See disclaimers and notes in Part One.

---------------------------

Seconds
By Tiramisu

Part Five:

The television was on, but Alex paid no attention to it. His eyes were on Fox, sleeping beside him on the small sofa, head on Alex's shoulder. They'd started off earlier in the evening lazing side-by-side, but when Fox grew drowsy, he'd pushed Alex back into the sofa and burrowed contentedly into him. And for the past hour, Alex had been half-sitting, half-lying, his prosthetic arm loosely around his lover and his good hand combing softly through Fox's golden-brown hair.

If the world ended right now, he thought with affection, at least I'd die happy.

They'd been together now one week. Much of it they'd spent in exactly this position, just lying together quietly. When they spoke, it was of Fox's recuperation, the aliens, the government. The future of the planet, the rest of their lives.

They rarely spoke of the past.

One shadow they faced, and one shadow they ran from.

Fox stirred, murmurred his name, buried his face in Alex's neck. Alex nuzzled the soft crisp hair, kissed the other man's temple.

Tomorrow he'd have to get back to DC. The clone was recovering too quickly; it would be released from the hospital in just a few more days. McCarniss must have made plans for it by now, and Alex intended to find out what they were. But tonight….

The familiar roar of the pick-up preceded the bright white lights that flooded the living room, the twin beams growing in size and intensity until they merged. They were accompanied by a shriek of tires entirely unlike Smith's usual driving. As Alex glanced toward the door, he felt Fox stir again and waken.

By the time the pick-up's engine settled into dark silence, both men were on their feet.

Smith entered the house, crossing the hall quickly and pausing under the archway into the living room. He began without preamble. "Are you watching the news?"

Alex shook his head even as Fox scrambled for the remote control. "What's wrong?"

"There was a shooting a few minutes ago," Smith explained, as Fox flipped rapidly through the channels. "In front of the White House."

"Who was it?" Fox asked.

"A man named Salt. Howard Salt." He turned to Alex. "He was demanding to see the President. The first report said that he was claiming aliens were taking over the United States."

Alex scowled. "Once upon a time, I'd've written him off as a nut," he mumbled. To Smith he asked, "Did he say anything more specific?"

"There's not a lot of information available…" Smith paused as Fox found a news channel. Alex crossed to the television and crouched in front of it, studying the footage as it aired. Behind him, Fox sat again on the couch and leaned forward, also watching.

Smith stood in silence as the events were replayed across the screen. Cameras panned the area of White House lawn from several angles, but Alex saw nothing unusual. It was when the video clip of one guard was aired that Smith spoke.

"There," he said. "Watch that guard."

Alex did, but still saw nothing out of the ordinary. He looked over his shoulder at Fox, but the other man only shrugged in equal bewilderment.

They glanced in unison at Smith.

"Wait," the older man directed. "You'll see it when the camera pulls out farther."

Alex did see it, then. The silver disc, only visible in the guard's hand for a moment. In the rest of the footage, the guard's hands were empty.

Alex turned to Fox. "A CD," he said, and Fox nodded in agreement. "The footage must be spliced or something."

"Could you see what was written on it?" Fox asked.

Alex shook his head and glanced once more at Smith. "You did, didn't you, Jem?"

"Yes," Smith told them. "In the first bulletin. The CD was labelled 'Fight the future'."

Fight-the-future. Oh, fuck. But who was this guy Salt, and what was his connection to the Project?

Fox was watching him with curiosity. Alex rose and returned to his place beside his lover. It looked like it was time to fill the agent in on a few things.

"Fight the future?" Fox prompted, his eyes shifting back and forth between Alex and the older man. "I take it that means something to you?"

Alex nodded. "It's the name of a project," he explained. "Led by the US military, but without official sanction. There are private enterprises involved, too. They're trying to breed a sort of….I don't know, a….," he finished with a shrug, "…super-human."

"A human being with greatly enhanced abilities," Smith clarified. "Particularly regarding the ability to recover from injury and illness."

"Like you've done in healing me?" Fox queried.

Smith shook his head. "You're healed because I healed you. Project Fight-the-Future is an attempt to breed a generation of human beings who can self-heal as needed. Right from birth. It involves manipulated DNA. It's still in the experimental stage, but there are presently six women carrying fetuses which are essentially lab subjects for the project."

The agent threw a quick glance at Alex, then turned back to Smith. "What happens when the kids are born?" Fox wanted to know.

"They will likely be put through a number of tests, in order to gauge the success of the experiment," Smith told him. "Theoretically, the infants should be able to spontaneously recover from nearly anything. Starvation. Immolation. Exposure to heat and cold, viruses and bacteria. Broken bones. Lacerations…"

"I get the idea." Fox stopped him, a vaguely nauseous expression on his face.

"As cruel as it may sound, the project leaders view it as a necessary evil," Smith continued. "The future of the human race may well depend on it. You're fighting a species that is much more difficult to kill than you are."

"Look at the way the shapeshifters recover instantly from almost anything," Alex pointed out, "unless the healing center in the brain stem is damaged. That's why the only definite way to kill them is with a puncture wound to the stem. If humans were as hard to kill, our chances of winning this war would improve."

The agent's hazel eyes examined Alex with distaste. "You aren't trying to defend it, are you?"

"I'm only telling it like it is." When his lover's appalled look remained, Alex sighed. "Fox, look. We have to be willing to sacrifice some, or we're going to lose it all. We can't fight this war by the rules of the Geneva Convention. The other side isn't human. We'd never win." He turned his gaze toward the floor, adding, "I've seen worse things done."

"Worse than torturing children just to see how they heal?"

"Yes," Alex admitted. He couldn't bring himself to raise his gaze, afraid to meet the accusation in his lover's eyes.

The room was silent, but for the drone of the television reporters.

Smith took a seat near the window and gazed out into the darkness. Alex picked up the remote control, fingered it absently.

"Okay," Fox finally sighed. "Just for the sake of argument, let's assume that it's the lesser of however many evils. But if the military is the chief sponsor of this project, why would this fellow Salt have pulled such a dangerous stunt? Logically, the President would have access to any of the military's files."

Alex shrugged again. "Maybe he learned something new. Or maybe he thinks the military isn't keeping an accurate record on the project." He returned the remote to the coffee table. "Or maybe he's just a nut."

"He's not just a nut," Fox argued. "He had something on that CD. He knew that project's name. He must have felt there was something worth risking his life for in that information."

"I suspect you're right, Agent Mulder. Alex, were you still planning to go to Washington DC tomorrow?"

Nodding, Alex said, "Yeah. And I'm already planning to make a side trip to Wiekamp to talk to my contact. But I doubt he'll tell me anything about it. Whatever that guy knew, it probably didn't reflect well on the project."

"I agree," Smith said. "I was thinking of your other contact…."

"Rohrer?" Alex shook off the chill that washed over him as he spoke the name. He'd already told Fox about the replicant.

"Why not?" Smith replied mildly. "He's not aware that you know what he is. He may be willing to work with you. It's a certainty that he'll be working with others who want to find out the contents of that disc. If they consider you an ally, they may share that information with you, should they learn it first. If you discover it before they do, you naturally will not pass it along to them."

Alex nodded soberly. Smith was right, he knew. Maintaining that informant relationship with Rohrer was the logical thing to do. And Alex Krycek believed in doing whatever needed to be done. But it was going to take a hell of an acting job this time. The very idea of the replicants unnerved him. He'd never before come across an enemy that he couldn't kill. Even the black oil could be eliminated, though the vaccine was still desperately hard to come by.

He looked at his lover. If Smith weren't there, Alex would've sunk into Fox's arms, if only to calm himself and draw on Fox's own courage. But they weren't alone. And the issue was still at hand. He needed to remain cool. Jaw set, he turned again to the healer.

"Alright," he told Smith. "I'll meet up with Rohrer tomorrow."

"The hell you will," Fox countered. He stared at Alex in disbelief. "You don't have to do that. There's got to be some other way to find out what's up." He shifted his gaze to Smith and added, "You know what you're asking him to do? If the replicants catch on to him, they'll kill him."

"Possibly," Smith answered solemnly. Alex read the remorse in the blue eyes, but he and Smith both understood the truth. As much as he loved Fox, he couldn't protect him from the ruthlessness of it.

"It's like I said before, Fox," he began, his voice low. "We have to be willing to sacrifice." He swallowed uneasily under the agent's angry glare. "I know you think I can be a cold bastard, but you have to know - I wouldn't ask anyone else to go through something I won't face myself."

"Why is this necessary, though?" Fox asked earnestly. "We've just agreed that the military's project may be cruel, but it's got to be. Why are you willing to put yourself through so much, if we're not going to do anything with what you'd learn from it?"

"If it's about the project, it's worth knowing," Alex explained. He glanced briefly at Smith, but the older man remained wordless. "You'll agree, once you know the rest." He watched as the agent's angry eyes darkened with suspicion.

"What's the rest?" he asked.

Alex said, "We told you there were six unborn children out there that the project is focusing on."

Fox nodded.

"So there are six women who are also being used as subjects."

Fox nodded again, as Alex drew in a deep breath.

"One of them is Scully."

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

Mulder rolled over, reaching out in his sleep but finding the space beside him empty. I'm doing it again, he thought. He rubbed his eyes wearily, blinking at the sunlight filtering into the room, and drew himself into a sitting position.

Alex.

He yawned and focused on the figure at the window.

"Hey," he mumbled. "I'm not supposed to be alone in here anymore."

Alex glanced at him in confusion, then walked over and sat on the bed beside him. " 'Morning, hon," he said softly, leaning in for a kiss. "What's that you were saying?"

"Nothing," Mulder told him, sheepishly. He ran one finger along the crease in the leather jacket Alex was wearing. "Leaving already?" he asked.

Alex nodded. "Long drive ahead. I've got to get an early start. I waited until you woke, though," he pointed out.

Mulder smiled. "I see that. Thanks." He pressed his lips against the side of Alex's neck in another kiss, while he let one hand wander inside his lover's jacket, and under his shirt.

"Keep doing that, and I'm not going to want to leave," Alex warned him.

"Good. I don't want you to leave." Mulder drew back and gazed into the green eyes. "And you don't want to go," he stated. "We can figure out some other way to get the information on that disc, you know. You don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do," Alex told him. "Smith is right. We can't afford to toss away any of our options. That replicant has information that we don't, and it's willing to trade with me. We can use that to our advantage. I have to do this."

But you don't want to, Mulder thought. That thing scares you to death. You're only doing this for me. For Scully. Because you think she matters to me more than you do. And I can't make you see the truth.

"Let me come with you, then," he suggested.

Alex refused. "We can't risk you being seen walking around DC while you're supposed to be in the hospital. It'd be too hard to explain."

"So? I'll wear a disguise."

Alex only shook his head. "No. But don't worry," he reassured him. "I'm only going to talk to Rohrer, and to stop in on your doppelganger and my contact. I'll probably be home before the night's out."

He detached himself from Mulder with obvious reluctance. As he rose to leave, he added, "Oh, I'll probably stop in at your apartment, too. You want me to save anything for you before the clone gets to keep it all?"

"My apartment?" Mulder repeated, curious. "It's still there?"

"Sure," Alex said, pausing in the doorway. "I figured you'd be needing it again, so I kept it up for you. Since the funeral, I mean. Scully had been taking care of it before that. But after they buried you - I mean the clone -," he grinned, "I took over."

"Thanks," Mulder said, returning the grin. "I appreciate that." Especially for giving some of the credit to Scully, he thought. But he didn't say it aloud.

Alex waved the thanks aside. "No problem. Your aunt wanted all of your stuff, but I took care of her. You know, it's a good thing you never made a will, or I'd never have been able to keep everything together for you. Not that it matters now, I guess," he added as an afterthought. "The clone'll just get it all now."

"How did you take care of my aunt?"

As soon as the question was out, Mulder wished he could have taken it back. It sounded much more harsh than he'd intended, and much more emotional. He watched in dismay as the grin faded from Alex's face.

"I didn't kill her, Fox," the younger man sighed, "if that's what you're wondering."

His tone was mild enough, but Mulder saw the brief flash of pain in the green eyes.

"Sorry," Mulder mumbled awkwardly. God, they had enough things to deal with already. They couldn't let every wrong word become an accusation. "I didn't mean it like that…"

We're going to have to deal with it sometime, Mulder thought ruefully. It won't go away. God, I just wish I could believe you, Alex.

But he couldn't. And in Alex's perfect green eyes, he saw that the other man knew it.

"Sorry," he said again.

Alex scowled, but without rancor. "I talked to her after the funeral," he explained patiently. "We worked things out. I told her to keep her mouth shut, and if anyone asked, to tell them that she was keeping up your lease for a while as a place to stay when she visits DC."

"She never visits DC," Mulder told him. "She's afraid of the place."

"Who isn't?" Alex shrugged. "Doesn't matter, anyway. Now that you're alive again, Scully and that Doggett character have had their grimy little fingerprints all over the place. Which means they've spoken to your aunt since they dug up the clone." Zipping his jacket, he asked once more, "So do you want me to save anything, or no?"

Mulder thought a moment, then nodded. "Bottom shelf of the bookcase, tucked into the front of the almanac, there's a picture. The one we had taken at Lake Champlain."

He knew that Alex remembered the picture; during the months they'd been lovers, it had sat, framed, on that same bookcase. When he'd discovered Alex's betrayal, Mulder had thrown the picture across the room, shattering the glass of the frame. But he'd never been able to bring himself to get rid of the photograph.

As Mulder watched now, that crooked grin reappeared on the younger man's face.

"You still have that?" Alex asked quietly.

"Yeah," Mulder admitted, rising from the bed. "And I'd like to keep it. But only if you can collect it with no trouble. Don't risk your life over it." He reached the doorway, where Alex stood, still smiling. "That photo means a lot to me, Alex. But nothing means more to me than you do. Not some picture, not the whole planet. Not even Scully." He drew his fingers along Alex's jaw. "So take care, okay? "

Alex nodded wordlessly, took a silent step backward, and turned toward the stairs.

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

The rest of the morning passed quickly. Mulder spent much of it with Alex's laptop computer, researching news stories on Howard Salt, the arrests made at the Montana compound, his own disappearance and death. The mainstream news media had discovered the story of the exhumation of Fox Mulder's body, but were at a loss to explain it. The official quotes from the bureau were included in the articles, but Mulder didn't see how anyone could believe them. No official story could explain the resurrection of a man three months buried.

The arrests at the Montana compound had received little attention, but Mulder found the photographs interesting. He'd heard Alex and Smith refer to Absalom, but this was the first time he'd seen pictures of the man. Not quite what he expected, somehow; the calm determination in Absalom's eyes reminded Mulder of Smith himself.

One photograph in particular caught Mulder's interest. In it, Absalom was pictured with a handful of followers. There was no article attached, but the caption referred to the group as members of a UFO cult. And one of the members, clearly visible in the upper corner, was Howard Salt.

Mulder jotted down the URL of the website and continued.

The coverage of Howard Salt himself was still sketchy. The man worked for the United States Census bureau, and had a recent history of poor attendance and low performance.

Not a single article referred to the CD that he, Smith and Alex had seen in the guard's hand.

Damned mainstream media. Can't count on them to report anything properly.

Curious, he began accessing the search engines for any other articles or information on Salt. Story after story reported the same handful of details. It wasn't until he hit an underground site that he found what he was looking for. Salt had granted the site owners an interview only a few days ago, revealing his abduction experiences and his suspicions that aliens were beginning to take over the United States. In the interview, Salt expressed his frustration with the news media, whom he had approached repeatedly with his information.

Odd, Mulder thought. As far as he had seen, not a single news source had mentioned previous encounters with Salt. Wonder if someone's been shutting them up.

Reading further, Mulder was surprised to discover his own name in the article.

' "…the takeover is escalating," Salt continued. "There are people whom we know to be dead, returning to life under the possession of the extraterrestrials. That FBI agent, Fox Mulder, for example. Everyone swept that story aside, didn't they? But I've got a list of others, as well. People whom it's been verified were dead…"

So that's what's on that CD, Mulder figured. The list. Salt obviously hadn't known the details of Mulder's rescue, or that it was a government-designed clone that had been buried and later exhumed. But the majority of his conclusions fit with what Mulder knew. He read on:

" …but have apparently turned up alive. The US government has an additional database of statistics on these people - samples of their fingerprints, voiceprints, DNA. Their entire genetic makeup…"

That may explain the clones, Mulder thought. But was it possible that the government knew in advance who would be abducted, knew which abductees would receive those alien implants and which would not?

His own father had known in advance that Samantha would be taken, had in fact chosen her to be an abductee. That cigarette-smoking bastard had known that Cassandra Spender would be taken multiple times.

Alex had known that Scully would be taken.

Hadn't he?

The rest of the interview yielded nothing new to Mulder. A quick search of the site's archives, and he discovered that there were no more articles concerning Howard Salt. Curious, he scrolled back up the alphabetized list for his own name. A site like this ought to have something more on him, he thought wryly.

He found links to two articles.

Mulder, Fox: FBI agent revived three months after burial.
Mulder, Fox: Paranormal investigator abducted by aliens?

He was about to follow the first link when his eye caught the name just above his own.

Miles, William: OR man revives during autopsy.

Billy Miles?

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

Alex scoped the park, his mind automatically scrutinizing and categorizing the early afternoon crowd. Most of them still wore jackets, the spring sun not yet warm enough in the chill air. Tourists, businessmen and women, packs of children on class trips - no one who looked out of place.

And no sign of Rohrer.

The busy visibility of this location generally wouldn't be Alex's idea of a good place to meet with a contact. But calling to arrange a better time and place would have been nothing more than a stalling tactic, since Alex knew he could find Rohrer jogging here any afternoon. That the wide open area of the park soothed his claustrophobic nerves was only a lucky coincidence. Nothing more.

"Looking for someone?"

Fuck.

Alex spun around instantly, facing the questioner before the last syllable was out. His hand in his jacket pocket gripped the Glock concealed there, and his knuckles brushed the cool metal of the pick beside it.

He didn't remove either weapon. The man in front of him, dark-suited and straight-backed, had to be bureau. But he was alone, and he didn't appear ready to pull out the handcuffs.

"Do I know you?" Alex asked coolly. He was still unsettled by the way this man had snuck up on him so easily, but he was damned if he was going to let the bastard know it.

The man extended his hand to shake. Alex ignored the gesture; he wasn't ready to sacrifice quick access to his weapons.

"My name is Crane," the agent said, withdrawing his hand. Alex's mind flashed back to a moment, six years earlier, when he'd been on the other side of that gesture. "I'm with the FBI," Crane told him.

No kidding, Alex thought. "So?"

"I'm also a friend of Knowle Rohrer's," Crane declared. "He pointed you out to me, Mr. Krycek."

So he's around here someplace. Alex's eyes swept across the visible expanse of park over Crane's shoulder.

"Oh, he's not here right now," Crane said, observing the movement. "But he thought I might be able to help you."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Alex asked, skeptical.

Crane shrugged. "You don't have to," he replied. "But I have reason to believe that you and I are on the same side in certain…affairs. The same side that Knowle is on."

"Maybe," Alex said gruffly. His mind was spinning through the possibilities. Was this guy telling the truth? Did he know that Rohrer was a replicant? Was he one, himself? If he was an associate of Rohrer before Rohrer's transformation, he could prove to be a valuable ally. Assuming he was telling the truth.

He couldn't chance any of it. There was too damn much at stake. He needed more information.

"Alright, then," he proposed. "Why don't we both go meet Rohrer right now?"

The suggestion seemed to surprise Crane. He was silent for a moment before he nodded. "Okay," Crane agreed. "We can go right now. He's on the other side of the park."

So he lied just a minute ago, Alex noted.

"But we may have to wait," Crane cautioned as they began walking. "He was going to meet with someone else this afternoon."

" 'S okay, I'll wait." Alex glanced casually at the man walking beside him. If Rohrer really had told Crane that Alex was on their side, then this man might be willing to share a bit of information. It was worth a try, he thought. "So if we're all in this together, how about telling me who Rohrer's meeting with?"

Crane smiled amicably. "Sure. It's not an ally, though. It's another agent. One I work with, myself, as a matter of fact." As they approached the north gate of the park, Crane nodded his head in the direction of two men standing by a water fountain. Rohrer's tall form was unmistakable. The other fellow, Alex reasoned, must be the one Crane meant.

It was Agent Doggett.

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

"So he really didn't know anything?" Mulder asked. He watched as Alex spread mustard onto a roll and began fixing his third sandwich. He must not have eaten all day, Mulder thought.

"He says he doesn't," Alex answered, glancing at the other two men in turn. "He's up to something, though. He told me he expected to find out more about that CD after Doggett looks into the Census database. But I think he's lying. I think he's setting Doggett up for something."

"For what?" Smith queried.

"I don't know. All I know is that he's planning to tip Doggett off to the passcode for that database. I told Rohrer I'd be back in DC in a couple of days to see what he learned."

"So the whole meeting was a bust," Mulder grumbled. "You're going to have to do it all over again."

Alex swallowed a bite of his sandwich and shook his head. "Not a bust, Fox," he told him with a smile. "I may have gotten one or two things taken care of."

Mulder looked at him, curious. There was a touch of optimism in Alex's tone, almost a sense of self-satisfaction. "Such as?"

Smith answered for Alex. "For one thing, we know about Agent Crane," he reminded Mulder. "And we know that Agent Doggett is associated in some way with Knowle Rohrer."

That was true, Mulder acknowledged with a nod. He turned back to Alex. "Anything else?"

"I think I may have neutralized the threat the replicants pose for Scully," Alex told him.

Mulder stared, dumbfounded.

"How?" Smith asked with interest.

"I told Rohrer that the Zeus project had been undermined. That Scully's baby isn't what they think it is - that it's a human-alien hybrid."

"What?" Mulder asked. "It isn't, is it?"

"No, of course not," Alex assured him. "But it's better if they think it is." He took another hungry bite from his sandwich.

Smith nodded pensively. "That's very clever, Alex," he agreed. "For the replicants, a superhuman is a threat to be eliminated before it's even born. But if they believe that the baby is a successful hybrid, they'll do whatever they have to in order to protect it."

"Meaning?" Mulder queried.

Alex explained, "For the past fifty years, the aliens have been waiting for us to create a successful hybrid. It was part of a bargain we struck with them."

"Cassandra Spender," Mulder remembered. "The consortium was supposed to oversee the experiments. That's how they thought they'd save themselves."

"And stall the colonization," Alex pointed out. "The aliens wanted a hybrid species that would be strong enough to use for slave labor."

Smith concurred. "And they'd still like that."

"So you think they'll leave Scully alone now?" Mulder wanted to know. He wasn't so sure of that, himself.

But Smith and Alex both nodded. "For the time being, at least," the older man said. "Unless they have reason to think that she'll abort it. They won't let her hurt it herself, either."

No problem there, Mulder thought. She's wanted a baby for too long.

"Why just Scully?" he asked Alex. "Why didn't you tell Rohrer that all six of the babies were hybrids?"

"Couldn't risk it," Alex told him. "Some of them might be born before Scully's kid is. If they have time to find out that I lied to them…"

"…they'd be back to going after her," Mulder finished for him. And they'll kill you as well, he thought. Oh god, Alex. You've got to stop doing this...

"Better that at least one of the kids is safe from them," Alex said. That earlier light had faded from his eyes, though, and Mulder cursed himself for asking the question.

"Clever," Smith reiterated, rising from the table.

Mulder nodded in agreement. "It is, Alex," he said. The younger man looked at him from under those thick dark lashes, making Mulder smile in spite of himself. "And thank you," he added quietly.

Alex shrugged it off.

Placing his coffee cup in the sink, Smith said, "I'd better be getting over to the compound. Unless there was anything else…"

"Nope," Alex told him. "That's about it. McCarniss told me nothing, except that he's having Mulder's double reinstated at the bureau. Scully and Skinner had already submitted a request, so McCarniss only had to pull a few strings there. He says he doesn't know anything about Howard Salt or that CD."

Smith nodded. "Well, we expected that." He crossed the kitchen archway and took his windbreaker from the closet. "Good-night, gentleman," he said.

"Good-night," Mulder answered, pushing his own chair back to rise from the table. He dumped the last of his cold coffee into the sink. "Drive carefully," he cautioned.

Alex only mumbled, " 'Night, Jem," through a mouthful of sandwich.

Pulling on the light nylon jacket, Smith let himself out the door.

Mulder waited until the roar of the pick-up had dimmed before speaking again. He crouched alongside the other man's chair, facing him. "Alex?"

"Hmm?" Alex swallowed the last of his sandwich with a hard gulp. "What is it, Fox?"

Mulder reached over, taking Alex's chin lightly in his hand, drawing Alex's gaze to him.

"Look," he said, "I know that there are things we haven't talked much about -"

He broke off as Alex pulled back. His hand slid from his lover's jaw to the back of the man's neck, holding him firmly in place. "No, let me say this, okay?"

The green eyes darkened, but Alex said, "Go ahead."

"I just need you to understand this," Mulder said simply. "I don't care anymore what you did in the past. It's just not worth losing you again." He paused, but his lover only stared wordlessly at him. "Well, I just wanted you to know that. Okay?"

Alex was still for a moment. "Okay," he agreed quietly.

Mulder pressed a light kiss against the other man's forehead. "So," he said, rising, "are you finished with supper, or do I have to wait a while longer before I get you into bed?"

"I'm done with supper," Alex grinned, "but you can't go upstairs yet. There's one more thing to take care of." Intrigued, Mulder asked, "What is it?"

"Checkbook pocket of my jacket," Alex told him. "Go look."

Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, brought me a surprise, did you?"

"Hardly," Alex answered. "You asked me for it this morning."

Mulder was on his feet instantly. His lover's soft chuckle followed him across the hallway to the closet door. It was a nice sound, he thought as he plunged his hand into the deep pocket. He knew what he'd find, even before his fingers identified the cool smooth surface of the small sheet.

He withdrew his hand, pulling the little photograph along with it. Staring up from the picture were three smiling faces - his own, Alex's, and a plastic replica of Champ, the sea monster.

Mulder smiled back at them.

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