Title:Watcher:Nightmare

Author/pseudonym:Debra Fran Baker

Fandom:X-Files

Pairing: Mulder/Skinner/Krycek

Rating:PG

Status: new/complete

Archive: Yes

E-mail address for feedback: dfbaker@panix.com

Series/Sequel: Watcher

Other websites: http://www.panix.com/~dfbaker

Disclaimers: Not mine.

Summary: Sometimes the truth is more than you want to know.

Warnings: No sex. None. They put *on* clothing.



WATCHER: NIGHTMARE
By Debra Fran Baker

I was in Wonderland, with Fox Mulder in my arm and Walter Skinner wrapped around both of us. It wasn't paradise. Mulder was just sitting on the floor, staring into space - the best I could say was that he wasn't rejecting us. I didn't know what was going through his head, but the possibilities scared me.

Skinner sounded scared as well. Mulder turned to look at him.

"What else do you know? What else do you sons of bitches know about me?"

His voice was empty.

"What do you want to know, Fox?"

"Everything. Nothing. I don't know. Who the hell am I?"

I tightened my arm. He didn't seem to notice. "You're...who you always were."

"What the hell does that mean?" He tore himself from our arms and began pacing the room. He was still naked from his shower. "Am I even a normal human being?"

I looked at Skinner. "What do you mean?"

"Am I a normal human being?"

"What do you think?"

"You say I'm an empath. I know I don't forget anything. I know I make...connections no one else makes. How much of that was...engineered into me? And where did it come from?"

"So far as I know, Mulder, all your genes are purely human."

"As far as you know? You mean it's possible I'm not?" I had never seen Mulder's eyes that empty.

And I had nothing to fill them. "I don't know, Mulder. I just don't know. But I can tell you...all your skills are byproducts. They wanted a telepath. They didn't worry about your intelligence or your memory or anything else. Before *or* after you were born."

"So I am a failure. Why was I allowed to live, then?"

"Mulder..."

"I wasn't supposed to live. I was supposed to be put down and...and autopsied like a lab rat, so they could find out where I went wrong." Why did he have to be so brilliant?

"You..."

"Why?"

"Your father...fathers. For different reasons." Skinner let go of me and found a pair of pants. He pulled them on and sat on the bed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Bill Mulder and GBD Spender each had their reasons for keeping you alive and under...observation. They didn't tell me what they were, but I could guess."

"What used did they have for faulty merchandise?" Mulder walked back to the bed and buried his head in his hands. Skinner moved closer and touched him on his shoulder. "Get your hands off me, you son of a bitch!"

Mulder exploded off the bed as Skinner and I stared at him in shock. He ran past me. I reached for him and he pulled his leg away. "You, too, you rat bastard. You knew, you *both* knew."

"Mulder..."

"Just shut up. If you can't say the truth, don't say anything. All those years...all that...you *sure* Scully doesn't know, too? She's not lying to me? I can still trust *someone*?"

Skinner closed his eyes against Mulder's words. "I didn't have a choice, Fox." He took a deep breath. "I wasn't going to risk your life. And they told me that you'd be killed if you found out."

"Isn't that *my* choice? Isn't it my life to risk?"

"No, Mulder." I struggled to my feet and found my own jeans. I used Skinner for balance while I pulled them on. "It's not your choice."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He clenched his fists.

"Listen to me. We can't risk your life because we *need* you. We *all* need you." Even Skinner stared at me at that.

"Explain yourself, Alyosha."

"I thought I was a failed experiment."

"You were. The same way Alexander Fleming failed to grow healthy staph on that petrie dish."

His eyes widened. "You can't mean that."

"I do. Mulder, listen to me. They were breeding for telepathy, but it was the wrong thing. The...the invaders can't be detected that way. They can disguise their thoughts, hide from your sister and that little boy."

"My...my sister? She...I don't remember her reading minds, Krycek."

"That's because she wasn't given near-toxic levels of drugs at home. The same sort I had to put in your water once, but at a much higher level. I told them it wouldn't work, and was a mistake."

"They killed her."

"They did."

"So...why am I so valuable? Where did I succeed?" He started pacing again, his hands still clenched.

"They can't hide from you. The invaders, the rebels. None of them. You *feel* them...they can disguise their thoughts but not their emotions. Maybe it's too primitive a level for them, or they forgot they had them, but we've watched you. You always *know*. Even when I had the black stuff, you sensed it."

He looked at me, his eyes wide. "How did you know? I barely knew myself. I kept feeling something different about you."

"Because you acted different. You kept staring at me."

"You are *pretty*, Krycek, remember? I was ready to take you across that phone bank."

I bit my lip. "I know the difference. You wanted me, sure, *before*. But not after it entered me. I'm not vain. I can't afford vanity. Not anymore."

Skinner moved closer to me, and stroked my bad shoulder. I forced myself not to shake him off. Mulder stared at us for a moment.

"I'm an empath. I can detect emotions...I can..."

Skinner nodded. "That's why you were a good profiler. And why it nearly drove you insane. They hoped it would be the best place for you - safe at Quantico, you know?"

Mulder began to make this noise - it wasn't laughing and it wasn't crying. It hurt to hear. He backed up into the wall and slid down until he reach the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees. Only then, when he had hidden himself, did I realize that he was still naked.

"Fox?"

"You...you thought I was...I was *safe*?" He shook his head and made that strange sound again. I shuddered and leaned closer to Skinner, hoping to absorb some of his stability.

"You were. Physically. Profilers don't go out in the field." How could Skinner be so calm? "We were wrong."

"And the whole reason...my...talent...oh, damn..." The strange sound became harsher. There were tears. "And all...all that time...You can't know."

"Fox?"

He looked up at us - rather, he looked in our direction but I don't think he saw us. Even as the tears fell down his face, his voice became empty. "They called me spooky because I could get into the killers' heads. Do you know what it's like to *know* exactly what a serial killer is? To be him? To feel the pleasure or the relief when they take a life? The other profilers could, almost, do that, but...me...it was different. I knew it, they knew it. And we all thought the same thing. If I could get into that headspace so easily..." His breath became ragged. "Then...what was I?"

I turned to face Skinner. Neither of us could answer that. He didn't wait for an answer.

"I've been waiting for it ever since."

"Waiting for what?" I couldn't speak above a whisper.

He focused on me. His voice became matter of fact. "For the day I woke up and needed to kill. When I can't sleep and I'm alone and I don't have a case or TV to distract me, I wonder what my trigger is going to be. When I can sleep, I have nightmares about killing people - feeling their blood pour out, or their lives crushed out under my hands. And sometimes I scream myself awake. Those are the good ones."

"The good ones?" I had to force the words out.

He nodded. "The bad times are the ones when I wake up and find myself covered in semen. Those are the mornings I stare at my gun for an hour before forcing myself to go to work."

Skinner's eyes widened in horror. "My God, Fox."

Mulder looked straight into those eyes of his. "What God? Walter, the only thing that kept me going was the hope that I'd be able to eat my gun when...when the dreams became real, before I gave in. Or maybe that you or Scully would do it for me. You would, right? You'd kill me when my monster comes out?" He sounded hopeful, even eager.

Skinner tightened the hand on my shoulder to the point of pain. I welcomed it. "I won't let you become a monster."

"Too late for that. I was born a monster. Just ask...the ones who built me, just like Frankenstein. Hey, Walter, how does it feel to be Elsa Lancaster?"

"I don't have the hair for it. Mulder, I've seen you. I've seen you come close to killing - but you've only killed when you had no choice."

"Yeah. One drink can send an alcoholic over. But...I was wrong all these years. All these years, I've been in that hell, and the monster isn't in me. It was all them. Right?"

Walter was crushing my shoulder. I buried my head on his chest. I couldn't face those hopeful eyes.

"No! You can't do this to me!" He jumped to his feet. "You can't play these games with me! I'm *sick* of the games, I'm sick of the lies, of all the little secrets. You told me one truth. Tell me another. Or am I a monster? Tell me!" He stepped towards us. For a moment, it looked like he was going to grab Skinner's neck, but he stopped and looked at his hands in horror. "I can't stay here! I have to leave." He grabbed his clothing and ran to the door.

Skinner was there before he got there. He stood with his arms folded against his chest. "I can't let you go, Fox."

"You *can't*? You can't let me stay. I...I'm dangerous."

"You stopped yourself." They both looked at me. "You thought about hurting Skinner but you stopped yourself. Think about that, Mulder. You were not berserk, not out of control - you never were. Not even when you were beating me up...when I let you beat me up. You never went to the point you couldn't stop."

"I can...I can feel it, inside of me. And sometimes...I wanted it, Walter. I wanted to feel your neck between my hands, feel the life leaving it. I could feel it take over." He struggled into his clothes.

Skinner turned white at those words, but he betrayed nothing in his voice. "But you didn't. You didn't give in to it, let it take control. You fought it...and it wasn't much of a fight, was it?"

Mulder shook his head. "I will not let myself hurt you. I can't...it would be...it would be worse than hurting myself." He looked at me. "I'm sorry, Alex. You were there, and you were...you were willing to hurt me back."

"Only in the beginning, Mulder, before I realized it wasn't a sex game. When...when I realized I was feeding your demons. You weren't born a monster, Mulder. Monsters aren't born."

"But I am one. Nature or nurture, it's all the same. I am what Bill Mulder made me. And one day I'm going to get tired of fighting. I'm tired now. I'm tired of running away from myself. I can't ditch myself. I wish I could. I wish I could...wipe myself clean and start over." His eyes grew wild. "Do it. They've already stolen hours out of my life. Why not all of it? Remake Fox Mulder into someone who isn't teetering on the brink of insanity."

"No."

"Why not, Krycek?"

"Because then...it would be your body and your face but not you. And I love you - all of you, including your monster."

"No!"

"And so does Skinner. And even Scully."

Skinner nodded. "I told you that. I don't love a beautiful mannequin. I love a man." He looked at me then, and what I saw made me shy back on the bed. His eyes didn't change when they moved from Mulder to me.

"I...I'm sorry. I can not handle this. If I could love you, I would. If I only..." He began to shake again. Skinner pulled him close, wrapped his arms around him, but Mulder pulled free.

"I...I promise, I'm not going to do anything, but I can't stay here. I can't breathe. I'll be in Alex's room. I need to call Scully, anyway. I haven't bugged her in hours, and if she gets worried, she *will* track me down, and probably whip our asses."

"I don't want you to leave, Fox. Not now."

"Please...there's too much here. I'm just going next door. Look, if you don't trust me...here's my wallet, here are my guns...here are my damn shoes! You can even take my belt. Here..."

"I don't want your damn belt, Fox." He tossed it to the ground.

"Walter, please...I need you to take it." Mulder looked desperate. I remembered some of the games we played.

"Skinner...take it." He stared at me for a moment and gave a quick nod. Mulder smiled then, just as briefly, and went next door. A few minutes later, I could hear what could only be Saturday morning cartoons coming through the thin wall separating our motel rooms.

"He's not going to be all right, is he, Walter?"

Skinner shook his head as he walked back to me. I wrapped my arm around him as best I could.

"He's never been all right. They made sure of that. But I think he's...safe right now." He leaned into my shoulder. "As safe as he'll ever be from himself."

I had Skinner's strength and beauty all to myself at that moment, and all I could was strain to hear Mulder talking to his partner over the sounds of children's violence.



The End

Copyright 2000 Debra Fran Baker and NightRoads Associates