standstill. "Are you coming?"

Marita glanced at Dustin. "Of course I'm coming. If nothing else, to make sure you don't do something we'll all regret. She'd noted the set of his jaw and was very glad, suddenly, that she'd had him unload his gun that afternoon. She knew that look, having seen it on Alex enough times. He was angry enough to kill.

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

Karl Mackey, pathetic movie mogul, sat on his deck, watching the waves crash against the shore. Lately it seemed all he could do was watch the sea. He tried to divine the messages it might be sending him, but he gave up and went back inside the house to get another scotch. He wondered how he could have been so careless.

He was close to drunk, and his head swam as he downed another glass of liquor. How could he have allowed them to take Alex? How could he have stopped them? His heart was heavy as he contemplated the empty bottle.

Dustin's sudden entry into Mackey's living room ought to have been a shock, but Mackey had been waiting for it since he'd finally screwed up the nerve to phone him. He stood, a forlorn figure, drooping beside the shelf where the liquor was kept. As Dustin strode towards him, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Storming towards Mackey with his fist raised, Dustin was ready to strike the man he saw as the cause of all his problems, until he saw the injuries that Mackey had received. In confusion, he lowered his arm.

"What the hell happened, Karl?"

Mackey slowly raised his face to look at the man who had taken his love and that looked just like him. His mouth opened, but he could not speak.

Marita stood beside Dustin, ready if he should lose his cool.

Mackey looked at Dustin, then dropped his gaze. "Hit him. Kicked him. He was helping me and I lost him. They beat him... I should have lost my eyes rather than give him up. They took him... my fault. I gotta find him. Need him so badly..." Mackey looked up at Marita. "You know... you know..."

Marita nodded, and moved to put a hand on Mackey's shoulder. "I know," she agreed, meeting Dustin's querying gaze with one that sent chills down his spine. "I know. We'll find him. I have an idea. But you... you two talk for a bit. I need to make a phone call." It looked like Dustin wouldn't attack the man, after all.

Dustin had slumped down on the floor beside Mackey, and was now holding the other man's shoulders.

"What the fuck have you done to yourself, Mackey? You look like shit. Who took him, and where have they taken him?" Releasing Karl, he shoved him roughly backwards.

"Why are you still here?"

"Hurt... hurt all over." Karl fell backwards, clambering back up to his knees with difficulty. He stayed there, head hung low. "Didn't... do anything. Alex was trying to fix it. Then... they came. He was with them. The one who smokes those cigarettes? He said he wouldn't hurt Alex, but he lied... he hurt him..." Karl emitted soft, spasmodic sobs. "You're going to kill me. Good... get it over with..." He sniffled. "I've betrayed the only man I've ever loved. Who ever loved me. Please, make it quick... I deserve it."

"Kill you?" Dustin turned away from him in disgust. "I'm not going to kill you. You deserve to live to see what they've done to him. Get up!" He went to sit on Mackey's couch. "Alex gave you to me. You're going to wish he hadn't."

He looked around for Marita, and failing to see her, turned back to Mackey. "For goodness sake, do something about your face, Karl. You'll frighten children."

Karl tried to stand, but was unable to as the words Dustin spoke caressed his mind. 'Alex gave you to me.' Despite himself, despite wanting to hate this man who had taken Alex away, who days ago was a mere employee, an imposter to Alex's good looks, he felt himself get hard. He imagined Dustin taking him from behind and twitched at the thought. It had been so good the other day... he crawled over to Dustin, putting a hand on his knee and bowing submissively.

"Please, please." Dustin was his master now, and he would make everything all right.

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

Marita was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of bottled water, waiting for the call she'd made to be picked up. That bastard... keep cool, you've got to play this just right, she thought. She replaced the water in the fridge just as the phone was answered.

"Speak." The word was cold, the voice dry and impersonal. The sound of a lighter clicking followed, filling the silence that stretched out.

"I hear you found your favorite agent," Marita said. "I know how long and hard you worked to get him. Congratulations." She fought down a lump of bile in her throat. "As you requested, I'm keeping an eye on the other." The lie rolled off her tongue easily. A spy who couldn't lie well was a sorry person indeed. "He hasn't been out of my sight. Shall I stay on here to keep you posted?" She waited to hear his response.

"Tell me about this this 'other', Miss Covarrubias. Is he as much like Alex as I'm told?" The Smoker's voice wormed its way into her fears, igniting tremors that threatened to spill over into her speech.

"He's identical. I know that I'm impressed." She paused, licking her lips as more silence ensued.

"I'd like you to bring him in, please. I want a look at him. I'm finding Alex a little tiresome. Oh, and Marita? Bring Mackey with you. I can use him." The click of disconnection was sudden and annoying. Closing her phone, Marita paused, brow furrowed as she pondered the problem of how to help without blowing her own cover.

Fuck if I will bring them in. Mackey maybe, but not Dustin. Wait a minute... She put a hand to her lips as she thought. Mackey knew the CSM. This might work... She went back into the living room to tell Dustin and Mackey her plan. Seeing Mackey groveling in front of Dustin, she rolled her eyes. He was enough to sicken the worst sadist. Or was that a contradiction in terms?

"Where did you go?" Dustin's voice was flat, as though he didn't care. He sat on the couch, one hand idly stroking Mackey's hair as he waited. "I don't know what to do, how to find him. Do you?"

Marita smiled at them. "I may have a way. I just called the Smoker, pretending to be on his side." She squatted beside Mackey, speaking soothingly as she stroked his shoulder. "Karl, you may be the key to saving your master's life yet. Would you like that?"

Still sobbing, Mackey nodded, his unswollen eye brightening a little as the sobs subsided. "H - how can I help?"

Marita took his hand kindly. "Go to the Smoker. He asked for you. Go to him in DC, and pretend you want to hurt Alex, to get revenge on him --."

At this, Mackey looked like one of those cartoon characters who've run off a cliff at the moment they realize the ground's run out but before they fall to earth.

"Hurt him? Nonono... I could never hurt Alex!" he started to sob again, and leaned into Dustin's leg. He'd never liked Marita.

Marita looked over Mackey's head, meeting Dustin's eyes and rolling her own. "I didn't say you *would* hurt him, Mackey. Just... tell the Smoker you will. So he'll let you see him." She looked from him to Dustin. "Get it?" She paused to gather her thoughts. "While you go back, Dustin and I will stay here, in a safe house, getting it ready for Alex's return. He'll need some TLC once he gets back."

She looked at Dustin. "I'm going to go arrange a house for us. I can tell Mackey still doesn't quite get it... but you do, and you can explain it better than I can." She gave Mackey's shoulder a last squeeze, and stood up. "If you don't trust me, trust Dustin, all right?" She stood, and began walking towards the door. "Best we get out, and fast. And a plane ticket for Mackey..." A further thought occurred to her and she turned back to Dustin. "If Karl is going to DC, he can't know where you and I will be."

As Marita left, Mackey laid his head on Dustin's knee, and sobbed. Dustin sighed, and pushed him up.

"Get up, Karl. Get up here. I need to talk to you." The injured and sorry looking man stumbled to sit beside Dustin on the couch, his face battered and bruised but hopeful as he sat expectantly.

Dustin sighed. This was going to be tough.

"Karl, you're the only one who can help him at the moment. I need you to go to him. You can pretend. You can protect him. Dawning comprehension rose in Karl Mackey's eyes. Dustin smiled at him. "Yeah? You've got it, Karl. You'll help him, won't you?

"I love him, Dustin. I - I'll do anything for him. Die for him, if I have to. Just... just... " He wrapped his arms around Dustin. "I'm afraid I'll mess up again. But if I don't... I'll do it," he said determinedly. "I'll go, and get Alex free."

He looked at Dustin gratefully. The man had shown him how to save his love. He kissed Dustin, remembering the feel of Dustin's cock inside him at Alex's bidding. They had been so good to him, maybe... Mackey felt his cock growing hard, and he smiled. He moved to the floor in front of Dustin on his hands and knees, offering himself. He spread his legs sluttishly, and half lay, half sat on the rug, his ass in the air. "Dustin... Dustin. Thank you. Please... please fuck me, Dustin." His cock strained painfully against the fabric of the trousers he wore, and he hoped Dustin would take him soon, and hard the way Alex would have done.

Reluctantly, Dustin reached for Karl Mackey, wondering if he'd somehow fallen down a rabbit hole as he contemplated his needy boss. This was something that he hadn't anticipated. Idly, he wondered whether Mackey came with an owner's manual. The thought was almost enough to set him giggling, and he schooled his face into sternness.

"Get your clothes off, Karl." Dustin looked at the sorry man groveling before him; uncertain whether he'd be able to satisfy Mackey's need for humiliation. Well, he would try.

Mackey eagerly looked up at Dustin. "Yes, master Dustin." He'd felt his cock twitch as the words came out of Dustin's mouth. Not Alex, no... but oh how he wanted to believe. He did as he was told, ripping his shirt off, and quickly unfastening his belt, passing his trousers and briefs over his hips. When he was naked, he got into position before Dustin, in the sluttish attitude Alex liked so well.

"Dustin, please... please." He hoped Dustin would be as cruel and savage as Alex was. Maybe then, for a while, he wouldn't see Alex before him, tortured for something that had been no fault of his own. "Touch me, fuck me, Dustin... please. I need to feel you."

Dustin felt fury rising in him. This little worm actually thought that he could replace Alex? That was ridiculous. It was unthinkable. He struck Mackey's backside, raising a satisfying five-fingered welt on the pale flesh, while Mackey moaned and writhed.

It was too much for Dustin. He pulled down his zipper and lowered his boxers just enough to release his straining, angry cock, and took hold of Mackey's hips, forcing himself into Karl past the barrier of muscle at the opening of his anus. As Mackey moaned, Dustin began to fuck him.

Karl thrust back onto Dustin's cock, hard. Dustin wasn't Alex so maybe he could get away with that demand for more, but part of him hoped not. Somewhere his mind revolted, telling him this was Dustin Yarma, not Alex Krycek... yet Krycek had given him to Yarma. He moaned as Dustin's speed increased, gasping. The man was nowhere near as good as Alex had been, but with a little help... That decided, Mackey bucked his hips.

"Please, Dustin, yes. Oh yes, Dustin. That feels so nice." He rolled his hips and looked back at Dustin's face, hoping Dustin would hit his ass like that again.

Never Alex. But yet...

Dustin was at a loss. His mind whirled with pain, and lust, and fury, and finally he raised his fist and began to pound on Karl as he pounded into his ass.

"You let him go! You let them take him. Damn you! Damn you! Damn you!"

Mackey seemed to grow more excited as Dustin struck him, and in the end, Dustin found himself using his open palm to hit Karl over and over as he ploughed into him. His cock felt over sensitized, and he didn't think that he would come from this. He felt like a god, his cock a weapon with which to punish. He did not feel happy, or complete, or aroused.

Truth to tell, he was horrified.

When Mackey finally groaned and came with a cry, Dustin removed his dick, still unspent, and replaced his clothing without saying a word.

Karl felt deflated. Just as he'd been feeling his new master grow harder, he had pulled out. Mackey's ass was tender and raw, needing more. He knew Dustin hadn't come. How had he failed?

Disconsolately, he crawled over to where Dustin stood, fastening his trousers. With a soft whimper he put his palm over Dustin's dick, looking up at him in pure supplication and hurt. "Please, please. I can do it better. Please, let me bring you off. Let me finish you." He licked his lips suggestively, putting his mouth against Dustin, mouthing his cock through his trousers. "Please, Dustin... let me please you... He lowered his eyes, and hung his head, a kicked puppy. "Please..."

If he failed to please Alex's love, he knew Alex would never come back to him, no matter what.

"Please..." a dejected plea, coming from deep inside Mackey who felt so worthless, so hopeless, so lost. Lost without his lover... he knew he'd done wrong.

Dustin contemplated him without saying anything for a minute that seemed to stretch for hours. What could he do with this pathetic person who seemed to bear no resemblance to his boss? Finally, he grabbed Karl by the collar and hauled him to his feet.

"Mackey," He put his arms around Karl with an inward shrug, cradling Mackey against his chest. "Come on now. You don't have to be like this. You're concussed. You need to see a doctor. Let's get you to the hospital and taken care of. You'll be no good to Alex if you have a stroke or something, will you?" He rubbed Mackey's back and shoulders. "It'll be okay, Karl. You don't have to do this. We'll get him out."

Karl sobbed against Dustin.

"I... I need Alex. Where is he? Not supposed to be like this... not end this way, not... no... no hospital, please. Marita says I have to go back to DC if I want Alex back. I don't have time for the hospital."

Dustin was more right than he knew - a particularly hard blow to Karl's head had rendered him confused; in fact, the man had a concussion, and was suffering from shock.

"No, please, just tell Alex that I need him," Mackey pleaded. "Want to find 'im. Ask Dustin if he'll help me, and Marita."

"Come on, Karl." Dustin pulled the still sobbing man against him. There was something wrong here, and he was uneasy. If anything happened to Karl, where would Alex be? "Let's go. We'll find Alex in a few minutes, but first, you have to see a doctor. Alex needs you to see one, do you understand?"

He dragged the dazed Mackey after him, out towards his car.

Mackey stumbled after Dustin, trying not to black out again. The day had been too much for him. "Okay, okay... just... tell Dustin I'm sorry. He'll kill me if I don't get to Alex... Alex... tell Dustin I'm looking... gone to look..." He slid into the car, and his head lolled to one side. "Feel sick, oh God... where's Alex...?"

Pounding the wheel in sheer frustration, Dustin surveyed the sorry state of his boss. "Hang in there, Mackey. It's gonna be all right." He picked up his cellphone and called Marita to tell her what had happened after her departure, and then sighed heavily.

All right for you, Dustin thought, but not for Alex. He wanted to curl up in a tight ball and cry for his lover. Instead, he put the car in gear and drove Karl down to the hospital to get him checked out, and to await Marita.

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

The old house in Falls Church, Virginia had seen many people come and go. It had seen some who had arrived, and never departed again. C. G. B. Spender sat at his desk, working on a file that was spread across it when the phone shrilled, deafening in the quiet of the office.

"Your package has arrived, sir." The brusque voice made Spender smile, and he flicked the gold lighter to ignite the latest of a million cigarettes, and then contemplated the inscription on the side.

'To Charles, with love from Alex.'

Rising to his feet, he issued instructions that his 'package' should be taken directly to the laboratory, and then replaced the phone gently.

Krycek awoke in a sterile smelling, horrifyingly familiar room. He looked up, and saw the oblique glass of a viewing theater. Oh, great...

He choked, and turned his head from side to side. He was alone! Alex tried to get up from the table, but he was lashed down. They'd taken his arm - he could see it lying like a dead, bloated fish on the table a few feet away. It was then he realized he had an IV in his arm, and an EKG monitor on his body.

Heart speeding up, he tried to pull free. He was in the process of trying to rip the IV line out of his arm with his teeth when he heard a familiar cough. Undaunted, Alex tugged at the line, trying to jerk it out.

A hand seized his hair, jerking his head back, roughly.

"Come, come, Alex. You wouldn't want to put my poor nurse to the trouble of having to re-insert that, would you? Where are your manners?" As Spender walked into Alex's field of vision, the smile he wore was not pleasant. Alex's heart skipped as he recalled other times when the old man had smiled that smile and then he realized that Spender was still speaking. "But you must be far too warm, Alex. Let me get you comfortable.

His nemesis drew a knife and began cutting Alex's clothing from his body. Soon, he lay naked and exposed.

Alex had gasped as the knife almost cut his flesh in a few places. If it had been Dustin holding that knife, the pain would have been exquisite. Thoughts of Dustin had been the glue holding him together through the trip here, and now... he looked at the Smoker, murder and hate in his eyes.

"Let me go, you bastard. I won't be yours anymore!" He bucked uselessly on the table, but Krycek was not a man to lie quietly. Cursing in Russian, he tugged again at the IV line. "Get this out of me. I'm not yours."

"How soon you forget, my Alex," purred the old man. "Of course you're mine. It's always so sad when my toys are broken, but I'll do what I can to repair you." He leaned down to press a line of kisses over Alex's face.

"Such a very pretty face. How sobering to think of the ease with which it could become spoiled." The knife trailed down from Alex's chin, over his chest, circled his navel, and then delicately scraped along his penis. "We should commence repairs immediately."

Krycek had shut his eyes against the pain, drawing in a ragged breath when the knife reached his penis. "You know what, old man?" he muttered. "I found out something about love. It was an epiphany. What I realized was this: even if you take someone as pet, and 'own' them that way, the only real connection -- truest love -- you have is if they own you as well. I never owned you, did I? But my new pet... he owns me as much as I do him. And you know what? It feels great. It feels more than great. As long as I have him..." He stopped, thinking of his lover, waiting for the Smoker's next move.

Spender issued an order to someone else who was lurking in the room outside of Alex's visual field. "Prepare him," he barked, and then turned back to Alex.

"You? Own me? What an amusing concept, Alex. I salute you. You have retained your sense of humor against all odds." The point of the knife pressed in against the slit in the top of Alex's penis, and a bright droplet of blood welled from it. Spender put the knife to one side and then stooped, taking the cock into his mouth and sucking it clean of blood. Still smiling, he stepped away and was gone.

Cursing loudly, Alex railed to the empty room. The very idea of owning CGB made him want to kill the man and blasphemed the love he now felt.

"I wouldn't want to own you," he spat. "Dream on."

As a man in a white coat approached him, injecting something into his IV line, he looked up in mute appeal, but his green eyes did nothing to stop the man. Alex fixed his gaze on the ceiling, willing himself to be a stone, a piece of wood. The Smoker could do his worst; Alex had been through most of it before, and would not give his captor the pleasure of a fear or any other reaction. He would wear the mask he kept in his back pocket, his face lax, eyes closing as he awaited his fate. He could do this.

When Alex next awakened, he had been moved. Still naked, he was bound to a huge frame that hung on stout chains from a timbered ceiling. Looking around as far as he could, he deduced that he was no longer in the laboratory. This was a room that he had only seen once before. Spender used it to interrogate those captives he felt might require assistance to give him their information.

His head whirled, and he felt sick and giddy, the feeling of unease he had experienced from the start crystallizing into dread as he attempted to escape his bonds without any success at all.

He choked, closing and opening his eyes rapidly, sensations of vertigo rocking his brain. He stopped his struggling, hanging limply, but that hurt, too, as the cuffs abraded his ankles and wrist as gravity pulled him downward. He swallowed, waiting for his body to adjust its equilibrium to accept the new state of affairs. Arching his limbs up toward the ceiling, he tried to relieve some of the pressure. Of course, that took energy; keeping up the slack was an exercise in paradox, and he chuckled, but only briefly. Everything hurt. He wondered what might have been done to him while he was out, and what might be yet to come...

Time dragged by on leaden heels. Barely a sound broke the stillness of the air. Alex didn't know if it were day or night. He merely knew that he was thirsty beyond bearing, and that his joints had begun to feel as though they were being torn asunder. A couple of times he'd heard vague noises, but nobody had come near him. He was beginning to think that he'd been forgotten, when a small, dark woman in a white coat suddenly entered the room.

"I'd like a drink, please," he said, hopefully.

She didn't acknowledge his words, merely kneeling before him and lathering up his pubic region with an old-fashioned bristle brush and shaving foam. As he looked on, impotently, she produced a straight razor and began to shave every vestige of hair from his genitals.

Krycek raised his eyes to the ceiling. How could he have asked for that water? That wasn't like him.

"I wouldn't take your water anyway," he spat. "Hey, watch the pressure!" The woman was being none too careful in her shaving and had cut him a few times. Krycek supposed that this was to facilitate some type of torture, electricity maybe. He closed his eyes, recalling the torture he'd experienced previously, and the torture he'd inflicted on Mackey.

He began his deep breathing exercises, using the will of his mind to numb his genital area. He'd had some training in this, both with Hindu monks and on the fly, as it were.

The woman suddenly drew a sharp line across his balls. He knew she had cut him. Biting his lip, as he refused to cry out, she drew blood as she repeated the procedure on the other side of his sac. She then took something from her pocket, something big and torpedo-shaped, and worked it into his ass. It was cold, and metal, and big... Alex felt stretched to the breaking point. She shoved it in farther, causing him at last to cry out, and she chuckled in a low voice.

"Our little stoic," she said. "You master will punish you for that..." Alex felt a chill as she said that. Oh, Dustin... Dustin, please... I need you, moi Dustina. Please, please... just tell me you love me, Dustin...

Finally, she left him, shaven clean, blood dripping from his genitals to trickle down his legs. His balls were stinging from the cuts, but worse than that was the itching, tickling of the blood, while he remained utterly helpless to scratch at the irritation.

He sank into a kind of torpor, half conscious and half still with his new lover, remembering how Dustin had held himself open for him. Alex longed to hear his voice again, asking, demanding, but giving him such love.

Thoughts of Dustin had brought him erect, and he was almost fully hard when the Smoker opened the door and strolled closer to take in his humiliation. There was no point in cringing. Alex hung there helpless, a fruit, ripe for the harvest.

The Smoker stood and looked at him for a very long time, prior to speaking, and when he did, it was in a mild, almost kindly voice.

"You requested a drink, I believe. Here." The smoker lifted a paper cup on which the familiar golden arches were displayed. The top had a straw in it, and the old man pressed it up to his lips. Almost against his will, Alex sipped. It was Coca Cola, deliciously cool against his dry mouth and throat.

Ah! It felt so good! Alex took several swallows, forgetting himself in the sweet ecstasy of the drink. He heard himself gasp a thank you... He closed his eyes, taking swallow after swallow. He'd never known Coca-Cola could taste so good.

He smiled... 'Have a Coke and a Smile', was the old slogan, and it felt so damn good... but... oh, but. But his master never gave without also taking something in return. As he took the last swallow he looked at the Smoker sullenly, wondering what the price was to be this time.

Now that his thirst had been sated, his body began sending messages to the itch and pain centers in his brain, from his abused cock and asshole. He spat to the side, hating this man who brought him a drink yet ordered his torment. He hated himself for getting hard, and resolved to not think of Dustin anymore.

Mackey... he could imagine Mackey holding him without getting hard. Sweet, sweet, traitorous without meaning to be, Mackey. He hung there, thinking of Mackey, and then he looked at the Smoker. "I just flew in from LA... boy, are my arms tired," he said, trying for a joke and hoping it would earn him some relief. His master always said he liked his sense of humor.

The Smoker laughed, a thin, paper-scratching sound that made Alex's flesh stand out in goosebumps. Suddenly, he seized Alex's cock, and began stroking it gently as he started to talk.

"Alex, my Alex, it's so good to have you back where you belong. It hasn't been the same without you. Nobody else will do. They all lack your unsophisticated enthusiasm, and your stoic ability to withstand pain." His hand, slick with oil, slid back and forth on Alex's erection, moving faster as he felt Alex respond despite himself. "You don't realize just how your capacity for enjoyment has been missed."

Abruptly, the Smoker dropped to his knees, and Alex felt a hot, wet mouth enclose him, sucking him hard.

Alex leaned his head back. No, no... but his master knew how to stroke him, how to suck him. The man who would be his master, he corrected himself.

He thought of cold rivers, cold water splashing over him from the river they used as a makeshift shower in Russia, the waterfall that ran through the gulag, standing beneath the icy waters as they pierced his soul. He thought of the dead bodies he'd seen, bloating and rotting, stinking in the sun as they lay where they'd fallen. He thought of people he'd killed, some of them pleading for their lives as he stood over them with a gun. Slowly, slowly, he began to lose his erection, and he felt a small thrill of satisfaction.

He looked down at the Smoker, his eyes stony. "You aren't near as good as my new pet. But it was a good, solid attempt." Suddenly his vision swam, and he fought to keep his eyes open. He heard his Master say something, but he couldn't tell what it was. He smiled as the drug asserted its not unpleasant effect, and he drifted in and out of a delicious haze. The mouth on his cock suddenly felt great, and in his mind it was Dustin there between his legs, his sweet Dustin.

"Dustin..." he moaned. "Oh... sleepy, Dustin..."

Just as Alex was beginning to feel the tell tale tightness that heralded the onset of his orgasm, he felt the mouth at his groin draw away. A harsh, tight sensation told him that he had been bound up into some kind of restraint, and that his balls were being cruelly constrained from letting their burden go.

Glancing down, he could see his own cock bobbing and dipping helplessly, and knew that the Smoker was not going to go easy on him. As the old man began to attach clamps to him, suspending them from nipples and testicles, he moaned faintly. His head was whirling, and it was really far too much bother to hurt. Maybe there would be pain later, but now, all he felt was a desperate need to come.

He looked at his master, then shook his head. He would not ask for this. He could not. He closed his eyes, thinking of Dustin, trying... but the clamps forbade it. He bucked, trying to get free, but that only made it worse. He tried reaching for his cock with his arm, but it was bound. He looked at the Smoker in mute appeal.

I won't say it... I won't. Suddenly he felt a release, as if he'd flipped a switch. He didn't want to come, he wanted to sleep... sleep forever. He was tired... so tired... but he couldn't quite. He heard himself say, "Please... please let me come... please..." and realized that he was no longer in control of anything at all.

The Smoker laughed again, suddenly backhanding Alex fiercely.

"Beg, damn you. You are a disobedient serf, and there's no honesty in you. You'll plead on your knees before you're through." The evil old man took hold of Alex once more, and began a rapid stroking that heightened his arousal even as it irritated his skin. Again, the old man sensed his closeness to orgasm, and paused thoughtfully as Alex tensed, on the brink.

"Who is this new pet that owns you so thoroughly, Alex?" He knelt and reached between Alex's legs pressing and twisting the plug that was inside him as he applied his mouth to the cock that bobbed and waved in front if him.

"Please, master... you know who he is... Mackey told you. Eyes green -- that see me so clearly -- lips red and kisses sweeter than wine... oh, to hold him again, feel him... he opens himself to me and I give it to him, whatever he needs... I sometimes think he's more than my pet. He's... the word soul mate comes to mind? He knows me so well... teases me the way Mackey doesn't."

Alex shook his head, wanting to stop the flow of words, but he knew it was sodium pentothal stream of consciousness and it was no use. The image of his love hovered before him, all too close but way out of reach.

"Dustin... come closer, pet? Please?" He turned his head, vertigo catching him as his mouth ran dry. He licked dry lips, and closed his eyes. Cotton eyes... he would not beg, he would not. He no longer knew where he was.

"Good boy." The suckling at his cock suddenly intensified, and Alex could feel the tingle and pull of his climax as if it were a creature, nestling within his belly. With a scream, he let himself go, feeling the pulse and flow as his body expelled his essence.

"I'm sure that Dustin will enjoy this just as much. I look forward to making his acquaintance." The Smoker stood, dusting off his knees, and then turned to leave Alex, still suspended from the framework.

"No! Dustin's not for you!" Alex screamed as the Smoker left, cursing in Russian. If this man touched his love he was a dead man... maybe they both were.

He started to choke as he imagined the Smoker taking Dustin the way he took him, using him and leaving nothing behind. He had a sudden flash of the Smoker sucking Dustin off, and moaned.

"No, not Dustin... Dustin's sweet, and good, and innocent... you can have me, just don't touch Dustin." The rage swelled in him again as he imagined, unbidden, the Smoker taking Dustin up the ass, hurting him the way he'd been hurt... "Touch him and you're a dead man!"

He panicked before he remembered that Dustin was with Marita. She'd never let anything bad happen to him... she was his friend, and hated the Smoker as well. She wouldn't let him down.

As the rack, or bed, or whatever, tilted him over again, he bit his lip until the lurching stopped, wondering what would happen next. He knew he still hadn't told the Smoker everything he wanted to know, or he would have let him go... or would he?

Then he remembered -- Cairo, and a man he was supposed to seduce for the Consortium. The mark was a really ugly, foul man Alex had met a few times. He was to offer himself as pet to this man, lure him. No. Not again. He was done with that life. He had escaped. And he had a new love...there was nobody and nothing that could make him do that. Not a damn thing.

The light was extinguished, and he was alone and bound in the darkness. Time passed. He had no idea how much. No one came near him, and he began to need the bathroom desperately. He tried calling out, but there was no answer. He might have been left abandoned forever. In a way, he wished he had.

At last, he could contain his urine no longer, and released it, hot and acrid, to run along the frame upon which he was tied, and to soak his hair and skin before dripping to the floor.

Shortly after that, the electric shocks began.

Damn! He knew he should have held it... just as he knew that he couldn't have. The shocks were weak, but he knew it was only the beginning.

Still... he steeled himself, waiting till he got used to the small prickles along his flesh. Like being bitten by many mosquitoes, he told himself. No big deal. You can take this. Alex Krycek smiled to himself as he found himself correct. He thought that he might even come to like the pain - the room was so dark, and the silent, little pricks to the skin verified his existence.

He took a deep breath, resting, knowing this wasn't the worst yet amused that he had beaten it. It had been awhile since the Smoker had tortured him like this, and he found as he weathered each stage, his resolve only seemed to grow stronger. He waited, with a smirk on his lips. That all you got, old man?

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

Alex must have dozed, despite the discomfort. When he awoke, set-faced servants were unfastening him from the soiled framework. Alex attempted to break free, but his limbs wouldn't obey him, and he knew that he'd been dosed with something that would ensure his complaisance. All he could do was struggle sluggishly as he was carried to the bathroom and given an enema, prior to being dumped into a tub filled with bubbles.

When he was clean, they greased him, combed his hair and shaved him without a word being spoken. He was carried to a room in which several men waited. Servants laid Alex prone on an inclined bench, strapping his limbs, with a further strap around his neck that was pulled taut. If he moved too far, it would throttle him.

He lay there; looking at the stone faced men around him. He could well enough guess what was coming. He knew his master wanted him to go to Cairo.

"No," he said to the room at large. "Do your worst, but my days of being a Consortium fucktoy are over. Spy work I'll do, but not that. I... I'm in love now, and a man in love is no good at seduction! I won't be able to fake it the way I used to."

As the men advanced on him, Alex steeled himself and continued, "Surely you understand true love. Please, don't do this to me. Please, don't." As one man climbed up behind him, parting his ass roughly with a hand, and pinching his buttocks, Alex tried to jerk away. He was angry that they would do this... that they would take him, knowing he had given up his old ways, and was in love. He tried to lash out, to kick, but he couldn't effectively do it. Finally, he slumped against the bench, daring them to do their worst.

He wouldn't give in. Even if they killed him, or split him wide open with their cocks, or worse -- for Dustin, for himself - he would hold on.

It occurred to him that this was really no different than going to Cairo - either way he'd take unwanted dicks up the ass. Then again, it was entirely different. If he went to Cairo, he would have to take an active role, to seduce. Here, it was rape. Here he had no say, and he could justify it that way. I'm sorry, Dustin... oh god, I'm sorry. Promise still to love me?

Time seemed to slow down. A procession of men invaded his flesh as the Smoker himself filmed his degradation with a video camera. At first it was merely annoying, but then it gradually became arousing despite his protests. They pulled and prodded him, stroked and chafed until at last his body betrayed him. Tears slid down his cheeks as the Smoker smiled thinly and recorded his shame.

When at last Alex lay, panting and in pain, the old man brandished a tape at him. "This is a little memento for your new pet. I would love to be there when he receives it, Alex. Perhaps I should deliver it personally, what do you think? I could console him for you. How would that be?"

Alex snarled, lunging for the Smoker and nearly choking himself. "You know what I think. He's not for you. You stay away from him, you bastard. He's too good for you." That tape, he thought, wildly. God. Dustin's strong, but if he sees that... me, hard like that. He'll know it was against my will. But still...

He looked at the Smoker, hatred darkening his eyes. The mail will get lost. Marita won't let him see the tape. She knows enough to grab his mail, doesn't she? Even his work mail... wait a minute.

Krycek snorted. "You think he'll believe that tape? He works in the movie industry. He knows pictures can be faked, images manipulated. He won't believe it. No, you won't get him that way. He's not like Mackey. He's not a roll over on command guy. I find I really like that." He looked at the other men.

"My new pet is too good for any of you. Like I said. Touch him; you're signing your own death warrant. You can't have him. He's mine, and you won't take him like you did Mackey."

Alex gave an inward smirk that CSM wasn't on tape fucking him. *If* Dustin got the tape, which he wouldn't, but if he did, he wouldn't have to see the Smoker fucking him. That was some small comfort.

He didn't feel so comforted a moment later, when the Smoker took a thin bamboo cane and began to beat him. Alex bit his lip when the first vicious slice cut his back, but as the beating continued, he couldn't choke back the cries that welled up. Twice he fainted, and was revived by having cold water thrown on him. Through it all, there was a camera recording his progress.

When at last he lay, bruised and bleeding, a young woman was summoned to rub salve onto his wounds. At first, the sensation was soothing, but then the ointment, whatever it was, set his back on fire. Alex began to scream and couldn't stop.

He bucked backwards, glaring at the woman. "What the hell is that?" He looked away from the camera, schooling himself not to scream. He succeeded until she put the salve onto his dick, rubbing him hard and vigorous.

She took his butt plug from the table, covered it with the stuff, and shoved it back in, hard. He screamed loudly as pain shot through his groin, pain like a fire that threatened to consume him.

"There, there, baby," the woman tutted, yanking his head back. "It's not so bad as all that, is it?" She leaned in for a kiss, taking one from him, whether he wanted to give it or not. He tried to struggle away, but of course he couldn't. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, tasting him. "Sweet, so sweet, baby," she murmured. "Now won't you be a good boy and do as your master says, so we won't have to hurt you any more?"

Krycek turned his gaze to the CSM.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Tell me." He wasn't broken, not yet, but sometimes the Smoker liked to talk about this sort of thing. He got off on it, got off on using Alex as pet, and seeing him used as such. Alex would indulge the old man if it bought him more time... if it got that woman away from him. He recognized her now; she'd hurt him before, too.

"Do? You know what I want you to do, Alex. I want you to go to Cairo for me, and bring back Haroun El Habibi. Are you going to go?" The Smoker crouched down at his side, fondling his face. "You always were far more attractive than the others. I've missed you a lot."

Alex cringed. "That old man... he scares me, Charles. Last time I was with him, he..." Krycek began to whimper like a child, leaning his head in to the Smoker's body. "Please, please, don't make me go back to him. Please. He's worse than Sergei... didn't I tell you what he did? Please, Charles. Anything but that. I'll let you have me... just please..."

He began weeping, remembering how the Egyptian had abused him, doing things to him even Sergei hadn't. Alex shivered, praying his master would take pity on him this time. His master loved him a little, didn't he?

"Silence." The word lashed at him like a whip. "You never used to talk back. It seems that you've been away from me for far too long." At Spender's gesture, Alex was released from the bench and shackles were placed at neck, hand and feet.

"I will ask you again tomorrow if you will go to Cairo and please me. Until then, I don't want to see you. Take him." He waved his hand and dismissed Alex.

Krycek whimpered and immediately chastised himself for acting like a child.

Why had he cracked? Now his master would never be kind to him again.

Fuck. Why was he thinking that way? The Smoker wasn't his master. He was leaving him. He spat at the men who came to take him, calling out after the Smoker, "Never! I will never go to that man! Nothing you can say or do will make me do that."

He shivered as the men roughly chained his hand to his feet, and led him down the corridor, onto an elevator to the basement, and into a dank, dark cell. The smell of the Black Oil leeched out, permeating the moist air, and light was non-existent. Alex whimpered. "No..."

When they left him chained to the wall and closed the door behind them, he was alone at last, alone in the darkness.

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

Marita walked into the hospital, finding the emergency room easily enough. A nurse directed her to the room where Dustin was sitting with Mackey.

"Dustin, I got your message. What happened? Oh - incidentally, I stopped at your house, parking at a distance, of course, and walked back to it. They're all over the place, but I was able to get you a few of the things I thought you might want - your sketchbook and laptop computer, some other things... so... what's the word?"

Putting his finger to his lips, Dustin drew her away from Mackey, who had fallen into a troubled sleep, tossing and turning as he mumbled incoherently.

"They've given him a sedative. He's severely concussed. His kidneys are damaged, and I don't know what else. That's quite apart from the burn to his cornea, and the others on his face. Who the hell did this? What did he do to deserve it?" He gripped Marita's wrist, suddenly fierce. "Are they going to do the same to Alex?"

Marita stiffened, then relaxed, reaching out to soothe Dustin as best she could with words.

"Mackey didn't do a damn thing, except show loyalty to a friend and a lover. The men we work for are bastards who feed on love and friendship the way a vampire feeds on blood. I told you the Smoker likes pain."

Her first response to Dustin's query about Alex --'all of that and more' -- would do no good here. Marita looked away before telling only the second lie she'd offered Dustin since they'd met, knowing that Alex would have done the same had he been counseling her lover.

"Alex is strong. They won't be able to break him tonight, or tomorrow. He'll be all right until Mackey can get to him. Remember, they won't kill him, or mark him permanently. They can't because Alex... well, he's used for..." Losing her icy demeanor, Marita turned to face the wall, choking back tears for her friend and onetime lover.

They had mutually agreed they were better off as friends, working in the Consortium as they were. Feelings for each other could be too easily turned against them, or interfere with either their objectivity or their work.

When she felt she could speak with a steady voice again, she said, "Mackey will spring him. He'll be back soon... I know it." Her thoughts didn't hold such conviction.

She squeezed Dustin's shoulder. "We gotta concentrate on getting a new place set up, and a new plan for Alex to escape him. "

Dustin hunched in on himself, shivering at the thought of Alex undergoing nameless and terrible tortures. Looking at Mackey, he felt closer to giving up than he ever had through all the difficulties that had been thrown at him during the Minnow affair. Alex mustn't go through this, he thought. Not if I can stop it.

"Why is this perverted bastard still breathing? How come you haven't used all your vaunted marksmanship and ability to kill the fucker? I'll kill him. Where is he?" He shook her shoulders, furious for a moment, until a faint sound of discomfort from her recalled to mind that she was a woman, and much smaller than he was.

"Sorry." He released her with something of a shamed face. He'd totally forgotten how she'd thrown him around only that morning.

Marita glared at Dustin. "It's not that simple. If it were, I assure you, he'd have been dead long ago. The fact is, he's a government operative at the deepest levels of the NWO. You do know what that is, don't you? And you can't just take him out. He's got people... and they have people... " She took a deep breath, then continued.

"Dustin, believe me, we've tried. God, have we tried! We thought he was dead once, but then Alex... found out he wasn't. God, you should be glad you didn't see the look on Alex's face. He went up with orders not to kill, but I believe he had intent... and motive. He tempered his impulse, though, as must you."

She smiled, not unkindly. "I can appreciate your wanting to protect Alex and kill the Smoker. But the thing is... you can't. You're so not ready to take him on, Grasshopper." She pulled him close and gave him a hug and a brief kiss on the cheek.

"But your intentions are good." She indicated Mackey. "How soon will he be ready to leave, if at all? And, good God, what did you tell the doctors?"

He'd pulled away from her unwanted familiarity. He was annoyed at her assumption that he was a mere babe in arms. He'd killed. True, he hadn't meant to, but he'd discovered just how easy death came, and when he killed again, he knew that it would be intentional. Too many people deserved to die. As her question sank in, he relaxed a little and faced her again.

"They assumed that it was a case of domestic violenceagain. They seemed to know us both, and they were hostile to me. I had to tell themhell, I had to prove that I was an innocent employee who had been called in to help the boss. They did some X-rays, and they're gonna keep him at least for tonight to make sure that there's no bleeding inside his skull."

Marita shook her head.

"Even Alex is never this cruel. " She sighed and went to try to soothe Mackey, which was easier said than done. He kept mumbling about finding his Alex, that Dustin would kill him, and other things she couldn't understand. No wonder they thought it was domestic violence. Thoughtfully, she looked at Dustin. "What happened after I left, Dustin? He wasn't this bad before... did you hit him?"

He shivered again.

"I wanted to. God knows I wanted to." Dustin's normally tan complexion had faded to paper white as he contemplated his own growing propensity for violence. "I didn't though. He kept on asking me to fuck him. I tried, but" At last the man gave way to the child, and Dustin broke down and sobbed. "I don't want to treat people like that, I don't!"

Marita felt for him. She walked to him slowly, realizing he had been nonplussed at her earlier hug, but wanting to give him comfort. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

"I see so much of Alex in you," she observed, leading him to a chair and sitting him down. "You need to learn to control your anger, your impulses, and you know what? I think what happened with Mackey is proof that you're getting yourself under control. That's a good thing... you can be proud of that. As to why Mackey is the way he is... it's a long story, but I'm glad you're working through your own issues and impulses. Unless you can think with a clear head, you'll be no help to Alex. Or Karl, for that matter."

"Why?" Dustin was still sobbing, but the jerky movement of his chest was the only indication of his distress. "What do you see of him in me?" When she didn't reply, he looked over at Karl, who had at last fallen into a deeper sleep. "And you have to explain to me about Mackey before I go completely off my head."

He sat, not moving, and just as she was about to respond, he seized both her hands and fixed her with the brilliance of his gaze.

"This may be all in a day's work for you, Mata Hari, but it's completely outside my world. Someone came crashing into my life and made me love him, and now I don't know how to help him. What do I do? For pity's sake, what do I do?"

Marita sighed. "All you can do is trust us... I know how hard that is. But if you go in now, they'll take you, and the Smoker will use you as a weapon. He'll torture you to make Alex bend to his will. No... It's best that you stay out of things." Seeing the flush of righteous indignation that rose up in him, she pressed a finger to his lips.

"There are things I can tell you about Alex and Mackey. Some I can't. There are parts of Alex I haven't been able to fathom in seven years of knowing him. He keeps himself locked up tight... with good reason."

Her eyes grew misty as she recalled some of the things she knew. "The story of Alexei Krycek is a tragic one, and one that is his to tell. What I will tell you is this: his parents were Russian scientists, lured here in the 60's by our CIA as part of a program to learn Russian defense department secrets. They took the money and the promise of a better life, but worked more for the shadow government than for either of their putative countries." She looked to see if he was following her so far.

"As I'm sure you can imagine, both countries wanted to execute his parents. They fled, leaving their son in the care of a man who worked for the State Department - a man they had every reason to believe would do right by him, as he had been loyal to them - and to this shadow government - that was even then in operation. Everything was fine until Alex was about 13. Then, the KGB got wind of where he was."

"Thinking to use him to get to his parents, who by this time were living in Tunisia in seclusion, the KGB arranged a deal with the Smoker - the boy in return for putting the Smoker where he could get and give the old boy spy network information - a gulag housing political dissidents from both countries. The Consortium was very much in operation, and the Smoker came and went at will.. The things Alex was forced to do and have done to him to get these secrets... they weren't at all pretty, or kind, or decent."

"After the Cold War ended, Alex was called back to Washington, to perform the same duties elsewhere in the world. . Until recently, when Alexei's parents died of apparently natural causes, the Smoker kept Alex under his thumb by threatening to expose their whereabouts to the KGB. Oh, that's right. You asked about Mackey. All I can tell you is that he met Alex in the gulag, and they bonded closely there. For reasons known only to him, the Smoker brought Karl home with Alex, training him to be Alex's pet and forcing Alex to be his master. Of course by that time..." she looked away, troubled.

Looking back at Dustin, she finished, "Alex had been mistreated so badly it was almost - no, it was - another form of torture to dominate one so trusting. But things... the circle has a way of coming round. As you can see, Dustin, slavery is still very much alive." She swallowed hard, and fell silent, moving to stand beside Mackey, wiping his sweaty brow with paper towels she'd moistened with water. She tasted bitter salt as she shed a tear for her friend, hoping he was all right. Here, Alex, take my strength, she thought. I'm 3,000 miles away but you need it.

Dustin had remained silent through the long drawn out confidences, hoping to hear more about his enigmatic lover. When Marita slowly fell silent, he too was quiet. Time stretched, and at last he spoke.

"Why?" he whispered, more to himself than to Marita. "Why did Alex allow this to happen to him? How can I help him?"

At last, he raised his eyes to Marita's. They had grown hard, green glass, as determined as stars on their courses.

"I will help him. You know that, don't you? Karl is sad, but not like my Alex. Alex has never had a chance." He continued to stare at Marita, daring her to say any different.

Marita's eyes were just as hard. "Do you love him, Dustin? Do you truly love him?"

His eyes softened, and for a moment, he didn't speak. When he did, it was softly, as if to himself.

"When he made me accept his love, I was not only angry, I was terrified. He came from nowhere, and forced me to look at myself. It's only been a few days, but he's turned my life around. I don't think I was ever able to trust anyone before, but Alex Alex stabbed a man for me, to save me from my own stupidity, and he gave me something that I've never had before. I've never felt that anyone loved me as I am, rather than for what I could give them. Yes, I love him." His words halted, and he couldn't continue. Dustin stood and stumbled over to Mackey.

"Alex... has that affect on people." She swallowed, remembering hard lessons learned. "He... God, oh God, he's... sometimes... this is going to sound crazy, but sometimes I see him as a martyr. Can you understand that?"

Looking up into Dustin's eyes, she could see that he did. "Alex is... a very special friend. I... I couldn't bear it if anything happened to him. Now I see that you couldn't, either. I must admit I was wary of you at first. He was so overjoyed to have found you, so... he feels like... well, I should let him tell you." She looked thoughtful again. "I was just worried that he... that you... I misjudged you, Dustin, and I'm sorry. It's just... he needs someone he can put his back up against. Someone who'll understand him. And ... accept him. He... may act strong, but on the inside he's... he feels he's worthless. Because of the things he's been made to do, the things people have done to him. I don't think he can take much more." She raised her eyes to meet his. "After his parents died, the Smoker had no real power over him anymore. Once they died, he was free to try to escape him. But now that the Smoker knows about you, he has something to hold over him again. Which is why," she concluded, "we have to play this perfectly. Do you understand what I told you about him? About what the Smoker... did to him, made him do?"

Dustin shifted uneasily, and made a play of studying the still unconscious Mackey. Finally, he turned and looked at Marita, eyes glowing fierce and strained in the set, white face.

"No. I understand that he's hurting, and that I have to help him. What did they do to him? And why? I don't understand a single thing about that." His voice was thick with the unshed tears, and his countenance, so like Alex's, seemed to fall in on itself. "Help me understand, Marita, but know that I will save him, if it kills me."

Marita sighed again. How much plainer could she make it? They make him sleep with men for information, and hurt him if he refuses. And the men he sleeps with hurt him if he does.

"I think... I..." She tried to hold back a tear, but couldn't. She knew that even now the Smoker was hurting Alex, breaking him. "You should talk to him about it, not me. He..." She turned away. "I don't feel comfortable talking about this. It's painful and very private. He should tell you."

Just then, blessedly, a nurse came in to check Mackey's vital signs. "He won't be able to speak much tonight," she advised. "Why don't you go on home and come by tomorrow?" She shot Dustin a glare, and Marita bristled. The nurse continued to stare disapprovingly until Marita took Dustin's hand and led him out of the room and down the hall, toward the exit.

"If you want to help Alex, the best thing you can do is stay in LA. I know the Smoker - boy, do I - and I promise you, he'd love nothing better than to capture you and use you to hurt Alex. He'd probably turn you into a puppet of his, as well. That man sucks the soul out of you, Dustin. So, the best thing for you is to stay here. Mackey will get him out by tomorrow evening, or the following morning. Alex is strong, he'll hold out that long. Meantime, we'll continue your lessons. If you were serious about being his partner, you've got some catching up to do. He's been in the game most of his life, after all."

Stopping short, he grabbed her other hand and whirled her to face him, desperately scrutinizing her face.

"Let me ask you this, Marita. If you loved someone - I don't mean as a friend, I mean if you felt sick to your soul if they were out of your life for more than a day or so, would you be able to stand by and wait? Would you be able to stay back and pin all your faith on a broken man? Would you?" The grip he had on her hands grew tighter and tighter as he spoke.

Suddenly realizing that he was hurting her, Dustin let her go. His cry was that of a little child, hurt, and uncertain. "I'm sorry. You have to understand. He's mine, and I want him back."

Marita stepped back. "Yours? Are you sure, Dustin?" Before he could reply, she looked away and continued, "You'll have to fight monsters to bring him back. You better be willing to do that." She glared at him. "He told me he worried about your seriousness, because of your 'Mr. Secret Agent Man' comment. I know you want to rush to him. That's natural, but sometimes what one must do is the most unnatural thing. Mackey can get him out, because he is who he is. The Smoker will let him." She decided to be blunt, to make an impression. She leaned in to hiss in his ear. "He would fuck you up the ass, and make him watch. Is that what you want?" Turning, she headed for the car, knowing Dustin would follow, but wanting him to know she was cross.

His fingers itched to slap her, and he clenched them, digging them into the palms of his hands as he repressed the impulse. Following, he tried to trust that Mackey would be well enough to save his lover, and knew that he wouldn't.

"If it was for Alex, I could bear it," he hissed at the blonde icicle. "Could you?" His head throbbed with the effort to restrain himself.

She whirled on him. "I've borne more for Alex than you will ever know. How dare you imply I wouldn't? I've been there for him. Where were you when the Smoker held his head underwater until he almost drowned because he fled a man he was to seduce, when the man did terrible things to him? Where were you when he was locked in a silo and left to die? Where were you when..."

She shook her head. "All right, look. I feel as impotent as you do. But if I work with you, help you to learn, then we have a chance to save him. Better that we work together than at cross purposes." She softened her voice. "Look, I want him back just as much as you do. It's just that marching in there will not help him at all!"

She sighed. This man had Alex's stubbornness, as well. "Look, why don't you tell me what you have in mind." And I'll tell you why it won't work, she vowed silently. "Tell me, Dustin. What would you do to rescue him?"

Dustin's brows furrowed. This woman was pushing her luck. He wanted to take her by the throat and choke her, but the pragmatist in him heard what she was saying and knew what she meant. Yet he attempted to answer.

"Whatever it would take," he flared. "What about you?"

She sighed, getting into the car, and looked at him. "I would do whatever it would take, as long as it had a prayer of working. I see your point. I do."

She wanted him to calm down, but she knew how he felt. She suddenly felt guilt that she wasn't there in DC now. Well, fuck. Alex had asked her to watch out for Dustin, and that meant keeping him in LA. Alex had told her that if he was brought back, not to let Dustin follow. Maybe she should tell Dustin that. But would it help? Maybe, if he realized it was what Alex wanted. So she told him, adding, "Besides. If you did go out there, and anything happened to you, he'd feel an irrevocable guilt. He'd feel it was his fault. And he'd be right, in a way - if it weren't for him, you wouldn't be there." She shook her head. "God, this is hard. I know. I lost things to them, too. Lost people." She looked at him.

"Can you understand this, Dustin? It's not an attack on you. I feel nothing but... respect for your enthusiasm, and devotion, for your desire to go in and save him. Those things tell me that you do love him." She thought for a moment, looking into his eyes helplessly. "What do you want me to do? Admit that I never loved him the way you do? Perhaps I didn't. But we decided to end that part of our relationship before we got to the point where we would die rather than compromise the other. We were weaker than you are. Okay? Happy? I'll never be half the man you are."

She stared out the windshield, face a stone mask. Fuck. Dustin had tried to make her feel guilty, and damn if he hadn't succeeded. But where did he get off? Knowing what she had to do, Marita looked at him. "I'm sorry, Dustin. Look, it'd be a lot better for Alex if we could drop this and work together. Okay? Please? For Alex? All right?"

He turned his shoulder to her angrily, not wanting to hear the messages her cold voice relayed.

"Go on, then," Dustin spat. If I go along with you, and I'm not saying yet that I will go along with you, then what are we going to do? Lay it out for me." He paused, and looked at her stony face to gauge her reaction. "Listen, you'd better tell me now if you consider me a rival, and we'll take it from there. How is Mackey going to help? The man can't even help himself. What the hell does he have that I don't?"

Without even thinking, Dustin had been driving home, and as he finished speaking, he roared his little car around the corner and into his driveway.

"Dustin, what are you..." She whirled her head. "Back up, back up! You can't --"

This man's stubbornness and impulsiveness was going to get them in trouble. She reached over and cut the wheel sharply across the grass and into the street. She didn't think anyone had seen them.

"A rival? Is that what this is about? Alex and I are good friends who've been through a lot together. If that's a problem for you, that we've known each other longer than you two have, I'm sorry, but I can't really help that. What I can do is offer you weapons and combat training, give you some pointers, some skills. I can help you so that if you do meet this man, you won't be a sitting target. If you insist on going after him, naturally, I will follow to protect you. But I'd rather you waited and did this our way. If I have known Alex longer than you, I certainly know how the consortium works, and the best way to get to their people."

She continued, "I know you think of Mackey as broken, as not able to stand up on his own. Let me ask you this: how did you see him before you met Alex? Before you knew what he was to Alex? I'll bet he seemed pretty normal to you then, if not imposing. Mackey is... another man of more than one face. He will go in, convince the Smoker he wants revenge, and get them to release Alex. We'll give him a day. After that, we'll go in. All right? Fair enough? I want time to teach you about the place we'll be going, should it come to that, and the people involved as well as mind games that they play. We'll do better if you're informed." She softened her voice again. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Defeated, Dustin nodded. There seemed to be no answer that didn't involve Karl and this cold woman who professed to be Alex's friend. He was tired. He was more than tired, and he wanted to curl up and mourn his lost love. Instead, he turned to Marita.

"All right. Where are we going? I'm all out of bright ideas."

Marita smiled. "Thank you for being willing to listen. I know I'd feel the same way if John were in danger." She glanced over at him, kindly. "How about a motel, for now?" She almost laughed... peeling out from his house, going to a motel... dj vu, Dustin? She shook her head, and grinned. "But I won't sleep with you." She hoped he knew she was joking. After all that tension, they could do with a laugh.

The look that he gave her was scorching. The joke was lost against the mention of a motel. What was it with these folks and motels? He turned the car and headed for the airport, and the security of one of the better hotels in its vicinity.

"John?" he asked. "Who's John?"

Marita smiled. "He's my lover, a security consultant for the Pentagon... a computer programmer." She looked at him. "Maybe you'll meet him one day." Her smile widened for a moment, as she thought of John's soft brown eyes and brown hair, geek-chicishly unkempt.

"He's a geek, but he's so loveable. Sometimes it's really nice to come home to some place... domestic." She nodded as they pulled up to the hotel. "Good choice, Dustin. Maybe you'll learn quicker than I thought." She smiled, a real smile.

Racing through the checking in procedure, Dustin made no objection when she brushed him aside and presented her credit card. Once they were in the room, he turned to her.

Plopping down on one of the beds, Dustin urged, "Okay, teach. Go for it. Instruct. Inform. Enlighten." He was slightly more relaxed than he had been, although his inner soul felt shriveled at the thought of what Alex might be going through. His every nerve jumped with the need to go and recover his lover now, before any harm could come to him.

Marita laughed as she joined him. "My, my, aren't we eager. Okay. First, the shadow government." She began going over the secret agenda that had been in existence for decades, the fodder of conspiracy buffs everywhere.

Dustin seemed surprised to learn much of the speculation was true, or at least had its basis in fact. She went through the one world government, the secret societies, and the dictum of absolute power corrupting absolutely. She talked about greed, and knowledge as power. The need to keep the masses in the dark to maintain the power at the top. She went over the history of spies, from ancient Rome to modern corporate espionage over the Internet.

One of the salient points was that through the ages, prostitutes and courtesans were often employed as spies. It seemed that people were easily tricked by lust (or love) into revealing that which they otherwise would not.

Here, she paused, got up and crossed to the bar, pouring them each a glass of wine. On her way back to her bed, she turned on the radio - the song that was playing was "Last Kiss" by J. Frank Wilson and the Cavaliers. She frowned, and changed the station - "Wild Horses," by the Sundays, drifted out. Disgusted, she turned it off and handed Dustin his glass before sitting down on the edge of her bed.

When he moved to take a sip, she nearly knocked the glass out of his hand. "You never, ever take a drink unless you fix it yourself, or you damn sure know who's giving it to you." She opened her palm to reveal a white powder in a glassine envelope.

"That's all it would take," she said, setting the envelope to one side. Watching him, she took a sip of her wine. "Go on, get your own drink." She gestured to the mini-bar. "Just remember what I said."

Lesson delivered, she went back to the original agenda. "What would you like to do now? More shooting, or fighting. We can go over this stuff while we're doing that, you know."

"I don't suppose that I can start shooting here in the hotel room. What else is there?" Dustin had found himself a portion-sized scotch and was now adding ice and soda.

Kicking off his shoes and socks, Dustin wriggled his toes appreciatively. "Better teach me to kill, Blondie. I think that's the thing I'm gonna need most." He raised his glass to her in an ironic toast, and then sipped at his drink.

She laughed, glancing at the glassine envelope to check that the seal was still intact.

"Just checking. With that evil grin of yours..." She smiled. "You look so comfortable with your shoes off. Why don't we go over martial arts and pressure points? You can kill, and severely disable, with those."

She set her drink down, and got up into a basic defensive stance, arms in front of her face and torso, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She flipped Dustin thrice, and he flipped her twice, although she teased that she only let him win. This earned her a smirk. She shook her head.

"All right. Enough of that. Let's go for the jugular - or at least the carotid." She took his hands and placed them at the sides of her neck, stroking them down over her carotids. "There. At the base. Feel that pulse?" she reached out and felt his, pressing one lightly. "See how just that cuts off some blood flow to the brain? Imagine doing that to both at once with extreme pressure. Another great one is the ears, right behind them... that bony plate. Here."

She passed his hands back behind her ears, also lightly rubbing his. "Hit hard enough, that can cause instant death. Especially on the left side, if I recall. Oh, the nose thing you may have heard of? Hurts like hell, incapacitates for a while, but it's not deadly enough, and too obvious. Better to use a quick strike to the larynx with forked fingers or quick jabs to between the ribs. And don't forget the solar plexus! That can cause death too!" Marita demonstrated all these things with soft, gentle, harmless versions of the moves, inviting Dustin to follow.

"Of course, if someone comes up behind you -" she turned around and guided Dustin's hands around her throat. "You can always twist his pinkies. A hard stomp on the instep is always a good bet - but better if you combine it with a swift jab into the armpits, like this." She showed him what she meant. "Of course, some of these may be tough if your attacker already has you on the ground." She tripped him, but braced his fall. "Then you have to fight from your back -- not as helpless a position as it might seem! Here, try this... twist, roll, and hook... trip me, too." She fell on top of him, bracing herself with an arm. "Now. Grab my arm and twist it... uh uh uh! Gotta make yourself as small a target as possible... keep those arms over your chest, too. Don't leave yourself exposed."

She jabbed at his neck and solar plexus. "Got you." She rolled off him, and wiped her brow. "You wanna go for some more?"

Dustin grew more and more frustrated as she tossed him around, seemingly at will. Finally, he growled and began to fight back, no longer pulling his punches as he tried increasingly hard to best the irritating woman who seemed so frail and yet so easily made him feel foolish. Time and again he tried - and failed - to best her, and he finally backed off, panting, his hands held high.

"Okay, I give up. So what I do is open the door, toss you in and then close it again? If I wait an hour or two, all I need to do is go back in and sweep up the bodies?" He reached for his drink.

She grinned. "If you like. But don't you think it'd be more fun if you fought with me? Come on, you're improving. Don't give up now. Let's go."

Pulling him up by an arm she steadied him. "Now. Don't think. Feel. Remember the scene in Star Wars where Luke is learning to use his light saber and Obi Wan blindfolds him and he has to hit the remote using the force alone? No kidding, the force exists. Now. Close your eyes if you want, and just - feel. All instinct. Pure viscera. Don't be a gutless wonder, boy!" She backed up a few paces, closing her own eyes. As he stepped towards her, she felt it, in the puffs of air, or smelled it, or whatever, but she sensed it... and dodged. "Try again, Grasshopper," she said breezily.

He muttered a curse and backed away, falling to the ground with his legs extended to sweep hers out from under her the way that she had shown him earlier. Barely restraining his crow of triumph, he moved in to apply a chokehold she'd demonstrated, and found himself holding his throat as she dealt him a blow to the larynx and evaded him yet again.

This time, he turned the air blue with his comments about 'The Force' and where he thought that she ought to put it. Finally, he sat up ruefully.

"I really need to sleep, Marita," he admitted. It's been a hellish day. Maybe I'll do better if I'm fresh. Do you want the bathroom first, or shall I?"

"Go ahead, Grasshopper. I have your back, remember? Oh, oh!" With that, she smirked and leaped nimbly to the bathroom door, checking for any intruders. "The coast is clear," she said with a histrionic curtsey. "It's all yours." Walking back to her bed, she took out a small toilet kit and began brushing her hair.

Shaking his head, Dustin made his way into the bathroom, a wry grin on his face. He wasn't sure whether the woman was joking or serious right then. She was doing her best to put him at ease, but there was an ever-growing knot in his chest and he suspected that it wouldn't leave him until he knew just what was happening with Alex.

As he brushed his teeth and made himself ready for bed, he thought back to the previous night, to the man who was gone, and who had taken his heart with him

"Alex" The name was spoken softly, but the anguish in Dustin's voice was harsh. The pain he was feeling was real, unmistakable. "Come back to me, please, come back. I will find you."

Marita took the time he was in the bathroom to get change into pajamas - light, yet suitable in case a midnight flight was required. She folded her clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed. Taking out a travel toothbrush, she idly rolled it between her fingers as she reflected on the events of the day. Dustin. He was exactly as Alex had said - like him in attitude as well as features. Oh, he was greener - more impulsive, nave, but that was only to be expected. Dustin hadn't - thank God - grown up as Alex had. She idly thought about the CIA's project Monarch, and how children were abducted, especially in the early 80's, brainwashed, and used as diplomatic sex slaves for blackmail. It would have been funny if it weren't so horrible. Milk cartons slapped with the faces of children who would never be found. Children whom, even now, were on the run from their captors, hiding their identities from their parents, sleeping in gutters and alleyways, sending anonymous postcards home.

She walked to the sink by the bar with a sigh. So much evil in the world... why did it have to be like this? Because of a few greedy men who revered power? What gave them the right? Spitting out toothpaste, she turned her back and went back to sit on her bed. She looked out the window, and got back up, restless. She walked over and looked out at the LA skyline. So many people... all so ignorant of what was really happening right next to them. It made her sad.

Sighing she looked past LA, across the country, and tried to imagine Alex, and how he was holding up. Had they broken him yet? Was he hurting, or drugged into oblivion? Was he cold? Hungry? What was he thinking about, but mostly, how much longer could he hold out? We're coming, Alex... hang on. Hang on.

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

At that moment, Alex Krycek was strapped to the wall of his dank cell, spread eagled like the martyr Marita sometimes called him. He'd been permitted not even a loincloth, and his arm ached from the strain of hanging there, suspended. Periodically a nurse would come in and let him down for a little while, so they didn't kill him or hurt him too permanently. But it was dark, and cold, and damp... and the oil, the smell of the oil... it took him back to the pits of the gulag. There, as now, his stomach had cried with sharp hunger pangs and the only visible light appeared as slits through wooden planks above him. He could hear people talking... was that Russian they were speaking? He heard a squeak from across the room, and a shiver went through him. Hold tight, Alex. It's your imagination. You know this. You're in DC, not Siberia...

Damn if he wasn't cold though.

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

Dustin emerged from the bathroom clad only in his underwear. He was going to have to go shopping first thing in the morning, or he wouldn't be nice to know. He'd been in these clothes for 2 days already. He saw that Marita was in one of the beds, sitting up, leaning against the pillows. He grinned at her apologetically and made for the other bed.

"I'mer really tired. Totally wiped out." He scrambled into the bed, sighing histrionically. 'I'm gonna be good, I promise."

"No worries," she said. "I wouldn't expect you not to be." She sighed. "It's been a long couple of days for you, hasn't it?" As soon as she said the inadequate words, she immediately regretted them. He likely needed time and space to sort things out. But just in case she was wrong,, she offered, "If you need anything, or want to go over anything we've talked about, all you have to do is ask. But if you don't want to talk, that's all right, too."

Dustin lay back with a sigh. "I'm so confused." His brain was humming with the events of the past few days. "He's got to be okay." He rolled over to look at her. "You know that he's not gonna be okay, don't you?" His voice broke as he spoke.

She looked at him, saying what she knew with her eyes. She owed it to him not to be a stone, not to wear the mask.

"I'd like to believe that he will be. I really would. But..." She had to stop and swallow. "He'll have a rough night. I hope Mackey gets to him before --" After a moment, she found the strength to finish. "Before he breaks totally."

She searched Dustin's face. "Know this: your love for him is keeping him strong. Knowing that you love him, he just might make it. When you're alone in the dark, sometimes love is all you have. He knows you cherish him as you do, doesn't he?" She looked into his face, trying to read him. She couldn't, as he veiled his eyes beneath luxurious lashes.

"I hope so. It's only been two days - maybe three. We haven't exactly had what you might call time to consolidate anything." Dustin frowned, willing her to understand. Visions of green eyes, gazing tenderly down at him, chased away everything else as he lay, thinking about what he'd lost.

"We have to" he choked. "Oh, God, we have to help him." His eyes were closed against her gaze, but there was pain on his face, and there was no mistaking his feelings.

"We will," she said softly. "We will. We'll get him back for you." She couldn't bear to see the familiar face twisted in pain. "We'll help him. Promise. He'll be back to you. I just want you to know... that he loves you. With all his heart, he loves you."

Her eyes misted as she put herself in Dustin's place. "I know... I know. They had John once... of course, the situation was different. I guess you can take comfort in that. They won't kill him, or scar him permanently." Then she frowned, her mouth tasting of acid, knowing that she was referring to physical scars. Dustin hadn't appreciated the full implications of the short history she had given him. Maybe there was a God, after all.

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

The world was fuzzy and grey. Karl Mackey didn't remember ever hurting so badly in his life. His face was on fire; his back was in agony, and his heart His heart felt strangely empty, though he couldn't understand why. There were bandages on one eye, and it was hard to see through the other. Hearing footsteps, he croaked in an attempt to use his voice.

"Please? Could I have a drink? I'm dying of thirst."

Doctor Peter O'Donnell swept into the room, followed by a few interns, residents, and a nurse. They all gathered round as one.

O' Donnell asked the nurse to get Mackey a glass of water. "I see chauvinism is still alive and well," she muttered, but moved to do as he'd requested.

Mackey had been moved from the ER during the night. O'Donnell consulted his clipboard. "Mr. Mackey? How are you doing this morning?"

"Feel like shit. Head aches." Karl's response was terse. "What happened?" He racked his brain in an attempt to recall how he had gotten to the hospital. Vague snatches of scenes from the previous day fluttered by him. He could recall Alex coming to see him, bathing his face, and -

Alex. Oh, no! Alex. Karl whimpered. They had taken him. Alex was gone.

Dr. O' Donnell gazed down at him, flipping through his chart.

"You know, I was hoping you could tell us that." Finding the scale he needed on the daily flow sheet, he prepared to mark it. "Do you know your name?"

The nurse returned with the water, and O'Donnell reluctantly stepped back to allow her to give Mackey a drink of it.

"What year is it? Who's the President?"

"President?" Mackey snickered a little, and promptly choked on his water, spraying it onto himself and the nurse. A slight delay occurred as she fussed around him, wiping the residue away and settling him more comfortably against the pillows. Finally, the doctor was once more ready to continue his examination.

What is your first name, sir?"

Karl blinked. He couldn't see the doctor clearly, but he had a vague idea of where he was standing.

"I'm Karl. Karl Mackey. The year is 2000, and the President is a very interesting question at the moment. I guess I need to go with Clinton just for the sake of the quiz." He fell silent, thinking about how he could get out and go after Alex.

The interns shifted position, amused by the exchange. Dr. O' Donnell made a note. "Very good," he said brusquely. "Do you know why you're here?"

Karl felt anger well up. "Listen," he hissed. "I'm not even sure where 'here' is. How the hell did I get here? To steal a clich, where am I?" He was, after all, the CEO of a large and successful movie production company. Nobody spoke to Karl Mackey that way. Nobody, save for Alex.

Dr. O'Donnell consulted his notes and looked at one of the interns. "Jon, I want a neuro consult stat. And Jeff, did you call social services yet?" The interns scurried off to do their master's bidding.

Looking down at Mackey, Dr. O'Donnell consulted his notes. "Mr. Mackey, you're in the hospital. Your... lover... Dustin Yarma... brought you in last evening, after what looked like a bout of domestic violence... perhaps the most immediate concern is that you suffered a severe concussion."

The words burst around Karl like a roman candle. He squinted painfully in an attempt to see the doctor more clearly.

"Dustin isn't my lover. He's my employee." Not my lover, he thought. I only have one lover. Dustin is he's Dustin, but he's not my lover. "How long before I can get out of here, doc?"

"As soon as we're satisfied you're okay. We need some tests that I've ordered, and I've also got a social worker coming to speak with you about domestic violence." He looked at Mackey sternly. "Whatever Dustin is, he's not doing you any favors." Dr. O'Donnell prepared to leave. "You just sit tight, Mr. Mackey, and a nurse will be in shortly to prep you for your tests. Do you have any questions?" he called as he headed for the door.

"Hell yes!" Mackey's yell brought the doctor and his retinue to a standstill, as sudden as it was complete. "Where do you get off with your attitude? How dare you make a judgment like that without knowing the facts? Domestic violence? A gang of thugs broke into my home and beat me up. Yarma wasn't even there at the time. How dare you imply that I would that I" Karl thought of Alex, and his anger grew in leaps and bounds.

Taking a deep breath, Karl continued, "All I need is a bottle of painkillers and a ride home. I'm a busy man. I don't have time for this shit." He fell silent, and a giggle from the gathered throng of the consultant's followers was distressingly audible in the sudden silence.

"You think that's all you need?" Dr. O'Donnell said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize they were handing out medical degrees in Hollywood. If they are, and you're any example, I'm frightened for my profession." He looked around at his retinue, inviting them to share the joke, and a couple of the interns snickered, as did the nurse, who finally began checking his vital signs. Dr. O'Donnell continued, "We need a CT scan. Do you know what a concussion is?"

As he permitted the nurse to check his pulse, Karl took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts. "A concussion is bruising of the brain, isn't it?" Mackey asked. "I think it would be a very good idea for you to spare me a minute or two more from your busy schedule. I'm paying for this service, after all. So tell me, doc, what do you think I need? And if I need a second opinion, I won't hesitate to get one."

Mackey wondered if the doctor was even half way capable. Disgruntled, he sought the nurse. His vision was clearing, but not really well.

"Nurse, is my cell phone handy?" he asked, ignoring the doctor's huff of annoyance.

The nurse looked to O' Donnell, who shrugged. She brought Mackey's cell phone to him. Evidently, Dustin had had the foresight to bring it along to the hospital. The doctor sighed. "If you want one, that is certainly your privilege. I'm just telling you what I think is best."

"I appreciate that, doctor. I'm sure that you are doing what you feel needs to be done for my care, but you aren't listening to me. Firstly, Yarma is my associate, not my lover, and secondly, I really need to discuss the invasion of my home with the police. Finally, I want to hear what you think my prognosis is. I am your patient at the moment, after all, and as such, I'm entitled to hear it." He smiled as he spoke, thinking inside, that if this pompous asshole didn't unbend soon, he'd toast him over hot coals.

"Yes, well," O' Donnell said. "Personally, I don't care about your relationship with that man; I was told you were a likely DV victim down from the ER. As to your concussion, I'm not sure how much damage was done, so I can't tell you what the prognosis is." He smiled a bit. "We need the CT scan for that. Meantime, I recommend you rest, drink a lot of fluids, and take a course of anti-inflammatory drugs for the swelling." He nodded to Karl's cell phone. "If you call the police, they'll come here."

"Thank you, doctor," Mackey said with dignity. "I'm sure that you're going to tell me just what my problems are, and how long it will take for me to recover fully." He smiled, the very picture of a CEO, accustomed to power. Inside, he was screaming.

"You'll be the first to know," smiled Dr. O' Donnell. "Meantime, if you need anything, just ask. How do you feel? That's the best indicator we have at the moment. Any lapses in memory, absurd memories... anything like that?"

"Absurd memories?" Mackey thought back. What, in his recent life, could not be classed as absurd? He took a deep breath and addressed the doctor that he still couldn't see.

"How long do you estimate that I will need to be here?"

"That depends. Concussions can be tricky - you may feel fine, and then not so good all of a sudden. I'd like to keep you for another day at least, to be sure, depending on what the scan says." Sensing that Mackey was about to object, he said, "Of course, if you really need to get back to work..." He winked. "We would have to readmit you if you start feeling confusion, dizziness, or worse in any way. Leaving runs contrary to my best advice, though. You really should stay here, where you can be monitored around the clock."

Alex! All Karl could think of was his love, all alone, and that evil, smoking son of a bitch taking pleasure in hurting him.

"It's incredibly important that I return to the office fast, Doc. You could almost say that it's a matter of life and death." He lay back once again, dizzy, but determined. He had to save Alex.

"Well, if you're bound and determined to leave, I can't legally keep you. But I'd like to at least give you some pills. Of course, you can't go anywhere if you can't walk. Can you stand?" In the officious stance he'd previously taken, he had neglected to check this. Going from his ER notes, he had simply expected Mackey to roll over and spread his cheeks, so to speak. Now that he hadn't, O'Donnell was forced to take a second, harder look.

"Doc, I'll do whatever you recommend, of course, but please be aware that I'm working to a deadline here." With emphasis on 'dead,' he thought. "You must understand that I have a company to run, and that I'm not permitted time off for even the best of good behavior." All of a sudden, the words he had been speaking began to hollow and change, resonating within his head until he wanted to throw up. "Sorry," he said, before losing consciousness.

Dr. O' Donnell bent to help the fallen man, demanding assistance from the milling students. Three came, and they lifted Mackey back into bed. "So much for going home," he told Mackey, whose eyelids fluttered a little.

"You don't understand," mumbled Mackey. "I have to go and help Alex. They'll hurt him."

He groped for the cell phone that had been placed at his bedside, and thumbed the speed dial that would call Dustin's cell phone. "Hello, Dustin?" A woman's voice responded. He believed that he knew the voice, but thoughts of her made him nervous.

"Is that Marita? Is Alex there?"

Marita sighed. "No, Mackey. Alex is in DC... and you promised to help him, remember? How are you feeling? Karl, I've gotten you an airline ticket. Plane leaves in two hours. Can you handle that?"

"I - I don't know," he stammered. Swinging his legs around again, he attempted to climb out of the bed. The world whirled around him most disconcertingly, and he found himself on the ground once more, his phone lying where it had bounced, several feet from him.

"If you want me to help, you have to get me out of here," he moaned, unsure if he would be heard.

A nurse rushed over to him, and helped Mackey, determined that he was going to function one way or another, back to bed. "I don't think you're going anywhere," she said, picking up the phone, and handing it to him. "You'll be no help to anyone in this condition."

Mackey lay in his bed, and the tears began to flow.

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

Alex hung in his chains, cold, scared and alone. The lights above had gone out now, so the floorboard cracks afforded him nothing. All he heard was dripping water, the scurrying of rats. He smelled the musty room, and the black oil. Hungry... where was he? No, he knew where he was. Why was he here? How? He tried to look around, but couldn't see in the dark.

A gentle hand stroked his face.

"Hello?" The voice was one that he thought he'd heard before, but Alex couldn't quite place it. "You must be new here. Did you displease the boss?"

Krycek tilted his head, speaking in the small voice of a 15-year-old boy, a boy out of time.

"Sergei hit me... didn't mean to grab the food... was so hungry... so hungry." He flinched away from the direction from which the voice had come, though his chains held him fast. "Daddy always said I was a pretty boy..."

"Damned hard to see what you are down here, boy. Are you hungry now? Here." Something was pressed against Alex's lips. The texture indicated that it was bread, and when he tasted it tentatively, it proved to be exactly that.

"Want a drink, kid? Got a little water, too. Hold still." There was a shuffling, and the presence seemed to diminish, returning moments later with a container that seemed to Alex to be a tin can which held water, brackish for sure, but sorely needed, and delicious for all its staleness.

Alex sipped nervously. "Please... don't tell Sergei. He'll hurt me if he finds out." His eyes slid around, looking for the other person in the cell. Suddenly Alex jerked his head back, narrowing his eyes, suspicious.

"You're not Karl. This is a trick... a trick." His voice wavered, before finally cracking. "Please, please no... all right... what do I have to do for it?"

"Shhh" The sibilant voice was soft. "Just drink. I don't want anything. I know how tough it can be down here. Why are you here? Did you do something bad?" Hands patted his flesh nervously, and he felt the can lifted to his lips again. "Drink. You need it. I can get more."

"I... I stole some food. And water. But I was so thirsty... hungry, too. Sergei hasn't fed me since I can't remember when... wants to fuck me all the time but I can't if I'm this hungry. He says I'm getting fat. But I know I'm not. Karl says I'm losing weight. Have you seen Karl?" He gratefully sipped at the water. "Who are you? How'd you get down here?"

The can was soon empty. Alex licked around the edges disconsolately, hoping for more. The receptacle was withdrawn, and the other, still hidden by darkness, offered the bread once again.

"I'm Alex. I've been here for a long time. Ever since they cut off my arm. I never stop trying to get out, but they always catch me and bring me back even though they don't seem to know what they want me for."

"Alex? That's... my name is Alex, too. Alex Krycek. They took your arm? They're really cruel here. Won't love you no matter how good you are. Even my daddy never starved me or locked me up like this. He hurt me when I was bad, but... then... he sent me away. To this place. Why did they cut off your arm?"

"They cut it off because I was bad. I betrayed Fox Mulder. I didn't deserve to keep my arm. Where's your daddy now?"

The voice was a high-pitched whisper, and as Alex chewed on the offering of bread, he felt his benefactor's other hand roaming over his trapped body, stroking down over ribs and stomach towards his groin.

"Who's Fox Mulder? Is he a boss here? My daddy... not supposed to talk about him. My daddy used to hold me and kiss me. Told me I was a good boy, and so pretty. He had the most loving voice when he said that. He used to ... show me how to make men happy, and he'd love me afterward."

Alex felt the other's hands on him, and knew he should offer something for the food he'd been given. But Sergei would punish him if he found out. Sergei said he was Alex's daddy now. Alex didn't shrink from the hand - hands! -- Two hands, said a small voice inside his head -- but he didn't arch into it, either.

"You can have me if you want... Alex... but if Sergei finds out, he'll hurt me. Don't tell him, okay?" The stroking went lower, lower, and felt so good, so much like the love he craved. "Cold, Alex, I'm so cold." And he leaned his head to the side, looking to try and see this other Alex, who comforted him so well. He was strapped in chains, but he wanted to be held... "Get me down from here and I'll let you do what you want to me... I hurt... hurt so much. Why did daddy send me away? I was his good boy, his pretty boy."

Suddenly, there was heat and slick warmth on his cock, suction pulling sweet sensations from the fastness of Alex's body and making his inner thighs tingle as he felt a climax rushing down on him. Hands stroked him, fondled him, knew exactly where to touch him as they roamed his torso. It didn't take more than a minute or two before he came, bursting into the other Alex's mouth with a whimper as he tried to keep silent through his orgasm, for fear of being discovered.

"Alex... Alex," he said softly. "You feel so good... know where to touch me. Will you save me, Alex? I'll be yours if you want. I heard some of the others talking. Said sometimes a boy takes another boy and saves him in return for this. Sergei hurts me. Will you love me? I'd be a good boy for you. Be so good. You could make me yours."

"Hush, Alex," the other commanded. "I'll help you, if you can wait. I can't get you down from here without a knife. I have to go and find one. Then I can make love to you. Make you feel good. I'll take care of you, Alex."

The unseen presence was close, stroking Alex's belly, his chest, his hair, soothing with his touch.

Alex sniffed... something wasn't right... something... "You promise? How... how can you get out of here? How?" Alex hung his head. Why was he questioning? "Please, before you go, give me a kiss? Just a little one, so I can feel you when you're gone?"

Lips touched against his, soft as a whisper, brushing tenderly over his mouth before more firmly placing themselves against his. Suddenly, there were arms around him and a hot mouth on his, a tongue probing into his mouth.

Instantly, Alex tensed. The taste, the feel... he knew them. But that man wouldn't be here... couldn't be... "Daddy?" he asked softly. "What are you doing here? Why are you letting them hurt me?"

"Come now, Alex. You know that they only hurt you because they love you. If you were a good boy, you wouldn't be in pain. Why do you persist in being so bad? You break your daddy's heart." The voice battered his senses, and he felt the tears starting to flow.

"But... but I do all they ask. All you ask. I get the information and I..." He sniffled. "You said I pleased you. That I was better than the rest. Why did you send me away if you loved me, daddy? They hurt me. Don't feed me and my tummy growls."

"Alex!" The voice came like a pistol shot. "You left your daddy. You ran away. What do you think should happen to a bad boy like that? How do you think that your daddy felt when his beautiful boy betrayed him?" Fingers, unseen in the black and slippery darkness, caressed his face.

"I... never left you, daddy. Love you... love..." His daddy had never taken that tone with him before. He started to cry louder. "You sent me away... you... hold me daddy, please hold me... I'm so cold..."

Arms surrounded him. Lips pressed to his cheek, and silk rubbed against his nakedness. Alex felt the bonds that held him to the wall release, and he was falling, feet still shackled, into the arms of his daddy, there to be held and soothed as the agony of returning circulation scorched his wrist.

"Ahh... thank you... oh, daddy... you'll get me out of here, take me home and love me?" He snuggled against his daddy, holding tight and kissing his neck through his sobs. "Please... can't take any more. See what they've done to me? They cut me..."

He felt himself cherished. Hands chafed his frozen flesh, and lips traced the lines of his cheek. He nestled in, feeling safe, holding on to his daddy with the one arm that remained to him.

"Alex, my baby, it's so good to have you back. I missed my bad boy." A mouth found his, hot and demanding, the taste of nicotine a reminder that he was here and safe at last. His head swam, and his body tingled. It felt perfect to be here: wonderful to be loved once again. Alex opened his mouth, allowing daddy to re-state his love for him as he thrust his tongue inside.

"Daddy..." Alex clung to the kiss, wrapping his tongue around the other's, pulling him close, closing his eyes. He was home now. Safe. Daddy wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. He snuggled closer, putting his daddy's hand on his stiff cock. "It's for you... the way you like it, like you told me." He slithered down in his shackles, licking at his daddy's shirt, fumbling with his hand for his daddy's fly. He knew what he was expected to do now for his daddy's love. He remembered, and he could do it. "Going to make you happy, daddy."

"You're my good boy, Alex. Daddy loves you, and you will always be safe as long as you please him." Alex practically drooled at the chance to make his daddy happy. He extracted the rapidly stiffening penis from the silk of his pants, and lapped at it, tasting safety, tasting memories of strong arms and firm discipline, tasting the faint, floury odor of talc as he took the slender rod into his mouth to worship it, pushing forward until his face was buried in the tangle of pubic hair that surrounded it.

Alex lapped at his daddy's cock. To him, it was the source of all love and comfort in the world. Kept him warm and fed him... fed him tangy fluid that now formed a bead at the tip. Alex licked it greedily, probing the eye with his tongue for more. He opened his mouth wide and took his daddy deep, feeling the cock twitch as he did. His hand moved on his daddy's balls, fondling them. Daddy had taught him well, and he would please him.

Sighing in pleasure, he rested his head in daddy's lap, sucking hard for the sweet fluid of life only his daddy could provide. He made mewling sounds as he felt his daddy's balls tighten and cock begin to twitch. He slid his hand back, past his daddy's balls, looking for the sweet spot daddy loved.

When the first, juddering pulses told him that daddy was there, was about to erupt hot and sweet into his waiting, desperately sucking mouth, he moaned, and paused, waiting. He waited for daddy to tell him it was alright, and that he could have the reward he'd learned to crave: to tell him that he could feed.

"Good boy, you remembered." A hand caressed Alex's hair, before grabbing a handful and pulling gently. "Go ahead. Taste your reward."

Greedily, Alex moaned, and renewed his urgent sucking. Quickly, his mouth was filled with the thick liquid he'd craved. Alex swallowed, and swallowed, and sucked until there was no more.

He looked up at his daddy, gratefully. "Thank you," he said softly. Tired now, all he wanted was to sleep. He ached all over, and he just wanted to sleep, safe in his daddy's arms. He nuzzled his daddy's thigh, nestling in. "I'm tired, daddy. Sore and tired. Why am I so sore?" he was confused, sated, happy, delirious with joy that his daddy had taken him back... but he was also aware that he ached from his ass to his throat and even his eyes. "What happened to me?"

"I rescued you, baby. Don't worry. Your daddy has you safe now, and he will make you well. Sleep now, baby, and let daddy make it all better."

A faint sting at the back of his neck went almost unnoticed, as Alex dropped off to sleep, feeling safe and warm in the arms of his daddy.

Alex began to dream, and a face floated in his dreams, a face so like his own. But it was just out of reach.

"Have you forgotten me, Alex?" queried the voice. "You're not where you think you are... you need to wake up. Hey Alex," the voice persisted. "If you're back in the Gulag, why isn't the floor bare earth? And where did that bread come from? Where did...?" Alex lost consciousness then, blissfully trapped under a fog.

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

Dustin was feeling harassed.

He'd showered again and changed into clothes that he kept at the office for emergencies. Following that, he'd begun to plough through a huge stack of correspondence that had been awaiting his attention for the past couple of days. No sooner had he walked in through the door than he had been assailed by complaints of all description, in every medium you could possibly name. For a while, it felt as though he hadn't time to draw breath. Marita had insisted that he go to the office. She'd reasoned that there were enough people around him, and enough security on the lot, for him to be safe. She'd seen how wired he was, and decided that he needed to be occupied. Occupied was a pale word for the chaos that had greeted him.

When at last he had a few minutes to breathe, he called Suzanne and asked her, pathos large in his voice, if she could order him a sandwich.

Marita glanced at him meaningfully. "Where do you get your sandwiches, Dustin?" She hoped he'd remember what she told him about drinks. The same went for food.

Dustin tossed a plaintive look at Suzanne. "I've had a rough few days. Do you mind handling what you can yourself for a bit?" Marita had been remonstrating with him. She wanted Dustin to be under as little stress as possible. She was also growing increasingly uneasy about Alex - she knew how badly the Smoker wanted him back in the fold. She sighed as Suzanne handed Dustin what appeared to be a videotape.

"This just came via Airborne Express, Dustin. Looks important - a screen test for "See No Evil", maybe?"

Grunting acknowledgement, Dustin grabbed it and tossed it onto the desk.

"Thanks honey. Now, if you love me, and don't want to see me fade away into nothingness, please get me some fries or something? If you tell them it's for you, that will be fine." He looked at Marita, his eyebrow raised inquisitively. Her golden head had bowed in acquiescence.

Turning back to the video, he picked it up again and went over to his TV.

"This is likely to be boring. Sorry, I have to do all of this shit. It's urgent because the show is already in pre-production." Inserting the tape, he grabbed the remote and flicked on the monitor.

Nothing but static filled the screen for the first few seconds, and Dustin turned away to retrieve a file that had fallen from his desk. His first inkling that there was something amiss came from Marita.

She jumped as a well-known room came into view. There was a familiar man standing there, smoking. This most certainly wasn't a screen test.

The Smoker looked at the camera, blinked, and began. "Hello, Dustin. I understand you are worried about your lover, Alex. Let me reassure you; we are taking good care of him. We thought you might like some proof --" Marita was across the room in a flash, frantically pushing the 'eject;' button. She didn't know how much Dustin might have caught, but feared it was too much to ask that he'd seen or heard nothing.

As Dustin approached, eyes focused with a single intent, Marita stepped between him and the VCR. "Don't watch it, Dustin. You'll be of no help to Alex if you..."

Wrenching the tape away from her with strength born of fear, Dustin brushed past Marita. "I have to know what they're doing to him." Replacing the tape, Dustin crouched beside the TV screen, drinking in the scene with frightening intensity.

Alex was on his stomach, stretched out spread-eagled and in chains. Men came and went, each fucking him, as he lay unable to move. When the Smoker began to beat him, Dustin cringed, wincing each time the rod landed on his bare back. His anger rose as the camera played lovingly over Alex's bleeding flesh.

When the woman came to anoint his back, Dustin relaxed a little, until Alex began to scream uncontrollably. Glancing at Marita, he asked, "How can get him out?"

"Mackey," Marita said simply. "For a start." The tape continued, and Marita heard Alex pleading not to go back to Cairo, to El Habibi in a voice that bore little resemblance to his normal one. Damn! They've got him talking like a little boy! What did they do... to break him so fast? How...?

Marita's jaw set. "We have to get to him before he agrees to go to Cairo. El Habibi is a butcher... nearly killed Alex once. He..."

Looking at Alex, who was pleading with the man who made a mockery of the word "Daddy," she sucked in a breath. Turning to Dustin, she stated, "We need to get Mackey on his way, right now. And you... me..." Marita let her thought trail off as she noticed that Dustin was looking past her. She had no way of knowing if he'd heard a word she'd said. He was staring at the monitor.

His finger pressed the rewind almost without his say-so. Dustin numbly watched the obscenity spooling backwards, and allowed it to begin all over again.

Again and again he watched the sight of his love, raped and beaten by people he had never met as orchestrated by an evil man whom he feared more and more with each passing minute.

He sat, motionless, his lover's pain seeping beneath his skin, and unable to keep it from contaminating his heart.

"Dustin, don't torture yourself. It'll help neither you nor Alex. Come on. We should get to the hospital." Gently, she prized his hand from the remote control, ejected the tape, and turned his slack face to hers. "It's time, Dustin. We need to go." She handed him his jacket and poked her head out the door, informing Suzanne that they would be leaving. Taking the still dazed Dustin's arm, she led him out the door.

He didn't protest, merely followed her as she led him past Suzanne and out to where his car was parked in the shade of the fence. He didn't argue when she settled him into the passenger's seat, and merely sat, stunned, when she started the engine and put the car into gear. All he could see was Alex. Alex, naked and bound, brutalized beyond bearing. He put his head into his hands.

"Tapes can be faked, you know," Marita tried. "Sounds dubbed. The Smoker has tapes of Alex from..." She bit her lip, unable to believe what she'd almost said.

She drove towards the hospital, trying to focus, but finding it impossible. What could she say? She could think of nothing other than, "Well get him out. I promise you." And she meant to keep it. Parking at the hospital, she led Dustin inside, and obtained Mackey's room number from patient information.

Dustin entered Mackey's room, and felt the fizzing rush of fear as he took in the battered countenance of his boss. Mackey looked awful. Purple bruises stained his face, and the burn marks were crusted yellow. His worst eye was bandaged, and he lay with the other eye closed; his face set in pain.

Standing beside the injured man's bed, Dustin froze.

Marita's eyes flicked from Dustin to Mackey and she realized that her course was clear. Gently, she shook Mackey's shoulder. He slowly opened his good eye and tried to focus. Seeing was a little easier this time, and he made out the concerned faces of Marita and Dustin.

"I --" Mackey began, looking from one to the other. Finally fixing on Dustin, he blinked. "I'm supposed to go to DC. Oh, my god! I've got to go. Get me out of here!" Sitting bolt upright too quickly, he nearly passed out again. Marita moved to steady him. "Oh, God..." Mackey leaned into her, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the pounding in his head to subside.

"Karl?" Dustin spoke through clenched teeth, as though afraid of the response he might get. "Alex is in terrible trouble. I've seen"

Dustin subsided, standing, waiting to hear what Marita might say. To him, it looked as though Karl was not going to make it out of bed, let alone to Washington DC. He pounded his fist into his thigh as he surveyed the sorry state of the man on whom his hopes were resting.

"Fuck! He won't be able to go anywhere," he mumbled at Marita.

Marita looked at Mackey, sitting beside him. "Mackey, Karl... Alex is depending on you. Please? Can you do this?"

Mackey jerked his head up, and there was fire in his eyes. "I'll go. If it kills me, I'll go." His was feeling a little better now, and he knew he had to get to Alex. Mackey stood, shakily, and paused for a few seconds to let the room stop spinning. "So, who's driving me to the airport?"

Marita grinned. "Thank God, Karl... thank you." Marita said, meeting Dustin's eyes to encourage him.

Karl wobbled a little, but didn't fall. "I'm all right," he said quickly.

Dustin had hastened over to Mackey, and he now put his arms around the injured man.

"Karl, you don't have to do this, but he needs you. I need you" He paused for a moment to hold Karl tightly, and buried his face in his neck, feeling like a heel for making him get up from his bed when he was in such a terrible condition.

"I'll make it up to you somehow, Karl, I promise."

Karl put his arm around Dustin, and held him. "This is for Alex," he said. "And... for you, I guess, but... more for Alex." He looked at Marita, daring her to say otherwise.

She said nothing.

Karl shrugged out of Dustin's embrace and stumbled over to the small locker in which his belongings were stored. He dressed slowly. Marita moved to help him but he shrugged her off. "I need to do this," he said. "For Alex."

Marita frowned at Dustin, wondering if Karl was in any shape for the task they'd set for him.

Waiting was a trial for Dustin, and he paced to and fro as Karl got dressed, muttering and mumbling like one demented. He just wanted to be gone from the hospital; to have a final knowledge that Karl was on the plane and heading to arrange for his lover's salvation.

As Karl fastened his shirt buttons, Dustin placed Karl's highly polished, slip-on shoes ready in position. While Mackey inserted his legs into the finely tailored pants, Dustin held out the suit jacket for Karl to shrug inside.

When Mackey was fully clothed, Dustin turned without waiting and slipped out the door, returning a few moments later with a wheelchair. "I saw it on my way in," he said in explanation. "It seemed like a really good idea."

Marita smiled. "Good thought, Dustin." She was thrilled with his quick thinking, even though it may not have seemed like much to Dustin himself.

Mackey got into the wheelchair. "At least I look the part." He couldn't wait to get on that plane to DC.

To Dustin, Marita instructed, "Let's go." To Mackey, she asked, "You know how to play this, right?"

"For Christ's sake!" Mackey hissed. "Of course I know what to do, Marita. I was hit on the head; I'm not stupid."

Marita looked at Dustin and arched a brow.

Taking the handles of the wheelchair, Dustin pushed the wounded man down the corridor and toward the parking lot, hoping that they would not be discovered. His hands were trembling with the urgency of his mission.

"Karl?" Dustin began. "I don't want to sound insulting, and I know that you're not stupid. I work for you, remember? It's just that I needno; I have to know what you're going to do. Please tell me. It's going to be hell not knowing what's going on." He had been aiming for a calm, unhurried voice, but his agitation sounded plainly as he talked. Karl didn't respond at once. Dustin wondered if Mackey had decided to let him suffer for a while.

"I... know you love him," Karl began. "You want him safe. So do I. This man who has him... he's... diabolical is the only word I have. I have to make him think I want to hurt Alex, and then he'll let me see him. After that... I can maybe tell him I want to keep Alex in a shack offsite to torture him. I won't hurt him at all, of course," he hastened to reassure Dustin, "but the Smoker... wait, you said you saw. What did you see?"

Marita blanched, but prompted Dustin. "Maybe... if you tell him... it might help," Marita said. "Help him understand Alex's mental state."

Dustin swallowed, and then shook his head but then took a deep breath. Gotta face this, he thought.

"They raped him. And beat him. He was crying like a child. It hurt so much to watch. You've got to help him, Karl."

Mackey snorted, a muffled sound from within his cocoon of bandages. As they reached the car, Dustin held the chair steady while Karl climbed in, and stared at the two-seater Porsche in dismay.

"You'd better take him," he said to Marita. "I'll grab a cab back to the office.

Marita nodded. "You'll be okay?" As Dustin nodded his confirmation, she moved to enter the car. " Just wait for me there... I'll be back soon."

"He's back in the Gulag, you know," Mackey said.

Marita nodded. They'd seen this before. "You'll get him out, Karl. You'll help him."

Karl addressed Dustin. "Of course I will. I love him."

"Are you sure you're okay to go back?" Marita asked again. "Why don't I go back, and you take him?"

"I think it's better if you go. You know him, and you know the set up. I'm too keyed up to think straight at the moment anyway." He hoped that they both realized exactly how much that statement had cost him to utter. "I'll see you back at the office."

Without further ado, Dustin turned and walked away.

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

The flight that landed at Dulles Airport at 6am the following morning was, for a change, on time. Karl, who had traveled business class, was beginning to feel better physically, though the proximity to his old nemesis was not doing his stomach any favors.

Knowing that his appearance would complicate the hiring of a rental car, he phoned an associate from inside the airport, and requested a car and driver. Soon, Karl was on his way out past Falls Church, and his date with horror.

As the car pulled into the driveway of the big, old house, he tipped his chauffeur and told him to leave. Once he was inside, it wasn't a sure thing whether Karl would ever again see the outside world. Determinedly, he strode up to the front door and rang the bell.

A blonde woman he recalled from long ago, Greta was her name, answered the door.

As she took in the appearance of the man on the doorstep, Greta reflected that he looked more like someone who should be running from the house than coming toward it. Taking a closer look, she recognized him. "Karl," she said, smiling cruelly. "Come on in. The boss will be pleased to see you." Ushering him inside, she shut the door and went to summon the Smoker.

Spender walked through the house, to the foyer, smiling grimly.

So, Mackey had come after his love. He was more curious as to how Dustin Yarma was doing, having no doubt seen the tape by now. But he would be happy to talk to Mackey for the moment. Dismissing the blonde, he smiled his nicotine smile at Mackey.

"Karl. How nice of you to pay us a visit." He stepped to one side with a theatrical flourish. "You're not looking too well. Did you want me to attend to that?"

"Hello, sir. You called for me, and here I am. I have a mild concussion, so I'd be grateful for a painkiller. I left the hospital in a bit of a hurry in order to come here."

He quailed inwardly as he spoke, but his demeanor was calm and collected. They could have been a pair of studio executives, discussing a movie project.

Spender smiled. "Of course, of course., I have pain killers, all kinds. Morphine, Demerol... codeine." He took Mackey's arm and began leading him back through the house. "What hurts most, poppet, hmm?" He smiled, imagining what might hurt most if he let Mackey see Alex. He liked that idea... liked it a lot. But first, to tend to Mackey's pain.

Outwardly smiling, and inwardly screaming in terror, Karl accompanied the spider into his lair. As they entered the infirmary, Karl felt his throat close up. He remembered prior trips to this place. The antiseptic smell couldn't erase the scent of blood that hung over the room.

The CSM rang a bell, and a doctor - Karl assumed that he was a doctor based upon the white coat he was wearing - appeared.

"This is Karl. He's a little under the weather. Check him over and give him what he needs, would you?" The doctor nodded, and began to examine Karl with brisk competence.

"Sir?" the doctor began dispassionately. "Is this one for the dungeon, or is he for the circuit?"

Spender tilted his head, looking at Mackey critically. "Just do the exam, please," he said curtly, walking over to take Mackey's hand in a fatherly gesture. "You're worried about Alex," he said softly. "I can tell you he's been asking for you. Asking for his Karl. He wants you to feed him. Will you do that? Feed my boy?"

It can't be this easy, can it? Mackey drew his breath in sharply. Would the old bastard just hand Alex over to him without him even asking? It seemed too good to be true, so Karl decided to hedge.

"I'd rather beat him soundly, sir, but of course I'll do what you ask of me." Karl tried to recall just what he'd said the day that the Smoker had come to him regarding Alex's whereabouts. "He betrayed me. I hate him."

"Well, well. That's certainly a change of heart." Spender wiped Mackey's face with a moist towel. "You'd hurt your Alex? That's interesting... interesting indeed. You loved him well enough the last time we spoke." This is interesting, the Smoker thought. Potentially another way to break Alex down... yes. "Tell me more about his betrayal, and your hatred for him." Maybe this would be even better than he thought.

"The bastard left me. He told me that I was no longer his, and left me for another man. He just walked away as if I were a piece of shit he'd scraped off his shoe, after I allowed myself to be burned for him. He was there when the men came. He was there with me, telling me to go to hell. When they took him, I was glad. I wanted to run to him and taste the blood that he was losing, but the men hit me with something, and when I awoke, he was gone. Let me see him now. Just let me give him what he deserves, please, sir." Mackey had permitted the removal of the dressing that covered his eye, and now the doctor was painting it with some ointment that stung dreadfully. "I thought I knew what pain was, but I didn't, until now."

"My, my," said Spender, shaking his head. "Such anger! But you left something out, Karl. You left out that Alex was cleaning your face when we grabbed him. I was told that he went to the 7-Eleven store just for you. Are you sure you don't love him still, even after he ran off with your employee?"

He rubbed Karl's face, lightly. "That must have hurt you terribly. Yes, yes... I believe I can let you see Alex. Just remember, no permanent marks. Anything else is fine. Actually, I saw that dildo he used on you... would you like one to use on him?" He studied Mackey's face, for any sign of revulsion. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing, but this opportunity to play with Alex's head was too great to pass up.

"He was cleaning my face, yes." Mackey was thinking furiously. This was like a chess game, and he had to convince this evil old man that he was sincere in his hatred. "He was cleaning my face after giving me this." He indicated the bruise he had gotten from someone's boot. "He kicked me in the head and when I lost consciousness, I guess he was worried."

Spender nodded. "Yes, he's a very ... guilty boy, our Alex." He smiled to himself, thinking you don't know the half of it. "He would have felt badly. " Speaking more to himself than Mackey now, the Smoker continued, "He's so conflicted. Used to be so good, when he knew his role. He's splitting, disintegrating... may have to give him a clean slate workup if this doesn't improve."

He looked at Mackey. "I need to leave for a few minutes. But hopefully when I come back you'll feel well enough to see Alex."

Taking the seat that the doctor indicated, Mackey permitted the doctor to apply a soothing salve to his face, and swallowed the painkillers he was offered. It sounded as though they had taken Alex down to nothing in only a couple of days. He wanted to ask the Smoker how that was done, but he didn't think that the old man would tell him.

The doctor was deft, and very shortly his face was feeling far better than it had. The pills made him feel a little drowsy, but the pain was becoming a distant memory.

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

Alex was chained again, but not to the wall. This time, he was tethered, blindfolded, to an O-ring in the middle of a dank room they called the Pit, scrabbling away every time the door opened. Usually when that happened, a man would come in and he'd have to perform. When the door next opened, things were different. He was given food, and water, and a hand caressed his face.

He whimpered at the unexpected tenderness, and sat, head up, listening intently, trying to determine when the blows would begin to fall.

The water that he drank tasted metallic, and he was vaguely aware that he was drinking more drugs. But he was so thirsty now that he had to drink, even if the drugs meant his death.

"Hello, Alex, my sweet boy. How are you feeling?" He knew the voice, and his heart thumped painfully against his chest as he awaited some new cruelty. None came. Instead, the old man hugged Alex to him, murmuring endearments as he removed the blindfold that covered Alex's face.

Alex stiffened, waiting for a blow, a kick, a slap. Again, none came. His breathing evened out, and Alex finally dared to open his eyes -- closing them again against the harsh light.

"Why...?" was all he could say, trying to scrabble away, but feeling weak and numb.

"Alex, come now. Nobody's going to hurt you. We love you." The lighter flared and acrid smoke curled around Alex's face, making him gag. "It's all right, in fact a friend of yours has come to visit. We must make you pretty for him." The old man continued to fondle him as he whimpered, gesturing to a pair of lackeys who were waiting by the door.

"See that he gets a shower. I want him to look lovely for our guest."

Alex was suddenly more afraid than he had been. A friend? He didn't have any friends. His friends were all dead. Sergei had killed them all one winter's night... except for... except for... "Karl?" he asked, looking at Spender. "He's come to see me?"

"Very good, dear boy. You've inspired such love in poor Karl's heart that he's gotten up out of his hospital bed to rush to your side. How lucky you are to have someone who loves you that much, Alex. You should treat him well, and never let him go." There was amusement in the Smoker's voice as the two minions carried Alex away, since his legs were so cramped that he couldn't walk.

Alex moaned. "Karl... hospital? Did Sergei cut him, too, then?" He struggled to hurry to his best friend's side, forgetting he was shackled. One of the guards slapped him, hard, and laughed as Alex sank to his knees.

The sting came as a surprise, a lash he knew not what he had done to earn. Had daddy told him to hurry? He gasped as one of the orderlies picked him up, pinching his already abused cock and caressing his sore ass. "Alex... stay with us. We'll get you there." The orderly looked appreciatively at Alex's cringing form. "Such a pretty boy." Alex shivered and mewled, but followed as he was tugged along, shackled feet stumbling.

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

Karl was dozing in a comfortable chair when Greta came to him.

"You must come at once," she announced. The Master is waiting for you." The curt voice shocked him into awareness. Alex. He would soon be with Alex.

Stumbling to his feet, he followed the woman to the room where the Smoker was waiting.

"Well, Karl, I've made sure that he's clean and tidy for you to do as you see fit." The Smoker opened a door behind him, and gestured for Mackey to enter.

Alex was lying on a soft, white bed, his wrist and ankles chained to posts, his chest strapped down.

When the door creaked open, Alex stiffened. He had already forgotten it was supposed to be a friend coming to call, and he tried to scoot away, but of course he couldn't. Karl...he thought. Karl was here. At the tone of daddy's voice, he shivered. Why did he sound that way? Afraid, Alex whimpered, turning his face away from the light.

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

Onto 5: Into the Fire

Feedback to Emily

Feedback to Dr. Ruthless

| Alex Annex | Characters | Stories/Alpha | Stories/Author | Home |