Down to a Moonless Sea
Down to a Moonless Sea
by Megan Redwood
Down to a Moonless Sea
Keywords: Scully/other. Slash. Slight BDSM. Spoilers: None
Distribution Statement: Archive, forward, etc to your heart's content.
Summary: Everyone has darkness within their soul. We all hide it, but sometimes it needs a release.
Disclaimer: Characters from the X-Files belong to FOX and 1013. Original characters and plot are mine.
Down to a Moonless Sea
She glanced into the mirror, peering through the smoke that thickened the air in the dingy washroom and, adjusted her black lace top. The face that looked back at her, eyes shadowed by rings of black and lips shining with garnish red, she didn't like.
She never did.
But she couldn't stop.
A woman, her hair heavily plastered with purple and green, elbowed her aside and jockeyed for the mirror. She shoved back, reaching into her small leather purse for her makeup, determined not to give up her space until she was done.
"You back, huh?"
She turned in surprise and met the searching eyes of the other woman. Her mind dredged up the image of a figure in black leather and chains, a figure that almost fit the woman besides her. "Cat, right?"
"Then, not now. Kit, now. Kate, right?"
Never knowing names, never settling with one identity. It marked them all. Even when she forced herself to leave Kate behind, to stop this thing that could destroy her, Kate still lurked in the background waiting for a chance to emerge. She'd chosen wrong when she'd chosen Kate, she knew. Too close to herself. Too easy to fall into. You didn't choose a name that marked your real self. Somehow, it made it all too real.
Maybe, though, that was what she had been looking for. Something close. Something risky. She didn't understand it herself. Or she understood too well. The stories always shocked the public, the idea that people who protected them could sink into the deepest levels of hell to escape their work, their world. Yet not a single person within ever said a word about it.
"Get out of your fucking thoughts, girl."
She looked over at the other woman again.
"You waiting for me, or something?"
"Place is dead tonight. 'Least I recognize you."
She shrugged and gave herself one last look over. Looked like something the cat dragged in. Hell warmed over. Oh, well. It wasn't like anyone around here actually paid much attention to looks. All you had to do was fit in. She'd been around too often not to.
They walked from the dimness of the bathroom, down the hall covered with flaking paint, into the flickering light near the bar. The strobe light had been turned on while she was gone, turning the few on the dance floor into flickering frames from an old black and white movie, but it was emptier than before she'd left. Definitely odd.
"What in hell is going on tonight?" Her companion looked around with worry in her eyes. "It's like something's going down and no one wants to be around when the shit hits."
"Don't know. I'm usually out of the loop." To say the least. One of the dangers of keeping to the fringes, of course. Ending up in the middle of some crap everyone else already knows about.
"For christ's sake." She turned towards the bar. "Whatever you've got tonight. Two."
The guy poured some nasty looking concoction into two shot glasses and shoved them across the bar. Kit tossed down a couple of dollars and passed one over to her. "On me, of course."
She threw it back and felt the alcohol burning all the way down her throat. Around here, you didn't ask what they had, didn't request anything. You got what they had, and you better never ask question about what was in it. You probably didn't want to know.
"This damn joint's dead. You have any ideas?"
She looked over at Kit with suspicion in her eyes. Buying a drink, that was one thing. Actually striking up a conversation, that was another. You bought the drinks when you expected something, but didn't really talk. Loneliness was no excuse. Everyone was lonely.
"Not in particular."
"Know the place down by the docks?"
"Yeah, I know it." Idiot. Kit knew that she knew it. That had to be the place where she'd seen her before.
Whatever Kit was trying to say was interrupted by three sharp retorts. She hit the floor automatically, and after a moment of shock no one was far behind. A scream echoed in the background and suddenly she was overcome by a memory too close by .... a body laying on the ground, blood darkening the wooden floor ... she completely froze.
"Fuckin'a! Kate, get yourself moving!" Kit hauled her up from the floor. "They're going to be here in minutes, you idiot! You can get hauled in if you want to, but I'm not getting my ass questioned."
She blindly followed her to the back door, squeezing into the dirty alleyway. She'd come tonight to forget everything, not to remember. You can't remember, can't play with memories hanging around. She didn't need to get pulled in tonight. With her prints on file, half the fucking city would know about it by tomorrow. The media would love it. Another fallen.
The sirens began screaming in the background and Kit hauled her through a rotting door on the side of a dark building. Her foot slammed into a stair and she automatically began climbing, before the slightest bit of common sense took over.
"Where in the hell are we going?" She hissed.
"Where do you think, bitch? Somewhere safe. Unless you want that tight little ass hauled in and fucked with. Coppers would just love you, I think."
"My place, you satisfied? You can take off if you want. I was just trying to help."
Yeah, right. She wasn't stupid - she knew the rules around here. No one does something for nothing. Only one question ever popped up: Were you willing to pay the price?
She knew that she should turn around, take to the streets. But anyone on the streets nearby tonight had a chance of being picked up; the DC police hated the district and considered anyone fair game. Especially if whatever happened was bad enough ... another crime for the papers to bemoan and for people to scream about.
They wound their way up the dark stairs to the fifth floor landing. Somewhere a child was screaming and a tv blasted out some staticy late-night movie. Pretty typical.
Kit stopped in front of a door hanging crookedly in its frame. Light from the street at the end of the glinted off the numbers hanging loosely from their nails - half a four and a one still swung there.
"Home sweet home. Ain't it lovely?"
A couple dark pieces of cheap fabric hung from tacks on the walls, probably hiding the cracked and missing plaster. The single room had a bed with ragged blankets tucked away in one corner, and a couple pillows thrown around on the floor. A tv with a twisted antenna sat against one wall, a pile of grey pillows in front of it. She collapsed into the pillows, presuming they were meant to be chairs.
"Want a drink?" Kit reached under the bed and pulled out a couple bottles. "Or something a bit stronger?"
Kit set down a board with neatly packaged baggies of white powder and a couple syringes. She looked at it, suddenly longing for the oblivion that it could bring her. The ability to forget ... the scientific part of her brain knew the effects, knew what it could do for her.
Unfortunately, she knew that tomorrow would always come, the memories would always come back, and that she didn't need to be caught out by a damn drug test. Sure, she probably wouldn't get kicked out on her ass, and her supervisors would 'understand' the circumstances. Then never trust her again. Months of drug counseling with bastard psyches who would seek to 'understand' her mental state ... "No, thanks."
Kit shot up and leaned back with her eyes closed. She watched Kit for the couple of minutes it took her to prepare, then watched her muscles tighten as the drugs hit the system and left her sitting there as she poured out something to drink. Sure, the glass wasn't clean. But alcohol will kill anything.
"You're actually clean?"
"No drugs? Yeah."
"Bitch. Wish I could do that."
Kit flipped on the tv, and stared with disinterested eyes. She sat down nearby, watching the flickering images of some old black and white movie pass across the screen. The sirens still echoed in the background, muffled by their few-block distance, but clearly whatever shit had gone down was bad. Kids involved, or something. Else they'd be gone already.
She shifted and the floor creaked.
"So you wanna be gone?" Kit looked at her with her glittering eyes. "The door's there."
She continued to sit there, regarding her. She could leave, but she knew it won't be nice for her next time she attempted to return to any of the places this woman might hang at. "What do you want?"
"What do I want?" Kit asked with clearly faked surprise. "Ahhh.. the girl has a clue. What do you think?"
She looked over the room and wondered what she had to offer. Usually it was money, drugs, or sex. Didn't have any drugs, had enough money to get by.
"Not much, darlin' ..."
She looked up in confusion.
"Poor girl." Kit laughed sarcastically. "What do you think I was out for tonight?"
"Same as me, probably." She couldn't bring herself to say it. But the primitive side of her brain knew where this was leading, and she grew moist. She shifted slightly and Kit followed her movement with laughing eyes.
"To get laid, huh? Well, the night's still young ..."
"There's still time to go somewhere else? The cops are still around ..."
"You're not that dense."
Kit moved one of the pillows away from the bottom of the tv to expose a battered vcr. A couple tapes lay scattered around, and she selected one, then put it in. Static rolled across the screen for a couple minutes, and Kit cursed at it until the black screen straightened out. The screen remained dark for a few seconds more, until what was clearly a homemade video appeared on the screen.
Two women. One dressed in a leather top and tight pants, and the other only in her black underwear, her hands bound together behind her back. The second lay face down on the bed, her black hair spilling down her white back, and her ass stuck up in the air and already marked with red. The sound of the slap and the corresponding moan echoed airily out of the small speakers.
Kit licked her lips and leaned forward. "You like?"
She watched for a few seconds, watched the woman bring down her hand once again, and felt more dampness moisten her lace panties.
Kit scooted closer. "Of course we don't have to go that far, 'though I'd love to see that tight ass of yours sticking up for me." Kit grabbed her breast with one shaky hand and gave it a squeeze. "What do ya say?"
She sat still, absorbed by the scene on the television, and Kit laughed in victory. The hand Kit had used to grab her breast darted down between her legs and gave the mound there an aggressive rub. "Too much clothing, you know."
Kit ripped the tight lace top over Kate's head, barely giving her the time to lift her arms and allow it to slide off. The seams from the shoulders left red strips next to the straps of her bra and Kit ran her tongue across them. When she attempted to move, though, to get the straps out of the way, Kit slapped her hand. "No moving unless I tell you to move."
Kit seized both her hands in one of hers, then brought the handcuffs up from under a pillow with a rasping sound. Forcing her around, she securely fastened the metal upon one wrist, then the other. Just as the second cuff clicked shut, she licked at one of her earlobes and whispered "Your safe word is 'moon'."
Within seconds, she was laying on her back, her head propped on pillows and directed towards the television. The metal cuffs pulled at her skin and her shoulders complained about the uncomfortable position of her arms, but the pain sent shivers of anticipation through her while the moans and other sounds coming from the television made her squirm with impatience. Kit stood next to the bed, her eyes taking her in, running down the curves of her body.
"What an lovely prize I have here." Kit ran her fingers down from her face and pinched the nipple of one breast through the bra. "Not bad, not bad at all."
She pushed her breast up towards Kit's hand and moaned when she pulled it away. "A little too anxious, aren't we? I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about that ..."
Kit pushed her over, flipping her face into the pillows. She ran her fingers down her spine and then stopped to trace a circle on her lower back. "Why, what's this?" Her fingernail lightly traced it again. "How interesting."
She blushed as Kit's fingers continued to circle the tattoo on her back, and shivered as she bent to lick it with her tongue. Then she felt hands removing her underwear and arched her back to aid in the removal.
She jerked as the leather hit the sensitive skin on her ass. She didn't know where the riding crop had appeared from, but the next few minutes proved that Kit knew how to use it well. Pain shot through her each time it hit, but it was an exquisite pain a delicious pain. Pain and pleasure intermingled in an overwhelming force that flooded through her body and kept her from thinking about what she was doing.
The riding crop stopped for a moment, and she waited in suspense. When the lubed vibrator pierced her ass, she jerked a little. It had been a long time since anyone, male or female, had invaded her there, and her tightness revealed that lack. But Kit worked it carefully, and reached underneath to play with her clit to distract her from the slightly more intense pain.
She found herself moaning in delight. The underwires from her bra dug into her chest, but she barely noticed that discomfort. The vibrator teased her ass, as Kit's fingers teased her clit, rubbing and pinching in the perfect rhythm. She felt herself drowning in her pleasure, felt her sense of self melting away into mindlessness.
Suddenly, everything stopped. Kit pulled away, and she raised her head in disappointment. Her face was flushed, and her hair hung in humid strands around her face. Kit was sitting back on her heels, regarding her with a unfathomable stare. Next to her fully clothed body, Kate suddenly felt vulnerable and she shivered.
"I think you're enjoying your punishment too much." Kit rubbed the end of the crop across her palm and favored it with a smile.
Kit leaned forward and the handcuffs opened. "On the floor, on all fours, bitch."
She scrambled off the bed and faced Kit, her head barely level with the bed. Her wrists stung and she knew that she'd see red ringing them if she dared look. But she kept her eyes on Kit.
Kit quickly stripped and sat naked on the edge of the bed. She could see Kit's moist lips, glistening in the flickers from the television. The smell of it both attracted and disgusted her.
She crawled forward and brought her tongue up to lap at Kit. As she ran her tongue gently along the external lips, she could feel Kit attempt not to tense with pleasure. She nipped lightly at the inside of her thighs, then took the tip of her tongue and teased her clit. A suppressed moan echoed in Kit's chest and she became braver, plunging her tongue as far inside as it would go, in between sucking and lapping around her clit. The taste coated her tongue and the thick smell filled her nose.
Kit entangled her hands in her hair, pulling her head closer. Her nose rubbed in Kit's rough pubic hair, and she intensified her efforts. As Kit's hips began jerking forward in time with her tongue, she brought up two fingers and jammed them into Kit while her tongue continued to tease her. A short shriek ripped from Kit, and she completely lost control, ramming herself into Kate's face. She rode it out, using her tongue and fingers to bring Kit completely over the edge.
Kit collapsed backwards, and then stood up and brought the crop down across Kate's ass. "Fingers, huh? Getting bold."
She backed away, feeling the fear begin to bubble up once again.
"But I liked it. You deserve a reward. What would you like?"
She barely could believe that she was allowing her this decision. "Your tongue and your vibrator."
"Here." She pointed her to damp slit with her hand, barely containing her desire to pleasure herself.
"On the bed." Kit quickly cleaned the vibrator with the rubbing alcohol sitting on the night stand. She took one last glance down Kate's curves, drifting her hand across her breasts and down her side.
Kit brought her tongue to Kate's clit, gently teasing it. Once she began to relax and let the feelings of pleasure flow through her, the vibrator joined in. She could feel it deep inside her, rubbing and prodding her sensitive interior. The sensations of the tongue and the vibrator combined quickly brought her to the edge. She could feel herself becoming extraordinarily moist and hear herself moaning over the muted sounds from the television.
Kit gently brought her to the edge and brought her over. She could feel the waves of her orgasm rocking her body as she tightened her knees on Kit's head. Her body jerked out of her control and she felt the moisture flowing out of her. With a loud moan, she pushed her body backwards into the mattress.
She felt Kit crawl up next to her and take her into her arms. Kate kept her eyes closed. The soft breath caressing her neck lured her into sleep.
She awoke from her light sleep several hours later, immediately conscious of the woman whose warm body lay next to her. The room was silent; the television was dark. Even the sounds of urban life had faded into the blackness of deep night.
She turned her head, noting Kit's open eyes in the light from the street lamp outside. The woman stared towards the curtained window, ignoring Kate's soft movements. In the warm and comfortable dimness of the room, a dimness which hid the cracked walls and other evidence of the slum's neglect, she struggled to prevent the doubts about her actions that always colored the aftermath.
Guilt bubbled up, a guilt caused not by regret of her actions, but by knowledge of the possible consequences. Her secondary life belonged to herself, but her primary life belonged to the government. The upper levels, ruled by the Mormon Consortium, looked unfavorably upon heterosexual encounters outside of marriage. Her typical actions under this identity went far beyond that type of transgression.
Afterwards, she always regretted the games that aroused her. Her mind dwelled upon the humiliations she allowed herself to suffer, the submissive role she costumed herself with. But she knew that the woman in bed with her should not suffer any of the blame. Kit had played it safe, and she believed that the woman would have listened if she had spoken her safe word. You learned that only those that respected the rules made sure that you had an escape. There had been others that hadn't.
She touched Kit's arm, hoping the game had ended for tonight. That maybe, before the regrets overpowered her, she could try to understand ...
"What are you watching?"
"The street lamp outside the window."
The curtain dulled the sharp glare of the street lamp, softening its edges but not completely blocking its light. She could see how the light cast interesting shadows across the two of them, highlighting edges and deepening the appearance of hollows.
"It looks like the moon. You don't see the moon too often around here."
Looking back towards the window, she could glimpse the faintest resemblance to the moon. But only desperation should make the connection.
Kit shifted. "When I was a child, I used to sit on the front porch and watch the moon rise in the summer evenings. My father would smoke his pipe, and my mother always kept her hands busy with some project. But I would sit on the steps, listen to crickets, and watch the moon rise. I always obsessed about how bored I was."
She could remember nights, in the backyards of base housing, watching the moon appear over the trees while playing baseball or some other sport with her brothers. When full, its light would creep across the grass, giving each blade its own character. She always wanted an escape in those days.
"Why don't you go outside and take a look at it?"
"In the city? Are you crazy? First of all, you probably couldn't see it through the haze, and if an officer caught you staring into the sky, you would probably have some explaining to do. Or get hauled off to the loony bin."
That was true. Although she could remember the harvest moon hanging low over the road as she drove home one night several months ago, the city itself overpowered it. Buildings blocked it and lights dimmed it. Truthfully, even though she logically knew that several full moons had passed since the October harvest moon she remembered, she could not recall seeing any of them.
"I miss it sometimes. I associated such odd things with the moon when I was a kid. 'Course, I know exactly how stupid they were now, but they seemed so right at the time."
"What sort of things?"
"You know ... god, heaven ... all the stuff that church pounded into my head. Heaven was up there and the moon was up there. Of course, I am really too young to remember when they landed on the moon, which really took some of the mystery out of things, but kids can get the most stupid ideas about things despite all the facts against it."
"You ever feel guilty?"
Kit turned her head and glared at her. "Guilty? What do I have to feel guilty about?"
"Well ... this." Kate waved her hands around.
"Because of what? Church? I outgrew that bullshit a long time ago. I do what feels good, and what I want. I can do that and not answer to anyone or anything."
Kate took a deep breath. The simple answer. The one she had been telling herself for years. The one that never got her out of a single dose of guilt. Her stomach churned, and she turned away.
"I should go." She sat up and grabbed a ragged blanket to wrap around her shoulders.
"You don't have to go, you know. Not the safest idea, walking around here at this time of night."
"My car's only a few blocks away, near the bar."
"You going to be back out any night soon?"
"Only if I need to be."
Kit nodded, and turned back to watch the lamplight outside the window. She gathered up her clothing and stepped into the small bathroom to dress. Even after scrubbing her face, the shadows under her eyes looked too deep, like they were smeared with the dark makeup she had worn earlier.
She stepped out and looked at Kit. The woman hadn't moved.
"Get a move on, kid. Morning's coming soon."
When Dana Scully reached her apartment in the light of false dawn, her pager was dancing on the side table in her living room. Her answering machine was flashing five, and her cell phone was letting out an annoyed beep every couple of minutes.
She called Mulder.
"Scully, where in hell have you been for the past six hours?" he ranted, his voice filled with concern. "We've got a hot one here, and Skinner's pissed that we couldn't contact you."
"I went out for the evening. I needed some escape."
"So you left your cell phone and that dandy new pager of yours behind, I guess."
"Well, we need you down at the morgue as soon as possible."
"What's the situation?"
"A senator's son was shot at some gay nightclub, about seven hours ago. One of his friends jumped the shooter, and choked to death when his throat swelled shut. Apparently, he managed to scratch the guy and witnesses claim he was leaking caustic green blood. The place was a mess."
Realization stunned her for a moment.
"Scully, Scully, you still there?"
"Still here, Mulder. I'm on my way."
"I'll meet you there in about forty-five minutes, okay?"
She hung up the phone and examined her eyes in the bathroom mirror. They still looked irritated and angry, but were starting to return to normal.She must have been fairly far away.
She quickly changed into a suit, throwing her dirty and sweaty clothing into the far reaches of her closet. She'd have to find some time to run them through the wash and tuck them away later. As she left again and dashed across the street to reach her car, she glanced up into the sky. But even the light of false dawn had vanished, wiped out by a black sea of storm clouds. There was no moon.
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