|Primary Characters:||Several major X files characters|
|Warning:||m/m sex, rape of minor|
|Description:||Spender sends Mulder his father’s old diary.|
Mulder put down the phone, frowning. Dana stared at her lover with concern written all over her face.
“I was checking my messaging service and it seems Jeffrey’s left me something.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t bother. That man really is out of control.”
“It’s just that this seems to be something from my dad.”
“Really? I still wouldn’t advice it. I may be stating the obvious here, but remember it could be a trap. I wouldn’t put anything past that madman.”
“Me neither. But I still have to do this.”
Dana’s look of concern deepened into a frown. If she put her mind to it, she could probably stop Mulder from going. But was it fair of her to do so? She knew far too well how desperately he needed to to fill in the blanks in his memory, to find the missing pieces.
“Alright. I’m coming with you. No, Mulder, don’t argue. This time I won’t let you out of my sight.”
“Ok. I’m sorry to be such a pain.”
“A pain? Yes, you are. But we’ll get to that later. Now, I’ll just go talk to Missy.”
Dana didn’t get to go without an argument from her sister, but despite that, two hours later they were driving towards the city and the airport. Whatever sick stunt Jeffrey had planned, she wouldn’t let him get away with it.
This time, however, it soon became apparent that the man himself was nowhere to be seen. All Mulder could find was a small package that turned out to contain a diary. A simple hand-written diary. What could be the point?
“What is it? What’s the big deal?”
When he answered her there was a catch in his voice.
“It’s my dad’s diary. From the years immediately before and after Samantha’s disappearance.”
“Jeffrey could have had it forged, I guess -“
“I’ll find that out soon enough. Langly has a test that he can perform -“
“Ok. Let’s call your charming friends.”
This time, the sarcasm in her voice filtered through to Mulder and he studied her face, a slight smile playing on his lips.
“I don’t know what you have against them. They’re a bit weird, I’ll admit that, but -“
“A bit weird? They give the word a new definition. Besides, Langly never fails to make a crude pass at me. You know, I’ve always wondered why you never took offence.”
Mulder smiled sheepishly at her. Of course he wouldn’t go so far as to challenge a man because he hit on Mulder’s lover. Now if Dana ever ran into Marita Covarrubias, she’d – Oh, well. It didn’t seem likely that they ever would meet in person.
“There’s no chance of you falling for him, is there?”
“What do you think?”
Dana decided to let her lover off the hook for the time being. This diary seemed to mean a lot to him, and he needed time to go through it. It occurred to her that she ought to take a look first, to make sure there would be nothing in there that would cause Mulder pain.
What if there was? Could she persuade him not to read it? Maybe. But this was more important to him than anything else right now, she could tell. On the way back, she decided to bring up the topic.
“Would you let me see it before you read it?”
Mulder shot her an inquiring glance.
“Well, it occurred to me that whether this diary is real or not, Jeffrey hardly sent it to you out of the kindness of his heart. There might be things in there that will cause you pain. If I took a look, I could tell you if there’s anything relevant to Samantha’s disappearance.”
A long silence greeted her statement. She could feel Mulder’s gaze travelling across her features.
“I think I need to know. But I don’t mind if you look at it first. You could warn me if there’s anything particularly disturbing.”
“Ok. But please, if there is something like that, wouldn’t you consider not reading it?”
“I don’t know. It depends on what it’s about.”
“Alright. You never know what might be in there. If it’s real, it could be a veritable Pandora’s box.”
“I know. You don’t need to tell me. My whole past is a can of worms, I’m well aware of that. Who knows what else might be waiting to spring on me? I just feel I should know.”
“You could be right. Ok. As soon as I’ve had it analyzed, I’ll let you go through it.”
Langly’s analysis took just over a week, but in that time, Mulder had plenty of time to pace around the farm impatiently, his mind filled with visions of any number of imagined horrors. Then one morning, there was a package in their PO box. Dana and Missy had come along to do some shopping, and Dana could see how the strain was wearing on her lover. Once back at the farm, Mulder regretfully turned the diary over to Dana.
“This is the right decision, I know it is, Mulder. I promise I’ll tell you about the contents as soon as I can. At least it seems to be the real thing. That’s a start. How accurate are those tests anyway?”
“According to Langly, 200 %.”
“That figures. What do you think?”
“I think this is my dad’s real diary. For what it’s worth.”
“I see. Well, I’ll get right on it. Will you be ok?”
He smiled in an attempt to reassure her. She knew him well enough by now, to be able to tell how disturbed he was by this voice from the past. Again, she cursed that lunatic Spender for his obsession with them. One day she would – but for now it was best that she concentrated on this diary. Whatever it contained, she would find out and give Mulder a dressed up version. Knowing what the elder Mulder was like, she couldn’t imagine that his diary was all sweetness.
“I’ll go and talk to Alex. We might as well get to know each other, now that we’re family.”
Dana repressed a whimsical impulse to tell her lover to run and play with his brother. Under the circumstances, she doubted that he would be amused.
As soon as Mulder disappeared, Dana turned her attention to the diary lying on the desk in front of her. Despite her reassurances, she feared what might be contained within. Whatever it was, she had a feeling it would cause her lover pain.
It was an eerie sensation, looking into the mind of a man who was now dead, but who was the cause of so much of the torment that her lover had had to endure. And though dead and buried, he still had the power to cause even more pain.
At first she merely scanned the entries, trying to catch the gist of the journal. It didn’t take her long to realize that she didn’t want to let Mulder know any of it. All of it would sadden and upset him. Pushing the thought aside for the time being, she forced herself to get down to some serious reading.
I saw Spender again today. As always, I count the hours and the minutes until I can be with him. From the moment I laid eyes on him, I knew I belonged to him. It was something I could never have imagined would happen. When I met Teena, everything was different. I loved her from the start, but I never felt I was her possession like I am his.
Whatever he tells me to do I do, without question. This is foolish of me, I know, but it’s too late for regrets. I am way beyond any caution. Teena seems to suspect that I am more loyal to Spender than to her and the children, but I know she can have no suspicion of the real truth. I still make love to her. Not as often as I used to, but enough so she can’t suspect I love someone else.
I remember the first day I met him. He had this unmistakable air of authority that made me surrender to him from the start. He owns me, and he knows it. I know he uses this to his advantage, but I can’t find it in my heart to resent that. If he asked me to give up Teena, I don’t know what I would do. Fortunately, he knows better than to make me choose.
We had a situation today. Spender was able to contain it. The fact that he is a ruthless killer sometimes frightens me. I know he can present a cold front to people who know him. When I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I know there is always a coldness inside him. It doesn’t deter me. I know how much passion he is capable of.
He let me into more of his secrets tonight. The truth is amazing, frightening, impossible. But I know he would never lie to me, no matter what else he is capable of. It pleases me that he confides in me. He depends on me. I know he couldn’t do much of what he does without my help.
Teena is making trouble about my work. I must find a way to convince him that she is no threat to our work, to us. Despite everything, I can’t do without her. When we were first married she was the loveliest girl in the world, and there are still times when she can move me like no one else. There is something about her face that touches me deeply. Our boy, Fox, is the image of her. I have never seen such a beautiful child.
Samantha too takes after her mother, in every way. She is strong-willed and independent. I feel somehow daunted by the strength of character she displays. Those eyes seem to see right through me, laying bare every secret in my soul. It worries me. If she should find out about me and my lover, would she tell her mother? I can’t imagine life without Teena, any more than I could do without my lover. They are both precious to me in their own ways.
In the past year or so, Fox has begun to grow up. It disturbs me greatly. He is causing feelings to stir inside me, just like once his mother did. Am I losing my mind? This isn’t the way a man should be thinking about his own son. His hazel eyes seem to be constantly fixed on me, pleading with me, wanting to please me.
I know I am a difficult father. Distant, aloof, strict. That is how my own father raised me. But I know he never looked upon me the way I now find myself studying Fox. I am beginning to think I will be unable to resist the attraction I feel. This is something I can never discuss with anyone.
Once I tried to bring up the topic with Spender. After all, he too has a son, and I felt that he might be able to dispel this madness. But I was wrong. He looked at me with indifference. The question does not interest him. I should have known not to bring to him my personal problems.
Though I want to know everything about him, share every aspect of his life, I know I don’t hold a position of similar importance in his life. When we are together, he won’t let me waste our time on small talk. We always cut right to the heart of our relationship. His hands can drive me to such heights of ecstasy even Teena never could.
It’s no use. I can’t resist the temptation my son presents to me. Spender would not approve, but I don’t consult him anymore. What really worries me is what my wife might suspect. I find myself turning to the same kind of subterfuge my lover does, but in this case only my own weaknesses are involved, not the fate of the entire world. On that scale of things, does it really matter what happens between me and my own flesh and blood? Soon this world will have other matters to concern itself with.
Last night, I found myself irresistibly drawn to the children’s room. The girl was fast asleep, and so was Fox. It didn’t matter to me. He is as beautiful in sleep as he is awake. I just stood and watched his sleeping form. His face is so innocent and open in repose. His hair is tousled, his thick dark lashes cover the hazel of his eyes.
I had to keep myself firmly in check, so I wouldn’t reach out and touch his face, trace the line of his neck, continue down his body, lingering on his hip, his long, slender legs. Before I cross that line, I bite sharply into my own lip. Whatever else I have done, I don’t want to be this monster who is lusting after my own child. The salty taste of blood in my mouth restores my sanity for the moment and I flee back into my study. Right now, I can’t face Teena. I have a horrible suspicion she will read the truth in my eyes.
I went into the children’s room again last night. Teena woke up when I got out of bed, and I had to make up some excuse about an important phone call. Hopefully, she believed me. That sort of thing is common in my line of work. Nightly phone calls to operatives on faraway continents. Emergencies have pulled me from her bed before.
This time, it’s been more than two months since we last made love. After my meetings with my lover, I have no taste for her gentle embrace. As soon as I left the room, she was forgotten.
Again, I stood staring avidly down at my own flesh and blood. I’m losing my struggle to resist. Soon I won’t be able to stop myself from letting my hands continue the visual exploration of my son’s features.
On a few occasions, I have watched him at play in the garden, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. The ripple of wiry muscle under the smooth adolescent skin is exquisite, and I love watching him running. Those long legs.
A sharp pain in the palm of my hand shakes me from the fantasy. My own fingernails digging into the sensitive skin, recall me to reality. Once again, I have pulled myself back from the inferno.
My wife has gone to visit her mother. I don’t know whether to feel relieved or worried. What might I do without her restraining influence? If the desire gets too great and my lover won’t satisfy it for me, I can always turn to my wife. Now she won’t be there to save me from myself.
Another concern is my daughter. What if she wakes up and sees me standing there over her brother?
Again, the devil’s luck conspires to leave me free to continue down the road to damnation. Samantha asks me if she may spend the night over at a friend’s house. I don’t know what my wife normally replies to such a request. It has always seemed best to leave the raising of our daughter to Teena. For a second I contemplate refusing. With Samantha in the room, I might not give in to the temptation this time either. But I can’t resist and I tell her she can.
When she impulsively hugs me in gratitude I tense up. She instantly senses my reaction and pulls away. What am I doing? Rejecting one child’s love, while planning the seduction of the other.
But now it’s too late for regrets. I have decided on this course of action, and I can’t turn back. When I suggest Fox and I watch a game together, I hate myself for my duplicity. My son’s face lights up. It’s a rare occasion for him to spend time with his father. Why can’t I be the father he deserves? But his beauty is blinding me. I can’t let anything stand in my way.
After a quick dinner, I retired into my office. I knew my son was doing his homework, and I tried to concentrate on my own work. Unsuccessfully. After a while, I gave up. I opened my bottom desk drawer and took out my revolver. It occurred to me that the best service I could do my family would be to put the barrel of the gun into my mouth and pull the trigger. The metal feels cool against my skin. I think I sat like that for the better part of an hour, until I finally gave up.
After all, I don’t want to die. I enjoy my life too much. By then all was quiet in the house. Fox must have gone to sleep. There was still time to reconsider. No one could guess at the turmoil in my mind. On my wife’s return, nothing would have changed. But I can’t resist and this time no one’s around to deter me.
Tonight, he seems lovelier than ever, my son, Fox. I love the curve of his mouth, the softness of his skin, the outline of his long slender legs that the covers can’t hide completely. One well-shaped foot sticks out from under the sheet. I place my hand on the bare skin. Fox moves about uneasily in his sleep but doesn’t wake up. Now my hands have trailed up to his hair, and I ruffle it tentatively. He still doesn’t wake up. At that age, one sleeps deeply.
I consider my next move. There is too much fabric covering his sleeping form. I want to see more of him. This is not satisfying my need. Very lightly I pull down the covers, revealing a t-shirt-covered shoulder and a silky smooth arm. I can’t stop myself from letting my fingers trace the line of that wiry arm. This time he does wake up. His sleepy eyes flutter and look up at me, still without any trace of fear.
“Dad? Is anything wrong? Has anything happened to mom?”
I don’t know what to say, so I don’t reply. Instead I continue my exploration of this body that has sprung from mine. He is so lovely, so trusting, so enticing. Now at last a shadow of doubt creeps into his eyes. Where once there was so much love, will there be distrust and loathing? I find that I don’t care as much as I know I should. All that matters is satisfying this shameful need.
“No. Let me go. Why are you doing this? ”
To stop those accusations, I place my hand over his mouth. Still, he doesn’t fear enough to submit. He’s trying to fight back. I lower myself onto him, pinning him down with my weight. Now the struggle is ceasing. Finally, I am free to do what I have committed myself to. I’m lost, but that no longer concerns me.
When it’s over, the pounding of the pulse in my ears subsides and I can hear my son’s sobbing. Now that the hunger is satisfied, I realize what it is I have done. I will burn in hell for this, but it’s too late to worry about that. The sounds of his distress drives me out of the room into my study. Now I need Spender. He will take away the feeling of guilt. But he won’t come. I can hear his low mocking laughter at the other end of the line.
“You mustn’t think you can command me. I’ll see you when I choose to, not when you want me. Remember that, Bill. Besides, what do you need me for? That brat of yours seems to satisfy all your needs.”
“Please, don’t do this. I need you.”
“Really? You have a fine way of showing it. When you have considered your actions carefully, you may call me again. Good night, Bill.”
The click is final. He means what he says. This has never been a game played on my terms but I have never been aware of it as I am tonight.
Again, I take out my gun, toying with the idea of putting out the fire once and for all. If I pull the trigger, there will be no more burning in this life, no matter what awaits me on the other side. So easy. So quick, so painless. I almost welcome the release.
Almost but not quite. My work isn’t done, and though I detest myself for my actions, I can’t resist. Teena, Fox, Spender. I need them all. Without them, I’d be nothing. This has to go on, no matter the consequences.
Teena is back. I was sure she would be able to guess what had happened. I even agonized over the possibility that my son might tell someone of what occurred between us. Confused I might be, but I’m not quite foolish enough to delude myself into believing the encounter meant the same thing to him as it did to me. What kind of monster am I? The sort of beast who preys on his own child, that’s what I am. A man who will cheat on his wife with another man. That’s who I am.
Spender called me again. Apparently, I am forgiven. Our meeting left me feeling satisfied and the dark thoughts have left me for the time being. He always has this effect on me. And as I suspected, he had an assignment for me. It is as unappealing as everything else he sends me to do, but I am happy to do whatever he asks of me.
Tonight, Samantha woke up and caught me in Fox’s bed. What a fool I have been. The girl was simply impossible to reason with. I’m beginning to fear I shall have to do something about her.
Again, I put my problem to my lover and for once he agrees with me. That pleases me. If he worries that I might be in trouble with the authorities he must love me and need me, just like I crave his touch, his proximity, even the look in his eyes. He promised me he would take care of the problem.
But when I have been reassured about this, I begin to have second thoughts. What kind of man would turn his own child over to the kind of treatment I know my lover has planned for her? And what’s even more vital, how can I deceive my wife about it? She will protest, and there isn’t much I can do to convince her of the wisdom of such a course. If I don’t tread carefully, Teena will have to go as well. And I couldn’t stand to lose her. I can live without Samantha, but not Teena or Fox, and definitely not without Spender.
Here Dana flung the book away from her in disgust. She couldn’t stand it anymore. This was the man responsible for her abduction, she was sure of it. Maybe if she delved more deeply into the quagmire of betrayal and deceit the diary contained, she might find proof of his complicity. Or maybe not. It was quite enough what this man had done to his son, to his wife and to his daughter.
How could she sugarcoat this enough to allow Mulder to see this? She didn’t think it was possible. If he read the entries in the diary, he would be going through the same agony he had all those years ago. And to imagine the coldbloodedness of a man who would send his child to endure years of torment at the hands of people in league with his unspeakably evil lover was simply beyond her worst nightmares.
There was a knock on the door. Dana looked up to see that darkness had fallen and she hadn’t had any lunch or dinner today. She became aware of being hungry and tired. Was that her sister to tell her dinner was ready? Or Fox to ask her about the contents of her father’s diary?
Her voice sounded hoarse in her own ears. What would she tell him, if it was her lover? And the door opened to reveal Mulder, anxiously scanning her face for a clue to the contents of his father’s diary.
“Have you finished reading that thing yet?”
“Almost. Look, Mulder, I would really like to ask you not to read it yourself. So far there are no clues as to Samantha’s whereabouts, and even if there were, she wouldn’t still be there. What could you stand to gain by immersing yourself in this again?”
“So it’s that bad, huh?”
“Worse than you can imagine. It’s like a glimpse into a sick mind. The evil of that man – I’m sorry. I know he was your father, but -“
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. What is it about, exactly?”
“Weren’t you the one who told me it was better facing the demons from the past?”
“Alright. I did. But that was then. You have faced those demons and exorcised them. Would you really let them into your mind again?”
“I never exorcised them, Dana. They’re still there. I just learned to deal with them more efficiently. This is something I have to do. You know I appreciate your concern, and I know you’re only trying to protect me, but this is something I need to do.”
“But there’s nothing in there except his private, personal diary. It’s all about his feelings. Towards your mother, Spender and -“
“It might be interesting to see it from the other side.”
“No, Mulder. Please. This is so disturbing, it’s going to give me nightmares for months.”
“From a psychological point of view -“
“This isn’t psychology, Mulder, it’s real life. Your life.”
He smiled at her, his eyes so filled with love for her, she felt the breath catch in her throat. When he reached for her, she pulled him into her embrace and held on as if her life depended on it. But she knew she had lost. He was going to read that diary, no matter what it cost him. So she acknowledged defeat and told herself she would pick up the pieces afterwards. When he was done reading, he would find her waiting to comfort him, to ease the pain to the best of her ability.
“Melissa and Alex has dinner ready for you, if you want to eat. I already had mine early.”
“Ok. I’ll go. But you have to be prepared -“
“Yes, I’m aware of that. Go on, I’ll be ok. I’m a big boy now.”
“Remember, all this happened a long time ago. Things are different now.”
“I know. All thanks to you.”
But words couldn’t put off the grisly task ahead of him, so he forced himself to turn away from his lover and concentrate on the diary in his hands. This had to be done.
Dana had to go to bed on her own. Her lover didn’t put in an appearance until close to dawn. His face was rigid and tense, and she was unable to read his reaction.
“So you’ve finished reading it?”
He inclined his head but didn’t reply.
“Are you ok?”
Silence. Eventually, he slumped down on the bed beside her, completely exhausted by the emotional drain.
Dana sensed that right now words wouldn’t help him, so she just held out her arms to him. At first she didn’t think he was going to come to her, but finally he slid under the covers beside her, clinging to her with a desperation he rarely exhibited these days.
For a long time she let her body do the talking. Warming him, comforting him, reassuring him. But tonight they would get no sleep. As the tension slowly left him, he withdrew, apparently strong enough to talk at last.
“You were right. Not very pleasant reading. At least he seemed to have some regrets. As far as I was concerned. But I can never forgive him for what he did to Samantha. I don’t think he could ever have loved her. Maybe I should be grateful he didn’t have her killed.”
“I’m so sorry, Mulder. I wish -“
“Yes, me too. Some family. I’m glad my mother never knew about any of this.”
“Are you sure she didn’t? I mean about Samantha.”
“She might have suspected he had something to do with the abduction, but I think if she’d known she wouldn’t have kept quiet about it.”
“No. I’m sure she wouldn’t have.”
“Dana, would you hate me if I tell you I almost wish I had killed the old man?”
“Of course not. It’s perfectly understandable to resent him after all the pain he caused you and your mother and your sister.”
“Anyway, it’s far too late for that now. But Alex did me a favor really.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, but try not to think about it, Mulder. And Alex doesn’t need to be reminded of his past either. He’s feeling guilty enough as it is.”
“I know. Now that I know he’s my brother, I notice more and more how much we have in common. I mean, apart from being abused children.”
“I’m glad you two have worked out your differences. Are you ok, Mulder?”
“Yes. This diary didn’t really tell me anything new. It was just – a bit overwhelming to know what was going on in his mind. I’ve studied this kind of thing in psychology, but like you said before, this isn’t a case study, it’s real. It’s about me. I kept wanting to freeze the picture. To tell him no.”
“You tried to tell him no back then and he wouldn’t listen. It wasn’t your fault, Mulder.”
“I know that. There was nothing I could have done about it. But it’s so frustrating to know that Samantha sacrificed herself for me. And in the end she didn’t stop it from happening anyway. It went on for nearly two more years, until I realized nothing I could do would change him and I told my mother I wouldn’t go to him anymore.”
Here his voice broke, and he couldn’t go on. Again, Dana pulled him into her embrace, and this time, he finally managed to let go of the painful memories. Perhaps it was for the best. Knowing was better than anything he could imagine. But in the future, she would try to intercept whatever stabs in the back Jeffrey might choose to send their way. Her lover had been through enough.
How incredibly lucky she had been to have grown up with such kind, loving parents. She knew her father would have killed any man who dared to threaten any of his children, and so would her mother. They had kept their children safe, just like parents should. The way she would keep any of her children safe, should she be lucky enough to have any. And she knew that Mulder was nothing like his father. He would make an excellent father if that day ever came. Safe in that knowledge, Dana allowed herself to relax, while keeping watch over the man she loved.