enpu9.cc 
"Dead man's shoes." Saunders replies languidly, but his words chill me to the bone as I remember the dead men we fished out of the Potomac. "So let's hope he's well enough for that little fight, Fox. Or..." He trails off, and smiles at me.
"Or what?"
"Or else." Saunders's mouth has settled into a grim line.
"You cannot be serious!" I snarl, advancing on him. "He's ill, for fuck's sake. He'll never be well enough for some, what, fight to the death? Is that what you're suggesting?"
"Not quite." Saunders squares up to me, pulling me up short. "But near enough. It's more...interesting than that. He will have to fight, though."
"He can't!" I yell, unable to contain myself anymore. "Not unless you bring in a fucking doctor!"
"Ah, well…" Saunders smiles at me again, reaching out a finger to flick a lock of my hair from my forehead. "You know, if you want something from me, you might have to offer something in return, Fox."
"Offer...? What the fuck are you talking about? What do you want from me?" I shout.
"You know what I want. Make sure you ask nicely." He grins again and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him as he goes.
The bastard. The fucking bastard. I weigh this up in my head as I sit on the end of the bed, watching Skinner take gasping breaths, his face disfigured by bruises and cuts, his body even worse. So, Saunders wants what he has sought from the beginning, what I have never given anyone but Skinner. He wants more than I've even given Skinner. He wants more than just my submission—he wants to break me, and he wants me to ask him for that. No—he wants me to beg him. And if I don't, Skinner doesn't get a doctor, and very probably that means that somewhere along the line he ends up in the Potomac, minus parts of his anatomy that both he and I are very attached to. I wonder how close the team is to finding us, but Skinner is right. You can't expect the cavalry to show up just in time to save you. You have to save yourself.
"What should I do?" I ask him.
He's asleep, and I'm not expecting a response, so I'm not disappointed. I crawl over and lie against him. His skin is clammy, and his body is still generating a great heat.
"What do you want me to do?" I ask him.
He has dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks like a vulnerable child. I never thought I'd say that about him, but it's true—and there is nobody but me to take care of him. He's always so vital, so full of energy and purpose. He's never needed anyone to take care of him. I remember Sharon and the way she seemed to long to look after him. Not a chance. And now he's mine, or I'm his, or maybe it's the same thing, and what was it I said about responsibility running both ways?
"Sweet dreams." I get up, stretching cautiously as my heavily-welted back protests. "'Tis a far, far better thing.', 'the needs of the one,' blah, blah and all that crap." I bend over and kiss him. "Oh, what the hell, I'll do it. After all, I'm just going to get exactly what everyone thinks I've deserved for a long time, even you, I'll bet. You can see why he wants to break me. I bet that every so often you dream yourself about taking me down to the level of Fox Mulder, obedient slave-slut. Yeah, I'd be the man of your wet dreams, all right. Trust me, if I let him do this, it'll be even better. Just think—no more temper-tantrums, no more mouthing off. By the time you get me back, I'll be a model agent. You'll be able to order me to do anything. No more chasing after UFOs. No more government conspiracies or endless arguments over expense reports. It'll be 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir' from now on. He can do all the hard work, and you can reap the rewards. Yeah, it's perfect. I'll be exactly what you've always wanted. Manageable, controllable, obedient. I'll sit beside your desk, and you can pat my head occasionally and toss me a few sunflower seeds. Do you think I might be delaying the inevitable with all this babbling?"
No answer is forthcoming. His chest rises and falls, and rises and falls, and he doesn't even wake up when my stupid tears drop on his face, sad bastard that I am.
"Okay, okay, I'm going. Don't ever say that I never do anything for you. Selling yourself into slavery must be pretty high on anyone's list of devoted acts. Maybe someone will write a poem about my selfless sacrifice one day. Maybe... Oh, shut the fuck up, Mulder."
I'm not defeated yet. Not quite yet. I think I can still give the loathsome Saunders a shock, even if I have to give in to the inevitable eventually. I dress for success, just like a top, including a pair of shoes, which, after a few days barefoot, seems like a luxury even if they are a size too big for me. Then I comb my hair neatly, and brush my teeth.
* * *
Finally I arrive at Saunders's door and knock. He opens it himself, which throws me. A quick glance around is sufficient for me to realize that Nick is not present.
"Come in, Fox." Saunders studies my clothing with a frown, trying to get a handle on the game I'm about to play. He seats himself in the armchair and studies me. "You had something you wished to ask?" He smiles.
"Yes." I sit down on the end of the bed without being invited to do so, watching the frown crease his forehead again, and the flash of anger in his eyes. His fingers jerk involuntarily and I know that he's longing to reprimand me.
"Well?" He folds his hands patiently and waits.
"I'm a psychology student," I begin. "And this place is an interesting area for study. However, that's all it is to me—something to study. Human behavior here is at its most basic. There is an interesting dichotomy at work. This is a ritualistic society supposedly avowing a policy of ‘no rules’, when in fact there is a very complex system of rules, all of them designed to maintain a hierarchical structure with extremely paternalistic foundations. I find that fascinating."
"Well, I always knew you were clever as well as pretty," Saunders smirks patronizingly. "And it pleases me. It makes you a charming addition to my collection. When the fucking is done, it's enjoyable to be entertained by conversation. I like a healthy discussion, Fox. You won't find me a harsh master in that respect."
"I'm sure that intellectual, post-coital conversations would have their pleasures for you, but I was trying to prepare you for something else entirely. Please hear me out." I glance at him and he inclines his head gracefully.
"By all means. I'm intrigued as to where this is going."
"Well, I am not what you think I am."
"Really?" He raises an eyebrow.
"I came here out of curiosity. Curiosity takes me many places. Perhaps it also takes me to places where I shouldn't go and where I do not belong."
"A-ha." Saunders nods and smiles. "And you think that you do not belong here?"
"That's right." I smile back, as pleasantly as I can. "I came here from motives other than those I led you to believe. Skinner is not the sort of man you believe him to be, either. I am not his 'slave' in any sense of the word, anymore than I am yours. I attend school on a full scholarship, carry a full course load in many challenging subjects, have an interesting life and enjoy many varied activities. I do not harbor fantasies of possession and ownership. The idea of men fighting over me is even less appealing. I do not view myself as a sexual plaything, a toy to be used by older or stronger men. If it would help you to be convinced, I'd happily fight you myself. I'm not a complete slouch when it comes to fighting." I'm not, either, although admittedly I'm not exactly known for being a street fighter.
"I'm sure," he nods, his smile growing wider.
"Skinner followed me here because he believed me to be in danger from my own intellectual curiosity. He is well aware of the trouble it has gotten me into before. There is no sense in which Mithras fulfils any of my sexual needs or desires. I misled you on that matter in order to gain access to this place. I apologize for that. However, you are, in effect, asking me to enter into some form of consensual bondage to you. I sense, from what you have said, that my consent on this issue is of some importance to you. Maybe you regard it as the first step towards, as you put it, ‘breaking’ me or maybe you have more noble motives in this respect. I don't know."
"No. Indeed," he murmurs, his eyes boring into me as I speak. "And?"
"I cannot give you the subservience you require because it is not in my nature. I accept that I have led you to believe otherwise, but I ask you to now accept that I speak the truth, and to arrange for a doctor for Skinner. Alternatively, blindfold us and return us to Washington DC. We do not know the location of this place, and would, therefore, pose no threat to you, or to Mithras."
"Splendid, Mr. Mulder." He gets up and invades my space, standing too close to me.
"You'll do as I ask?" I can't believe it will be that easy, and I have noticed his term of address.
"No. Of course not," he smiles. "Dear Mr. Mulder. You see, I'm happy to accord you the respect of a title. When you speak so eloquently I find that I am sincerely moved by you." He looks as unmoved as ever. I don't believe the man has any more emotions than your average cat toying with a mouse. "And it is an interesting game that you've chosen to play. If you are not, and you say you are not, a submissive, then are we to believe that you are a top?"
"No. I'm not that, either. I'm not into any of this stuff." I wave my hand around in a wild gesture, trying to regain some control of the situation.
"And do you seriously think you could beat me in a fight?"
"No," I reply honestly. "I'm not sure that I could, but if it would prove anything, I'd happily challenge you."
"And if I defeated you, would you then offer me your submission?" he asks, stalking me with his eyes.
"No," I tell him firmly. He laughs out loud, a delighted laugh of wry amusement.
"Oh, Fox. I've had enough of this," he says when he's finished chuckling to himself. "The truly amazing thing is that I think you believe it all. Poor deluded boy." He shakes his head ruefully. "Why so scared, Fox? Why are you so scared of finding out what's underneath all your clever words, and what's behind everything you do and say?"
"I'm not scared..." I begin, but in a lightning flash of movement, he forces me against the wall, putting his wrists on either side of my head, leaning into me.
"Yes, you are. Now stand still and listen to me, and when I've finished, we'll start again. And the only words I'll be expecting from you are these: 'Please break me, master.' Understood?"
I open my mouth to protest and he shuts it with a flick of his finger.
"And you'll say those words on your knees at my feet. And when you say them, you'll have removed all these trappings of Mr. Mulder." He waves a hand at my clothing. "And you'll be naked. Then, and only then, I might deign to fuck you. Now listen to me."
I close my eyes, feeling his warm breath on my cheek as he talks, the rub of his silky shirtsleeve against my ear.
