A Taste of Life IV - Intervention

Author: Jvantheterrible
Date: February 24th/25th, 2000
Rating: NC-17
Category: Sk/M
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Characters Chris Carter’s. Story mine.
Author’s Notes: I thought about this long and hard while I lay in bed last
night. Hope you like it. The bar, the Eagle, is actually located in Columbus,
Ohio, and I used to go there quite often to dance, years ago......but for
reasons of convenience (duh), I’ve put it in DC. I can do that...this is
FICTION. LMAO. (The Diva lives..that’s all I have to say about that. LMAO.)
Jay was my best friend, and we used to go dancing there all the time.
Check out our (amokeh’s and mine) website at:
www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum
Feedback: Rllnslvr@aol.com OR Jvantheterrible@yahoo.com

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

Mulder’s been more than restless lately. He put in for some much deserved
time off after Scully’s death, and he’s been spending quite a lot of that
time at my place. I don’t mind one bit; we’ve become quite close since all
that shit went down five weeks ago. I went back to work a week after the
funeral, because I have never been able to stay idle for too long. Fox, on
the other hand, seems......lost......without Scully. I don’t think that his
quest can stand the strain of losing his partner. He hasn’t mentioned word
one about anything to do with an X-File since it happened. I’ve suggested
that he go discuss things with Karen Cosseff, but he has no interest in
having his brain picked by a fellow head doctor, much less one associated
with the Bureau. He didn’t speak to me for two days after I brought it up the
last time, so I’ve decided not to go that route again.

All he wants to do is watch television or read a book, curled up on my couch,
waiting for me to come home from work. I don’t really have a problem with
that, except for the fact that I’m not used to Mulder wasting his beautifully
talented mind on being a couch potato. I can’t say that it has affected his
sex drive, though; he’s fucking insatiable when I do get home from the office
- pun intended. Just last night, I got home around 8:30 and there he was,
dinner ready and waiting, and it got pretty damn cold waiting for us. He
answered the door in nothing but a plain white apron and yanked the briefcase
out of my hand before I could even think about refusing, as if I would. Two
more minutes and his tongue was almost down my throat, my trenchcoat was on
the floor, and he had ruined yet another of my white dress shirts by ripping
it open to get to my flesh. I decided to go with the flow, and a few minutes
later, my pants, briefs, socks and shoes were hopelessly tangled in the apron
I pulled off of him, and we were going at it full force in the middle of the
living room floor.

Jesus, I get a shiver up and down my spine just thinking about it; and these
are not thoughts that belong in an Assistant Director’s mind while he is at
work. Which I am. Friday at last, and looking forward to another weekend with
my.....boyfriend? Lover? Suboordinate? I can’t stand to think of it that way,
but it’s true. Of course, if Fox doesn’t come back to work soon, he might not
be my suboordinate too much longer. He’s earned quite a bit of leave time
over the course of his career, but I’m not sure how much longer I can hold
the DD off. The upper levels all want to know how he’s progressing; despite
his nickname of "Spooky", he still has the best damn solve rate in my
department. Well, he DID, anyway. Shit. I suppose we’ll have to talk about
that this weekend. I take my wirerims off and rub the bridge of my nose,
instantly stressed at the idea of having a work-related discussion with
Mulder. While I’m lost in my thoughts, my cellphone rings. I snatch it out of
my coat pocket and growl, "Skinner."

"Hi, it’s me." Mulder; he must be fucking psychic or something. Spooky
indeed, I think, and I almost smile at the implication. I don’t smile,
though, because I can still hear the hurt in his voice; he just sounds
so.....far away, and......fragile. We are definitely going to talk this
weekend. That’s it, I’ve made up my mind at this very moment. No more wild
romping around my condo together to avoid the issue; I think that’s what he’s
been doing recently, and so far I haven’t minded, but it HAS been a month.

"Hi, how’s your day?" I ask him, hoping that he’s at least ventured out into
the world a little for a change.

"Not bad. Um, I’m going to go out for a while tonight, okay?" Game, set, AND
match, he’s going out. But he wants to go out alone?

"Where do you want to go? I can leave a little early from here, if you’d like
to go out to dinner or something - " he cuts me off, and I can feel the lines
deepen in my forehead immediately.

"- No, Walter, I mean, I was just going to go out for a while...alone." He
doesn’t say anything else, and now I am concerned. He hasn’t wanted to go
anywhere in four weeks, and all of a sudden, on a night when we have the next
two days off together, he wants to go out....alone. Jesus Christ, I am
sounding like some sort of....husband here. Fuck that.

"That’s fine, Mulder. You know, you don’t have to ask my permission, I mean,
Jesus." But I’m secretly relieved that he did.

"Okay, great. That’s great. Alright. Well, I’ll see you later then." He hangs
up the phone, and I can’t help it; I’m instantly worried. Something is wrong.
VERY wrong. And he’s not talking. He’s using his pouty (and talented) mouth
for several things, but talking is not one of them. And goddammit, we need to
talk. I check my watch as I put my phone back in my suit coat - it’s 3:00
now. I wonder where he’s planning on going.....

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

I get home around 8:00, and he’s gone already. He’s left me a note, though.
God, this is so strange; we must be having a relationship of some sort, but
what kind of relationship is it? I read the note as I head upstairs to change.

Walt:
I’ve been thinking alot, what with all this time off and everything! There’s
a few things I need to take care of. I’m sorry we haven’t talked more, but
thanks for being here for me. I appreciate it.

Mulder

Cryptic, I think as I pull off my FBI garb. I dress in black jeans, a black
turtleneck, and black boots, re-reading the note as I jog back downstairs.
This isn’t right; Mulder’s having some sort of problem. It was in his voice
on the phone earlier, and it’s in this note, too. I need to find him.
Tonight. I check my watch again; 8:20. I wonder if he’s still at his place;
everything in my mind is screaming, ‘Walter, don’t do this, he’s a big boy,
he can handle it,’ but my heart isn’t so sure. Christ, I am a mess. Well,
mess or not, I’m going to tail him, just to make sure. If anything were to
happen to him.......I grab my keys and my black leather jacket and set off to
find Mulder. My errant agent. My friend. My lover. I think he needs me more
than he knows. More than even I know.

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

The car’s dash clock says 9 sharp as I pull up outside Mulder’s building. I
can see his car parked on the street, and pull a few spaces up and park,
breathing a huge sigh of relief that I haven’t missed him. I feel like a real
asshole doing this, but I don’t know what in the hell I’m supposed to make of
everything; his tone during our conversation earlier, and then that note.
Shit, I’m a trained investigator, too; I haven’t ridden a desk for my whole
life. I care about this man. I know I have a lot of guilt over Scully’s
death, and I’m dealing with that, but as far as Mulder is concerned - well,
suffice it to say that I just respect the hell out of him.......and I missed
my greeting when I got home from work tonight. Enough said.

Half an hour later, he comes down and gets into his car. I can see him in my
rearview mirror; he looks.......good. He’s wearing jeans and a white shirt,
along with a black jacket similar to mine. I watch him to make sure he
doesn’t see me, but he’s obviously off in his own little world; he looks
around briefly, but doesn’t catch so much as a glimpse of me. He pulls out of
his space moments later, and after I allow a couple of cars between us, I
pull out as well. I still feel guilty for doing this, but I would feel even
worse if something were to happen to Fox. I have no idea where his head is
at, but I have this feeling in my gut.....gnawing at me.....I just have to
make sure he’s alright. Period.

He drives around the city for awhile, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going
anywhere in particular; I think he’s just wasting time, for some reason.
Finally, around 10:30, he pulls up in front of a nightclub and parks. The
club is the Eagle, and it’s all too familiar to me; I’ve gone in there a
couple of times myself - but only when I was feeling particularly lonely.
Nothing like a few hungry stares to make you feel better about yourself,
right? Right? But Fox? Here? After all we’ve been through the past several
weeks? And I thought I was worried before. Shit. I let him go in and several
moments pass before I get out of my car and follow him.

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

Jesus H. CHRIST this place is smokier than I remember. I don’t know if it’s
from the cigarettes or the dry ice, but it’s bad. Did I mention that the
Eagle is a gay bar? Well, it is. It’s very dark, the only light coming from
the timed laser light show hanging overhead, and there are gay male porn
movies showing all over the place; every wall is a different coupling, and
they’re all hot, big, and hard. No penetration, though......funny, because
some of the things you see in THIS place make those movies look tame. Ah, the
DC nightlife. Gotta’ love it. I see Mulder right away, up at the bar, and I
duck behind a drag queen with a really big wig, narrowly missing being
busted. The queen is looking up at me expectantly, a huge grin on her (his?)
face, and I look at her and smile while I say, "Sorry, saw one of my exes,"
and she just looks up at me and says, "Honey, you can use me ANYtime." She
laughs a laugh that is entirely too deep to belong to any woman, and I roll
my eyes and proceed deeper into the club, amongst the throngs of dancing
half-naked pretty boys, careful to keep an eye out for Mulder.

Fox is at the bar slamming what appears to be tequila, and I frown as I watch
him from a distance; I hope he isn’t planning on driving himself home after
this little escapade. Two well-tanned, muscular men with no shirts and nipple
rings try to invite me into a threesome on the dance floor, and I have to get
a little physical in order to pull myself away. The sole object of my
interest is currently getting himself buzzed at the bar, and I have no desire
to mess around with any of these other people. I watch Mulder take three more
shots of tequila, and I’m dying to go to him, but I can’t. It would dissolve
whatever trust he has in me at this point, and I have a horrible feeling that
this isn’t his final destination this evening.

Mulder is now leaning back against the bar, taking in the scene before him;
literally hundreds of gorgeous men, gyrating seductively on the dance floor,
and several of them have approached him. He just smiles and shakes his head,
continuing to look around. I wonder selfishly if he’s perhaps looking for me,
come to rescue him from himself. I have managed to stay hidden from him so
far, and I continue to do so. Goddammit, he looks so forlorn, I just want to
take him in my arms and console him as I’ve been doing, but I think that is a
large part of the reason why he’s here tonight; perhaps he doesn’t require
consolation. Maybe he needs something else...some kind of.....intervention?
Jesus, I sound like a social worker now.

His gaze is fixed upwards, and I follow it cautiously, still careful to avoid
being caught. There is a couple up on a catwalk laid out about 20 feet over
the dance floor. One of them is obviously a dom, standing at the ready with
whip in hand, and the other is on all fours, head down - the typical sub,
awaiting punishment. I look back to Mulder, and his tongue flicks out
suggestively along his full lower lip, anxiously awaiting the action from
above. I look back up in time to see the dom begin whipping his sub, slowly
at first, gathering speed in time to the techno dance beat blaring out of the
speakers. The sub waggles his ass seductively as the dom deals out his
"punishment", and Mulder is completely in awe of the proceedings, his mouth
partly open as he watches the display.

I can’t believe Mulder....likes this. I had no fucking idea. Is this what he
is looking for to atone for Scully’s death? Because I can’t.....I never
have...I never could. I’ve growled and yelled and shouted and screamed, even
gotten physical with him from time to time - but I couldn’t do that to
him....not even for him. Good God, no. I can’t watch anymore, not the idiots
above the dance floor, and not Mulder’s insistent gaze towards them. I leave
the main room and head into the private room, the "make-out" room as it were.
More movies showing on the walls, and more good-looking young men making out
with OTHER good-looking young men. Jesus Christ, I feel old. I had no idea
that this was what Mulder was coming out for tonight. I can feel the slight
burn of tears in my eyes as I consider what he might want...what he might
need.

I jump as I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I’m terrified that it’s Fox as I
turn......but it’s not him. It’s another young man, looking at me with deep
blue eyes, looking just as lost as Fox has looked these past few weeks. He
looks sort of like Mulder, but blonde, actually, and I have to catch my
breath for a moment before I manage, "I’m not...I mean, hello, I’m not
interested...I mean, I’m not available. I mean...SHIT," I curse, and the
younger man just looks up at me with a knowing smile on his face.

"It’s alright, I’m not trying to put the moves on you. I just thought you
looked like you needed to talk. My name is Jay," he says, and holds his hand
outstretched to me.

"Walter," I manage back, and try to smile at him as I shake his hand. I’m
shaking, and I want to forget all about Fox and his needs and wants and go
home; but I can’t. And I don’t. Looks like good old ‘Jay’ here is in for a
chat. Poor bastard.

"So, what’s going on, Walter? What brings you to the Eagle on this Friday
night, hmmm?"

"Well," I begin, not so sure that I’m ready to disclose that much information
to a total stranger, "my......lover....is here, and he doesn’t know that I’m
following him tonight. I’m worried about him because his partner was killed
in the line of duty six weeks ago and...I need a drink, Jay," Jesus Christ,
am I blushing? Shit, I am.

"His partner? Is he a policeman," Jay asks gently, his blue eyes piercing
into mine.

"No, FBI," I tell him quietly, and Jay simply nods his head at my admission.
"She was killed in the line of duty. While I was supervising." Jay’s eyes
open a little wider, and he walks away from me briefly to go the bar. I mouth
the word ‘scotch’ at him, and he nods and smiles; it appears that he knows
everyone here, and they serve him within seconds. He walks back to me and
hands me my drink, which I down in less than a minute. He asks me if I want
another, and I shake my head, enjoying the customary burn down my throat as I
finish it; it’s straight - no water, just how I drink at home when I’m
particularly stressed, as I am tonight.

"Walter, you appear to be quite a catch; I have a lot of friends who have
been eyeing you all evening. Are you sure you want this....friend of yours?
Because I’m certain I could fix you up with - " I cut him off before he can
even finish his thought.

"Yes, I’m sure. He’s...he means.....a lot to me," I finish, embarassed, but
I’ve said it. Jesus Christ, I want Fox Mulder. In more ways than one. I want
another drink, but I shouldn’t......Jay goes and gets me one more while my
internal angel and devil duke it out. Figures, devil wins. He usually
does....especially that Smoking one.

"For good measure," he insists as he hands it to me, and I down it as I did
the first one. It feels good, I have to admit. I feel more relaxed now than I
have all day, especially since I got Fox’s call.

"Jay, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I really have to....I
mean, I have to make sure he’s........alright," I finish lamely, and Jay just
winks at me.

"Walter, I understand. Good luck," Jay smiles at me, and disappears as
quickly as he appeared. I just shake my head and walk to the bar to set my
glass down. I can’t believe it, but I actually feel a little better with that
off my chest. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all, catching an
objective ear once in a while. Or an eye...I shake that thought off and head
back to the main room to see what Mulder’s up to.

Mulder isn’t leaning against the bar anymore. When I finally do catch a
glimpse of him, he’s dancing. Ironically enough, he’s dancing with the two
nipple-ringed men I wrestled away from earlier. I watch him for a long time,
taking in his sultry movements, intertwined with those of the interlopers, as
I now call them; the men intending to take my lover away from me. He grinds
his ass against one crotch, while he takes the right nipple ring of another
into his mouth and fondles it with his teeth and tongue.

I had no idea that this was what he wanted. I swear, I can feel my heart
twisting in my chest as I leave the bar, the alcohol that I’ve consumed
seemingly non-existent. I go back out to my car and wait for him to leave the
bar; I can’t stand to watch him putting on his little show. He’s been
self-destructing for several weeks and I’m afraid that tonight is the last
straw. We really need to talk. Soon. Before it’s too late.

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

It’s goddamn 2 in the morning when he finally stumbles out of the Eagle. When
I say stumble, I mean it in the strongest sense of the word. The two boy toys
are close behind him, but he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to them,
despite their insistent grabbing and groping. I find my jaw clenching just
from playing voyeur, and I want to get out and run over to Fox, drag him home
with me, and force him to talk about what seems to be eating him alive from
the inside out. I know what part of the problem is, but from his actions
tonight, I think I’m missing a bigger piece of the puzzle.

Fox manages to flag a cab down, nearly falling over the curb in the process;
the boy toys catch him before he can nose dive into the pavement, and I see
him smile and blow them each a kiss as they help him into the big yellow car.
They wave goodbye as the cab pulls out, and I follow minutes later, shooting
a dirty look at the two men now making out on the sidewalk in front of the
club. I’m sure they didn’t see me, but I feel a little bit better, anyway.
I’m just glad that Fox had the sense to not drive. It would appear that that
is the only sense he’s making tonight.

They’re not heading for Crystal City, and I’m wondering just where in the
hell Mulder is off to in a cab at 2 a.m. About twenty minutes later, I find
out, and it’s an all too familiar location; the last place I’d expect Fox to
come to after a night of being so.....decadent. The cab stops in front of the
cemetery gates where Scully is buried, and I turn off my headlights and park
two streets back. I can just barely see Mulder as he more or less falls out
of the car, pays the driver, and watches him drive off. He stands there
staring at the cab as it disappears from sight, and then he begins to
clumsily scale the black iron gates.

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill himself, I think, and I get out of my car as
quickly and quietly as I can, hoping that he’s too caught up in his current
task to see or hear me. I’m right; there is no way he has the attention span
of a star agent this evening. It’s all he can do to not impale himself on the
spikes lining the top of the gate; I hold my breath for a full minute as I
watch him make it over the top, and then he drops to the ground with a very
loud grunt. Good going, Mulder. He produces his mini maglite from his jacket
pocket, which I’m glad for, because it’s really dark tonight, and it makes it
easier for me to track him. It doesn’t take me more than 30 seconds to scale
the gate myself, and I drop expertly to the ground, just as I learned at
Quantico all those years ago. Yep, the old man still has it, I think, and
then I’m off after the small light beam that is sweeping across the
headstones.

It’s a short walk to Scully’s grave, and I have to make sure I give Mulder a
wide berth; I have a feeling I’m going to have to make my presence known
shortly, but I don’t want to do it until I have to. He’ll most likely be very
upset with me when he finds out that I’ve been tailing him all night, and the
longer I can put that off, the better.

Mulder drops to his knees in front of Scully’s headstone, places his forehead
against the marble, and begins to cry. It’s a horrible, mournful sound, one
that I haven’t heard from him ever before; not even on the night I told him
that Dana was gone. It’s heart-wrenching, and almost...desperate in its
intensity. I can feel a lump growing in my throat, and just as I’m prepared
to go to him, he begins to talk as he sobs. I stay firmly planted where I
stand, just watching and listening.

"SSSSScullyyyy," he cries, and he pulls his face back from the marble and
reaches out to caress it with both hands flat on its hard and unforgiving
surface, "I nuh-nuh-ever got to sssay goodbye," he sobs, and I close my eyes,
hearing him as he tells her what he’s been holding inside for so long. "I
wuh-wuh-wanted to be with you if this ever happened, Scullyyyy, it wasn’t
supposed to b-b-be youuuu, it was always suh-suh-pposed to be me," he wails,
and I shake my head in the dark, unseen, as he continues, "I’ve
been.....Wuh-Wuh-Walter and I.......Scully, I missed you so much, and I
wuh-wuh-wasssso alone.....I love him, tooooo," Mulder cries, his words fading
out with the last syllable, "God help me, Scully, it’s all guh-guh-gone to
shit," he says, and then hiccups as he tries to catch his breath.

It’s gotten very quiet, just the occasional sound of Mulder’s breath
hitching, and I can actually hear him unzip his jacket pocket. I can feel the
hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my muscles are tightening from
stress.....and then there’s a clicking sound. Much like that of a safety
being released on a weapon. I see Mulder drop his flashlight on the ground,
and my adrenalin kicks in as he’s lifting the barrel to his temple.

"MULDER, NO," I shout, and I’m standing next to him a split second later.
He’s in shock that I’m here, I can see that much on his face, and then he
just collapses into my arms. His gun drops to the ground and I hold him
tightly against me, kissing his hair, just whispering, "No no no no, Mulder,
God, NO," over and over again. He sobs that sound of desperation for a long
time and I just hold him, probably crushing the hell out of him. I don’t
care; I can’t believe this was what he had in mind. I very nearly lost him,
too. If I hadn’t.....I’m not even going to go there. I can’t bear to think
about it. Not Mulder too. Jesus Christ. I pull him away from me once he’s
wound down a bit, and I grip his shoulders firmly, because I really don’t
think he can stand on his own right now.

"Fox," I say gently, and his hazel eyes are completely swollen, bloodshot all
to hell. Tears leak out and run down his face as I talk to him, more calmly
than I’ve ever spoken to him before. "I was going to apologize for following
you tonight. Under the circumstances, however - " he cuts me off there.

"You followed me?" His eyes are open wide now, and he’s sniffling
unabashedly, "All evening?"

"Yes, Mulder, all evening. As much as I could stand to watch, anyway."

"Jesus, Walter. Even to....the Eagle?" He says with a certain measure of
embarassment, and his gaze drops to his shoes.

"Yes, Mulder, even to the Eagle. I was worried about you. Hey," I tell him,
and I put two fingers under his chin and tilt his head back up so he’s making
eye contact with me, "It’s alright, Mulder. I’ve been there before, too. I
understand.....wanting to be seen....wanting to feel.....wanted."

"I’m so ashamed," he says, and he starts crying in earnest again, "I’m just
so confused....you...and me.....and Scully’s dead......FUCK," he shouts, and
I pull him to me again. I feel his arms close around my back, and I just
murmur to him that it’s going to be alright, that he has nothing to feel
ashamed of, nothing to be embarassed about.

"Ssssh, Fox, it’s okay. I know it’s confusing. I don’t even really understand
it yet myself. But I do know one thing." I hesitate there, because I’m just
not sure if I can tell him how I feel. I don’t know if my feelings are
welcome, or if they’d just confuse him more. Screw it. Here goes
nothing......or more hopefully, SOMEthing.

"Mulder, I.....I....care about you immensely. I enjoy your company. I missed
seeing you when I got home from work tonight. And I am sure as hell glad that
I came after you.....because....I don’t think I could handle losing you." Oh
shit. There. It’s out. I’M out. Whoa.

He looks up at me, sniffles once, and says in a strangled little voice,
"Really, Walter?" For the first time in weeks, he looks.....hopeful.

"Really," I tell him softly. His mouth twitches a little, and he leans
forward and closes his eyes. I can’t resist that pouty lower lip of his, and
I give him a kiss that takes all the oxygen out of both of us. He shivers a
little with the contact, and I pull him closer to me and wrap my arms around
him again. "Mulder, can we go home now?"

"Home?" He asks, uncertainly, and I know what he means. I’m all too happy to
oblige with an answer. He pulls away from me and studies my face.

"Yes, Mulder. Home. I’m warning you, though, we have one HELL of a lot to
talk about this weekend. No more beating around the bush." I search his face
for some response, and his eyes actually look a little clearer to me.

"Alright. Sir," he finishes, and I roll my eyes at him.

"And Mulder? If you won’t talk to Karen Cosseff, I want you to see someone. I
mean it. I’ve put you in a psych ward before, and I’ll do it again. I will
take care of your ass one way or another, do you hear me?"

He bends down and picks up his flashlight and his weapon, handing the latter
over to me. "For safekeeping," he says seriously, and I nod and slip it into
my coat pocket. "Walter?" He asks.

"Yes Mulder," I reply as we head back for the second climbing excursion of
the night.

"There are a couple of things you could do to my ass, you know," he says,
with a completely straight face.

"Mulder, we are going to talk. After we talk, we’ll talk some more. And then,
maybe we can take of your ass."

"Mmm, among other things," he says, and I just shake my head as I give him a
boost up the gate and scramble over faster than him so I can help him down
the other side.

"And Mulder? The next time you ask me permission to go out, the answer’s no."

"The next time I go out, it’s going to be with you," he assures me, and as an
afterthought, asks, "How do you feel about nipple rings?"

"I have my gun and your gun, Mulder. Ask me that question again - I dare
you."

He doesn’t ask me again, and we get to my car and buckle in. As I head for
Crystal City, I feel his head rest against my shoulder, and I swallow the
lump in my throat, biting my bottom lip to keep from crying. We do have a lot
to talk about. And Mulder does need to see someone about dealing with his loss
, and maybe opening up a little in general. All I know is that I love Fox
Mulder. And I want it to stay that way for a long, long time. I hope he feels
the same way; if not now, then maybe someday, when he’s had some time to deal
with everything. He wouldn’t be here with me now if he didn’t feel something,
I’m sure of it. I hear him snore slightly, passed out from exhaustion - and
the tequila didn’t help, either.

He gasps a little, and I hear him whisper in his sleep, "Mmm, love you,
Walter," and he sighs and nuzzles against me. I smile a little as the tears
roll down my cheeks, and I can’t wait to get home and tuck us into bed,
spooning around him, feeling his warm hard body against mine. Yeah, we’ll
talk. Tomorrow. But for tonight, sweet dreams.

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

End of Taste of Life IV - Intervention