Big Deals (part 12 of 13)

by Mik

Scully was bouncing the baby gently, trying to still her insistent fussing. "I don't know what the problem is, Mulder," she complained. "She's been fed and changed."

Mulder, from the rocker in her bedroom, gave her a sleepy smile. He'd been on the night shift last night but she looked like she hadn't slept in weeks. He had always liked the weekend look for Scully, but this weekend of the living dead look was not her best - especially in the middle of the week. "She's a baby, Dr. Scully." He unfolded himself and stretched. "They don't need a reason to cry. Sing to her."

Scully shot him a scowl. "I have," she said flatly.

"No, hold her against your chest and sing. She likes that."

Scully shifted the baby's position from her shoulder to her breast, giving Mulder a 'How do you know?' glare.

Mulder shrugged, scratching his belly lazily. "Kat discovered that."

"Walt sings to her?"

"He's got a nice voice," Mulder said, agreeing with her incredulity. "Very deep."

"What does he sing?" she asked, following him as he left the bedroom.

"Oh, mostly Righteous Brothers, a little Bo Diddly," Mulder said, going into the kitchen. "He's very much into the fifties and sixties."

Scully shifted the baby's weight to her other arm. "And you?"

Mulder opened a cupboard, pulled down a cup. "Oh, I lean toward Rod Stewart, Sting, a little Queen."

"I do not want my daughter exposed to Queen," Scully said hotly.

Mulder rocked a brow at her. "The group, or her father?"

"Queen is not a word I would use describing you - or Walt," her tone was dry. "Speaking of Rod Stewart, do you ever sing that song you sang at the wedding?" She nodded as he offered to pour her a cup of coffee. "It was really beautiful."

"The First Time? That was the name of it." Mulder scooped sugar into the cup and poured coffee. "No, I hadn't thought of that one. Here." He held out the cup. "I'll trade."

"You've been up all night," Scully protested.

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot of practice lately." He eased the baby from her mother's arms. "Here you go, Sweetheart, Daddy's got you." He pressed the baby gently against his breastbone and started humming. Kate-Lynn's fussing subsided almost immediately.

"It's probably something to do with the tenor of your voices. That deep sound is probably more soothing to her," Scully said, but there was a hint of jealousy in her voice.

Mulder nodded, still humming.

"What time are we leaving for your mom's?" Scully asked watching him dancing gently around the room, humming.

Mulder turned toward her, holding up one finger. Why did Scully have to mention this trip? He had been happy right up to that second, and happiness was a new experience for him, one he was only recently allowing himself to enjoy. He was in a steady relationship, rushing toward his first anniversary. He had a beautiful little girl, who wiggled and cooed whenever she saw him. His first book was still on the bestseller list, and his second one was nearly complete. Skinner was back at work full time, and seemed to find as much joy in Kate-Lynn and Scully's presence in their household as Mulder did himself. Everything on the horizon was rose-colored, except this trip to his mother's.

"I think she's asleep, Mulder," Scully whispered, with a touch of awe in her voice.

Mulder looked down. Dark lashes made little fans on translucent pink skin. He nodded and brought the infant back across the hall to the room that Skinner had somehow turned into a pale yellow and white bower of femininity while he and Scully were recuperating in Fargo. He eased her down into her cradle, an heirloom loaned by Skinner's parents. He touched the worn wood and smiled. Legend had it that Skinner had once slept in this cradle. It was hard imagining Skinner as a baby, but it must have happened, for here he was.

He came back into the kitchen and reached for the coffee Scully had poured for him. "Did you get any rest last night?" he asked. At midnight, he had taken Kate-Lynn and the bassinet up to his study and looked after her while he worked, as Skinner and Scully slept.

Scully nodded. "It was sweet of you two to have us here -"

"Scully." Mulder's tone stopped her. "If we had our way, you'd never go home. You know that, don't you? You're part of the family. I told Skinner that last week in Fargo. That we're all family, weird we may be, but we're family."

Scully smiled. "That's sweet too."

"Do you think I'm lying?" Mulder challenged. He knew Scully wanted to tell him something, in fact, he could pretty much guess what it was. He hated it, wanted to argue it, but saw it was reasonable, and would accept it when she told him. He just wanted to put it off a little longer.

Scully decided to wait a while too. "Where's the boss?" she asked, reaching for her own coffee again.

"I don't know," Mulder said honestly. "He was gone when I finished up in the study this morning. He probably went into the office for a little while. It is Wednesday, you know."

"Do you know what else it is?" Scully asked him, slyly.

Mulder's brows curled up in a frown. "Oh, shit," he said. "No wonder he was so insistent about going today. Middle of the week to avoid traffic … my ass." He put his cup down. "I guess I'd better go upstairs and get dressed." He stretched again and winced, clutching at his side before he could stop himself. "It's okay, it's okay," he insisted, as Scully came toward him, ready to be a doctor again. "Just adhesions. I've had them enough times, I know what they are." He picked up his cup again. "I'll be down in a minute."

"What should I wear?" Scully asked, but she was really asking if she absolutely had to go.

"You look great in anything," Mulder told her, reaching down to touch her cheek. He loved touching her, and this week, in his house, he had been free to do so. One more reason why he didn't want her to leave. "You know my mom likes you, Scully. You just go for comfort. I'm the only one who'll be on inspection." He climbed the stairs, wincing at each step, hoping the incision wasn't bleeding again. It was hard hiding something like that with a doctor in the house.

He was shaving, a towel draped around his waist, when Skinner pushed the bathroom door open. "How are you doing?"

Mulder tugged the towel up to hide the fact that one incision was still seeping a little blood. "Fine. I'll be ready in about ten. Where've you been?" He considered Skinner, in Brooks Brothers Brown, and knew the question was superfluous. "Does my department still exist?"

"Of course. But you don't want to see your In box," Skinner assured him, tugging at his tie.

"I never do," Mulder agreed, rinsing his razor in the sink. "Are you changing?"

"Sure. Do you want me to wear a suit?"

"Not necessarily. I just thought that was your SOP." Mulder sensed that Skinner was frowning at him. "What's the matter?"

"Where did the blood come from?"

Mulder's eyes followed Skinner's to the floor. Damn it. "Shaving cut," he lied. It was a mistake. He knew it the minute the words were out of his mouth. Skinner descended on him, tugging the towel away.

"Mulder, that needs to be checked by a doctor. Dana!"

"Shh," Mulder implored, tugging him into the bathroom. "She'll make a big deal out of it. It's just a little place that's healing slower than the rest. A Band-Aid and it will be fine."

"Mulder, you're dripping all over the floor."

There was a tentative tap on the bedroom door. "Walt? Did you call me?"

Mulder glared at Skinner. "Get rid of her, I'm not dressed," he hissed.

"She's seen you naked -"

"So help me, Walter Skinner, if you ever want to see me naked again, get rid of her." He waited while Skinner closed the bathroom door and went to the bedroom door. He heard deep murmuring, a high plaintive protest, and deep commiseration. The bedroom door closed.

"Put something on." Skinner looked around, saw the sweats Mulder had abandoned before getting into the shower. He saw there was blood on the waistband. "How long has this been going on?"

Mulder shrugged. "A day. Maybe two." No need to say it had been bleeding since that first night on the train home from Fargo. They thought it would be easier on Kate-Lynn to come back cross country by train rather than fly. They were wrong. He tugged the sweats into place. "While she's doing this, go down and check on the baby. That monitor doesn't work worth a damn." He dragged a brush through his wet hair and waited. Skinner left, Scully came in.

She looked furious. "How long have you been bleeding like this?" she demanded, pushing him around to lean against the sink while she poked and prodded.

Mulder responded with an inward hiss. "A day or two."

"You need stitches."

Mulder wasn't sure which was better; the need for stitches or that it would prevent them from making this trip, today of all days. "Okay."

"Wait a minute, I've got glue in my bag downstairs. That ought to keep it in place for today." Scully turned and went downstairs.

Mulder made a face at himself in the mirror.

Skinner and Scully came up together. Scully had a tube of what looked like Superglue. Mulder made a face. "Isn't that a little extreme, Scully?"

"This is surgical adhesive," she told him, dabbing at the incision. "Walt, press that spot together. There."

Mulder dug his fingers into the porcelain of the sink. "That hurts," he advised them. They ignored him. A moment later, Scully was applying gauze and medical tape.

"All done," Scully announced.

"Get dressed." Skinner smacked his butt.

Mulder turned glaring at both of them. "I'm thirty nine years old. I do not need to be treated like a little child."

They both had the nerve to smile at him. "Stop acting like a child," Skinner suggested easily. "Thanks for your help, Dana." He shut the door on her.

Mulder continued to glare. "You're a prick, you know that."

"I know." Skinner stepped out of his slacks. "That's why you love me."

"No, that's why you love me." Mulder went into his closet and came out with a pair of baggy black slacks and a red and white sweater.

"I was just going to wear jeans," Skinner said.

"Wear what you want," Mulder said, dropping on the side of the bed. "My mother would never forgive me for going visiting in jeans."

"Mulder, you're thirty nine years old. Your mom doesn't need to be dressing you now."

"Yeah, and if anyone believes that, I've got some monuments I'd like to unload." Mulder was routing under the bed for his black loafers.

"Hurry up." Skinner ruffled his hair, making him hiss like a cat. "I've got something to show you."

Mulder eyed him. What had Skinner done? On his last birthday, he proposed. What was he going to do to top it? Alarmed and excited, he dragged his hands through his hair and started down the stairs.

Skinner was struggling with a large white box. Mulder went to help him. "What the hell is this?" he asked, as they eased it to the floor. "A crib?"

Skinner nodded proudly. "It's the one you and Scully picked out from that catalog."

"But her brother gave us a crib," Mulder pointed out.

"Sure, for her place. Now, we'll have one here too. Dana, come look at this."

Scully came down the hall, the drowsy Kate-Lynn in her arms.

"Oh, did you wake her?" Mulder complained, using that gentle, talking to the baby voice he didn't know he had. He reached for the child and pulled her into his arms. Mom had her dressed in a buttery yellow dress with a white pinafore and little white lace shoes. "Look what Papa Walt got you? A cage for when you're visiting Daddy."

Scully and Skinner both looked at him. He was oblivious to anything but the little girl in his arms. He lost interest in the crib and started dancing the baby around the living room floor, humming and talking to her. Even at ten days, this child looked up at him with absolute trust, absolute credulity. Even Skinner and Scully couldn't give him that.

Behind him, Skinner made a sound of exasperation. "I didn't realize I would need the electric screwdriver to put this together. Kit, do you remember where it is? I think it's on the workbench in the garage."

Mulder turned around to nod, saw that Skinner had his hands full of screws and washers. He offered Kate-Lynn back to her mother. "I'll go get it." He trotted out the back door, down the steps and in the side door of the garage. He scooped up the screwdriver and came back in, hearing Kate-Lynn fussing. He dropped the screwdriver down on the floor and reached for the baby. "What's the matter, Katy-did? Did Mom pinch you or something?" He looked at Scully who was staring at Skinner. "Is her bag ready?" He looked at Skinner. "What's the matter?" Skinner was staring up at him.

With an aggrieved sigh, Skinner reached for the screwdriver. "Where did you find this?" he asked.

"On the workbench, right where you said it would be," Mulder answered, toying with one white lace sock.

"Did you notice anything else about the garage, while you were in there?" Skinner probed.

Mulder shrugged. "All the boxes from when you had the room redecorated. Oh, and the car." He carried Kate-Lynn into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator, looking for the bottles of breast milk Scully had prepared for their trip. He stopped, staring into the fridge. Then he looked at the dining room door. Scully and Skinner were standing there, staring at him. "Whose car is that?" He thought about it. It was a dark colored Toyota RAV4, green or black or blue, hard to tell in the dim light of the garage. And it had a big red bow..."Kat, you bought me a car for my birthday?" He looked at Scully, who was looking up at Skinner. "A car?"

Skinner fished keys from his pocket. "Happy birthday, Kit."

Mulder didn't reach for them. "A car?"

"An SUV," Skinner said, the smile dying stillborn on his lips. "Five speed, four wheel drive, twelve CD changer. I thought you'd like something a little sportier than that Ford you've been driving, and you need a place to put a car seat."

"A car?"

"You're doing it again," Skinner growled.

Mulder looked at Scully, helplessly. "He bought me a car for my birthday. One of those Toyota SUVs." He looked down at the baby. "A car. Papa Walt bought me a car. Wait 'til you turn sixteen."

Skinner looked at his watch. "We'd better get going. Well? Do you want to drive?"

Mulder shook his head. "I'd love to, but this is not the day. I've been up since eight yesterday. I wouldn't be safe on the road. But if you want to drive it, be my guest."

Skinner shook his head and put the keys on the counter. "We'll take the Lexus today." He started making shooing gestures. "Let's hit the road, folks."

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

"Mulder, which way here?" Skinner nudged Mulder awake. "Left or right?"

Mulder sat up, blinking. "Left," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He looked over his shoulder to Scully and the baby in the back seat. Both looked half asleep. "How's everyone?"

"She loves car rides," Scully sighed, aggrieved. "Why wasn't she like this on the train?"

Mulder answered with a shrug and turned just in time to be slammed in the throat by a lump that threatened tears. His mom's house, the place he had lived the last few miserable years of his childhood. He waited for Skinner to pull the brake before he reached for his seat belt. Skinner reached out and touched his hand reassuringly. "We're here for you, Kit. You're not doing this alone," he said quietly.

Mulder pushed the door open, reached around to unlock the back door, and opened it. "Come on, Katy-did, let's go meet the other grandma," he said with false levity. Behind him, he heard the front door open. He straightened and turned, the car seat dangling in his fingers.

He heard a voice both frail and powerful. "Fox?"

He willed himself to smile, even though he felt the air of sullen resentment settle over him like a mantel. "Mom." She looks so old, so beaten, nothing like Skinner's mom.

"Fox, what's going on?" She nodded uncertainly at the man who had twice told her her son was dead, and then at the petite woman who had been her son's partner for so many years. Then she looked at her son. She hadn't seen him in almost two years. He looked well, but … pained. And who did the baby belong to? "Fox?"

Mulder made himself put an arm around his mother and urge her back inside. "Let's go inside, Mom. I want you to meet someone very important." He brought everyone into the conservatory, as his mother called the summer room. "Mom, this is Kate-Lynn Melissa Scully-Mulder." He said the names slowly and deliberately, so his mother would hear the distinction, not the silliness that he so often made of the name. "Your granddaughter."

"My …" Mrs. Mulder put a hand to her throat. "Oh, my …" She looked at Scully. "When did … why didn't you …" She pulled the little yellow blanket away and looked down at the tiny face. For a moment, her face was bathed in joy. "Oh, Fox, she looks just like you."

Scully and Skinner both nodded over her head. Mulder shrugged. "Do you want to hold her?" He began unbuckling the restraints to lift the child from her car seat. "Sit down, Mom. Here." He eased the baby into his mother's arms. She held the child awkwardly, as if she didn't recall having ever held an infant. "She's ten days old," he supplied, putting a hand on his mom's arm. "She was born a little early, but she's doing fine."

She looked down at the hand. "It was nice of you to tell me you got married," she murmured stiffly.

Mulder pulled his hand away, as if burned. "I..." He looked up to Scully and Skinner.

"I suppose it just slipped your mind with the excitement of having a baby," she decided, sounding sweet and bitter in one breath.

Mulder licked his lips, looked away. "Mom, I'm not married to Scully." He reached for the baby gently, not wanting to risk the baby's life on his mother's ability to accept the next part. He held the baby out to Scully, who was frowning at him, silently asking him why he took the child away. He knelt at his mother's side again, and spoke gently. "Scully - Dana asked me to be the father of her child, that's all. We're not married."

"Then why bring her here?" Mrs. Mulder asked.

"Because she is my daughter," Mulder said in a strangled voice, already sensing his mother's withdrawal. "I thought you'd like to know your granddaughter."

"If you're not married to her, why are you wearing a wedding ring?"

"I...um...married someone else." His eyes went up again, searching for help.

"Someone else? Where is she? What does she think about this poor little girl?"

"Not a she, Mom." He focused directly on Skinner. "I'm married to Walter Skinner."

She slapped him, hard.

Mulder twisted his face away, even though he accepted the blow. He couldn't accept the pure, unadulterated hatred in her eyes. "Mom," he began again.

"No." She stood up, pushing away from him. "I won't hear this. Not my son. Not my son." She pulled the doors open, not looking back. "I want you to leave my house."

"Mrs. Mulder," Skinner began.

Mulder put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't," he said quietly. "You don't want to hear what she'll say to you." He looked back at Scully. "Come on, Scully." He reached for the car seat. "Bye, Mom."

He led the way down the hall. Scully stopped to say something to Mrs. Mulder, but she turned away, refusing to listen to anything.

At the door, Mulder turned, looked back, saw his mother, in tears, running up the stairs. Damn it, every time he came, he made his mother cry. Shoulders sagging, he went outside.

Skinner put his arm around him. "I'm sorry, this is all my fault."

"No." Mulder dragged in a deep breath, through his nose. "She had a right to know. I shouldn't have kept it from her so long." He blinked several times, refusing to cry. "There's a lobster place not far from here." He blinked at Skinner, and tried to smile. "Want to buy me lobster for my birthday?"

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

Skinner reached out, and felt emptiness beside him. He lifted his head and searched the semi-darkness of the room. It was two o'clock, and Mulder was gone - again. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, fumbling for his glasses. When did Mulder sleep anymore? Pushing back the bedclothes, he groped for his robe, which he had abandoned earlier. Mulder was drifting away from him, one day at a time. Since Mulder was released to return to work, but Scully was still on maternity leave, Mulder seemed to be putting in longer hours than ever. He barely took time to eat, and he would pretend to go to bed with Skinner, only to be up, and working in the den within an hour.

Skinner looked down at Mulder's pillow, barely dented by the pressure of a head that hardly rested there. Tonight had been the first time in a long time, that they really made love. Mulder wasn't interested, he seemed to be focused on getting it over with, but he wouldn't let Skinner stop to give him any release. Skinner wanted to savor the sensations of entering Mulder for the first time in months, but Mulder rocked against his hips, finding a rhythm he knew Skinner couldn't resist, and persisting, even when Skinner tried to hold him still. Mulder was going to end up with a black eye where Skinner lost control, driving his forehead against Mulder's cheek in a desperate attempt to regain control. He never did. He came, and came, and came, and only when he slid away, rolled off his lover, did he realize that Mulder didn't come, that Mulder was never fully aroused. Skinner had gotten up, to clean up and Mulder pretended to drift off into sleep, to avoid a discussion. Skinner had tried to stay awake, to catch Mulder in the act of sneaking out of bed, but Mulder had exhausted him, as only Mulder could. And now, Mulder was gone.

Tying the sash of his robe, he went down the hallway. The only light from the study was the blue white light of Mulder's computer screen, reflecting off the steel rimmed glasses. Mulder looked up guiltily. "Did I wake you?" he whispered.

"You don't have to whisper, Mulder, she's gone." Scully had taken the baby for the Thanksgiving weekend at her mother's. Mulder and Skinner were going later that day. "What are you doing?"

Mulder ran a hand through his mussed hair. "I'm kind of under a deadline, here."

"The book?"

Mulder nodded. He sighed. "I need to have it to the publishers by the first."

"How much do you have left?" Skinner drew up a chair behind Mulder and began to knead his shoulders.

"Not much. Just some fine tuning." Mulder reached up and put a hand on Skinner's. "That feels good."

"Mmm." Skinner tightened his fingers slightly, finding knotted muscles beneath that satiny skin. "You're working too hard."

"I've got a lot to do." Mulder dropped his hand and sighed. "There's something you need to know. I …"

Skinner's hands tightened. His gut tightened, his head tightened. He waited.

"Kat, can I breathe?" Mulder whispered.

Guiltily, Skinner pulled his hands away. "What is it?"

"Scully's putting in for a transfer when she comes back from leave," Mulder said heavily. "This last little field trip of ours brought home how crazy it is for both of us to be on assignment together. We can't do it now. If something happened to both of us, you'd be raising Kate-Lynn alone. Not that I don't think you'd do a terrific job, Kat, it's just not how I planned things."

Skinner took this blow like a man. He wondered how Mulder was taking it. He wondered if it was a contributing factor in Mulder's withdrawal. "What is she going to do?"

"She's going back to Quantico. She's going to teach forensic medicine." Mulder's face was a mirror of misery. "I hate it, but it's the right thing."

"I'm sorry, Kit," Skinner said, deeply sorry. Losing Scully as his partner would go a long way in helping to destroy Mulder. He'd seen it almost happen too many times. "What are you going to do?"

Mulder dragged in more air, and his shoulders sagged and then squared. "Well, first off, when Scully comes back from her leave, I'm going to take mine. I looked into it. I'm entitled to six weeks of family leave too."

Skinner nodded. "That's a good idea. It will be good

for you."

Mulder was quiet for a moment. "And … when I get back, I'm resigning from the Bureau."

Skinner felt as if he had been hit in the head with a safe. "You're … what?"

Mulder swiveled in his chair, met Skinner's eyes in the light of the screen. "I'm turning in my badge. I'm quitting. Let's face it, Kat, no one believes in my work anymore. The X-Files aren't much more than a joke to the Bureau, a dumping ground for every trash case that no one else feels like cleaning up. The consortium's got my hands tied so far behind my back, my ribs are going to break. I can't breathe anymore."

"But...but, your work," Skinner argued feebly. "Your...truth."

Mulder gave him a pained look. "Come on, Kat. The truths I've been looking for are a little relative, and the relatives I've been looking for might not be the truth. It's time for me to go. Before they kill me or I kill myself. I've got people to live for now. It's time to start living in the present, give the past a rest. Besides," he shrugged a little. "I'm not giving up entirely. I'm just shifting my focus, redirecting my path."

"What are you going to do?" Are you going to leave me? Oh, God, Mulder, don't do this to me.

"Well, Ashcroft has been after me to go back to teaching," Mulder pointed out. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that, but it's a possibility. I've got a lecture series coming up, and another book tour in the spring. And then, I've already talked to my agent about another book. The publishers are interested." His eyes were glittering in the odd light. "They've upped the advance, Kat. I could send Katy to college on this one." He made himself smile. "It's a good thing you bought me a car for my birthday. I'm going to have to give back the Ford."

"What about …" Skinner looked down at his hands. "What about us?"

"What about us? I'm leaving the Bureau, not you." Mulder draped his arms around Skinner's neck affectionately. "Think how much easier your job's going to be without me making your life a bureaucratic nightmare."

"With you, my job is never boring."

"Well, with me, your life will never be boring," Mulder assured him. "I told you, you're not getting rid of me. I'd be a bitch in a divorce."

Skinner felt as if he was just one breath away from tears. "I feel like I'm losing you," he confessed in a whisper. "Nothing's the same."

"Change is scary," Mulder agreed quietly.

"No, it's not that. This has been coming for a long time, since before the - the … you know, the MI."

Mulder let his arms drop, sat back, appeared to be surprised. "What's changed, Kat?"

"You."

Mulder shook his head. "I haven't changed, Kat." He shrugged. "Well, maybe a little. My feelings have gotten stronger than I ever thought possible."

Skinner was wholly disconsolate. "It doesn't seem like it."

"What do I have to do, Kat? Don't you understand how I feel? I love Scully, yeah, and we don't even need to discuss how I feel about Katy, but you...I've never felt like that about anyone, ever. You're my whole world, Kat, don't you get that?"

Skinner shook his head. "You don't have to try so hard, Kit. We both know what it really is, we've known it since the first time we went to Katonah. I'm just the old man, finally giving you an even break."

Mulder sat back, looking the way he did when his mother slapped him. "You really think that?" he said, in a gut wrenched voice. "After all this time, is that really what you think? God." He pushed himself out of his chair, twisted away from Skinner's outreached hand, dragging both hands through his hair, until his fingers twisted and tugged. "I can't believe you'd sell your feelings so cheap, Skinner. Or mine." He stormed out of the room.

Skinner got up. He was tired of Mulder walking out on him. He followed, found Mulder in the bedroom, dragging on a pair of jeans. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out," Mulder said tightly.

"No, you're not."

Mulder didn't even spare him a glance. "Yes, I am."

Skinner put a hand on his shoulder. "I told you, Mulder -"

"Leave me alone," Mulder hissed, groping for his shoes.

"You're not walking out of here."

"I know. I'm going to drive that birthday present you bought me." He looked up, pain in his eyes. "What was that, old man? Just a bribe to keep me happy another few months? That's the way my dad did it, you know; beat me senseless and then buy me something expensive to make me stop crying." There was nothing broken about that confession. It shot out like a knife, stabbing at Skinner like the scene in Psycho.

Skinner's fist doubled up. God, he wanted to hit him, shake him, make him listen.

Mulder's eyes gleamed. "Go ahead," he taunted. "I know you want to. It's the only way you're going to stop me." He reached for his wallet, tucked it into his hip pocket.

"Mulder." Skinner caught his shoulders. "Listen to me."

Mulder glared at him. "I did. I couldn't believe what you had the nerve to say. Now, let me go."

Skinner slammed him against the wall. "Not until you listen to me."

Mulder blinked. It was clear he was seeing stars. "There is nothing left to say."

"I love you."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"Then why won't you believe me when I say it?"

"Because you don't say it," Skinner snapped. "You make jokes, you play around the words, you won't commit to it, unless you're pushed into a corner. For a man who loves the truth as much as you do, you have a hell of a time saying that like you mean it."

Mulder swallowed. "You think I'd lie … about that … to you?"

Skinner stared at him, searching his eyes; wide, angry, stormy gray like the sea. "Yes."

Mulder wrapped his arms up around Skinner's wrists and twisted, pushing down, breaking Skinner's hold on him, making him stagger back almost in pain. "You bastard," he said coldly. "Do you think I'd risk telling my mother the truth if I didn't mean it? Do you think I'd give up the only living relative I've got, just to play a game? You sick bastard." He turned away, started for the stairs.

Skinner knew he had to act, had to move fast. If Mulder made it out the door, it was absolutely over. Mulder would never come back, Skinner could never allow him. He lunged, caught Mulder around the neck, dragged him backward, hooking one of Mulder's flailing arms behind him, held tight.

"Son of a bitch!" Mulder roared.

Skinner just tightened the arm at Mulder's throat. "Give it up, Mulder," he hissed. "I'm not letting you walk out on me."

"You're going to have … to shoot … me," Mulder panted. The arm on his throat was cutting off his air.

"Maybe later." Skinner pushed him toward the bed, let him fall face down, put a knee in his back before he could turn over. "But first, you're going to listen to me. Be still, or I swear to God, I'll cuff you to the bed."

Mulder stilled beneath him. Skinner wondered if his father had resorted to cuffing him, or tying him when he punished him. That could be dangerous, then. He could lose Mulder, if that was the case. Skinner pulled him further on the bed, and straddled him, catching his hair in both fists, pulling his head up. "Are you listening to me, Mulder?" Come on, Mulder, stay mad at me. You'll listen to me that way. He tugged again. "Are you?"

"Yes," Mulder gasped.

"Okay. In the first place, I didn't ask for this. I never went looking for this kind of heartache. I only wanted to teach you a little respect for authority. You got that?" He tugged again. He felt Mulder nod under his hands. "I certainly never expected to find what I found in you. I never expected to fall in love with you. But damn it, I did. I love you, and I've lived in terror ever since. I've never known when I was going to lose you. You're not overly effusive with your affection, Mulder. Sometimes I think you only want to make love to please me, as if you think it's your duty, your penance. That's not what I want from you, Mulder. Do you hear me?"

Mulder was still beneath him. He tugged. "Mulder?"

"I hear you."

"And you never tell me how you feel, unless we're in some kind of crisis, or I force it out of you. That's not very reassuring. It doesn't help that you manage to attract sexual interest from anything mammalian. I can't help it if I'm insecure about you. I thought marrying you would make a difference. It doesn't. It makes it worse. And any time we have even the slightest disagreement, you want to walk out. You make it seem so easy to throw everything away, as if it means nothing to you. That hurts. It hurts like hell. Are you listening?"

"I'm listening."

Skinner was spent. "Do you have anything to say?"

"Are you going to get off of me?"

"Are you going to walk out?"

Mulder shook his head.

Skinner backed away, putting himself between the bed and the door, even though he knew, if Mulder decided to leave now, he didn't have the physical or emotional strength to stop him from walking out.

Mulder rolled over, rubbing the back of his head. There were tear tracks at the corner of his eyes. He sat up, twisted his shoulders, as if they hurt him. He sagged slightly. "Why would you love me? I've never understood that. You've made it clear for years you found me only slightly less annoying than a swarm of gnats."

"That's true."

"Then why?"

"Why do you think?" Skinner challenged softly. Was the man absolutely blind? After almost two years, couldn't he see? Couldn't he understand?

Mulder shrugged, looked at his hands. "Thought you'd take a little road trip in England?" he murmured.

Then Skinner really did want to hit him. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and squeezed them into balls so tight, he was sure he was going to break his own fingers. "Sex? You really think I just thought it was time for a little experimentation? A little mid-life crisis kind of thing? Do men get married to do that? Do I?"

Mulder's eyes stayed on the floor. "I don't know, Sir."

'Sir'? Oh, dear God, are we back to that? "I don't." He tried to soften the rage and frustration out of his voice. "You made me love you. You." He wanted to move closer, couldn't. "Your honor, and passion, and dedication and loyalty. Not to mention the fact that you're gorgeous, although, I admit, I didn't really appreciate that at first. I was kind of repulsed when I first caught myself noticing your eyes, your ass, your mouth - do you have any idea how sexy your mouth is?"

Mulder didn't lift his eyes. He was sitting still, too still.

"Mulder, I didn't set out to seduce you. If anything, you seduced me. I know you didn't do it on purpose, and I know you're still fighting it. Don't you think I know how much you hate lovemaking? Don't you think I know how you have to think about one of those awful movies of yours to get anywhere? Don't you think I know how hard that is on you? But don't you know how much it means to me that you try?"

Mulder drew in a deep breath. He stood shakily. "Okay, you know." He looked around the room. "Sort of makes this little comedy moot, doesn't it?" He worked his ring off, and put it down on the nightstand. "I'll send you an address." He walked out.

Skinner stood there, stunned. He had just poured his heart out, and Mulder poured it back, rubbed in salt, bleeding and raw.

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

Skinner started, blearily, when he heard the phone ring. He put the glass down and walked, with absurd care, to the telephone. "Hello?"

"Walt?" Scully sounded alarmed. "I thought you guys were coming for dinner?"

"Uh … no." Skinner looked around the room, wondering if there was an explanation hanging on the wall, taped to the window.

"Walt, are you all right?"

"Oh, sure." He nodded to himself. Damn straight. He didn't need that little prick. "I'm fine."

"Walter, what happened?" Her voice was at the three alarm stage. "Where's Mulder?"

"Don't know," Skinner said thickly. "Don't know."

"Walter, have you been drinking?"

"I have to go now."

"Walter, what happened?"

Skinner put the phone down, very carefully, and went back to his chair.

A moment later, he heard another phone ring. He went to it. It was a cell phone. Not his. Mulder left without his cell phone? He'd have to come back. Skinner smiled smugly. "Hello?"

"Walter, why didn't Mulder answer?"

"Because he's not here."

"Where is he?"

"I thought he went to you," Skinner said. "Happy Thanksgiving."

"Walter, what's going on?" There was a warble of tears in her eyes. "What have you done?"

"Nothing."

"Then why didn't you come to dinner?"

"I have to go again." He folded the phone up and went back to the sofa, and his glass. He looked down on the table. That narrow gold band was sitting there. He wanted to throw it out the window, let it get lost in the snow. He just let it sit there.

He heard footsteps on the porch. He sat up, hopefully. There was a knock at the door. Mulder wouldn't knock. He just sat there. "Walt?" Oh, it was Scully. How did she get here so fast? He stumbled toward the door. "How did you get here so fast?"

She stared up at him, horrified. "Walter, how much have you had to drink?" She pushed him inside, looked around, went to the coffee table and picked up the bottle. "Scotch. Walter?" She looked back. "Come sit down before you fall down. I'll make you some coffee. Think, now. Where did Mulder go?" She watched him intently.

Skinner answered with a shrug. "He left me." He opened his palm, showed her the ring. He didn't even know he had been holding it.

"Oh, my God," she said softly. She came back to the sofa, put an arm around him. "What happened?"

"We had a fight." Skinner was pleased that he could get that out without breaking down. "I told him, if he walked out, he couldn't come back. He walked out."

"You didn't mean it," she soothed. "He knows you didn't mean it. You've been through this before." She rubbed his shoulders gently. "It will be all right. He won't go far. He left his cell phone here."

Skinner felt laughter erupt. Then it died. "He's a stubborn son of a bitch."

"I know." She laughed grimly. "I know. But he loves you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, Walter, he does."

Skinner felt something hot around his eyes. He brushed at them. Tears again. Walter Sergei Skinner, what a crybaby. "No," he said with utmost certainty. "He doesn't. It's over. He's gone." He fell back against the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "What the hell am I going to do without him?"

"You'll see him at work, you'll figure this out -"

"He's quitting."

"What?"

Skinner lowered his hands. "He said you were transferring out, so he was going to resign. You know he can't go on without you, Scully. He loves you too much."

"He loves you, too."

"No more." Skinner struggled forward, reaching for his glass.

Scully pulled it out of his reach. "Walter, stop this. He'll come back. He's like a little boy. He has to go off and pout for a few days. He'll be back. Remember Baltimore?"

"This is different."

"What happened?"

"He told me he didn't love me."

"I don't believe that," Scully insisted.

"He did. He said 'This little comedy is moot'." Skinner imitated his flat tone perfectly. "Then he took off his ring and said he'd send me an address."

"When was this?"

"About three this morning."

"Did he take his gun?"

Skinner shrugged again. "I don't know. I don't know if he took anything."

Scully got up and went to the closet, and pulled it open, looking for the gun safe. It was closed. "Give me your keys."

"I'm not going to shoot myself," Skinner said, laughing grimly.

"I want to see if he took his gun."

Skinner got up quickly. "Do you think he would shoot himself?"

"He nearly did, once before."

"Oh, my God, we've got to find him."

"It's all right. It's here. He left it here."

"He's out there, unarmed," Skinner said.

"Make up your mind, Walt."

"I need some coffee."

"I'll make you some. Go sit down."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know, but he won't go far. He won't leave Kate-Lynn."

"Or you. He loves you."

"He loves you, too. You two just haven't learned how to accept that from each other yet."

"I love him."

"I know."

"He doesn't."

"He does." Scully came back to sit beside him. "It just scares him."

"Scared." Skinner nodded and put the ring back down on the table. "I scared him."

"What did you do?"

Skinner shook his head. "I just tried to tell him how I felt." He let his head fall forward on his chest. "Where is he, Scully? I need him back."

- END part 12 of 13 -
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