TITLE: Treffen

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: VRA, MSR, M/SK/SC friendship. SK/SC UST, LGM

RATING: PG-13

SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully reunion fic, frogdoggie style. Skinner POV. Some angst. Character death, but not Mulder, Scully, Skinner or the LGM. Want to read more of my fic? Then surf here: https://www.squidge.org/3wstop

FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? They only serve to warm my body and mind.

ARCHIVE: Sure. Anywhere - as long as my name and e-mail addy stay on it.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING. Towards the end of Season 8? I wish. Everything up until Without at least...and beyond of course.

KEYWORDS: vignette romance angst Scully Mulder Skinner PG-13

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

Author's note: Treffen is German. It translates as "reunion". This vignette was an entry in an "I Want to Believe" list challenge. Thanks, fellow Believers for the inspiration.

Treffen
by frogdoggie

The noise from the C-47 transport plane was as loud as hell. No insulation to mask it, nothing fancy back here, Skinner thought as he braced himself against the bulkhead. Pain stabbed through his left shoulder and he grimaced, gritting his teeth against it.

A well meaning medic appeared in front of him, holding onto the bulkhead with one hand while he spoke loudly into Skinner's face. God...did I ever look that young in Nam, the AD thought as he gazed up into the man's serious eyes.

"Do you want me to give you something for the pain? I've got Demerol...and morphine."

Skinner shook his head.

"No. I want to keep a clear head," he shouted back over the rumble of the plane's engines. "I need to stay sharp in case he wakes up," he added, gesturing with his chin towards the man on the stretcher at his feet.

The medic gave him a doubtful look.

"We can take care of Agent Mulder...even though the bullet went through your shoulder, you might..." he began to reply as he checked Skinner's dressings with efficient fingers.

"I've had worse...believe me," Skinner assured the young soldier drawing his attention. When the man glanced up, Skinner pinned his eyes and fixed him with a look that would brook no argument.

"Ok, sir. Suit yourself. I'm going to go check on your other friend."

Skinner watched the medic work his way back up to the front of the plane and the stretcher that contained Melvin Frohike. The Lone Gunmen, the only one of the three computer hackers that had accompanied him to Tunisia, had a severely broken leg and was under sedation. Skinner shook his head in amazement. Frohike had been thrown 10 feet through the air by the explosion at the end. He'd crawled to safety though. The guy had guts, he thought, leaning his head back against the bulkhead.

The plane jolted him and Skinner's eyes flew open. He must have fallen asleep for a second. The AD quickly looked down at Mulder but the agent was still out cold. Fox Mulder was thin, pale, hooked up to IVs and lying like the dead. He was alive though. His vitals were good too, better than you'd expect actually after what he'd been through. Skinner frowned at the red, puckered holes that ran down each of Mulder's cheeks. What exactly had he been through? Skinner didn't want to think about it.

He glanced around at the airman, soldiers and medics aboard the plane and wondered if anyone would ever know what really happened back there in the desert. Would the world know how this particular war ended? Would anyone know the truth about the destruction of the secret base and all those fields of corn growing where nothing should grow under the hot sun and in the shifting sands? The explosion of the alien craft had to have registered seismically for Christ's sake. The shock waves were probably registering in DC and around the world...both literally and figuratively.

When they got to the base in Germany, Skinner expected there would be questions of course. The potential for him to be grilled for answers like a steak on a hot griddle was certainly there. But he hoped to avoid an interrogation. He hoped to hell that sack of shit Matheson came through in the clinch and whatever cover story that was being cooked up was in place and held.

Skinner had pulled in every favor that was owed him on the hill, including what Matheson owed him and Mulder. It should have been enough to get a story about why they were in Tunisia crafted by the best spin masters around. Well, Matheson had come through with the army back-up in the end. Skinner figured he was good for the rest too.

But, quite frankly he didn't care what kind of song and dance the US government had to do for Tunisia or anyone else. Skinner only cared about one thing...his promise to Scully. And by God...he was keeping that promise...he was bringing Mulder home.

Some air turbulence bumped him against the metal at his back again and he sucked in air as the shoulder wound gave him more grief. Of course his shoulder could have been worse if it hadn't been dressed in the field...he let that thought trail off as his eyes turned automatically toward the back of the plane. He sighed as his gaze took in the area where the body bags were strapped down. If Doggett hadn't dressed it, he thought, taking in the bags where they lay in somber shadows.

There were four bags back there. One for Krycek, one for Marita, one for Strughold...and one for John Doggett.

Skinner shook his head. "I guess he believes now," he whispered before he could stop himself. It was a snide remark that Doggett didn't deserve and he regretted it the minute he made it. He scrubbed his hand over his mouth as if to get rid of the bad taste the comment had left with him.

When he lowered his hand, his head swiveled from the bag that held Doggett to the one that held Krycek. Skinner's face twisted in anger and he hawked up, spitting what came out of the back of his throat onto the floor.

It was all he could manage. He didn't have any words left for the bastard. He'd said them all when he stood over a broken Krycek at the edge of a corn field in flames. "I wish I'd gotten to you first, you fucking Judas," he snarled at him. But the explosion had done the job instead and Alex Krycek lay dead in the sand while Skinner, bloody and covered in dirt, hurled invectives at him. He shook his head and wondered if he'd been wrong in wanting to kill Krycek. If it was wrong to feel sorry that fate had taken the chance away from him. He decided it was more than he wanted to consider at the moment as the plane bucked under him again.

Mulder groaned suddenly and Skinner's attention was instantly focused on his prone figure, all thoughts of Krycek forgotten. He carefully lowered himself from the bulkhead seat onto his khaki clad knees and knelt at Mulder's side. Skinner bent low, putting his mouth close to Mulder's ear.

"Mulder?" he said, his voice loud again to compensate for the engine noise.

The agent moaned and his eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were just hazel slits at first but then they opened wider...and he was staring at Skinner.

"Hey...welcome back to the land of the living," Skinner said, smiling down at a very confused Fox Mulder. Mulder made a weak movement with his throat, coughed, and it was obvious he was trying to speak. After a seconds hesitation, Skinner fumbled Mulder's thin hand into his.

"Don't try to talk...it's all right. You're on your way to Rammstein Air Base in Germany. We got you out," he assured the agent.

Mulder squeezed his hand and looked up at Skinner. His eyes said what his vocal chords couldn't quite manage.

"You're welcome," Skinner replied with a gruff chuckle. He gave Mulder's hand a squeeze as well.

Mulder made a supreme effort then, swallowing hard and coughing up phlegm, but he managed to croak out one word.

"Scully?"

Skinner smiled.

"I'm taking you to Scully...don't worry. She's waiting in Germany," he replied.

Mulder searched Skinner's face for a moment and then his lips twitched a return smile before his eyes fluttered shut again. His breath evened out, and it was clear he was asleep now rather than unconscious.

"Rest," Skinner said to the agent's sleeping form. "You're gonna need your strength in Germany...you've got a hell of a surprise waiting for you when we land."

xXx

The engine was finally silent and Skinner rose from his seat next to Mulder. The agent was still asleep. He'd slept right through the landing at Rammstein. The medics and soldiers were coming forward quickly to prepare Mulder and Frohike for deplaning.

Frohike was coming around a little from the sedation, and Skinner could hear him complaining about not having his glasses on. He walked up to the front of the plane and stared down into the grizzled Lone Gunmen's face.

"I've never seen Germany," Frohike told Skinner groggily. He frowned and blinked like an owl, trying to focus on Skinner's face.

"You're not going to see much of it now...but I'll take you for a beer later...give you the grand tour," Skinner assured him, patting him on the shoulder.

"Holy shit. I may be stoned, but I'm gonna remember that promise, G-man. Beer...grand tour. Got it," he mumbled before he passed out again.

Skinner chuckled and shook his head in amusement. "To bad it's spring and not October. I've got a feeling this guy would love Oktoberfest," he remarked to the medic who arrived and was securing the straps on Frohike's stretcher.

"Sounds like it," the medic replied with a nod. Skinner gave Frohike one last pat and strode back to where Mulder was being attended to by the young medic from earlier. Additional airman and soldiers were crowding around to help off-load the agent.

"You radioed ahead, right?" Skinner asked one of the airman.

"Yes sir, just as you requested. Agent Scully and Mr. Frohike's friends should be here," the airman replied. Skinner nodded and then his attention was drawn to the back of the plane. The huge hatch on the C-47 was opening, and he did his own blinking then against the afternoon sun that streamed in.

He touched Mulder's hand briefly and then broke away, heedless of the wound in his shoulder. Skinner hurried toward the ramp that lead out of the plane. He could see her...she was running. Scully was running towards the plane.

"Jesus," Skinner hissed under his breath. He picked up his pace, holding the sling on his left arm against his chest to keep his shoulder stable as he loped down the ramp as fast as he could. "I'll be damned if she's going to have the kid here," he added. He finally jogged to meet the pregnant Scully as she dashed across the tarmac. Running at her side were Byers and Langly, and Byers was clearly giving her a piece of his mind for sprinting in her condition. They all nearly collided and Skinner caught Scully, managing to enfold her with one arm.

For one brief moment Skinner held her...he pulled her close and felt her heart beating against him...so close, so warm and so full of life...full with another man's child. He wrapped his arm around her, and savored what that feeling was like because he'd never felt it before and knew he was never likely to feel it again...no matter how much he always desired it or would desire it in the future.

"Hey...hold on...he's coming," Skinner mumbled. He glanced back at the plane. The soldiers and medics were bringing Mulder's stretcher off and Byers and Langly ran ahead.

Scully pushed away from him then, just slightly, and he unwound his arm from around her. He locked away how he felt about holding her before she could see it written on his face. Scully placed her hand over his heart and looked up at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

"Thank you," she said.

Skinner nodded, his throat clogging with emotion. Tears brimmed up in his eyes and overflowed, trickling down his cheeks.

"Go on," he finally managed to croak out, gesturing with his head back toward Mulder's stretcher. He stepped aside and Scully hastened past him, her sneakers making an audible slapping sound on the pavement.

Skinner turned, lifting his glassed up off his nose. He secured them temporarily in his sling while he wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his blue work shirt. Placing the grimy specs back on, he took in the scene in front of him through the blur of tears and desert dust...but he could see well enough.

He could see Byers and Langly take a quick look at Mulder and then run on past the agent in their eagerness to be with Frohike as the soldiers carried his stretcher forward.

He could see Scully speaking rapidly and motioning for the men carrying Mulder's stretcher to lower it to the ground. The medic was giving her a bit of an argument but she was taking no bullshit. The stretcher was lowered and it was evident Mulder was awake at last, blinking and disorientated in the bright sun.

Scully sank awkwardly to her knees and Mulder's head swiveled toward her. His right hand rose up and flopped over weakly to grasp her hand. She drew his hand to her stomach.

Skinner could hear Mulder's hoarse voice coming to him over the spring breeze.

"Scully...oh holy shit!"

Mulder's weak, delighted laughter mixed with Scully's laughter and sobs reached his ears too.

Skinner grinned despite his own tears, turned...and walked away.

-THE END-