Socks

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Chapter Eight: Welcome To The Magic Kingdom!
by Abree
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"Speak louder," Edward hissed.

Alex Krycek groaned. He shifted slightly, adjusting the handcuff around his wrist. "I am a hostage of Edward R. Banks," he said loudly.

Edward poked him in the ribs with his rifle. "Now with more oomph," he ordered.

Alex groaned again. "Look Ed, CNN isn't going to care whether or not I speak with 'oomph.' Can you just record the soundbyte and let us go?"

"I said with more oomph, or Alice gets it!" Edward poked the smiling, motionless figure of Alice in Wonderland with his rifle and glared.

Alex rolled his eyes, faced the camera, and tried to look scared.

"I'm a hostage of Edward R. Banks!" he squeaked.

"Better," Ed said approvingly. He patted Alice on the head and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Alex howled after him. "Aren't you going to take these off?"

"Like hell!" Ed screamed back, walking deeper into the ride.

Alex sighed and glanced over at the small black and white television set Ed had set up. The sound was muted, but the caption was quite clear.

"HOSTAGE SITUATION AT DISNEYLAND."

Alex stared monotonously at the screen for a brief moment. His arm, handcuffed around the waist of the insanely smiling Alice figurine, went limp. He hugged the fiberglass girl helplessly.

"What the hell is WRONG with us?"

*****

Brian Pendrell was bored.

His feet had been handcuffed around an animatronic figure of a card painting roses. They had been like that for, oh, six hours. After two hours of screaming for help, one hour singing "99 Bottles of Beer On The Wall," an hour and a half of reciting lines from his favorite "Three's Company" episodes and fifteen minutes of singing songs from "Cats," Edward had handed him a dictionary to read and threatened to kill him if he didn't shut up.

Brian sighed and leafed through the dictionary again. "Exposition," he read. "The reiteration of past event - ah, screw it." He threw the dictionary across the room, where it smacked an animatronic figure of the Queen of Hearts. He sat back and thought morosely about everything that had happened since his and Alex's first real kiss...

*****

They had hauled Alex away to the temporary prison they set up in a storage closet, waiting for an official escort to the county jail. Brian watched with tearful eyes, the nerves in his lips still dancing ecstaticly.

Scully walked into the office, shaking her head at the spectacle. She laid a delicate hand on Brian's shoulder. "I'm so sorry he did this to you," she said softly.

*I WANTED him to do it to me!* Brian thought angrily. He shook off Scully and stalked out of the office in tears, pausing in the doorway.

"And where the hell is your DESK?" he spat, turning on his heel and heading back to the lab.

Scully turned scarlet and looked around at the cluttered, messy room. She nudged the rotting donuts with one three-inch heel and sighed.

Mulder poked his head in the room. "Hey," he said, spitting the husk of a sunflower seed onto the floor. "Who cleaned up?"

Scully felt the familiar weight of her gun against her hip and closed her eyes.

*They'd believe you if you claimed temporary insanity...*

*****

He had spent a lonely three hours more in the lab before Alex escaped for another visit. Scully had come in with a bag of green slime, obviously a joke to cheer him up, when the the familiar sight of Alex's neck came into view.

"Alex!" he wailed. The woman turned, startled, and Brian flushed and whimpered. Johnson DID have kind of a beefy neck...

He accepted the slime with a sigh and didn't notice Scully's eyes narrowing to slits as she left.

Brian slumped and gave another plaintive sigh. He tossed the slime into his trashcan and stared out the window without emotion. The slime mixed molecules with those of the trashcan and shimmered, two eyes popping out near the top and a long green tongue snaking out. It quietly walked out of the room on small blunt feet.

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the window pane. He thought with longing of the first brush of his fingertips against black cotton - the first brush of lips against skin - the first -

He suddenly became aware of a finger tapping the base of his neck urgently. He flipped around to see Alex facing the doorway, shaking nervously.

"Alex!" he exclaimed. Alex's still-shaking hand jabbed his cheek and he winced. "Alex? What are you - "

"Oh, I escaped," Alex murmured. "There's some, uh, creature outside speaking in Finnish and trying to lick everyone's shoes."

"Excuse me?" Brian quickly stilled Alex's hand and began to push him towards the door.

"It's - " There was a shriek from the hallway. "Never mind." Alex spun to face Brian, a strained smile on his face. "Can we just get out of here before someone notices I'm gone?"

Brian was already out of his lab coat and into his jacket. "With pleasure."

"I sure hope so," Alex muttered darkly as he headed for the door.

Brian flicked the light off and followed Alex into the hall. He ignored the familiar green trail of sludge that led down the hall towards the screams, and jogged after Alex with an involuntary grin.

*Please, God, give us twenty minutes alone. Ten, even. Just a few minutes alone...*

*****

"This is your apartment?"

Brian looked around. Dishes that hadn't been washed since his grocery trip - what, three, four days ago? - sat in the sink, tiny black flies feasting on the remains. His TV was still on, still tuned to the WB Network. Dirty socks were strewn on the couch and the duct tape left over from his abortive attempt to fix the coffee table rested on the slanted surface.

"Home sweet home."

"Nicer than the Kiev, at any rate."

Brian shrugged and sat down on the couch. "I don't know, the Kiev had a pretty good tape selection. I mean, they had some "Step By Step" episodes that I don't think I ever saw. And Marcia Clark is pretty good looking, I mean, even though she wore those business suits. And there really isn't anything WRONG with business suits, it's just - "

Alex ripped off a strip of duct tape and slapped it over Brian's mouth. After few muffled yells, he stopped babbling.

Alex slid onto the couch next to him, his arm snaking around Brian's shoulders. "You may have some excellent socks," he murmured, "but you have HORRIBLE taste in television..."

*****

"HEY!" Ed shrieked.

Brian jumped. Ed stalked over, waving his portable camcorder wildly. "Ready for your big television broadcast?"

"No," Brian said dully.

Ed busily set up the tripod. "I don't know why you're being so uncooperative," he complained in a conversational tone. "I could've held you hostage in 'It's A Small World.' "

"You could've just gone and told the FBI that you were displeased with how they handle Elvis sightings," Brian offered.

Ed shook his head. "They'd never listen! No, this will get their attention. One of their agents and a Commie spy! Makes for great publicity."

"Commie spy?" Brian asked in disbelief. "Where on earth did you get THAT from? Just because he's from Russia, speaks Russian, lost his arm in a mysterious accident, and is being chased by bald, monocle-wearing men doesn't mean he's..."

Brian trailed off and looked at the Queen of Hearts thoughtfully. "Uh-huh," Ed said dryly and adjusted the tripod.

There was a dull silence. "Hey, Alex!" Brian yelled suddenly. "You never told me you were a Commie!"

"You never asked!" Alex shouted back.

"What's THAT supposed to mean?"

"Do we HAVE to let politics interfere with our relationship?"

"YES!" Brian screamed.

"Then can we discuss this some other time?"

"Oh, all right," Brian yelled, dangerously close to pouting.

"Okay," Ed said, ignoring their conversation. "You get to tell the FBI my demands."

"Why don't YOU just demand it yourself?" Brian asked impatiently.

"What, and hog the spotlight?"

Brian rolled his eyes. "What should I say?"

"Whatever comes naturally."

"Excuse me?"

"I don't know, I've never demanded anything from the FBI before. You're the agent, make up something good. And we're on live video feed, so make it quick. The networks don't like anything that can't be chopped into a decent soundbyte."

Ed knelt and pressed the on button.

Brian suddenly became aware that millions of people must be watching him. He broke into a sweat and squeaked "I'm the hostage of Edward R. Banks!"

Ed gave him the thumbs up sign.

"Um, he has a list of demands against the FBI. He wants the following things or else he'll, uh, do something horrible to us or....something. Anyway, he wants..."

Ed waited expectantly.

*Aw, hell, you're a hostage at Disneyland and your significant other is a Commie. Go for the gusto.*

"...seven camels, eighty-three pounds of salt, a 40 foot extension cord, 30 crates of Star Wars action figures, and 20 tons of Hanes men's socks in blue and black."

"And gray!" Alex shouted.

"And gray," Brian added. He glanced at Ed's face, which had turned a mottled purple and had several ugly veins pushing up. "Oh, and $2.3 million dollars and a Ferrari," he said quickly.

Ed calmed a little. "And acknowledgement that Elvis is alive and well and living in Nantucket!"

Brian repeated the last demand and Ed turned off the video feed. "A little eccentric but all in all a good set of demands," Ed said pleasantly. He picked up his rifle and his video camera and strode further inside the ride.

"So you're going to let us out, right?" Brian called hopefully.

"Think again, G-man!" Ed wandered out of sight.

Brian groaned and sank back against the animatronic cards. For a moment, silence filled the still ride.

"Are you a PRACTICING Commie?" he yelled.

"Oh God...."

*****

Alex Krycek felt vaguely dirty after spending so much time attached to Alice, but he tried to ignore it. Between his awkward position, Brian's sudden interest in politics and Ed's lunacy, he was ready to snap.

He closed his eyes and thought back. He and Brian had certainly made a mess of themselves with that duct tape...but Scully interrupted them before anything more - exciting - could happen.

*****

"Yes, they WERE nice socks," Alex muttered. He peeled a strip of tape from his cheek, wincing.

Brian looked at him with concern. "But I don't think her socks are better than yours! Really! It was just a simple observation!"

"I know," Alex sighed. He pulled a thin strand of tape out of Brian's hair, tracing his jaw lightly. "We need to get out of here."

"Why?"

"There's too much distraction here. Mulder. Scully. Skinner. Talking trash cans."

"Pardon?"

"Never mind," Alex sighed. "I just want to go somewhere where no one knows who we are and we'll be left in peace."

Brian paused. "We can head down to the airport right now."

"Really?"

"Really."

Alex leaned forward and kissed Brian lightly. "Thank you," he murmured.

Brian didn't say a word. After a moment, Alex gently pulled away.

"Huh," Brian muttered. "Did you kinda get the impression of the word 'homecoming,' just then?"

Alex smiled and helped Brian to his feet.

"Actually, no."

*****

They had driven to the nearest airport in a flurry of peeling duct tape. There were only two flights with available seats leaving - one to London and one to California. Since neither of them particularly wanted to be that much closer to Russia, they opted for the California flight.

Thankfully, the flight was calm and uneventful. Alex had dozed, wispy dreams of cheap California motels sweeping in and out of his mind, while Brian cheerfully carried on a conversation with the blond woman next to him. Vague snippets of their conversation floated by Alex's ears, but the subject of smallpox was enough to send him back into the motel for another go-around.

The plane touched down gently, and Brian prodded Alex awake.

"Hey, Alex? We're here."

"Does here have motels?" Alex muttered sleepily.

"Actually, this nice woman Mar - "

"Martine?" Alex shrieked, jumping in his seat. He peered over to the seat next to Brian, which was empty.

"No, not Martine," Brian said reassuringly. "This woman had these hideous clunky black heels - anyway, she said she had to meet a connecting flight in Anaheim and offered to let us use her hotel room for the night until she got back..."

Alex stared at him, wondering if he was still dreaming. "Seriously? A hotel? With beds and a discreet maid service?"

Brian dangled a card key in front of his face. "The infamous Disneyland hotel, as a matter of fact."

"And this is all catch-free, with no obligations to this woman whatsoever?"

Brian nodded. "And it's only half an hour away."

Alex took the key slowly out of Brian's hand.

"And you're sure I'm awake?"

*****

It had taken a grand total of forty-eight minutes to send their plans down the rabbit hole and smack into the middle of Ed Banks' personal grievances with the FBI.

They took a shuttle over to the hotel with three other passengers. Two of them, a young couple, completely ignored everyone else. The other man, wearing a festive "Elvis Lives!" t-shirt, smiled winningly at Brian and Alex and lovingly patted the long, thin, brown-wrapped package on the seat next to him.

Brian and Alex gave wide, winning smiles back and slowly inched closer to the door.

They pulled up in front of the hotel about twenty minutes later. The couple opened the door and hopped out, while the smiling man moved in front of the door and quickly slid his polished rifle out of its brown paper casing.

"Do you guys like Disneyland?" he asked with a grin.

*****

One drive, a few hysterical minutes of running through crowds as "hostages" and one short caterpillar trip, and there they were. Ed had handcuffed them securely, told Disneyland security that they would both die painful, slow deaths if anyone so much as touched the outside of the ride, and set up a live video feed with several news stations. Then he took the time to get to know his two hostages, mainly by rooting through Brian's wallet and listening with interest to their socks-deprived bickering.

And six painful hours later, they were still there, bored, tired, and slightly resentful that Brian hadn't included a McDonald's order along with his "demands."

Truthfully, Brian thought Ed was probably harmless. Sure, there was the whole Elvis thing, but Brian himself knew how painfully irritating the FBI was when it came to kooky theories. Fortunately, Ed had asked that Mulder and Scully come down for negotiations per Brian's request. Hopefully they knew how to deal with Elvis cases...

Brian leaned back against the card. "Hey, Ed!"

"Yo!" Ed jogged back, that cheerful smile still planted on his face. "They brought by your Star Wars toys, by the way." He tossed seven of the plastic-enclosed toys in Brian's general direction.

Brian winced as the toys rained down on his head. "Never mind those. Have Mulder and Scully shown up yet?"

Ed laughed. "Those two idiots? They've been here for the past 3 hours."

"Where are they?" Brian demanded.

Ed shrugged. "Last I saw 'em, they had snuck inside the ride and were having some fun over near the White Rabbit's house."

Brian gaped. "So they've been here for three hours?"

"More or less." Ed hefted the rifle up. "Oh, and the FBI said it would take at least 4 more hours to get that massive a quantity of socks. Hope you guys don't mind."

"We can be patient!" Alex hollered from the other room.

"Oh, you can, but frankly I just want them to get off their high horses and admit Elvis lives." Ed aimed the rifle at one of the cards. He pulled the trigger and the animatronic head blew off. The remaining body sparked and caught fire.

"Oh, cripes," Ed muttered.

Brian sighed as the flames jumped from card to card. "Nice going, Ed. NOW will you let us go?"

"Where'll I have my hostage situation?" Ed whined as the wall behind the cards burst into flame.

"How about you let us go and hold Mulder and Scully hostage over in that Snow White ride," Brian suggested helpfully.

Ed narrowed his eyes. "What's so great about that ride?"

Brian shrugged. "Mechanical trees and holograms."

"Sold!" Ed pulled out his keyring as the fire ate its way down the wall towards Alex. He unlocked the handcuffs and sauntered over to Alex.

"What the hell did you DO?" Alex hissed as Ed walked jauntily by.

"Oh, the place is on fire." Ed checked his watch. "If you gentleman would excuse me, I've got to meet some people over at the White Rabbit's."

"Wait!" yelled Alex, standing and pulling furiously at the handcuffs. "Aren't you going to - "

The door leading out slammed solidly shut.

"Thanks," Alex muttered. After a few moments of futile yanking on his arm, he finally wrapped his arm around Alice's waist and heaved upward.

The figure lurched up with a pop. Brian stumbled into the room, dusted in ash and just barely escaping the leaping flames.

"Ready to go?" he wheezed.

Alex hefted Alice to a more comfortable position and nodded. "Yes. But if I don't get these handcuffs off soon, Alice here will be the cause of several unfortunate bludgeoning deaths."

"No complaints here."

The fire flared a bit and jumped onto the wall next to them. The warm spray of dry ash was enough to send them sprinting.

They raced the fire past various singing flowers, past the newly-deserted White Rabbit's house, up the rabbit hole and out into the glaring sunlight. They had just stepped out onto the outside track when they heard the sigh of the building's internal structure melt, bend, and begin to fold.

With a crackle flames, the entire attraction collapsed in on itself and died.

A combination of ash, dust, and vaporized fiberglass spread in a haze around the remains. Brian and Alex stepped back, sputtering.

A calm silence settled over the area. Alex glanced around. "Didn't Ed say the media was surrounding the place?"

"Oh, they're probably over at Snow White's about now."

Alex gave him a worried side-long glance, but didn't say anything. A few moments of blissful silence passed until the faint sounds of an engine stirred their minds and the thirty tons of debris floating around them.

The noise got louder. Through the haze, they could just barely make out a small plane making a swift descent and landing a short ways away.

The haze parted. A glaring ray of sunshine caught them both in the eye as it reflected off of a single circlet of glass.

"D - Doris?" Alex asked tentatively.

A similar glow radiated up from the approaching man's smooth forehead. He silently shook his head.

"Um...Boris?" Brian tried nervously.

"My name is not important," he said softly.

"Then what do you want?" Alex asked boldly.

The man paused just long enough to make them squirm.

"I want what you stole from me, Alex Krycek," he said, his voice betraying nothing. "I want my film."

Alex blanched. "The...film?"

"What film?" Brian hissed.

"The film I think I left back in Scully's closet," Alex muttered.

"You don't have it?" The man drew closer.

"Er, no?"

"Pity."

The barrels of two guns immediately poked the two in the back. The bald man with the monocle smiled and gestured toward the plane.

"Tell me," he said gently as the two were prodded forward. "Are you fans of Adam Sandler's movies?"

The wails could be heard all the way down to Snow White.

*****

EPILOGUE

"Did I ever tell you how, when I a kid, I dreamt that mechanical trees killed my sister?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, when I was a child, I had a very vivid dream where mechanical trees killed Samantha."

Scully gave her wrists a hard yank. The handcuffs dug into the tree but refused to come loose.

"Very vivid dream."

"I'm happy for you, Mulder."

He lapsed into a hurt pause. Scully sighed. "Mulder, do you think it's unhealthy that our relationship is entirely based on personal tragedy?"

Mulder shrugged, wincing as his shoulders dug into the tree. "Personal tragedy isn't enough for you?"

Scully closed her eyes. "Ed?" she called after a moment.

"What?"

"Do you need any help loading the rifle?"

****

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Negative One