Fandom: XF  (M/K)

Series: Part III of Not On My Watch

Rated NC-17  language and m/m sexual situations

Summary:  Okay, time to find out who my friends are. <g> This is part three in the Not On My Watch Series. Those of you who read part two know that there were hints thrown about Skinner's feelings for Mulder. We're about to deal with that. And, in my defense, let me just say....wait...you know what? I'll tell you at the *end* of the story.

Disclaimer: Mulder, Krycek, Scully, Skinner and Cancer Man belong to CC. Anyone else who appears in this story is a creation of my own mind...or...what's left of it.

Eternal thanks to Nic for wonderful beta, constant encouragement and always listening to my mad ravings. Thanks to Ori for snarling and growling at me after reading certain parts which, of course, I will not name here. Snarling and growling always means I'm on the right track. Thanks to Sue for all her enthusiasm and demanding another club scene. Coming up just for you in part four, Sue. Big smoochies to Tirinar and Niff for being such sweetie pies and for their continued interest.

Feedback satisfies the little troll who lives under my desk. Keep feeding him, and he'll consider letting me live.
You can reach me at MMCUSN@aol.com

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

Comfort Is A Four-Letter Word
by Aries

Scully walked off the crowded elevator and turned in the direction of the A.D.'s office. As she reached the top of the corridor, her pace slowed, and her heart raced.

//Wonder if this is what it feels like to go to the gallows...//

She entered and knocked twice at the side door. Hearing the command to enter, she took a deep breath and turned the knob. Closing the door softly behind her, she glanced over at the man behind the desk.

Clothing perfectly creased, and not a sparse hair out of place, Walter Skinner was the picture of rugged elegance. A Humvee and handgrenade type of man treading water in a black ocean of bureaucratic bullshit. A man who had been trained to plow through obstacles, not dance around them. Yet, day after day he did the Gene Kelly bit, and made people believe that he belonged in this world. That he was as at home in it as any of them.

His commanding presence could be felt in the halls long before he could be seen. The floors seemed to rumble with his approaching footsteps, and when he came into view, conversations stopped and heads turned. To those few who were courageous enough to utter a 'Good morning sir', as he stalked past, he would simply nod in response. But in the estimation of most, a nod from A.D. Skinner was worth two dozen verbal replies from any of the other assistant directors.

Always respected and sometimes feared, it seemed the only people whom he trusted enough to travel in his sphere of existence were Agents Mulder and Scully. Only they were allowed the occasional glimpse under the hard-as-nails, no nonsense exterior.

Scully was never sure why Skinner chose to let only them in. It was as big a mystery to her as his reasons for putting his ass on the line time and again in the interest of championing his most brilliant, most eccentric agent.

Mulder...

She knew this recent turn of events had put Skinner in a difficult position, and the ultimatum he issued to Mulder yesterday was done grudgingly. But he could not ignore the possibility of some pretty disastrous results from Mulder's involvement with a man he considered to be a very real danger to them all.

Unfortunately, Mulder stubbornly refused to see it, and now he was paying for his obstinacy...in more ways than one.

"What did you wish to see me about, Agent Scully?"

Scully moved into the room, cautiously taking her usual seat.

"Agent Mulder, sir."

"How did I know? Agent Scully, nothing has changed since yesterday..."

"Actually, sir, something *has* changed."

The A.D. leaned back in his chair and waited.

"Sir, Krycek is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir. He left in the middle of the night while Mulder was asleep. Mulder woke up at around two a.m. and thought he might have been in the bathroom or something. But when quite a bit of time went by, he got up and went looking for him. He was gone."

"Mulder told you this?"

"Yes, sir. My car wouldn't start this morning, and I called him for a ride. I couldn't reach him on his home or cell phone, and I started to worry. I took a cab over to his place, and I found him sitting on his couch. He was almost catatonic. After a lot of coaxing, I got him to tell me what happened."

Skinner watched his fingers drum rhythmically on the top of his desk for a long while before he looked up at his lone agent.

"Where is he now?"

"He's still at home."

Her statement received a nod of acknowledgment.

"You know what really kills me?" The agitation rose in her voice. "He almost had me." She shook her head. "My God, I was ready to buy into all that garbage he was shoveling."

Skinner gave her a surprised look. "You were?"

She nodded and closed her eyes, rubbing her right temple. "I went to see him yesterday after our meeting...I had it right."

"You had what right?"

"I basically told him that I knew that all he was trying to do was torch Mulder's career. He denied it to the death, of course. But I'd say his little disappearing act last night confirms it." She opened her eyes and looked at the man across from her. "Sir, would you please consider giving Mulder a little time? I'm sure you can appreciate the uniqueness of the circumstances."

Brown eyes lowered. "Of course. Tell him he's got whatever time he needs."

"Thank you, sir."

"Are you going back to his apartment now?"

"No. He wants to be by himself for a while. I'm going to check on him, though, tonight before I go home."

Scully rose to leave, but before she reached the door, Skinner's voice stopped her.

"Scully?"

"Yes, sir?"

"He's really *that* upset about this?"

Her eyes met his, staring intently.

"His answer to you today, sir, would have been the same as yesterday."

It was a rather roundabout answer, but her point came through loud and clear.

The woman left the room, and Skinner sat alone, processing this new information.

In the course of one day, he had been hit with the news that Fox Mulder, untouchable object of his most private fantasies, was not the man he had thought him to be. Suddenly, he'd become very touchable. Only, it was Alex Krycek, of *all* people, doing all the touching. And now, approximately eighteen hours after *that* little gem of a discovery, Krycek was history, and Mulder was sitting home...alone and brooding, and would at some point be in need of some understanding and comfort...

He closed his eyes and for one brief moment allowed himself the luxury of imagining what it would be like if Mulder would let him be the one to offer that understanding and comfort.

His lip twitched slightly and he drew in an unsteady breath as his mind played out the scenario.

Mulder...walking into his office, despondent, eyes downcast...his mouth...God, that mouth, turned downward in a beautiful, sad pout...explaining to him what had happened...apologizing for his terrible lapse in judgement.

Himself...moving around to the front of his desk and standing before his repentant agent...telling him it was all right and offering soft words of solace as his knuckles traveled down the other man's arm...

The buzz of the intercom roused him out of his reverie. He gave himself a quick mental shake and hit the button.

"Yes, Kimberly?"

"Sir, you didn't forget the meeting with the Director this morning, did you?"

His eyes went down to his watch.

Five minutes to nine.

//Shit.//

"No, Kimberly, I didn't. Thank you."

He bolted from his chair, slipped into his jacket, and rushed out the side door.

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

Mulder lay sprawled across his sofa, phone in hand, staring at the dark leather of the back cushion. Without looking, his thumb located the talk button and pressed it. When he heard the faint sound of the dial tone, he located redial, hit that button, and listened.

"The cell phone customer you are trying to reach is unavailable or has traveled outside the coverage area. Please try your number again later..."

He disconnected and released a soft, stuttering breath. He continued to lie quietly, but inside, he was screaming to find the sense in what Alex had done. Pleading to be given one good reason why he should be lying here alone.

Hearing no answer, he let his eyelids drop and once again felt for the talk button.

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

Scully filed the last of her reports and locked up the office.

//Well, that was one long-ass day.//

She took the elevator upstairs, made a brief appearance at the lab, then exited the building.

As promised, she drove directly to her partner's apartment. When she reached number forty-two, she pulled her key out and unlocked the door.

//No point in knocking, he probably won't answer the door.//

"Mulder?" She called, peering into the dark room.

No answer.

She turned on the nearest light, and her eyes immediately fell on the figure seated at the end of the sofa.

"Mulder...how long have you been sitting there?" She approached and sat down next to him. "Mulder? Come on, say something."

"Say what?" He asked flatly, turning blood-shot eyes up to her. "Say you were right? Say I was an asshole for believing a single word he said to me?"

"No. Mulder, I'm sorry..."

"Really? I thought you'd be jumping for joy."

"You're miserable. How could that make me happy?"

"You were *right*. I know how important that is to you."

She bowed her head. "Mulder, you can't think that me being right means more to me than your feelings. I hate that this has happened to you. But it *has* happened. You said you needed to take the chance. You have. And now you're sure." She reached out and pushed a few stray hairs away from his face. "Let him go. He's not worth a single second of grief."

Mulder looked down at his hands and shook his head. "I need...I need to know..."

"What do you need to know?"

"Why. *How*..."

"To tear you apart, that's why. His heart is a black hole...that's *how*."

Mulder got up and crossed over to the window. "No...no, Scully, no."

"Mulder..."

//Don't. Don't do this with him. Not now.//

"Have you eaten?"

Long silence, then, "No."

"Why don't I fix you something?"

"I don't want anything."

"Have you had anything at all today?"

"No."

"Mulder, you've got to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Mulder..."

"Cut it out, Scully, okay? I'll eat when I get hungry."

"Fine. I won't bug you....I talked to Skinner today."

No response. Not even a glance.

"He said to take all the time you need."

"To what? Clean out my office? Bet you two had a nice little gloating session this morning."

"*No*, Mulder. Why are you doing this? We're your friends. We want to help you through this."

"All I want right now is to be left alone."

"To do what? Sit here in the dark and brood?"

"Maybe."

"Well, I'm not going to let you."

"You don't have a choice. Go home, Scully. Please."

She wanted to argue, but six years with the man had given her enough experience to know when there was no chance of her winning.

"All right, fine. I'll go." She got to her feet and moved in behind him, closing the distance between them to just a few inches. Fighting the urge to wrap her arms around him, she contented herself with a hand on his shoulder. "But I'm *not* going to let you mope around here forever, Mulder. I can't. I'll see you tomorrow."

Long after Scully had left, Mulder stood there at the window, staring down into the street. Over an hour later, the walls had begun to close in on him. Without really thinking about where he was going, he picked up his jacket and keys, and exited the apartment.

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

Nine fifty-two.

//What the hell are you still doing here?//

Even as he asked the question, Skinner knew the answer.

Better to sit here and work until he couldn't see straight, than to go home and snuggle up to a frozen dinner and a bottle of beer, driving himself crazy with thoughts of something that would never be.

He worked until his eyes refused to focus any longer then packed up and headed down to his car. He walked slowly through the parking garage, listening to the lonely echo of his heels on the concrete. An object in his peripheral vision stopped his forward movement, and he turned his head to the right, focusing on the vehicle at the other end of the lot. His eyes narrowed, taking a good, long look, then spun around and headed back into the building.

Quietly, he moved through the halls and stopped at his destination. The door should have been locked at this time of night, but he tried the knob anyway and found that the door was indeed open.

He stepped inside, quickly scanning the room and found what he was looking for. He walked across the room and took a seat opposite the sofa, silently observing the rumpled heap.

"Your couch at home being re-upholstered?"

Mulder replied, not moving an inch from the careless sprawl he'd assumed. "You're here late."

"Lot of work to catch up on...Mulder, what are you doing here?"

"According to Scully, this is still my office."

"Yeah, it is. But it's late. Why aren't you at home?"

Mulder shrugged. "Just had the sudden urge to get the hell out. Wound up here."

"Mulder, I'm...I must admit, I'm at a loss for something to say."

"That's okay. I'm not really in the mood to listen. Where you on your way home?"

"Yeah. I saw your car and came back to see if you were all right."

"Peachy. Thanks. Don't let me keep you."

Skinner folded his hands in his lap, fighting back the wild urge to grab Mulder and shake the shit out of him...then kiss away every last thought of Alex Krycek.

"There's nothing pressing waiting for me at home." He fell silent for a moment, then asked, "Mulder....would you like to talk about it?"

A soft, snorting laugh drifted up from the couch.

"You might feel better."

"No, I don't think I will."

Skinner sat with his head down, looking at his hands. "Well, lying here in the dark isn't going to help either." He looked up at the man who had yet to meet his gaze. "Why don't we go get a drink or something? Get the hell out of here."

"You shooting for a new career in counseling?"

"No, dammit, I could just really use a beer."

Mulder shifted, swinging his legs off the couch and planting his feet on the floor. Finally, he looked at the other man.

"You could *really* use a beer? You know, sir, if you're stressed about something, alcohol isn't the answer."

Skinner gave him that agitated turn of the head.

"Well," Mulder said softly, "you know what? Maybe I could *really* use a beer too."

The older man studied him for a moment, trying to read Mulder's eyes, but they were expressionless. He rose from his seat, opened the door, and waited. Mulder hesitated for a brief moment, then picked up his jacket and preceded the A.D. out the door.

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

Friday night, and the bar that Skinner chose was jumping.

The men located two open seats at the end of the bar and sat themselves down. They ordered a couple of Michelobs, and Mulder turned to the other man, curiosity etching his otherwise listless features.

"So, you want to tell me why you went from my executioner to Dear Abby in the course of twenty-four hours?"

Sharp eyes peered over the wire rims of Skinner's glasses. "I didn't want to have to give you that choice, Agent Mulder, but what else could I do? You had just come to me and informed me that you were in what I perceived to be a very dangerous relationship with a man who spells the word trust, s-c-r-e-w. In the interest of FBI security, I should have booted you; no argument, no explanation. It was out of friendship that I gave you the opportunity to choose."

Mulder looked down into the beer that was just placed in front of him. "I would have chosen him."

"Scully warned me that you would. It would have been a great loss for the Bureau."

Mulder took a sip of his beer then spoke into it. "If he came back tomorrow and offered up a reasonable explanation for why he disappeared without a word, I'd take him back." Glazed eyes looked up into the stunned face of the man beside him. "Just so you know."

Not knowing how to answer that one, Skinner raised his glass to his lips and drained half the contents. Before he finished the rest, he ordered them two more. As he was starting on his third, Mulder moved on to Vodka and orange juice. With two beers and now, the two Vodkas in him, Mulder began to get chatty.

"So, tell me. You don't seem nearly as bent out of shape as I thought you'd be about finding out that I swing both ways."

Skinner shifted uncomfortably on his stool. I...I believe a person's sexual preferences are their own, and no business of anyone else."

The younger man raised his eyebrows and stuck out his lower lip. "Wow." He waved to the bartender and pointed to his empty glass. "I'm...I'm.....surprised."

"Why?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Just thought all you gung-ho, John Wayne, ex-Marine types weren't very tolerant of that sort of thing."

"I have my own mind, Mulder. My own beliefs."

"Well, that's...that's really great." He tossed down his third Vodka. "Because I happen to know of a couple of guys who'd *love* to..."

Skinner's head snapped around and he blinked at his tipsy agent.

"...Well..." Mulder held up his hand. "...nevermind." He tapped on Skinner's glass. "You've been nursing that one long enough, don't you think?"

The older man gave him a soft grunt. "*Somebody's* gotta drive."

Mulder snickered and nodded to the bartender. "Good old Walt. Responsible to his last breath. You know, when the big guy retires or kicks off or whatever, they're gonna make *you* Director."

"You think so, huh?"

"Not a doubt in my mind." He patted the other man's hand. "You da man."

"You think they'd see me as being so responsible if they knew I was just sitting here and letting one of my agents get hammered?"

"Hey, I can get as drunk as I want to in my off time. And you can get drunk with me. Come on, Walt, have another one."

"No, I've had enough. And actually, I think you have, too."

Mulder turned and looked around the bar, then back to Skinner. "Noooo, I don't think so. I can still see." He scratched the back of his head and pouted. "I can still feel."

"Well, I think you'd want to quit while you *could* still do those things."

Mulder shook his head. "Don't want to feel. If I can still feel, I can still hurt." He squinted up at the other man. "You know, if I described him to you...what he's been like with me the last month or so, and I didn't tell you who I was talking about, you'd never guess it was him."

Skinner rested his head on one hand and gazed steadily at him. "No?"

"Nope. He took...." He stopped then began again. "He took such good care of me when I was wounded and sick. And later...he was s-so sweet. That might sound like a girly term to you, but I don't know of a better way to put it. He made me...he...he made me believe absolutely that he want...wanted me." He bowed his head, and a warm hand settled on his shoulder.

"For what it's worth, Mulder, I really am sorry. Not that he's gone, I won't lie to you about that. But I'm sorry that you're hurting because of it."

"I can't stand it. I want it to stop."

The hand slid across to his other shoulder and gently kneaded it. "It *will* stop. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not the next day. But it will. In the meantime, you've got people you can lean on. You know Scully is right there for you whenever you need her. So am I."

The golden-brown head nodded in appreciation.

"Now, what do you say we get you home?"

Skinner summoned the bartender and paid the tab, then, with an arm around Mulder's waist to steady him, he walked the younger man out to his car and lowered him into the passenger's seat. Once he had Mulder securely strapped in, he took his own seat and headed for Helgand Place.

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

The one who watched the two men exit the bar released his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel and started the car. Slowly, he pulled out of the lot and headed in the same direction that they had gone.

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

Skinner poured the virtually unconscious man onto the sofa and picked up the ringing phone.

"Hello? ....Hello?"

"A.D. Skinner?"

"Yes...Scully?"

"Yes, sir. What are you doing at Mulder's? Is something wrong?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Because I've been trying to reach him for hours, and now at almost one o'clock, you answer his phone."

"Yeah. Well, I was working late and as I was leaving, I noticed his car in the garage. I found him in his office, looking pretty bad. We talked for a little while, and I managed to convince him to come out for a drink."

"And he went?"

"Surprised me too. He had a few too many, and I drove him home. We just got in the door."

"Where is he?"

"Passed out on the couch. I don't think I'm even going to try to get him to bed. I'll make him comfortable right here, and then I'll be going. You'll check on him in the morning, I assume?"

"Of course."

"All right."

"...Sir? Mulder does a lot of talking when he gets a few drinks in him..."

"Yes, he does."

"Did he say anything about how he was feeling?"

"Enough for me to know that this isn't going away any time soon."

Silence. Then, "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Scully."

Skinner disconnected, then he turned to look down at the unconscious man.

Uncombed hair, a day's growth of whiskers, and sloshed out of mind, this man was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Skinner bent and pulled Mulder's legs up onto the couch, then removed his shoes, and stuffed a pillow under his head. The sleeping man issued a soft groan of protest, but otherwise, never moved. He retreated into the bedroom and returned with a blanket. He unfolded the quilted cover and tucked it around the limp form, then squatted beside the sofa.

"It'll be okay, Fox," he murmured softly, brushing the hair away from Mulder's face. "I swear, if that fucker ever crosses my path again, I'll kill him."

His fingers lingered for a bit longer, brushing through the silky strands, then reluctantly, he pulled away and rose to his feet. Shutting the light off, he turned and left without looking back.

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

Fifteen minutes, twenty-nine seconds.

//Well, either nothing happened, or you've got some endurance problems that you should be looking into, Walt.//

Alert eyes watched the A.D. get into his car and drive away, then they turned up to the darkened window of apartment forty-two.

//Accept his offer of comfort, Fox, and it'll only be a matter of time.//

He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.

//You wouldn't, would you? Well, why not? I'm sure you're thinking right about now that I'm everything Scully told you I was and more. And I'll be willing to bet that old Walt kicked in a few opinions of his own just in case Scully didn't do a good enough job on you.//

His lips curled into a sneer.

//Gonna play this for all it's worth, aren't ya Walter? You've got your opportunity, and you're not gonna let it pass you by. But he's not so easily had. Believe me, I know. And he *wanted* *me*. No, Walt, you won't make him forget me so easily.//

Some of the arrogance seeped away.

//You couldn't forget me so easily, could you, baby? Even though it'd be the best thing for you. You couldn't, could you? You told me you were mine.//

He slumped back against the seat and wrapped his arms around himself.

"You told me you were mine."

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

"Shit."

Mulder grimaced and covered his face, blocking out the glare of the sun. He blinked slowly, trying to accustom himself to the brightness.

"Oh, God..."

He closed his eyes again, trying to cope with the pounding of his head, but they snapped open again when fragmented memories of last night came back to him.

He remembered being in his office. Then Skinner came in. They talked, went out to some bar...he apparently had *way* too much to drink, they talked somemore, and...

And what?

He couldn't remember anything else.

Except the pain.

It washed over him again, compounding his headache and adding another layer to the ache that had settled over his heart.

He groaned, pulling the blanket up over his head, and tried to block out thoughts of the one who was a permanent part of him.

Alex. His beautiful Alex.

So convincing. So sincere.

How did he get his eyes to look like that when he stared at Fox? How did he get just the right tone in his voice when he spoke to him? How did he put so much feeling into every touch and not mean any of it?

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and retreated farther into the shelter of the blanket.

//I thought maybe you might loved me. I thought we belonged to each other. I can't...I can't...//

"I can't believe you were just using me," he whispered, grimacing at the pain those few uttered words brought to his head. He swallowed down the sudden saltiness that stung the back of his throat, but some of it made its way to the corner of one eye and puddled there, clinging to his lashes.

The knock on the door drew another groan from him. He recognized it as Scully's knock, and he knew that if he didn't get up to answer it, she'd simply let herself in. And that's exactly what he let her do.

"Mulder?" Scully's gaze immediately fell on the heap beneath the blanket on the couch, and she sighed as she closed the door behind her. She crossed into the living room and bent at the waist, observing the motionless form.

The blanket was pulled up over his face, so all she could see was his hair. "Mulder? She whispered softly, hating to wake him, but she needed to make sure he was all right.

There was no movement at first, then slowly, the blanket lowered, and red, swollen eyes blinked up at her.

"My God, Mulder, you look like hell."

He gave no response, other than to turn his head and close his eyes.

"How much did you drink last night?"

The eyes opened half-way. "How did you know?"

"I'd been trying to call you all night. Finally, at around one, Skinner answered your phone."

Soft grunt.

"So...feel better?"

"Feel like shit."

"I figured. Why don't you go take a shower? I'll get you some coffee and something to eat."

"No food," Mulder moaned, pulling the blanket up over his head.

"You need to put something in your stomach, Mulder. Just some toast, okay? Come on, now. Up."

Finally, with a little more coaxing, she got him up and into the bathroom. Once she heard the shower go on, she walked into the kitchen, starting the coffee, and pulled a half loaf of bread out of the cabinet. Upon inspection, she noticed no mold.

"Wow. New bread, Mulder?"

Once the coffee was done, she poured herself a cup and waited. Ten minutes later, Mulder dragged himself into the kitchen and sank down into a chair at the table.

"Feel a little better, now?" Scully asked as she got up to toast the bread.

"I assume you're asking about the hangover."

"Yeah. I know you don't feel any better about Krycek." Scully slid the lever down on the toaster then came up behind her partner and combed her fingers through his damp hair. "I know that's going to take some time."

"I need to see him."

"What? No, Mulder, you don't."

"I do. I need...I need to know. I need him to look at me and tell me why."

"Mulder, if he was man enough to do that, he would have, instead of sneaking out on you in the middle of the night. Besides, why do you need him to tell you? You know why he left."

"I want to hear the words from his mouth."

"Why would you even *think* of wanting the torture yourself that way? He's gone, Mulder. Mission accomplished. Or so he thinks. The only reason you should want to see him now, would be to shoot him."

He ignored the remark. "But maybe there's a reason. Maybe something happened that I don't know about..."

"You think something happened from the time you went to bed to the time he snuck out of here? Come on, Mulder."

The toast popped up, and she turned to retrieve the slices. "What do you want on these?"

"Do I have any grape jelly?"

"I don't know, *do* you?"

"If I do, it's in the fridge."

She opened the door and immediately located the jar that sat alone on the second shelf toward the back. "Uh, Mulder..." She unscrewed the cap and squinted into the jar, grimacing. "You don't want this."

A soft sigh rose from the table. "Butter's fine, then."

She spread a thin layer of butter on each slice, and set them in front of him. "Now, eat that. All of it."

As Mulder choked the toast down, she sat across from him, sipping her coffee. "I can't believe Skinner let you get drunk."

"What was he going to do? He's my boss, not my father, and I was on my own time. Besides, it was *his* idea to go out for a beer."

"*A* beer didn't do this to you, Mulder."

No reply.

"So, what are you going to do today?"

"I don't know. Nothing...got some stuff here I can work on, I guess....maybe."

Scully shrugged. "I was going to go see my mother today. You want to come out with me?"

"No. Thanks."

"Mulder, it'll do you no good to sit around here and brood."

"So instead I'll sit around your mother's and brood? Really...no thanks."

"Mulder..."

"Look. Scully. I understand what you're trying to do. Really. And I appreciate it. But what I really need right now is to be left alone. I need to work through this by myself."

Scully gave her partner a dubious look.

"I promise, I'm not going to go for a stroll on the Beltway at traffic hour, and I'm not going to put a gun in my mouth, or anything else like that. I just want to be left alone. Okay?"

"...Okay. Against my better judgment, okay." She finished her coffee, washed her cup, then came to stand at his side. "I'm going. Promise if you want to talk, you'll call me?"

"You'll be at your mother's."

"I don't care where I am. Just call me."

Mulder nodded absently, staring down into the crumbs in the plate in front of him.

"I'll talk to you later." She planted a lingering kiss in his hair, then left the apartment.

Mulder sat at the table for almost twenty minutes after his partner had gone then picked himself up and trudged back into the living room. There, he sank back onto the sofa and again drew the blanket up over his head.

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

"Scully."

"Agent Scully, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"No, sir. I'm just spending the weekend with my mother. Is something wrong?"

"No. No, I just...I've been trying to reach Agent Mulder for the better part of the day, but I'm not getting any answer. Have you seen him today?"

"Yes, sir. This morning."

"How was he?"

"Hung over. I got him to shower and eat some toast, though."

"All right. I was just a bit concerned when he didn't answer his phone."

"He said he wanted to be left alone today. I have to assume that he just doesn't want to take any calls. I'll try him in the morning. If he still doesn't answer, I'll come home."

"No, Scully. You stay with your mother as long as you want to. *I'll* call him in the morning, and if he doesn't answer, I'll go check on him."

"Thank you, sir, but you don't have to do that. He's my partner, and..."

"It's no problem at all," Skinner interrupted quickly. "Besides, I'm still feeling a little responsible for his condition today. I've got nothing planned this weekend, so it's no problem for me to go over there and see that he's all right."

"All right then." Scully paused, then added, "Thank you, sir."

"Enjoy your time with your mother."

"I will. Goodbye, sir."

Skinner disconnected then dropped down onto the edge of his sofa. He took off his glasses and tossed them onto the coffee table, then massaged the bridge of his nose.

//Go over there now. You won't feel right until you do.//

//No, Scully said he wanted to be alone. Respect his wishes and leave him alone. You can live without seeing him until tomorrow.//

//Yeah, okay, so what are you going to do until then?//

He sat quietly for a few more minutes then pulled his gun out of its drawer, strapped on his holster, and headed out to the firing range.

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

Alex changed position for the hundredth time, knowing it would do no good. Sleep was now a thing of the past. He was back to cat-napping now that he no longer had Fox beside him.

He flipped onto his back and glanced over at the clock.

Two-thirty.

Wonderful.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying to think peaceful thoughts, and of course, the only thing that would occupy his mind was Fox. Naked and sweaty Fox, writhing and arching beneath him as he slid in and out of his slick warmth. Beautiful Fox, whimpering with pleasure as Alex stroked his magnificent cock, and he hurtled toward completion. Exhausted, satisfied Fox, curled in his arms, purring blissfully as they descended into sleep...

Those thoughts made his blood race and his cock swell, and now there no way in *hell* he was getting to sleep.

He threw the blanket off and stalked over to his bag, rummaging through it. Finding what he was looking for, he fell back onto the bed, and lubed up the vibrator. He turned slightly to the side and carefully worked it into his ass, using teasing little thrusts the way Fox sometimes did. When it was all the way in, he turned it on to the low setting and closed his eyes. He moved it slowly, pulling it out almost to the tip, then sliding it back in, imagining it was Fox making love to him so gently.

As he continued to slowly fuck himself, his other hand traveled over his chest, lightly skimming then plucking his hardened nipples. His body twitched and his former lover's name fell from his lips in a soft whisper.

The instrument's gentle vibrations started to do their job, and soon he was squirming and panting, his body begging for release. He increased the pace of his thrusts, and his hand dropped down to his cock, stroking it firmly.

//You're so beautiful, baby...come on, Alex. Come for me...//

Alex listened to the imagined voice of his Fox and sobbed his name.

"God, Fox....I love you...I love you so much, baby..."

//Show me, Alex. Show me how much.//

Alex's mouth dropped open and a harsh cry escaped it as his body went into meltdown. His hand moved wildly over his cock, milking every last bit of fluid from it, and when he was through, he lay there, sticky, and exhausted, and...

He moaned and turned onto his chest, burying his face in the pillows.

...and depressed as hell.

He pulled the vibrator out and flung it across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thump and fell to the floor. He roared his frustration into the pillows, and when his throat began to hurt, he went quiet.

//I can't do this. I can't, I...//

//You have to.//

//Why? If *he's* not worried about his job...//

//Then *you* have to. He needs to be there. You know he does.//

//Since when am I so fucking noble? He wanted *me*. He was ready to give it all up for me. I *had* him and I let him go. Am I out of my fucking mind?//

//*Yes*. But for once in your worthless life, you have to be unselfish. Besides, he'd come to resent you. You know he would. If he was so happy about quitting, he'd have told you straight out about it. He *didn't*.//

//But I can't do this. I can't give him up. I miss him. I have to go back. I can't stand this another day.//

//Don't do it. Leave him alone. Don't fuck up his life.//

//But I love him. What if he loved me? Even a little bit? By leaving him like that, I might have fucked him up even worse than I would have by staying.//

//You're reaching.//

//I don't care. I miss him. Maybe he misses me too.//

He fell asleep arguing with himself, neither side having yet won.

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

Sunday afternoon.

Mulder sat at his computer, staring blankly at the screen.

He'd turned the thing on with every intention of getting some work done, but all that went promptly to hell when he'd noticed that it had started to snow. As he watched the large flakes fall, a desperate kind of despair washed over him.

Thoughts of Alex filled his head and tugged at his aching heart while they inflicted a different sort of torture on the rest of his body. His mind conjured up the rough, smoky sound of his lover's voice wrapping around him, taunting him...whispering things that made his hands shake and his cock throb.

He willed himself to stop, and he turned away from the window. Now he sat here staring at the monitor, not seeing a damn thing but Alex, flushed and smiling, snow kissing his hair and eyelashes, and a heavy vapor falling from his lips as he ordered Fox back into the cabin...

He unconsciously moistened his lips as that image faded and he found Alex and himself naked in front of the fire, kissing and touching; driving each other into a frenzy of need.

His hand slipped down to his crotch, gently massaging the bulge as he heard Alex's gasping moans and could almost feel himself thrusting again and again into his lover's tight heat...

The knock at the door startled him out of his fantasy, and he cursed under his breath, for a moment considering ignoring the intrusion, but the sound came again, this time louder and more persistent.

"Mulder."

His head jerked up at the sound of the muffled baritone.

"Mulder, I saw your car in the garage, I know you're here."

He pushed himself away from the desk and went to the door. Taking a steadying breath, he turned the knob and stepped back as he let the door swing open. He looked down at the floor as a pair of deep-brown eyes, sans the familiar glasses peered at him.

"Are you all right?" A.D. Skinner asked by way of greeting.

"Yeah. Great."

"You don't look so hot," Skinner observed gruffly, noticing the flush of the other man's skin and slightly erratic respiration.

"I'm fine," Mulder whispered, retreating into the apartment, and the other man followed, shutting the door behind him.

"So...you and Scully working as a tag-team?"

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Skinner was silent for a moment, then spoke again. "I've been trying to call you since yesterday. Why aren't you answering your phone?"

"Didn't feel like talking to anyone."

The A.D. heaved a hard sigh. "Do you think you'll be coming back to work tomorrow?"

"I don't know, I...I guess I should."

"I think it'd be the best thing for you. Keep your mind occupied."

Mulder nodded, closing his eyes, then turned to face the window. A noticeable shudder passed  through his body, and Skinner came nearer.

"Mulder, what is it? And don't tell me nothing, because it couldn't be more obvious that there's *something*."

"You don't want to know," the younger man rasped from his station at the window.

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."

"...I was j...I was thinking about him."

"Oh."

Mulder bowed his head, speaking more to himself than the man behind him.

"I want him back," he croaked. "And I want to kill him for doing this to me...I want to know how he *could*. And I want...oh, God, I want *him*..."

Skinner stared at the other man, saying nothing.

"Sorry," Mulder turned and smiled at him through a haze of tears. "Way more than you wanted to know, I'm sure." He again lowered his head.

"It's all right," Skinner offered, firming his chin. "I said I wanted to know." He took a step forward and placed his hand on the younger man's arm. "Mulder..."

Mulder felt the gentle grip of the big hand through his sleeve; felt the comforting warmth, and the tears began to drop silently from his eyes. The next thing he knew, he was resting against the solid mass of the A.D.'s chest, and the other man's arms were wrapped securely around him. And for the first time in twenty some-odd years, he missed having a father.

Skinner's eyes dropped shut, and he luxuriated in the feel of the man in his arms. Lean, hard muscles packed into the long athlete's frame...elegant, strong fingers curled into the front of his shirt...a wealth of silky brown hair brushing his neck as the younger man's head rested on his shoulder...

He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of the man, and he couldn't stop himself when one hand lifted to Mulder's hair and tenderly stroked the thick strands.

Mulder felt the hand in his hair, and suddenly, something wasn't right. The oddest feeling came over him, and he pulled away. "I'm sorry," he whispered, apologizing for more than one reason.

"Don't be sorry," Skinner murmured, battling the urge to pull Mulder back into his arms. "There's no shame in you needing a little consolation. At one time or another, everybody does."

Mulder nodded, looking down at the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. Blaming it on his hypersensitivity due to his very recent state of arousal, he tucked away the impression that the embrace they just shared had an intent greater than that of mere comfort, and turned moist eyes up to the older man.

"Thank you."

"Any time. Have you eaten today?"

Mulder shrugged. "Had some Cheetos earlier."

"Cheetos. That's what you've eaten all day."

"Yeah."

"Come on, let's go somewhere and get some food in you."

"You don't have to babysit me, you know."

"Mulder, I haven't babysat anyone since they stuck me with a platoon full of nineteen-year-olds in Danang."

"Weren't you about the same age?"

The other man gave him a ghost of a smile. "I was twenty. It was my second tour. Now, come on."

Mulder ran a hand through his hair, taking a second to consider the offer. "All right," he said finally. "Just give me a minute to go change."

"Take your time."

When Mulder had disappeared from the room, Skinner dropped heavily onto the sofa, covering his face with his hands and taking a shaky breath.

//How could he do it?// he asked himself. //How could Krycek touch him...how could he look into those amazing eyes...lie beside him, and not feel anything? Jesus, his heart's blacker than I ever would have imagined.//

Twenty minutes later, Mulder emerged from the bedroom, showered and shaven, and wearing a black corduroy shirt over a snug-fitting pair of faded Levis. Outwardly, he looked worlds better, but one glance into his dull eyes told the real story.

They dined at a restaurant not far from Mulder's place, and for the two hours that their meal had lasted, Skinner made light conversation, doing his level best to stay away from anything Krycek-related. When it was over, he drove Mulder home, and before the younger man exited the car, he turned to his new companion.

"Thank you for dinner," he said softly. "And thanks for trying to understand. I know I'm not the easiest person in the whole to deal with in the best of situations..."

Skinner shifted his weight a bit to the right and stretched his arm across the back of the seat. The fringe of hair at the base of Mulder's neck brushed his knuckles, sending a light tingle up his arm.

"No, you're not," he agreed in that gruff but gentle voice. "And God knows I'd like to kick your ass sometimes...okay, a lot of the time..."

The comment brought a tiny smile to Mulder's lips.

"...but it's who you are. And who you are is okay with me."

Mulder lowered his gaze and they sat in silence for a time, then he cleared his throat.

"Well, I'd better going. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

Skinner nodded. "Good. I think you'll feel better once you're back to work."

"Yeah, maybe," Mulder agreed even though he knew work wouldn't help. "Good night, sir."

"We're not at work, Mulder."

Mulder gave him a puzzled look.

"Sir is fine at work, but we aren't there. And unlike you, I really have nothing against people calling me by my first name."

Mulder stared in silence, mild confusion etching his features.

"Walter works fine for me. Walt is okay, too."

Mulder took a short breath in through his open mouth. "Oh. Okay...well, I'll see you tomorrow."

Skinner offered a murmured goodnight, and Mulder vacated the car, moving toward his building without a single look back.

The A.D. sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment after the other man had disappeared into the building.

//Okay, that wasn't too bad, I guess. You've thrown him a little off balance, though. He's never seen this much of your personality. Take it slowly. Offer him all the comfort and patience he needs. He'll begin to get it soon enough. And maybe by then he'll be ready for someone he knows he'll be able to trust.//

He cast one more glance in the direction of the building before he drove away.

"Maybe."

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

Mulder walked into his dark apartment and for a moment considered leaving the lights off. At least that way he wouldn't see as well as feel the emptiness.

Telling himself that he was being stupid, he turned on the small lamp at his desk, and noticed that he had a message on his answering machine. Knowing full well who it was from, he hit the play button and walked away, taking his jacket off.

"Hi, Mulder, it's me. I just got home from my mother's. If you're there, please pick up the phone....okay, I'm going to assume that you're not actually there and just ignoring me. Unless I hear otherwise, I'll plan for you being at work tomorrow. Please give me a call when you get this message."

The recorder beeped, went silent, then beeped again. But no words came. Only a silence that rattled Mulder as badly as if he'd actually heard that soft, husky voice speaking to him.

He slammed the closet door shut and wobbled over to the phone, listening.

To what?

//There's nothing there, stupid.//

//No. It's him.//

//Oh, please. It's *silence*. Does his silence sound different from anybody else's?//

He rewound the tape and listened again.

There. Breathing.

Very faint, but he could hear it.

There *had* been someone there. Listening.

"Alex?" he whispered to the machine. "Why didn't you say anything?" He sat down on the edge of the desk, fingertips skimming over the phone. "Why didn't you talk to me?"

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

"It wasn't him, Mulder."

"I think it was."

"You're grasping at straws. Why would he call you, find out you weren't home, then just sit there, letting your answering machine run, and hang up? Unless it was just to torment you, which, actually, I guess I can see him doing."

Mulder turned away and shook his head. "No."

"Mulder, I know you're still having a hard time believing it, but you really don't have a choice. It's time for you to stop trying to find logical reasons for what he's done and accept that the logic at work here is that of a heartless bastard who never gave a damn about you..."

Scully's speech was interrupted by the ringing phone. She waited for Mulder to answer it, but when her partner made no move toward his desk, she reached over and picked it up.

"Scully....yes, sir. When? All right, we'll be there soon." She hung up and looked to the man who had turned his back to her. "Skinner wants to see us....Mulder?"

"I heard you," he rasped, barely above a whisper. He turned and walked past Scully without another word.

She stood for a moment, eyes closed, composing herself, then spun around and followed him out the door.

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

Skinner looked up from the file he held in his hand. The soft knock at the door startled him even though he expected the arrival of his agents at any time.

"Come in."

The door opened and Mulder entered first, followed by Scully.

"You wanted to see us?"

The soft monotone betrayed no emotion, but the look on Mulder's face said so much. Skinner swallowed down the feelings that bubbled up inside of him and got down to business.

"Yes." He held the file up. "This just came across my desk. Thought it might interest you. A  man recently disappeared from his home in Mansfield Massachusetts, and four days later, a woman showed up on the doorstep claiming to be him."

Scully's eyebrow arched into her hairline. "Sir, I admit that it's a little odd, but how is this an X-file? I mean, this woman just sounds like a nut to me. Or possibly someone who is involved in the disappearance of the man..."

"That's what the family thought. The man's disappearance was broadcast all over local news, and they figured it was easy enough for some wacko to show up at their home. But this woman knows every thing about them. Names, places, dates...the most intimate moments of their lives were known to her. She even bears the same anvil-shaped birthmark under her hair at the back of her head." He looked from his skeptical agent to the silent one. "Mulder?"

Lifeless hazel eyes turned to the man at the desk.

"What do you think?"

"I...I don't know. I guess I'll have more of an opinion after I check it out."

Skinner's eyes flicked up to Scully's then returned to the sullen face. "Can you be there by tomorrow?"

Mulder nodded and took the proffered file.

"That's all."

The two turned to leave, but Skinner's voice stopped them.

"Agent Mulder, may I have a word?"

Scully hesitated, looking from one man to the other, then proceeded to the door. "Mulder, I'll be in the office."

Mulder nodded and returned to the middle of the room. The door closed softly behind Scully, and Skinner motioned to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Mulder sat down, eyes to the floor, and waited quietly.

The older man rose from his chair and moved around to the front of the desk, leaning back against it. "What is it?" he asked softly.

Mulder's jaw clenched and relaxed, but he said nothing.

"Mulder."

The younger man closed his eyes and shook his head. "Nothing."

"Don't hand me that."

"I've already been ripped into by Scully, sir, and I really don't have the desire to go through it again with you."

Skinner studied the downturned face for a moment then pushed himself away from his desk. He pulled the unoccupied chair closer to Mulder's and sat down. "Have I...*ripped* into you at all since that first day?"

"...No."

"Then what makes you think I will now?"

No answer.

"Okay. This isn't the place for it, obviously, but...you're not leaving for Massachusetts until tomorrow..."

"And?"

"How about we get together tonight? My place? I'll spring for the pizza."

"I don't...I don't want to burden you with my problems."

"You're not." Skinner placed a hand on the other man's arm. "You need to be able to talk to someone, and forgive me if I'm wrong or out of line, but it doesn't seem as though Scully is being much help to you."

"She tries," Mulder said in a half-hearted defense of his partner. "I guess I really try her patience, though. It's tough for her to deal with sometimes."

"Well, I'm here to handle all the stuff that she can't."

Mulder blinked up at him, clearly perplexed by his continued tolerance of this situation.

"Come over tonight and we can talk about it, all right?"

The younger man hesitated then nodded. "All...all right." He rose from his chair. "I'll see you later, then."

Skinner rose as well and moved back behind his desk, watching as Mulder exited his office. His eyes closed in unison with his office door, and he sat blindly in his chair.

//Easy, Walt.//

He took a deep breath and released it.

//Come on, down boy.//

While he had been speaking to Mulder, images of himself dropping to his knees in front of the younger man and pulling his zipper down flashed through his mind. And of course, in his fantasy, Mulder didn't push him away, he merely sprawled bonelessly in the chair and let Skinner suck him into mindless oblivion.

//Boy, you sure can dream 'em up, can't you?//

He opened his eyes and looked down at the tremendous bulge in his pants.

//God, but what a beautiful dream.//

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

There was life among the shadows.

The dark figure drifted from a building on the south side of the city, leaving behind five bodies. Inconsequential for the most part, but he prefered to leave no traces. Seconds after he was safely out of the way, the building blew.

Another job done. Another link broken.

It surprised him how easily it was done. How detached he could be about the whole thing. It needed to be done, and he did it.

Simple.

Leaving Fox was also something that needed to be done. Yet, when he did it, it tore his heart to pieces. Still now, days later, he ached. There wasn't a minute of the day or night when his body and his soul didn't scream out for his lover. His misery grew hour by hour and he didn't know what to do to quell it. Twice now, he'd made the decision to go back. To just say 'fuck everything' and go back. But goddamn it to hell, that tiny little sliver of nobility kept asking, 'then what'?

Yeah, then what?

"What if Fox *didn't* tell him to go fuck himself and was as desperate to have him back as he was to be back? That would again leave him out of the Bureau. And he needed to be there. Not only for his own good, but for the good of billions of other people. Alex couldn't be that selfish.

But God, he wanted to be...

The blare of sirens registered dimly in his head as he got into his car and started the engine. A quick glance at his watch, and he was gone.

As easily as a shadow when the lights were switched off.

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

"Sorry I'm late, I had some last minute calls to make."

Skinner nodded and stepped aside, allowing Mulder to enter. "I was actually starting to think that you may have changed your mind."

"I thought about it. Thought about just going home and calling you from there, but going back to my apartment really didn't seem very appealing."

Skinner motioned to the sofa, and the two men sat. "So you want to tell me why you're in worse shape today than I left you in last night?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and looked away. "I check...I checked my messages when I got home. First one was from Scully, and the second was nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Silence. I think it was him."

The older man looked down to the cushion between them. "What makes you say that?"

"Just...a feeling I have." Mulder paused then glanced in the other man's direction. "Are you going to tell me I'm crazy?"

"Mulder, many a case has been solved on the *feelings* you had. I'm not going to knock you."

"Wow. Can you say that to Scully? She thinks I'm grasping at straws."

The other man shifted, brushing a piece of lint of off his denim-clad leg. "Mulder, I...if you say you think it was him, I believe you. But ask yourself why he would do that."

"I have. The answers I come up with are those that I really want to believe."

"You still think that there's a logical explanation for his disappearance?"

The younger man's fingers linked tightly together and he lowered his head. "I keep praying for one."

"When do you think you'll stop?"

"I don't know." Mulder raised glittering eyes to the other man. "When he comes back to me?"

"Mulder..." Skinner moved closer and placed a hand on his back. "You're going to drive yourself insane if you continue to think that. Please, don't do this. If you do, he wins."

"And if I *don't*, who wins? Don't tell me that *I* do. The way I see it, either way, I lose."

"I wish there was something I could say. Some magic words that would make this all okay, but there aren't." Skinner's hand began to move in light circles on the other man's back. "Maybe this trip tomorrow will help you to clear your head. You know...change of scenery and all that."

"I don't think so."

"You never know."

"Yeah," Mulder said without conviction. "I guess."

Skinner forced himself to pull his hand away from Mulder's back, and he picked up the phone, changing the subject.

"What do you like on your pizza?"

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

Eleven-fifteen.

Tired, green eyes watched as Mulder's car pulled into his spot, and the man exited the car and dragged himself to the elevator. When Fox had disappeared from his sight, he retreated to the room that he had procured in the building next door, and sat at the window with a pair of binoculars, watching his former lover move around his apartment.

He knew where Fox had been tonight, and that knowledge drove him up the walls. The more time he spent with Skinner, the more afraid Alex was that...

//That what? That you'll lose him for good? You already *have*. He's not yours anymore. As much as you want him to be, he isn't.//

//God, but I'm his. I can't let him go.//

He directed his words to the figure that had now moved into the bedroom. "How do I let you go, baby? How do I do it?"

A soft groan pushed past his lips as he watched Fox strip naked then lie down on his bed. The older man turned onto his side, facing the window and pulled a pillow to his chest. He whimpered as Fox slowly writhed and rubbed against the pillow under his head.

"Are you missing me, Fox? Do you need to feel my hands on you? God knows I need to feel you."

The man on the bed moved the pillow lower, clasping it to his groin, then rolled over onto his stomach. Slowly, his hips began to move, and he rocked against the puff of cotton, clutching the other pillow to his cheek.

"No," Alex whispered, his hand already traveling down to his jeans. "Oh, God, baby, don't do this to me..."

Fox's mouth fell open on what Alex could only assume was a gasp, and he bucked into the pillow. Alex quickly unzipped his pants and went to work on his engorged cock, attempting to keep up with the other man's pace. "Come on, baby," he choked, his hand moving quickly over the rigid shaft. "Let's go. Come for me..."

He watched as Fox thrashed wildly against the pillow, and Alex felt his orgasm rumble through him. He came quickly and violently, spurting hard over his hand as he fought to keep his footing. He leaned against the window for support, and when his vision cleared, he refocused on the man in his sights. Fox had apparently come at the same time that he did, and was now lying limply, face-down amongst the pillows. Recovering himself, Alex watched him for a moment, entranced by the sheer beauty of the body stretched out on the bed, but then Fox's head turned, and Alex was able to see his face. It was contorted into a pained mask, and his body began to shake. Tears sprang to Alex's eyes as he realized that Fox was crying.

"No," he sobbed, splaying one hand on the window in front of him. "I'm sorry, Fox, I'm so..."

//How can you leave him there like that? If you love him, you'll go to him.//

He zipped his pants and put the binoculars into their case. Before he could move to the door, his other voice stopped him.

//If I love him, I'll let him get over this and get on with his life.//

He looked back to the window. Fox's sobs seemed to have abated, but he still lay there in the same position, looking more miserable than Alex had ever seen him.

"I do love you, Fox." He pitched forward, resting his forehead against the window. "I've never been so fucking confused. What if I do the wrong thing?" Tears sprang to his eyes, coating them with a heavy, blinding mist. "What if I've already done the wrong thing?"

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

Oblivious to the fact that he was being watched, Fox lay spent and heartbroken in his bed.

This was how his life was now to be.

Cookie cutter days, investigating case after outrageous case, only once in a great while coming across anything legitimate or worth his time. Even more seldom, incurring a tiny piece to the vast conspiracy puzzle which only seemed to get bigger by the hour...the fruitless, increasingly hopeless search for Samantha...

Empty nights spent jerking off alone, missing the one who had in Scully's and Skinner's opinions, used and deserted him.

He groaned softly, letting the pain flow through him.

Only a few days ago, he vowed never to doubt Alex again. And now here he was, his resolve being pushed to the limits, and he found himself cracking under the tremendous strain.

If Alex was here...if he had stayed, Fox's faith would have remained steadfast, he had no doubt of that. But what was he to believe when the man he loved and trusted beyond any reasonable person's expectation, left him? Just up and disappeared in the middle of the night without a word of explanation or apology...

It hurt him deeply to think that his friends were right...that every minute he'd spent with Alex was nothing but a lie perpetuated by a manipulative, hard-hearted bastard, but it was the only explanation offered up by anyone, including himself.

His head told him to listen to them...that they were making good sense, but his heart...

He hugged the pillow to his chest, buring his face into the softness.

His heart refused to let him believe. Refused to let him listen to reason. It whispered to him in quiet moments like this, and any time logic seemed to be making a pathway to his brain. It reminded him in vivid detail of every touch, every look...every lovingly uttered word between them, and rationalism went to hell.

"Alex," he whisperd into the darkness, "Alex, please..."

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

"Mulder, that is *not* Mr. Cornell. It's physically impossible." Scully strode beside her partner out of the Mansfield Hospital and out to the street.

"He's so adamant about it, though, Scully," Mulder argued without his usual conviction. "He's even agreed to undergo DNA tests."

"*She*, Mulder, and I don't doubt that she believes she is Mr. Cornell, not after talking to her. But it's obviously some psychosis; drug-induced, or whatever."

"But how do you explain the birthmark? And his knowledge of the location of *Mrs.* Cornell's surgery scar? Not exactly the most visible of spots. And how about the children? He listed for us, in order, every childhood illness they've ever had, and the ages at which they had them."

"She got hold of their medical records."

"And rattled off all that information, just like that."

"Mulder, you're not the only person in the world with an eidetic memory. I...Mulder?" Scully stopped in her tracks and backed up, coming to stand beside her motionless partner. "Mulder, what is it? Why'd you stop?"

Mulder stood frozen for a second, staring into the glass door of a travel agency, then he spun around and headed across the street.

"Mulder!" Scully followed close on his heels. "Mulder, where the hell are you going?" She followed his darting eyes. "What are you looking for?"

Only when he'd exhausted his search, did he finally stop and answer her.

"I think I saw Alex."

"Oh, my God." The irritation in her tone couldn't have been more evident. "Mulder, this thing is bordering on obsession, now. *Stop* it."

"It looked just like him..."

"For crying out loud, Mulder, what would he be doing *here*?"

The question brought her a blank stare.

"Oh," she ranted on, "stupid me. He was following you, of course. He took off on you, and now he's following you around and leaving stealth messages on your answering machine."

Mulder said nothing in response, only turned and crossed back to the other side of the street, and continued on to the car. But Scully was on a roll, and she wasn't giving up so easily. Not this time.

She followed him to their car and fell in beside him as he slammed the driver's side door shut. "You've got to see reason, Mulder," she warned her partner. "I keep hoping this will get better. I keep hoping that every day that passes will bring you closer to sanity, but you only seem to get farther away..."

Mulder sat rigidly, eyes cast downward, listening to her tirade.

"He. Used. You. He lied to you, he fucked you, and he left you. Period. And he's laughing his ass off. I understand how it is that you believed him. Hell, he almost had me suckered with that 'I love him' line. But when he disappeared..."

That 'I love him' line.

Mulder heard nothing after that. His head snapped around and his eyes bored into hers.

"What did you say?"

Scully rattled on, unaware of what she'd done. "I *said*, when he disappeared, I knew..."

"Not that."

"Not what?"

"Not what you just said. The other thing."

"What other thing?"

"What 'I love him' line?"

//Shit. Shit, shit...//

"Mulder..."

The dullness in his eyes was replaced by a mad glitter. "*What* 'I love him' line?"

Scully lifted her chin a fraction. "He told me he loved you," she answered indignantly.

"*When*?"

"At the cabin. Mulder, he said he told me because he knew that I wouldn't tell you. He knew you wouldn't believe anything I said that he said or did...he was just trying to yank my chain."

Mulder shifted in his seat so that he faced his partner more fully. "You said he almost had you suckered."

//You know there's no way in hell he's going to let go of this now.//

"Yeah, Mulder. I thought that there *could* have been the slightest possibility that he wasn't completely full of shit."

"Why would you think that?"

"He's a good liar. He seemed genuinely upset when he found out that you were going to quit the Bureau."

"What?" Shock registered in Mulder's eyes. "He...he knew?"

Indignance turned to self-righteousness. "When you walked off after our meeting with Skinner, I went to your apartment to talk to him. I told him what had happened."

"Why?" Mulder's voice raised in volume. "What right did you have?"

"I wanted him to know the damage he'd done! I wanted him to admit it was what he was after all along, but he wouldn't, that son of a bitch."

"Because it wasn't!" Mulder pounded the heels of his hands on the steering wheel to emphasize each word. Jesus! Ah, *shit*!" He started the engine and swerved out into traffic.

"Mulder, what...where are we going?"

"Home."

"Home? But...but what about this case?"

"I'll call and have the DNA results sent to Washington."

"But, Mulder..."

He slammed on the brakes, sending Scully straining against her seatbelt. "You want to stay?" he asked coldly. "*Stay*. I'm going home."

Scully's eyes fell away from Mulder's and she said nothing more.

He turned his attention back to the road and sped toward the airport.

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

The blanket fell away from Skinner's chest as he sat up, listening.

For a minute there, it almost sounded like...

The buzzer sounded again.

It was.

He looked at the clock and wondered who the hell would be at his door at one-twelve in the morning.

Slipping quickly out of bed, he pulled on the jeans he'd discarded ealier and descended the stairs. "Who is it?" he barked just before reaching the door. The voice on the other side set his blood to racing.

"Sir...Walt, it...it's Mulder."

Quickly, Skinner unlocked the door and threw it open. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Massachusetts."

"I'm handling that. I need...can I come in?"

Skinner stepped aside, realizing that the other man was still standing in the hall. "Of course. I'm sorry...Mulder, what's going on? You look like hell," he commented, noting the wild look in the younger man's eyes.

"I knew there had to be more to it," Mulder began as he swept into the room and began to pace. "I knew he had to have had a reason..."

"Whoa, Mulder, wait. Back up. What are you talking about?"

Mulder continued to stalk the length of the living room. "The day I told you about Alex and me, Scully went to my apartment and confronted him. She told him that I was done at the Bureau."

Skinner shook his head in confusion. "So?"

"I didn't know that he knew. He never let on. He was probably waiting for me to tell him, and I didn't."

"Mulder, I repeat..."

Mulder cut him off. "You don't get it? I didn't *tell* him! He thought I was too upset to talk about it with him. He was afraid that he'd screwed up my life."

"Mulder..." Skinner approached the pacing man cautiously and stood a short distance away. "That's an awful lot to assume, isn't it?"

"No. No, no...I knew there was something. I just didn't know what it was. Now I do." He stopped abruptly, fixing a stormy amber gaze on the other man. "He told her he loved me."

"*What*?"

Mulder nodded and again began to pace. "He told her at the cabin. Oh, God..."

"Mulder." Skinner held out a hand, but it did nothing to stop the other man's movement. "Mulder, if that were true, why wouldn't he tell you?"

"I don't know. Maybe for the same reason I hadn't told *him* yet."

"Told....him...." Skinner's heart sank. "Mulder...you're getting ahead of yourself, here."

"No...I gotta find him. He needs to know..."

A hand shackled his wrist and stopped him in his tracks. "Mulder, stop."

"I can't, I..."

Skinner came to stand before him and grasped his other wrist. "You need to calm down and *think* about this."

"I've done nothing *but* think about it. I have to find him and get this settled."

"Mulder, listen to me." Skinner's grip gentled, and his thumbs moved almost imperceptibly on the other man's skin. "...Why did you come here?"

Mulder stared curiously, then his eyes darted around the room. "I...don't know, I...I needed someone to talk to..."

"Scully?"

The younger man shook his head. "She doesn't understand, she...she kept it from me. Maybe none of this would have happened if she'd told me. Or if she hadn't gone and confronted Alex."

"Maybe," Skinner said softly. "But maybe not. Mulder, I can't lie to you. I don't believe that Krycek gives a shit about you. He's a world-class liar. Not to mention a stone-cold killer, and I find it really difficult to believe that he feels anything for anyone."

"You weren't there."

"No, I wasn't. I admit that his line must have been pretty damn good to so completely suck you in like this..." He loosened his hold on the other man's wrists and slid them up his arms and drew them back down as Mulder stood quietly. "He's screwing with your head."

"No..."

"He is."

The younger man lowered his eyes to the patch of carpet between them.

"Fox, look at me."

The use of his first name drew Mulder's attention up to the deep-brown eyes that seemed to want to burn through him.

"Scully may not have always gone about it as delicately as she could have, but she cares about you and she's afraid. I can well understand where she's coming from."

"So, neither one of you trusts my judgment."

"In this case? I think we both question it. It's not as though you came into this blind. You knew who he was. You knew what he was about, yet you allowed him to just walk in and take what he wanted. Can't you understand why Scully and I feel the way we do? We're afraid of what he's done to you...of what he's still doing to you." He paused and drew the younger man in a bit closer. "I can help you if you'll let me."

Mulder searched sparkling brown eyes. "Help?"

Skinner nodded as his hands slid up the backs of the other man's arms. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Just a couple of days ago he'd told himself to take it slowly. Now, standing here so close to the man, touching him, all he wanted to do was rip his clothes off...with his teeth...

Mulder stepped back. "You talk to me as though I'm a drug addict."

"Addictions come in many forms," Skinner countered gently. "Let me help you back." He took a step forward. Then another, and one more until their bodies were lightly touching. The younger man stood frozen as Skinner brought a shaking hand up to his face and skimmed the line of his jaw. "Let me help..."

Mulder continued to stare silently as the older man moved in.

Skinner's head shifted and he brushed his cheek against Mulder's, shuddering at the faint scratch of stubble that covered both faces. He drew back a fraction, and, keeping light contact with the other man's skin, his mouth moved toward the lips he'd so often fantasized about kissing.

"What are you doing?"

The flatly uttered question stopped him just before he could have his first taste of heaven.

One large hand curved itself around the back of Mulder's neck, and Skinner whispered, so close to his mouth that he could feel the vibration.

"I want to give you what you need."

Mulder opened his mouth, attempting to speak. He swallowed hard, then tried again.

"You...you can't."

"Let me try."

"Walter, I'm s-so sorry. I don't feel that way about you."

"I know. But give me the chance to change your mind."

"I can't do that. I love Alex."

"But Alex doesn't love *you*. In spite of whatever he may have told Scully. You shouldn't waste your devotion on him."

Mulder shook his head. "And you shouldn't waste yours on me. I can't be with you."

"What if you never find him? Or what if you do, and you find out that it's the way Scully and I think? Are you going to spend your life alone, mourning the loss of something you're better off without?"

Mulder stepped back and turned away, coming to stand in front of the balcony door. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You don't have to do that."

Mulder looked up and saw the other man's reflection moving up behind him. "You deserve better than that. You deserve to have someone in your life who'll appreciate you...someone who you'll be more to than just a means to an end."

"And what if I find him, and things are the way *I* think they are? What if he *does* love me, and he just left because he thought staying would hurt me? Then, what? Am I out of a job again? Do you people who care about me then turn your backs on me?"

"I can't speak for Scully." The soft baritone sounded just inches behind his left ear. "But I'll always be here."

Mulder turned to face him, watching his face closely for reaction. "You're telling me that you'll be able to look at me every day, knowing that Alex is in my bed every night?" He saw the flinch and waited for the answer.

"I can't tell you that I wouldn't hate it. I would. But I care enough to respect your choice."

"And keep me employed?"

"You know I didn't want to have to issue that ultimatum. But you put me in a really bad spot. If you got back together with...him..." His jaws clenched as he said it. "...I would have to say we'd be back to square one. You'd have to give me some indisputable proof that Krycek was not a threat to our security, and frankly, I don't think there's any way in hell that you'd ever be able to do that."

"Probably not. Not as much as you hate him."

"You used to hate him too."

"But I was always attracted to him." A soft smile curved the younger man's lips. "I've wanted him for as long as I can remember. Now he's mine. Or at least he was."

"He was never yours, Mulder. He might have made you believe that he was, but..."

"He *did* make me believe it," Mulder countered. "And he wasn't lying to me."

Skinner stared at him, a tinge of sadness touching his features. "I guess I'm wasting my time."

"I've been telling you that." He paused, noting the defeated slump to the other's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

Skinner nodded. "You can't help the way you feel. Emotions just can't be turned on and off. I wish they could."

Mulder understood his meaning. "Alex was right. I told him he was out of his mind."

"About what?" Skinner asked the floor.

"He said you had a...'thing' for me. I don't understand how it is I never knew."

"Your attention was always directed someplace else. It's my experience that we rarely see what's right under our noses."

"I wish I knew what to say to you."

"You've already said it. You're not interested."

Mulder's eyes closed and he bowed his head. "I just wish there was something else I could say. You went out of your way to try to comfort me." He raised his head and opened his eyes. "Whatever your reasons were for it, I'm grateful."

A touch of anger edged Skinner's tone. "I did it because I care about you, not to try and get you between the sheets. I won't deny that if you wanted it, I'd have you upstairs and in my bed in the blink of an eye, but every attempt I made to comfort you was sincere."

"I...I'm sorry." Mulder reached out and laid a hand on the other man's arm. "I didn't mean to...I'm...I should be going now."

Before he could remove his hand, Skinner's closed over it. "Do me a favor."

"...What?"

"If you don't find him, or if...if you do and it doesn't work out...remember that I'm here."

Mulder looked away and, without answering, pulled his hand from under the one that rested lightly on top of it.

Skinner backed into the sofa and dropped down to the cushions, staring at the floor as he listened to the door open and close.

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

Mulder watched the white lines on the road disappear as his car ate up the miles between Skinner's apartment and his. Suddenly he was reminded of that stupid Pac Man game he used to play in college.

He and his roommates would play four hours, or at least until the other guys had to go study. They would heckle him about his ability to comprehend everything on the first read-through, then go off to cram. When they were gone, he'd sit alone, playing game after game until he'd finally beaten it, and no one wanted to play with him anymore.

He thought now of finding one of those foolish games somewhere and playing it with Alex. He'd given a lot of thought to doing things like that with him. Normal, simple things, like going grocery shopping, and doing the laundry...watching old Bugs Bunny cartoons...

But first he had to find him and bring him home.

But where to look? Alex could be nearly invisible when he wanted to be.

He drove on, fingers drumming impatiently, his mind clicking away, and suddenly a thought came to him.

If he couldn't find Alex, maybe Alex would find *him*...

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

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning."

Scully pushed her question aside for a moment to make a different inquiry. "Sir, are you all right?"

"Fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night. What can I do for you, Agent Scully?"

"Have you seen or heard from Mulder?"

"Not since....no...why?"

"He isn't in his office. It doesn't look as though he's been there at all this morning. I tried him at home and I get the machine. I've called his cell phone, and he doesn't answer."

Skinner glanced down at his watch. "It's eleven-thirteen. And you haven't seen or heard from him at all?"

"Not since we got in from Mansfield."

"Well, I'll check around and see if anyone in the building has seen him." He was saying the words, but in his mind he knew that Mulder was more than likely off searching for Krycek, and they wouldn't be able to contact him until he *wanted* to be contacted.

"I'm going to his apartment," Scully said even as she headed to the door. "You'll call me if you turn up anything?"

"Yeah."

When she was gone, Skinner sighed deeply, picked up the phone, and began going through the motions.

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

"Where the hell is he?" Alex raked a hand through his hair as he headed from the Hoover Building and back to Mulder's place.

He'd followed Fox from Skinner's early this morning, and when all the lights in his apartment had gone out, he'd decided to head back to where he was staying to get a little shuteye. Long before Fox usually left for work, he was back.

Seven-thirty came and went. Then eight...eight-fifteen...

When he'd checked the garage, he'd found that the car was gone, and he had naturally assumed that Fox had gone in earlier than usual. He'd immediately headed for the Hoover Building, and upon arrival, found Scully worked up into a lather over her partner's absence. After a bit of checking, he'd discovered that Fox hadn't been to work at all.

And now he was speeding back to his place to see if he couldn't pick up some clues there.

He pulled into the garage at Helgand Place, and grimaced at the continued absence of Fox's car. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, he sprinted up the four flights of stairs and jogged down the hall to number forty-two. Quickly picking the lock, he entered the apartment and looked around.

A few things in the sink that looked like they might have been there for a couple of days...bed not slept in...answering machine...

Answering machine. The light was blinking.

He pressed the play button and turned a deep shade of infuriated crimson as Fox's voice sounded, and then the unmistakable rasp of that smoking bastard.

"Mr. Mulder. Your cell phone is turned off."

"I forgot to recharge the battery. What do you want?"

"You made a call this evening to someone. You were very agitated. Something about some item of your father's..."

"Where's the surveillance device?"

"Let's get together. You tell me what you found in your father's belongings, and I'll tell you where the cameras are. All eight of them."

"Kiss my ass."

"That's an activity better suited for Alex, isn't it? Oh, yes, that's right. He isn't there any more."

"I want to know what this is I found."

"Well, I can't tell you, can I, unless you let me see it."

"You tried to kill me. Do you really think I'd meet with you?"

"Well, how else do you suggest we do this?"

"I see you're not denying it."

"Business is business, Agent Mulder. Though I like you personally, you've become much too much of a problem. Perhaps if you hand whatever this item is over to me, we can re-evaluate the situation."

Silence, then, "And would you leave Alex alone?"

"Good of you to be concerned about a man who up and left you in the middle of the night."

"Answer the fucking question."

"As upset as I am with Mr. Krycek, yes. He will not be bothered."

"Fine. Meet me at the underpass before exit four on the interstate."

"I'll be there. It'll be good to see you again, Mr. Mulder."

"Wish I could say the same."

The conversation ended, and Alex blinked in utter confusion. "Is he nuts?" he asked himself. "*What* item?" He clasped a hand to the back of his neck. "What the hell is going on, here?"

Checking his portable arsenal, he popped the tape out of the machine and dashed out of the apartment.
*******************

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