From: the Basement archive <feedback@nospam.populli.net>
Date: Mon, 27 May 2002 18:05:45 GMT
Subject: 0/7.NC-17.Crying of the Stones
Source: atxc

Title: Crying of the Stones (Slash)
Author: Ursula
Author Email:
Rating: NC-17
Category: Unclassified, Romance, Angst
Keywords/Pairings: Mulder/Skinner/Krycek sex/romance Scully/Jeff Spender
sex/romance
Crossover Info:
Spoilers: none

Summary: X-Files characters set at the time of the Warsaw Ghetto Rebellion.
Mulder, Krycek, Skinner, Scully, and Jeff Spender are Jewish Defenders of
the Ghetto.

Crying of the Stones (Slash)
by Ursula

Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary.

NOTES:

The Warsaw Ghetto uprising was a real event. I mean no dishonor to the
times. This is all I have to give. I will never be a professional
writer, but I have always wanted to tell part of this story.

Please forgive me if you think this is disrespectful to the dead. I
have wanted to write about the Warsaw Ghetto and the Jewish Resistance
since I first heard about it. As I approach all too near fifty years,
I realize that I will never have the venue that I hoped to have at one
point in my life. I still want to give what little talent I have to
the spirits of the dead.

I could have written this with original characters but the main
characters in this story are characters that I love deeply. I wanted
to write about the lives they may have lived in other times and other
places. In any event, I decided that I had to finish this.

Notes: The cast of characters:

Fox William Mulder plays Willem Mulder (known as the Ghetto Fox for
his role in the Jewish Fighting Organization). Willem was born of
wealthy and acculturated Jewish parents and was educated at Oxford. He
became a convert to the Jewish homeland movement and was trapped in
Poland while recruiting for the organization.

Alex Krycek plays Alec Krycek, a Jewish criminal of unknown parentage,
who was deported to a concentration camp after his "Jewish Mafia"
protector died. After he manages to escape, Serge Scheinerman protects
him. Later, he meets and is fascinated by Willem Mulder. Alec readily
smuggles people and things out of the Warsaw ghetto. He can escape the
ghetto, but not his love for Serge and Willem.

Walter Skinner plays Serge Scheinerman, once a prominent businessman,
a member of the Jewish Council, sometimes thought suspect by the
resistance because of this.

Dana Scully plays Danica Schuelke, a brilliant doctor who tends to the
resistance and to the ghetto orphans and old people. She adopts
Emilia, a mute orphan, found after an 'action', an operation in which
ghetto inhabitants were rounded up to be deported to the concentration
camps. She is in love with Jedrick Spindo, a righteous gentile, who
helps the Warsaw Jewish resistance.

Jeff Spender plays Jedrick Spindo, son of a vicious Nazi, who had ties
to organized crime. His mother, Cassandra, was incarcerated in a
mental hospital because of her belief in the supernatural and
obsession with ghosts. Later, Jedrick finds out that his mother had
been subjected to lethal injection with his father's permission. He
then becomes an active part of the resistance. He met Danica Schuelke
at the university and fell in love with her.

John Doggett plays Johan Doggett, Serge Scheinerman's best friend, a
former police officer until the Nuremberg laws forced him to work
briefly for the Jewish Council as a policeman.

CSM Spender plays Karl Spindo, Jedrick's father and Alec Krycek's
former employer.

Mulder and Scheinerman's fighters, besides Alec, Johan, Jedrick, and
Danica, are:

Rabbi Josek Wolfem is the oldest of the fighters at age fifty-five. He
was an orthodox Rabbi, but his family was rounded up and transported
when he was meeting with the resistance. Bitter, he took up the gun
and refuses to pray.

Michal Ben Leizor is Alec's special pet orphan whom he saved from the
concentration camp. Michal is only fourteen but a full-fledged Jewish
fighting man.

Mojzesz Meirtchak is a strong, former street cart vendor.

Avner Gutman is a twenty-year-old student who worships Mulder

Solomon Polack is another young student

Zalman Szneider is a twenty four-year-old former engineer.

Tyber Balaban is a thirty-year-old former teacher.

Uzner Nats is a thirty-nine year old former businessman, one of
Serge's oldest friends

Warnings: Slash and heterosexual pairings are both in this story. This
is an attempt at a serious slash story in homage to the brave men and
women of the Jewish Resistance.

Time Frame: World War Two, The Holocaust, the Warsaw Ghetto uprising

Thank you to Karen-Leigh, Skinnerbox,Ivyhedera, and Morgana Black for
beta work

I hope that anyone who reads this, who does not know the history of
resistance and the holocaust will read about it. There are many books
and web sites.

Last words: What happened during World War Two could happen again.
What happened in Nazi Germany could happen in other nations. The
spirits of the dead will never rest if they are forgotten.

The Crying of the Stones

The ten men and one woman that remained of Willem Mulder's branch of
the Jewish Fighting Organization froze as someone moved in the room
above their heads. Willem looked around the room and met the green
eyes of the Rat. Hardly anyone called the younger man by his proper
name anymore, if they ever had. As thin as Krycek was, those emerald
eyes burned in the sharp frames of his cheeks. He had been huddled in
on himself, ragged coat drawn tight around him, but at the first
sound, he silently shoved aside the solid looking bookcase that
concealed the bolthole, leading to the bunker below. The bunker
connected to the sewers, which for the courageous and lucky could lead
outside the ghetto to freedom. Like his namesake, Krycek was never far
from the nearest escape. Of all of the men in the room, Alec seemed
the most likely to survive.

As the pattern of knocks became clearly their code, everyone relaxed
except Krycek. He remained poised with his hand on the case.

The big man who entered was gaunt. It was hard to remember that he'd
had most of his hair before Poland was invaded. Avner spat on the
floor in disgust when he saw who it was. His muttered, "Collaborator,"
was the only overt reaction, but Mulder could tell that several others
felt just as strongly.

Serge Scheinerman ignored the reaction. He had chosen his role and he
refused to let himself be hurt by fools who couldn't see how important
it was to have an inside man. Serge's posture said that it wasn't good
news.

"I saw the orders just now," he announced. "It's definite. Everyone is
to be transported to the camps. The ghetto will be no more."

There was a horror struck murmur, although they'd all known that this
would happen. Drawing a deep breath, Mulder, known as the Fox for his
role in the ghetto resistance, nodded. He looked at his men and at
Danica Schuelke with soft eyes. Each and every one of them from
fourteen-year-old Michal to Serge was a hero. Even Krycek played his
role.

"Go to your families and prepare them. Those of you who still have
children must risk the sewers for them now. Danica, they will take the
sick first. You must go to them and..." Mulder could not finish, but
he looked resentfully at Krycek whose idea the horrible thought was.

Coming forward, Krycek held a small bag. He said, "Strychnine, enough
for thirty or forty in the proper dosage."

"Where did you get this? What did you trade for it?" Danica demanded
suspiciously.

"What do you think?" Alec said, "The diamonds will not last forever so
I saved them. I found someone who wanted something another man might
not want."

Danica's face flamed as Krycek's soft laughter whipsawed through the
room. Willem saw the looks of disgust on the faces of the other men,
but Serge only briefly looked at Alec and shook his head.

Danica took the poison and said, "I won't make anyone take it. What
about Emilia? Can you get her out?"

A shrug answered. He said, "A mute child? I don't know. What can you
give me to buy her a place?"

The redheaded beauty touched her throat. She took off a small golden
necklace with a tiny diamond pendent. She unclasped it and handed it
to the Rat and said, "It is all I have. Take her tonight, please."

Danica's head was held high and her back remained straight, but every
man in the room heard the faint sob that betrayed that strong-hearted
woman.

Mulder said, "Go now. Go and get ready. For those of you who wish to
take your chances now and get out, I will not blame you. For the rest,
well, I will see you in the morning."

After the room was emptied, Mulder blocked Alec from leaving. The man
made him so furious. He slammed him against the wall, his forearm
pressed to the beautiful throat. "You whore!"

Scarlet blobs of color appeared on the high cheekbones and the man met
his gaze with wet green depths.

"I told you no more of that. No more. Our honor..."

"What is honor? Can you eat it? Can you shoot it from a gun? I have no
honor and you... you may have as much as you please. I do what you
can't do, Mulder. That's why you hate me..." Krycek said.

A sudden thrust of the arms broke Mulder's grip. Krycek ducked forward
as he slipped away and grabbed Mulder by twin handfuls of hair,
forcing a kiss onto his lips. As Mulder stood stunned, Krycek slipped
away out the bolthole before he could find any words to say.

Serge caught Mulder in a strong grip and Mulder rested his head
against his still substantial muscle. Stroking back Mulder's dark
brown hair, Serge whispered, "Why don't you just tell him that you
want him?"

"I can't. Every time we talk, he infuriates me. We end up fighting. I
don't even know if he hates me or if he cares for me," Mulder said.
"Perhaps he thinks I took you away?"

"No, my fox, that's not it. I see how he looks at you. That kiss...was
not a kiss of friendship," Serge said. "Ever since he first saw you,
I've known what he wanted. Alec is usually more direct than this."

"We're crazy and greedy to want two lovers," Mulder teased as he
played with Serge's tie. It was a threadbare garment now, worn and
ragged at the ends, but like the suit the once prosperous businessman
wore, it was a symbol of his old life.

"A man on the verge of dying wants to know what it is to live," Serge
said, "I'm greedy yes, but I adore you both. My dream is to lie down
with both of you and make love until not one of us can move."

A hunger pang hit Mulder's stomach and he grimly acknowledged, "That
would not take much these days."

Serge reached into his pocket and said, "He left this with me for you.
I've already had my share. Eat it, Mulder. If you are to lead us, you
must have strength to fight."

The morsel of goat's cheese was grimy and no bigger than his thumb,
but it had been ages since such a luxury had come his way. With
trembling hand, Mulder raised the sliver of food to his mouth and
nibbled. Even as slowly as he ate to make sure his shrunken stomach
would not reject the treasure, it was gone too soon.

Serge said, "Tomorrow, he said he would have a bag of turnips and
another of potatoes for soup so we will die with full stomachs."

"Or live. I want them to see that they are not the gods they say they
are. That they can die too. We will hold out long enough to cover the
escape of as many as possible. I don't want to die, my love, but we
must fight."

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

The poison felt as if it weighed a million pounds in Danica's pocket.
What had the world come to that the best she could offer the sick was
a chance to die in peace in the beds of the infirmary? Yet it was a
choice she knew that many of the sick would appreciate the chance to
make. Better to take the poison than to be stacked like so many logs
in a Nazi truck or dragged by the hair to be shot in the streets.

"Danica," someone hissed.

It was Krycek, the Rat. Danica frowned at him. He offended her with
his criminal past, his profiteering, and his willingness to use even
his own body as the coin to pay for survival. It had been difficult
enough to accept that Mulder, a man whom she at first had seen as her
soul mate, a man she could accept as a lover and a leader, could not
feel the same way about her. However, Danica had known Serge
Scheinerman all of her life. She knew he was a good man. After the
initial shock had passed, she had been honored that they trusted her
with their secret. They were not the first men she had ever met that
loved other men. Although she found strength in her faith, she was not
a person who felt they should judge others for not believing in the
same way.

Krycek though...

The man was pretty, so pretty that he distracted Mulder from his
heroic mission. Danica was sure that he cared nothing for Mulder or
for Serge. He was trouble, that one, born trouble!

"What now?" she snapped. "Haven't you brought enough sorrow for one
evening?"

"He wants to see you. He's waiting at the house outside the ghetto.
Wants to be with you. I'll take Emilia to the farmer's tonight and you
stay with Jedrick."

Danica blushed, but she knew that she could not resist although it
infuriated her that Krycek would know that she was spending the night
with her lover. Still, she needed comfort, needed to be with someone
who could make her forget the morning.

Nodding, Danica said, "Come with me and we'll get Emilia ready."

The little girl was playing with her doll on the bed that she shared
with Danica. Her face was as pale as snow and her red hair was like
strawberries in their first blush. Mrs. Poznanski smiled in greeting
and said, "She's such a good, quiet child." The widow blushed as she
realized what she said about the mute child. She said, "Well, you know
what I meant."

Mrs. Poznanski smoothed her clean black dress, unwrinkled despite the
lack of fuel to heat an iron in this place. People said that she only
had one that she wore in public and carefully laid it between her
mattress and a board when in her apartment. Schuelke didn't know if
this was true, but she liked the widow, admired her insistence on
cleanliness, her unswerving faith, and her strength of will. She was
one of the few in the fifty-year age range to survive the actions so
far.

"There is a rumor that the next action is for everyone," Mrs.
Poznanski said, her eyes going to Krycek who always knew such things
long before even the Jewish Committee that served as a liaison with
the Nazis.

"It is no rumor, mother, go to a bunker if you know of one, hide until
they smoke you out, and die with a stone in your hand when they find
you. One of your age will never be chosen for the correct side when
they run you naked in front of the guards to pick those for the slow
death of work rather than quick death of the showers," Krycek replied.

"You terrible man!" Mrs. Poznanski cried. She ran from the room, the
broken heels of her shoes making an odd slapping sound.

"That wasn't necessary," Schuelke said, ice in her tone.

"It's the truth; I only lie when there's a profit in it," Krycek said,
"I've been there and lived to tell it. That is why I traded myself for
the poison. When you cannot choose to live, at least, you should be
able to choose how you die."

Danica sat down on the bed and combed her fingers through Emilia's
hair. "My treasure," she said. She would not cry and upset the girl
who had been her daughter since she had found her wandering the
streets after an action. She had named her Emilia after her favorite
cousin and brought her home rather than put her with the other
orphans. No one seemed to know her, which was not a surprise when
whole neighborhoods were loaded on trucks and rumbled away to
disappear in smoke. Danica didn't even know whether Emilia was mute
from birth or whether she spoke no more because she could not voice
the horrors she had seen.

"Emilia, I am going to have Krycek take you for a vacation on a farm.
You will be a milkmaid and have plump pink cheeks again," Danica said
with a brightness she hardly felt.

Her heart's daughter shook her head, no, and pressed her small head
against Danica's breast, holding on with such incredible strength for
one small life.

"It will only be for a little while," Danica said.

"My lady," Krycek said, bringing forward three brightly colored balls.
"I am your knight and I will take you to your castle."

The ghetto rat began to juggle the balls, clever hands moving faster
and faster until they blurred. Emilia could not help but look at him
with fascination. He ended with a graceful bow and then produced a
piece of candy. He offered this to Emilia who took it and put it in
her mouth happily. She smiled as the sweetness hit her taste buds.
Moments later, she yawned and leaned sleepily against Danica. She felt
limp and heavy. For one moment, Danica thought Krycek had killed her.
She scratched his cheek and would have clawed his eyes, but he held
her back.

"A little laudanum only," Krycek explained. "That's how I always take
them out. The sewers are frightening even for adults. Children will
cry out and your Emilia does cry even if she does not speak. I know
what I am doing, Schuelke."

Checking the child, she did seem to be breathing deeply and slowly,
but really not too much different from normal sleep. Meeting the
amused eyes of the Rat, Danica slowly lowered her own, ashamed of her
suspicions.

Over and over, Mulder reminded them that the past was gone. They were
all equal under the Nazi terror machine. She was no longer the child
of the famous Jewish war hero, first in her class, so brilliant that
they spared one of the rare university medical slots for her. Mulder
was no longer the doctor of philosophy, raised in such wealth and
privilege that he had never heard the word Jew spat in contempt until
he had set foot in Warsaw. Which meant that Krycek, bastard child of
some Jewish peasant girl, orphaned on the streets at a young age,
former up and coming star in the Jewish crime organization that
rivaled Italy's Mafia was also no longer to be held in contempt. Well,
some things were easier said than done.

Sensible people never traveled on the streets these days, they crept
over roofs, perhaps scurried in the shadows of an alley, but mostly
they used the tunnels that increasingly connected beneath the ghetto.
This was how Krycek took them beneath the ghetto until they reached a
church, which adjoined both sides of the wall. The stone panel beneath
the altar moved and they crawled out, carefully carrying Emilia.

Jedrick waited for them, head bowed in apparent prayer. To Danica's
surprise, when her lover stood up, he quickly embraced Krycek, kissing
him warmly on each cheek. "Thank you for bringing her safe to me. May
God watch over you, my friend."

Looking around, Jedrick said, "I was able to buy two more guns, more
bullets, and something special for you, my friend."

"You found some?" Alec asked, his face lighting like a boy's.

"Not much and they are old, but yes, I found some for you," Jedrick
said proudly.

"Dynamite caps," Krycek said with a grin, quickly hugging his friend.

"Boys and their toys," Danica said with affection toward her lover.
She allowed him to gather her up for a moment before turning back to
Emilia. She checked her daughter, brushing back the light auburn curls
from the damp forehead. She kissed the pale cheek and hugged the too
frail body. "Will they love her as I do?"

"Danica, there's no one who could love her as you do, but she'll be
fine. He's a kind man. He only needs the money because, after all, he
struggles to feed his own children now. Don't worry. He will protect
her. He's not like some of the others. A child is a child to him and a
man is a man," Krycek said, bundling the child back into the turnip
sack. He slung it carefully over his back and walked away as a sob
tore from Danica's throat.

Jedrick gathered her up; holding her to his tall, lean form tenderly.
Now, allowing herself to weep a little, Danica said, "He's taking her
now. Taking Emilia."

"I'm sorry for you, but it will be good to know she is safe and
getting enough to eat," Jedrick said. He hugged her tightly and said,
"When the war is over, we will go and get her, legally adopt her, and
then we will make her a little brother or sister."

"Yes," Danica said, closing her eyes as she imagined the life they had
thought they would lead, practicing medicine together, married, and
when they were secure, she had thought she would take a break to have
a baby, one with Jedrick's curly hair and her blue eyes. She had
imagined her parents as wonderful grandparents that would make up to
the children for the lack of the other side. Even in her wildest
dreams, she couldn't imagine that Karl Spindo would ever accept her as
a human much less a daughter-in-law.

(Continued in part 2)

Crying of the Stones (Slash)
by Ursula

Part 2
See part 0 for header information.


CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Jedrick's house was not far from the cemetery. He had moved from his
father's house and refused to speak to him after he found that Karl
Spindo had signed an agreement for his mother, Cassandra, long
hospitalized for mental illness, to receive the final solution.
Jedrick said his father's cruelty, his infidelity, and his tacit
consent to her abuse of alcohol and nerve pills had driven her insane.

Jedrick had found moral courage and the ability to act upon it after
he had learned what happened to his mother. His eyes had been opened
and now he believed that the horror stories he had dismissed as
fiction were real. He was a righteous gentile.

Right now, Danica didn't care about his righteousness. She cared about
his tender lips, his hands that knew her, as she had allowed no other.
She took one of his hands now. He brought her fingers to his lips and
then they walked out the door, holding on tight like two children
facing a fearsome storm. Catching her in his arms, Jedrick carried her
across the threshold of his house.

It was one of those long, narrow houses, wedged between two others.
His bedroom was one on the second floor and they went directly there.
Naked by the time they reached the bathroom, Danica felt a sting of
guilt, thinking that no one in the ghetto had had more than an
occasional sponge bath from a pan heated upon the stove.

Jedrick ran the water as Danica brought down clean towels, burying her
face in the clean smell. All of the rags she used in the infirmary
smelled of the harsh bleach, precious bleach with which they fought
the multitude of illnesses that drained them of life, but she longed
for this clean sunny smell, free of the stench of sickness and
despair. Her clothing, sturdy, dark things embarrassed her; ill fitted
to her no longer voluptuous body.

Everything about her had shrunk, even her breasts as her body consumed
the stored fat. Jedrick didn't seem to notice. His kiss flitted across
her throat, a quick moist sip over the pulse of her throat. Danica
shuddered as his tongue curled around each of her nipples in turn. She
arched back, hands braced on his shoulders, fingers clenching. She was
alive, a woman. He made her feel hope and forget to think and dread
for the few hours they were able to spend together.

However, before he could delve lower, she stopped him and said, "Bath
first. I stink."

Jedrick smirked and shook his head, but they stepped into the tub,
sinking down into bath oil scented water. Jedrick's expressive hands
roamed over her, easing her tension at the same time as he coaxed her
to passion. She thought he had the loveliest eyes she had ever seen.
Running her hands over the tight curls on his head, Danica sighed and
said, "I wish we had met in another world."

"Here, this is our world," Jedrick said. "You are my delight, my
sustenance."

As his fingers teased at the curls between her legs, she felt the hard
length of him nestled against her thin buttocks. He said, "When this
is all over, we will marry. I'm already studying to convert. We'll be
like Adam and Eve, repopulating the world with Jews. We'll adopt a
house full of orphans and live in the Holy Land. I will be a writer
and stay home to care for them. You will be the finest doctor in
Palestine and people will all say how I am not good enough for you."

Leaning back, Danica felt safe for the moment. She said, "You are good
enough for anyone, Jedrick. I don't know how you ever could be the son
of that monster of a father, but you are the best man I know."

Feeling a stab of guilt, Danica thought about Mulder. He too was a
very good man, but Jedrick was no handful of air and fire. He was
solidly grounded to Earth, not one to fly off at the slightest hint of
a cause. His courage was that of a man who was not born to be a
soldier or a revolutionary, but whose intellect weighed right and
wrong in a reasoned way. She knew that not even his father could
protect him if Jedrick was ever found out, but nonetheless, her
lover's courage had not failed.

Standing now, they dried each other as lovers do. Danica's hands
trembled as she felt Jedrick's erection pulse when she touched it. She
stroked it, loving his response, the power in his narrow hips. "You're
beautiful, Jedrick," she said.

Jedrick laughed and said, "Oh, Danica, have you had your eyes checked.
"

Still Danica could see that Jedrick was pleased. He had told her
little bits of his life...his mother's delusion-spurred quest after
the supernatural, dragging him along from spiritualist to spiritualist
as she looked for her past lives, forgetting the one she was currently
wasting. How his father had been indifferently cruel, little caring of
anything as long as Cassandra maintained appearances. In the end, how
his mother had refused to comply with the Nuremberg laws. Her
disregard of Hitler's edicts had caused his father to first declare
her mad and then, like so many others, she was quietly put to death as
defective.

Jedrick had told her that his mother lived in fantasy, but despite
that Jedrick knew his mother had loved him. Jedrick had returned that
love with all the loyalty in his soul. He would never forgive his
father nor would he forgive the government that condemned her.
Although Danica never had met Cassandra Spindo, she felt she knew her
by her son. There was little of Karl Spindo in this man that she
loved.

Jedrick held out his hand and led her to his bed. For tonight, there
was respite from the cruelty of their underground war.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Alec neither looked for, nor gave, respite. For him, there was
passion, Serge's strong hands playing his body like a guitar, making
music with him. There had been rough kisses and the play of men's
bodies with his. None of them had meant anything to him except Serge.
The formerly well-to-do businessman had just been a mark to him,
someone to offer his body and to con. Someone was going to lo se that
night, but Alec had fought hard before giving up and realizing that
the name for what he felt was love.

Before the war, Serge used to talk about "going away". "Go to America"
where it might be possible to live together in a place called New
York...where people might not notice two men in love. Alec would
listen and caress his Serge's bald head and pretend that the plan
might actually happen.

Alec had known instinctively that it wouldn't happen. Happy endings
weren't for him. He was born in the gutter and he would die in the
gutter. Meanwhile, he was going to grab what he could.

The first time he saw Willem Mulder, Alec knew he wanted him. Alec had
crept into a corner of the meeting hall with his mind on the donations
weighing down the pockets of the Jews who came to hear about Zion. He
thought he would pick a few donations of his own. Instead, he
listened, open mouthed to the words, which painted dreams on the
canvas of that dark lecture hall. He couldn't take his mind off Willem
Mulder. It was not only that he was beautiful. Alec craved the fire,
knowing it would burn him.

It amused Alec to have men, solid community members, drool over him.
It gave him a sense of power and ammunition in case he needed it. He
had hated it when his boss had told him to do it, but after a while,
he grew used to being the hook and the prize for the men that Wallach
had been courting.

When Alec was sent to Serge, he'd expected no more than he'd gotten
from the others, but Serge had been different. He had taken his time,
coaxed a reaction from Alec, a reaction that embarrassed him and that
he resented even while craving to feel it again. For a long time, Alec
passed his feelings off, as simply that Serge was a good lay. He
didn't believe in love. His mother had loved him, but he had been her
weakness. Alec knew the reason she had been out the night she had been
killed was to put food in his mouth. He never wanted to be so foolish.
Love was like a sickness that made you weak. He didn't want to love
anyone. He never wanted to be loved. If he had known how contagious
the emotion could be, he would never have let anyone get close enough.

After his so-called protector, Wallach, the former Ghetto Boss, was
hauled away in the first sweep of the ghetto, Alec had been deported
as well, but he had managed to escape. Returning to the ghetto, Alec
had been left vulnerable. The Council set some enforcers on him,
leaving him for dead. Alec woke up in the charity ward and he would
have died there except that Serge took him home.

The man had nursed him tenderly and Alec had no choice but to accept
Serge's attentions. Naturally, Alec wanted to repay him, but that
didn't seem to make it easier. The more he slept with Serge, the more
the man wanted to have him stay, the more he babbled about how much he
loved him.

Then Willem Mulder arrived. Ridiculous man, so intelligent, but he was
a dreamer. He was a man who needed a worldly man to protect him from
his own folly and Alec had a fever in his bones to be that person.

Seduction was instinct for Alec. He had never failed to seduce a man
he was told to seduce...no matter how they claimed to be lovers only
of women. They might be angry afterwards, but they took what was
offered first.  Willem was his first failure. Alec could tell from the
burning looks cast in his direction that the man wanted him, but he
could not get Mulder to take what he offered.

If Alec had been less distracted, he would have fled the country. He
knew how to find money. He knew to how to ghost his way across
borders, but he kept thinking Serge and Willem would agree that they
couldn't fight the Nazi's from a ghetto prison. No such luck. Serge
had his responsibilities and Willem thought he could work with one of
his American friends at the embassy to get some of the children out at
least. And the trap shut around them.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Emilia woke as they approached the farm. Alec had freed her from the
sack and carried her in his arms. He had to walk the entire way,
mostly through the woods, as the roads were too dangerous to use. He
was tired and wondering about himself. Maybe he was as big a fool as
Willem Mulder. It wasn't sensible to be taking chances like this, but
when Emilia looked up at him with her sad blue eyes, he couldn't think
like the rat he was.

The farmer looked weary, but he had a smile for Alec anyway. Alec
delivered the diamond pendant into the gnarled hand and said, "This
one can't talk, but she is an intelligent little girl. She is the
daughter of a friend, Emil, and her name is Emilia..."

"My namesake?" The big man questioned. He was the quintessence of
Polish peasantry with the heavy lidded eyes that gave a slow
appearance that could be deceptive. His eyes were big, bovine and
brown, but he was a hard worker and an intelligent man. He grinned at
the little girl and said "Milk and cheese will put the bloom back on
those cheeks. Don't worry, little one. I will return you to your mama
plump and merry."

Emilia turned away with a soft sound, clinging tightly to Alec's neck.
Had she not learned yet? No one could protect you from fate. Not even
Serge Scheinerman.

Emil's German wife, Herta, always had a kettle of soup bubbling. She
had a rosy-faced prettiness that toil and five children couldn't
diminish. She reminded Alec that, despite the misery Germany brought
to Poland and to the Jews, not all Germans were bad. He was going to
take the time to eat. A few hundred more calories could be life or
death and he intended to live.

The soup was mostly barley and cabbage, but there were a few shreds of
lean meat in it. Alec didn't ask whether it was beef or pork. Dietary
rules made no sense to him. You ate what there was to eat.

Bowing his head, he listened to the brief prayer and held back a
smile. If there was a God, he must have been as irresponsible as
Alec's father had been. He must have taken his pleasure and run off
without a care. Still, Alec knew better than to let his thoughts show.
Blending in was a skill he had practiced for as long as he could
remember. Even when his mother had been alive, Alec had lied before he
could really speak. After all, how much could a woman alone do to
protect her bastard child? The pretty toddler that he had been had
learned early how to hide and what lie would do best in what
circumstance.

Alec noted with approval that Emilia might be shy, but she didn't let
it stop her from eating an adult sized bowl of soup and a fist sized
hunk of bread. She had a full glass of milk beside her plate. It was
as much food as an entire family in the ghetto might eat if you
watered down the soup and added indigestible fiber to the bread.

When Alec prepared to leave, Emilia clung to him silently weeping for
a few minutes. Alec hugged her and set her on the floor. "Live, little
one. Danica has taken great risks that you might do so."

With a last look at the tiny survivor of the Nazi terror, Alec said
good-bye to the Polish farmer. This was, in all likelihood, the last
trip out. He had one more stop to make. There was a bachelor farmer
down the road who would give him a bag of food for the price of his
body for an hour or two.

Alec winced as he thought about it. He didn't want to do it. He wanted
to be in Willem and Serge's arms not in those of his gnarled admirer.

Emil handed him a heavy sack and said, "I went to Janz earlier today
and asked him for this. It will save you the trip. Janz agreed that it
would be better for you to be behind the walls early today."

A bear-like hug surrounded Alec and he embraced the Pole. He was not
sure how the man had dealt with Janz, but he was grateful. Perhaps,
this would be the night that Willem would make love to him.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Danica woke with that pleasant, slightly sore feeling of a night spent
making love. She heard voices from downstairs and groggily realized
that one of them was Alec's. She frowned, realizing her respite was
over. She closed her eyes, clenched her hands and tried to wish his
voice away.

A moment later, Jedrick entered the room. He said, "Danica, it's time.
You have to go back before it is too light."

The cool air brushed across her naked body as she reluctantly left the
warm bed. Jedrick embraced her, holding her tightly. He whispered,
"Danica, love, let me come into the ghetto. I know how to shoot. I
could help. We could be together."

"No, Jedrick, you can help us more out here," Danica said. She asked,
"Do I have time for a quick bath?"

"Yes, my love, do you want me to help you?" Jedrick asked, his eyes
sparkling. His curly hair was still in disarray from where her hands
had clutched it last night. His lips still held a hint of red ripeness
from their kisses. She had hardly noticed him when they first met, but
now, she found him beautiful, the dearest man she had ever met.

Reluctantly, Danica said, "If you help me, the bath won't be quick."

"You're right," Jedrick said, looking disappointed. He said, "I'll go
feed Alec. I have milk and bread for breakfast. I even have some jam."

Instantly Danica's mouth watered. Jam...When was the last time she had
tasted preserves? She said, "That's wonderful, Jedrick."

The luxury of hot water, mild soap, and a clean washcloth astounded
her. She had been gently reared, the daughter of a Polish general, a
hero. She had been his favorite child, the most adventurous and the
brightest. He was the one who had out-shouted the university and the
Jewish education committee to insist that she be allowed to attend
medical school. Even at her most weary and even after having her hands
in corpses learning anatomy, Danica had always gone home to clean,
pleasant surroundings. Even after a year of ghetto life, the filth
still offended her. She hated it almost more than the daily fear and
sorrow that had become the companion of every Jew.

As Danica came down the narrow dark stairway, she encountered a
terrifying scene. Karl Spindo had his son by the hair and as she came
into sight, he cursed and said, "If you wanted harlots, I could have
found you a Polish whore. I've been patient with you, Jedrick, but
now..."

A cigarette clung to Spindo's withered mouth. His pale cold eyes raked
over Danica and his expression held even more disgust. "You fool," he
snarled at his son. "You put me in danger with your nonsense. Your
name came up in discussions of possible resistance sympathizers. I
took care of the man that brought it up, but I won't let my puling
excuse for a son affect me."

The pistol left Jedrick's forehead to aim at Danica. As she fearlessly
faced the man, Krycek stumbled into sight, bleeding from a head wound.
The man snarled, "Spindo..."

The profiteer startled and turned at which point, Krycek lunged at
him. Spindo fell down the stairs, landing heavily with a thump like a
melon breaking. A moment later, Krycek swore and struggled away from
the old man. He plucked the still lit cigarette from the man's mouth
and threw it down, grinding it beneath his heel.

"Your old man is finished, Jedrick," Krycek said, not bothering to say
he was sorry. He traced the bloody bump on his head with a rueful
expression. "I thought he would accept what he always took as a bribe
before, but the dibbuk had other plans."

Danica checked and confirmed that the man was dead. She said, "I'm
sorry, Jedrick."

"He meant to kill me," Jedrick said. His face had paled. He tightened
his lips and frowned. "Don't be sorry. He killed my mother. He's
delivered Jews and Poles alike into the hands of the Nazis. I'm glad
he's dead...may God forgive me for saying so."

Krycek looked feral, eyes darting here and there. He said, "Let's get
out of here. Jedrick, we'll leave the body in your cellar. You had
best come with us. Grab what you can in five minutes."

With a grunt, Krycek dragged Spindo off toward the trapdoor that led
to the cellar. After a moment, Danica swallowed her shock and helped
him. She glanced at Krycek and said, "You did the right thing. You
saved Jedrick from his father."

It was almost worth it to see the surprise in those green eyes...

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

He wasn't really waiting for Krycek or so Mulder told himself. He
often had difficulty sleeping, even now when he was tired from the
burdens of command and the lack of food. Unlike Mulder, Serge was
asleep; his head was back and his mouth wide open with slack lips
vibrating from a faintly rumbling snore. Mulder looked at him with
amused tenderness. For every time they butted heads as they shared the
precarious command of this resistance unit, there were other times
when Mulder could not imagine life without his practical and
levelheaded lover.

The wooden barrier that concealed the bunker scraped against the
concrete, Mulder grabbed for his gun, blinking in surprise as he
realized that he had forgotten that he had been cleaning it. All he
had was the handle and dissembled barrel in his hand.

Rolling to his feet, his prized Walther 38 ready at hand, Serge looked
rumpled and dangerous. His dingy long underwear sagged at his waist,
peeling back from his powerful chest. His normally tender brown eyes
glittered dangerously in the dim light.

"Der Fuchs hat die Ratte," Krycek's tauntingly silken voice said.

With a grunt of annoyance, Mulder helped to move the heavy piece of
wood aside. Serge pulled on his trousers, a good thing because Danica
was with Alec. Mulder seemed even more irate when he saw Jedrick
Spindo flanking his two soldiers.

"What's he doing here?" Mulder growled, shoving a finger rudely at
Spindo's chest.

"You know he helps us," Danica said.

"No choice," Alec added, "I just killed his father to save his life.
The Nazis know he is our contact. The poor dumb bastard is stuck with
us."

"He's a doctor," Serge said, "We can use his help."

"I brought food, some more ammunition and medical supplies," Jedrick
said. All three of them were bent under heavy bags.

Mulder grunted, wanting to argue, but knowing that it was foolish. He
said, "He's a gentile."

"I'm going to convert," said Jedrick. "Danica and I are going to get
married."

Although Mulder didn't love Danica in quite that way, he was
threatened by the idea of her being with Jedrick. He said, "You can't.
The Nuremberg laws"

"I don't think that matters here," Alec said gently. "Let them be
happy, Mulder. There's little enough of that in our world.

Danica's hand was tightly clutched in Jedrick's. They looked at Mulder
pleadingly. He said, "All right, let's get the supplies inside. I want
to sleep before we find what the day holds for us."

The supplies were piled in the kitchen area. Michal, at fourteen the
youngest of Mulder's fighters, bounced with excitement, not minding at
all waking to this unexpected treat. Even grim fifty-five year old
Josek ventured a smile as he pulled out ten pounds of sugar and five
pounds of coffee. Rabbi Wolfem, who no longer prayed since the day he
had returned from a meeting with the resistance to find his family had
been gathered in an action, said, "I could believe in Him again for
this."

Alec tossed his head in his challenging way as he took out this
bounty. He said, "It's not as if Karl Spindo needs these things now."

Leaving his men to exclaim over the goods, Mulder pulled at Alec's arm
to take him back down a level to the little room that he and Serge
shared off the main tunnel entrance of the bunker. It was time to
crawl deep into the niche beneath the basement. Only a fool would
sleep above ground tonight. No one knew where Krycek kept his bunker,
but Mulder kept hold of his arm and said, "Stay with us tonight; we
have to talk."

(Continued in part 3)

Crying of the Stones (Slash) by Ursula

Part 3 See part 0 for header information.


The extraordinary eyes met Mulder's, reminding him of the Dutch seas
of his childhood. So calm, so peaceful in one moment, nourishing the
placid fishing villages and in the next battering at the dikes, an
irresistible natural force of destruction. He felt a wave of
disappointment, sure that Alec meant to refuse, but his head bobbed up
and down, a small gesture, but surrender.

The bunker beneath the floor was small. Most of it was filled with a
mattress that Serge had carried down on his own back. Before the war,
the cotton-covered mattress wouldn't have been anything special. It
was filled with chicken feathers rather than down and Mulder had to
fluff it frequently to prevent the feathers from clumping in
uncomfortable lumps. However as bunkers went, this one was the height
of luxury. It still smelled clean and the tunnel, which connected to
the sewers, was covered with the remains of a sturdy door. Mulder lit
the precious lantern for a few moments so they could see to undress.

Eyes closed, Krycek unbuttoned his jacket and toed off his sturdy
boots. The socks he wore were thick and clean and his feet were pale
in the darkness. He had been wearing a green colored sweater, heavy,
warm, and thick enough almost to make him look healthy and fat. His
ribs were showing underneath though, as were everyone else's. People
said that he was a profiteer who made a good living while others
starved, but it did not seem to Mulder that Krycek had been sparing
much for himself.

Alec was so clean. He had bathed as well as changed clothing. Mulder,
as usual, had found enough water to sponge bathe and his clothing,
while not fresh, was hardly as rank as most of the fighters'. He
insisted that his fighters find clean clothing and inspect each other
daily for lice. Lice could carry disease and being ill in the ghetto
usually meant death.

However, Mulder could not take his eyes off the pale body that was
slowly unveiled to him. He could see a few scars over the shoulders, a
star shaped indentation that might have been the path of a bullet. For
the most part, however, Krycek's body was not marked by his hard life.

Beautifully shaped nipples stood away from the swells of pectoral
muscle and the sturdy shoulders. His skin was only faintly dusted with
hair compared to Walter's ursine cast. Each rib showed with a defining
ridge of muscle; they lead down to a round ass, amazingly plump
compared to the rest of his body. The cheeks were so smooth that
Mulder immediately longed to kiss them, to suckle them, and to chew
lightly on their silken flesh.

A smooth velvety pelt of hair started with the merest paint strokes
below his inward turned navel, but grew steadily wider and more
profuse until it became the solid velvet nap that surrounded his cock.
His penis was lovely and thick; the bold head, revealed by the mark of
Abraham, was very round and smooth. His balls rested in their bed of
shining hair, the perfect match for the well-shaped cock above. His
legs were faintly bowed, as if he had briefly suffered from rickets as
a child, but other than that, they were as beautiful as the rest of
him.

Pushing Alec against the wall, Mulder was aware of how sweet the man
smelled. He didn't know what he wanted. "You smell good."

"Didn't want to waste Danica's bath oils," Alec answered. "I don't
mind smelling like a girl."

"You don't," Mulder said, "I can still smell you beneath like
something wild."

Grinding against the rat, Mulder was aware of Alec's arousal. The man
shuddered, his eyes fluttered, and his mouth opened as he leaned back,
neck helplessly arched to offer itself to Mulder's burning kisses.
Mulder guided Alec's hand to his own cock. "I want you," he said
decisively.

A sound interrupted their kiss and Mulder jumped away from Alec,
grabbing for a blanket.

"Sorry," said Serge. "Here I'll use this paneling to block the entry
for you."

With a glance toward Alec to gain his agreement, Mulder said, "No,
stay. I want you both."

Now, Mulder devoured Alec with kisses as Serge undressed and brought
out the Vaseline they used to penetrate each other. Alec muttered,
incoherent with need, as he eagerly pulled at Mulder's pants. Alec
reached for the lantern to put it out, but Mulder swiftly said, "No,
just this once, we'll waste the light."

Moaning, Alec fell to his knees and took Mulder's cock into his mouth.
Mulder's pants were pooled at his feet and he leaned back against the
small table at which he and Serge made their plans. His legs shook. He
was tired, he told himself, but that didn't explain the maddening
waves of desire that engulfed him. Alec's mouth worked on him. Mulder
knew better than to thrust, but Alec's eyes gazing up at him, seemed
to invite the violence of his lust. He moved faster, feeling Alec's
hands digging into the spare flesh of his smooth ass. He felt a finger
questing inside him and he groaned piteously for more. He felt Serge's
strong arms enclosing him and pulled him closer to bury his frantic
moans in his lover's generous mouth.

Putting aside his intention to straddle Alec like an unruly horse and
ride him into submission, Mulder suddenly wanted Alec inside him. He
wasn't sure how they made it to the bed or when he raised his legs to
capture this new lover, but he knew he was more than ready. His strong
legs pulled tight across Alec's back and his nails dug into the
bedding to brace himself against the power of Alec's thrusts. One hand
found Serge's head and forced it to his groin demandingly. He was the
center of the relationship and it was good. It was intense. His body
throbbed and he felt as if the pain and pleasure were splitting him in
half.

As Mulder came, he arched, his ears roared and his eyes seemed to open
to a world of red beauty. It was pleasure, undulating through him as
if he came with every molecule of his being. As he fell back
exhausted, Mulder drew a deep breath. He felt like a deflated balloon,
but not empty. It was as if he had been reduced to a thin layer of
self. For once he had no concerns, no needs and no doubts.

As Mulder lay like an odalisque upon the bed, Serge claimed Alec like
a wolf conquering his mate. He was gentle, but powerful as his hands
traveled over Alec, molding him into a firebrand of need. Serge had
Alec kneeling on the bed, one of his big hands grabbed a handful of
chestnut hair in a manner that looked painful, but seemed to be
arousing Alec. His mouth sucked at Alec's neck, marking him. Mulder
shuddered, surprised to feel a faint aroused response. He would have
thought that lack of good food and rest would have stilled his urges,
but he had never seen anything as beautiful as his two lovers. As Alec
smiled down at him, Mulder grinned knowing the feeling was returned.

As Alec leaned down in surrender, Mulder claimed a kiss from him,
enjoying the aroused whines vibrating from Alec's mouth. "You're such
a sexy bitch," Mulder whispered as Alec threw back his head in a
glorious silent scream. The tendons in Alec's beautiful neck were
sharply outlined. His nipples were tightly peaked. His eyes were wide
and radiant, hardly even human in the dim light of the battery run
lamp. He arched backwards, impossibly agile, to moan and be kissed by
Serge.

Serge's muffled cry as he came sounded like the cry of a hawk. He slid
down to the bed and said breathlessly, "I'm too old for this."

"Doesn't feel like it to me," Alec said. He winced as he rose from the
bed, making his way to the basin at which Mulder and Serge made what
passed for a bath. He washed himself, bending this way and that, his
sturdy, lean form glowing pale in the dim room. Finished, he tended to
Mulder, not forgetting to wash between his ass cheeks, playfully
thorough at that task.

"Don't you ever get tired?" Serge said as Alec tended to him.

"I'll rest when I'm dead," Alec said.

"Probably not," Mulder said. "Alec, do you ever think that we are born
time and again? That our souls blindly seek the ones that we love, the
ones that we hate until we achieve some beautiful balance?"

"Fancies and fairies," Alec said. "I'll stick to the life I know,
Mulder."

Mulder swatted Alec's naked ass and said, "You lack poetry, both of
you."

Catching Mulder's hand before it could spank him as well as Alec,
Serge said, "I don't know. That was all the poetry that I ever wanted
in my life."

Glancing at Mulder, Serge asked, "Any regrets?"

"Many," Mulder said, watching the shadows fall over Alec's face.
"Mostly that I didn't make the first move when I met Alec and you."

Turning over, Alec kissed Mulder's shoulder and then reached behind
him to drag Serge's hand over his body as if the comfort of that touch
was all the shelter he would ever need.

Mulder drew the rough army blanket over them and for that moment,
stolen from time, they were happy.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

"It's time," Jedrick said tenderly to Danica. He had been talking to
Rabbi Wolfem. The poor man did not know how to deal with Jedrick's
passionate desire to convert to Judaism. It had been no use for him to
protest that he no longer believed. Jedrick had already been studying
in secret, assuming that Danica would want him to convert. Now, he was
determined that Rabbi Wolfem would teach him.

Danica grasped her lover's hand as Mulder, Serge, and Alec finally
emerged from the lower level room. She couldn't begrudge the happiness
in her friend's eyes. She understood. They faced death, but they were
young and alive. Until their hearts stilled, they would be immersed in
the magical powers of earth's biological imperatives.

Serge's old friend, Johan, said, "I'll go with you two. Serge couldn't
get exact times on the action. You may need protection. Most of the
other Jewish policemen still respect me."

Doggett looked sad. He had taken an interest in Danica. She hadn't
realized he was interested until she caught sight of his unhappy eyes
last night when she introduced her fiance. The former Jewish policeman
was tough and honest. He had only stayed with the ghetto police out of
loyalty to Serge. He hated the corruption and the need to work with
the Nazis. His wife and child had been taken in one of the earliest
actions. He was not sure how it happened, but assumed it was revenge
for his failure to take part in the corruption.

Nodding at her disappointed friend, Danica picked up the package of
poison. It felt as if the weight of the world was in her hand. Jedrick
silently embraced her, sharing the burden.

"Go beneath as I taught you," Alec lectured. "Take care. Some of us
are still willing to cooperate with them, thinking they will be
spared."

"But they are wrong," Serge said, his hand closing on Johan's
shoulder. "It's the end. They have no more need of our work. They want
us all dead. I've seen the day coming and now it is here."

The tunnels allowed them to travel out of sight. Occasional peeks at
the surface confirmed that the news was out. Only the walking dead
drifted through the streets. Even those were few. No one left in the
ghetto was weak. The foolish, the weary, and the meek had all fallen
to disease, boarded a transport or been killed by one the myriad means
to die that afflicted the ghetto.

The hospital held very few patients. No one came here who was strong
enough to hide in a bunker or escape to the dubious safety of the
woods. Danica had amputated the leg of a young man in one bed. Part of
a wall had fallen on him when he had been attempting to build a new
bunker. He looked resignedly at the tray that Danica bore.

"It's all right, sister," Malachi said. He was only seventeen, one of
the bravest of the Jewish Ghetto defenders. He said, "I'm going to
stay and fight them. I still have my gun, but I'd appreciate it if you
left me a needle. I won't let them kill me. I'll die my way."

Nodding, Danica leaned over to kiss the young man on the forehead. She
swayed as she stood up. Closing her eyes for a moment, Danica prayed
for strength. Her voice sounded clear and calm as she said, "My
brothers, my sisters, my elders, the time has come. The destruction of
the ghetto has been ordered. The main action will come today. No one
is protected. No one is safe from transport. This is strychnine mixed
with the remainder of our painkillers. I'll administer it to anyone
who chooses. I'll be with you to the end."

The close-crowded beds murmured as those patients who had enough
strength left to speak made their choices. Elsewhere, the scene
repeated again and again in the hospital.

It was four in the morning on April 19th, 1943.

A section of tunnel was collapsed en route back to the bunker. It was
either go a mile around or take briefly to the streets. Danica wanted
to return to the bunker. They were her family now. She wanted to die
with them, die fighting. The tears had dried on her face and now her
expression was hard. She had wept her last at the hospital when the
doctors drew lots to decide who would stay with the few patients who
refused euthanasia. Now, her heart wanted to kill as much as it wanted
to live.

The bunker was in an uproar when Danica arrived. "What's wrong?" she
asked.

Serge held Mulder off from Alec. The ghetto rat's cheek was bruised
and his sweater was torn. Mulder looked red faced with fury.

As they entered, Mulder broke loose and went after Alec again. Jedrick
wedged between them and even Danica jumped into the fray. Finally
Mulder screamed, "Go then. Get the hell out of my sight, Alec."

With a swift glance at Danica, Alec slipped by them and scuttled away
into the darkness of the tunnel.

Puzzled, Jedrick said, "He wouldn't do that."

"He did it," Mulder said sullenly. "I don't care. I knew he would
leave. I knew it!"

Expressionless now, Mulder said, "We don't have much time. Let's take
our positions."

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

They must have thought it was a parade. Jackbooted troops proceeded in
front of the tanks, the clicking of their heels like so many Spanish
dancers flicking castanets. The tanks rumbled, an eerie earth shaking
sound in the pre-dawn. Off to one side, a mounted cavalry officer was
struggling to control his uneasy horse.

As agreed by all the diverse groups of the Jewish Defense
Organization, the Nazis were allowed to penetrate the gates in peace,
deep enough that they grew over confident, sure that the little Jewish
mice would not turn and fight.

Unfortunate, independent ghetto survivors untrained and without good
bunkers, occasionally broke and ran. Usually the sharp crack of a
weapon marked their death as a sharpshooter took them out as if they
were so many clay pigeons. If they were less lucky, the Nazis dragged
them out alive, allowing the brutal Ukrainian soldiers to kick them to
death.

The Jewish fighters were as silent as a hawk's wings, but to the
Nazis, it must have seemed as if the rabbits had suddenly turned on
the falcon. As planned, the tanks stalled at a barricade that appeared
overnight in the main road. A tank rumbled down the side street, which
led only to the ghetto wall. A second tank followed. Jewish fighters
rose out of the rubble like the spirits of the dead reaching out of
hell to avenge themselves.

One of the few grenades volleyed right into an open turret as the
confused tank driver studied the logistics of backing out of the
dead-end. The crew of the second tank did not have any time to react
as they were dragged out of the beast, their throats slit, their
bellies gutted. A Molotov cocktail tossed into the interior assured
the tank would never need another crew.

Mulder's fighters cheered at their success. The plan had gone without
a hitch. The Jewish fighters had not lost a single defender and had
taken out two of the Nazi tanks. Mulder muttered, "Don't be
overconfident. From now on, it will not be easy. They know now they
are not slaughtering sheep."

The troops that had relied on the tanks for protection were unnerved.
They were mostly conscripted Ukrainians, who barely knew one end of a
gun from another. The Nazis had thought them generally useless, but
good enough to fight a handful of starving Jews. The peasants, long
used to oppression, thought little of cruelty to the one group of
people they were allowed to dominate. To them, this was an organized
pogrom, just another of the outbursts of xenophobia to which they were
prone. They expended their frustration for the privations of their
lives on the even less privileged Jews.

The veneer of Nazi officers and non-commissioned squad leaders was the
special target of the sharpshooters. As Mulder aimed at an officer's
cap, he saw the man fall. He glanced up and saw Serge's teeth gleam in
a fierce smile. Their eyes met and sent each other adoration across
the length of the rooftop that separated them.

Somehow, Mulder kept expecting to see Krycek despite his stated plan
of getting out of the ghetto. The man never appeared and as the
fighting grew desperate, Mulder acknowledged the truth in the man's
words. They could not hold the tide back. Yet, their madness held a
method, as the troops concentrated on the overt flight, the remaining
non-fighters, as many as could be ferreted away, were being led
through the sewers to take their chances in the woods outside of
Warsaw.

Every bullet, every tank, every soldier that was diverted to
destroying the ghetto also leeched at the strength of the Nazis' front
lines. The allied radio transmissions told a story different from the
Nazis' proclamation of imminent victory. Slowly, the United States
lent belated efforts to the war, bringing fresh soldiers and the
riches of a country that would never again be quite so wealthy or
powerful. The Nazis and the Axis armies were being defeated one bloody
inch of a ground at a time.

The evidence was here in the extreme youth or extreme age of the few
German soldiers. Mulder felt not a twinge however as he targeted a
blond and blue eyed fellow who looked all of sixteen.

Moshe Fajner, who was among the day's dead, had been a twelve-year-old
warrior, orphaned and the last of what had been a vast happy extended
family, the children of a devout Rabbi. The bullet Mulder aimed hit
dead center shattering the look of arrogance on the youth's Aryan face
forever. "For you, Moshe," Mulder whispered. God willing, he would
commemorate the memory of all twelve children of the brave boy's
family with the same blessing, a dead Nazi.

The fighting shifted back to the main street as Polish laborers
finally succeeded in clearing the rubble that blocked the tanks. Dead
Poles were equally divided between those shot by the Nazis for trying
to flee the Jewish bullets and those that were shot as they strove to
clear the barricade.

Mulder saw a Molotov hit a tank. It was useless, a dribble of fire
down the metal walls that the men inside would not even feel. He did
not want to waste a bullet so he waited, as did all his men for a
chance to make each precious shot count. Still, they needed to disable
that tank.

An explosion to the side startled the troops. The Nazi sharpshooter's
guns swung in that direction. Mulder was not even sure why he happened
to be looking back at the tank. However, he saw something rise up out
of the street as if by magic. It was black against the background of
flames as this part of the ghetto burned. He saw it swarm up the side
of the tank, clinging to the behemoth like a louse to a pubic hair.
Flame lit and a hand guided a Molotov cocktail into a portal meant to
hold an extra gun. The man's face showed for one moment as he lifted
his head higher for a moment to assure himself that the fiery gift had
been received. It was Alec and suddenly Mulder's ache of lust for the
man was transformed. He fell in love in that second.

The act was so audacious that the Nazis did not comprehend what had
happened in the confusion caused by what now appeared to be a cleverly
set charge of dynamite. The explosion had collapsed the entire brick
front of what had been an old bank. This had killed several Nazis and
injured others with flying debris. Mulder thought that it was not
until a man on fire came screeching from the tank that the Nazis even
realized what had taken place.

The superstitious peasants that composed these troops screamed in
horror. They must have thought the devil was after them as the man ran
in blind panic, flames shooting from his clothing and hair. At the
rate that the fire consumed him, it could not have been long before he
finally fell, still not dead, but beyond running. In the confusion,
Alec got clean away, disappearing back into his sewer.

After their own shock had passed, considerably more rapidly than the
shattered Nazis and their unwilling soldiers, Mulder's men used the
opportunity to take out even more of the Nazi officers.

At the end of day one, a spirit of stunned victory held over the
ghetto. The Nazis had retreated back out the gates. The mighty war
machine, the chosen of the gods, had backed away in near panic. A
handful of starved, poorly armed, despised Jews had defeated them. The
Poles, all too often endorsing the Nazi genocide with their silence,
whispered the news over the illegal radio. Mulder hoped that the
Polish resistance would take heart and rise with the Ghetto, catching
the Nazis between two flaming forces of resistance. He knew if they
did there was a chance that this might be more than spitting in the
Nazi eyes. They might even take Warsaw back.

The night was not spent in celebration. There were wounded and Danica,
her own hands black with powder from firing a world war one vintage
rifle that had belonged to her father, had washed them clean finally
to tend wounds. The leaders took advantage of the absence of militia
in the streets to swarm from meeting place to meeting place to share
strategies that worked. When they met in the basement above Mulder's
bunker, Mordecai Anielewicz, the chief architect of the Warsaw
resistance entered and rushed to Mulder, kissing him loudly on both
cheeks.

"Brilliant, brilliant," the man congratulated. "I would never have
dreamed of such an audacious tactic."

Amused, Mulder said, "Nor would I. Krycek came up with it on his own."

A sardonic smile flitted across Krycek's face. He had cleaned up from
the effluvia of his usual haunt and had even shaved. Yet nothing could
take away the wildness of his expression.

(Continued in part 4)

Crying of the Stones (Slash)
by Ursula

Part 4
See part 0 for header information.


That Mordecai was a great man showed in that he went to Krycek and
kissed him next. "Will it work again?"

"I have no more dynamite," Alec said sadly. "It will work if a fighter
is willing to give his life to it and if they can get to a tank."

Mordecai nodded slowly and said, "It will come to that, no doubt
unless Warsaw rises."

"For us?" Alec questioned. "Never!"

The bitter words were not questioned, not even by Jews such as Josef
Rosenfield, another of the leaders, who had been a hero of the Polish
army for all the good it had done when defeat made equals of them all.

The first day had ended. For one moment, the Jews of the Warsaw ghetto
were victorious.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

"What do you want with becoming a Jew?" Josek asked, his restless hand
combing his gray beard. "You have a suicide wish or something?"

Jedrick said, "I have to convert. Danica promised her father that she
would only marry a Jew. Please, Fa...Rabbi!"

"Judaism is not about marriage, young man," Josek said. "It is about
serving God. What if you decide in years to come that you are not
happy in your conversion?"

"I believe that I was meant to be a Jew," Jedrick argued. He smiled
and his face suddenly had a charm that would have swayed stone. "Let
me live as one because, Rabbi, I will certainly die as one."

Looking at the two eager faces, the Rabbi grumbled but took out the
Torah and pressed close to the dimly lit lantern. To Mulder's
surprise, Alec grabbed Michal, his young protge and dragged him over
to Josek. "You can teach this young one too, as long as you are
setting up a school. He is fourteen, already old for his Bar Mitzvah."

"But you said I was a man when I was twelve, when I first helped you
smuggle weapons into the ghetto," protested the outraged orphan.

Chuckling, Alec said, "That's a different kind of manhood. Study with
Rabbi Josek. You should know what is worth dying to save, my Michal."

Mulder saw a dignity settle over Josek and peace. He could bless
Jedrick and Alec for allowing Josek to spend a few hours, remembering
what had been his life before the ghetto.

As Josek recited the first lesson, first Serge repeated the words in
his deep voice, then his friend Johan, and finally even, Alec. Tears
rolled down Mulder's face as he recited the words he had hardly said
since his own Bar Mitzvah, which had been more of a status symbol than
a religious rite.

In the dark bunker, the voices of thirteen men and one woman rose in
words that had outlasted the empires that had oppressed their people.

Despite exhaustion, Mulder didn't want to go to bed to sleep. Each
time that he looked at Alec, his blood was on fire. As he finished the
staffing, he looked around him, pleased that his small group had
survived the day.

Johan has suffered a powder burn when he had crept up on a Ukrainian
sniper. He had broken the man's neck leaping down on him from a wall.
The soldier's weapon had discharged between them, so close that
Johan's face had been burned. He still held the captured machine gun
near him as Danica tended to his injury. Serge clapped a hand to
Johan's shoulder and said, "That was a foolish act, Doggett."

"What's foolish about it? The man had to be taken out and I knew how
to do it. He didn't see me coming," Doggett said.

Serge grinned and said "I think you did it just to get our Danica's
hands on you."

"Shh," Danica said, glancing at Jedrick. Her fiance shrugged as if to
say by his gesture, 'Let them tease'.

Mulder stopped paying attention because Alec had started down the
stairs. Green eyes smoldered at him over a gracefully turned shoulder.
Mulder crossed the room in a few strides. He could hardly wait to push
the panel aside to get to the lowest level of the bunker.

Even so, Alec was already undressing by the time that Mulder reached
him. His own clothes hit the floor almost instantly. "We'll wash each
other," Mulder said.

Shrugging, Alec finished stripping. Mulder tore his own clothing off
and grabbed the rag from the basin. The water had been used more times
than he wanted to think about, but it was still wet. Alec's hair was
full of ashes. His face had been gray with powder. By the end of the
day, he had earned the appellation of the dibbuk rat. He had struck
terror into the hearts of the superstitious Ukrainians. At one point
he had decapitated one of the soldiers, and thrown the head back into
a troop of his fellows. When the horrified soldiers crowded back in to
identify the dead man, the head had exploded. Alec had loaded it with
dynamite and small rocks, creating as much damage as he was able.

"You came back," Mulder said, as he finished washing his lover. "Why
did you lie to me about leaving?"

"I didn't lie. I was leaving, but then I thought of all those fat
Nazis I could kill. Worth a day or two of my time," Alec said.

Accepting, Mulder said, "You were beautiful today. I saw your soul."

"Nonsense," Alec said, "if I had a soul, I would have found a way to
sell it."

His lips kissing the tender hollow of Alec's collarbone, Mulder said,
"You have a soul, Alec, a perfect warrior soul. I want you more today
than I did yesterday."

Kissing and suckling, Mulder explored the stark outlines of Alec's
spine. Despite how thin he was Alec was beautiful. Alec's ass was
still round and Mulder gently parted the globes to delve inside with
his tongue. Alec shivered and almost fell at the sensation.

Stumbling, laughing without good reason except they were alive and
together, Mulder allowed Alec to slip away and escape him until they
were both tumbling on the bed. Alec knelt; his body crouched to accept
Mulder. It was not enough for Mulder to merely push inside. This was a
gentle, but complete domination. He wanted to see Alec quivering
beneath him. He needed him utterly and wanted to consume him to his
very soul.

Shuddering, Alec lowered his head to his hands, his breath coming
faster. Coming...

Mulder rapidly reached around to clamp his hand on Alec's cock. "Wait,
trust me. I'll make it good for you."

Alec arched his neck to stare back at Mulder, eyes uncertain.

Mulder smiled at him and said, "You will like it." His voice fell an
octave and became a throaty caress. His entire body felt on fire with
need, but he was in perfect control. Just one time, he wanted to see
Alec shuddering in passion. He wanted to shut down that calculating
mind and evoke the unbridled ecstasy of Alec's desire.

His moans and heavy sighs of need made his mouth tremble as he coaxed
Alec to open for him. He was almost grateful for his weakened body
because he knew he wouldn't have been able to last under normal
circumstances with the excitement he felt.

His stroking hand felt the telltale flag as his penetration caused
discomfort. He toyed with Alec, rubbing a finger lightly across the
glans, teasing the underside of the rigid cock. As he pushed deeper
inside Alec, he felt the bolt of excitement as if it was his own.

"It's good," Mulder said. It wasn't a question. He knew by the way
that Alec bucked under him, pushing back and thrusting forward as he
reacted to his confused senses.

"Yes," Alec said, "Yes, Mulder, do it to me."

Their bodies rocked together, faster now. The friction burning between
them and their skin gliding with the sweat of their pleasant exertion.

"Now," Alec said, exhaling the word, shuddering from bowed head to
curled toes. "Now!"

The passionate plea was enough to trigger the oblivion of release.
Just one moment of glorious total surrender to the beast of his body.

"Ah, good," Mulder said with contentment. He lay atop Alec's collapsed
body for a moment.

"Hey, get off," Alec said, "Not that I don't want to be close, but
it's getting hard to breathe."

"Not very romantic," Mulder scolded. With an effort, he went to what
remained of their washing water and poured the last of it over a
cloth. The sparse sponge bath felt so good. It was if their skins were
thirsty for the water.

"We won't be able to waste any water after tonight," Alec said,
bringing reality crashing into their pretty fantasy. "We routed them
today, but tomorrow they will know."

"We'll have to find some other way to surprise them," Mulder said. "We
don't have a choice. Surely if we can succeed in holding them off for
a few more day, Warsaw will know it is possible. Perhaps the partisans
will answer our pleas"

His words were smothered in kisses. Alec stopped only long enough to
say, "You're such a dreamer, Mulder. Must be nice to live in that
world."

Serge arrived for bed. His kiss had an alcohol tinge. Uzner must have
found some more liquor in his ramblings. He had said that he was going
to have a look in the Judenrat's chambers for salvage.

Mulder couldn't blame Uzner for drinking when he could. His wife and
children had been visiting her mother in Tykocin, a small village near
Treblinka. He had stayed to mind the remainder of his property, but he
wanted his family out of danger. It had taken weeks before the news
reached the ghetto that the Jews of Tykocin had been marched off to
the woods to die.

Even then, Uzner had not believed. Serge had commandeered Alec's help
to make their way to Tykocin. When they returned, Uzner's hair went
white almost overnight. Serge, who had always argued that Jews would
survive this as they had survived other injustice, no longer always
argued for the conservative course. He believed and no longer
straddled the camps between the deal-making Jewish council and
activists such as Mulder and leaders such as Mordecai Anielewicz.

As for Uzner, the man was a shadow of his former self. He, who had
been so poised, so eager for success, and so worldly a Jew, had tried
to find comfort in faith and when that did not ease his pain, he
drank. Ultimately, Uzner said that killing Nazis did not give him
surcease for more than a moment, but he felt some thin edge of joy
that each one he killed would never be the death of another Jewish
child.

Serge kissed each of them before pushing his way between them. Mulder
explored Serge's body gently, cupping his heavy cock in his hand.
Serge whispered, "Milking a dead cow, Mulder. We toasted Uzner's son
in strong brandy tonight."

"You shouldn't drink," Alec commented. "You'll be slow tomorrow."

Serge swatted Alec's ass and said, "Fast enough for the Nazis. Hush,
go to sleep."

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Serge was sleeping heavily beside him, but Mulder's questing hand
couldn't find Alec.

Sitting up, Mulder tried not to wake Serge. His lover needed more
sleep than he did. Almost everyone did.

Reaching for his journal, Mulder wrote a few words to commemorate the
day. Nothing about making love to Alec and Serge, of course. If this
was found afterwards, Mulder didn't want people to think about him and
his foibles. He wanted them to know that real people had fought and
died here, but he didn't want them to speculate about his loves. He
wasn't ashamed, but he knew the world could not accept that he loved
not only a man, but also more than one man.

There was someone coming. This time Mulder was ready and so, to his
surprise, was Serge. His lover was awake by his side, already holding
his Walther in hand.

Alec emerged from the tunnel, followed by Michal. Both held bundles
and looked keyed up, bright eyed like naughty boys. Mulder grunted and
said, "Where did you go?

"Out to bring in water. We left it in the tunnel," Alec said. "When we
were in the city, we found some nice fat prey"

Grinning widely, Alec showed his large white teeth in a genuine
pleased smile. He said, "Look, Mulder, I've found some boots in your
size. Let me try them on you."

Swatting Michal's butt, Alec said, "Take the rest upstairs, malchik."

Kneeling in front of Mulder, Alec carefully washed and dried his feet;
he had also acquired foot powder, and stroked it over Mulder's feet
before smoothing clean, thick socks over each long, thin appendage.
The boots were good quality.

"American," Alec said reverently, "This Ukrainian must have been on
the front line at one point or maybe he took them from a prisoner of
war."

Looking childishly pleased at his gift, Alec rocked back on his heels
to admire the boots.

Wiggling his toes, Mulder enjoyed the comfort of the well-made boots.
He stood up and they fit as if made for him. Smiling at his pleasure,
Serge asked, "Did you find me a present too?"

"Coffee," Alec said, "our generous friend also had American coffee and
chocolate in his pack. I think he was a black marketer. We will have
coffee in the morning."

"Bless your murderous little hands," Serge said. He abandoned the bed
and said, "It's near enough morning. I'd like a good cup of coffee
before it gets worse."

"During the night, the Polish Armia Krajowa tried to help us. They
made an attempt to take down the wall on Sapierinksa Street," Alec
said.

Pleased at this news, Mulder asked, "Did they succeed?"

"Fucking Polish police betrayed them," Alec said, "May their pig
hearts roast in hell."

"Still it is a sign," Mulder said, "Surely Warsaw will rise and we
will be saved."

"Keep believing, my love," Alec said, trying to soften the sneer of
disbelief that crossed his face.

"There's hope," Serge said.

"Let's go up," Mulder decided. "I can't sleep any longer."

The tightly packed bunker stirred to life. No one said anything about
the coming day. After a breakfast enriched by Jedrick's dowry and by
the additions of Alec's donations, the twelve people in the shelter
spent time cleaning weapons, preparing first aid kits, and making sure
that they had rags to cover their faces.

A runner came by to let Mulder's people know that today they would
take to the rooftops again as long as they could. Mordecai thought
they could disable the tanks by pushing parts of the walls on them.
This was not a daunting task as shelling had left many ragged sections
of buildings tottering on the verge of collapse.

Mulder's people were assigned to cover the fighters who would be
raising the stones of the ghetto in defense of its people. Mulder
smiled, sure that Mordecai was pleased at the biblical tactic he had
chosen.

More than once, Mulder glanced at Alec to assure himself that his
lover wasn't going to pull a disappearing act again. Alec scowled at
him forbiddingly and shrugged as if to say, 'don't try to understand
me'.

Easy enough to grasp the message, Alec was a wonder, a cat who walked
alone. To stay trapped in the bunker must go against his every
instinct. Mulder realized that Alec must love them very much to defeat
his instincts and make this stand with them.

The rise and fall of half sung phrases from the corner meant that
Rabbi Wolfem was teaching again. Danica paused from packing bandages
made of salvaged sheets to gaze across the room at the innocent face
of her lover. Her lips curved in a soft smile and her blue eyes
softened with joyous wonder.

Mulder didn't know whether it was a bad world for creating love in the
middle of death or if the so intense relationships here were the final
gift of God's free will. He looked at Alec and at Serge, who savored a
last sip of the coffee and he couldn't dispute the gift of love in
whatever form was chosen for him. Strange, all his life he had been
admired, pursued, and acclaimed. He had been ill at ease with every
lover, feeling that they didn't really see him and would want to
change him. Now he had chosen two men, shocking enough, but for one to
be so middle class and the other, well, the other was an atavism out
of time. Alec was elegant, but he was a stranger everywhere.

Checking his rifle one more time and securing his pistol, Mulder was
ready to crawl from the safety of the bunker. Rabbi Wolfem, his eyes
shining and his body suddenly held straight-backed and proud, said,
"We will say our Morning Prayers before we go to..." A rueful smile
crossed the full mouth above the gray beard. Rabbi Wolfem said,
"Before we go to our day's labors."

Although Mulder had never found much comfort in prayer, he did today.

"Hear, oh Israel, the Lord is our God. The Lord is one"

Surely so had the Macabees prayed. So had Rabbi Akiba prayed before
his final battle with his fellow Asara Harugui Malchut. Mulder smiled
bitterly. Sad to think that all the uplifting tales of Jewish
rebellion spoke to the same ending, death and loss. Yet, the Jewish
people had survived. Perhaps, his name would be spoken in some future
temple. Surely, Mordecai's would be.

When the prayer finished, Mulder blushed as Danica lifted her skirt
and calmly strapped another pistol beneath the heavy rough garment.
She tugged down the length of wool and said, "Even if they take me, I
will kill at least one more."

And Jedrick's eyes were shining as he beheld her.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

The day was a jumble of images. A wall tumbling on a tank, immuring it
in stones. A German cavalry officer losing control of his horse after
being stoned by Jewish fighters who were small boys no older than
twelve. The screams of a woman as she jumped from a burning building,
her child still clutched to her bosom. Mordecai's eagle eyes as he
directed some of his chosen fighters to rout a group of Ukrainians
that had lost their officers to sniper bullets.

A woman on Muranowska Street took out a tank with a Molotov cocktail,
nearly as Alec had. She did not survive the assault, but her action
allowed time for one of the machine guns to be moved to a better
placement to defend the ghetto.

The Jewish defenders of Brushmaker's Street drove off a troop of
German soldiers, not the almost untrained Ukrainian conscripts, but
combat-trained men. On that day, Hitler's birthday, the Jews were
again in charge of the Ghetto at the end of the fighting.

As Mulder made his way back to the bunker, he counted his men. Alec
emerged from the upper level tunnel. Serge was limping slightly as he
followed behind Mulder. Danica knelt by a pallet. Her pale face looked
worried. Solomon Polack looked with good humor at Mulder's expression.
He said, "I always lost at hide and seek. I thought I was well
protected by a pillar, but a German solder found me an easy target. I
could not stop Johan from carrying me back here."

"Well, what did you think?" Mulder said. "A little scratch like that
is no excuse for lying about. You'll be on your feet tomorrow."

Danica's expression didn't need to tell Mulder that his assurance was
a cheerful lie. He could see that Solomon was gut shot. He wouldn't
last the night.

That night as Solomon drifted into delirium, there were only eight
people left in the bunker besides the dying man.

Tyber Balaban, the former teacher had been captured. Alec said that he
had seen the Nazis execute him with a bullet in the head. Zalman
Szneider, the engineer, had been helping with the defenses on
Muranowska Street when the building over the bunker had been set on
fire. None of the defenders inside had made it out.

Mojzesz Meirtchak and Avner Gutman had simply disappeared in the
chaos. Perhaps they had made it to another bunker, but Mulder did not
dare to hope. He should, he supposed, be grateful that eight out of
the fourteen defenders of this bunker still lived against all sane
predictions.

(Continued in part 5)

Crying of the Stones (Slash) by Ursula

Part 5 See part 0 for header information.


Sorrow and weariness weighed them too heavily to make love, but the
three men clung together, savoring the moments that they could be one.

In the morning, Danica greeted Mulder with a wan look. She said,
"Solomon had a cyanide pill. He was afraid that his cries would
endanger us."

There were not even enough of them left to say Kaddish. Rabbi Wolfem
insisted that they bury Solomon properly. Although they could not make
it to the Jewish cemetery, they reached the courtyard of the orphanage
where Solomon had last taught. Surely if God had any mercy, his soul
would be reunited at last with his lost orphans.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Rolling his eyes, Mulder grimaced at the crowd of men pushed into the
bunker. Jedrick stood with shining eyes, ready for the ceremony. His
voice rang out clearly and confidently as he answered all the
questions put to him. Not even the most conservative of the surviving
Rabbis could complain that he failed to answer even the most obscure
point of the faith.

Personally, Mulder thought Jedrick was a fool to undergo the ceremony.
Like most Polish gentiles, he had not been circumcised. To undergo
bris under these circumstances seemed to risk infection and to lessen
the chance for escape. No one could identify Jedrick on sight as a
resistance leader, but after tonight, he was marked as a Jew. However,
Jedrick insisted even when the Jewish court gently tried to dissuade
him.

Alec had pulled one of his disappearing acts earlier, but he had
returned in time for the ceremony. His expression was amused and
tender as he observed his friend. Jedrick seemed to be the least
complicated relationship of his complex life. The good-hearted young
man accepted Alec as he was and did not seem to expect that the Ghetto
Rat act as other people did.

To Mulder's surprise, Alec produced two bottles of champagne for the
occasion and two beautiful loaves of bread on which they spread the
remainder of the strawberry jam from Jedrick's pantry. Despite being
very white of face, Jedrick was smiling. Now, he was a Jew. Now, he
would be able to marry Danica without troubling her devotion to her
father's memory.

The rabbinical court insisted that Jedrick also undergo mikvah. There
was only one of the ceremonial baths surviving by now. It was half
buried in rubble, but many hands cleared enough space for one skinny
convert to be immersed.

The women of the resistance might be warriors, but they were female
enough to fuss over a wedding even under these circumstances. Danica
was properly done from her mikvah bath to a Huppah under which to
stand.

Unsurprisingly, the wedding ceremony was performed three days later.
No one thought they could hold out for the entire five days of
tradition, but the couple was kept apart for the three days. The white
robes had been hidden throughout this dreadful imprisonment. Now, the
wedding pair gleamed like angels in them.

Glancing at Serge, Mulder saw him lay a supportive hand on Johan
Doggett's shoulder. The man had adored Danica since the first time
that he had seen her. In fact, Mulder was sure that it was the red
hair, of his beautiful partner in the Zionist cause, rather than
fervor for a homeland that led Johan to join his group.

A wry smile crossed the odd triangular face and Johan toasted the
lovers. He shrugged and moved away to help the others ready the den
below the bunker as a honeymoon suite. Alec whispered in Mulder's ears
"Not that Jedrick is up to performing."

"Shh," Mulder scolded. Alec smirked back at him.

Elsewhere in the ghetto, a woman had given birth. A pity that. There
was no way that the infant would live. Mulder hoped that the cries did
not result in death for the bunker that housed the event.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

By the end of April, Mulder knew that all was lost. Despite sporadic
attempts to help the embattled defenders of the ghetto from the
outside and despite the desperation, which extracted a bitter toll on
the German soldiers as they fought foot by foot into the ghetto, the
defenders were dying.

New faces crowded the bunker now, as other enclaves become
uninhabitable. This was one of the better shelters and, so far, none
of the gas that the Nazis had released in the sewers had made it past
the baffles.

Modesty was forgotten in the constant heat. The city was burning over
their heads and, even this far underground; the inhabitants felt as if
they were trapped in an oven. Even Danica wore only a pair of men's
shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt. Mulder felt nauseous from a foray
into the sewer. He and Serge had nearly fainted after stumbling into a
gas pocket left from an earlier attack. Mordecai wanted them to make
one last attempt to contact the resistance outside. Alec was sure that
he could make it through the sewers.

Jedrick and Danica were reluctant to go with the group, but they both
had key roles. Jedrick had contacts with the well-armed force. They
needed a doctor and would welcome both Jedrick and Danica for that
reason. At the least, they could trade the medical services for more
arms.

Danica looked up and argued, "I'm needed."

"There are no wounded here," Mulder said. It was not entirely true,
but for the most part, the wounded took cyanide rather than burden the
fighters with their care. A cry could lead the increasingly effective
Nazi storm troopers to a bunker. Grave silence was first nature to the
warriors of the resistance.

Jedrick remained silent. He was a contact for the group and Mulder
knew that his presence would lend credence to the plea. He would never
leave without Danica though.

Alec presented the same sort of problem. He was one of the few
fighters who never became lost in the maze of sewers and tunnels. He
was also familiar with the entire area. Therefore he was essential to
the party, but he would not go unless his lovers went with him.

It had been a week since Mordecai had stirred from his bunker. Mulder
was shocked at the change in his hero. Mordecai was like the spirit of
Judea housed in a thin shell of flesh. His eyes burned from his thin
face, but his voice was as strong as ever. He grasped both of Mulder's
hands and his resonant voice said, "Next year in Jerusalem."

"God willing," Mulder vowed.

"What is this about you not going? You must go. You and Serge are
perfect for the job. You both have dealt with Gentiles all of your
life. If anyone can bring us help, you can."

"What if we can't get back inside?" Mulder asked.

"Then stay outside and coordinate support," Mordecai instructed.
"There is little to be done here now. We are dying, Mulder. I would
like to know that some of us will live to tell the tale of our
defense. If you get to the Holy Land after this is over, you must see
Jerusalem for me."

"We'll see it together," Mulder said. He said, "I'll go, but if I can
get back here, I will."

Mordecai kissed Mulder on both cheeks and then shook Serge's hand.
"Good luck to you all!"

It was a grim parting. All of them knew it was unlikely they would see
each other again.

Michal refused to go with them, although Alec had persuaded Mulder
that the boy should leave. The orphan had become attached to Rabbi
Wolfem and would not leave him and the Rabbi felt his place was in the
ghetto. The hatred had faded from his eyes as they fought; he seemed
oddly at peace with himself. More importantly for the Rabbi, he had
made his peace with God.

Alec clung to his orphaned friend for a long time. "Come," he begged.

"My place is here," Michal said, stepping away from Alec to place a
hand on the Rabbi's arm.

Shaking his head, Alec said, "I should have hidden you with the other
children."

"Alec, I have become a man," Michal said, his voice taking that moment
to break into a high-pitched squeak. He laughed at himself.

"Johan, take care of them," Serge said, his large hand lingered on
Doggett's shoulder.

"You know I will," Doggett said. "You'll come back with help. In any
event, my friend, you are needed more out there."

Serge kissed Johan on both cheeks and then slowly moved over to join
the small group that was to contact the partisans.

From the tunnel, the small group took one look back. Mulder prayed he
would return with help for the ghetto fighters. He believed they had a
chance to save at least a few. They would have to break through the
wall at several places to allow as many of the ghetto fighters to
escape as possible. To do that they needed help from the outside...

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

There was no way to stay dry or clean in the sewers now. Before there
had been narrow ledges that had been used to inspect the tunnels, now
wastewater lapped dangerously high. The Nazis had taken to not only
gassing the tunnels, but flooding them as well.

Alec took Mulder's hand and firmly directed it to his belt. He said,
"Serge, hang on to Mulder. Each of you hold onto the person in front
of you. Yell if you feel anyone slipping and if you manage to fall,
don't open your mouth. That water will kill you."Several bloated rats
floated by. Alec mumbled, "Hell of a place where even the rats aren't
safe in the sewers."

The journey seemed mythic, mile after mile of slick, stone lined
passages. As they reached a low slope in the sewers, a rush of water
hit them. Alec yelled, "Hang on!"

Grabbing the narrow ridge that lined the sewer, Alec's quick reflexes
saved him and his lovers from losing their footing. Serge tried to
anchor Mulder and Alec with his greater strength. A high-pitched
scream sounded and Serge turned to see what was wrong.

Jedrick's voice screamed, "Danica!"

As powerful as Danica's spirit was, she was tiny and the water had
pulled her down. One short scream and then she was beneath the black
vile depths of the flooded sewers. Serge strained to hold onto the
wall with one hand and hold onto Jedrick with the other as the young
Pole searched desperately for his bride.

Danica must already have been swept beyond Jedrick's reach. He yelled
her name as he broke away from Serge's support. Mulder wriggled out
from between Alec and Serge. He had been a strong swimmer at the
university and he was fearless in the water. He dived into the
repugnant sewer.

Alec's fingers dug into Serge's arm. He trembled now, the man people
said had nerves of steel.

Mulder's head appeared once, eyes wild as he gasped for breath,
gagging from the intense stench. Alec shouted, "Mulder, give up. She's
lost!"

Scornful of the cry, Mulder took a deep breath despite the mixture of
sewer odors and the traces of gas that drifted from the heart of the
ghetto. He dived beneath again as confidently as when he once swam on
the college team.

Serge felt Alec's head lean heavily against his shoulder. He was
shocked to hear the deep sob rip from his beloved's chest. He thought
that the hard life that Alec lived had dammed his tears forever.

Straining his eyes, Serge thought he saw a flash of white in the
water. It could have been anything, but for some reason he reached
quickly and captured it.

His nerves frayed by the struggle, Serge bellowed as the object closed
like a trap around his wrist. Then he realized and yelled, "Alec, hold
onto me!"

Jedrick bobbed up from the water, noisily expelling water from his
nostrils. He was about to dive again when Serge yelled, "Wait"

Using all his strength, Walter hauled the struggling figures from the
grip of the waters. Mulder came first, but Danica was clinging to him.
Her face was as white as a lily in the near total darkness. Her hair
had escaped its strict bun and was the red of drying blood as Alec
aimed his flashlight in her direction.

To Serge's relief, the wan figure struggled and gasped for breath.
Dragging her almost unconscious body with them, they followed Alec as
he wiggled into a narrow and higher tunnel.

The sewer narrowed and more than once, Serge was afraid that his
greater bulk was caught. Each time however, he freed himself after a
brief struggle. He had never thought of Alec as particularly brave,
but to think of how many times he had made this journey alone...

Beneath the manhole, Serge was eager to push forward into the
daylight. If he never went underground again, it would be too soon.

"What are we waiting for?" Mulder hissed, shivering violently.

"Shh, I hear something," Alec said. He struggled to get his gun out of
the waterproof bag.

The others followed suit. Alec raised the lid and peered out. "Damn,
there's a policeman outside."

The five Jews huddled in the sewer until Serge gently said, "Alec, if
we stay here much longer, they will not need to shoot us; we will die
of the cold."

"All right," Alec agreed. He said, "Wait until you hear me yell."

Moving fast as his namesake, Alec climbed out of the sewer. Serge
reached up to catch the lid. He was startled to see Alec running
straight to the Polish policeman. To his even greater surprise, the
man accompanied Alec deeper into the alley. The pair sat for a moment
on a stoop then the policeman appeared to be napping. Alec pulled the
man's cap lower and wiped his hands on the uniform. He said, "Come
ahead."

Passing the policeman, Serge could see the gaping slash cut across the
man's throat. He must not have believed a Jew would have the nerve to
kill him in the middle of Warsaw.

No outcry sounded as Alec led them toward the first contact point, a
German woman who was a sympathizer. Serge felt nervous around the
woman, who looked like a doll made of china with her golden hair and
blue eyes. She made sympathetic noises at Danica's plight and said,
"Of course, she cannot go on like this, you foolish men. Come, dear
girl, you need a hot bath and a rest. I can take you to the forest to
join these men later."

"It's not a good idea," Alec said. He was tense as usual, eyes moving
everywhere.

Danica coughed and staggered. She said, "I think she's right. I will
slow you down."

"No one suspects me," the woman said. "My uncle, the bastard, is a
Nazi Sturmbannfuher!" She guided Danica up the stairs and said, "Soup
is in the kitchen. There are clothes that should fit you in the
sitting room."

Jedrick said, "I think Adelaide is correct. Danica needs to rest. If
she gets pneumonia in the woods, there will be no treatment. I
could..."

Sharply, Mulder said, "The resistance knows you and trusts you. You
can't stay behind."

Brown eyes looked at Mulder soulfully, but the ZOB leader didn't
relent. At last, Jedrick said, "All right. I trust Adelaide."

The men stripped off their stinking clothing and stuffed it into the
box for the incinerator. One at time they washed from head to foot in
the small bathroom before dressing in the sturdy clothing provided by
the German woman. By the time that Serge had dressed, Alec was on his
second bowl of the cabbage soup. Serge smiled at the way one of his
lover's arms surrounded the bowl protectively.

"No one's going to take your food, Alec," Serge teased.

"Shut up and eat," Alec said, grumpily. "Better cabbage than words in
an empty mouth."

With a look around, Mulder leaned close and wryly said, "That's not
what you wanted in my mouth a few weeks ago."

A wordless growl responded to that jibe. Alec broke off a hunk of
bread and stuffed it in his mouth. He didn't seem relieved at all to
be out of the sewer.

After the hurried meal, the men were ready to leave. They would join
the farmers and brush cutters who had entered Warsaw to deliver their
goods at dusk.

As Jedrick headed up the stairs to check on Danica, Alec said, "Hurry
with that. We must keep to the schedule."

"Easy for you to say, it's not your wife that we are leaving behind,"
Jedrick said.

Serge observed that Jedrick's hair was mussed and his lips kiss red
when he came down the stairs. Was there a time when he thought Danica
Schuelke was prim? Well, they had all changed with this war.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

The journey out of the city went without a hitch. The cart they
followed was a daily sight for the guards and the diversion that
Adelaide had arranged was splendid. She and her fiancee had a loud
fight, competed with slapping and then as her beleaguered looking
boyfriend tried to hold her off, her buttons came undone and her
splendid heavy breasts swung loose. Not many men would have been able
to resist looking at that sight.

By the time that the furor died down, the four men had passed beyond
the gate. Serge could feel sweat running down his back and it felt as
if there was a target painted between his shoulder blades. However,
they had no problems. The crowd of exiting woodsmen and farmer thinned
as they left the city farther behind. Finally, the cart rumbled off
down a poor excuse for a road. The Polish resistance worker said, "Go
with God." He looked a bit puzzled and then said, "Surely if there is
a God, he must have tears for all of us right now. Take care."

Bartlomiej Gnacinski looked more like a University student than one of
the local heads of the Polish resistance. Jedrick greeted him warmly
and he smiled wryly at Alec, commenting, "So you are joining us at
last, Rat."

"Maybe," Alec said. He pulled Serge and Mulder forward and said,
"These men are my friends."

"And mine too," Jedrick added.

"We need your help," Mulder said.

"Yes, I know, I have a few ideas," Gnacinski said. He said, "Let's
move to my camp."

Deep into the night, the men talked...argued more like it. Gnacinski
was as passionate as Mulder was, but a more practical man. He held the
maps open as Mulder jabbed his fingers at places where he believed
that determined outside help could breach the walls.

"We will need explosives, money to buy them," Gnacinski said. He
looked at Alec who stared off into space for a while.

Finally, Alec said, "All right." Dropping his trousers, Alec bent to
untie a small pouch he had tied to one thigh.

Serge couldn't help gasping as a handful of diamonds spilled over the
map. "Alec, where did you get those?"

"The fat Sturmscharfuhrer who had these did not need them any longer,"
Alec replied. "Bled like a stuck pig."

Sometimes, Serge wondered how Alec would ever adjust to life after the
war. He closed his eyes, wearily imagining a grocer with a knife at
his throat for having a thumb on the scale, a baker drowned in his vat
of dough for adding sawdust to the batter for weight. The one thing he
could not imagine was life without his lover. Casting a proud eye on
Mulder, he added, 'not either of them'.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

As the men clustered around the maps and discussed how big a charge it
would take to blow a hole in the ghetto wall, Ira Chorzempa ran into
the camp, looking distraught. He was one of the urban contacts, a
milkman who drove from the country to the city each day save Sunday.

"They have taken Adelaide Backer! She has killed herself in Gestapo
hands!" the young milkman said.

The four escapees looked at each other before Jedrick asked, "What
about the other woman? The one who was staying with her?"

"I don't know...they found no one. She must have escaped," Chorzempa
said.

Jedrick was already running from the tent before Serge could catch
him. It took Mulder's long legs to catch him. Mulder said, "You and I
will go look for her."

(Continued in part 6)

Crying of the Stones (Slash) by Ursula

Part 6 See part 0 for header information.


"No," Alec said. "I'll go. If anyone can get in and out, it's I."

Reaching over, Alec mussed Jedrick's hair and said affectionately, "I
will bring back your wife."

"We could all go," Mulder said.

"No," Serge said, for once not letting the other take the lead. "That
would be more dangerous. Alec is the one who is the expert. He would
best go by himself, but I know that Jedrick wouldn't allow that.
Better he go with a plan than to run off like a lovesick fool."

Half the night, Mulder argued. He loved Danica like a sister, he said,
he couldn't abandon her.

Finally, Alec used the one argument that was likely to have an impact.
He swung his fist in one blow like a cobra striking and Mulder
crumpled to the ground. Serge caught him and observed, "I think you
broke his nose."

"I'll kiss it better when I come back," Alec said. He grinned and
said, "Serge, walk with me to the edge of the forest. But before we
go..."

Flinging his arms around his lover, Alec said, "You know I will always
come back to you. If not in this life then in the next."

"Don't say such things," Serge scolded, shivering as if someone had
walked on his grave.

"Promise me that you will always love me and you will always know me
no matter what guise I wear," Alec said.

"Always, always, and forever," Serge said.

The two walked out of the rough canvas shelter. Proud of his manhood,
not wanting to burden Alec with his tears, Serge stayed stoically
quiet until Alec and Jedrick passed from his sight and out of range of
hearing. That was when he crashed to his knees and wept, his hands
digging in the leafy loam of the forest floor.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

"I could do this alone," Jedrick said. He looked at Alec and said, "My
friend, my brother, you don't have to take care of me this way."

"I choose," Alec said. "As you chose to defy your father and take care
of me."

"What people use to say about you, my friend, how could they be so
wrong?" Jedrick asked.

"They weren't wrong," Alec said. "I do what it takes to survive."

"How can you say that when you are risking your life to save Danica?"
Jedrick asked.

"I'm risking my life to keep Mulder from doing the same thing with
less skill and to keep your skinny ass alive. I don't give a damn for
most people, but you, Mulder, my Serge, and even Danica no matter how
I disguise it, you are part of me," Alec said.

"That does not explain what you did for the children," Jedrick said.

"Eh, the children," Alec said, "Their families paid to get them to
sympathetic farmers."

"All of them?" Jedrick asked.

"So I speculated a little. I don't really believe in that old man up
there, but just in case, I put a few good deeds in his pocket, a bribe
so to speak," Alec replied.

"My friend, you are a liar and a thief. I love you with whatever part
of my soul that is not Danica's,' Jedrick said.

Alec grinned at him and they walked out on the road to find the
milkman who would smuggle them back into the city.

Ira Chorzempa was very nervous. They met him near his farm where he
collected not only his milk, but also that of several smaller dairy
farmers. Despite the fact that he had smuggled in machine guns and
worse before, he was pale and his sweat soaked through his shirt.

"Pinch your cheeks to put some color in them, my friend," Alec said.
"The milk wagon is perfect for smuggling. When was the last time that
any of the guards even pretended to search your wagon? A pint of
cream, a block of cheese and they are your friends for life."

"True, true," Chorzempa said. "I'll be fine by the time we reach the
gate. Now, into the false bottom, my friends."

The trip was not one for pleasure. They felt every jolt from the
deeply rutted roads. Jedrick tried to clear his mind. He wanted to
believe his Danica had escaped, but he was losing his faith. He
thought he would give everything just to see her again.

Once in the city, Chorzempa let them out in a dark alley. It was
simple enough to trigger the catch and roll out, using the wagon to
cover their passage.

Jedrick realized that he had no real plan to find Danica. For all he
knew she had made her way back into the ghetto which against all odds
was still standing. If he could make contact with the ZOB fighters who
continued to pose as Aryan outside the ghetto, maybe one would know
where Danica was hiding.

Finally, he said, "Alec, we must check Gestapo headquarters and see if
they have her."

"Oh, that's a fine idea! And then what? See if there is a lion left in
the zoo to stick our heads in his jaws?" Alec replied.

"I have to know," Jedrick said.

"All right, but you must not show your feelings, Jedrick. You must be
very brave. If they have killed her, well, never mind. You would know
if she was dead as I would know if Serge or Mulder was gone," Alec
said.

"Bless you, my friend," Jeff said. They proceeded to the Gestapo
headquarters.

As usual, the square was not empty although people hurried by for the
most part. Only the most morbid would linger where the screams of the
tortured prisoners sounded day and night.

From the scaffold in front of the headquarters, several bodies
dangled. Each wore a placard declaring their crimes.

Jeff at first did not recognize Adelaide. He only saw that there were
two women among the row of bodies. Alec said, "That one on the left is
Adelaide. The other one is Lubomyra; poor girl was only seventeen, but
so brave."

Swallowing his bile, Jedrick tried not to look at what had been a
beautiful, vibrant woman and was now a hideously blackened corpse.
Alec grimaced and said, "You would think that they would at least
respect their own dead. I'm glad she kept the poison. She didn't
suffer."

"Did you..." Jedrick begin, then silenced as German soldiers marched
by. "She was your lover at some point, I heard at the camp."

"Adelaide was wonderful," Alec said, "Many loved her."

Accepting that, Jedrick almost forgot his conversion to say a
Christian prayer for Adelaide's soul. Catching himself in time with a
rueful apology to Rabbi Wolfem, Jedrick wondered if it was proper to
say Kaddish for a Christian woman who had died for the Jews?

Before he could astound Alec with this question, Alec pulled him to
the side and said, "Quickly, I spotted someone I know."

Marya was another blonde woman, but of a different type than earthy
Adelaide. She was Aryan, but had been married to a Jew before the
Nuremberg laws dissolved her marriage. She had escaped persecution by
becoming the mistress of one of the Nazi officers. Jedrick had often
met the woman at his father's parties without knowing that she was
part of the underground. She seemed so cool and distant as if nothing
could disturb her pale beauty.

It had surprised the hell out of Jedrick when he met Marya at a
resistance meeting. She was dressed in widow's weeds, a veil
concealing her face. She had lifted the veil and stared at him with
her icy blue eyes. "Well, I'm shocked. Spindo's little mouse runs with
his rat now?"

As it turned out, Marya used her access to information to provide both
Polish and Jewish resistance notice of oncoming actions. Apparently,
her Nazi officer was so besotted he never imagined his mistress was
passing information to the enemy.

Falling into step with the blonde woman, Alec said, "Marya, we need to
know about Danica. Have you heard what has happened to her?"

Not even glancing at them, Marya said, "Wyrobek's been hiding her, but
one of the other people taken did not use their pill in time. I'm
going to warn Zamosc and the others. You go to Wyrobek and get them
out of Warsaw."

Her heels clicking off in the distance, Marya looked like any
fashionable woman, but she was a hero.

As they approached Zamosc's home, Alec pulled Jedrick into the shelter
of a doorway and down to sit on the stoops. Nonchalantly, Alec took
some dice from his pocket and threw them, calling the numbers as if he
were gambling.

"I won again, you fool," Alec called.

"The dice are loaded!" Jedrick said, playing along.

The march of booted feet reached Jedrick well after Alec's heightened
senses had alerted him. His heart was racing as he bowed his curly
hair over the dice. He was afraid that he would be spotted. Surely
they had noted his disappearance, although the underground had said
nothing of his father's death. Alec patted his arm calmly.

However, all concern for his own safety faded as Jedrick saw the small
group of prisoners. Most of the resistance workers from Zamosc's house
stumbled along. To his horror, he saw Danica in the midst of them. Her
head was bleeding and there were smears of blood over the light
colored dress she was wearing.

Zamosc himself, a handsome Aryan-looking man who had to convert to
Judaism because his mother had been German was not with his workers.
Jedrick thought he might have escaped until he saw Ukrainian soldiers
dragging several bodies. He recognized the blond curls that had made
it seem so unbelievable to the Germans and Poles that Zamosc was half
Jewish. He swallowed, feeling faint with shock.

After the troop had passed, Jedrick and Alec followed stealthily. They
were helpless to do anything to save their companions. There were too
many soldiers and they took the prisoners to the heavily guarded SS
headquarters.

Two days passed and Jedrick thought he would go insane waiting to hear
if Danica was still alive. He knew that the captives were being
tortured and that two of the wounded had died. He was waiting with
Alec when a truck already half loaded with Jews rumbled to the prison.
When the lesser prisoners were led forward to join the others,
Danica's red hair was like a flame amid the dark. She stepped up to
the truck, proudly, and immediately picked up a wailing child. Her
face was so pure, so calm that she might have been going for a ride to
the country.

The truck moved slowly toward the train yard. Jedrick felt Alec
tugging on his arm, but he shrugged off the grip. As the truck gained
speed, he started to run. He had been quite a good runner at the
college. His long legs pelted in rhythm and all he could see was
Danica.

The soldiers were too startled to stop him and he managed to get a
hand on the rail of the truck. A soldier cursed and hit him, saying,
"What are you doing?"

"I want to go with my wife," Jedrick said, "I am a Jew. I am a Jew!"

Someone from the crowd yelled, "No, he isn't! That's Karl Spindo's
son, Doctor Spindo! Jedrick come away from there! Have you gone mad?
He is German, not a Jew, not even a Pole."

The guard hesitated. He was a brutal ox of a man, his dull face
expressing fear at being punished for the transgression of striking a
member of the superior race.

"They are wrong! I am Jewish," Jedrick reasserted. "The woman with the
red hair is my wife."

Finally, one bold soldier pulled down Jedrick's trousers and saw the
circumcision. He said, "He is a Jew."

A moment later, Jedrick, brutally beaten, was tossed in the truck.
Danica held him up, the child still clinging to her leg. "Jedrick,
why?" she asked.

"Entreat me not to leave you and to return from following after thee;
for whither thou goest I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will
lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God," Jedrick
said.

Jedrick's arms went around Danica and as the truck rumbled to toward
the train tracks, he did not regret his decision. They were together.
Perhaps together, they could survive. More likely they would perish,
but while they were in each other's arms, he was content.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

'How could he have slipped away so quickly?' Alec wondered.

One moment, Jedrick was but a hand-length in front of him, and the
next he was gone. The fool!

Alec thought he had given his friend a lesson or two about life. He
couldn't understand the action at all. As they had struggled to keep
up with the truck, Alec had been thinking about ways to keep Danica
off the train. If he could get to the rooftop across from Zamosc's
house, there were guns and explosives there. Perhaps, he could set a
charge that would distract the guards. He expected that many of the
prisoners would take advantage of the diversion. The Jews that were
left were hardened fighters or at least the most adept survivors. In
the confusion, some would escape and Alec was confident that he could
get Schuelke away.

Well, now he would just have to get them both out. Alec took a deep
breath, unwilling to admit that he had any doubt that he could
accomplish his rescue mission.

As he strolled casually through the street toward Zamosc's house,
Alec's arm was grabbed. He snarled and turned, but before he could
stick his attacker with one of his knives, the man hissed, "I happen
to know that I can prove you are a Jew."

It was Myro Levkovitch, a Ukrainian thug with whom he had once made an
alliance when Spindo had been after him. Myro didn't care to have
anyone know his vice so he had been pleased enough to have Alec visit
him secretly.

"I need you," Myro said. "It's been so long."

"Later, I'll come back. I have to help my friends," Alec said.

"Since when do you have friends?" Myro said. "Come, my pretty one. The
ones you speak about are already dead. Afterwards, I can keep you safe
and put some meat back on those bones. I'll hide you in a lovely
little hiding hole and no one will trouble you. All you will have to
do is eat chocolate all day and make love to me all night."

"Myro, you must listen," Alec said.

"No, you must listen. Before, I know that you used me. Now, it would
be on my terms. I will have you whenever I want. However I want,"

"Oh, all right," Alec said. "I suppose you are right. That sounds very
good to me. I've missed you, Myro."

Allowing himself to be led down the alley, Alec walked as if he was
glad enough for the chance to escape the street. Perhaps there would
have been time when he would have been happy with the bargain. Now,
however calm his exterior, his heart was beating very fast. The
moments were ticking away while this lust-sick fool delayed him.

There was no chance to do anything until they reached Myro's house, a
ramshackle affair along the ghetto wall. Alec could smell the smoke
and gas still puffing from beyond the wall. The people passing by had
their mouths and noses covered with scarves or handkerchiefs, but Alec
was sure they could still smell the charnel house odor.

As soon as they were in the door, Myro was all over him, pawing him
and moaning. Alec shuddered with disgust. He had thought he could go
through with this. After Myro fucked him, the man always fell dead
asleep. Alec thought he could escape easily then, but all he could
think about was his lovers. His flesh now seemed for the first time in
his life something that was clean, washed with the love of his two
good men. He couldn't bear to just lie down and submit to being used
now.

Smiling, Alec said, "You remember, a bath first, Myro. I'll wash you,
all the good parts."

"I know, I know," Myro said. "I am glad you have returned to your
senses."

The man was so eager that he struggled with his boots, hopping about
and cursing. Alec saw his chance as the man's trousers dropped and
entangled his legs. He grabbed a lamp off a little table and clouted
the hard skull of his would be lover. It took two blows to drop Myro.
The man was still breathing when Alec rifled his clothing to steal his
wallet. Waste not, want not, as Spindo Sr. had often said.

The journey to the train station seemed to take hours. Alec assured
himself that the trains never left on schedule. There were always
struggles or the sadistic games the Nazis played. He would be in time.

But he was not.

The train was pulling out of sight. The train yard held a few crumpled
bodies, some luggage left behind. As Alec put his hands in his pockets
to walk away, he was blind with tears. He didn't know what to do.

How could Alec face Mulder to tell him he had failed and lost Danica?

Remembering the first time he had seen Danica, Alec drew his breath.
When he'd entered the meeting hall, his eyes had been caught first by
his lover, Serge, who had frowned, at him, wondering no doubt what he
was doing there. Then Alec had looked up at the stage.

Mulder was there and he seemed to glow in the gaslight of the old
meeting hall. He was laughing and Danica Schuelke had been beside him,
her small white hand on his arm, her face like a rose lifted to the
sun of his existence. Alec had slowly released his breath, angry
suddenly.

Not for him, Alec had told himself. Never such a man for him. It was a
wonder that Serge could care for him. Why did his soul yearn for this
exotic creature, well educated, clever, and so passionate?

Instead of fleecing the pockets of the affluent Jews who came to the
meeting, Alec had taken a seat where he could watch Mulder. Every time
that Danica touched the man, Alec scowled. Everyone said that she was
too much her father's daughter to ever settle down with a man, but
Mulder was no ordinary man.

Only when Alec realized he was sharing Serge with Mulder had he
realized he was mistaken about the relationship between the tall,
foreign Jew and the little Polish firebrand. They might be soul mates,
but Mulder was not a man for a woman's body.

Later, Danica had met Jedrick again for the first time since the
university. What a shock it had been the first time that Alec met her
in Jedrick's house! The prim Doctor Schuelke had looked different,
clad only in a loose robe with her red hair like autumn leaves burning
across the white satin.

How strange that he once resented her! Now, Alec was nearly as worried
about her as he was about Jedrick, his best friend.

His foot hit a bundle and Alec was so lost in thought that he cried
out in surprise when what looked like old blankets and coats
whimpered.

A baby? A baby surviving all of this?

Two of the soldiers were quarreling over some loot left by the
departed prisoners. They were yelling so loud that no one could look
at anything else . With a blas look, Alec scooped up the bundle. He
might not be able to save Danica and Jedrick, but this infant would
live!

Using the remains of his contacts, Alec smuggled himself and the baby
from the walls. He knew where he would take the little girl. There was
an orphanage with truly blessed sisters. More than one of the Polish
orphans had once had a Jewish name. The head nun, Sister Malgorzata,
would keep the scraps of paper that were stuffed in the bundle. She
said that she would reunite the orphans with family if she could.
Surely, God would not want her to torture a suffering people by
withholding the survivors.

The faith of the nun and her kiss on his cheek sustained Alec and made
him decide. He would make contact and see if he could trace Jedrick
and Danica to one of the camps. Doctors were still valued and, in any
case, the two were strong and healthy. They would pass the first
selection for workers.

When Alec returned to his lovers, it would be with Danica and Jedrick.
He would prove that he was worthy of the love of two good men.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

The band of Russian soldiers shoveled the soup into their mouths and
soaked hard lumps of bread in the watery food to soften them. Alec had
been separated from his partisan group when he had stumbled into the
midst of the soldiers. There were more and more of these ill-equipped
soldiers wandering in Poland, signs of the tide of defeat that was
slowly eating away at the Nazi hold.

(Continued in part 7)

Crying of the Stones (Slash) by Ursula

Part 7
See part 0 for header information.


"Do you think the Americans will make a difference?" asked Siamko.

"Eh, maybe," Alec said. Sometimes the Americans seemed like just
another story. Only the American goods that made it onto the black
market persuaded him that they were real. Of course, Mulder had been
to that mythic land, but Mulder was fanciful, a good fighter, but a
dreamer nonetheless.

The camp settled down. They had been lingering in the area for the
same reason that Alec was. They also hoped to help their imprisoned
comrades in Treblinka. Siamko had a little brother in the
concentration camp.

Alec was sure that Jedrick and Danica were still alive. He had managed
to get word inside with a sympathizer, a man who supplied the Nazis
with potatoes. The seemingly dull-eyed ethnic German harbored sharp
eyes and a soul for justice. The man took incredible risks, not only
smuggling notes between the camp and the resistance, but also
smuggling weapons into the camp a piece at a time.

The potato vodka he manufactured made him a popular man and Niklas
Knopf came and went without suspicion. He cursed and wept in private
for every smile he pasted on his face when in the camp.

Crawling into the tent he was sharing with five Russians, Alec
reflected that at least he was warm. He had also persuaded the men to
allow him to delouse them with vinegar and a strong metal comb. Of
course, now they called him Louse in playful mockery of his obsession
with cleanliness, but that was worth the trouble to avoid suspicion.
He was fortunate that these men had grown up in a mostly Jewish
village. They were not deep thinkers and saw nothing too different
about the people with whom they had grown up.

His belly full, weary from the day's efforts, for once, Alec's senses
failed him. He woke to shouts and shooting. By the time he fought free
of his friend's bodies and the tent, it was too late to fight.
Soldiers from the camp had surrounded them.

"Any Jews here?" a Nazi officer growled.

"What do you think?" said Siamko. "Do you smell a dirty Jew here?
Everyone knows they harbor typhoid. Jews and rats, no difference."

The Nazi scanned the faces, but the men in this troop were all very
Aryan. Alec gazed back calmly, turning his face to reflect the light
of the burning tent. His green eyes and Aryan features inherited from
his unknown father stood him good stead. If his mother had not scraped
the coin together for a bris, Alec might have safely passed to the
Aryan side as soon as he realized the Nazi agenda.

Shrugging, the officer turned away and said, "Bring them to the camp.
They look well fed and we need some good workers."

Alec had seen hell from a distance, but now he lived in it. The
Russian side of the camp was a little better than the Jewish side, but
it was still like waking each day in a grave. At first, the smell had
made Alec gag constantly, but now he was inured.

As clever as always, Alec had made himself very useful. One thing he
knew was diamonds and so had quickly gained a place sorting them. He
also quickly connected with the black market. It took every bit of
survival instinct that his hard life had given to him to avoid
detection and being shot for posing as a Russian, but his command of
language and accent served him well. His Russian friends remained
loyal and no one betrayed him. Shuffling around during inspections
covered the evidence of his faith.

His strength however did not serve him well. As Alec and the other
leaders plotted a desperate rebellion, one of the Capos who disliked
him selected him and five of the Russians who had been captured with
him for another camp. Sobibor was even a worse annex of hell than
Treblinka. Alec had heard that few survived more than a few weeks. It
did not even keep skilled workers as most of the prisoners 'processed'
through the death camp lacked any of the material harvested from those
who had been sent directly from the outside to the camp. However,
there was still a place to sort the pitiful goods that came with the
decreasing transports of Jews, gypsies, and other undesirables.

Alec managed to sneak word to Jedrick and Danica, still working in the
infirmary before he was forced into a truck to go to the forsaken
village of Sobibor.

This time, Alec's luck had finally run out. He was chosen as a
sonderkommandos, the one who processed the living and dead for the gas
chambers. He thought that he had never heard so many languages, seen
so many foreign Jews. What madness made the Nazis still waste their
efforts in gathering and killing Jews when they were, if the
underground was correct, losing the war.

Certainly, the German soldiers in the camp seemed like some bizarre
travesty of an army. There were soldiers of fifteen and sixteen.
Soldiers of sixty and even older. There were maimed and half-mad men
who twitched with the effects of gas or shell shock.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

Six weeks after the transfer, Alec could hardly recognize himself or
his friend, Siamko. The Russian growled, "It is true. The Nazis are
losing on all fronts. My army is pushing into Poland. The Nazis are
finally afraid. They are going to raze the camp. We must escape. We
must live to tell this story."

Shuddering, Alec remembered one old woman whose long gray hair he had
to cut. She had reached toward him and then stopped herself. She said,
"You must tell them, boy. You must tell them what happened here.
Surely, if we all perish, even the stones will weep. Even the stones
will cry out our story."

Even stripped of her clothing and shorn of her hair, the woman had
gone to the gas chambers like a queen. Her hands were clasped in the
hands of her daughters and Alec wept tears that he thought he could no
longer cry at such a waste of courage.

"Tonight," Alec said. "Tomorrow may be too late."

His soul burned as Alec thought of the coming battle. He did not
believe he would survive; but to fight again, to shatter the smug
belief in the Nazis, that was to live.

If only Alec could see his lovers one more time. He hoped they were
well and that they were good to each other. Stumbling over the
unfamiliar words of a prayer, Alec thought of all of his friends, of
Jedrick and Danica who should be considering nothing more serious than
the name of their first born child, of little Michal and Rabbi
Wolfram, and of all the fallen heroes of the Warsaw Ghetto fighters.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

"You're sure that he is here?" Mulder asked for the tenth time.

"Yes, yes, we are in communication with several men in the camp. Your
Alec was recognized although he is hiding among Russians, passing for
one of them," Bazyli said. "One of your Jewish resistance workers
spotted him just two days ago."

"He's alive," Serge said with relief.

For months, they had been searching. Finally, word led them here after
they were unable to find word of Danica and Jedrick anywhere. Alec had
become well known in the underground for his efforts. It would have
surprised him to learn he had become a legend to his people after
living for so long as an outcast.

'He would probably laugh', thought Serge. He willed himself to believe
that he would one day see the crinkle over his lover's nose and see
the green eyes dance with mischief. If Alec survived, he could steal
the British queen's jewels and Serge would not say a word.

It felt like hovering over a nest that was invaded by snakes. There
was little they could do to actively help the prisoners in the camp.
Every day the sky was blackened with greasy smoke so foul that there
was no way that anyone could not have known what was happening in the
camp. Every day shots rang out in the woods.

As Mulder and Serge waited to support the escaping prisoners, they
trembled inside although their hands were steady on their rifles. Alec
knew they were there. They had managed to sneak him a note.

The return note with its many spelling errors said, "What are you
doing here? Danica and Jedrick are in Treblinka."

Serge had offered to stay here to help Alec if Mulder wished to try to
link to the resistance outside of Treblinka. To his surprise, Mulder
had shaken his head and said, "One at a time. We will get Alec. We are
here. He is alive. When we are together, we will go to Treblinka. They
cannot shut down such an enormous killing center so easily. There will
be time."

A series of explosions from the camp told them that it had started. It
was hard to endure in the woods, picking off searching Nazis in one
place before moving to the rendezvous point.

Sobibor was burning. Serge held Mulder's hand for a moment, covered by
darkness. Now, if Alec had survived, he knew to head here. They would
fade back into the woods and live to fight again.

Even with the meager support of the resistance forces, not many of the
sonderkommandos made it out. Serge had faith though. Not so much in
God who seemed to have forgotten them, but in Alec's cleverness and
will to survive.

Finally, a few men ran to the spot. The tough Russians had fought as a
unit and were comparatively well armed. Serge forgot every prejudice
he had ever had against the foreigners. All he knew was these men had
kept Alec alive for him.

His Alec was covered from head to foot in blood. Black ashes stuck to
him. With his shorn head and bony face, he looked like something
hardly human, but the green eyes burned from behind the gore and
filth.

As Mulder reached for him, Alec gasped, "No time, quick, let's get out
of here."

The flight was a thing of terror to only compare with the struggle to
get through the sewer when they escaped the ghetto. Dogs barked as the
terrible canines trailed the escapees. There were gunshots and
screams.

The small group stood and fought off Nazis twice, once making Nazis
retreat as they realized these were trained soldiers, not pitiful
desperate escapees. They fought their way clear and then fled for the
Parczew forest, where they knew they had shelter and support.

The camp in the forest was almost like home now. Alec had stripped and
washed at the first stream that was not contaminated with ashes. He
had changed into the warm clothing that was supplied him and sipped
the canteen of soup that Serge had brought hopefully along.

Although Alec finally permitted them to embrace him after they had
checked his bone thin body for lice once more, he was silent. He had
no jokes, no curses; his eyes so brilliant and expressive seemed lost.

As they entered the camp, Serge said, "Now we are safe."

"You must go get Danica and Jedrick," Alec said. "I know they are
alive. I saw them just a little over a month ago."

"We will," Mulder said. "We will just rest here a little while."

"Alec," Mulder said, but his words were lost as his lover fainted to
the ground.

CRYINGOFTHESTONES

The doctor said, "He is strong, but I don't know. Some of the ones
that I have seen from the camps seem healthy one moment and the next
they keel over dead. It is as if after fighting so long to survive,
once the struggle is over, they have nothing more left."

"He's not going to die," Mulder said.

Serge was not so sure. In Alec's eyes, he saw something that he never
expected to see, utter despair and surrender.  Mulder pulled on his
arm and dragged him to the lean-to they had made for shelter.

Alec's face was again turned to the interwoven branches covered by
tattered canvas that formed the shelter. The sunlight that shone
through the trees was tinged with green. It made Alec seem pale as a
naiad and his uncertain colored eyes were forest colored.

"Did you eat all of the soup?" Mulder asked, although it was evident
that Alec had not.

Serge raised his lover up in his arms. He could see the stubble of
hair pushing out from the shorn scalp. It reminded him of the first
flowers of the spring that stubbornly bloom in the melting snows. He
kissed the prickles of hair and said, "We'll feed you if you are too
tired."

Wearily, Alec shook his head and said, "You don't have to pretend any
longer."

"Pretend?" Serge asked, lifting an eyebrow at Mulder who knelt and
drew Alec's hand into his.

"That you care about me," Alec said.

"We love you," Mulder said.

"Always," Serge said. "Are you angry with us because we could not find
you sooner?"

"No, of course not," Alec said, his frown indenting the v line over
his nose. "I would have told you not to look. It was dangerous."

"Then why are you upset with us?" Mulder asked.

"I failed you," Alec said.

"What?" Mulder asked.

"I didn't bring her back to you, your Danica..." Alec said.

The sound that came from Mulder's chest was like all emotions in one
from bitter laughter to a sob and ending in a cry of rage. He said,
"You tried. I would not have expected you to follow them to the camps.
Oh, Alec, that was so brave and so...stupid."

Eyes that seemed too large for the ivory arrangement of bones that
framed them turned on Mulder. "I tried. I saw them at the Treblinka,
taking care of the ill, but then I was picked for Sobibor. I could not
escape until the revolt. Perhaps if we go back to Treblinka."

"It's gone," Mulder said gently. He kissed each finger of the
trembling hand, tears trailing down to anoint the almost transparent
flesh.

"Treblinka is gone?" Alec said. He fell silent as he tried to
comprehend.

"Razed to the earth," Mulder said. "They rebelled too, less
successfully. Only perhaps a dozen have survived of the less than two
hundred that escaped. I talked to one of them. The doctors were all
killed. The Nazis feared their education and wanted to be sure they
would never live to testify."

"So I have failed you," Alec said.

"No, no, my love," Mulder said. "I am so proud of you. I'm proud that
you survived. Proud that you tried to save Jedrick and Danica. Proud
that I am your lover."

Wounded eyes searched for the truth. Serge said, "You know what a
terrible liar our Mulder is. Believe him, Alec and eat your soup."

Alec nodded. As he sagged back into the supportive arms of his lover,
he said, "I know I will live. We will all live. And when we are free
again, I know where we must go."

"To America?" Serge asked.

"No," Alec said. "Mulder, Serge, promise me."

Paper-thin hands grabbed the lovers and Alec said, "Next year in
Jerusalem."

And so it was in due time.

The end



### The End ###