TITLE: Choices Cost - Chapter 05 - Safe or Out

NAME: Mik

E-MAIL: ccmcdoc@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17. M/Sk. This story contains slash i.e. m/m sex. So, if you don't like that type of thing – STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution. Of course if you have four arms you can throw caution to the wind.

SUMMARY: Morning rising on the dull grey barrel of a shotgun.

ARCHIVE: Anywhere as long as my name and addy stay attached.

FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist...

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is an AU, very vague spoilers for multiple episodes, nothing current.

KEYWORDS: story slash angst Skinner Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. I'd rather say that they really are mine, but I've been advised to deny everything.

Author's note: To my mentors – with lots and lots of love. To my beta – 'bout damned time, huh?

If you like this, there's more at https://www.squidge.org/3wstop

If you didn't like it, come see me, anyway. Pet the dog.

Choices Cost – Chapter 05 – Safe or Out

by Mik

Okay. I didn't break it. I realized that while lying there listening to Skinner bellowing my name. Well, granted, you-son-of-a-bitch is not, technically, my name, but it has been a long-standing nickname in my family.

After rolling around gingerly to do a visual and then a tentative reflex check, I pulled myself up against the tree that had waylaid me, and gave it a bitter kick. With the leg I hurt. Let me make a confession at this juncture. Brilliant is NOT a long-standing nickname.

But the yelp I emitted served to assure Skinner that I was still alive. He started shouting my name again. I used it to hone in on where I left him. I didn't need my missing mini mag light to see he was red-faced and anxious when I reappeared from the bush. But did he gush with relief upon seeing me upright and breathing? Um...no.

"Find it?" he rasped.

For a moment, I didn't know what he was talking about. "Find what?" Then, of course, at that precise moment I realized I had gone in quest of my backpack and the lifeline to mercy - my cell phone.

He gave me an open mouthed are-you-an-idiot look and then decided I was just being a childish jerk - another long-standing nickname. "You think you're funny, don't you?" he said with an irritable sigh.

I limped near the dying fire and dropped gracelessly to the ground. "Hey, someone's got to keep a little spark in this relationship." I froze. Oh, shit. I said it. Relationship. A few half-asleep kisses and some pathetic groping does not a relationship make.

He didn't seem to hear what I said. He was glowering into the darkness. He's the only man I've ever met to whom I would ascribe the word glowering. "Do you think you can control your wanderlust until sunrise, and then go for the truck?"

"I suppose," I answered sullenly, rubbing my aching arm distractedly. The night was still making its eerie sounds but it was strangely quiet between us. I risked a glance in his direction. He was looking at me expectantly. "What?" I demanded peevishly.

He cocked a smile at me. "Get your ass back over here."

I'll tell you, I didn't need to be told twice. I scooted across the ground and settled back against his chest, trying to be still and recapture the moment; despite the fact that I hurt in places I didn't know I had places, and I could feel the top of one of the splints rubbing against the small of my back, and his skin was chilled from night air and blood loss. I struggled with a desire to smother him with concern. Knowing he would rather die than have me fuss over him, I convinced myself to err on the side of discretion.

Yet, after a few moments, it was clear he was not even trying to go back to sleep. I touched his arm. "Are you going to be all right?" I asked him, in a quiet, guilty voice.

"Mulder, I won't lie to you," he said, shifting carefully around me. "The damage could be significant, and the longer we're out here, away from medical aid, the lower my chances are for complete recovery."

I sighed.

"It hurts, Mulder," he finished.

Well, that got me. I felt tears sting again and I tried to pull away.

His arms tightened around me. "Mulder, it isn't your fault. This could have happened to me if I had been out here by myself. I could have tripped over that same tree root and ended up down here alone, and completely helpless."

"You? Helpless?" I snorted.

I felt him rub his cheek against my hair. "You'd be surprised how helpless I've felt on occasion."

Something in me turned to a soft, porous...something...mush. I felt myself dissolving within his embrace, soaking up his presence, being consumed...I don't know. I just know I stopped being a whole and independent life form at that moment. I became something symbiotic. Someone who needed him to survive. I resented it and reveled in it. "I know what you mean," I agreed softly.

Something else was happening in me. My whole perspective of who I am and who I will become shifted. I wanted to save him. I wanted to be his rescuer, his hero, his white knight. And at the same time...I just wanted him to hold me 'til the nightmare passed. And I felt the same confusion and desire swirling inside the very breast I rested upon.

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

We both slept. Despite the cold, despite his physical distress, despite my achy body, despite the insistence of everything furry on four legs to creep around and make threatening rustles in the leaves, we slept. Wrapped in one another's arms. Wrapped in the bewildering knowledge that we needed each other, wanted each other, and had been seeking each other. We slept.

And how do I know I slept? Well, the little night noises stopped making me flinch and jerk. In fact, little night noise making creatures rustled around just beyond us, came walking right up to us, and I didn't bolt upright and pull out my gun.

No, I didn't even stir 'til one of them nudged me with the toe of his boot and said, "What the hell is this, Sam?"

I opened my eyes and looked up into the eyes of someone whose neck was so red I could hear banjos dueling when he breathed.

I swallowed and struggled to sit up. I knew what they saw; two men snuggling one another, half naked, in the woods. "He...um...I broke his...um..." I let it go as I watched morning sun dapple the dull grey barrel of the shotgun tucked under his arm. Ohhhhh shit.

The one referred to as Sam was looking down at the performance art we called Skinner's Broken Leg. "How bad?"

I was startled by the soft, husky, feminine voice. For a moment all that mattered was that I had encountered a young female with brown hair, named Samantha. "P - pretty bad," I stammered, heart racing. "Sticking out." I swallowed again. "Compound fracture of the tibia. I fell into him coming down the side of the ravine."

The unnamed male turned and blinked upward. "Hell of a fall." He looked down at me. "How are you feeling, aside from that shiner you're sporting?"

I touched my cheek self-consciously. "Better than he is." Sitting up straight, I tugged my jacket on, and looked back. It disturbed me that we had carried on this conversation with no sign that Skinner planned to join the party. The only thing that kept me from pounding on his chest and puffing into his mouth was the steady rise and fall of that nearly naked chest. "He's lost a lot of blood." I worked myself up to my feet, and let out a very unmanly yelp of pain as I settled on my sprained ankle. I then swore in a manly fashion and glanced at Sam. "I beg your pardon."

"This isn't exactly well-traveled terrain. What are you doing here?" the man asked me.

"We're camping up …" I pointed, paused to remember which way Skinner had pointed the night before and shifted directions. "… there." I looked down at Skinner again. "His truck is up there. If we could get him back to the truck, I can get him to medical attention."

The man shook his head. "We'll never get him back up the hill that way," he declared, looking at Sam. "We might as well take them along to the lodge, don't you think?"

I looked at Sam. Upright it was easy to rule out that remote, yet ever present possibility that she might be related to me. She was easily as tall as I was, with dark brown hair, earnest, no-nonsense eyes. She looked more likely to be Skinner's sister than mine.

She was nodding. "I expect so. I could run up to the lodge and get some blankets to make into a stretcher."

She made it sound so simple. Maybe she didn't realize that a compound fracture meant that a bone was sticking outside his leg. However, given that these two seemed to be our ticket out of that creek bed, I decided to be gracious about it. "That would be great."

She slanted a look at me and then at Skinner. "Camping?" she said and there was meaning in her voice.

I met her no-nonsense eyes as directly as I could. "Yes."

She didn't challenge me or smirk. She looked back to the man who had come with her. He was not as tall. Dark skinned, with a face that looked as if he'd laughed into the sun a lot. "I'll be back in about an hour." She flicked a hand toward Skinner, still sleeping and still. "Better secure that splint." And she was off.

I have to admit, I watched her disappear into the foliage as if the forest was her friend. Yet, even as I was admiring her stride, her confidence, her pragmatic nature, I was thinking that those were the very qualities I found so irresistible in Skinner.

 "Do either of you come equipped with names?" the man inquired.

I jerked a guilty look in his direction. He was scowling again. "Mulder. Fox Mulder." When his eyes dipped down to my sleeping beauty, I added, "Walter Skinner."

"And he's your..."

"Boss," I said swiftly.

"Boss," he repeated and nodded, slowly.

"Boss," I insisted.

We didn't say much after that.

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

The lodge was hardly the rustic little cabin I was expecting. It was a regular A frame house with a boat dock at the back. A woman was weeding a small rose bed but she turned and straightened as our ragtag party stumbled out of the woods, shuffling sideways so that we could all give as much support to Skinner's makeshift stretcher as possible. Poor Walter was lying there, gripping the sides of the blanket, wide awake and wanting to explode in profane expression of his pain. Instead, he stared, stoically upward, avoiding my gaze as he rocked and rolled along the path.

They shuffled him off to a bedroom immediately, and consulted inside, while I was kept out in the dining room, consoled with a cup of coffee, and an ice pack for my ankle. I don't know what they did, but at some point there was an inhuman scream, that I must assume came from what was left of Skinner's body, and then a short while later, Sam emerged with all his clothes.

She tossed me a look as she passed through. "You can go see him now, if you like."

There have been many times in my career that I have regretted not having a camera on my person, but never more than that morning, walking into what was obviously the main bedroom, to find my boss - that massive, intimidating, buttoned down behemoth sitting up in a rocking chair, his newly re-bandaged and re-splinted leg propped up on an ottoman and some pillows, draped modestly in a frilly, floral rayon thing that I believe is known as a house dress. The expression on his face when he saw me cross the threshold was one that said if I valued my life, my career, my ass, I would back up, turn around and forget I ever came in that room.

Did I?

No. I walked in, looked him over. Burst out laughing. I might have injured myself. I had to hold the bedpost to keep upright. I think I felt a little lightheaded.

"Are you through, Agent Mulder?" he said in his best Assistant Director voice.

I swallowed, hard. "I think so," I said in a weak voice, trying to turn my chortles into coughs. "Are you all right?" Only then did I risk another look at him.

He looked uncomfortable. Why the hell not? He broke - correction, I broke his leg. He had been rescued by and was at the mercy of strangers. He was in repose before a subordinate in nothing more than a fetching little morning frock. But I think it was something else. I think that, in the clear light of day, he was regretting something that happened in the dark of night, in the blinding blackness of passion.

I tried to ignore it, put him at ease, pretend it didn't happen. "What did they do?" I asked in an oddly strangled voice. "Except put you on Mr. Blackwell's list?"

"Shut up, Mulder," he snapped, tugging the garment together over his lap in an almost demure fashion.

"That's quite an...um...outfit," I said, forcing myself to snicker, because it was expected of me. "And a little frightening. I've seen the two females in this place and neither of them looks big enough to own a gown fit for - for you. There must be one huge mother-in-law roaming around here."

"Jay bought this for June," Skinner explained gruffly.

"Jay?" I repeated. "June?"

He gestured faintly with the hand that wasn't clutching the robe together.

"Um...I've seen June...she's about half your size."

"I know," he said tiredly. "You're not married, Mulder. You wouldn't understand. Men occasionally make purchases that are not...ideally suited to their wives."

I let my eyes go over the intensely pink, frilly, oversized smock and decided that ol' Jay had definitely pulled a boner with this one.

It was obvious he didn't want me in there so I didn't linger much longer, even though I had done more damage to my psyche than my elbow and knew he was the only one who could heal it. I wanted to stay and find a way for Daddy to kiss this boo-boo and make it well. I backed toward the door. "Do you...need anything?"

He gave me a long look that I wanted to interpret as meaningful yet couldn't. "No. Thank you."

Well, he couldn't have said it plainer. I answered with a jerky nod and left.

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

Jay found me slumped in a splitwood chair out in front of the lodge, watching ducks settle in the reeds at the edge of the water. "The medevac will be out in about two hours, Fox."

"Mulder," I mumbled.

"Pardon?" He squatted down at the step beneath me.

I tried to smile. "People call me Mulder."

He sat there quietly for a moment. "So...how is he?" he asked at length.

"Oh, he'll survive." I sat up, realizing how ungracious I was being. "I don't know what you did to him, but he looks much better."

Jay smirked at me. "We just held on. Sammie did all the work. She's our vet."

"And she didn't recommend putting him down?" I asked wryly. Boy, I would.

Jay smirked again. "So...this is pretty new to you?"

I slanted him a narrow eyed glance. "What?"

"You and your...boss." He looked over his shoulder. "You just meet?"

I looked over my shoulder. "Oh, no, it's not like that."

"Don't kid the man who rescued you, Mulder. It isn't nice."

I met his dark gaze directly. "It isn't like that. It was just a...a fluke. Something that happened in the heat of the moment. He was delirious with pain."

"He seemed pretty coherent a little while ago. And very concerned about you."

I shrugged it off. "He's my boss. That's his way."

He nodded and stood, reaching over to pat my knee as he did. "The girls and I are headed back to the farm. Leave the key under the mat when the medevac comes, will you?"

I stood up with him, startled. "You're leaving?"

"Have to get back to the farm early. I start planting tomorrow." He looked at me, as if he was going to say something, then shook his head.

"Um...Jay...um...thank you. For everything."

He nodded and went inside.

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

Samantha was the last one to leave the lodge. She passed me as I stood on the porch watching Jay load up the van with careless precision. Extending her hand she pressed a key and a card into mine. "There's the key to lock up. That's Jay's email if you need it for anything. Your boss's clothes are folded on the dryer." She moved toward the first step, paused and looked at me. "Good luck," she said on a wink, and was gone.

I watched Jay back the van up the drive and away, getting cheery waves from all three. Then I scanned the skies for signs of help.

At last I went inside. I'd given it a great deal of thought the last couple of hours, and I had come to the conclusion that I wasn't going to walk away from this. If he didn't want me, he was going to have to say the words. Oh, sure, they'd kill me, but I'd die knowing where things stood.

He was still in the rocker, a magazine open on his lap, his head tilted back, as if he'd been trying to sleep, but he lifted his head as I came in. "Yes, Mulder?"

"They're gone," I told him. "They gave me their email. I guess they want us to keep in touch."

"I can't believe they just left us here, in their lodge," Skinner murmured.

"Well, maybe there's a dead body on the premises and we'll be caught with it instead of them," I answered cheerily. "Actually, Jay said if he couldn't trust agents of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, he couldn't trust anyone. I guess we're lucky we're not Internal Revenue agents."

That made him snicker. "We'd be dead."

I came around beside him and perched on the edge of the bed. "Um...Walter..."

He put up a hand. "It's all right, Mulder. I let things get out of hand."

"Yes, but -"

"I apologize and promise you there will be no further liberties taken."

"I want liberties taken," I protested, throwing my hands wide. "Please...take liberties."

He frowned at me. Just the way Daddy ought to frown at a wisecracking son. "Agent Mulder, it would be detrimental to our working relationship, disastrous to your career."

"My career?"

"You're much more vulnerable than I am," he reminded me. "I can't pull you into a relationship that could put you in jeopardy."

"I think I should be allowed to make that choice," I countered.

"Mulder, I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I -"

"And so have I." I stood up and looked down at him. "Walter...do you want me?"

He was startled by the directness of the question. "Yes," he said, at length. "I do."

Everything from my throat to my balls clenched. I barely managed to swallow and squeak out the words, "And I want you."

There was a long silence. We stared at each other. His eyes were so hot I could smell the smoke rising off my own body. My heart was thudding loudly. My groin was starting to ache. At last, he opened his mouth. "It's lunacy. We won't do this."

I smiled to myself. He wanted to but he wouldn't. But he wanted to. Shakily, I dropped slowly to my knees between his separated legs. Almost daintily, I lifted the gown away from his body. There it was, that object of my affections, stirring, darkening, one drop of desire already sparkling on the crown. I took a deep breath and lifted it almost lovingly from its nest, my fingers circling the sac and base carefully, guiding it to just the right angle, and opened my mouth.

He let out a low groan, and let his head fall back in surrender.

I had never done this before. The bitter taste was a surprise, but it wasn't an unpleasant one. After a moment, I became accustomed to it, even hungry for it, and began to lap around the crown like a puppy. Flicking a glance up at his face, twisted in torment and need, I smiled and settled down, taking the whole thing in, as deep as I could, 'til I couldn't breathe. And began to suck.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the whup-whup-whup of the medevac's chopper. By the time it settled at the dock below the house, the roaring rotors only barely drowned out the roar of Skinner's orgasm.

- END chapter 05 -