xXx

Kimberly Cook turned her desk calendar over and sighed. February 25, Ash Wednesday. Good Lord - Time flies. "I suppose I should go to church at noon," she thought. She decided she'd go at 1 PM instead to miss the lunch crowd. She'd have to ask Assistant Director Skinner when he got in about it but she was sure he'd say it was ok. She reached over and turned on her PC. Hump day too she thought idly as she accessed the file for the monthly expense report she had been working on. She contemplated her plans for the weekend.

"Boy they're exciting," she thought sarcastically. Friday night a drive by the video store for her weekend entertainment. She couldn't decide whether to rent *The English Patient* or *Kiss the Girls*. She'd decide whether she was in the mood for a love story or a thriller when she got to the store. "Maybe I'll be really schitzo and rent them both," she laughed bitterly to herself. Saturday would be spent studying for an exam during the day. Saturday evening she'd make popcorn, curl up with Clarence and Darrow her two cats, and watch the video or videos. Sunday morning she'd go to church and then come home, do laundry and then finish that Anne Rice book she's started last weekend. How scintillating she thought. What an utter rut I live in. She sighed again and began to type.

"Good morning, Kimberly," Assistant Director Skinner's voice interrupted the clicking of her keyboard. Kimberly swung around to look up into his lenses. She brightened up immediately.

"Good morning, sir. How was the drive in?"

"There was an accident right out in front of the building this morning. What a mess. That's why I'm a little late. Sorry."

"No problem, sir. Your first meeting isn't until 9 anyway. Can I get you some coffee?"

"That would be excellent. Did you put Agent Arquette's file on my desk?"

"Yes, sir. He's retiring isn't he?"

"Yeah. It'll be a shame to see him go. He was a damn fine agent. Still that protégé of his is top notch as well."

"Agent Rodriguez?"

"Yes. She should do quite well."

"I took the liberty of putting her file on your desk as well, sir."

"Good. Kim, Thanks. Don't know what I'd do without you."

As Walter Skinner turned his back on his Executive Assistant and walked into his office Kimberly Cook smiled and went down the hall for the coffee.

"Thank you," he replied slightly distracted as Kimberly placed the cup near him on the desk. Skinner looked back down and continued to read.

Skinner looked back up, "Yes?"

"I'd like to take a later lunch today. It's Ash Wednesday. I'd like to go to church at 1 if that would be all right with you."

"It's Ash Wednesday all ready? God, it's hard to believe February is almost over," he shook his head in wonder, "Sure, Kim, go to church at 1. I don't have a problem with that at all. Take as long as you need."

"Thank you sir," Kimberly replied smiling into his lenses.

"You're welcome," he said returning her smile with a slight smile of his own. He looked back down and started to read again.

Kimberly felt her heart leap in her chest. "He looks so handsome when he smiles," she thought, "he should really smile more often." She felt herself flushing. She also heard one of her phones ringing. She turned hastily and exited his office. She shut the door behind her.

"Federal Bureau of Investigation. Office of Assistant Director Walter Skinner. How may I help you?" Kimberly spoke into the phone as soon as she had sat down and picked it up.

A woman's voice reached her ear through the receiver, "I'd like to speak to Assistant Director Skinner, please."

Kimberly frowned deeply and gripped the receiver more tightly. Her jaw muscle was jumping as she replied, "May I ask who's calling?" She knew who it was. She recognized the voice and it irked her that she was calling again.

"Fine, I'll see if he can take your call. One moment please." Kimberly put her on hold. She bit her lower lip. Something about that woman just didn't add up. Kim didn't like her and she new it was illogical to distrust her so, but she couldn't help it. She hoped to hell it wasn't jealousy. That was so unprofessional. It was unfair to Walter Skinner, disrespectful and bordered on irrational on top of it. But still something... She stamped down the feeling and dialed through to the A.D.

"Yes?" Skinner barked into the phone.

"I have Marita Covarrubias on line 1 sir."

"Oh. Put her through," Skinner replied his voice suddenly a lot less tense and formal.

Kimberly punched the hold button and spoke into the receiver, "Ms. Covarrubias?"

"Yes?"

"I'll put you through now."

"Thank you, Ms. Cook for being so...prompt," Marita replied.

Kimberly hit the button that would forward the call to Skinner with a violent stabbing motion of her finger.

"Georgetown Psychiatric Associates, may I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Oslander please."

xXx

"So, I'll be getting into town late Friday, Walter. I'd love to see you again," Marita was saying over the phone from New York.

"Friday's a problem. I've got meetings up the butt and I know they'll run late. Can we make it Saturday?"

"Bad week?"

"Marginally annoying but I'm coping."

"Well, that's good to hear. Saturday would be fine."

"All right. But listen, Marita. Uh, I'd like to have you over to my apartment. I...I'd like to cook dinner for you if that would be ok with you. I'm not a bad cook."

"Really? I had no idea you knew your way around a kitchen, Walter. That's fascinating. Well, I'll certainly have to find out just how good a chef you are, sir. I'd love to come to your place for dinner."

"Any objections to Chinese cuisine?"

"Great."

"Why don't I come over early and help you cook the meal? I'm not a bad cook either, Walter. I think it would be fun."

"Sure, I'll give you directions to my place and then we can decide on a time."

Skinner gave Marita directions to his Crystal City apartment and then they decided she would come over at around 2 PM. That would give them plenty of time to talk and prepare the somewhat elaborate meal Skinner had in mind.

"So, I'll see you around 2, Walter. I look forward to it."

"Sounds good. See you then," Skinner replied and then he hung up.

Skinner had seen Marita once since that night in her apartment. She had been in town on Valentine's Day, in mid February. They had gone to an opening for a new art exhibit at one of the local galleries and then gone back to her apartment. Marita had wanted sex again but Walter had rebuffed her claiming fatigue. She hadn't put up much of a protest. She was due to fly out in the morning anyway.

In truth it hadn't been fatigue. It had been a combination of distrust and disgust. Skinner didn't like either emotion in connection with Marita but he hadn't been able to help feeling that way. He'd done a lot of thinking about the last time they had been together. Even though the sexual release had been fantastic the way they had gone about it had sickened him the more he thought about it. He really wanted to discuss his feelings with Marita. He wanted to try to make her understand that he didn't want the sexual part of their relationship to continue in that fashion. If she insisted that she wanted him to hurt her again he would have to stop seeing her all together. It just made him hate himself even more and he was trying to work through his self-loathing enough all ready without adding the additional complication of sadomasochistic sex into the therapy sessions. Hell, Karen Kosseff would have field day with that one. God, he really didn't want to got there with her that was for sure.

So, Skinner had decided if he could get Marita on his own turf, fix her a good meal, and make nice, he just might be able to broach the subject with her. Broaching and explaining were two different things though so he looked forward to Saturday with a mixture of desire and dread as he turned back to reading the files on his desk blotter.

xXx

"OhhhhUhhhhh," Dana Scully was groaning as Mulder thrust between her legs. He was really going for broke and it felt phenomenal. She watched Mulder and it sent her up to another level of ecstasy. He looked so erotic, his face transformed in pleasure. He had his head tucked down slightly and his mouth open, gasping with his efforts. His eyes were shut and his neck muscles straining as he concentrated on pumping into her. He had one hand between their bodies and he was stroking her clit. He really wanted them to come together that night. He had told her he was going to try to have her join him in his climax, and now he was working like hell to make it happen. Scully's chest filled with love for him and she felt her body begin to tense in anticipation of her orgasm.

"Come for me, Scully," Mulder moaned and then she felt his balls tensing against her body and she cried out and grabbed his ass, urging him on.

"Oh, I love you...so close, harder," she gasped into his ear and then she felt her climax rip through her. It came in one mighty wave as her inner muscles clamped down over Mulder's cock. She saw tiny sparkling pin points of light in front of her eyes. She arched her ass up frantically and bucked into Mulder's rocketing hips.

Scully moaned loudly as she felt his entire body tense against her. She went through another spasm of her own as she watched Mulder start to reach his own plateau and then crash over it into oblivion. As she watched Mulder's orgasm shatter his senses she was almost overcome with the vision of it.

Mulder opened his mouth and a low growl of pleasure came out. Then his voice rose to a higher pitched cry. He rocked back on his knees and Scully watched him as he flung his head back, shut his eyes and threw his arms out to the side. He still threw his hips forward against her. He drove into her for one last terrific thrust.

"OHGODOHGGGOD!" he yelled as he came. As he threw his arms out, Scully had a thought flash through her mind. She thought that Mulder looked just like Christ on the cross, a tortured Christ, crucified. She was completely undone by the idea and the passion of the moment. She began to leak tears as Mulder collapsed forward into her embrace.

They rolled onto their sides, Mulder still inside Scully. They lay together for several minutes unable to speak. Mulder gently wiped the tears from Scully's eyes with his thumb.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" he whispered finally finding his voice.

"I think you just did," she whispered back. She lowered a hand down between then and stroked where they were still joined together.

Mulder shut his eyes and smiled. He reached forward and kissed her. As she continued to gently fondle him he pulled out. Scully gave him a final little pat and then brought her hands up and placed her arms around his neck for a tight hug.

Mulder laughed, "You've got arms of steel, Scully. I'm impressed."

"Well, you've got buns of steel so I guess we're even," she quipped lowering one hand to slap him playfully on the ass.

"Ouch, watch it or you'll bruise my tender skin."

"What time is it?" Scully asked rising up to look over Mulder's shoulder at her bedside alarm clock, "God, it's 12:30 all ready."

"Ok, so we humped into Saturday morning," Mulder chuckled.

"Well, I have to get some sleep now. You'll want to get a few hours too so you'll be alert for your cartoons, right?" Scully said teasing him.

"Oh yeah. I wouldn't want to snooze through *Johnny Quest* after all." Mulder smiled.

Scully turned onto her opposite side and snuggled back into Mulder's body. Mulder spooned in close against her as well and draped his long muscular arm protectively around her middle. He nuzzled her neck.

"You're still coming over to my place tonight, right?"

"Hey, I can follow a recipe."

"I know you have an eidetic memory. That's the only reason I accepted."

"Oh sure. I know that wasn't the only reason."

"Well..."

"Oh come one, Scully, admit it - you've always wanted to do it on my couch haven't you?"

"Mulder!?"

"Well?"

"OK, Yes. I've had fantasies for years about getting you naked on that stupid couch, all right? Satisfied?" Scully giggled as Mulder smooched her neck.

"More then you could ever know, Scully. More than I could ever say..." he whispered lovingly into her ear.

xXx

It was 4 PM and Walter Skinner was lining up egg roll skins on a flour covered board that sat on the island which in turn sat in the middle of his kitchen. He placed a bowl with a vegetable and meat mixture in it next to the board. He fished around in a drawer for another spoon.

Marita Covarrubias stood nearby sipping from a glass of wine. She had arrived promptly at 2 PM. They had spent some time talking and eating a plate of fresh fruit that Skinner had thrown together. At around 3 PM they'd moved into the kitchen. Marita had been cutting up vegetables earlier but now she was watching in fascination as Skinner got the ingredients for the egg rolls together.

"How interesting. Can I help you with those too?"

"Sure, just take those skins and put some of the flour over them. I need to find the wire frying basket for lowering them into the hot oil anyway."

"All right." Marita replied as Skinner rummaged in a cabinet. He found the frying basket quickly and then he stood aside and took up his own wine glass as Marita sprinkled flour over the egg roll skins.

"So what do I do with this?" Marita Covarrubias asked laughing slightly as she picked up the first of the egg roll skins from the rice flour.

Skinner was standing across the island from her. He swallowed his wine quickly, set the glass down, and started to move around the end of the island.

"Oh, let me show you," he replied. He reached her side and stood next to her. He took the egg roll dough and placed it flat.

"You just spoon a medium amount of the these ingredients into the center, like this, and then you fold it over, and roll it up. Tuck the ends in and...viola." He deftly demonstrated as he spoke.

"God, Walter, that's remarkable. Where did you learn to do that?" Marita asked genuine appreciation in her voice.

"It's just something I picked up over in Southeast Asia, that's all," he replied. He didn't want to tell her he'd picked it up from watching one of Cracker Rand's regular Vietnamese girls prepare spring rolls for them in her tiny apartment one night. A night he had spent stoned again on her couch while Cracker had balled her brains out later on.

"Well, it's amazing that a man with hands as large as yours can do something so delicate. It takes a very gentle touch," Marita replied watching as he placed the first egg roll aside and started on the second. She picked up her wine glass again and took a sip.

Marita Covarrubias put her wine glass down and moved closer to Skinner. She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him gently towards her. He released the egg roll and stood facing her. She pinned his eyes.

"Walter, it's just my way. I...I haven't been with very many...gentle men. I guess I'm just not used to being treated any other way. After a while I just got accustomed to...rough treatment. It became part of the pleasure for me. I enjoy it now. I know it's not right...but..."

Skinner stopped her explanation with a finger to her lips. He left a small amount of flour on her lips where he had touched them. He bent forward and pressed a tender kiss to the spot where the flour was resting. When he drew back he spoke.

"Marita - it doesn't have to be that way. What I did with you that night - that, that wasn't the way I wanted it. I meant what I said about it not really being my scene. If you'll let me I'd like to show you how I'd really enjoy making love to you. Would you let me do that for you, Marita?" as he spoke he stroked her cheek.

"Yes, I'd like that Walter," she whispered.

"Is this good?" he asked her as he stroked her nipple slowly and erotically. He watched her face carefully. She was beginning to flush slightly and he knew she was becoming aroused. He smiled at her.

"Yes, it does feel good, I..." she giggled slightly, "I like it - it tickles too." she reached over and made the same motions over his hard male nipples. "Do you like it too?" she smiled mischievously.

"Oh yeah. That...that's very nice," he hissed. He bent forward and took her nipple into his mouth.

"OhGGGGod," she stuttered, "that feels wonderful."

They continued to lie side by side and in exploration of each other's entire bodies. Skinner set the slow and languid pace and Marita followed his lead. Gradually he thought that maybe, just maybe, she was beginning to gain an appreciation for how much better it felt to be loved and not hurt. She certainly seemed excited. Her breath was coming much more quickly. Soon both of them were breathing heavily and Skinner's hard on was throbbing between his legs.

"You're beautiful," he growled into her hair.

"Can you touch me, here?" she asked drawing his hand down between her legs, "I want to feel your strong hands on me and then inside me first," she whispered turning over onto her back.

Skinner nuzzled the side of her neck as he lowered his hand between her legs. He propped himself up on his other elbow. His fingers found her clit and he began to stroke it in lazy circles.

"Well, a little harder. Uh, I guess you'll have to forget about being too subtle here, Walter I...ohChrist - yes - that...that's fine," she moaned as he found the right rhythm, pressure and friction.

Marita began to rotate and buck her hips slightly as Skinner tugged and stroked her. She whimpered when he put first one, and then a second finger into her. He shifted so that he could continue to stimulate her outside with his other hand as well.

"God, oh God, that feels so good," she cried out and then Skinner felt her clamp down over his fingers and she arched up into his hands. "Ahhhhhhh," she gasped as spasms shook her. Skinner took her into his embrace and held her close as she trembled through her orgasm.

"Oh God, baby, that's good, that's it," he murmured kissing her hair.

"Walter I...Oh Lord," she mumbled against his chest. She stroked his chest hair and kissed his hard pectoral muscles.

"Shhhh, it's ok, just...let me hold you," he said quietly.

"I never really came like that before, Walter. Not without...not without the pain," she whispered, "Jesus, that was wonderful," she added.

Skinner didn't know what to say. He just held her and rubbed her back a bit.

"Walter, I'd like to feel you inside me," she whispered, "I want to feel safe."

Skinner pulled back from her slightly and looked into her eyes. There was a hunger there. Need and desire for the pleasure without the pain now. His need and desire were fueled by it. He wanted to give her everything he could. And he wanted to make it all feel wonderful for them both.

"I want to feel you around me, Marita. I want you to feel safe too. But I'd better suit up first. Hang on a second," he said. He kissed her forehead and shifted backwards to reach the other night stand. He opened the drawer and pulled out the condom in it's foil package. He tore it open and shook the condom out into his palm.

"Can I help you with that again?" she asked tenderly.

"I'd like that, Marita," he replied huskily.

Marita took the condom from him and Skinner rolled onto his back. His erection bobbed between them. Marita carefully unrolled the condom down over his length. She bent forward and kissed the tip when she was done.

Then she lay back down and Skinner rolled over next to her. They began to kiss again, their tongues dancing together. Skinner stroked between her legs and Marita rolled onto her back taking him with her.

"Are you all right?" he asked her.

"More than all right, Walter. God you feel so good."

"So do you baby," he whispered. Then he began to move against her. This time there was no hurting, no hurrying at all. Right now he wanted her to feel the ecstasy of a long, slow, tender fuck and he held himself under iron control as he pulled back and then thrust into her.

Marita closed her eyes and bit her lip. She began to arch up to meet his hips and soon they were moving together in a marvelously erotic slow motion ballet and in a perfect duet of passion and pleasure.

"Walter, oh my God this...Oh God," Marita groaned as she rotated her hips under him. "God I can feel every inch, I...Ohhh."

"Don't stop moving like that, JesusChrist that feels good, women...I..oh God..." Skinner sobbed. He knew he wasn't going to be able to hold back from really humping like hell in a second.

"Baby, I..I'm gonna have to..."

"No, that's good, I need you to...harder, yes, OhGOD..." Marita gasped. She reached up and grabbed his ass to encourage him.

Skinner grunted and then growled low. He began to pick up the pace, pumping into her harder and faster.

"Don't let me hurt you," was the last coherent thing he said before he dissolved into incoherent moaning.

"OHGODITALLFEELSSOGOOD," Marita cried.

She pulled her legs up farther and then moved them up higher yet to place them over Skinner's shoulders. She really wanted to feel all of him inside, hard, fast and as deep as possible. Skinner held onto her legs and began to drive into her hard.

"OHFUCK," he cried out as his thighs slapped against her ass. He was close, so close.

"Just do it, Walter," Marita cried out, "Fuck me, don't stop, don't stop..."

Skinner did as asked, and he soon felt his balls contract tight, and as his orgasm overtook him he moaned Marita's name.

"OHSHIT!" Marita screamed as Walter Skinner pumped into her at the height of his bone dissolving climax.

"What, what's wrong?" he gasped out as she stared over his shoulder.

"Fuck you, Alex!" she cried out.

"Fuck what?" Skinner sobbed as he strained against her. He felt a sudden pressure and then stabbing sensation in the back of his neck. He groaned and then he pitched forward, passing out cold on top of a cursing Marita Covarrubias.

xXx

So, did that live up to your fantasies?" Mulder asked with a sleepy grin as he held Scully close against him.

"Well, except for the sound effects..." Scully began.

"Sound effects? Hey you made as much noise as I..."

"Metallic boinks!? Well, if you think that was loud wait till I get you on the road at some cheap motel and then see how loud the furniture can *boink*." Mulder retorted.

"Uh, uh. Remember the rule?"

"Oh yeah. The RULE," Mulder smiled. Scully could feel his gentle laughter against her back. The couch was barely wide enough across for both of them to lie on. But that was just fine with her. She had to press really close to him. The couch hadn't been the greatest place to make love as it turned out. Not the greatest but it had been fun. She could still see Mulder thrusting into her with one knee on the couch seat and his other leg over the side, foot planted firmly on the floor for balance. It had been a bumpy ride but she'd hop back on the horse in a minute. She giggled at that thought and snuggled even closer.

"What?" Mulder asked as she wiggled against him.

"Oh, nothing. Have I told you yet how proud I am that you had that talk earlier this month with Skinner?"

"Twice."

"Well, I'm telling you a third time."

"And I'm thanking you a third time," he bent forward slightly and kissed the back of her neck.

"I just hope he listened to what I said about Marita."

"He's seeing her again this weekend."

"I know. Kimberly was in the woman's lounge crying again."

"Well, if it's any consolation, Mulder, she did tell me she was getting counseling. I think she needs it. She also said she's seriously thinking of resigning. She can't take the pain any more."

"Well, that's probably for the best under the circumstances. Especially with her law school work load. I just hope she can swing in financially." Mulder replied.

"She did say she had a small inheritance from an uncle so maybe she'll be all right."

"Yeah, I hope so. And I hope Skinner will be too. I told him to watch his back, Scully. I just hope to hell he listened to me."

"So do I Mulder. So do I," Scully answered, "now, let's go to sleep ok? I'm really tired."

"And so you should be, you wanton woman," Mulder kissed her a final time on the neck and then he reached up and pulled the top half of the blanket that was all ready under them over from the back of the couch. He wrapped it around them both and drifted off to sleep.

xXx

Fox Mulder was floating, floating, floating and then sinking, sinking, sinking rapidly. He hit bottom with a thick mental thud. "Jesus. What *was* I dreaming?" he thought. He knew he'd been asleep. He had been asleep on his couch, Scully spooned in front of him. He smiled and reached for her. His hand met something a lot more solid. Hard. Someone's back. Not Scully's back. A voice suddenly spoke up in his mind.

"Whoa, Foxhunt - hang on there. Let me finish this up and then I'll be right with you," the soft Southern drawl advised.

Mulder looked at his own arm moving under it's own volition over the back of some huge, muscular guy sitting next to him. "Jesus I'm having a fucking gay wet dream," he laughed to himself. He bent forward slightly to get a look at the other man, his idle curiosity getting the better of him. As he did so he heard a voice coming out of his mouth. It was like his own but different. It spoke in a Southern drawl.

"Waltuh, I want to warn you, buddy. I got a bad feeling about this one."

"About going back on patrol tomorrow? Why?" the other man asked.

"Not patrol, Sinnuh. I got a bad feeling about her."

"Who?"

"That blonde bitch, Waltuh. The one you were fucking doggie style. She's trouble, my man. Mark my words. There's a bad moon on the rise. Bad times comin'. Are you listening Waltuh? Do you get my drift?"

"Waltuh, Sinnuh? What the fuck?" Mulder thought in alarm. He peered really close at the other man. "HOLYSHIT!" It was Walter Skinner. Well, Walter Skinner like age 18 or 19... but fucking Walter Skinner as naked as a jaybird and sitting on a wet cum spot in the middle of some god damned mattress with mosquito netting around it in the motherfuckin' Hotel California or some other damn nightmare motel hell - HELP! - Wake me up! Get me the hell out of here...."

"FOXHUNT, SHUT THE FUCK UP! You're distracting me. I'll fill you in a second, son. There's nothing to be afraid of here. I'll take care of it all. Just hold your watuh for a minute," the Southern voice of authority commanded. Mulder ceased his mental gibbering instantly and watched as his body continued it's movement and his vocal chords danced to a different drummer. It was almost like hearing his own voice in stereo except one speaker output was coming out in hillbilly twang.

He continued to rub Skinner's back in lazy circles. He looked into his eyes. He didn't have his glasses on of course. Mulder could see his pupils. They were really dilated. Drunk or stoned he thought. Most likely stoned he amended as he remembered Skinner telling him he'd inhaled.

"Sure, John I get your meaning. I'll watch my step." Skinner was saying.

"John, you ok?" Skinner asked as he gently rubbed Mulder's arm.

"Ah am now, Waltuh, Ah am now." the voice of John Rand answered out of Mulder's mouth.

Presently Skinner was snoring loudly and Mulder carefully extricated himself from his arm and got out of the bed. He padded silently over to the tiny hotel bathroom. "God it's hot in this room," he thought. Tropically hot.

"Of course it's hot, Foxhunt. This is Saigon in the fucking summer," the Southern drawl ran through his mind.

"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck's going on?" Mulder asked the voice as his legs carried him into the bathroom. He turned on an overhead drawstring light. He sidled up to the can and lifted the lid. He watched the strange sight of some guy, a highschool class ring on his right hand, grabbing his dick and taking it out for a piss. It was disorientating and he swayed slightly throwing urine onto the floor.

"Oh hell, your aims no better than mine, Mr. FBEyuh."

"Well, you said you were running the show...what IS your damn name?"

"John Rand, Foxhunt. Waltuh calls me, Cracker. Pleased to meet you. Turn around if you're done watering that mule."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure the feelings mutual. And listen what the hell was going on in there?"

"You mean you don't know," Rand laughed a cackling laugh. He tugged on Mulder's dick.

"Christ, I didn't mean that. I figured out you must have been fucking. I meant what the hell was that stuff about the blonde bitch."

"Fucking? We were making love, Foxhunt. But that's beside the point. The blonde bitch is why I invited you to the party. You see, Waltuh needs help and I haven't been able to give it to him in the real world. I mean I can suggest things in here," he said gesturing wide to encompass the room, "But he doesn't always listen. He ain't listening now and it's getting him in big trouble, my man."

"Yeah, she's got him by the nuts right now. Her and that fucking boyfriend of hers. The Commie cocksucker. There's one where *Better Dead than Red* takes on a whole new meaning."

"Alex Krycek?"

"I don't know what the fuck his name is, Foxhunt. I just know he's gonna hurt Waltuh and I can't help the big dawg. So, somebody's got to save Sinnuh. It's got to be you."

Mulder stared at the reflection in the mirror. It was starting to fade slightly. "Oh shit, time must be about up," he thought as he felt a floating sensation start to run through his body.

"Wait, Cracker. Tell me, where do the blonde bitch and the Commie cocksucker have Walter? Where are they holding him?"

John's gentle Southern drawl came to Mulder then from a great distance as Mulder felt himself rushing, rushing up, up.....

"You know, Foxhunt, Waltuh really loves that 'Vette, that Chevy 'Vette Foxhunt. I hope you can save her too....." and then the voice was gone.

xXx

"Alex, you prick," The least you could have done was waited until he was finished," Marita shouted at Krycek breathlessly.

"Well of course I did Alex, he's a fantastic fuck. You would have come too."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think you were going to enjoy this so much..."

"Hey, this whole idea sucks! You know I wasn't in favor of it. I had to take some perks otherwise it would have been a total pain in the butt. Now help me roll him off for God's sake - he's heavy."

Marita was levering up Skinner's unconscious body. She was a bit weak from sexual satiation. She had managed to get his now flaccid penis out of her at least. And that had been no easy job with the condom still on.

"But, God he really had been wonderful," she thought. In the back of her mind there was sadness for Walter Skinner. She had enjoyed his company. She knew he was a decent man and he had tried hard tonight to show her just how caring and thoughtful he could really be as her lover. Under other circumstances, in another life, another time, another dimension, some place far away, Marita Covarrubias might have loved Walter Skinner. Instead, she was going to betray him, humiliate him and bring about his downfall and thereby indirectly bring about the downfall of their main targets, Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files. In the hard, cruel world of her life and her business, Skinner was expendable. No matter what her feelings for him or her regrets in doing it, she would complete her mission. If she didn't she'd be dead. And she was in no way ready to lay down and spread her legs for the grim reaper. No way, no how.

Krycek tugged on Skinner's arm and helped to roll him over onto his back.

Marita got up and stood next to the bed. Alex reached up with his real hand and stroked her breast.

"Don't touch me, you asshole," Marita hissed. She pushed away from him and went to gather her clothes.

"You're not going to tell me you care for this hunk of meat, are you mon petite?" he asked his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"No, I'm not going to tell you that. What I am going to tell you is to get your head out of your ass. We don't have much time. We have to get him down to the van and out of here. Now get him up into a sitting position, get his condom off, and let's get a move on."

"What if he wakes up?" Krycek asked half seriously.

"Then I'll cut and run and you can stay here to face the music because you gave him the incorrect dosage in that tranq dart."

"Well..."

"Oh for Christ's sake Alex. Do I have to do everything?"

"Marita you know how I'm never sure about those things. I'm just no good at guestimating weight. Especially on a muscle bound hunk of beef like this guy," Krycek whined giving Skinner a shove where he lay, drooling, onto one of the pillows.

"That should do it, Alex. Let's get him dressed and move him. Remember, he's had too much to drink and we're taking him home - not out, right?"

"OK, Ok, give me SOME credit, Marita. For God's sake."

xXx

"NO, NO, WAIT - JOHN! NOOOOO!" Fox Mulder yelled loudly. He woke up thrashing and Dana Scully was awake instantly as well. She was also flying through the air and then on her ass on the floor next to Mulder's couch.

She got up on her knees right away however, and grabbed one of Mulder' flailing arms, "Mulder, wake up, it's me. It's all right, I'm here, you're all right."

"Scully? God damn! Yeah, I AM awake now. Christ what a weird dream."

"Were you dreaming about...was it about Samantha?" she asked gently.

"Wet dream?"

"Yeah, I was fucking him."

"Mulder!?"

"Well, not Walter Skinner TODAY. We were in Vietnam and some guy, I mean...Jesus it's all mixed up." He sat up and swung his naked legs over the edge of the couch. He reached down and helped Scully to hoist herself up next to him.

"Are you ok?" he asked noticing for the first time that she had been pitched off on to the floor.

"I'm fine Mulder, now slow down and tell me what happened in this dream."

"Help Skinner?"

"Right."

"In trouble how?" Scully was frowning.

"The guy said that Marita Covarrubias and Alex Krycek had him somewhere hostage and were going to hurt him, maybe kill him."

"No, Skinner's lover...I mean his best friend in Nam. What was really weird was he looked just like me, Scully. I looked in a mirror and I saw his face and it was like - like I was looking into my own face when I was 19 years old. Scully I think Skinner's in terrible danger. We...we have to try to find him."

"Mulder..." Scully answered a note of skepticism in her voice.

"You don't believe me," Mulder stated flatly.

"Of course I believe you had a dream, Mulder. I just don't believe it meant anything. Look. We were talking about Skinner and Marita just before we fell asleep. We did mention how he needed to watch his back because you weren't sure she was trustworthy. Obviously that conversation stayed in your subconscious and when you went to sleep your mind conjured up that little scenario. Although I find the part about you...screwing Skinner rather interesting. But then again, statistically many men have homosexual..."

"Scully, I'm telling you this guy looked just like me and he...I mean it was so real."

"I'm sure it did seem real."

"He even mentioned that Chevy Corvette Skinner owns."

"Well, did he give you some more concrete evidence, Mulder? Something you wouldn't have all ready known or imagined about Skinner?"

Mulder looked over at her. Her eyebrows were raised and she had on her Dana *Just the facts* G-Woman Scully face again. Mulder smiled. "Well, at least she keeps me honest. Makes me work for it," he thought. His face turned serious and he ran a hand over his mouth.

"Anything, Mulder?"

"I'm thinking. Yeah, wait a minute - he gave me a name - John...John Rand. He said his name was John Rand and he was his best friend in Nam. They were on leave together. Maybe he was in the same platoon," Mulder replied with excitement.

"But Skinner told me everyone in his platoon was wiped out..."

"Well, if there was a John Rand in Skinner's platoon we should be able to access the Veteran's Administration records and find out."

They both looked up and over at Mulder's PC simultaneously.

"Let's do it," Mulder said.

xXx

They sat together at Mulder's desk staring at his computer, both had taken time to pull their clothes back on. Scully was seated at the keyboard mostly because she could type faster and also because Mulder's hands had been shaking a bit.

They had no trouble logging into the Veteran's Administration's database. The main page had loaded quickly and now Scully was navigating through the site to get to the Vietnam records area. She had been in the database before so her keystrokes were confident and quick.

"Did your dream man give you a middle initial Mulder?"

"No, just a nickname. He said Skinner called him Cracker."

"Cracker?" Scully asked shaking her head in bemusement.

"Yeah as in Georgia Cracker. He had a Southern drawl."

Scully made several more quick keystrokes.

"There's only one John Rand from Georgia that enlisted in 1973. You said Skinner enlisted in '73, right?"

"Yes."

"OK, then these should be his records. John C. Rand, Macon, Georgia, hang on." They sat and waited as the little hour glass icon flashed away on the screen. An error screen came up several seconds later.

"What the hell?" Mulder frowned.

"I don't understand this, his records have been sealed," Scully replied. She hit a couple of more keys.

"What?"

"Mulder, this code here in the corner. It means John C. Rand was special ops. The circumstances of his death are top secret. Did you know Skinner was special ops?"

"No. He never mentioned anything like that. He just told me he was the only one that survived the ambush of his platoon."

"Well, he told me that too - in the Boys Home," Scully replied quietly, "But he didn't say anything about being in special forces."

"Out of body experience?" Scully turned and stared into Mulder's eyes, "What out of body..."

"Didn't he tell you about the astral projection?"

"No," Scully replied mystified.

"Well, it's a long story, I can tell you about it later. Right now I think we really need to access these records."

"Mulder I told you I can't get in. The files are sealed."

"Who said anything about you getting in," Mulder replied reaching for his cell phone.

xXx

"Byers, answer the damn phone will you."

"What time is it?"

"11 PM. What does that have to do with answering the phone?"

"Frohike, shut up and answer it," Langly grumbled sleepily shifting next to the smaller Lone Gunmen.

"God damn it, Langly, get your foot out of my face."

"Get up and answer the phone then," Langly answered turning on his side.

Frohike extricated himself from the couch next to the reclining chair Langly was sleeping on and got up. He stalked past Byers. Byers looked comfortable lying under the covers in his bed in the corner. The bearded Gunmen had gone back to sleep. Frohike sighed. "So much for getting to bed early," he thought. With the plans to get up early and begin the new edition of the newsletter in the morning he was hoping for a decent 5 hours of sleep at least. "Well c'est la vie," he thought walking out into their main work room. He went to a desk and picked up the phone.

"Lone Gunmen, and this better be important."

"Frohike?"

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, did I wake you up?"

"Uh, no, no, I was just sitting here surfing the net. What can I do you for?"

At the mention of Mulder's name, first Langly and than Byers came out into the work room. Langly walked over behind Frohike.

"I'm trying to find out Ringo. Would you can it."

"Is Langly there?"

"Yeah, and Byers. We're, uh, we're putting in a late night on the newsletter."

"Good. I can use your help."

"Sure G-man. You know you can count on us. What do you need?"

Mulder explained the situation in brief giving what information they did have on John C. Rand.

"So do you think you guys can hack into the database and get at this guy's file?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"Piece of cake, Mulder," Frohike replied.

"Speak for yourself, Mel-vin," Langly griped.

Frohike had put Mulder on the speaker phone so they could all talk to, and hear him at the same time.

"Is there a problem, Langly?" Mulder asked.

"Tell him it's an emergency," Scully's voice came from the background.

All three Lone Gunmen looked at each other with eyes wide and eyebrows arched.

"Is that the vivacious Agent Scully?" Frohike asked.

"No - it's Tawny Kitaen. Of course, it's Scully, Frohike. I needed her help to try to hack into this thing."

Frohike shrugged. None of his business he thought. Still visions of what might have been going on in Mulder's apartment would fuel his fantasies for nights to come.

"I understand, it's urgent, Mulder. It's just that it's going to take a little longer than Frohike's piece of cake would indicate," Byers chimed in.

"Well, how long?"

"About an hour," Langly answered.

"OK. Call me back as soon as you have some information. I particularly need a photo. And thanks, I owe you."

"No problem Mulder. We'll be in touch," Frohike replied breaking the connection.

xXx

Walter Skinner woke into a world of hurt. His entire body ached but the worst of the pain was centered in the back of his head. There was a tremendous throbbing there that traveled from that location all the way up through the top of his skull. He felt like someone was driving an ice pick in at the base of his skull and giving him a reverse lobotomy.

He opened his eyes and tried to look around but the pain was too great. He closed them again. He tried to ascertain where he was by using his other senses. He felt like he was lying face down on a cheap mattress. It was thin anyway. He could feel that his wrists and ankles were shackled. It felt like they were shackled to the iron posts on the bed. He knew he was wearing only his boxers because he could feel the air and mattress against his naked skin. He sniffed and thought he smelled oil. It smelled like oil and gasoline. Trying to think harder soon caused him to became totally confused and disorientated. He struggled to focus.

He groaned loudly. "Where the hell am I. What the fuck was I doing?" he thought hazily. Then he remembered. "Oh my God, where...where's Marita?" he thought. Fear and panic threatened to overwhelm him. He twisted in his bindings and finally opened his eyes. The room was bathed in a warm glowing light. His eyes locked on Marita Covarubbias. She was standing at the foot of the bed, holding a Coleman lantern in her hand. He could almost see her despite the fact that it was hard to turn his head and he was without his glasses. He would have known it was her anyway. He could smell the Opium perfume.

"Marita, are you all right, what the hell is going on?" he asked in confusion. His voice came out in a croak. His throat was really dry. He was hoarse.

"I'm fine, Walter. Unfortunately, you're not," she sighed. Then she walked forward and sat down on the edge of the bed near his head. She placed the lantern down on the floor off to the side. Skinner noticed she had changed clothes since she'd been in his apartment. She was now dressed in a tailored power suit. Black. She looked like a fucking undertaker.

"What the hell do you mean?" Skinner asked.

"I mean you're in deep shit, Walter. Here drink this," she said bending down to pick up a bottle of Gatorade from the floor.

She tipped it up to Skinner's lips. It was hard to drink it lying on his stomach but he drank eagerly. He swallowed some a bit too fast however, and started to cough and gag. Marita pulled the bottle away.

"Easy, Walter, I don't want you to choke."

"Really? I'm surprised you're so concerned for my health," Skinner growled. Despite the crushing ache in his skull he wasn't too slow on the uptake. He knew he was in big trouble and he knew Marita Covarrubias wasn't at all what she had seemed to be. The realization saddened and then angered him almost beyond measure but he shook off the emotions temporarily. He stamped them down because they would only serve to further cloud his mind and he needed to be sharp. He needed to stay frosty so he could figure out how to get out if this situation alive and with all his parts in place.

Marita bent close to his ear, "Walter, I...actually I do care. Under other circumstances...things might have been different between us. I...enjoyed our time together. Maybe more than you'll ever know."

Skinner focused on her face, "Was it all a lie, Marita? A lie from the beginning?"

"And when we made love - not that first time - I mean today? Was that a God damned lie when you told me you..."

"Then why this now?" Skinner asked desperately shaking the chains and handcuffs that bound his arms.

"Because this is business you prick, so shut the fuck up," a voice came from the door in back of them. Skinner turned his head violently because he recognized the voice immediately.

"Krycek!" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"That's Mr. Krycek to you, asshole " Krycek spat out.

"Alex, couldn't you have let us have a couple more minutes in private? Marita asked, rounding on Krycek, murder in her eyes. She walked towards him, her back towards Skinner.

"No. You're going to miss your plane."

"Get the fuck out, Alex. I mean it." Skinner heard rather than saw the gun as a metallic click signaled a round entering the firing chamber.

Alex Krycek raised his hands in the air a smirk on his face, "All right baby. I'll give you your couple minutes. It's no skin off my behind if you miss your flight."

He turned on his heel and walked back through the door.

Skinner sagged against his shackles. Marita came back to the bed and sat down next to him.

Skinner wouldn't look at her.

"Walter, I just have one more thing I want to say to you."

"Don't bother, Marita. I don't want to hear it."

"Walter, please..."

"All right. But I wanted you to know...I am sorry. But like Alex said - this is business. Our business. You know the rules. We're all expendable."

"Right. Just like any war - baby," Skinner replied his words pitched to cut like a knife. Marita flinched and Skinner grinned through gritted teeth.

"All right, I deserved that, Walter. But Listen - I've told Alex - I told him that if he kills you I'll hunt him down to the ends of the earth. When I find him I'll shoot him in the genitals first so he can ponder life without a penis and then I'll kill him. I don't want him to kill you."

"Because you were never the real target, Walter."

"Mulder and Scully? The X-Files?"

"Yes. We knew if we took you they'd come running. And originally the plan was to kill you as well. But those plans have been...changed. She touched his cheek. He pulled away.

Marita stood up. Incredibly she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She turned quickly and let her high heeled feet carry her quickly from the room. She shut the door behind her.

Krycek was leaning up against the wall.

"Is he all tucked in now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, he'll keep," Marita holstered her weapon.

"How are you going to get through the metal detector at the airport with that hog leg?" he asked.

"I have a permit for it, Alex."

"Sure."

"Listen, what gives between the two of you?" he asked a bit more quietly gesturing towards the door at Marita's back.

"Nothing, Alex. I just...I respect him that's all. He was a good opponent. He deserves our respect. It's why I've told you I don't want him killed. Remember that - he dies you fry. Understand.?"

"Your wish is my command," Krycek assured her.

"Good."

"When will I see you again?" Krycek asked huskily moving close. He pulled her to him with his false arm. He stroked her hair with his real hand.

"In about a month. I'll see you in Vladivostock on April Fools day."

"Wonderful."

"Just don't BE a fool Alex. See that this plays out to the letter. I'd hate to get word that Mulder had gotten the best of you again."

"Don't worry, baby. That's not going to happen this time," he sneered.

Marita patted him on his cheek and then she turned on her heel and walked out of the warehouse.

Alex Krycek watched her receding back. "Bitch," he cursed.

"I'll see you in fucking Vladivostock and then we'll see who's the April Fool."

He wiped his good hand across his mouth. He could just hear Skinner coughing in the other room. A wicked smile spread across his lips.

"Ah ha, Comrade Skinner," he thought. Well, now he could finally have some fun. Of course he had to call Mulder. But not right away. First he wanted to have his own little talk with Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Marita had insisted he not kill Walter. "But that cunt didn't say anything about not hurting him," Krycek smiled wide as he sauntered over towards the door to Skinner's make-shift prison. As he walked he picked up a tape deck from a nearby bench. He hefted it up and then walked directly over to the door. He opened the door and stepped inside.

"Now where were we Mr. Skinner? Oh yes. Business...."

xXx

Mulder had paced back and forth for at least fifteen minutes in his apartment before Scully made him sit down and drink some herbal tea she made for them.

After he'd finished the tea, Mulder flopped down on the couch and Scully had sat down next to him. Neither one of them felt like talking at first. They just held each other. Mulder stroked Scully's hair.

"You really believed that dream." Scully stated.

"Yeah, Scully. It, it was like I was there in that hotel in Saigon."

"Mulder, you know I find all of that hard to believe. But...well the fact that you did come up with that name...now I just don't know."

"Scully I realize you've become more open to extreme possibilities...more open to your own faith. I know I've been the...well for lack of a better term - the doubting Thomas around here lately."

Mulder snatched it up from the coffee table.

"Mulder," he barked into it.

"Is your PC still on G-man?" Frohike's voice danced across space into his ear. His voice was filled with excitement.

"Did they get access?" Scully asked quickly.

Mulder held up a finger to ask her to be quiet. She waited.

"Did you get access to Rand's records?"

"Oh yeah, Mulder, it took a little digging but we got him, dude."

"A picture?"

"In living color. We're going to modem everything to you right now."

Mulder turned to Scully, "Jackpot," he said and gestured for her to follow him back over to the desk.

"Ok, Frohike, fire away," Mulder said into the cell phone.

"Yeah. Why?" Mulder asked annoyed. "Christ Frohike, just send the damn photo," he thought.

Frohike chuckled, "Just ask me that question again after you see this photo. Here it comes." Frohike replied.

"Ok, Frohike, I think we got it, hang on." Mulder reported back over the phone.

He clicked a couple of keys and the letter opened on the screen. The records were an attached file. He opened that as well. The photo was an inline graphic at the top of the file.

"Oh my God!" Scully exclaimed.

Frohike's voice came over the phone again, "Want to ask me why I wanted to know about that movie now, Mulder?"

"Uh, no Frohike, I don't. Listen. Thanks for your help. I owe you."

"You've got a deal," Mulder replied breaking the connection.

"Mulder, did you really look like that at 19?" Scully asked staring at John Rand's eerie resemblance to Mulder staring out from the PC's monitor.

"Well, I had more hair. But - it's an awfully close likeness, yeah."

"They say everyone has a double, Scully. The legend of the Doppelganger can be found in many cultures. Maybe John Rand is MY Doppelganger."

"Well, whatever he is, it says here he died inside Cambodia in a covert action. So, that must have been the reason these records were sealed. Skinner's platoon was inside Cambodia on a top secret mission at the time he was wounded and the rest were all killed in action."

"Covert? Right - the U.S., wasn't even supposed to cross INTO Cambodian territory."

"Mulder, this is really...spooky," Scully whispered. She reached around Mulder and pressed the down arrow key several times. She read the file further.

"What?" Mulder asked as he looked at Scully. A small grin played on his lips at her use of his nickname.

"Mulder, John's parents were named Bill and Tina. His sister was name Samantha," she said pinning Mulder's eyes. He was named after his father's brother however, a casualty of World War II."

"God..." Mulder answered the grin fading away.

"Yes."

"Scully, I think you'd better tell me anything you remember about Skinner's Chevy Corvette," Mulder replied turning to stare into John C. Rand's unseeing hazel eyes.

xXx

Alex Krycek placed the tape deck on the floor next to Walter Skinner's head. Skinner looked up into his face and if looks could kill Krycek would have dropped in his tracks.

"Are we having fun yet?" Krycek asked cheerily.

"Drop dead," Skinner spat.

"Been there, done that - well almost anyway," Krycek laughed.

"What do you want Krycek?"

"I want you to have some fun, Walter. So, I brought you some entertainment. Listen up, Mr. A.D.," Krycek replied. He bent down and hit a button on the tape deck."

Voices filled the room. Skinner couldn't help but listen. Krycek had jacked the volume up to maximum.

"Are you all right?" he heard himself ask. <Oh NO!> he thought.

"Yes." He heard Scully answer breathlessly.

Skinner could hardly believe his ears. He glanced up into Krycek's face. Krycek was smiling broadly as the tape played on.

"You feel good."

Skinner jerked up in his chains, "I'm going to kill you motherfucker, I really mean it. You're going to die a slow death and I'm going to spit on your unmarked grave!" He roared. Krycek reached under his arm and pulled his Sig out of it's shoulder holster. He placed it against Skinner's temple.

Skinner stopped speaking as he saw and felt the cold metal of the gun barrel touch his skull. It felt cool and almost soothing to the pain in his head. "If Krycek pulled the trigger it would really take care of this God damned headache," he thought in the back of his mind. His breath came in ragged angry gasps.

"It's all right, it's all right," Scully was crooning on the tape.

"Oh, Dana, please don't let me hurt you, please..."

Skinner could hear their bodies slapping together loud in the room at the Boys Home. He felt sick. His stomach started to twist. "Oh God, please don't let me vomit in front of this asshole," he thought. He held his gorge down as the tape wound on.

"OH Dear God." Scully moaned.

"Scully..."

"Walter, OHGOD, this is so FUCKING GOOD."

"Bitch, OH God You BITCH."

"Harder."

"JESUS!" He heard himself yell on the tape, "Don't stop, don't stop," he moaned "OHFUCK! OHCHRIST!" And as Walter Skinner reached orgasm and ejaculated on the tape his stomach ejaculated it's contents onto the bed and over the edge onto the tape deck below.

"You pig," Krycek sneered stooping to shut the tape off. Luckily no vomit had hit the off button he thought.

"It's your fault, you dick..." Skinner gagged. Krycek's blow to his head hadn't been overly hard but it had made the pain inside scream louder.

"Is that the thanks I get for trying to give you a good time. But, oh yeah. I should have known - you'd probably like a video instead."

"Video? Just make sure my close-ups are good Mr. Wes Craven. I wouldn't want *Scream 3* to be a flop now would I?" he growled.

Krycek laughed, "No worries about that, Mr. Skinner. You can see every zit on your tight ass on that video. Not to mention every hickey on Agent Scully's tits."

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you did that to us are you?" Skinner asked bitterly.

"Glad I could be so entertaining," Skinner grated.

"Yeah, well - I wouldn't say you were a total success. And besides - God, you jerk-off. Why couldn't you have had some self restraint. You cost me a bundle," Krycek griped. He stepped forward and using his prosthetic hand slapped him hard across the side of the face.

"Fuck you!" Skinner shouted at him. He came up in the chains again. He felt his mouth split in the corner. He tasted blood.

"In time..." Krycek whispered.

"What?"

"I said it's time I cleaned you up. Can't have you lying in your own vomit, now can we? Besides - you smell, Mr. Assistant Director."

Skinner shut his eyes. Thank heavens for small favors he thought. Krycek walked over to the door and exited the room. Skinner could hear him running water somewhere outside. He returned carrying something. Skinner squinted to see what he was toting.

Suddenly his entire head and half his upper body were covered with ice cold water that poured out from the upended bucket Alex had in his hands.

After the water, Skinner's head felt marginally better. Not a lot, but enough to help him to think a bit more clearly. He shook water off his face. He watched as Krycek studied him.

"Dream on, Walter."

"Well, could you at least wipe the water out of my eyes - I can't see a fucking thing."

Krycek sighed in annoyance. He looked around the room and then spotted something off to the right. He walked over and took a rag off a nearby desk. He came back over to Skinner and swiped the greasy rag over his face a couple of times. He threw the rag onto the floor.

"Grease," Skinner thought. "Could it be?"

"Krycek?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you at least tell me where I am?" Skinner asked quietly.

"Sure. You're in that unused office at the back of Hank Luttrell's storage facility. You know - right next to his garage. You're Chevy's right out there, under wraps."

Skinner struggled to look around from the position on his belly. He'd suspected the location but had really been unable to see because of the way he was shackled and the fact that he was sans specs.

"And you expect Mulder to find me here?" Skinner asked fishing for more information. Anything that might give him an advantage.

"Oh, Mulder will find out all right. Which reminds me - I need to make a phone call," Krycek replied.

"Phone call?"

"Yeah. Hang on." Krycek replied and then he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

He dialed Mulder's home phone number. The phone rang at the other end.

"You've reached Fox Mulder. Leave a message after the beep."

He pulled the voice distorter out of his other pocket and pressed it to the cell phone. He spoke through it into the phone's end.

"Mr. Fox Mulder this is an urgent message for you regarding a very close associate of yours. I would recommend you pick up if you're screening your calls." He waited a moment. There was no answer.

Krycek hung up the cell phone. "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder," he thought, "Trust you not to be home for an important call. Wish I had your cell phone number, but I don't. My mistake I guess. Well, no matter. I'll just try again later. Not being able to reach you will just give Walter and me more chance to play."

"What are you calling Mulder for?" Skinner asked the obvious question. Anything to keep him talking. He might slip and divulge some additional important information.

"I need to let him know where you are so that he and Scully can rush to the rescue. Then I'm going to dispose of them both. Two birds with one bullet so to speak." Krycek replied shoving the cell phone and distorter back in his coat pockets. "Unfortunately he isn't home at the moment. I'll just have to try back later. Or maybe I should try to call Scully. But on second thought a little bird told me they're together tonight. So, as I said - two birds with one bullet."

"You twisted, psycho bastard..."

"Tsk, tsk, Walter. Flattery will get you no where."

"Fuck you!" Skinner hissed at him again.

"You know, Walter, that's the second time you've said that in the last few minutes. I'm beginning to think it's a request," Krycek replied softly.

Skinner glanced up at him. Krycek was bending over slightly looking into his face. Skinner looked directly into his eyes. They were cold but there was also a dark spark in their depths. The spark of sexual arousal. Skinner swallowed hard. "Oh Christ," he thought. I don't believe this..." he let the idea trail off as Krycek stood straight again and stepped back. He took off his leather coat and draped it over the end of the filthy full size mattress.

"Crossed my mind," Skinner retorted sarcastically.

"Well, I've been using this as a base of operations for the last few days. It's a hole, I know. But it's better then some places I've been in." Krycek was kicking off his sneakers.

Skinner watched him unbuckle his belt buckle. The buckle was huge. It said Harley Davidson on it. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Ok. So I'm going to get it in the ass in more ways then one here. All right. It won't be like I haven't done this before. But...Jesus." Somehow he had a feeling that this time wasn't going to be nearly as pleasurable.

Krycek continued to talk as he removed his belt, "Well naturally I needed a mattress to sleep on. And of course it really came in handy when Marita was in town," he laughed. The belt dropped to the floor. The buckle clanked when it hit the cement.

Skinner took in a sharp breath. "So this was one of Marita's less then gentle men?" he thought.

Krycek heard his intake of breath, "You mean you didn't know I was having her too? Oh Yeah, Mr. Skinner. I fucked her in the ass right there on that mattress. And now I'm going to fuck you in the ass on it too," he smirked. He yanked both his jeans and jockey briefs down around his ankles in one quick tug. He stepped out of them and moved over towards Walter Skinner's head. He stood very close and it became all too apparent that Krycek was partially erect all ready.

"Can we talk about this...Alex?" Skinner asked in a last ditch effort to forestall the inevitable.

"Oh, so now it's Alex is it? One look at my cock and we're on a first name basis?"

"I guess we're beyond discussing this then?" Skinner replied.

"You'd be guessing right you cocksucker. I wish you weren't tied up on your belly. I'd make you *suck* my dick before we got down to the real business."

"Thank God for small favors," Skinner retorted, "Oh that was brilliant," Skinner thought, "by all means, antagonize your rapist."

Krycek reached over and slapped him in the face again. This time he felt his cheek split slightly. Blood oozed down towards the mattress.

"I'd like you to be quiet now, Walter. Quiet until I tell you to speak. You'll tell me what I want to hear even if I ask you to bark like a dog. You'll tell me or I'll break your knee caps. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Skinner answered in a clipped voice. He looked up into Krycek's eyes again. At that point, he knew he was in serious trouble. This man was insane. The only thing that was keeping Skinner alive was Krycek's tenuous promise to Marita and maybe his fear of her efficiency as a killer. Otherwise Skinner figured he'd be dead meat. But, he knew Krycek could still injure him very badly without killing him outright. Somehow life as a paraplegic or quadriplegic didn't appeal to him very much. If he didn't want to get hurt really badly he should cooperate now or suffer the consequences.

Krycek walked back to the foot of the bed again. He loosened Skinner's leg chains and pulled up on them, giving them more length. Skinner groaned as he was able to move his legs more fully.

"Don't get too ambitious, Walter. If you try to move around too much, or get up, or try to escape in any way I'll break something. So, just do as I say and you'll be fine."

"All right," Skinner answered quietly. He started to do his relaxation breathing exercises again. Karen Kosseff would certainly be surprised to hear about this usage of them. Yup. Skinner had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot of Dr. Kosseff after this little adventure.

Skinner strained to look back at Krycek. He wanted to at least try to see what he was doing, to get some kind of advance warning. He made himself very calm and prepared for what was going to come next.

Krycek climbed up onto the end of the bed. He grabbed at one of the pockets in his jacket where it lay over the frame. He walked forward on his knees. As he moved forward he positioned himself between Skinner's legs, spreading them with a kick sideways of each knee.

When he got to Skinner's ass he stopped and knelt down.

"I have to get these off you Walter, hold very still," he advised. Skinner couldn't see him now. He was directly behind him. He heard a brief metallic snick. "Switchblade," he thought. And then he felt Krycek cutting through his underwear.

He pulled the scraps of material away from his hips. Skinner was completely naked now. He heard Krycek drop the knife down on the bed somewhere. He closed his eyes. God, he was thirsty. He licked his lips.

"Oh, do that again, Walter, lick your lips. I like that."

Skinner did as he was told.

"Oh yeah..." Krycek whispered. Skinner could hear a soft sound. He gritted his teeth. Krycek was pumping his own cock. Getting it up for Skinner.

Krycek whimpered something low in his throat. It sounded like somebody's name. "Maybe it was mine," Skinner thought, "I'd better say something."

"What did you want me to do now?" Skinner asked. He tried to make it sound like he might be just a little interested in Alex's dick. Oh yeah right. He'd rather have Cracker Rand's Georgia mule's cock up his butt.

"Oh no you wouldn't Waltuh," Rand's gentle Southern drawl came instantly into his mind. "That son of a bitch used to kick like hell. And this sick fucker's going to do the same if you don't act like you're enjoying him."

Skinner started to answer him aloud.

"No, Sinnuh, not out loud. Just think it - I'll hear you."

"John, I don't know if I can take this. I...I'm scared man."

"Ah know Waltuh. But you have to take it. He's gonna make it hurt but just try to relax and think about that night in Saigon, buddy. I'll be right here with you. There's no shame in the act, Sinnuh. No shame as long as I'm here with you."

"All right, Cracker. I'll try."

"That's my big dawg. Ah know you can."

"I want you to stick your ass in the air, Walter. Get on our hands and knees and get ready. I almost am," Krycek sneered.

Skinner could still hear Krycek stroking himself. "Jesus. He must be as hard as a rock by now," he thought. He struggled against the chains to get onto his hands and knees. He shook his head slightly as a brief stabbing pain shot past his eyes. He felt suddenly nauseated again.

"Sinnuh, don't worry - I'll take care of your head buddy. Just relax." John Rand's voice echoed in his head.

A moment after he uttered the words Skinner felt the pain in his head recede and then disappear altogether. He almost sobbed in relief.

"Is this ok, Alex?" Skinner asked huskily.

"Oh Yeah, Walter. You have a great butt. Buns of steel. Hey! Have you done this before?" Krycek asked a smirk in his voice.

Skinner was silent on that one.

"Hell, never mind. I don't have time right now to listen."

Skinner heard a brief tearing noise. He sighed with relief again. Krycek heard his escaping breath.

"Didn't you think I was going to use a condom? Christ Walter. I may be a *twisted psycho bastard*, but I'm not stupid," he laughed, "and I don't take unnecessary risks."

Skinner heard him easing the condom over his erection. Krycek moved close to his ass.

"Sorry I don't have any lube though. Oh well..."

And without any warning Krycek thrust his cock up Walter Skinner's ass.

The pain was incredible. Skinner couldn't help it, he shrieked in agony, "JE-SUS!" he screamed. His breath came in gasps as he tried to fight the burning, ripping sensations emanating from inside his body. He knew he was bleeding inside. Tears sprung into his eyes. He bit his lip to shut off any more sound.

"OhGod, Walter. Nice and tight. Yessirrrr," Krycek hissed. Then he pulled back again and rammed into him. Skinner gripped the mattress with his hands. He braced his knees. He was beyond pain now. His mind wanted to go somewhere else. It did. He was in a bed in a Saigon hotel and John Rand was making love with him. Gently and tenderly.

"Waltuh, Ah never got a chance to tell you that night buddy. And then Ah never got to tell you at all. Ah loved you, Sinnuh. Ah mean - hell I'm sorry man. Ah loved you like Ah guess a man isn't supposed to love another man. But Ah did. Ah just wanted you to know, Walter. Ah want you to just think of that love now and it'll be all right. Let me hold you in my loving arms, Waltuh.

Skinner shut his eyes and fell into Cracker Rand's embrace. He told him quietly, in his mind, that he loved him too and he was so sorry he was dead. How he blamed himself for leading them into the ambush. He'd been on point after all he'd..."

John shushed him with a gentle caress, "We were both on point that day, Sinnuh. I'm to blame as much as you. But neither of us is really to blame for any of that shit. It was war, man. Don't fret about it. Just lie back and let me do you. Ah want to make it feel good."

Walter Skinner was more than happy at that point to take John Rand's suggestion.

"Fuck, Walter. God damn this feels good," Krycek was moaning over his back as he rocked against him.

"Is it gggood for you?" he stuttered out his question.

"Yes," Skinner gasped as John Rand sucked on his cock in a Saigon hotel.

"Krycek felt down between Skinner's legs.

"My, my Walter! This is even more impressive live than on Memorex," he chortled.

"Do you want me to bring you off, Walter?" he gasped. He bucked against Skinner's ass as hard as he could.

"OHGOD, yes, please..." Skinner moaned as Cracker swirled his tongue around the head of his rock hard cock.

"That's what I like to hear. Much better, Walter."

Krycek started to pump Skinner's cock in time with his thrusts up his ass. Skinner began to rock back and forth against Kryceks hip's and his hand.

"OH Baby, that's right. Oh yeah. Let me fuck you, fuck...Oh shit," Krycek's words dissolved into incoherent sobs and groans as he pounded into Skinner's ass and pumped him with his fist.

"Waltuh, you feel so good. I love you, Waltuh. I love you."

Skinner pumped hard into his fist. Krycek threw himself against his hips in a frenzied rhythm.

"You fuck, you asshole! OHGOD I love it. Fffuck. Oh God! Come on Fox, come for me - please. Oh dearGod, MULDER! You asshole!" Krycek screamed.

Skinner came back for a moment at the sound of Mulder's name screamed in ecstasy. He was in pain then but he started to laugh crazily. He could hear John Rand warning him to be quiet but he couldn't stop the words.

"Mulder? You stupid butt fucker! If you think I'm Mulder you've really got the wrong asshole, Alex."

"WWWWHAT?" Krycek choked out and then he smashed into Skinner's ass with one last tremendous thrust. Skinner cried out in agony again. He felt like his insides were being torn apart. It felt like Krycek was going to fuck him in two.

"UHHHHHHH," Krycek groaned as he came. He pistoned into Skinner several more times and then he yanked Skinner's erection hard. Skinner's orgasm took him as well and he mewled in his throat as he shot semen into Krycek's fist and onto the mattress below.

Krycek pulled out of him almost immediately. He held the condom tight but as soon as he was free of Skinner's body he pulled it off and tossed it as far as he could throw it.

Skinner started to collapse out of the kneeling position. He just couldn't hold his body up anymore.

Krycek cursed softly and reached forward. He grabbed the back of Skinner's neck with one hand, the hand that was slick with Skinner's cum. His other hand grabbed Skinner's balls. Krycek kept him on his knees quite successfully that way.

"OHJesus..." Skinner gasped as Krycek squeezed his nuts.

"I should rip these off, Walter, for that remark. Say you're sorry."

"I...I'm sorry," Skinner choked out. Krycek let up on his balls. Skinner gagged.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a thing for Mulder. I'm sorry if I..." he choked out.

"Shut the fuck up about Mulder. I don't want to hear it." Krycek shoved his neck and head back down. The violent push caused what was left of Skinner's strength to give way and he fell back down flat on the mattress.

"Walter, I asked you if you did this before. Have you let somebody fuck you in the ass? Tell me the truth, now. I'll know if you're lying."

"Yes. I did."

"I thought so you hypocrite. After you squirted all over me I figured as much. You were just a little too eager.

Who was it?" he asked with a tight voice.

"A friend in Nam. My best friend."

"Best friend? Isn't that sweet. Are you sure?"

"Fuck, yes."

"Are you sure it wasn't Mulder?"

"Mulder? Hell no. It wasn't Mulder."

"I don't believe you, Walter."

Krycek shifted over and got off the bed. He stood next to Skinner's ass. He trailed a finger over his buttocks. Skinner could feel him drag his finger through something wet. He knew it was blood.

Krycek reached over and grabbed Skinner's right leg chain and yanked it hard, looping it back around the bed post to take up the slack.

"Oh God," Skinner moaned.

Krycek repeated the process with the other one but as he gave the chain it's last pull to loop it he said, "I want you to tell me it was Mulder," in a low vicious voice.

He walked over and grabbing his jeans and briefs yanked them on. He picked up his belt and looped it around his good hand.

"What?" Skinner asked. He was dazed and in terrible searing pain from the rape and the several blows to his head. Despite the question, he was almost beyond caring now.

"Sinnuh, listen to me," Cracker Rand's drawl came quick and urgent into his mind.

"I'm trying, Cracker," Skinner replied.

"I tried to warn you to be quiet, son. But, it's too late now. Waltuh. This shitheel is gonna wail on you boy. Get ready. It's gonna be bad."

"I was afraid of that John..." Skinner replied in his mind. He gritted his teeth and waited for the first blow.

"I said I don't believe it wasn't Mulder, Walter. I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me it was Mulder."

Skinner looked up into Krycek's eyes for one last time. He decided to try again to forestall what was more than likely going to go down next.

"It was Mulder," he said, and then he closed his eyes tight.

"I thought so, you bald headed bastard," Krycek growled and then he hauled off and hit him hard across the face with the belt buckle.

"John...help me...please..." Skinner called out to his friend.

"Waltuh, I'm right here. Take my hand. Just hang on, buddy. Help's on the way."

Skinner's breath came in gasps as Krycek left the head end of the bed and began to apply the whistling belt to his shoulders and back. He brought it crashing down again and again.

"JesusGod..." Skinner finally moaned, unable to hold the sound in any longer.

"I'll make you see them both in a minute, you cocksucker," Krycek sobbed. He was almost overcome with the effort to swing the belt and cope with his monumental sexual arousal.

He climbed back up on the bed. He straddled Skinner's thighs and then he brought the belt back with both hands and sent it crashing down on his ass and then his lower back with all his strength. He lifted it again and since by this time the belt was slick with blood it flew from his grasp and sailed back somewhere to land on the floor behind them.

Krycek gave out a high crazy laugh, "Fucking hell! I lost my bbbbelt."

Skinner was groaning now without even knowing it. The suffering and fear were just too overwhelming. He prayed for unconsciousness but it wouldn't come.

"Shut up!" Krycek shrieked. He reached forward and hit Skinner hard in the head with his prosthetic hand.

Skinner was silent then. He was beyond vocalization. But he could still talk in his head.

"No you're not Sinnuh. It's bad but you're not going to die unless you stop trying to live. Now he's hit you in the head one too many times - Ah know. He's scrambled your brains a bit. Concussion city, buddy. But you gotta try to stay focused. Stay awake. Ah swear on my Plain Aunt Jane, help is comin'."

"I'm so tired, Cracker..."

"Ah know, Waltuh. But you have to stay awake. Listen. Let's sing a song. You remembuh this one, don't you boy? You should. Ah sang it enough. Why don't you sing along with me, son."

John Rand sat back and began to sing, <Ooh, a storm is threatening my very life today. If I don't get some shelter, oh yeah I'm gonna fade away.> "Now you give me the next line, Sinnuh."

Walter Skinner struggled to think as Alex Krycek replaced his whizzing belt buckle with his fists. Krycek was busy pummeling Skinner's kidney area and rib cage with his hands when the title of the song Cracker Rand had been singing came to Skinner's mind. It was *Gimme Shelter* by the Rolling Stones. It HAD been Rand's favorite song. Skinner felt hot tears well up in his eyes as he repeated the next part of the lyrics to himself.

"War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away. War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away," he sang. The tears spilled down his cheeks and mixed with his blood.

Krycek was standing on the mattress now and as Walter Skinner and John Rand sang the lyrics to Gimme Shelter he drew his leg back and delivered a stunning blow to Skinner's rib cage.

Skinner screamed in torment as he felt a rib crack under Krycek's bare foot. As the foot connected Skinner heard Krycek's moan of pleasure and he knew his attacker had shot his wad in his tight Tommy Hilfiger jeans.

Krycek stopped abruptly and jumped down off the bed. He walked back up to the head of the bed and bent low to stare into Skinner's face. The Assistant Director was indeed a mess. His face was blood, vomit and tear stained. The rest of his body looked like someone had re-fought Vietnam all over it.

Krycek smiled, "Well Walter, so much for post coital cuddling, hey?"

Skinner moaned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sore subject I guess," he laughed maniacally again. He bent to pick up the tape deck. It was still covered in puke. He made a face and straightened up again.

"On second thought, maybe I'll leave this here."

Skinner was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. He could hear John Rand yelling at him, begging him to stay awake. He wasn't sure he could. He really did hope help was on the way. He didn't know how much longer he could last.

"Walter I have good news and bad news." Krycek was saying as he tried to wipe blood off his feet with the rag he had used on Skinner's face. He frowned slightly, tossed the rag aside and started to put on his socks and sneakers. He continued to talk.

"The good news is - since I couldn't get through to Mulder earlier - you're going to have to hang around a little longer until I do. We can have lots more fun while we wait. The bad news is I have to leave you for a few minutes to...freshen up. Oh, and yeah. I have to see a man about a car," He finished jamming his second sneaker on.

Skinner struggled back through the haze of pain, fear and humiliation at the mention of a car. He spoke and his voice was barely audible. It gurgled in this throat through blood. Skinner knew with grim and utter certainty that his broken rib had punctured a lung.

"Your car, Walter. Your Chevy Corvette. But, I gotta ask you. Did you ever see that movie, *Christine*?"

"Oh, Nooooo," Skinner moaned in anguish.

"Ah ha. I see you did. Well, Walter, you sit tight. I'll be back in a few minutes. Oh, and rest if you can. I'll try not to make too much noise." Krycek grabbed his leather coat from the end of the bed and shrugged it on. He whistled as he walked away from the bed towards the room's door.

Skinner's head sagged back down onto the mattress and he began to cry in earnest at the thought of what Krycek was about to do to his red '61 Chevy Corvette Convertible.

xXx

Alex Krycek sauntered out of Walter Skinner's prison and headed off to the bay where his Chevy was stored for the winter. He knew where it was because he and Marita had uncovered it one night and fucked like rabbits in the back seat. God that had been a rush. Marita really shouldn't have mentioned losing her virginity in the back of a car. But then again maybe she'd told him about it on purpose. Either way she had screamed for more when he'd put it to her. It had been really fine.

Krycek had considered getting some clean briefs and jeans out of his duffel bag. But he thought better of it when he contemplated the job ahead. Yup, smashing up Skinner's Chevy was probably going to give him another serious hard on anyway. He didn't need to shoot into a clean change of clothing.

He smiled as he collected the crow bar he'd stashed against the warehouse wall. He walked on.

The warehouse wasn't dark. It was early dawn now and the light was just spilling in through the grimy high placed warehouse windows. It gave Krycek enough light to see as he walked. He drew up to the bay where Skinner's car was parked. He walked forward and lifted the tarp that covered it. He pulled the tarp back completely and dropped it on the floor in back of the car.

As he walked back towards the car's hood, he ran his hand along the car's side in appreciation. It really was a beautiful machine. A shame to destroy it. Well, it couldn't be helped now. If Skinner just hadn't let Mulder fuck him..." Krycek frowned at the thought. He stepped back and focusing his gaze on one of the car's headlights he raised the crow bar back.

He heard a clicking sound and then the touch of a hard metallic object on the back of his skull.

"Move and you're a dead man, Alex."

"Mulder..." Krycek crooned low in his throat.

"Hold your arms up high, higher. Stretch them up. That's good. Now - hold that crow bar real tight."

Krycek felt Mulder pat him down quickly. He shut his eyes and savored the sensation of Mulder's hand between his legs.

Mulder pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. He sensed rather than saw Mulder jam the gun into the top of his jeans. Krycek was sorry he'd left his knife in the other room.

"Scully!" Mulder called. Dana Scully stepped out from behind a post. She had her gun trained on Krycek's head.

"Ah ha, the second half of the dynamic duo," Krycek sneered.

"Where's Skinner?" Scully hissed in anger.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Ok, I guess this is End Game," he thought, "to the victor belongs the Skinner." He almost giggled. He'd have to make an attempt to escape. He figured by splitting up *Batman and Robinette* he'd have a better chance at that plan.

"Back that way," Krycek answered, "There's an unused office in the back," he added with a gesture of his head.

"Scully, check it out," Mulder said without taking his eyes off Krycek. He stepped back a bit. He still kept his gun trained on him.

"I'm on it," Scully replied heading away towards Skinner's prison.

"Can we talk about this, Fox?" Krycek whispered, "We can make a deal can't we?"

"Fuck you, Alex," Mulder hissed.

"I only wish," Krycek sighed to himself.

"Why?" Mulder asked suddenly.

"Why what?"

"I think you know, Mulder," Krycek sneered.

Mulder sighed. Oh yeah. He knew. But he was going to make it all right now. He wanted to even the playing field.

"Mulder, my arm's getting tired holding up this crow bar."

"Drop it then, Alex. But do it slowly," Mulder answered. He reached for the handcuffs on his belt.

"MULDER!!!" Scully's scream reached him from all the way in the back of the building.

Just as she screamed Krycek spun around and hit Mulder's gun hand with the crow bar. It wasn't a hard smack, just enough to knock the gun away. He gave Mulder a slightly harder smack in the shoulder and Mulder went down. Krycek turned and ran. Mulder was up quickly, retrieved his gun, and started to pursue the fleeing man. Krycek had disappeared somewhere amongst the tarp covered stored cars.

"MULDER! PLEASE, I NEED YOUR HELP!" Scully was screaming again. Mulder's mouth went tight. He was going to have to let Krycek go. He decided to do it and he re-holstered his weapon and ran in the opposite direction towards the sound of Scully's voice.

xXx

Dana Scully bent over Walter Skinner's battered body. She was trying to pull her cell phone out and examine him at the same time. She checked his vitals. His pulse was weak and thready. She rolled an eyelid back. "Concussion," she thought instantly. She didn't want to touch his body. From the look of things he probably had internal injuries. He most likely had at least a broken rib if the livid purple bruise on his rib cage and ragged gurgling breathing were any indication. She succeeded in manhandling her cell phone out of her coat pocket. She dialed 911.

Mulder came dashing into the room.

"Oh Shit!"

"Mulder come over here," Scully was saying and then she was barking instructions into the phone to the 911 operator. She concluded the call and put her cell phone back in her pocket.

"God Scully," Mulder whispered. He looked into Scully's face. She had on her Doctor Dana Scully expression, but underneath it was gut wrenching fear.

"Mulder, he's injured very badly. I...I hope the ambulance gets here in time."

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

"No, we just have to wait for the paramedics."

Skinner groaned suddenly. Scully knelt down next to the bed at his head. She gently touched his forehead and stroked it, "Sir...Walter...it's Scully. It...it's Dana. Don't move, Walter. An ambulance is on the way. Can you hear me? Lie still."

"Ddddana? Where's Cracker?" he whispered through his split lip.

"Cracker?"

"Where's Jjjjohn..." he whimpered.

"I'm right here, Waltuh," Mulder replied in a quiet, gentle drawl.

"Scully glanced up into Mulder's hazel eyes. There was a far away look in them. Scully's hair went up on the back of her neck. She stood up and moved back. Mulder walked over and knelt down where she'd been kneeling.

"I'm here, Sinnuh," Mulder whispered. He placed his hand on Skinner's head and stroked it tenderly, "Don't talk now. Lie quiet. You gotta conserve your strength."

Skinner's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. Then he coughed violently, "I thought you left me, Cracker..." he choked.

"I'd nevuh do that Waltuh. I'm here buddy. Hang on," he rubbed between Skinner's shoulders and his coughing subsided.

Mulder looked back over his shoulder up into Scully's face, "Say, Red. Could you go down and watch for that Med Evac. Those corpsman might have trouble finding us in here."

Scully's eyes went wide. She was looking into Fox Mulder's face but Fox Mulder wasn't at home at the moment. Someone else was looking out through his sad hazel eyes. Someone much younger, with a Georgia twang.

"Uh, Yes - I can do that...Cracker," she whispered.

Mulder's mouth pulled up into a goofy appreciative grin, "Thank you Dana. Foxhunt's a very lucky man." He turned back to stare at Skinner. He stroked his forehead. "Thank you, ma'am. Ah... Ah know Waltuh thanks you too," he added quietly.

And as Scully turned to go, Mulder began to croon an old Rolling Stones song into Walter Skinner's bloody ear.

xXx

"Now you see, Jack, these folks are doing fine. They're going home tomorrow, most of them. Except that big guy. He's going home today."

"The bald headed dude with the glasses over by the window?"

"Yeah."

"Are those his family members?"

"The red head and the tall guy?"

"Yeah."

"No, those are his agents. I mean they're FBI agents."

"His agents?" This was Jack Martin's first day on the job at *Holy Respite*. Leonard was his supervisor. He supervised all the orderlies. It was his job to give Jack his orientation. Leonard ran a hand over his dark face. He chuckled slightly.

"Yes. That's Walter S. Skinner. Mr. Skinner is an Assistant Director at the FBI. He's their boss."

"God, that red head's an FBI agent?"

"Yes, and a doctor too. Forensic pathologist as a matter of fact."

"Jesus, I'm in the wrong job," Jack laughed.

"Sorry."

Leonard smiled and nodded his head.

"So Mr. Skinner is going home today. How long has he been here?" Jack asked.

"Six months."

"Whoa."

"Well he spent eight weeks in the regular hospital. He was beaten senseless I guess - wounded in the line of duty as they say. Almost died. His body healed up and they were just about ready to release him from Georgetown Medical when blam - he hared out."

"Combination of things. It seemed he was raped as well as beaten. That and the PTSD sent him over the edge rather suddenly I gather. It took six orderlies to subdue him at Georgetown. He was on a Thorazine drip when they brought him here."

"Yup," Leonard answered running a hand over his closely cropped afro, "Class of '73 - just like me," he added nodding his head.

"That must have been rough," Jack replied.

Leonard knew he meant Skinner's hare-out and subsequent restraint in the drool ward at the clinic. But it fit the war experience too.

"How come he's here and not in the Vet's hospital psyche ward?"

"Well, the tall guy over there - evidently he's got connections in congress. Some senator authorized Walter's transfer to *Holy Respite*. Arranged for him to take a medical leave of absence and retain his old job so he can go back to the Bureau when he gets out. He's been in my, the nun's and the shrink's care ever since he got here, though. I like him, Jack. He's a really decent guy now that he's healthy again. But for a while there he was in a very bad way."

"That was strange, actually." He was very uncommunicative even after they took him off the drugs. He just used to sit in that sun room and stare out the window. Well, one day the radio was on in there. One of those classic rock stations. I was sitting across from Mr. Skinner, trying to get him to talk. He was just sitting and staring. Well finally, a Stones song came on that radio."

"The Rolling Stones? Great group."

"Yeah, they still rock," Leonard agreed, "At any rate - this old Stones tune, *Gimme Shelter* came on the radio. Well, Mr. Skinner stopped staring out the window and he sort of cocked his head. I knew he was hearing the music. I asked him if he liked that song. He said, "Cracker liked that song," and then he started to cry, Jack. Cracker was his best friend in Nam, I guess. Uh, his dead, killed in action, best friend. At any rate, the tears just came running down his cheeks. After that he started to talk and it was up hill all the way from that day in the sun room.

"Yeah, it was just one of the good things you see in this job every once in a while. He's going home later today. I'll be happy as hell but kind of sad to see him go. He plays a hell of a game of gin rummy. Leonard chuckled under his breath.

Jack nodded his head. He watched as the tall man and the red head got up to leave. Walter Skinner stood up and shook the tall man's hand. After he let go the red head stepped forward and hesitating just a moment, hugged Skinner around the waist. The older man acted slightly surprised and stood a little stiffly. The tall guy laughed. The red head laughed as well and then she let go and stepped back.

Jack watched as they crossed the sun room towards the entrance opposite. They stepped through. Skinner sat back down at the table by the window and picked up the book he had been reading before his guests had come in.

Almost as soon as he picked up the book a rather attractive blonde pushed carefully through the glass doors Mulder and Scully had just exited through.

"Who is she?" Jack Martin asked with appreciation in his voice.

"Whoa, *hoss*, rein it in. She's visited him almost every week since he's been in here. She spent plenty of days sitting across from him when he was doing his sightseeing act. I think she's taken buddy. I think Mr. Walter Skinner has someone waiting for him when he gets back to the real world.

xXx

Walter Skinner stretched and picked up the book on the Corvette Museum that he had been reading. He grinned a bit. It had been nice to see Mulder and Scully. They told him everything was going fine at the Bureau. He'd be glad to get back into the office on Monday. Sure, he'd have some follow up care with Pete Marovitch's group at the VA but his prognosis was excellent now. He thought it was high time he got back to work. He needed to interview candidates for the Executive Assistant position since Kimberly had tendered her resignation he thought. Mulder said there had been a lot of resumes mailed in for the job.

Skinner heard someone approach his chair. He looked up from the book he was about to read. He smiled. The blonde woman smiled back.

"How are you doing today? Feels great to be going home doesn't it?"

"You've got that right, Kimberly. Hey, sit down..." he indicated the chair next to him.

"Thanks. I see your reading the book. Is it interesting? I thought it looked good when I bought it."

"Yeah, it's great. I...I'd really like to take a trip to actually see this place," he replied lifting the book up slightly. He placed it carefully down on the table.

"Good, I'm glad you like it, sir."

They sat together in companionable silence for a moment. Skinner studied Kimberly's face. He had never noticed her eyes before. She had brown eyes. They were sort of a caramel color. Not dark like his. They were the color of maple syrup. They were soft and kind. Skinner smiled.

"So, they're springing you at what time?" Kimberly asked smiling back.

"I'm due to have my exit interview at 1 PM, I guess. Then it's hasta la vista Sisters of Mercy."

"How are you getting home, sir?"

"Oh, I figured I'd just take a cab."

"All the way to Crystal City? That will cost you an arm and a leg."

Skinner chuckled, "Don't worry about it - the Bureau will spring for it later."

"Well, listen. Why don't you let me take you home. I can go run some errands and then come back at 1. How would that be?"

Skinner looked into her face again. He felt a pleasant feeling fill his chest, "I don't want you to go to any trouble, Kim."

"All right, that would be just fine, Kim. I'd appreciate the ride."

"Good," Kimberly reached forward and touched Skinner on the forearm."

"Kimberly - I...I want to thank you for everything," Skinner whispered.

"It was all my pleasure, sir. And like I said - I would have done everything I could to help. Anything."

"Well, I do have two other things I'd like you to do," Skinner said, smiling into her eyes.

"Just ask, sir."

"Can we stop for coffee on the way to my apartment? The coffee in this place was horrible. I'm desperate for a decent cup of coffee."

Kimberly laughed, "Oh sure...no problem. I could really use the caffeine myself. But you said two things..."

"Yes."

"What else?"

"Would you call me, Walter, Kim. The *sir* stuff is getting kind of old," he smiled at her and the smile traveled all the way up to his eyes.

"I think I can manage that Walter...I really think I can." Kimberly Cook answered, softly. She let all the love she felt for Skinner show in her eyes. She squeezed his hand.

Walter Skinner smiled even wider and in the back of his mind he could just barely hear a soft Southern drawl singing. The voice sounded joyously happy, and Skinner heard it clearly even as the voice began to fade away:

Mmm, the flood is threatening, my very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I'm gonna fade away
War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away
It's just a shot away, it's just a thaught away, it's just a shot away

I said, love, sister, it's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away
It's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away, kiss away, kiss away, yeah

DISCLAIMER #2: Ok, Alex Kyrchek alias twisted psycho bastard also belongs to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from his use, either. The lyrics to "Gimme Shelter" belong to Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and BMI records. Once again no copyright infringement is intended etc. etc. Thanks for putting up with these hidden disclaimers. I love a surprise and I hope you do too.
-THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY-