THE PRICE  

Feedback:  xalison@excite.com
Category:  L/B slash
Rating:  NC/17 for m/m relationship 
Disclaimer:  not mine, etc 
Archive:  Unusual suspects, Ephemeral, Gossamer:  anywhere
else just ask

Note:  This arose entirely out of a spoiler I saw for the new LG 
spinoff, to the effect that Byers' father worked for the Air 
Force and thought John was wasting his time.   My thanks to 
Surreal for her kind encouragement, without which this would 
never have seen the light of day.



John Byers stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, looking 
down the Mall towards the Washington Monument.  He was enjoying 
this brief opportunity to savour the brilliant spring afternoon 
and the sight of Washington at its best, even though he knew, as 
most of his fellow citizens milling around him did not, what lay 
behind the bright shining facade of his capital city.  And even 
though he could hardly spare the time, since his most recent 
research was reaching a critical stage and he had been reluctant 
to leave the HQ even for an hour.  But one of his contacts had 
sent an urgent email requesting a meeting on a matter of extreme 
importance, and he could not refuse.

"Punctual as always, Mr Byers  . ." said the voice in his ear, 
making him spin round and his eyes widen in surprise as he saw 
his unexpected visitor.  Not the voice he had expected, and he 
found himself looking into the face of C G B Spender, Cancer 
Man, and almost gagging at the stench of cigarette smoke that 
came off him. 

"Please forgive me for this little deception, Mr Byers, but I 
hardly thought you would stir from your bolthole to see *me*".

"What do you want" Byers got out.

"Just to deliver a message. Some instructions which you will 
follow if you are sensible"  and he walked to the edge of the 
platform, looking down the long park as if Byers had not been 
there or beneath his notice.  He got out a cigarette packet and 
made a show of lighting another, before turning to face Byers.

"You will cease and desist your prying into the Vernon case.  If 
you do not, the circumstances for yourself will be  . . . 
unfortunate."

"What do you mean?"

CSM drew on his cigarette and flicked ash carefully on the front 
of Byers' jacket.  "It would be regrettable, for example, for 
you personally, would it not, if your parents were to learn the 
true nature of your relationship with Mr Langly?  Your father 
for one would be extremely  . ..embarrassed?  And it's hardly 
the sort of thing a devoted son wants his mother to know about."

Byers could only stare dumbstruck at the loathsome face before 
him, while Cancer Man took another drag on his cigarette.  

"I will give you 24 hours Mr Byers.  Then you will give me your 
word that you will give up your little investigation. Otherwise 
copies of these photographs will be landing on the doormat of 
your parents' little retirement nest in the Blue Ridge 
Mountains."

CSM reached into his breast pocket and handed a photograph to 
Byers.  "You can see that although this picture might be quite 
innocuous, it could be interpreted otherwise."

Byers looked at the picture.  He recognised the background, it 
must have been taken not long ago when he and Langly had managed 
 a rare day out together.  They had always been careful to be 
discreet, but on this occasion, at a computer fair in Boston, 
they had snatched a precious hour in a local park.  Far from 
home, they had felt it was safe to be together in public for a 
short while.  The picture showed the pair of them, walking 
together, closely, with Langly's arm draped casually across 
Byers' shoulders.  Their faces were turned together in intimate 
conversation, and the expression on both their faces was of deep 
affection and closeness.  

"And I think this one provides conclusive evidence" continued 
Cancer Man, handing over the second photograph.  Byers looked at 
it and felt sick.  Later that same afternoon, they had found a 
secluded part of the park for a brief snatched embrace. The 
photo, taken with a telephoto lens, showed himself leaning back 
against a tree holding Langly in a close embrace, kissing hard 
mouth to mouth and pressing their bodies close together.

"24 hours Mr Byers"  and Cancer man exhaled a long breath of 
cigarette smoke in Byers' face, then  turned and walked away, 
leaving Byers staring at one of the most glorious views in the 
whole of America, oblivious to it and to the crowds of tourists 
jostling around him.


*******************************************************

He drove around Washington in a daze, hardly knowing where he 
was going.  Out in the suburbs somewhere he drew into the side 
of the road and stopped the car;  his hands were trembling.  
Bile rose in his throat, and he fumbled the car door open just 
in time to throw up in the gutter.  He shut his eyes and rested 
his head on the seat back, and stayed there a long time.

Late in the afternoon he drove back to HQ, still no closer to 
knowing what to do.  Thank God Langly was out:  he didn't think 
he could look him in the eye at the moment.  Frohike was bent 
over a pile of computer parts in the workroom and hardly noticed 
his return.   He flung himself back into his seat and turned on 
the computer, and tried to get back into what he had been doing. 
 But the computer screen blurred in front of him and all he 
could hear was Cancer Man's soft sneering tones.  "24 hours, Mr 
Byers."

Around dinner time Langly came back from whatever pursuits he 
had been following, bouncing in like a boisterous dog, flinging 
his jacket on one chair and his backpack on another, walking 
behind John and ruffling his hair, using Frohike's absence as an 
opportunity to place a quick nibbling kiss on the back of John's 
neck and breathe in his ear. Byers jumped and flinched away, 
snapping "For God's sake, Langly!"  Hating himself for the hurt 
expression in Langly's eyes, he mumbled an apology and turned 
back to the screen.  

Langly moved closer, leaning over his shoulder and nuzzling his 
ear.  "Bad day?"  John had to bite the inside of his cheek to 
stop himself yelling and pushing Langly away.  

"Yeah . . . sorry, I don't feel too good."

Langly's immediate concerned expression made John feel even more 
guilty.  "Hey, sorry . . ." and his gentle massaging hands on 
John's shoulders only brought a tide of misery washing through 
John.  He stumbled to his feet.  

"Look, I really don't feel like company . . . I'm going to bed."

"Don't you want any dinner?"

John shook his head, only concerned to get away now before 
Langly saw how close he was to breaking down.  "Just leave me 
alone, OK?" And he brushed past Langly resolutely not looking at 
him, and headed in the direction of the bathroom.  Might as well 
make Langly think it was just an upset stomach.  But when he got 
to the bathroom, he retched and retched until he thought he 
would tear apart.

Later that evening he heard Langly coming to bed, and hastily 
switched his bedroom light out so that Langly would think he was 
already asleep.  But the door softly opened and he knew Langly 
was looking in on him. "Johnny?"  very quietly, so as not to 
wake him had he been sleeping.  He heard the creak of the 
floorboards and knew Langly had crossed the room and was looking 
down on him.  Then there was the gentle touch of a hand on his 
hair, and it took all the resolution he possessed not to open 
his eyes.  

And then there was the click of his bedroom door, and he was 
alone again.

Morning brought clarity to the realisation which had gradually 
been forming since Cancer Man left him at the Memorial.  He had 
known from the start that he had only one option.  He could not 
give up Langly;  he could not betray his friends and the work 
they had put their lives into for the last ten years.  He could 
not let Cancer Man win.

The focus of his life for the last ten years had been the truth: 
 he now had to face the truth in his own life.

He had to go and see his parents.

As soon as he heard the others moving about he got up and got 
dressed, and went out to the work room.  Langly and Frohike were 
having breakfast and watching the early news: they looked round 
as he came in with expressions of concern.  "Hey buddy, how are 
you?"

"I'm fine.  Look - I need to talk to you.  Both of you."


At the first mention of Cancer Man he had their undivided 
attention, and when he came to the part about the picture, 
Langly drew in a sharp breath, moved forward and held him tight. 
 "Why didn't you tell me?"  

He rested his head against Langly's shoulder for a second.  "I 
had to work out what I was going to do."

"Isn't it my business too?"

"Not this part of it.  I know  what I've got to do.  I'm not 
letting that bastard win.  There's only one way round this.  
I've got to go and tell my parents, before Cancer Man gets to 
them. I don't want them to hear it from that bastard."

Langly looked into his eyes.  "Let me come with you."

"No. It's going to be bad enough.  It's best I go on my own. 
Besides, I need you to carry on here while I'm gone."

Frohike tactfully looked away as Langly drew him close into his 
arms and kissed him.  John gave himself up to the luxury of the 
embrace.  He already knew he was going to have to pay a high 
price for it.

*************************************************************

Later that morning he drove out through another glorious spring 
day, westward through the suburbs and out into the rolling 
Virginia countryside.  Westwards towards the mountains and the 
little country town in the foothills of the Appalachians where 
his parents had settled for their retirement.  

His stomach was churning with apprehension, and he would have 
given anything to turn round and run back to Washington.  But he 
had faced more danger than this in the past: why was it so 
difficult to face his father, who he had always idolised but 
never been able to please.  His father had never understood his 
decision to leave the FCC, never acknowledged or tried to 
understand what he did now.

How could he explain to his father how his relationship with 
Langly, so long just his close friend, had become a joy and a 
fulfilling necessity to him, not just the sex but also the 
security of having someone he utterly trusted in every way;  and 
that he could never give him up.

He parked under the trees a few steps from his parents' house, 
and saw with relief that his mother's car was missing.  Friday 
morning;  of course, she helped at a thrift shop in town.  
Probably better to face his father on his own.  

He walked round the corner of the house towards the back:  at 
this time of day his father was probably reading the paper on 
the back porch.  Yes: there he was, not reading but staring out 
at the garden.  He looked up at his son's footstep and got to 
his feet as John approached.

He met him with a face like stone, and before John could say a 
word he hit him hard and accurately in the mouth.

Totally shocked, John stumbled backwards and tripped over a 
garden chair.  Off balance, he fell heavily against the wall and 
ended up in a heap on the floor.  He looked groggily up to see 
his father standing over him, fists clenched.  

All his prepared speeches melted away at the first look at his 
father's face.  It was like he was ten years old again and had 
been caught the only time he ever played hookey.  There was a 
long silence.

Then his father turned away and picked something off the table, 
as John got to his feet.  "I suppose you've come to tell me 
about *this*. And he threw the photo, the second more intimate 
photo, at John.

John picked it up and looked at it. "I wanted to tell you 
myself."

"Oh yes?  And instead I have to get these pictures through the 
mail, of my son acting like a whore with some long haired hippy 
freak?  It's your friend, Langly, isn't it?  I suppose you're 
being blackmailed, or I can't imagine you'd have the gall to 
come and face me."

"I -"

"All these years I've kept quiet about the mess you've made of 
your life, about what you do, about your friends, however 
unsuitable I think they are. Even when it was obvious they were 
leading you into criminal activity, anti government, unpatriotic 
actions.  And now I find you've been rolling in the dirt with 
this pervert . . ."

"It's not like that . . ."

"Oh no?  And is he the only one?  How many are there?  How many 
have there been, John, that you've kept quiet about?

Something snapped inside John.  "You want to know how it 
started?  OK, I'll tell you how I got started.  The first time 
was when your friend, Joe Cooper, remember?? took me on one of 
his camping trips when I was *fourteen*?  You want to know what 
he did to me? And what he said he'd do if I tried to tell 
anyone?  And -"

What John was going to say next was cut off as his father lashed 
out again in a savage backhander across his cheek,  John crashed 
back against the wall again, and he felt blood trickle down his 
face as his father's ring cut him across the cheekbone.

"Why should I believe anything you say, you lying little shit?  
How do I know everything you've told me hasn't been a lie?"  

His father's voice went on and on, a tirade of abuse and anger, 
every word burning itself into John's memory.  He turned away.  
"Dad, I'm sorry -"

"I want you to go now John.  I want you to go now before your 
mother comes back.  You can leave it to me to think of something 
to tell her.  And I don't want to see you in this house ever 
again."

John looked at his father and knew there was nothing more to 
say.  He turned and left, but by the time he got to the car he 
could hardly see for tears.  


*************************************************


By 6 pm Langly was already fidgeting.  John hadn't called.  

"He should be back by now. He'd have called, if he was staying 
with his parents and everything was OK."

Frohike looked at him sympathetically. "I know.  It's early yet. 
 We'll give him till ten  pm.  Then we'll call Mulder."

Langly nodded, but his eyes went back to the clock.

It was twenty minutes short of the deadline when the door lock 
rattled and Byers walked back in.  Langly looked up, smiling in 
relief, but his expression turned to horror as he saw his 
friend's face. Byers' cheek was disfigured with a huge bruise 
and black eye, and his lip was swollen.  It looked as if someone 
had given him a bad beating.

"My God, what happened?"

Byers bit his lip, and winced as he touched the sensitive 
bruise.  

"My dad . . "

Langly swallowed hard to try to dispel the knot of rage that was 
forming in his throat.  "Your own father did this to you?"

Langly moved forward until he was facing John, and raised his 
hand to gently touch the livid bruise on his cheek.  His eyes 
were dark with anger.  

"God, John . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it, OK?  And Byers walked off 
towards his own room.  Langly made to follow, but was stopped by 
Frohike's hand on his arm.  

"Let it go for now, Langly.  He probably needs some time alone."

But Langly followed down the corridor to John's room, but paused 
outside and knocked.  "Is there anything I can get you?"

John opened the door.  He had taken off his jacket and shirt, 
and Langly saw with another stab of anger that his ribs were 
badly bruised.  "No thanks.  Look Langly . . . I just want to 
get some rest.  I'm tired, I couldn't sleep last night. And I 
hurt."

"But  . . ."

"I've dealt with it, OK?  What my father thinks doesn't matter 
any more.  It isn't going to change anything between you and me. 
 We'll talk about it in the morning."

Langly smiled and reached out again to touch John's face.  "OK. 
 But call if you need me?"

"Yeah.  See you in the morning."

*************************************************************

But in the morning Byers didn't seem to want to talk about it at 
all.  His demeanor was strange, of a sort of forced manic 
optimism, talking incessantly of this and that as if he was 
afraid to leave a vulnerable gap in the conversation.  He 
refused Langly's offer to tend to his injuries, and brushed off 
any attempts to discuss the details of his visit to his parents. 
 He insisted on getting straight back to work, saying merely 
that he had paid a high price for the information and he was 
going to get all he could.
  
By the evening Langly had made up his mind that he had to have 
it out with Byers.  A quiet word with Frohike, who was also 
obviously worried but had sensibly kept quiet, ensured Frohike's 
early departure on a ". . . night out.  See you tomorrow, boys" 
leaving them alone.  

Round about supper time, Langly made coffee and brought it back 
to the living room.  "John, we've got to talk about yesterday."

"There's really nothing to discuss, Langly.  I did what was for 
the best, and Cancer Man can't stop us going on digging.  I'm 
not going to let him stop us."

"But your father . . ."

". . .would have found out sooner or later.  Things haven't been 
right between us for a long time, Langly.  He's never been able 
to come to terms with what I do.  It was bound to happen sooner 
or later."

"So  . . . what did he say?"

Byers turned away and stared across the room.  There was a long 
silence, and when Byers answered his voice was just above a 
whisper.  His fists were clenched, and his shoulders tense and 
hunched as Langly had ever seen them.

"Filthy little faggot . . . pervert . . . sodomite . . . was 
about the best of it."

Langly moved across to stand behind him, and touched him on the 
shoulder.  He started to speak but Byers cut him off.  

"I've never been good enough for him . . anything I ever did, it 
was never good enough.  Christ, I tried so hard . . . God . . . 
I wanted to get right up and hit him back . . ."

And Byers pulled away and walked quickly off in the direction of 
the sleeping quarters.  Langly looked after him, then sighed and 
started to close operations down for the night.  He switched out 
the light, and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

**********************************************************

Langly turned as the bathroom door was pushed open behind him. 
John stood there, wearing only his bathrobe loose over his 
pyjama pants, his chest bare.  His face looked flushed and his 
eyes bright.  He came up behind Langly and slid an arm round his 
waist, breathing in Langly's ear.  "Come to bed."

"Are you sure?  Aren't you still sore?"

"No, I'm OK. Are you coming?"

And he tugged at Langly's shoulders to make him turn and face 
him, and kissed him hard on the mouth, pressing his body against 
him, one hand sliding down Langly's back and gripping his ass.  
"I need you, Langly.  I need you right now."

Langly was surprised. This wasn't John's usual behaviour, but he 
allowed Byers to drag him into the bedroom and acquiesced with 
rising excitement as his friend started to tear determinedly at 
his clothes.  "Easy, John, easy . . . but Byers seemed 
oblivious, pushing Langly towards the bed with a muttered "Come 
on", then pulling Langly down on the bed on top of him.

They rolled together on the bed, wriggling out of the rest of 
their clothes until they were naked together.  Byers pulled him 
closer still, sliding one hand down his body and squeezing his 
cock.  Langly yelped and thrust instinctively, pushing Byers on 
to his back and rolling on top of him, and they grappled 
together, hips thrusting, kissing and biting each other 
frantically.   Langly was astonished;  he had never seen Byers 
so wantonly demanding, and it was turning him on like never 
before.  He was already painfully hard.  He managed to gasp: 
"Going all feral on me John?"

"Just do it . . or do I have to go out and find someone else?"

Then Byers lunged forward and bit Langly hard on the ear.  
Langly gasped as he realised what Byers wanted.  This was a 
signal that he wanted it quick and hard and raw, and he 
immediately rolled over as Langly fumbled with the lube. Then 
Langly came down hard on his back, pushing his lube-covered 
fingers into him briefly before pulling them out and shoving 
back in roughly  with his cock. 

This was a brutal animal coupling, hard and fast and basic, 
punctuated only by Langly's grunts of effort as he thrust in 
savagely, and Byers' moans of anguished desire.  Then Byers came 
with a hoarse scream, shuddering and convulsing under Langly and 
setting him off also, plunging forward to fasten his teeth on 
the back of Byers' neck as he shot into him with one final 
fierce thrust.  They collapsed onto the bed together, gasping 
and clutching at each other.

When their breathing had slowed somewhat, Langly leaned forward 
and nuzzled John on the back of the neck.  "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah . . . God, I needed that."

"Mm . . . getting back at your Dad, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon John, I know you.  You were thinking all the time, what 
if your Dad could see you doing that."

"Yeah, I know.  It's just . . . .I was angry.  I thought, if I'm 
really half the things he called me - maybe I should act like 
it."

"Okay - but just with me, all right?"

Byers didn't answer and Langly continued after a moment.

"You've got to forget what he said, Johnny.  You're not 
responsible to him any more.  You can't live your life being 
what he wants you to be."

"I know."

Langly let out a long breath and turned his cheek against Byers' 
hair.  "Forget it.  Please, John?  I love you."  

"I know.  Langly . . . you know, Cancer Man never meant to give 
me that 24 hours.  I think he just wanted to cause trouble.  
Cause pain."

Byers turned to get comfortable in Langly's arms, settling his 
head against his friend's chest.  Nothing would induce him to 
tell Langly what his father had really said, especially the 
things he had said about Langly.

Langly put his arms round him, and eventually Byers slept, his 
weight gradually settling against his friend as he relaxed.  But 
Langly stayed awake, the faint light from the window shining in 
his open eyes, long into the night.


END