Socks

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Chapter Three: The Great Moccasin Temptation
by Abree
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"How high do coral reefs grow?"

"How the hell should I know?"

Brian Pendrell sighed and settled back. "You don't eat enough," he remarked after a moment.

Krycek shifted uncomfortably. "You don't HAVE to use my stomach as a pillow, you know."

"Then what would I do? Lie in the sand?"

Alex sighed, not as irritated as he sounded. The situation would've been damn near perfect if it wasn't for the tennis ball of a bump on his forehead.

"How's your head?" Brian asked.

Alex reached up and rubbed the sore spot. "Feels like it slammed against a metal pole," he said after a moment.

"Ha ha ha," Brian said dryly, sitting up and looking around. The recently deceased ship was partially beached on the shore, although the high tide was trying desperately to suck it back in. Brian spied a limp arm hanging over the edge of one of the rails and cringed. A little voice in his head kept reminding him that these men were ruthless killers, killers who would have gladly offed Alex and him within a moment, but the sight of that gently dangling arm was hard to shake off.

The previous night, something had gone wrong. Alex mumbled something about the navigator making an error but refused to say anything further. The ship had gone smashing into the rocky coast of a smallish island in God knew where. The front of the boat and its occupants had been crushed immediately, and the resulting jolt uprooted the the railing Alex and Brian had been handcuffed around. The two were thrown onto a sandy patch of lowland, along with the railing, which struck Alex squarely on the head. A few hours of unconsciousness was enjoyed before the sun rose and the two men unwilling faced the reality of the situation.

As far as Brian could tell, they were both screwed. And not in the way he'd been imagining for the past few days.

Alex groaned again and sat up. He paused a moment and stood. Brian, who was still handcuffed to him, immediately fell over and got a mouthful of sand for his troubles. Alex gave into gravity's alluring pull and collapsed on top of him.

"Ya know, this handcuff deal is just not working out," Brian mumbled through the sand.

He heard a faint giggle. Alex rolled off of Brian and stared into the dense foliage behind them. "Hello?"

"Hello..." came a voice from the bushes. Brian spat in disgust and turned around to see who it was.

"Scully?" Alex and Brian both asked in unison.

The red-haired woman smiled and shook her head. "No. My name Martine. This form, however, I chose out of his mind." She nodded to Brian. "This is the form of your true love, is it not?"

Alex stared at Brian in disbelief. "Scully is your true love?"

"She's - I - It was only a crush!" Brian protested.

"According to your mind, she's your one and only true love, your eternal soulmate, if you will," Martine added helpfully.

Alex glared at Brian. "Your eternal soulmate? The woman who locked you in a closet because she believed you were against her? The - " Brian jabbed him with his elbow and nodded towards Martine.

Alex gaped and turned red. Martine had changed from a seductive Scully to a stern Skinner. Her voice matched his timbre perfectly. "According to your mind," she nodded to Alex, "this is as close to perfection as love gets."

It was Brian's turn to gape. "SKINNER?"

"What's wrong with Skinner?" Alex demanded.

"What's wrong with Scully?"

"Oh, yeah, when's the last time SHE'S had a healthy discussion about socks?"

"And how many pairs of white socks does SKINNER own?"

"Are you two through?" Martine asked.

They glanced at her. She now looked slim and blond. "Who are you now?" Alex asked, casting a sideways glance at Brian.

"Beverly Garland," she said easily. "Anyway, need some help with those handcuffs?"

Without waiting for an answer, she walked over and broke the lock with one twist. The cuffs fell to the sand. "I guess it's time for me to take you two to camp."

By this time, the two men had remembered the absurdity of the situation."How are you DOING all this?" Alex demanded.

Martine's face darkened. "I'll explain later, Alex. I really need you to come with me."

"How do you know my name?" Alex asked suspiciously.

Martine sighed. She perched herself precariously on a large flat stone and motioned them over.

They sat, fidgeting as irritating white sand got itself attached to most of their exposed skin. Martine paused for a moment.

"I am a creation of your government," she said after a moment. "I was created as one of twenty people who had been bred as hybrids with alien DNA. They had already tried this before - the ability to shift shape and form was already discovered. But when they discovered we had limited telepathic abilities as a result of their fiddling with DNA, they were going to have us all killed."

"The government created you?" Brian asked in disbelief. "But they - they would never - "

Alex gave Brian's hand a reassuring squeeze. "You've got a lot to learn."

"We managed to escape through sheer brute force. We decided to find ourselves a small place where they could never find us, so here we are." She stared at the two with undisguised interest. "And here you two are."

Brian smiled weakly. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Your presence here is - well, it just means that we'll need to be careful. Come on, I'll show you the way." She stood, brushing sand off of her dress and began to march purposefully towards through the foliage.

Brian and Alex stood, brushing off sand with low degrees of success. They followed her in a contemplative silence, absorbing her words.

Brian broke them out of the silence first. "Look," he said, pointing to Martine's feet. She was wearing thin, delicate tan moccasins that brushed away sand at each touch. Alex glanced down, gave an uneasy shrug, and continued walking.

Brian wasn't giving up so easily. "Hey, Martine? Did you make those?" he asked, pointing to the moccasins.

Martine glanced down and smiled. "Yes. It took me several years to make a pair that felt just right. Do you like them?"

"Definitely!" Brian exclaimed. Alex glanced down sullenly, half-wishing they were still on the boat. Brian and Martine continued walking forward, but Alex pulled her back.

"Temptress," he hissed in her ear.

She smirked. "Is it my fault the boy has a good eye?" She glanced down disdainfully at his black, sand-encrusted socks and caught up with Brian.

Alex growled and moved forward, walking between them and ungraciously nudging Martine out of his way. "So how far is it to camp?" he asked sweetly.

Martine glared at him. "It's only half a mile from the shore, in case we ever need to leave in an emergency."

"What do you consider an emergency?" Brian asked, craning his neck to see around Alex.

"Oh, right now's one of the biggest emergencies we've had," Martine said easily. "Undoubtedly, someone will search for your missing ship, find the island, and we'll all be at great risk of death."

Brian paused, his eyes sneaking a glance at her moccasins again. "You don't sound very upset."

"We're well-prepared," Martine said. "We're almost there."

She gave Brian's arm a yank and led him forward through the foliage. She pushed irritably at the overhanging plants and led him through.

Brian gaped as they walked into the clearing. "You call this a camp?"

The clearing was dotted with hundreds of trees, all bearing fruits or nuts. Well tended gardens served as dividers among the rows of trees, and about ten low adobe houses were scattered in between. Martine shrugged. "We have to eat, don't we?"

Worn paths weaved through the fields to the various houses. Martine marched up one, followed by an adoring Brian and a grimacing Alex. She walked inside of the house it led to, revealing a slightly bare interior and several piles of leaves that Alex supposed were their beds. Brian raised an eyebrow at the leaves and gave Alex a suggestive nudge. Alex relaxed a little. The little shape-shifting seductress might have some kick-ass footwear, but she didn't have the three-day history he and Brian shared...

Martine led out a man who looked vaguely like Stephen King. "This is Edward," she said. Alex snuck a glance at his feet and was relieved to see the man wearing hideous brown loafers. Alex shook his hand heartily.

Edward looked at the two men with concern. "Where were you headed when your boat crashed?" he asked.

"Russia," Alex said quickly. "Why?"

"And why were you going to Russia?"

"Oh." Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Just a little, ah, international, er, well - "

"Were you taken as a prisoners?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Alex finished weakly.

Edward shut his eyes in pain. "Then people will come looking for you."

"Most likely," Alex muttered.

Edward turned to Martine. "Then we must evacuate immediately."

"What?" Apparently Edward wasn't taking things as casually as she was. "But what are the odds they'd find - "

"We can't risk it," Edward said firmly. He pushed past Brian and ran outside, shouting for the others.

Martine slumped. "All right, so it's a bigger problem than I thought it would be."

Brian's eyes turned downcast. Alex half-wished he could cheer him up then and there, but there were more important things to do first. "Does that mean you'll have to leave?" Alex asked kindly.

"No!" Martine said. She sent her eyes downcast and sniffed, moving close to Brian and beginning to weep. "This is my home! I can't leave my home..."

Brian automatically wrapped his arms around her, genuine concern appearing on his face. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her hair.

Alex stifled another growl. Martine glanced at Alex but her face didn't change, the pain still evident on her face. Ah, good, not only was Brian being won over, but now he had guilt over upsetting the lives of 20 people trying to escape death by icepick. He sighed and walked over, putting his hand on Martine's shoulder. "Don't be sorry," he muttered. "This is all my fault."

Martine turned and threw her arms around Alex. She looked up at him with glittering eyes and her mouth twitched upwards in a devilish sneer.

"You - " Alex sputtered, pulling away. Martine's lower lip trembled and Brian enveloped her protectively. "Alex, come on. Show a little compassion."

Martine sniffed and pressed her face against Brian's chest. Alex stared at her with something akin to envy and stalked outside.

He bumped into Edward, who was walking in. "Edward!" he exclaimed. "When will you evacuate?"

"Immediately." Edward was grim. "Though we are well-prepared for evacuation, if we leave too late we will be discovered."

"What about us?" Brian asked, walking to the doorway with a still-weeping Martine.

"You are welcome to stay," Edward said somewhat harshly. "Preferably, until whoever wants you finds you and looks no further."

Brian looked taken aback. Edward took Martine by the arm and led her out. Martine sniffed but walked out willingly.

Brian watched as the two met up with the small line of people walking briskly towards the shore. Alex noticed his eyes following those accursed moccasins more than Martine herself.

"I feel so guilty," Brian said after a moment of silence.

"Me too," Alex murmured, not entirely untruthfully. He looked around the simple hut and the piles of leaves. "Edward was right, though. People will be looking for us."

Brian sighed. He walked over to the leaves and sat down, the thick piles of green providing a comfortable cushion. "So what did you do, anyway?"

Alex settled down next to him, resting his throbbing head on the leaves. "It's a long story."

Brian laid back and rested his head next to Alex's. "We've got plenty of time."

Alex paused and turned on his side, staring at Brian. "You know, we do."

Brian's eyes lit up. He reached over and began to trace lazy circles on Alex's stomach. "And we never finished that, ah, conversation last night on the boat."

Alex tilted his head slightly and licked his lips. "Bobby socks?"

"That's the one."

Brian smiled. Alex grinned in return. In a flash he forgot about the shipwreck, Martine, and her damned moccasins as he leaned in closer.

"Brian! Alex!"

Brian jumped, rolling away and breathing heavily as a thoroughly soaked Martine raced into the hut. She was doused in sea water, her dress molding against nearly every contour of her body. Brian gaped. "Martine! I thought you left!"

Martine took a step forward, sitting gingerly on the leaves directly between Alex and Brian. "I couldn't help it," she sighed. "We were leaving in the boats we came here in, but I jumped out and swam for shore. This is my home. If it means I die, at least I'll have died happy." Her face crumpled and she began to weep again.

"Oh, dear God," muttered Alex, sitting up. Martine sat cross-legged, her water-darkened moccasins primly on display. Brian glanced down, then at Alex.

Alex shrugged nonchalantly. "The more the merrier, I suppose."

Brian nodded and began to whisper words of comfort to Martine. Alex stood and walked outside, glancing around at the nearly deserted island.

He walked down the pathway to the edge of the foliage leading out to the beach, silent. After a moment he paused and sighed, helpless.

"And me a professional killer," he muttered to himself before beginning the walk back.

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