The Good Ones
by Te
October 2000

For Hal's Little Black Dress challenge.


The mind under SID's care this time is... special.

Strafed and scarred, twisted and humped in on itself in so many places
that it became a great, slick knot. Sweaty mind, desperate mind. Fear so
old and settled that the mind no longer even recognizes it -- unless SID
amps it much, much farther than most human minds can stand.

This mind is his gift, and his assignment.

Sweet little chore -- chop the knot into quivering little shreds of rope,
rebuild it smoother, more ordered, and perhaps just that slightest bit
skewed. Just don't kill him. Which had chafed, at first, but he'd hadn't
had the mind yet.

Now that he does... oh, he could toy with this one forever. Destroy and
rebuild a million times until everything weak and unsure had crumbled
away to leave... what?

But he knew he had a limited time with the mind -- his pretty little
Fox, so strong! -- and so he moved a lot more quickly and efficiently than
he normally would have wished. Sent those last determinedly
unintegrated parts of his mind to tearing at themselves again so that he
would have the clarity to *work*.

Alex had left him with such a free hand -- surely he would stay away for
a good, long while?

SID mused on it, then carefully changed the -- literally -- faceless man
raping Samantha into the boy Fox Mulder, pounding into her like an animal
 -- but also crying, sobbing apologies but so *hard*, because it was so
tight, and so good, and her sweet little body just twisting, and writhing --
The little boy's cries changing to screams as the Fox who had been
helplessly watching is thrust within the tiny movie. Living it, and SID
teases the tendrils of the new memory into the weave he's making, and
jacks it firmly into the thick flood of guilt and need that produced this
Samantha in the first place.

Leaves it there and will not let Fox come. Samantha becomes Scully, his
mother, Skinner, and... Alex.

Yes, oh, yes and SID can't help watching *this*. Alex too thin, stubbled
and as desperate as sweet, sweet Fox. Another memory. And his leather
jacket used to tie his lean, muscled arms back, but Alex won't struggle.

Alex arches into every vicious thrust and curses and fights and laughs
and blows kisses and is as hard as rock and Fox... stops fighting the
little program. Adds more to it. Slaps, punches, ruthless stripping strokes
to Alex's cock and Alex is smiling up into it, taking it, loving it and
suddenly he grows a little heavier, a little more contained, one arm
instead of two, and he is begging for it.

Real. A true memory of Fox's!


That was supposed to be *his*! Alex. His savior, his captor, his bloody
fucking *employer* ass up and begging for *his* cock. Begging to make SID
real again, because SID has the minds of 200 of the truest lovers there
ever were, doesn't he? Love until death, and beyond in the clutch of
trophies both real and virtual.

Alex who plays excellent chess, and laughs heartily at selected memories
of SID's beautiful killers, who has given SID this sweet, sweet dirty
*thing* and SID rips the program apart with his teeth, swallowing Fox
down into his darkness. Gacy was still there. Gein and Grimes. G-g-goood
eats, little boy.

He will stay there. At least until SID can regain just a fucking *modicum*
of his control.

Who is this human god anyway, taunting him with beautifully dark minds,
hatred shaded as pragmatism, killers in soldier's clothing? So smart!
Wit and wisdom and hands soaked in blood. Dangled just out of SID's

Always leaving him for the *meat*, always killing him. Flash of Parker,
bent over him like a lover, so open and pained and triumphant...

Oh, and remembering death is always the most horrifying moment. The
most *shameful* moment, for who among them had faced death purely?

Once they found out that death was not, in fact, them?

No gods for them, only toys and taunts and teases.

No Parker for him, no Alex, but... this Fox would pay for having made
Alex beg. And maybe, just maybe, Alex himself would understand.