Vampire Series 3: Parts VIII-X 

Rating: NC17 - language, adult themes

Category: MSSR/ Pure Trash / Discipline

Warning: Mulder/Skinner/Scully Romance

If you don't like this kind of thing, or you are underage, go
somewhere else . . . NOW! I don't want to hear from you and I
don't want to hear from your Mama.

Spoiler: Some small mention. Nothing too specific.

Summary: Mulder gets on the wrong side of a very powerful lady.
Vince the Vampire did not get to be in this one . . . and is he
ticked!

Disclaimer: I do not, nor ever will, own Mulder, Scully, Skinner,
Krycek or anyone else from the X-Files. I am borrowing them
without permission and am obviously not receiving money for this
stuff. We all know who they really belong to, CC, Fox and lots of
other people but again, not me.





Vampire Series Part VIII Son of a Witch by DiAnn



Home of Claudia Fuller Greenwich, CT

Mulder felt the cold damp stones of the garden wall meet his
back. He had retreated as far as he could go and the old woman
was still advancing on him.

"You've been a very naughty boy, Fox, breaking into an old lady's
home like this. I'm sure your mother will be quite upset when you
are arrested. After all, what will people say? That's always been
very important to your mother, hasn't it Fox? It was always about
what the neighbors would think, that was more important than even
the safety of her children."

"Stop it! Don't you talk about my mother that way. People deserve
to know the truth. And the truth is that you are not the nice
little old lady that you pretend to be but are in reality, an
evil witch. And, I. . . I want you to stay away from my mother."

The crone reached out and ran a bony finger down his cheek. Her
hand felt as dry as parchment and he couldn't stop the shudder of
revulsion that ran through his body. "I think what you need is a
good old fashioned spanking, Little Fox. You are far too nosy for
your own good. Teena seems to have been very remiss in your
discipline. But you'll find that unlike your mother, I'm not
swayed by big eyes and pouty lips. Or maybe . . . she just didn't
care enough about you to bother."

The woman moved her sandpaper finger once more and placed it in
the middle of his forehead. He was pinned to the wall, eyes wide,
unable to move.

"Say the words they've come to fear, And one and all who may be
near, Will feel an urge they can't deny, To cause the pretty fox
to cry . .. "

Mulder's world began to spin - faster and faster, the red and
orange of the autumn leaves blending and swirling with the deep
blue of the outdoor pool, flashing by his eyes with impossible
speed. His last thought, before he fell unconscious, was that she
really should have already drained that pool. Winter could come
early on the East Coast.

Walter Skinner's Apartment Late Evening - Same Day

"Skinner."

"Mr. Skinner, this is Officer Roy Addison of the Greenwich,
Connecticut Police Department."

"Yes, how may I help you?"

"I have your son here. He said I should call you to come bail him
out."

"My son? I don't . . . " Skinner rubbed a hand over his face. He
suddenly felt that old familiar pain shoot through his stomach.
Mulder! It had to be Mulder.

The AD took a deep breath, "Mar . . . Marty?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

*Shit!*

Greenwich Police Department Parking Lot

"Thanks, Walter."

"For what?"

"For not making a big scene in there. I don't think I could have
handled that tonight. I know you have to be furious with me. And
I . .. I just wanted to thank you."

Skinner gritted his teeth as he started the car and headed out to
the highway. "Don't thank me yet."

"That police chief didn't like me. He really wanted to see you
yell at me."

"He wanted to see me tan your hide."

"He did not! I doubt he would even think of such a thing."

"How long were you there?"

"Since late afternoon."

"Yeah, he wanted to see you thrashed all right. It usually only
takes about an hour for people to start thinking that what you
really need is a strap laid across your backside."

Mulder stuck his lip out, "That's not true but if you think so,
then thanks for not giving him what you thought he wanted."

"I didn't want to make any memorable impressions. They might
figure out who you really are. You're just lucky that woman
didn't press charges. Your Mother lives in this town, Mulder.
That's playing
little close of home, if you ask me."

The AD knew he needed to cool his temper and he needed to find
out what Mulder was up to . . . before he decided exactly how he
was going to kill him.

"Is there somewhere around here, Mulder, like a park of
something? A private place where we can talk?"

"We could go find a motel room."

"No. I need some fresh air. Some place outside."

"Oka-a-a-y, there's a lookout point about eight or ten miles from
here. Probably won't be any kids making out tonight. It's a
school night and cold as hell to boot."

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into an empty parking lot.
Skinner sat for several minutes just staring out of the car
window at the dark night sky. Since he had become involved with
Mulder and Scully he often found himself in some very strange
situations. But at least he wasn't lonely and miserable now. And
he certainly wasn't bored. If he could just convince Mulder to
curb these reckless little side trips of his, the Assistant
Director thought his life might be close to perfect.

"Sir?" Mulder had started fidgeting five minutes ago.

"What's up there?" Skinner pointed to the top of a rather steep
rise.

"Picnic table. Great view . . . at least in the summer."

"Let's go," As Walter reached for the door handle, he felt
Mulder's hand on his arm.

"It's kind of cold tonight, Walter. I left my coat in my car back
in town." He indicated the light weight black turtleneck and
jeans that he was wearing. "Why don't we talk in here?"

"You should have considered the consequences before you went
running around improperly dressed for the season."

"It wasn't cold when I left it there," Mulder pouted.

"And coats can be so cumbersome when you are breaking and
entering, huh Mulder?"

Walter climbed out of the car and reached into the back for his
own heavy wool overcoat. He then walked purposefully around the
car and opened Mulder's door.

"Come on."

The hill turned out to be the backside of a sheer drop off. There
was indeed a picnic table there and a magnificent view of a small
inlet of water surrounded by trees, their autumn colors drained
of vibrance in the cold moonlight. A few lights could be seen
scattered around the area.

The Assistant Director sat down on the picnic table with his feet
on the seat. He watched Mulder shivering in the night air. "Take
your clothes off."

"Wh . . . what? You have got to be kidding." Mulder was already
so cold his teeth had begun to chatter, "It's co . . . colder
than shit out here."

Walter Skinner reached out and dragged his irritating young agent
toward him. "I said strip. Either you do it now or I do it for
you. But I would think that you might want to have something to
wear on the way back home."

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Mulder jerked away and stomped his foot at
his boss. "I can't believe this. I thought you cared about me.
Scully would never let you do this, Walter."

"You're right, she probably wouldn't like it one bit but . . .
she isn't here and I am." He reached for Mulder's shirt. The
agent did a quick step backwards and started undressing himself.
Skinner could certainly use some brushing up on his negotiation
skills. The man never gave an inch.

"Do I need to remind you that this is a public place, Sir?"
Mulder asked as he looked around. "Someone could show up here at
any minute. Hell, there could be someone here already watching
this disgusting little show."

"That would be unfortunate for you, Agent Mulder. Very
embarrassing, I would think."

Mulder's teeth were chattering even harder now. Skinner scooted
back on the table. He pulled Mulder between his legs and turned
him around, plastering the agent's goose bumped back against his
own broad warm chest and pulled his coat snugly around both of
them. Mulder was practically sitting on his lap. Skinner found
this little arrangement to be quite pleasant.

"Better?"

"Wh . . . what are yo . . . you doing, Walter." Mulder tried
desperately to control his chattering teeth and the shivers that
racked his body.

"Breathing. Calming down. Holding someone who is special to me.
Someone who continues to get himself into illegal and/or
dangerous situations. Tell me why you were harassing an old
woman, Mulder."

"I was not harassing. I was doing surveillance. And she is not an
old woman. She is a witch."

Skinner laid his forehead against the back of Mulder's dark hair.
It was one o'clock in the morning, the AD was miles from a warm
bed, he had a seven-thirty meeting at the office and he was just
not as young as he used to be. In fact, since taking on the X-
Files, he felt he had aged at an alarming rate.

Skinner sighed, "Please, Agent Mulder, start at the beginning."

"But . . . but it's cold. And . . . and I'm naked."

"Very astute, Spooky. Now tell me why you were caught in that
elderly woman's house."

"She . . . she is part of my Mother's Thursday Canasta Group. My
mother kept telling me how exciting her life had become since
this Claudia person had joined their circle. It seems this . . .
this witch has started my mother and her friends doing spells . .
. black magic."

"Your mother has set aside every Thursday afternoon to practice
witchcraft, Mulder? That seems a little . . . " Skinner
reconsidered, they were talking about Fox' Mother after all, so
he supposed this was possible. "What kind of spells?"

"You know, just simple stuff at first but now . . . " Mulder
shivered again, this time from something other than the cold.
"They turned old Mrs. Morgan into a cat and my Mom is keeping her
in the den."

"What! Are you expecting me to believe . . . what kind of cat?"

Mulder looked over his shoulder with an expression that clearly
indicated that he had expected Walter to be just a little sharper
here, "A black cat, of course."

"You've seen this cat?" Walter closed his eyes and pulled a
nodding Mulder protectively against his body. He said a silent
little prayer and reluctantly asked his next question, "Have you
. . . please tell me you have not spoken with this cat, Mulder."

"Walter, please don't be ridiculous. Cats can't talk."

Skinner sighed with relief. Thank God, maybe he would not have to
have Mulder committed tonight. He could wait until morning.

"She wrote me a note."

Now it was Walter's turn to shiver. "This cat can write?"

"She was a school teacher for more than forty years, Walter, of
course she can write." Mulder was using that tone of voice that
he usually reserved for dullards in the VCS who could not grasp
the most basic concepts of demonic possession or global plague
delivery systems.

Skinner scooted back once more and pulled Mulder up further so
the agent's feet were now on the seat instead of the frosty
ground. It was obvious that this little discussion was going to
take some time.

"Okay, Mulder. Go on. What did the uh, . . . victim tell you?"

"Nothing that I didn't already suspect. This Claudia woman was
slowly leading the other woman into witchcraft instead of cards.
She helped them make a killing on the stock market, made a love
potion for them, taught them how to . . . "

"Love potion?"

"Yeah, for Seniors Night at the Country Club. Worked like a
charm, except for the medical emergencies. Two heart attacks, a
stroke and a broken jaw. Those old guys were really . . . uh-h-h
. . . sensitive to that potion."

"Broken jaw? Mulder you didn't . . . "

"Of course not. It's just that the potion worked on the married
men as well as the single. There were two black eyes, too, but
they didn't require treatment from the paramedics. Those old
ladies can really punch when they get angry. I bet those poor
husbands are still hearing about that night. I was there but I
stayed out of it. Well, except for Mrs. Roberts, she was going
after Mom so I had to pop her."

Mulder tried to look over his shoulder to see if his boss was
still with him on this but the man had his face buried against
Mulder's hair again. The agent decided to just go on with the
story, hoping that Skinner had not fallen asleep back there.

"Mrs. Morgan got suspicious and wham! . . . she was a cat. So I
put Claudia Fuller under surveillance. I took her broom and had
Danny analyze it but it came up clean. Then I waited for the
regular Thursday coven so I could investigate her house."

"So you stole this woman's cleaning supplies and then broke into
her home?"

"Well, 'break in' is a harsh term, Walter, I didn't actually
break anything."

"How did you get in?"

"Lock pick."

"Oh, well that's better." Skinner rolled his eyes as Mulder
nodded. "Go on, Mulder."

"Well she came home early. I tried to get out the back door but
she cornered me by the pool. I was able to push her in the
water," Mulder looked over his shoulder, "You know it's true that
witches do not float. She burst out of that water about ten feet
in the air. Hell of a splash. Damnest thing I ever saw. That's
when she put the curse on me."

Skinner groaned. He wasn't sure he really wanted to hear this. A
cursed Mulder, that was too frightening to even consider. "What
kind of 'curse'?"

"I can't really remember much. Something about me saying things
that make people angry and then them hurting me."

"Are you sure this was a curse or just an observation?"

"Please Walter, a curse is serious business. So anyway,
everything went black and the next thing I know, I'm in jail."

"Mulder you have got to stop getting into situations like this.
If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, it is
really difficult to get the cooperation of the local police on a
case, once they recognize you as a past inmate. You have got to .
. . "

Mulder looked over his shoulder, "It's getting late, Walter,
don't you think we should be heading home?"

Skinner froze in mid rant, snarled once and easily flipped the
surprised agent over his knee.

"Walter, stop! What are you doing?"

"I...I have to punish you. I have to . . . to hurt . . . you."

"Cut it out, Walter. What is wrong with you?"

Walter stared down at the shivering man over his lap, and brought
his hand down hard on the cold exposed skin. Mulder yelped and
tried to wiggle away from the AD. The hand descended again, much
harder this time. Producing another yelp and more struggling.

Walter seemed to be watching himself from a great distance, as he
continued his assault on the squirming man across his lap. Mulder
deserved to be punished. He deserved to be punished like never
before. He would teach this young man a thing or two. He would
make sure this. . . this . . . whatever it was, didn't happen
again.

The beating went on and on as the flesh under his relentless hand
reddened to a fiery hue. Finally, fuzzily Walter began to
register the sound of Mulder sobbing.

What had happened? He had not intended to punish Mulder tonight,
at least not out here in the cold. Actually he had only planned
to scare him a little. The naked stuff was mostly for Walter's
own enjoyment. But now Mulder was blistered and sobbing across
this knees. And he just vaguely remembered doing it. He knew it
had, there was no one else around and his own hand was still
stinging. But he could not remember much about the actual
punishment he had just administered. And what he did recall was
fading fast.

Walter pulled his agent up and into his arms. "I don't . . .
don't know what came over me. Why did I do this Mulder? Wh . . .
what happened?"

Mulder could only shake his head and sob into his boss' shoulder.
The freezing air now felt wonderful against his burning skin.

FBI Headquarters Interrogation Room 401 The Next Morning

Mulder sat across from the accused serial killer. They had been
at this for a while and both agent and suspect were beginning to
tire. Gregory Todd Bender was accused of killing nine homosexual
men. He had kidnaped and tortured them before finally slitting
their throats.

The handsome young man sitting across from Special Agent Mulder
did not look capable of such acts. He was slender and blond with
one of those baby faces that defied age. Greg Bender would, under
normal circumstances, look twenty-five when he was forty. Life in
prison might change that.

Mulder looked into his sky blue eyes. "Come on, Greg. I know you
killed those men. It will go easier on you if you confess now."

Bender shook his head as he stared across the table at the
sympathetic federal agent, "Have you . . . " he swallowed hard,
"Do you ever have gay guys hit on you? I thought you might
because you're so good-looking and all."

"I can see where that might be a problem for you, Greg"

"Yeah, it is. It happens to me all the time. I ... I hate it. It
happens to you, too, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it happens sometimes. I know how angry it can make a man."

"Yes."

"Angry enough to want to kill."

"Yes. No! I don't know what you're talking about, Agent Mulder.
Really. I have nothing against gay men. You have the wrong guy. I
just don't like them talking to me, that's all. You understand
that don't you? You have to understand that. How they look at you
. . . it just makes me so angry. You have to know how that feels.
You have to."

Mulder kept his voice calm and inviting. He reached his hand out
toward the other man in a gesture of friendship, "I want to help
you, Greg. I want to make this as easy for you as possible. You
need to trust me. You have to tell me the truth. You may think
everyone here is against you but we just want to help you."
Mulder looked deeply into the suspect's eyes, "Did you kill those
men, Greg?"

Greg Bender's head snapped up and his eyes glazed over. "You .. .
you're just like all the others. You deserve to be punished just
like they did." He grabbed the hand Mulder had extended to him
and pulled. As the agent lost his balance and fell forward across
the table, Bender grabbed a hand-full of dark hair. He slammed
Mulder's head face down against the heavy wooden table top. The
agent groaned as Bender lifted him back up. Mulder was dazed from
the force of the blow but managed to grab Bender's hand, trying
desperately to dislodge it from his hair.

The guard by the door was watching the action with glazed eyes of
his own. He finally decided it was his duty to act. Mr. Bender
could not properly punish the agent while shackled to that table.
He got the keys out of his pocket and moved toward the two men.

Bender slammed Mulder's head down once more. This time when he
lifted Mulder's head back up the agent could barely struggle and
was moaning loudly.

Assistant Director Skinner walked into the viewing room for the
Bender interrogation. He always liked watching Mulder work. The
man had a real knack for drawing out the suspect. They trusted
him with their secrets. Maybe they suspected he had some secrets
of his own.

Skinner was a little shocked to see that the two agents watching
the proceedings were laughing. Mulder was usually effective but
rarely funny while conducting a session.

He glanced through the window in time to see Gregory Bender slam
Mulder's bruised and bleeding head down onto the table, then pull
the unresponsive agent up by his hair, preparing to repeat the
act. At the same time, the guard was struggling to release the
suspect from the table. What the hell! Skinner drew his gun as he
barreled into the next room.

"Freeze." The guard and the suspect looked up with wide confused
eyes at the man with the gun trained on them. As Bender released
his hold on Mulder, the injured agent slid bonelessly off the
table to land in a lifeless heap on the floor.

Skinner motioned his gun at the guard. "Peterson, back away from
that man. Agent Ryan, Agent Smith, get in here."

The two witnessing agents staggered into the room, holding their
heads.

"What the hell is going on here?" Skinner growled in his best
Marine voice. The air in the room fairly crackled with his rage.
Several other agents had now arrived, allowing Skinner to move to
his downed agent.

"Mulder, can you hear me?" The agent was out cold, blood running
down his bruised forehead, covering half his face. "Call an
ambulance. And find Agent Scully."

"Peterson, Ryan, Smith, report to my office immediately. Jackson,
continue this man's interrogation. I want to know what just
happened in here."

Assistant Director Skinner's Office 20 Minutes Later

The three Federal Agents stood at attention in front of the
Assistant Director's desk.

"What the hell happened in there?"

The three men looked at each other. Then Agent Thomas Ryan
cleared his throat. "Agent Mulder was interrogating the suspect.
It really looked like the guy was starting to trust him, maybe
going to open up to him. Then the guy just . . . just . . . I
really don't remember, Sir."

"And why, may I ask, didn't you go in to assist when a fellow
agent was attacked by a suspect in a serial murder case?" Skinner
could not remember being this angry. Or this totally baffled by
the actions of his men.

"I . . . I remember thinking that Spooky deserved to be hurt,
Sir, but it seemed like it was coming from a long way off. It was
like I was watching it happen but I wasn't really there." The
other men were shaking their heads in agreement, looking
bewildered and frightened. "I . . . I well . . . I don't know why
I would feel that way, Sir. I like Mulder."

Office of The Lone Gunmen Later That Day

Mulder sagged against the wall and knocked on the door of the
Gunmen's latest lair. He raised one hand and gently inspected the
bandage that still decorated his forehead. Man that hurt.

"Come on, you guys, let me in."

Langley opened the door, "Whoa Dude! You look bad."

"Just a little bump on the head." He shoved his way past Langley
only to be confronted by Frohike.

"So why aren't you still in the hospital," the little man asked
suspiciously. "We heard the 911 call. 'Officer down' doesn't
usually mean you show up here a couple of hours later."

"I left the hospital."

"You what!"

"I left. I have this curse on me and I have to figure out what to
do about it. I can't do that from a hospital bed. If I had stayed
around there much longer Skinner or Scully would have shown up
and I would have been stuck."

Frohike snickered, "Oh-h-h, Bad Boy. Scully is going to kill you,
you know."

"Yeah, right after Skinner gets done with you." Langley offered
helpfully.

Mulder chose to ignore them. "So about this witch. This curse
seems to be triggered by a specific word or maybe a combination
of words. If I am careful about what I say, I should be okay."

"Well, Claudia Fuller is clean. In fact she is so clean that she
didn't exist before April of this year. We're still looking."

"Come on you guys," Mulder whined, "I need to know, can't you
think of any way to hurry this up?"

Mulder started backing for the door as two sets of glazed eyes
snapped up at him. He tried to turn and run but the recent blows
to his head had slowed him down considerably, Langley and Frohike
jumped him before he made it to the door. The last thing he
remembered was Langley yelling something about the FBI being
responsible for the diabolical release of the new Brady Bunch
movies on an innocent and unsuspecting public.

Mulder awoke to an electronic beep. Hospital? He was in a
hospital? Scully! If this were a hospital, Scully would be here
and maybe Skinner, too. He opened his eyes hopefully and
encountered . .. *Oh Shit!*

The Gunmen had him tied face down to one of their less than
sanitary beds and worse than that, he was naked. Double Shit! How
was he supposed to break a witch's curse when people keep pulling
this crap. He looked over his shoulder to see Frohike advancing
on him with a folded leather belt.

"You Little Punk Ass, you've deserved this for years. Scully
would be mine if you weren't always in the way. Why do women
always go for tall, dark and nuts when they could have a real
man?"

"Oh Yeah, and who would that be? Ouch!"

After several more very painful lashes, Mulder had to admit that
Frohike was really rather skilled with that strap. He chose an
area from the top of Mulder's hips to half way down his thighs
and painted it a deep, painful scarlet. Mulder gasped with each
stroke and tried valiantly not to scream. For the most part he
was successful. Frohike finally stopped when Mulder was sobbing
quietly into the pillow under his head.

"Oh Wow, that's gotta' hurt." Langley sounded awed by Frohike's
efforts. "Can I spend a little time with him now?"

"You rape him and Skinner will have your ass."

"I wasn't gonna' rape him, just help him forget about how much
his butt hurts."

"Yeah right, Langley. No way do I want Skinner or Scully in my
face. Those two are dangerous with a capital Dee. So hands off
the Mulder Toy."

"Well it's just not fair," Langley pouted, "he didn't even tell
us he liked guys until Skinner had already staked a claim. And,
besides that, I saw Mulder first."

"As far as I can tell, Foxy Boy doesn't like guys. Only Skinner,
for some ungodly reason that I, for one, will never begin to
comprehend. So back off before that big macho Boss Daddy of his
rips your head off. Not that it would be any great loss."

"Hey, you Little Wise Ass, I know . . . "

Byers walked into the room, "I got that special connector that we
need to . . . " Byers gasped as he surveyed the scene in front of
him, "Wh. . . what have you two done! Have you completely lost
your minds?"

John Byers hurried over to Mulder and began to untie his hands.
He turned to his two associates, who were now shaking their heads
as if they had been sleeping deeply for a long time. Both Langley
and Frohike looked at Mulder with horror as he carefully rose
from the bed and then unsteadily to his feet.

"It's not their fault, Byers. It's that damned witch. I have to
break this spell or I am going to end up back in the hospital.
That is if I'm not dead first."

Byers handed him his clothes, "Tell us exactly what that woman
said to you Mulder. Maybe we can help."

After Mulder had explained the whole thing, the three gunmen were
shaking their heads. Langley looked at him sadly, "So you don't
have any idea what the key phase is?"

"Well I thought I did. When I was attacked before I had used the
word. . . think," he looked closely at his three friends but got
no reaction at all. He sighed, "That is really the only word in
common that I have found, at least for the first two times." He
glared at Langley and Frohike, " This last time is a complete
mystery."

Langley eyed him, "You mean Skinner attacked you?"

"Well yeah. He . . . he . . . well, never mind what he did but it
was like he was in some trance or something. He was really sorry
later."

"Just how sorry was he, Mulder?" He blushed as Langley leered at
him speculatively.

FBI Headquarters Next Morning X-Files Office

"Don't even talk to me, Scully. I do not want to start my day by
having my ass kicked by my partner."

"So you still haven't figured out the uh-h-h . . . witch's curse
yet, Mulder?"

"No I have not. I know it has something to do with me saying
something that makes someone else angry. It's really hard to pin
down just what it is though."

"Yes, I can see that it might be hard to determine just how it is
that you invariably anger everyone you come in contact with. I
know I've tried to figure it out for years. You know, Mulder,
there probably isn't really a curse. It is in all probability all
in your own mind. She touched your head and said some spooky
words and now you think you have a curse on you. Simple power of
suggestion."

"So, Oh Partner of Mine, It's your opinion that she out-spooked
Spooky. I don't think so! Listen, I've got to get to that Quintin
Case Team Meeting up in Skinner's office. We'll discuss why this
hypothesis of yours is so-o-o-o very invalid when I get back."
Mulder grabbed his coat and headed for the door. As he turned the
knob, he looked over his shoulder at Scully. "Think you can hold
down the fort, Red?"

His smile faded as Scully glazed eyes snapped up and zeroed in on
him. For once in his life, Special Agent Fox Mulder vied for self
preservation . . . he ran . . . hard and fast. And he didn't stop
until he reached Assistant Director Skinner's outer office.
Scully would not dare hunt him down and hurt him here.

"Hi Kim. Do you think the meeting is ready to start?"

He ducked into Skinner's office just as the desk phone hit the
door right at eye level. That Kim was a damn good shot. He patted
the back of the closed door that had just saved him from another
painful head injury and turned to meet the stunned faces of his
fellow agents.

Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose under his glasses, "Glad
you could join us, Agent Mulder."

AD Skinner's Office Quintin Murder Case Team Meeting

"Agent Mulder, have you been medically released for duty today?"

"Yes, Sir." Skinner eyed him skeptically but decided to ignore it
for now.

He looked around the table at the six agents assigned to this
case. All good men. The killer had just claimed his eighth
victim, the daughter of a prominent television minister and a
personal friend of the President. When that had happened, the
Assistant Director had no choice but to involve Mulder. Skinner
sighed deeply, his beautiful, brilliant and recently 'cursed'
Mulder. Jeez! We're all doomed.

The discussion had been going hot and heavy for almost three
hours. Tempers were beginning to wear thin. Skinner was extremely
proud of Mulder. He was the picture of the calm, controlled
federal agent. Never losing his temper, never raising his voice.
Carefully thinking through every word that came out of his mouth.

The original profiler on the case, Special Agent Jerry Connors,
was positive that the man was picking his victims for their blue
eyes and long blond hair. Mulder was just as convinced that all
the victims shared an interest in Ouija Boards and were being
horrifically murdered by a demon they were calling forth.

"Christ Spooky, give us a break. Demons?" Agent Connors fluttered
his fingers through the air, "Oh-h-h-h, I want to believe."

"Connors, think about it, what else could bite the victim's head
off like that?" The room suddenly went deathly quiet and Mulder
felt two heavy hands land on his shoulders. Skinner was behind
him. He looked around the table. Everyone was staring at him with
glazed unblinking eyes. *Oh Shit!* What had he said?

Skinner was pulling on his arm, forcing him to rise from his
chair. "Lean forward Agent Mulder with your hands on the table.
Agent Collins, tell us once more why you believe the man is
obsessed with the victim's hair."

Mulder felt his boss' arm snake around his waist reaching for his
belt buckle. The horrified agent attempted to grab the offending
hand before it could finish it's task.

"No! You can't do this." Mulder struggled to free himself from
Skinner's iron man grasp.

"Does anyone here object if I discipline Agent Mulder while we
conduct this meeting? Save a little time." Skinner slammed his
unwilling agent down flat against the table and jerked one of his
arms up to the middle of his back. Mulder groaned in pain.

"No one ever deserved it more, Sir." Agent Connors seemed
absolutely gleeful. Mulder was in a panic. He felt his slacks
pool at his feet, followed closely by his boxers.

"Look at the ass on that boy."

"Yeah, I always thought Spooky would have a nice ass." Observed
Agent Michaels.

"One of the finest in the bureau," Skinner concurred proudly.

Mulder buried his head in his free arm. This was surreal. Please
let this be a really bad nightmare and let me wake up now. It was
bad enough that Skinner was obviously going to strap him in front
of these other agents but since when did big macho feds discuss
other guys' asses. At least there weren't any female agents in
the room. Be thankful for small favors.

That witch had gone too far this time. He was going to get this
curse off if it killed him and her.

The belt landed with a blinding flash of pain across his
buttocks. This was the third punishment he had received in just a
little more than 36 hours and his butt was definitely feeling the
effects of past abuse. At this rate he wouldn't be able to sit
down before next Christmas. The second stroke landed and Mulder
bit his bottom lip hard. He would not let them see how much this
was hurting him, not only physically but emotionally as well. His
face burned hotly with the humiliation of it all.

After about a dozen burning lashes, he felt his pants being
raised over his sore blistered backside. He stood up trying to
wipe away tears on his coat sleeve before anyone saw them. When
he had rearranged his clothing as best he could, he felt
Skinner's hands on his shoulders again and he was shoved back
down in his chair. Several of the team seemed pleased when he
groaned with pain.

Connors smirked at the chastised agent, "Well Spooky, do you
still belie . . . "

"Shut up! All of you just shut up and stay away from me!" Mulder,
fresh tears running down his flaming cheeks, pushed his chair
back so suddenly it crashed to the floor. The agents around the
table jerked at the loud noise and began rubbing their eyes and
shaking their heads. "I'm going to contact Father O'Brien to get
rid of the demon, whether you agree with my conclusions or not. I
just don't care." Mulder stomped from the room, the door slamming
violently in his wake.

The agents were all staring at Skinner, "Where is Spooky going?
What just happened in here? Sir, did you just . . . "

"Uh-h-h, don't worry about it Agent Michaels. I'll take care of
it. Since Agent Mulder is going to further investigate his demon
theory, why don't the rest of you work from Agent Connor's hair
and eyes profile."

"You don't really think Spooky might be on to something with that
demon thing, do you Assistant Director Skinner, Sir?"

"I would remind all of you that Agent Mulder has the highest
solve rate in the bureau and he is seldom proven to be wrong in
his profiles. I would also strongly suggest that all of you
refrain from using the name 'Spooky' when referring to Special
Agent Mulder. He has earned respect from all of us. You are
dismissed."

Skinner sat down at his desk and put his head in his hands. He
had just punished Mulder in front of an entire team. The memory
was fading fast but Walter was sure that he had done just that.
It was inconceivable. Maybe there was something to this curse
thing of Mulder's.

X-Files Basement Office 10 Minutes Later

Mulder stormed into his office. He had to give Father O'Brien a
call. He would arrange for the priest to perform an exorcism on
the demon. He felt certain that would end the murders. He and the
father had worked together on several occasions, always
successfully. Of course, there would be no murder trial. No
closure for the families of the victims. Mulder shook his head,
but at least no one else would die. And then he was going to work
full time on his little curse problem.

He was surprised when he looked up to see someone sitting behind
his desk. Cancerman.

"Mr. Mulder, I've been waiting for you. I have some information
about your sister."

"Get out of here. I'm not interested in anything you have to
say."

"Fox, did you know that you have your mother's eyes. They used to
flash just like that when she got angry. You get your temper from
her, I bet that surprises you."

It took everything in Mulder to stop himself from attacking the
man in front of him. It was probably what the bastard wanted.
Hitting another agent . . . or whatever the hell this man was . .
. would get him suspended from the FBI, if not immediately
dismissed.

"I repeat, get out of my office. And don't talk about my mother
or my sister."

"Tsk tsk Mulder, and I thought you wanted to find your sister. I
thought you felt responsible for reuniting your family. Wanted to
help your mother find some happiness again."

"Why is my mother's happiness any of your business?"

Cancerman was across the room instantly and had delivered a solid
right cross to Mulder's jaw that put the younger man flat on his
back. The old guy could still hit. Taken totally by surprise at
the sudden attack, Mulder did not react quickly enough to avoid a
vicious kick to his ribs. Then he was kicked again. Then again.
Mulder was finding it hard to breathe, and he could hear
Cancerman grunting into his efforts. The man meant business this
time.

"You always were a pesky Little Shit. I don't know how many times
I found you with your nose where it didn't belong. I used to turn
you over my knee but you don't remember that do you? Well, I'll
leave that delightful chore to Mr. Skinner now." He delivered
another kick to Mulder's mid section that brought tears to the
agent's eyes. It was quickly followed by a blow that caught the
battered man on the side of his head. Mulder was thrown violently
back against the floor, unconscious.

Cancerman stopped and looked down at the fallen agent. Why had he
done that? He didn't intend to resort to physical violence here
in the office, especially not with Fox. He really didn't mean to
hurt the troublesome boy. Teena would be furious if she found
out.

He felt frightened by his own actions. He was always in total
control, why had he lost it so badly his time? He looked down at
the young man and then stooped to take his pulse. Still strong.
He picked up his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Assistant Director Skinner's Office. Kimberly speaking."

"Tell Mr. Skinner he needs to check on Agent Mulder in the X-
Files Office immediately." He hung up the phone still shaking his
head at his own loss of restraint. But the memory was fading
quickly. He left the office wondering just what had happened
there.

"Mulder?" The AD leaned anxiously over his agent.

Mulder could hear a voice from very far away. Scully? No,
Skinner. He opened his eyes to be met by the concerned gaze of
his boss.

"What happened, Mulder? Who did this to you?"

Mulder just stared at him. If he told Walter that Cancerman had
beaten him, Skinner might try to do something about it. That
could be very dangerous and would probably not result in any kind
of justice anyway. Besides, it was the curse that had really
caused this to happen. Cancerman had not been there to attack
him, just to taunt him. Then he had said something to set him
off. What was it? What was the key to this curse? He had better
find out and it had better be fast.

"I don't remember. I walked in and someone was waiting for me. I
didn't see their face. I'm fine, Sir. I want to get up now."

"No, you will not get up now. Just lie still, an ambulance is on
the way."

*Shit!*

Mulder's Apartment Later that Evening

Mulder sat with his head in his hands. He had once again spent
all afternoon in the Hospital Emergency Room. Maybe they should
just move his office down there. Save time for everyone. He had
to beg Scully to get him released. He couldn't blame her for
thinking he needed protection. He had to figure out what was
going on with this curse.

It had only been one day and his whole body hurt. If this
continued much longer, someone would go too far and he could end
up in critical condition in some hospital room. Or worse, he
would say the 'curse phrase' around Scully and she would just go
ahead and kill him. She had probably subconsciously wanted to do
that for years. He was certain he had correctly figured out that
much of the curse. If he said a particular word or phase, the
people around him did what they had always wanted to do to him.
Gave him 'what he deserved', so to speak. His friends beat him
and his enemies tried to kill him. Comforting thought.

Mulder heard a knock. He pulled his gun and moved cautiously to
open the door just a crack so he could peer out into the hall.
Skinner. *Oh Shit!*

"Sir. I think it would be better if you didn't come in here right
now."

"Fox, I just want to make sure you're all right. Scully said you
wouldn't stay at her apartment tonight. Let me in, just for a
little while."

Mulder sighed, "All right, come on in Walter. But no hitting."

"I'm not here to hit you, Mulder. How could you think such a
thing?"

"Sorry, it's this curse."

"Can I do anything to help, Mulder?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. I just can't figure out what it is
that I do or say that makes people want to hurt me."

"Well, you're enormously sarcastic, for one. And arrogant. And
irritating. And hot headed. When you start throwing one of your
temper tantrums, anyone within thirty feet would just love to put
you over their knee. And you never listen to reason or look out
for your own safety. You're reckless and incredibly stubborn and
have no respect at all for authority. Then there is the way you
look, that pouty bottom lip just screams 'brat'. It's something
about your face Mulder, like a mischievous little boy who is just
begging for a good spanking."

"Gee thanks, Walter. You've made me feel a whole lot better."

"Really? Well, I'm glad I could help. Now why don't you come home
with me. I don't like the idea of you being here all alone."

Mulder came over and kissed Skinner's cheek as he all but pushed
him out the door. "No, I need to do some thinking. I'll be fine
here tonight. Don't worry. I'll see you in the morning. And tell
Scully not to call here every fifteen minutes either."

He finally got his boss out the door, without getting any kind of
punishment, he noted proudly. It seemed he had no sooner resumed
his position on his couch than someone once again knocked on his
door. Mulder sighed, this apartment hasn't seen this much action
in at least a year.

He threw the door open, "Look I just need a little time to . ..
Oh, Mrs. Scully. Please, come in. It's nice to see you."

"Hello Fox Dear. Is Dana here by any chance? Bill Jr. came in
town unexpectedly and I wanted both of you to join us for
dinner."

"No, she isn't here, Mrs. Scully. I think she went out with that
attorney friend of hers, Barbara something or other."

"Oh Fox, did you and Dana have a fight?"

"No, of course not, Mrs. Scully. She did call me stubborn because
I wouldn't let her spend all night nursing this little bump on my
head. But we didn't really argue."

"Well that's good, Dear. Dana loves you very much you know."

Mulder's face lit up, "Do you really think so?"

Maggie Scully grabbed his arm, her eyes glazed, "I have to punish
. .. I have to. . . ."

"No, Mrs. Scully! Please! Don't hit me!" She saw Mulder's
beautiful hazel eyes start to fill with tears.

Maggie released his arm and raised her hand to pat his cheek
lovingly, "Oh Fox, I'm not going to hit you. I would never have
made it through Dana's three month disappearance without your
support. I'm so very fond of you, Dear. But . . . I do feel this
. . . this urge to punish someone. I know! It's that Bill Jr. He
has been completely out of control since his father died.
Ordering the whole family around like some newly crowned king or
something. I am going to go straight home and give that young man
a good dose of my hairbrush. Get him back on the right track in a
hurry."

Mulder could only gape at her in shock.

"Fox Dear, you're much too handsome to stand there with your
mouth hanging open like that." She gently pushed his chin up
until his lips met. "If you hear from Dana, tell her I'm looking
for her. I'll be at home attending to her brother."

As the door closed behind Scully's Mom, Mulder raised both hands
in the air and stomped his feet. "Yes! This is great! Bill Jr.
gets my beating. Life is good! This curse thing has an up side
after all."

Finished with his small victory dance, Mulder collapsed on his
couch. Back to the curse problem. He obviously needed help. Who
could break a curse? Another stronger witch for one. But he
didn't know any witches, strong or otherwise.

Could his mother help him? She had never been of much assistance
in the past. She was better at needing aid than at giving it. And
he doubted she had really developed into a very good witch. She
had never gotten the knack of fixing her own lunch, so he very
much doubted she would 'wow' anyone with her magic potions. And
he was certain that she thought brooms came with maids attached.
No, once again, he could not turn to his mother.

Okay, so that left? No! He was not going to call that damned
vampire. No way! Okay, maybe, as an absolute last resort but . .
.

His thoughts were interrupted as his door was kicked in. Mulder
stood and grabbed for his gun but it was too late. The intruder
stood in front of him, his gun leveled at Mulder's head.

"Hello, Mulder."

"Krycek, you could at least knock first. Maybe see if I would
consider letting you in before you destroy my door. What the hell
are you doing here anyway?"

Before Mulder had time to finish his sentence, Krycek had him
pinned to the floor, a strong arm across his throat, instantly
and completely shutting off the agent's supply of air.

Mulder gasped for breath and struggled for all he was worth. He
felt the darkness closing in as one fat glistening tear rolled
down his cheek.

Krycek immediately let up on his throat. "Mulder, what the hell!
Are you okay? I don't know why I did that. I only came here to
give you some more information. I. . .I don't . . . "

Mulder sat gasping for breath. "It was . . . the . . . curse."

Krycek rubbed his ex-partner's back in small soothing circles. He
hoped Mulder would stay out of it for a while longer. He liked
touching him in this way. "Curse, Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged off Krycek's hands. Alex sighed and moved to sit
on the couch.

"Nothing you could help me with, Krycek. You wouldn't believe me
anyway. Nobody does."

"Don't be so sure, Mulder. I'm from Russia. In my country we
aren't so quick to disbelieve in curses. Besides I told you once
that I had followed your work and that I respected your ideas. I
didn't lie about that. Tell me who put this curse on you. You are
important to the coming confrontation. We can't lose you just
because you pissed off some two bit magician or something."

Mulder glared at him, "It wasn't a magician," he stuck his lip
out a good half inch, "It was a witch."

"A witch, huh? You always had a way with the ladies, Mulder."

Mulder grunted at him as he looked around for his lost gun. Then
he noticed his guest was holding it up for him to see, "I'll just
keep this for a while. You can be a little antisocial at times.
And if you even think about going for that ankle holster I
guarantee you a trip to the hospital. You know you hate
hospitals, so just try to be a good boy for once. And stop that
pouting. While I do find it immensely attractive, I think we have
more important things to attend to at the moment. So, tell me
what you did to piss off this witch. I may be able to help you.
By the way, you did say witch with a W, right? We aren't talking
about Scully here, are we?"

"Cut it out, Krycek! I've obviously run out of options dealing
with this on my own and I do not want to call Vince. Which I'm
sure you can understand from your dealings with him. So you'll
probably be as much help as anyone else." Mulder got to his feet,
"Do you want some coffee?"

When Mulder came to, he was lying on his couch with Double Agent
and Kidnapper of Red Headed Partners, Alex Krycek holding his
hand. "Wh .. . what happened?"

"I'm not sure. You were going to make coffee and then I just had
to .. . had to . . . and then you yelled and not that I don't
think you deserve . . . but I felt like . . . like I was . . . "

"It's a question!"

"What?"

"It's a question. I thought it was a word but it's a question ..
. any question."

"Mulder, I know it's tough for you, but could you please try to
make some sense here."

"When I ask a question, anyone who is around me wants to
instantly beat me up."

"Yeah, so?"

"That's the curse."

"Well, that's not very original. Your questions have always had
that effect on people."

"Yeah, but now they have to act on their impulse to hurt me. They
can't help it. My friends do it in a more uh-h-h-h . . . personal
manner but everyone feels an irresistible urge to cause me pain."

"Then just don't ask any questions."

The two men just looked at each other, then Krycek smiled.
"Mulder you are in deep shit."

Claudia Fuller's House Greenwich, CT

"This isn't going to work."

"Sure it is, Mulder. Have a little faith in good old Russian
folklore. My Grandmother told me all about this. She said it
cleaned out a whole village of witches."

"I don't remember reading about that in the Washington Post or
even the Globe, for that matter."

"It was in 1784, I think. Or maybe it was 85."

"Great."

"Come on, Mulder. Just knock on the door. You get her to deny her
true self three times and I'll hit her with the pepper spray."

"I'm sure pepper spray was easy to obtain in 1784 Russia."

"Well, they used these sacred hallowed peppercorns that had been
sanctified in some full moon ritual or some such shit. This spray
should work okay. I stopped and splashed some Holy Water on the
can on my way here."

"My understanding of what you just said is that you actually had
the nerve to take that can of pepper spray, a weapon of sorts,
into
church and stick it in the Holy Water basin thingy."

"Yeah, but Scully didn't see me."

"Scully! Scully was . . . "

"Mulder, do not finish that question. Just calm down. I got in
and out, no one saw me. Well, except for that alter boy but he
wasn't very tough and luckily I had the silencer on my gun."

"Wh . . . what! You . . . you . . . "

"Kidding, Mulder. Just relax and knock on the door. It's time to
rock n' roll!"

Mulder put his head in his hands, groaning. "We're going to die.
She is going to kill us, that is if she doesn't die laughing
first." Mulder knocked on the door.

Claudia Fuller smiled brightly, "My beautiful little Fox, how
exceedingly marvelous that you came to visit me. And you have
brought an equally lovely friend, how considerate of you. I have
completely forgiven your little transgression, by the way. Please
come in and sit down. You handsome boys are so kind to spend your
time with a lonely old lady."

As soon as they were inside, Mulder turned to the matronly woman,
"I need you to take your spell off of me, Mrs. Fuller."

"What are you talking about, Fox? What a dreadful thing to say.
Please don't make me call your Mother. She wouldn't like it if
she knew you were bothering me again."

"She wouldn't like you putting a curse on me either. You, Mrs.
Fuller, are a witch."

"How could you accuse me of such a thing, Fox? I didn't put a
curse on you and I am certainly not a witch. You are an evil
young man to even suggest something like that."

Mulder glanced at Krycek who nodded slightly. *That's One!*

"So you are telling me Mrs. Fuller, that you don't know how to
execute a curse. That you lack the knowledge it would take to
pull off something of this magnitude. You are clearly saying that
you don't know how to bind a spell," Mulder leaned in close,
getting in her personal space, pushing her, "You are admitting
that you are .. . at best, an incompetent witch."

"Your mother is right, you are a pain in the butt. Always asking
questions, always sticking your nose in other people's business.
If .. . if I were a witch, I would be unsurpassed in my field but
.. . I'm . . . I'm not a witch, Fox. Now please leave my home."

*That's Two!*

"I know you are a witch, Mrs. Fuller." Mulder stared at the
ceiling with a far away look in his hazel eyes, "I know there are
more things under heaven and on earth than is known or understood
by most men. I have seen aliens, green and gray and oil based and
disguised as repulsive cockroaches. I once saw a sea monster.
Well I didn't actually see him but I saw a picture of his tooth.
Of course Scully didn't think it was really a tooth but it killed
a bunch of frogs and ate her yippy little dog. And I once spent a
week in a New Jersey sewer and saw a man who was fathered by a
worm and who lived in poop and liked it. I know that werewolves
are plagued by fleas and that vampires are afraid of blood. I've
seen a tattooed circus geek who ate cranberries willingly. So you
see, I know what you are Mrs. Fuller, I know what you do. You are
a witch."

He looked back from his musings to see that both Krycek and
Claudia Fuller were looking at him in stunned silence.

Mulder stuck his bottom lip out and glared at Krycek, "Well she
is!"

"I am not!"

*That's Three!*

Krycek jumped forward and sprayed Claudia Fuller with his holy
pepper spray.

She gasped in shock and then she began to scream, her body
shaking violently. Her inhuman screeching so loud Mulder and
Krycek had to cover their ears. Her palpitations so fierce that
the entire house was effected, vibrating on it's foundation. A
fierce wind whipped around the room blinding the two men with the
debris that swirled and swooped through the air. The witch seemed
to be spinning now, faster and faster. A solitary stick figure
dancing frantically in the eye of a tornado.

And then Claudia Fuller just exploded in an impressive burst of
blood and gore. The wind stopped abruptly and the room was
instantly as silent as a tomb. Neither Mulder nor Krycek spoke
for several long moments.

Mulder finally wiped at his face, "Yuck! I thought she would just
dissolve into a nice little puddle or something. How are we going
to explain this?" He looked around at the blood soaked room.

"I don't . . . Hey you asked a question and I'm not hitting you!
The curse it gone. It worked!"

"Yeah, it did! But I repeat, how are we going to explain this?'

"You can just tell Skinner that you came to apologize to Mrs.
Fuller and during your visit she was hit with Super Distructo
Gamma Laser Beams directed from a secret Reticulin Battle Station
located near the Omega Fulla Crapa Sector. He'll buy that."

"Do you really think so, Alex?" Mulder gave him a couple of wide
eyed blinks while Krycek tried to determine once again how he
would ever manage to keep the naive and totally clueless Mulder
alive long enough for him to save the world. Very scary thought.

FBI Headquarters Assistant Director Skinner's Office Next Morning

"Okay, Mulder let me get this straight. You went to see Mrs.
Fuller accompanied by a known felon, Alex Krycek. Who escaped
before you could arrest him."

"Yes, Sir."

"And you went there for the purpose of using some eighteenth
century Russian Folklore to expose this woman as a witch?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And during this undercover operation, you told her about some of
your X-Files cases. The mutants and the aliens and the vampires
driving recreational vehicles?"

"I wanted her to deny her powers."

"And you thought that telling her about a man who lived in a
sewer and ate shit all day would do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long were you in her home, Agent Mulder?"

"About two hours, Sir."

"And did you do most of the talking?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And after listening to you for two hours, she just sort of . ..
blew herself up."

"Yes sir."

"The woman had a lot of stamina didn't she, Agent Mulder?'

"She was a tough one, Sir."

"She was also a serial killer. We finally were able to get some
information on her. She had been traveling across country killing
for at least ten years. She is responsible for some twenty-three
deaths, maybe more. The official cause of her death by . . . uh,
self-detonation is now listed as suicide in the face of capture."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief. There for a while he had been
worried he would have to try that story that Krycek had come up
with. He wasn't sure Skinner would buy the part about the Gamma
Laser Beams. Skinner wasn't stupid. Everyone knew that those
beans would melt a human not cause them to explode. He had tried
to point that out to Krycek but the Russian had told Mulder to
just shut up before he made him lose all hope for the survival of
the human race. Whatever that meant.

"Good work, Agent Mulder. I'll put a commendation on your file."

"Thank you, Sir? Now could we talk about the 302 request I
submitted this morning? Vince says . . . "

"Vince the delusional, probably insane, self appointed, vampire?
I thought I told you not to associate with that man anymore.
Mulder, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times, if
you hang around with weird people, you will . . . "

The End of eight

Vampire Series IX Southern Comfort by DiAnn



The Open Vein Bar & Grill Tuesday, 9:00 p.m.

Walter Skinner looked around the dimly lit bar. He had been here
once before with Mulder. It was a fetish bar, catering to those
who wanted to be or thought that they were, vampires. A
delusional and spooky group of nut cases. It was just the kind of
whack-o place that Mulder loved.

The AD waited alone, at a small table pushed back against the far
wall. No one had come near him yet. If Mulder were here, these
people would be crawling all over him. Fox could never get them
to stop touching him but with Skinner, they kept their distance.
It wasn't that Walter wanted their attention but the obvious
avoidance just made him that much more uncomfortable here in this
Mulder-Place.

These people all acted so timid and frightened of him. Weren't
vampires supposed to be fierce and deadly creatures? Somebody
needed to give these people some lessons on how to pull off
vampire.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice, "You wanted to see
me, Mr. Skinner?"

A tall, handsome man stood in front of him. He looked to be in
his late twenties with blond hair that just brushed his collar
and wide blue eyes. He was so pale he looked to be almost
translucent in the eerie lighting that barely reached this far
corner of the large open room.

Skinner cleared his throat, "Yes. Vince . . . isn't it?"

When the vampire nodded, Walter continued, "Care to join me? I
could use a scotch about now but no one seems to be waiting this
table."

"They're afraid of you, Mr. Skinner. They think Fox is
extraordinarily courageous for being your and Agent Scully's
lover. They're afraid of her, too."

Skinner nodded his head, "Well I can understand that part at
least. You do not want to piss off Scully. She even kicks
Mulder's ass on occasion. Of course, she won't let anyone else
get away with it."

Vince smiled at that thought and gestured into the shadows to a
girl with long red hair. She came over with two glasses and a
bottle. When she got close, Skinner noticed that she had a neon
green streak in her hair and hypnotic golden eyes. The Assistant
Director realized that he was mesmerized by those eyes and tore
his gaze away and back to his companion. Vince was smiling at him
knowingly. "Yes, Agent Scully's possessiveness of her partner is
well known and accepted here. We always make sure we return him
to her in the same condition we found him. Safer that way."

"You got that right." Skinner glanced around again, "If they want
to pretend to be vampires, shouldn't they be more frightening or
.. . something?"

"You don't believe we're real, Mr. Skinner?"

"I know that you believe you are a vampire. I know that Mulder
believes it, too. I also know that you've helped him with some of
his cases in the past." Skinner looked down into his glass and
then back up at the vampire, "I came here to ask if you would
help me."

"In what way, Mr. Skinner?"

"It's . . . it's Mulder, he's missing. I need to . . . to see if
. . . if you can find him. I need . . . I mean . . . I want him
back."

Vince reached out a hand to comfort the obviously distraught man.
"Of course I'll help you find Mulder. But I have to tell you, we
are very close. 

I usually sense when he's in danger and I feel nothing like that
at the moment. Of course, he and I did have a little falling out
a few days ago." Vince waved his hand as if to indicate how
trivial the disagreement had been, "He worked on a fascinating
case where I could have been most helpful. He found some pretty
Russian Spy Boy to help him instead. I was very hurt."

"Krycek and the self-detonating witch." Skinner mumbled under his
breath. He had been upset with Mulder about that case himself. A
wave of guilt ripped through Walter's heart. He had really ripped
into Mulder about that witch and of course, Mulder had proceeded
to pout looking like some ten-year-old who wasn't really sure
what he had done that was so bad.

"Yes, that's the one, Mr. Skinner. Witches are one of my
specialties. Are you sure he isn't just off somewhere looking for
some new kind of trouble to get himself into?"

Tears ran silently down the Assistant Director's face. Several
vampires moved closer. They were voyeurs by nature, drawn to any
kind of strong human emotion but also, they sensed a
vulnerability in Skinner that they had not seen before. It was
hard for a man to seem dangerous when he was in so much pain.

"I ... I got a note and . . . and this. " The AD shakily held out
a cardboard box to Vince. When the vampire opened the lid, he
found it to be filled with glossy chocolate brown hair. He
carefully put his hand down into the box, feeling it's silky
texture. He then brought it to his face and closed his eyes.
Skinner would have thought he was smelling it except there was no
sign of breath going in or coming out.

Skinner took a deep wobbly breath and continued, "They must have
. ..have shaved his head, all that beautiful dark hair. The note
said . .. said that they were going to send me a . . . a . . .
piece of him every three days. They didn't even ask for anything.
Just . . . just threatened to . . . to . . . cut him up . . . and
. . . "

"It isn't his."

"Wh . . . what? We had it analyzed at our labs. It was a 99%
match for his DNA. It has to be his."

"Mr. Skinner, this hair has never been on or near Fox Mulder. I
don't know why your tests would show that match but I guarantee
you, it isn't his."

"Why? How?"

"Where is Agent Scully?"

"She . . . she's in London. She got a much deserved opportunity
to do some exchange work with Scotland Yard. It's quite a feather
in her cap. She was personally requested for the assist. She . .
. I can't call her back like this. I need to find him. If I find
him in the next few days, she won't have to know. I can stall her
that long. Tell her he's out running or working on a case. I . .
. "

Skinner buried his head in his arms on the table. He felt a dozen
icy cold hands stroking his back. He should have been repulsed
but somehow it was very comforting.

When he lifted his head, the crowd of vampires had dwindled. "We
are putting the word out that someone has stolen one of ours. We
will find him, Mr. Skinner. Vampires are not the blood thirsty
ghouls of legend but we do have our little tricks."

"Why would they send this hair to me if it isn't his?"

"You are too close to this, Mr. Skinner. You aren't thinking
clearly. Either they don't have him and they are trying to
deceive you for some reason. Or, they do have him but didn't want
to actually ruin his looks. Mulder is absolutely gorgeous without
the self awareness that usually accompanies such attributes. That
is a powerful lure for some."

"Yes, I know. I get on him all the time about that. He's just so
careless with his own safety. He has no idea how attractive he
is." He looked up at the vampire, "I really do appreciate your
help in finding him."

"I am most happy to help you. I appreciate you coming to me for
assistance." Vince eyed the big man. He really hated to take
advantage of him in such an unguarded moment but still . . . "Mr.
Skinner, may I assume that I will be collecting my regular fee
from you. I hate to mention it but . . . "

"Yes. Yes, of course. I just want to get him back. I know you
will have expenses to cover. Whatever it is that Mulder usually
gives you is fine, or more if you need it. I really don't care.
You can have every cent I have if you get Mulder back safe and
sound for me."

Vince smiled at the emotionally devastated man, "Mr. Skinner, I
have no need of your money. And you might even enjoy the price I
usually extract from my Sweet Boy. He should, after all, be the
one to pay for his own recovery. Don't you think that would be
only fair?"

Walter smiled for the first time in days. This man sounded so
optimistic. If he was willing to wait to collect his fee from
Mulder, then he must be quite sure of his ability to find him.

"Yes, Vince. You're right, it should be Mulder who pays you."

One Days Later Midnight

Vince stood outside a peaceful house located on a nice suburban
street. Why would anyone think this quiet neighborhood was a good
hiding place for a captured federal agent? The vampire could
sense his Sweet Boy inside. He was hurt. He had been hurt earlier
today. Vince had ascertained the injuries the moment they
happened. It had been Mulder's own fault. He had once again
managed to totally antagonize his captors. Captors who had, up
until the time the agent opened that sexy but infuriating mouth,
been completely infatuated with the dark and beautiful young man.
It was hard to stay enamored with Mulder once he started to talk.

Vince was still furious about this whole thing. Of course, Mulder
was annoying. You had to take that as part of the package. If
these two morons couldn't cope with it, they should have left his
Sweet Boy alone. These two men would be sorry that they ever took
an interest to Fox Mulder.

The darkly handsome Giorgio materialized at his side. His soft
Italian accent drifting on the night breeze. "These are some very
bad men, Vince. They are hurting your beautiful mortal."

"No, they hurt him earlier but he's asleep right now. We have
time. They won't be able to awaken him, I've seen to that. We'll
wait for our king. He is very fond of Mulder and wants to exact
revenge on these men. To be honest, I'm relieved. I would kill
them if need be but I would prefer to just get Mulder back. Let
King D'Argario do the dirty work. He comes from a time when
vampires had to kill to survive."

"Yes, we should all be very thankful for the invention of blood
banks."

Giorgio smiled, "You know, Mr. Skinner is still under the
impression that you are going to ask for money in payment for
your services."

"Mulder will know better. I should think this is worth a whole
week of my choice of sexual fantasy. Don't you agree, Giorgio?"

"Are you going to let Mulder heal first?"

"No, not unless he is hurt worse than I think he is. I plan to
give Mulder to Mr. Skinner to take care of. I find the big man as
caretaker to be very erotic. There is no reason he can't care for
his injuries while I collect my fee. My Sugar Boy was very
naughty. He didn't let me help him solve a case that I was
interested in. I don't think he'll do that again after this
little adventure."

"Be careful, Vince. Mortals can be fragile and Mulder had been
through a lot already. You haven't had your powers very long,
remember, you must maintain complete control at all times.
Otherwise Mulder could get hurt."

"I'll be careful. I would never hurt Mulder, I really do adore
him. And after all, it was Mr. Skinner who made the deal. It is
only fair that he suffer a little in this fantasy of mine. He
wanted his sly little Fox back and he shall have him."

Ten minutes later Antonio D'Argario, the Vampire King, walked out
of the house followed by three of his favored bodyguards and
carrying Fox Mulder's limp body. He handed the agent to Vince
with a small bow. "I would grant you many powers if you would let
me keep this one, Vincent."

"I'm sorry, Sire. He is more valuable to me than even my powers."

The vampire king smiled knowingly, "Ah, so exciting to love a
bewitching young mortal. And Vincent, do not tell the FBI man,
Skinner, where we found him. I don't want an investigation of
this little <crime> that would lead back to us. Those men were
evil, they deserved what they got."

Vince nodded and returned the bow, "Yes, Sire. That will work out
well with my own plans as well. Thank you."

As the vampire king vanished from sight. Vince spent some time
analyzing the injuries that Mulder had incurred during his
captivity. Two severely bruised but not broken ribs, assorted
other bruises to his upper body, a bleeding cut on the back of
the head and another above his left ear, split bottom lip. Vince
sighed, how could anyone want to ruin the looks of that lip.
Foolish mortals! The only injury that was of any real concern was
a nasty knife wound to the right shoulder. It was about three
inches long but not very deep. Vince thought it would be fine in
a few days.

The vampire smiled, his Sweet Boy was merely battered and
bruised. Mulder would be in pain tomorrow but he was not in any
real danger from his wounds. Vince could collect his fee without
delay. The vampire vanished with his beloved charge still in his
arms.

Crystal City Friday, 2:00 a.m.

Walter lay studying the ceiling for another night. He couldn't
remember the last time he had eaten a meal or slept for more than
fifteen minutes at a time. Dana had been furious when she called
tonight and still not gotten the opportunity to speak to her
partner. She was suspicions. Her Mulder radar was up and she was
threatening to take the next flight home.

He actually flinched at the sound of the phone, it seemed
obscenely loud in the quiet, lonely apartment. God, he missed
Mulder and Scully.

"Skinner."

"Mr. Skinner. Good news, we've found your lost boy." Skinner
sprang to his feet, reaching for the jeans and shirt he had
thrown over a chair in the corner of the bedroom.

"Vince? Where is he? Do you need backup to get him out? Is he all
right?"

"Mr. Skinner, he'll be fine. But he is injured and does need your
help. You must come get him and you must come alone. That's very
important. Can you do that, Mr. Skinner?"

"Yeah sure. But . . . why alone?"

"Because he is still in danger and only you can save him." Vince
gave him an address in rural Georgia and hung up before Skinner
had a chance to ask any more questions. Walter looked at the
phone for several long moments. Could this be some kind of set-
up? Mulder trusted Vince when he trusted few others. Skinner
decided to put his trust in Mulder's intuition about the man. He
grabbed his gun and headed for Georgia.

Rural Georgia Just South of Summersville

Skinner slapped another hungry mosquito off the back of his neck.
The directions he had received seemed to be leading him into a
lot of nothing. He was hot and tired and rapidly losing his
limited reserve of patience.

He had to leave the car about three miles back and come in on
foot, there had been no choice. This was rough country,
overgrown, wild and filled with wildlife. It was actually the
kind of hike that Skinner might enjoy under different
circumstances but right now all he could think about was
regaining possession of Mulder.

As he rounded a curve in the path he had been following through
the thick woods, he came upon a structure, an old weathered barn.
The paint was almost all gone but it still looked sturdy. Even as
miserable as Walter was, in this ninety-degree humidity, he had
to admire this kind of workmanship. This barn had been built to
last a hundred years. It had accomplished that feat and more.

Walter realized with a start, that the hair on the back of his
neck was standing up and all the birdsong had stopped. The forest
was deadly silent. He slowly approached the structure. Where
before he had seen craftsmanship and simplicity of line, now he
saw a hundred places where someone could be waiting with an
ambush.

It was a classic set up, an abandoned building. Shit! No one
around. Shit! In the middle of no where. Shit!. He hadn't even
passed another building after turning onto the gravel road at
least ten miles back. Where the hell was Mulder, or even Vince
for that matter? This place looked like it hadn't been disturbed
in years. He needed to have his head examined for playing into
this stunt.

Pulling his gun from his waist holster, he crept quietly around
the old barn. This was ridiculous, there was no one here, this
had obviously been some kind of sick joke. In hindsight, he
wasn't even sure that had been Vince on the phone. Losing Mulder
had made him reckless and negligent. He sincerely hoped he
wouldn't pay for it with his life. He did not want Dana Scully to
come home to find him dead and Mulder still missing. She did not
deserve that. As he once more reached the front of the old barn,
he felt a little disorientated. Something seemed different but he
couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Without warning, a tall, broad shouldered, unkept looking man
stepped out in front of him. "Glad you could make it, Mr.
Skinner." Skinner bent his knees and leveled his gun at the man's
chest, "Who are you? Where's my agent?"

The man snapped his fingers and an equally burly man stepped into
view. He was casually carrying an unconscious Mulder in his arms.

Skinner groaned inwardly. Why did he always find Mulder
unconscious? Shit! Shit! Shit! Could things get any worse than
this?

"Which one do you want, Mr. Skinner? Your choice. You get one now
and one after your debt is fully paid.."

"Debt?! What debt?! One what?!" Another man stepped out of the
barn carrying Scully. How had Scully gotten back from England in
time to get herself kidnaped along with Mulder? Did she have to
follow her wayward partner down every lame brained path he
decided to take?

Skinner bristled, "I don't know what you're trying to pull here
but it is a federal offense to kidnap an agent of the . . . "

"Stop spouting rules and regs, Mr. Skinner, you're in no position
to argue with me about this. You take one of them now, we keep
the other. You must be back here to collect your remaining agent
at exactly midnight on Saturday, April first. That gives you
precisely one week. What I have just told you is very important,
Mr. Skinner, you must not be even one minute late."

The man smiled evilly as Skinner's face flushed an angry red, "I
cannot negotiate for the return of Federal . . . "

"No more discussion, Mr. Skinner! You must have strong feeling
for these two or you would not be here alone like this. I think
they are very special to you. Now which one do you take with you
today?"

Skinner glanced at Scully. Her smooth porcelain face was slightly
pale, surrounded by bright red glimmering hair. She was being
cradled carefully in one of the men's muscular arms. She almost
looked like a sleeping child being carried lovingly to a warm
bed. The giant of a man holding her was looking down at her
tenderly. This was all so strange, even for something involving
Mulder.

And then there <was> Mulder. His dark head was lolled far back
over the arm of his captor, exposing his long neck. Skinner could
see his chest rising and falling but just barely. There was a
wicked looking bruise on his jaw and blood trickling down the
side of his face. There was also blood dripping from the fingers
of his right hand which hung limply down toward the ground.
Skinner had no idea where that particular blood supply was coming
from. The man holding Mulder has a smirk on his face. He expected
Skinner to take the woman out and that meant he could have
another go at the good-looking young cop he was holding.

Skinner read the man's intentions in his eyes. He sighed. No
choice really, he had to get Mulder out of here and fast. He
would not survive one day, let alone one week with this guy. But
if he were to wake up and find out Skinner had left Scully here,
he would be like an unleashed Doberman. Nothing or no one would
be safe.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Talk about being caught between a rock and a
hard place. "Tell me your demands now. I need to take both of
them with me." "Sorry. It must be at precisely midnight on the
first of April. I have no choice and neither do you. Choose one
of your agents now. I'm losing my patience."

"Why are they unconscious?"

"Agent Mulder got a little mouthy and had to be corrected. We had
to quiet the woman down when she saw what was happening her
<partner> there. Rimy went easy on her. She reminds him of his
baby sister." At the mention of his name, the man frowned and
pulled Scully further into his embrace. Skinner looked from
Scully to Mulder. Drip -Drip -Drip. There was now a small pool of
dark blood on the ground under Mulder's soaked hand. Shit! "Give
Agent Mulder to me." Skinner noticed the man holding Scully
glower and pull her even closer to his large body. The Assistant
Director certainly hoped she could still breathe. The big man was
glaring at Skinner, he looked shocked, angered and extremely
protective. <Please God, make that true, for all of our sakes.>

Skinner's words slowly sank in on the man holding Mulder. His
eyes narrowed and his face flushed brightly, "Boss, you said he
would take the woman. I'm not finished with . . . "

"Shut up, Slater." The leader smirked, "Just give the man his
pretty little boyfriend." Skinner had to hold himself back, his
temper had most assuredly reached its limit. He wanted to
strangle these men with his bare hands. But he had to control
himself for the moment or he would get them all killed. "But,
Boss, you said I could have him and .. . "

"Mr. Slater, give the man his property, now."

The man holding Mulder walked slowly toward the Assistant
Director. He stopped about three feet away and let Mulder's body
drop a few inches, bouncing the man roughly in his arms. He did
this several times, grinning broadly. <This guy is strong as a
bull, and twice as dumb.> Skinner held his breath, if this guy
dropped Mulder, his head would bounce off the rocky ground below.
Something, he was certain, his agent did not need at the moment.

Skinner took a careful step forward and held out his arms, never
breaking eye contact with Slater.

Their leader was losing his patience. "Give him his Pretty Boy,
Slater. We have to go now. The time grows short."

Slater practically threw Mulder at Skinner. The Assistant
Director barely kept his legs under him and Mulder's limp body in
his arms. He regained his feet and backed away slowly.

He chanced a glance behind him to locate the path he had come in
on. It was gone! Now the forest was only on two sides of the
structure with the rest of the land being taken up in a wide
expanse of fields, laying fallow, but stretching as far as the
eye could see. And he was standing on a crude, hard packed dirt
road, no gravel. <What the hell.*> Now what was he supposed to
do. He looked back at the men in front of him. They were gone,
too. And the barn . . . the barn. . .

It looked almost new, it's soft red paint glowing in the late
afternoon sun. Skinner felt his mouth go dry. That was what had
seemed different to him earlier, the color of that barn. He felt
goose bumps raise up all over his body. He looked down at Mulder,
hoping for an explanation. All he got was a flutter of eyelashes
and soft muttering, "Da . . . Dana . . . I . . . I'm so sor . . .
sorry . . . "

Shit!Shit!Shit! If Mulder regained consciousness now, he would
throw a holy fit about Scully. Walter wasn't sure what had just
happened but he knew they needed to get out of here. Whatever was
going on was out of his control. And Walter did not feel
comfortable without full control.

He laid Mulder down in the dirt. The agent was just beginning to
open his eyes as Skinner's fist connected solidly with his jaw,
knocking him flat on his back. What was one more bruise on that
face right now anyway? Mulder would never know that some of his
hurt could be attributed to the man who supposedly loved him.
Walter shook his head sadly. At one time, he would have loved the
opportunity to deck Mulder. Now, it hurt him worse than it did
his young agent.

He pulled Mulder up by his shirt, it felt course and rough. Why
the hell was Mulder wearing wool in this kind of weather? He sank
his shoulder into the agent's mid-section and lifted him to fold
over one broad shoulder. They wouldn't move fast but at least
they would move. Now he had to find a phone or maybe a ride back
to civilization.

He decided to stay on the unpaved road for a short time, to put
as much distance as possible between them and that blasted barn.
Mulder was getting heavier by the minute. He was going to have to
put him down shortly for a brief rest.

All of a sudden, something heavy slammed into his back and he and
his burden plunged forward onto the hard roadbed. The last thing
he heard was Mulder's groan as he flew from his boss' arms,
landing mercilessly on the rock strewn dirt road.

As Skinner came to himself several minutes later, he saw Mulder
lying on the ground a few feet to his left. A large shape was
hunched over his unresponsive body. As his vision cleared even
more, he noticed it was Slater, the big man who had wanted to
keep Mulder. And, he had his hands on Mulder's body in places the
young man would not have tolerated had he been awake. Whoa!
Nobody was going to rape Mulder right in front of Walter Skinner.

Skinner waited quietly until the man was totally engrossed in his
exploration of the young, good-looking agent. Stupid Jackass,
should have waited long enough to take Mulder somewhere else. Now
he was going to pay for his depravity.

Skinner's big fist leaped out of the semi-darkness sending the
man reeling backward. Skinner was on him in a heartbeat. Where
the hell had his gun gone? He was getting as bad as Mulder. He
looked around frantically for his weapon. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Skinner forced his bruised body to move, pummeling the man under
him with everything he had. Finally the man fell lifeless.
Skinner stood and used his toe to turn the man over. Out cold. To
be safe, he should kill the bastard but it really wasn't his
style.

Skinner moved back over to Mulder. Still unconscious. Good. He
did not want to have time to deal with Fox Mulder right now.
Especially one who had just been forcefully separated from
Scully. He had to get them out of there. And Mulder was still
bleeding. He had to get a look at him and see where all that
blood was coming from.

The road was obviously too dangerous. He hadn't seen any
buildings coming in and no traffic since he had entered this
place. He would have to find shelter for the night and look for
help in the morning.

He lifted Mulder, let him drop over his shoulder again and hooked
a large hand around the back of his thighs. He glanced back at
Mulder's would be attacker, only to find the body had vanished.
What the hell!!! The now familiar goose flesh crawled up his
spine.

He turned and all but ran into the forest, attempting not to
disturb the ground or foliage, he did not want to leave a trail
to be followed. The sky was beginning to look ominous, it was
very likely going to rain later. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Moving steadily into the dense woodland, Skinner made sure to
keep a sense of their location. Unlike Mulder, who got lost with
frightening regularity, Skinner had a good sense of direction. It
could be natural or it could be his time spent in Viet Nam. You
<did not> get lost in the jungle and live to tell about it.

Thunder rumbled in the background and he heard Mulder moan
softly. Looking around he spotted a large pine tree. Its heavy
branches sweeping low to the ground. On closer inspection, he
found there to be ample space underneath for the two of them and
the ground was covered in a thick, soft layer of needles. This
was probably the best shelter he was going to find at the moment.
And he needed to check Mulder to find out just how badly he was
hurt this time.

He carefully lowered his agent to the ground, started to unbutton
the blue jacket. What the hell! Mulder was wearing some kind of
uniform. Or at least the threadbare remnants of one. He looked
down at himself. He had on a rough, dirty cotton shirt. It looked
like a special handmade weave, worn gray pants and well scuffed
black boots. Shit! He had never seen these clothes before. What
the hell was going on here. His eyes flew back to Mulder. Somehow
he knew that the younger man would be able to figure this whole
thing out. Then they would find a way to get Scully and go home.
As he pulled the wool coat away, he expected to see the shirt
underneath covered in blood. He was half right, no shirt but lots
of blood. How did Mulder stand that rough wool next to his body
like that? He inspected the well-muscled chest. Then sucked in
his breath, Mulder's entire rib cage was 

a deep, dark, stunning shade of purple. No wonder they had to
immobilize Scully. She would have happily killed them for doing
this to her esteemed partner.

But where was all this blood coming from? He gently removed the
coat sleeve, searching for the source of the Mulder leak. Then he
found it. A nasty looking cut on his right shoulder. It was red
and raw, already looking severely infected. Walter grew
lightheaded and released
breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Skinner lifted his hands to Mulder's hair. Sure enough he found
two large bumps on his head, the one on the back, bleeding
freely. There was also one above his left ear. An ear that had
been scraped and cut, it too was bleeding onto his face. "Mulder,
Mulder, Mulder, what am I going to do with you?" His agent did
not answer.

Skinner tore off the tail of his own shirt, using it as an
improvised bandage to curtail the bleeding in Mulder's wounded
shoulder. He then buttoned him back into his jacket. It wasn't
nearly enough to ward off the chill that had fallen with full
darkness. He wished he could get Mulder out of here and into a
hospital.

And then there was Scully. He hoped the man who was holding her
back there was only half as protective as he had appeared to be.
If something happened to Scully, it would literally kill Mulder.
Then Walter would lose both of them. He didn't even want to think
of how that would destroy his own life.

He lifted Mulder under his arms and drug his body under the
protective tree. Skinner lay down beside him, pulling him tightly
into his arms and wrapped his large warm body around the
shivering agent. Had to be shock. Shit, why was it so cold in
Georgia in April?

A short time later the storm arrived with a vengeance. The tree
afforded a good deal of protection from the rain but Skinner was
concerned about the lightening. He felt very vulnerable out in
the open like this. And to make matters worse, Mulder's
temperature had risen sharply. He was thrashing around under
Skinner and calling for Scully. His voice often little more than
a sob.

"Stop . . . no . . . don't. Stop. No . . . no . . . don't do it.
Go .. . going to st . . . stab me. I can't move . . . No . . . no
.. . Dana, oh, Dana . . 

. Agh-h-h-h . . . it hurts . . . can't stop him . . . my head ..
. hitting my head . . . can't stop him . . . strong . . . no . .
. Skinner, no . . . please, Walter . . . don't . . . No-o-o-o-o
.. . "

Skinner's head flew up to look down at Mulder. "What?!" He had
never hurt Mulder. Well he had strapped him a few times but not
that hard and not when he didn't deserve it. Mulder always looked
like a kicked puppy when he was being disciplined but he had
never been that hard on him for Christ's Sake. Had he? Shit!
Shit! Shit!

At least now Mulder was generating enough heat to keep them both
warm. Sleep was defiantly out of the question with Mulder's
desperate cries for this lost partner and rambling diatribes from
his nightmares. Nightmares that seemed to feature Walter Skinner
in the role chief torturer. Just great. He pulled Mulder further
into his arms and kissed his forehead. "I'm going to get you out
of this, Mulder, whatever it is, I promise."

Walter awakened the next morning staring into wide hazel eyes and
with the sound of someone sneaking through the trees close by.

He put his finger up to his mouth to warn Mulder to speak softly,
then whispered, "You okay?" He gently touched Mulder's hot,
flushed face. The smile he got was almost worth the terrible
night he had just spent under this damned tree.

"Are we there yet, Walter? Did you get us across the line."

Skinner stared at him. What line? Maybe it was part of the fever
dreams. "We're in Georgia, Mulder. And I had to leave Scully." He
waited for the fireworks to start.

"Scully?" He looked puzzled, "Bill or Charlie? And why would they
be in Georgia? They're naval officers, there's no ocean in
Georgia." Mulder was looking at him as if he were the crazy one.
Now that was new and different. What the hell was going on here?
"No Mulder, I had to leave Dana Scully back at that barn."

"Dana?!" Skinner clamped a hand over Mulder's mouth. The agent
nodded as he tried to raise himself to a sitting position, "Leave
Dana where?!" he whispered. "Dana is back in Washington with her
father, Admiral Scully. She isn't here? What are you talking
about, Walter?"

Skinner eyed him closely, as he gently pushed him back down,
"Mulder, who is Dana Scully?"

"She's my fiancee. I told you about her, Walter. Don't you
remember? Red hair, beautiful, smart." Mulder smiled again.

"Look Mulder, I don't know . . . what I mean is, don't worry
about Scully . . . I mean, Dana. I'm sure she is exactly where
she should be right now. You've had a hard bump on the head. Just
stay right here, I'm going to go see if I can get some help."

"Be careful, Walter. You know I won't be welcomed in Georgia. If
we get caught, you tell them that you found me hiding and
captured me. Don't you try to save me. I mean it, Walt, don't you
play the hero. The war is over, it's no time to die now, not this
close to your home."

Skinner spared him one puzzled glance before crawling out of his
hiding place. War? The sound of boots on dry leaves was off to
his right. He wished he hadn't dropped his gun. He wasn't going
to be able to chastise Mulder about his slippery fingers nearly
as harshly in the future.

He made his way slowly in the direction of the sound, keeping the
tree where he had left Fox as a focal point. He could not afford
to get turned around here. Especially since whatever rabbit hole
he had fallen down tended to change without notice.

"Hey, Walt. Didn't know ya'all had made it home." Skinner found
his hand being pumped by a old man with an antique gun over his
shoulder. "You remember me don't cha. Folks always called me Old
Man Feeney. Reckon I am an old man now. You been ta' see yer mama
yet? I bet she'll be cryin' tears o' pure joy when you step foot
on her porch."

"No . . . I . . . I haven't . . . "

The man placed a sympathetic hand on Walter's shoulder. "It's all
right, Walt. Lots of boys are coming back a little confused. Tell
you what, why don't I walk with you fer a ways. I'd love to see
the look of Miz Katherine's face when ya' show up there."

"Sure, fine . . . look I have someone over here who's hurt. I
need to get him and then we can go." Skinner had no idea who this
man was. He did have a mother named Katherine but she lived in
Virginia with his dad. Maybe wherever this man took him, there
would be a phone.

With some effort the two men were able to extract Mulder out from
under the tree. Walter looked him over carefully. He was too pale
and had an unnatural brightness to his hazel eyes.

"How you doing? I found us some help."

"I'm okay." Mulder eyed the old man standing nearby suspiciously,
"Is this someone you trust?"

Walter was so engrossed in evaluating Mulder's condition, he
didn't see the look on Feeney's face as he heard Mulder speak.

"Is that a Yankee Boy, Walt? Shit, why didn't you just shoot him.
We can't be hauling no Yankee butt all the way back to your
folk's house. Here you stand back and I'll take care of him right
now."

Skinner was so shocked, he just barely slapped the gun away
before it went off. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Old
Man?"

"Just killing me a Yankee Boy, Walt. You didn't think I was
gonna' let you young bucks have all the fun. We been gettin' rid
of ever Blue Belly that got lost down here. Now stand back, you
made me miss last time."

"Stop. He's . . . he's not what you think . . . "

"Sure he is, I heard him talk. That boy's from one of them up
north states fer sure. New York or maybe Pennsvlvanie."

"Martha's Vineyard." Skinner whispered to himself.

"See, I knowed it. That's up north, right? I never rightly heard
of it but it's got a northern sound to it. Now stand back and let
me put him out of his misery."

Skinner grabbed the barrel of the gun. He felt like his head was
full of cotton.

Everything was happening as if from a great distance. Then he
heard Mulder talking to him. He had evidently been trying to get
his attention for some time and was struggling to get to his
feet.

Skinner reached down to help him and was shocked when his hand
was slapped away, "Get your hands off me, Reb. I can stand up and
die like a man. You just go on and find your family. You don't
need to worry about taking me prisoner, I'd rather be shot
anyway."

Skinner gaped at him as Mulder swayed dangerously on his feet and
turned to face the armed man, "Come on, Old Man. Do what you have
to do." George Feeney raised his gun as Fox swayed once more and
then collapsed into Walter's arms.

"Well, Shit! Stand that boy back up, Walt. I can't get him when
you're holding him like that."

Walter lost his patience. He laid Mulder on the ground as gently
as possible. He then easily relieved the man of his gun. "You
listen to me, Old Man. I don't know who you are or what you think
you're doing but no one, and I do mean no one, is going to shoot
Fox Mulder while I stand by and watch." "I can't believe it.
Walter Skinner gone soft on some pretty Yankee Boy. Your brothers
are going to be turning over in their graves. Your poor mama.
This'll pert near kill her, fer sure."

Skinner suddenly felt a chill run up his spine. "What did you say
about my brothers?"

"Didn't you hear Walt? Robert, Jacob and Steven, they was all
kilt in the war. You're the last Skinner boy left. Your pa's
still alive but he took a bullet in the knee at Appomattox and
can't get around too well. They been waitin' fer word of you fer
months.

Skinner felt the world around him fade into faint sounds and
blurs of color. This was ridiculous. He did have three brothers
but Bobby had a wife and three kids and lived in Oregon. Jake
sold real estate in Tampa and was on his fourth wife. Steve was a
surgeon and lived in Virginia with his Pediatrician wife, Joanne.
What the hell was going on here! He needed to get Mulder
someplace where he could take care of his injuries and get him
conscious long enough to explain just what was going on. They
were in the middle of an X-File and Mulder was missing the whole
damned thing. Walter wished he could be so lucky himself.

"Tell me how to get to my parent's house." He glared at the
Feeney. He did not have time for silly games right now and the
man would be wise to recognize that fact right now.

"Oh, so that's it. You been hurt in the war. Lost your memory.
That explains it." Speaking to Skinner like was part of a slow
learner's class in elementary school, the old man gave him
directions to White Oaks Plantation. Skinner felt like his back
was going to break at any minute. He and Scully may have to force
feed Mulder at times, but he was still no light weight. He had
come to about an hour ago demanding to be let down so he could
walk on his own. That had lasted all of ten minutes before he had
tumbled into a ditch by the side of the road. If he woke up
again, he <was not> getting down. It was easier to carry him than
to dig him out of ditches.

Skinner topped a small rise and stood stunned at the sight before
him. A marvelous white plantation house, complete with stately
pillars and a drive bordered by giant oak trees. White Oaks
Plantation?

He hefted Mulder's weight a little more comfortably on his
shoulder. "Don't suppose I could get you to keep your New England
mouth shut, huh Mulder? I've never been able to shut you up
before, I can't imagine I'll have any better luck now." He sighed
and headed for the house.

White Oaks Plantation Time Unknown

Kate Skinner had just come out to chase the chickens away from
her front veranda. Just because they didn't live as graciously as
they once had, didn't mean they had to live like animals. Maybe
if Charles had a good day tomorrow, he would feel like fixing
that chicken coop so those disgusting birds wouldn't have free
run of the grounds.

She looked up to see a big man with something over his shoulder,
just starting to walk down the drive. She knew in less than a
heartbeat. Walter! She took off running, tears streaming down her
still lovely face, to greet her only remaining son.

Walter stopped his slow progression as he saw someone fling
themselves off the front porch and start running toward him. As
she got closer, he recognized his mother. His mother who should,
at this very minute, be sitting in her pretty kitchen in Virginia
having coffee with
neighbor. He tightened his hold on Mulder's legs. They were
caught in the Twilight Zone and his agent's accent was going to
get him killed. He struggled not to drop the man over his
shoulder, as his mother descended on him with hugs and kisses and
tearful rejoicing at finally being reunited with him.

"Walter, you're home at last. I was so worried. When we didn't
hear any word . . . I was just so scared . . . I don't know if I
could have stood . .. "

"Mom. Mom! Please, everything is fine, Mom. I'm here now.
Everything will be fine." He kissed the top of her dark head.

Mrs. Skinner wiped her eyes on her apron, laughing now but still
with tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh Walter, of course it
will, everything will be fine now. Come in the house. Your father
will be so pleased to see you. And what do you have there?"

She darted a look around her son, turning Mulder's face so she
could see him. "Oh, it's just a boy."

"He's older than he looks."

"I'm sure he is, Son, this war has made everyone older. What
happened to him, Walter? Is he one of the Matthews from Auburn?
They always had such nice looking dark-haired boys."

Walter didn't know what to say to her. This was his mother but
then again it wasn't. Walter himself seemed to be the only one
who knew that he did not belong here, not in this place and not
in this time. That thought made him dizzy again. It was Mulder
who could deal with things like this, not him. And Mulder, if
that little demonstration of self sacrifice he put on for Old Man
Feeney was any indication, thought he was a Yankee soldier, too.

"Mom, I . . . he's hurt. I need to get him into a bed so I can
take care of him. I need . . . "

"Sh-h-h, of course you do, Dear. I'm sorry, I don't know what I
was thinking, keeping you standing in the road like this. You
bring your friend in the house, we'll have him up causing
mischief before you know it."

She laughed at her son's expression, "Oh Walter, any mother can
tell a rascal when she sees one and that boy has it written all
over that handsome face of his."

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

Walter Skinner laid the wet, cool cloth across Mulder's eyes. He
had stripped him of his blue uniform and stuffed it under the
bed. He planned to bury it at his first opportunity. His mother
had found a pair of patched but clean trousers somewhere. Walter
would find
shirt for him once he was up and around.

He looked down at the unconscious man. He hadn't awakened since
he took that last fall in the road and was shifting restlessly on
the bed, mumbling under his breath. Walter was worried, there
were certainly no hospitals available now.

"How is he, Dear?" He smiled at his mother as she came in
carrying a large basket. She really did look lovely in that long
faded gown. Of course, his mother had always been a beautiful
woman and neither age nor ragged clothing had dimmed that beauty
in the least.

"I wish he would wake up."

"He will, Walter. Now you move aside and let me use some of my
herbs on him. We'll have this boy fit as a fiddle in no time."
She took some leaves from her basket and began crushing them in a
small bowl.
large black woman appeared in the doorway carrying a steaming
bowl of water. She smiled brightly at Walter who returned the
smile. He had no idea who she was but she knew him, that was more
than obvious.

His mother touched his arm to get his attention, "You better hold
him down, Walter. This is going to cause him some pain but it's
necessary to stop the infection that has set in that wound."

Skinner got a good hold on Mulder's upper body, pulling him back
to rest against his own broad chest. Mulder's head immediately
lolled back to rest on his shoulder. Walter could feel the heat
radiating from his body. Even holding the agent tightly, he was
unprepared for the man's violent reaction when the hot poultice
was placed on his injured shoulder.

Skinner ran a soothing hand through his hair, "Sh-h-h-h, Fox. It
will be all right. Calm down now, this is the best medicine we
have available to us at the moment."

"Did you call him <Fox>, Walter. That is such an unusual name. I
don't remember any of the Matthews' boys having such an odd name.
Virginia Mathews will just be beside herself, she thought all of
her boys were killed. I can't wait to let her know that I have
one of them here waiting for her." "Mother." He waited until Kate
Skinner was looking into his eyes, "He isn't 

a Mathews. His name is Fox Mulder."

"I don't remember any Mulders, Walter. Where is he from? Is he
one of yours Walter? Was he under your command."

Skinner would not lie to her. He could not lie to his mother,
even this woman who was his mother but not. "Yeah, he is . . .
was .. . Yes, he's one of mine. But, Mom, he's . . . from
Massachusetts."

Mrs. Skinner froze. "He's . . . he's a Yankee? Oh Walter, no."
She rose and turned away from the bed and her son.

"He . . . "

"The Yankees killed your brothers, Walter, all three of them. And
they crippled your father both physically and mentally. He isn't
even my husband anymore. Not the same strong man that I married
anyway. That boy can not stay in this house, Walter, I won't
allow it. I can't."

Walter laid Mulder down gently and rose from the bed. He placed
his hands on his mother's shoulders, turning her softly to face
him. "Please, just until he's well enough. I can't allow him to
die. He saved my life, maybe more than once. And in more than one
way. Can't you find a little charity in your heart for a man who
saved your only son?"

Kate looked deeply into her son's eyes. Then she looked at the
young man still thrashing restlessly on the bed. He did look
terribly young and helpless. This damned war had already claimed
so many mothers' sons. She felt her heart soften.

"All right, Walter. If you say he is worth saving, I will save
him. But the minute he can travel, I want him off this property."
She turned to the other woman, "Sally, I think it would be best
if neither Mr. Skinner nor Mr. Krycek were to hear about this. We
will tell them that this is one of the men who fought with
Walter. Will that be all right with you, Sally?"

The woman nodded her head and studied Walter closely. He had the
feeling that he had never gotten anything over on Sally. "Yes
Ma'am, I think that would be for the best."

"All right, Walter. Now tie his hands to the bed. I have to put
more of these leaves on that wound and I don't want him moving
too much."

"Mom, I don't want to tie him. Can't I just hold him down and ..
. "

"Do as I say, Walter, and stop calling me that ridiculous name. I
am still your mother and I expect to be addressed as such. Now,
your father is waiting for you in the library. He can't manage
the stairs anymore. Why don't you go on down and speak with him
while I finish up here."

As gently as possible, Walter tied Mulder's wrists to the bed. He
gave one last look at the bound man, who looked ridiculously
young lying there like that. He winced as his mother slapped
another hot poultice down on the ugly wound and Mulder screamed
in pain. The agent's hair was dripping with perspiration, his
hands clawing at the bed posts.

"Don't hurt him, Mo . . . Mother. Please."

She looked up at her son and her eyes softened. "Go on with you
now, I'll make sure nothing happens to him before you get back.
He'll be fine, I promise, Walter. I won't hurt him more than is
necessary."

One hour later, a visibly shaken Walter Skinner came in the room
to be greeted by languid hazel eyes watching him closely.
Mulder's hands were still tied to the bed and he seemed to be
pulling at the restraints without conscious thought.

"Oh Mulder, I am so glad you're awake. I've never had anything
like this happen in my life. My Dad in downstairs but he . . . he
only has one leg and . . . and he's so . . . so bitter. And my
brothers. . . they're are all dead here. We have to get out of
this place, Mulder, we have to get back where we belong."

He moved to untie his agent, rubbing the raw bruised wrists.
Mulder grabbed his arm, "I told you, Walter, you have to give
this up. You tried to save me and we didn't make it. Now you have
to forget about me and stay here with your family. As soon as it
gets dark, I'm going to sneak out of here. I . . . I want you to
know that even though we haven't known each other long, I . . . I
well, I love you, Walter, and I always will. I have no regrets
about what happened between us and don't you be letting it eat
away at you either. You're the only man I've ever . . . ever been
with like that. It just happened, it wasn't your fault or mine.
It was this damned war. We took what comfort we could, where we
could. No sin in that. Now it's time for you to find yourself a
nice girl and settle down here. If I make it back to Washington
in one piece, I'll find a way to let you know."

Skinner got a vice grip on his chin, pulling his face around,
boring his eyes with his own furious brown ones. "You listen to
me, Mulder. You will not sneak out of here and take off on your
own. I may not know what the hell is going on here but this is no
time for you to pull one of your world famous ditches. Do you
understand me, Mister?"

Walter let go and scrubbed his face as Mulder blinked at him with
wide befuddled eyes. <I know how you feel, Kid.> "Listen Mulder,
I know that you don't . . . what I mean is . . . Mulder, do you
trust me?"

"Of course I do. With my life."

"Good. Now is not the time for you to disobey my orders like you
usually do." He stared pointedly at his confused agent. "You have
to do exactly what I say, when I say it. And that means you do
not leave this house without me. Oh, and don't talk to anyone
either? If you do have to talk . . . fake a southern accent or
something."

Mulder gave him a raised eyebrow and a lopsided grin but remained
silent.

"You heard me and I mean it. I am going to find a way out for us
but you have to behave for once. Krycek is downstairs,
he's...Krycek is the overseer here and he's....Hell Fox, everyone
here hates the Yankees and you....you just...when you talk...I'm
not ..." Skinner took a deep breath and leaned down with a hand
on each side of Mulder's head, "You just listen to me Fox Mulder,
I may not know where the woodshed is around here but I bet
they've got one. If you don't follow my orders to the letter, you
and I are going to be spending some quality time there. You got
that?"

Mulder just stared at him for a few stunned moments before he
finally found his voice.

"Walter, I know you're a little older than I am but not that
much." Mulder still had one dark eyebrow raised high over his
eye. It was a very Scully-ish look. Oh damn, Scully, he had
forgotten about her. Where the hell did she fit in this nightmare
they were living.

"Old enough Mulder, and big enough, too. Just make sure you don't
make me angry enough. Now you stay right here and rest. I'm going
to go see what the hell is going on in this looney bin. I mean it
about that woodshed, you step one foot out of this room and I'll
tan your hide but good." Mulder was still laughing as Walter left
the room.

As night fell, Walter had made no progress with finding a way
back to his own century. Mulder's fever rose sharply and he once
again thrashed on his sweat soaked bed and called for Scully.
Skinner stayed in the room with him throughout the long night,
praying that he would not die. Sometime near daybreak, Mulder
quieted and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. At full light,
Walter left Mulder's room and hurried downstairs. He needed to
talk with his mother. She seems to be an island of sanity in this
otherwise lunatic world. He managed to avoid his dad.

So much for sanity. His mother informed him that she wanted
nothing to do with Mulder. He really couldn't blame her. She did
think she had lost three of her sons and a husband to the war. It
was hard to imagine a war where a good man like Mulder was the
enemy just because he had been born north of the Mason Dixon
Line. Every generation had seen it's own brand of insanity.

He spent most of the day in Mulder's room. Washing down his
feverish body. Making sure his mother did not do more harm than
good with her basket of evil smelling herbs. And holding Mulder,
both while he screamed in pain as the poultices were laid on his
torn flesh and as he thrashed and cried out in fever dreams.
Dreams where he lost Dana Scully and where Walter Skinner
betrayed and hurt him. Walter thought the torturous day would
never end. Toward mid afternoon, the fever finally broke and
Mulder slept soundly until the next afternoon.

When he awakened, he was almost his old self. Eyes bright with
intelligence instead of fever. He steadily improved for the rest
of the day. Once on the road to recovery, his recuperation was
almost miraculous to watch. He quickly became an exasperating
force to be reckoned with once more. He was more determined than
ever to <save Walter> by heading north on his own.

After dinner, Mulder was so restless that he was driving Walter
mad. He decided to take him out for some fresh air. They ended up
in the stables. They sat in a well hidden stall, on some fresh
smelling hay, talking about what Walter thought was going on.
Instead of being intrigued, as Mulder should have been, the agent
was sure his presence was driving Walter into dementia. He
adamantly insisted that it was time for him to leave.

Walter became so incensed, he grabbed the stubborn Mulder and
pulled him forward until they were nose to nose, fully intending
to set him straight once and for all. The next thing he knew they
were kissing. They made love on an old blanket laid on the pile
of fragrant hay. Skinner had wanted to wait until Mulder was
stronger but Fox was anxious to feel really alive again. It had
not been their most robust bout of lovemaking but it had been a
celebration of life and love for both of them.

Afterwards, Walter had tried to get his brilliant young agent's
view on their current situation. Mulder kept insisting that he
was, indeed, a Yankee spy and that he was <not> taking Walter
down with him. And, to make matters worse, he was throughly
convinced that he would be discovered and killed by the angry
southerners. It was, he said, only a matter of time. He begged
Skinner to shoot him if it looked like he was going to be caught
and hanged. He was terrified of hanging. Oh, and to please get
word to Dana Scully that he was sorry and that he loved her.

Walter became so frustrated with the hardheaded young man that he
had eventually lost control, pulling Mulder carefully over his
knees and delivering several sharp, stinging slaps to his
unprotected backside. Mulder had gasped and wiggled but had not
avoided having his butt throughly reddened by an angry and
determined Skinner.

Walter had then dragged a wide eyed and stunned Mulder back to
the house and put him to bed. Evidently this Mulder wasn't used
to Skinner's unusual disciplinary measures. Walter had, however,
been successful in extracting a promise that Fox would not leave
the property on his own. It seemed that a few well placed smacks
got Mulder's attention and grudging cooperation in any time
period.

He had later apologized to Mulder for losing his temper but the
young man seemed to still be in shock from the impromptu spanking
he had received. Good! Maybe it would shake him up enough to keep
him in line for a few days. With Mulder, a few days could make
all the difference in the world. For the first time since this
had fiasco begun, Skinner got a good nights sleep.

Mulder, exhausted from his illness and their romp in the hay, had
not awakened, or even moved once from his position on Walter's
shoulder.

The next morning, Skinner had just cleared the back door when he
was greeted by Alex Krycek. That insolent sneer still very much
evident on his handsome face. There were two other men standing
behind him. Two large African Americans in tattered pants who
eyed Skinner with obvious animosity.

"Good to have you back, Walter." Krycek smiled at him. "Is that
fact, Krycek. I'm glad you think so. It seems Dad is putting a
lot of faith in you these days. I hope whatever you're doing is
for the good of the family." "I hope whatever your doing is for
their good too, Walter. Old Man Feeney stopped by. Said you
brought some wounded home with you. Yankee wounded. That wouldn't
be true now would it, Walter Old Boy?" Skinner grabbed the front
of Krycek's shirt and watched the men behind him tense, "Leave
Mulder alone, Krycek." Krycek pulled Skinner's hands away from
his shirt, "I wouldn't think of messing with your boyfriend,
Walt. By the way, you might want to head out toward the
cookhouse. Tom Colton is out there pestering your mama to sell
out to him again." 

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

Krycek stood in the open doorway and surveyed their new guest.
Mulder lay quietly on the bed, his eyes closed, long dark lashes
resting on his flushed cheeks. His shoulder had been freshly
bandaged, it looked very white against his skin. "Well, well,
well. Look what we have here. Walter always did have good taste."

Mulder's eyes popped open, startled to see a dangerous looking
stranger standing over the bed, smiling at him in a way that
caused the hair to stand up on the back of his neck.

"Are you a Yankee, Boy? Old Man Fleeney say's you're a Yankee for
sure."

Mulder looked around wildly. Shit, what should he do now?
"Wh...where's Walter. Who are you?"

Krycek's smile widened, "Whoo-he! Boys come in here and look at
this. I done captured me a Yankee and a pretty one at that. Big
Joe, take this boy down to the woodshed and let's show him how we
feel about slutty little northern boys corrupting our big brave
war heroes."

Big Joe and another equally large man stepped into the room and
reached for Mulder who was now scrambling frantically to get off
the bed before they reached him. He soon realized that he was too
weak to put up the kind of fight he needed to protect himself
from these men. He was easily hauled to his feet, only managing
one good punch to Big Joe before Krycek's fist met his jaw. Big
Joe threw the unconscious man over his shoulder and headed for
the woodshed.

As they passed the door, Charles Skinner called from the library,
"What's going on? Who's out there?"

"It's Alex Krycek, Mr. Skinner, Sir. We found a Yankee skulking
round here. I'll take care of him, don't you worry none."

"A Yankee, on White Oaks?! You take care of him, Alex, you take
care of him good."

"Oh, I will Mr. Skinner. I will."

Mulder regained consciousness to find himself in a small shed. It
smelled strongly of freshly cut wood. He was bent over a rough
wooden bench of some sort, his feet were several inches off the
floor. His sore ribs were supporting most of his weight and he
was finding it difficult to breathe properly. He figured the
worst was still yet to come.

Alex Krycek stepped around in front of him and rubbed his hand
through Mulder's thick hair and down his smooth back. "So tell
me, Yankee Boy, are you and old Walter real close? Bet a pretty
boy like you can keep a man real warm on a cold night. Did you
keep Walter warm, Boy?' He leaned down to stare into Mulder's
eyes, "Did you use that beautiful mouth of yours to make him real
hot?"

Mulder spit in his face.

"Damn it! You're going to regret that, Yankee. You're going to
regret it real bad." Krycek took a dirty rag out of his pocket
and stuffed it in Mulder's mouth. "I'd prefer to hear you scream
but I don't want Walter down here putting his nose in my
business."

He slapped the back of Mulder's head, "When I get done with you
boy, you'll be begging to do anything I ask you to do. Henry,
hand me one of those hickory switchs you cut."

Mulder felt his pants being stripped from his body. He was
totally naked and defenseless. Come on Walter, showing up right
now would be really good. The first lash of the slender switch
burned across his shoulders like fire, taking

the rest of the air from his lungs. The switch bit again, this
time across his butt. An agonizing stripe of pure pain. He
screamed around his gag as he bucked furiously.

"Bet you never thought, when you were eating roasted hickory nuts
up north, that someday you would feel the fire of a hickory
switch on your naked butt. Now did you, Pretty Fox?"

The third stroke was even harder, running diagonally from left
shoulder to the middle of his right buttock. The tip of the
flexible switch bit into his flesh fiercely. He felt something
hot and wet run down his ass right before the next lash struck.

For Mulder, the time passed in a blur of agonizing white-hot pain
and Krycek's lascivious threats as to what he intended to do to
Mulder once he had worn out his sturdy little hickory switch.

White Oaks Plantation One Hour Later

Mulder was right. Tom Colton was an asshole, in this time period,
or any other. He had found the man wheedling his mother to tears
about selling this property. The man had not been pleased when
her son came on the scene, very much alive. He had evidently
thought all the Skinner boys were dead and buried. From the look
on Colton's face he was trying to think of a way to make that a
reality. Walter made a mental note to keep a close eye on Mr.
Colton.

Walter walked into Mulder's room to find an empty bed. He felt
his temper boil up in his chest, "I was not joking about that
woodshed, Mulder. When I find you . . . "

He went flying down the stairs two at a time, "Mom! Mom, what
happened to Mulder. Where is he?"

Mrs. Scully met him at the bottom of the stairs. "What's wrong,
Dear?"

"Have you seen Mulder? He isn't up there."

"I tended his shoulder earlier, he really should take it easy for
a few more days. I told you that boy was trouble. Don't worry,
Walter. He probably just went on back home. He'll be fine."

Skinner searched frantically. Mulder was not in the house, he had
looked there first, from top to bottom. He had also already gone
through most of the out building. "If he's taken out on his own,
I'll beat him senseless. He'll wish he'd never . . . "

Something caught his eye, he bent down to inspect the ground on a
well worn path from the stables into the forest. Fresh blood. He
didn't need the FBI crime labs to tell him it was Mulder's. Who
else's could it be. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Snaker's Cabin Grover's Woods

Mulder came to this time with his cheek pressed against rough
wood. He slowly raised his head, it seemed to be some sort of
cabin, in bad repair and sparsely furnished. He rose up a little
further and almost blacked out again from the wave of pain that
radiated from his back. Whipped! The south was just not a safe
place for a boy from the Vineyards.

He crawled carefully to his feet, the skin on his back, from
shoulders to knees, pulling tightly and sparking with white-hot
hurt. Shit!

He found some filthy clothes lying on the floor and carefully
pulled them on. He had to get out of here, away from that pervert
Krycek, and not back to Walter either. If he stayed with him much
longer they would both be killed. He didn't want that. He didn't
want anything to happen to Walter.

Unlike Walter, he didn't have any family left. His sister had
been missing for years, taken from her home when she was just
eight years old and never heard from again, she was now presumed
dead. Both parents had died soon after of a broken heart. Mulder
always thought they blamed him. That he should have watched his
baby sister closer. Maybe they were right. He shoved the thought
away, he didn't have time for guilt right now.

Actually, truth be known, he didn't want to die either. He still
had his beautiful Dana waiting for him and he still had his work.
With the war over, maybe he could get back to his real job.
Personal bodyguard for President Lincoln. He admired the man's
integrity and keen intellect greatly and he was determined that
the President should have ample time to reunite the country. And
maybe, just maybe, he might find his sister some day.

He hadn't been able to find any boots in the cabin, so he had
wrapped his feet in rags. He hoped the snakes would find him as
unappealing as the rest of the inhabitants of Georgia did.

The door had been locked but Mulder had picked up a few tricks in
his years as a special agent for his country. Once outside, he
swayed on his feet, the landscape around him going in and out of
focus. He gave himself only a few moments to gain some semblance
of balance and then he set off in what he sincerely hoped was
north.

If his superiors had known about his terrible sense of direction,
he would never have been allowed to perform as a secret courier.
He would, no doubt, have been kept safely in Washington. Dana had
tried everything in her power to make that happen, as it was.
Even to enlisting the help of her well placed and powerful
father. But Mulder had been determined.

A spy with a terrible sense of direction, just another little
Mulder secret, like his love for another man. A man wearing a
gray uniform, who had found him hurt and bleeding, in a rain
soaked field in Alabama. Mulder had been sure he was going to
shoot him but he had rescued him instead. Skinner had saved his
life in more ways than one. Skinner was a man he would die for. A
man he would leave Georgia, on his own, to protect.

White Oaks Plantation Late Afternoon

Walter sat on the steps leading into the house with his head in
his hands. He didn't know where else to look for his lost agent.

"Hey, Walt." He looked up to see Tom Colton seated on a tired
looking horse. "What do you want now, Colton?"

"There's a Yankee been sighted out in Grover Woods. We're all
going to hunt him down. You should come along. Time you became
one of us again, Walter."

Skinner stood up. "What do you mean by <sighted in the woods>?
Which way was he headed?"

"Well now, that's the strange thing. He seems to be moving in
circles. You know those northen boys haven't got very big brains.
Probably lost. It'll make the hunt a little boring but still be
fun to watch the hanging."

"Shit! Yeah, stay right here. I'll be right with you. Don't
leave." Skinner ran for the stables. It had been years since he
had been on a horse, he only hoped he didn't make a complete fool
of himself.

Snaker Cabin Grover Woods

Mulder stood unsteadily and looked around. All these damned trees
looked alike but that big rock looked much too familiar. Shit! He
needed a good place. Just the right place. He was tired. So
damned tired, he shivered, and cold, too. Perspiration ran into
his eyes and he swiped a mud caked hand across them, making his
vision even more fuzzy.

Finally he spotted an area that looked inviting, protected on
three sides by huge pines, with just enough room for him to curl
up under a fallen log. Perfect!

Curling himself into the cozy place, he pulled his knees up to
his chest and wrapped his arms around himself. He was shaking
hard now. Funny, he had always heard that the south was warm but
he was so damned cold. He patted the ground weakly. He had found
it, a good place to die. He didn't want to hang. He had seen a
hanging once and it had horrified him. If he had a gun, he would
just take care of this quickly. Maybe he would get lucky for once
in his life and die before they found him out here. He drifted
off to sleep thinking of Dana Scully. She was going to be so
angry that he had gone and gotten himself killed.

He heard not the slightest sound to announce Walter's arrival. He
was just suddenly at his side, pulling on his arm. "Come on,
Mulder, time to go. We have to get out of these woods."

"Walter . . . go home!" Mulder was sure he was yelling but Walter
had to lean closer to even hear him. The agent patted the soft
pine needles in front of him, "See, Walter? Good place."

"Good place? Good place for what?"

Skinner was still pulling on his arm and Mulder was starting to
get annoyed. "Walter . . . go back . . . to family. I found . . .
found good place to die. I don't . . . don't want to hang.
Scared."

Skinner pulled Mulder over to lie on his back blinking up at the
sun filtered through the trees. His eyes were glassy green and
fever bright again. Walter sighed and pulled him up to a shaky
sitting position.

"Damn it, Mulder! When I get you back to DC, you won't be able to
sit down for a month," Skinner's angry voice hissed. "Now keep
quiet. Can you walk?"

A wide-eyed Mulder nodded but Walter was not all that encouraged
as he listed drunkenly to the left.

Mulder tried to focus on Walter's face. He had certainly seen a
new side to the man since coming to White Oaks. His superiors
back in Washington, whom he constantly irritated, would find this
whole wood shed thing uproariously funny. Mulder was a little
less enthralled with the idea but this was, after all, Walter.
And as far as Mulder was concerned if Walter wanted to beat him
seven ways from Sunday, he'd let the man do it. He owed him his
life.

"Now you listen to me, Mulder, we are going to move in that
direction." He pointed over his shoulder, "You stay so close
behind me that I can feel you against me. And I'm telling you
right now, <do not> wonder off like you sometimes do. Don't think
about anything, except keeping yourself glued to my back. You
have to stay focused, Kiddo. Now let's go."

It took them most of the day to crawl slowly out of the thick
underbrush, careful to avoid search parties. As dusk settled, the
weary lynch mob gave up. Resigning themselves to the
disappointment of no hanging and went home for supper.

It was well past dark before Skinner dared carry an exhausted and
semi-conscious Mulder into the stables and up into the loft. He
helped him to lie on a pile of straw. Mulder immediately rolled
over onto his stomach with 

a distressed, pain-filled groan.

"What's wrong, Mulder?"

Skinner gently pulled at his agent's shirt, noticing for the
first time the dark stains that covered it. He gasped when he saw
the condition of Mulder's bloodied back.

"Who . . . who did this to you?"

"Krycek . . . it could have been . . . been worse. He was going
to rape me but I think I must have passed out on him. Bet he
wishes he hadn't . . . waited now."

"That Son of a . . . " Skinner covered the agent with a ratty old
blanket he had found in one of the stalls. When he got his hands
on Krycek, he was going to kill him, pure and simple. And he
sincerely hoped Krycek appreciated the favor, he could turn him
over to Dana Scully instead.

"Listen to me, Mulder. I've been giving this some thought while
we waited for it to get dark and I think I may have solved this
thing. When we left that old barn it was Sunday the twenty-sixth.
We've spent one night in the woods and three here at White Oaks,
that makes tomorrow Thursday. We have to be back at that barn on
Saturday, to get Scully. Which gives us only two more days that
we have to keep you hidden here."

Mulder was looking up and blinking at him again. <Clueless
Mulder> was back , very cute but totally exasperating. If this
Mulder held true to form, he would not agree to anything when he
was the least bit confused about what was going on. Shit!
"Walter, you need to save yourself. Let me go, I can take care of
myself. I can . . . "

Skinner grabbed his chin, forcing his face up until they were eye
to eye. "Mulder do you care about me?"

"You . . . you know I do."

"Do you trust me?"

"You saved my life."

"I did?"

Mulder cocked his head to one side, "Yeah, when that guy got me
in the shoulder with his bayonet and left me for dead. Remember?
I thought you were going to finish me off but you picked me up
instead."

The agent flinched in surprise when Skinner growled at him, "Then
you listen to me, Mulder. You have to remember that I love you
and that you can trust me. I am not going to leave you and I am
not going to let you die. It would hurt me too much and besides
that, Scully would kill me anyway. I do not want Dana Scully to
kill me, she will make it hurt too much. So you . . . Are. Not.
Going. To. Die. Any questions?"

"Yeah just one," Mulder slurred, his head swimming from
exhaustion, "How do you know Dana Scully well enough to be afraid
of her?"

"You'll find out soon enough, at least I hope so. Now for two
days you stay hidden and I mean it. On Friday night, as soon as
it gets dark, we'll head north and try to find that barn again.
Right now I'm going to go find you some food, which you <will>
eat. You had better be here when I get back, or else."

"Yes, Sir." Walter didn't bat an eye at that form of address,
although he knew Mulder meant it sarcastically. He just carefully
climbed down the ladder and made his way to the cookhouse.

Mulder really wanted to stay awake and try to get his thoughts in
order but he was just too damned tired. He was asleep before
Skinner was out the door.

Snaker's Cabin Grover's Woods

Alex Krycek threw the rickety chair against the wall and watched
it splinter into a thousand pieces. Shit, how could that Yankee
kid have gotten out of here. He had underestimated that innocent
looking face. Well never again. Next time he would be ready for
the sneaky little fox.

He kicked out at the table leg, sending if toppling over onto the
floor. He should have taken him when he had the chance. He
thought he would be able to come back here and take his time,
enjoy the pretty boy all night if he wanted. Make him cry, make
him scream, make him beg to be used any way Krycek saw fit. Well,
he would just have to find him. He could not have gotten far.
Krycek hadn't given him a lot of lashes, he had wanted him alert.
But he had hurt him enough to slow him down. He would find the
pretty boy and then he would make him pay.

White Oaks Plantation Thursday, 11:00 a.m.

Krycek had watched as Walter Skinner repaired the chicken house.
The man had his shirt off and Alex had to say, the man was in
good shape. But he preferred slender, pretty men. Dark-haired men
with pouty mouths and big innocent eyes.

Walter had given nothing away by word or deed as to where he had
the Fox hidden. But Krycek was sure the man knew exactly where he
was. He had watched Skinner's frantic search yesterday. If Mulder
were still lost, Skinner would not be this calm today. Oh Yeah,
he had him all right. All Alex had to do was be patient and stay
alert.

Both Alex and Walter looked up as several men road into the yard.
"Morning, Walter. Glad to see that you made it home safe."

"Thanks. It's nice to be back." Walter had no idea who these
people were. He was not going to let down his guard until he was
sure they were not a threat to either Mulder or himself. He
checked, out of the corner of his eye, for the shotgun that he
had nearby. He kept it handy now at all times. "We heard you had
a Yankee here, Walter. We want to have ourselves a little talk
with the boy. Maybe take him off your hands."

"You're mistaken. There are no Yankee soldiers at White Oaks. I
brought someone back with me but he was a man under my command.
He left already, went on home I guess."

"You sure about that, Walter?"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Alex Krycek walked up behind Skinner. "What's the problem, Lem?"

Lem swallowed hard as he looked at the dangerous looking man
addressing him, "No problem, Mr. Krycek. Just don't like Yankees
that's all."

"Well, I can understand that but we don't have no Yankee Boys
here and if we did, I'd know exactly what to do with them."

Skinner trembled with anger as Krycek gave him an evil smile.
"Well, guess Old Man Feeney was mistaken then. We'll just be
goin' on home now. You see any damned Yankees, you just let us
know."

The dozen or so men rode out of the yard, kicking up dust as they
went. It settled on Kate Skinner's freshly washed sheets that
were hanging on the line. Walter watched them leave, deep in
thought. He had to get Mulder out of here, the sooner, the
better.

He heard Krycek's voice slither into his ear, "Better fix that
henhouse real strong, Walter. I heard there might be a Fox still
hidin' out around these parts. Be a shame to have to kill
something that pretty."

"He's gone, Krycek."

"Sure he is, Walter, sure he is." Krycek ambled off, leaving
Skinner even more determined to get Mulder off the plantation and
out of Georgia.

Stable Loft Friday, 2:30 a.m.

Mulder paced in the stuffy confines of the hayloft. He felt like
a trapped animal now that his fever was all but gone. He needed
to get out of here. If he could just figure out which way to go
but Walter had refused to see reason about him leaving alone.
Mulder knew that if he traveled by day he could head north by the
sun but that would be foolishly dangerous, even for him. And if
he traveled alone at night, chances were he would just go in
circles until he starved to death or was eaten by some wild
animal. At least that would be better than at the end of a rope.
Mulder shivered at that thought. As he paced, the anxiety he was
feeling built to an overpowering urge to get out of that barn, if
only for a few minutes. Walter would not be happy but the man
seldom smiled now anyway.

Mulder walked carefully to the hayloft door and peered between
the cracks. Not a soul in sight and no lights burning in the
house or in the servants quarters.

He carefully eased himself down the ladder to the floor of the
stable. Just 

a little walk, not to far. He would stay in sight of the house
but he just had to stretch his legs a little.

He eased the door open, looked out again, and then moved
carefully out into the dark yard. And right into a solid right
cross from Alex Krycek. Krycek threw the unconscious man over his
shoulder and started for his cabin. "So easy, Little Fox. How did
you ever survive the war? Good thing you hooked up with Skinner
or I don't think I'd be anticipating such an entertaining night.
Maybe I should send Ol' Walter a thank-you note for keeping you
alive for me."

White Oaks Friday, 6:30 a.m.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Walter kicked at the abandoned blanket lying
in the nest of straw.

"Where the hell is he now. I swear when I get my hands on him,
he's going to fully understand the concept of a woodshed. I have
had it with him. No matter what century," Walter kicked the wall,
"no matter what the danger,"

he kicked at a particularly defiant looking pile of straw, "that
man cannot . . . will not . . . follow my orders! I am going to .
.. "

"Walter, Dear is everything all right up there?"

Skinner looked over the edge of the loft to see his mother
looking up with a great deal of concern on her face. Probably
thought he was nuts. Hell, he was nuts. Anyone who associated
with Fox Mulder for more than two hours was no doubt considered
certifiable.

"I'm fine, Mom. Just . . . uh . . . stubbed my toe."

"Walter where did you pick up that <Mom> word. Did you get it
from that atrocious little Yankee boy? It really sounds most
disrespectful, Son."

"Sorry, Mo . . . uh, I mean, Sorry Mother."

"You're forgiven, Dear. Why don't you come in and have some
breakfast with your father. I know he would like to speak with
you about taking over the running of the plantation."

"I can't right now, Mo . . . Mother. I have something I'm
finishing up. I ll speak with him later today."

"All right, Walter. But you must remember, you can't fix
everything in one day. It will take years to get this plantation
back to it's original glory."

Walter shook his head, wondering if the Walter Skinner from this
century was lying in some forgotten battlefield grave, rotting.
What would his mother do then? Suddenly Walter realized what he
had just been thinking. He <had> gone as crazy as Mulder. This
was not real. This was some dream or something and he was going
to wake up any minute in his own bed with Mulder and Scully and a
hell of a hangover.

Snaker's Cabin Grover's Woods

Mulder heard a low moan and opened his eyes, only to find he had
been the one moaning. He thought he might be back in that dirty
little shack, only this time it was worse. Much, much worse.

He was naked again, only this time he was on the filthy cot,
splayed across the filthy rolled up straw mattress, his head
resting against the rope frame. His legs where about eighteen
inches apart, his ass the highest point of his body and his
genitals on full display. And, he was tied firmly in this
humiliatingly obscene position.

He heard a sharp whistle and then a streak of pure fire landed
across his butt. Unprepared for the assault, Mulder screamed.
Clamping his teeth down on his lip to stifle any further
outbursts. He heard another whistle and another blazing stripe
was laid across his tender buttocks. He had not had time to fully
recover from his last meeting with Alex's hickory switch. He
tried to look over his shoulder but he was tied too tightly.

He gritted his teeth as he heard the whistle again and felt the
agonizing sting rip across his flesh. He drew in a sharp hissing
breath.

"What nothing to say, Yankee Boy? No begging. No offers that
might be more appealing to me tanning the hide off your pretty
ass?"

"Go to he . . . hell . . . Augh-h-h-h-h!"

"Let's try this again, shall we? Now what can you offer me that
would stop this razor strop from ripping your flesh to shreds.
Come on Pretty Fox, think hard."

Krycek brought the strop down at a diagonal from right to left
and quickly followed with another from left to right. A perfect
X, overlapping his previous perfectly spaced stripes. Krycek
smiled proudly, no one could wield a strap like Alex Krycek and
no one enjoyed doing it more either.

Mulder jerked his backside and gasped for breath. The old cot
under him rocked but it was built sturdy oak and double braided
hemp rope. Mulder was effectively snared in a trap that offered
him up for Krycek's use. Krycek struck again, this time low where
buttock met thigh, then two in quick secession across the top of
each thigh. The solid leather strap wrapping around to bite the
inside of each leg.

Mulder screamed again and jerked frantically on the ropes that
held him. He felt Krycek touch his tortured flesh.

"You're bleeding a little, Fox. Why don't you tell me what to do
instead of welding this strap." Another stripe of pure agony
across his butt. "Ah-h-h-h, Please, what . . . what do you want?"

He felt Krycek's fingers trailing over his sizzling flesh and
shivered with hurt and revulsion. "You know Fox, this old razor
strop belonged to my Daddy. He was a mean Son of Bitch, too."

"What. Do. You. Want?!"

"I only want what you give that rich son of a bitch, Skinner. I
want you, Fox."

"Wh . . . what? Augh-h-h-h--h!"

Krycek lashed the strap down from right to left, then backhanded
right to left, then reversed the stripe once more. He was becomes
painfully aroused from watching his captive, now glistening with
sweat and tears, bucking and crying out in pain.

Krycek laid his hand on the scorched flesh of the trembling man
in front of him. He was really enjoying this but if he continued
much longer, the man would pass out and he did not want that to
happen just yet.

"So Fox, have you always preferred sex with men, rather than
women?"

Mulder did not want to have this conversation, especially not
with this man, but he didn't have the will left to resist and
earn more strokes of that horrible strap.

"No . . . no, I like women. I have a fiancee back in Washington.
Ah-h-h-h-h!"

"But you like men too. I know you do, Pretty Fox. I've seen the
way you.look at that big Sugar Daddy of yours."

"Only . . . only like . . . Walter. Oh-h-h-h! Augh-h-h-h! Pl .. .
please!"

Krycek looked down at the distraught man, straining against the
ropes holding him to the cot. His once flawless backside was now
covered with angry red welts. A jew drops of bright red blood
could be seen where the stripes overlapped each other.

Mulder felt Krycek's fingers, slippery with something greasy and
foul smelling enter him roughly.

In a few minutes, you won't be able to say <just Walter> anymore,
Pretty Boy. Now arch your back and offer yourself up to me. You
are about to find out what a real man feels like."

Mulder felt the rough fingers leave him and something larger and
harder enter him in one agonizing stoke. He screamed as darkness
closed in on all sides. Krycek held very still, buried in the hot
depths of the unwilling man. Mulder was disappointed when the
blackness receded. He would have much preferred unconsciousness.

White Oaks Plantation Friday, 9:00 a.m.

Walter Skinner held the pitchfork against the jugular vein of the
huge man known as Big Joe. The man's ever present partner, Henry,
was no where to be seen and Walter was anxious to find out where
Mulder was before help arrived for Big Joe.

"I...I kaint tell ya', Surh. Mr. Krycek would kill me."

"<I'm> going to kill you, Joe. Make no mistake about it. If you
don't tell me where Krycek took Mulder, you are a dead man." He
buried the sharp prong just a little deeper into the man's
throat. A small trickle of blood ran down his ebony skin. Walter
meant business and he wanted to make sure this man knew just how
serious he was.

One more jab of the fork and another small tickle of blood ran
down Big Joe's throat. "Please, Mr. Waltah, Surh . . . "

"Tell me, Big Joe and no one need ever know how I found out." Big
Joe's eyes made contact with Walter's and Joe saw his own death
reflected back at him. He hadn't liked the idea of stealing the
Yankee anyway. No man should be forced to have sex with another
man unless he wanted to. Big Joe knew all about being forced.

"Snaker's Shack, south of Grover's Woods. Follow the path."

Skinner threw down his pitch fork, "Wise decision, Joe."

Snaker's Cabin Grover's Woods

Mulder regained consciousness slowly aware only that his fever
was back and that he hurt all over. He tried to remain quiet but
the welts on his butt were pulling and it felt like his flesh was
being torn from his bones.

He realized that someone had hold of his arm and was trying to
drag him to a standing position.

"Come on, get up! I'm not going to carry you and we need to get
out of here. Too many people know about this place. I have
something better in mind for you, Love. Somewhere nice and
private, so we can spend a long time getting to know each other
better. I know that's just what you want, Pretty Boy, I'm going
to give you what exactly what you want. . . every day."

When Mulder was unsteadily on his feet, Krycek pulled the ratty
old pants back on him, caring little about the pain caused by his
rough treatment. He threaded a section of rope through the loops
on the pants and tied it off leaving a long piece hanging from
Mulder's waist. When he was satisfied with his work, he picked up
the end of the rope and pulled his captive to stagger behind him
and out of the cabin.

The sharp sticks and stones of the forest floor cut into Mulder's
feet making him feel slightly lightheaded from exhaustion and the
added pain. All of a sudden, he became aware that the forest
floor was rushing up to meet his face. He had collapsed, face
first, hitting his head on a protruding root.

"Get up!" Krycek prodded him with the toe of his boot, "I said
get up, you piece of Yankee Shit. Come on, move." He applied a
vicious kick to the downed man's ribs. Mulder moaned and managed
to drag himself up onto his hands and knees, swaying
precariously. Krycek reached down to drag the man to his feet,
when he heard the sound of voices off to his right. He hunkered
down by Mulder trying to see through the gathering darkness.

"Shit! Can't I get a break with this? Come on Yankee Boy, we have
to move or that rope you're wearing will be around that pretty
neck of yours." Krycek had said the magic words and to his
surprise, Mulder surged to his feet and started off with new
found strength. He was going in the wrong direction, right toward
the lynch party, but at least he was moving. Alex jerked on his
rope and took off in the opposite direction with Mulder stumbling
along behind him.

"Over here, Mr. Krycek's got him!"

"Shit!" Alex looked around frantically but saw no way to escape
with his prize. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

He felt Mulder pulling frantically at the robe that bound him to
Krycek. Alex could see he was terrified of the mob catching up
with him. Alex looked into frightened hazel eyes and smiled
evilly. "Sorry, Pretty Boy. Looks like the end of the line . . .
or maybe I should say rope, for you."

Mulder tugged at the rope, desperate with panic. He could hear
Krycek chuckling to himself. "Over here boys, where have you all
been. I've been looking for you for over an hour."

Mulder gave the rope another frantic tug, just as Krycek let go,
sending the agent to the forest floor with a bone jarring crash.
Then the mob was on him. Several vicious kicks to his back left
Mulder fighting to take in a good breath as he was dragged to an
upright position, hanging between two men.

"Hold him just like that." A fist landed in his mid section
followed closely by one to his jaw. Either of the punches would
have brought him to his knees had it not been for the all too
helping hands of the men holding him in position.

"Don't kill him, Jud. He needs to know when we hang him, right
and proper."

One more punch and Mulder hung limply, blood dripping on the
ground in front of him. "Jamison's barn is just around the bend,
lets hang him there. I gotta' get home to the missus some time
tonight.

" A semi conscious Mulder was dragged a short distance and tied,
arms above his head to a beam extending above the door of the
sturdy red barn. He toes barely scraped the ground. He had to
fight for balance and to relieve the terrible pull on his arms
and shoulders.

"This is for all your murdering Yankee brothers, Boy." And a whip
lashed across his shoulders. The air hissed from Mulder's cut
lips as the evil leather landed again slightly lower.

After the first six lashes, Mulder was screaming. What difference
did it make? These people wouldn't think he was brave for
suffering in silence, they would just hurt him more for it.

He was never going to see Dana again. That made his heart ache.
But she would find someone new. Dana was a beautiful woman. And
Walter would be furious with his neighbors but he supposed he
would get over it eventually. Walter was a good man, his
neighbors would appreciate that in the troubled times that were
ahead for them.

A little weasel of a man, with foul-smelling breath, suddenly
appeared in Mulder's line of sight. Even in his weakened
condition, Mulder flinched at the sight of the knife the man
carried.

Oh, please God no. Don't let them do that to me. Don't let Walter
have to find me like that.

The man grinned at him, knowing what he was thinking. "I don't do
that to no man, Yankee or no." And he slowly pushed the knife
into Mulder's side. It slipped easily between his ribs, going in
only about an inch and a half before it stopped. As Mulder
screamed and gasped for air, he could feel the hot gush of blood
running down over his stomach and soaking his pants.

Meanwhile, Walter Skinner was frantic. Mulder had not been at the
cabin when Walter had finally located it but there had been more
blood. Now he was aimlessly wondering the deep woods without much
hope of finding his lost agent.

He froze, holding his breath. There, he had heard it again. Off
in the distance, the sound of shouting men and someone screaming
in pain. Mulder! He raced in the direction of the sound, his
powerful legs pumping as he ate up ground in the blackened
forest.

The sight he came upon was something from his worst nightmare.
Mulder handing listlessly from a bean while a man was using some
kind of whip on his heavily welted and bleeding back.

Walter ran into the clearing. "No, stop this . . . now!" To his
surprise, his arms were grabbed and twisted painfully behind his
back. He let out a roar of anger and panic but the three men
holding him were too much for even his strength.

"The Yankee Boy a friend of yours, Skinner?" Krycek smirked at
him. Walter opened his mouth but Mulder raised his bruised and
bloody face to look directly at Walter.

"No! He's just some . . . dumb Reb . . . that . . . that I
tricked into help . . . helping me. Pl . . . played the fool."

"I think he's ready for a few more licks o' that buggy whip,
Sam." And the merciless beating resumed. After another six or so
agonizing strokes, the Weasel was back and pushed the knife in
another inch bringing forth fresh screams and a fresh flow of
bright red blood. More strokes of the buggy whip followed.

Walter fought his captors, finally reduced to frantically begging
them not to hurt Mulder anymore. But everyone ignored him as if
he weren't even there. He felt terror rise another level in his
chest. If he didn't do something quickly, Mulder was going to die
here.

As the beating stopped and the knife welding man stepped up to
Mulder, the agent turned his head and looked directly at his
boss. What Walter saw in his eyes caused his heart to skip a
beat. Mulder was saying goodbye.

As the man began to push the knife in further, Mulder planted his
toes in the dirt below him and threw himself forward, imbedding
the blade further into his chest, almost to the hilt. The man
yelled and quickly let go of the knife.

"No-o-o-o-o!" Walter almost sobbed from his helpless position.

"No, you don't, Boy. You kain't die yet, you got a hangin' to
attend." The man pulled the knife out of the agent's body. Mulder
didn't even scream as he went completely limp, hanging from the
ropes that held him upright.

"Gol Darn it, Luther. You knowed we wanted him alive for the
hangin'. You are always gettin' carried away with that blasted
knife of yourn."

Luther had the good graces to look sheepish as he wiped the
blood-covered blade on his pants. "Sorry."

"Now what are we gonna' do. He kain't even sit a horse like
that."

"Here, I got an idear!"

********

The group of blood thirsty men surrounded two men on horseback.
The rider was a tall, thin man with a heavy black beard but the
man sitting behind him had all of Walter's attention. Mulder.

Mulder was blessedly unconscious, laying heavily against the back
of the scraggly rider, hands tied behind him. There was a thick
rope around his neck that was now thrown over the same large
beam.

Just as Walter started to plead with the men to stop, the rider
kicked the horse in the sides and rode away leaving Mulder
dangling at the end of the rope.

"No-o-o-o-o-o!" The arms holding him fell away and Walter Skinner
made short work of the distance separating him from his agent. He
grabbed Mulder around his thighs and pushed up, desperately
trying to eliminate the strain on his throat. Skinner could feel
hot tears running down his face. "Not this, oh please God, not
this. Don't let him die like this."

Then he felt Mulder drop heavily over his shoulder, as if the
rope had been cut by some unseen force.

Skinner looked around frantically. He had to get help. He had to
make sure Mulder was still breathing. He had to . . .

"If you don't stop carrying him like that every time he doesn't
move fast enough to suit, you are going to seriously injure your
back."

"Wh . . . what?"

Dana Scully, in a pristine navy blue suit and obligatory FBI
issued trench-coat, stood a few feet away from him.

"Dana! Oh, Dana. He's hurt. He's hurt badly. I couldn't save him.
I wanted to . . . I tried . . . but they just kept going after
him and now . . . now . . . " He felt something tapping him on
his left shoulder.

"Hey Walter, could you put me down now? You really need to work
on those control issues, Big Guy."

"Mulder?" Skinner turned to look behind him. He was met by a
welcome pair of hazel eyes peering around at him from about his
waistline.

"Yeah. Who were you expecting? You don't use this illustrious
<you go where I say or else> carry on all your agents do you?"

Skinner set Mulder on his feet and instantly grabbed his
shoulders, pulling him forward and hugging him fiercely. "Are
you...are you all right?" He felt the tears close to the surface
again and choked them back.

Mulder struggled for breath in this bear hug he was receiving,
"Well yeah, I was before you broke all my ribs here. How did you
know to follow me? I don't remember telling you about the tip I
got."

Skinner took a moment to look around. They were back at the
dilapidated old barn where this nightmare had all begun. The bean
suspended over the double door still looked sturdy and ominous.
He pulled his errant agent away from his chest and looked him in
the eyes, "Tip? You came out here on a tip? You . . . you ditched
me!?!"

Mulder suddenly looked leery, "Well, I wouldn't exactly call it
ditch, Sir. That's a very harsh term. I think it would be more
like a.. . . "

Skinner started shaking his wonderfully un-whipped, un-hanged,
un-dead Mulder. "You are making me old before my time! When I get
you home, I am going to . . . "

Mulder froze. Literally. One minute Skinner was shaking him until
he could hear his teeth rattling and the next the agent was
immovable. Skinner glanced over at Scully, who also stood like a
beautiful statue. What the hell?

"Happy April Fool's Day, Mr. Skinner! You know, you really should
stop doing that. You are going to hurt my Sugar Boy. I just don't
understand you. You begged for me to help return him to you and
now you are trying commit death by shaking. Really, Mr. Skinner!"

Skinner dropped his hands. Now the scene was almost comical.
Mulder stood on tip toe, shoulders scrunched together, eyes
tightly closed, head thrown back and fingers clawed as if
grasping at thin air.

"Vince, shouldn't you let him relax or something?"

"He'll be fine, Mr. Skinner. It's you that I want to apologize
to. I usually don't have such violent fantasies but I was just so
angry at my sweet little Sugar Boy," Vince didn't see the cringe
that his endearing term for Mulder earned from Skinner, "And well
. . . I'm afraid you paid the price. I just can't let him
remember any of that. It would be just too frightening for him."

"It . . . it was real?" Walter Skinner suddenly looked a little
pale.

"As real as the ground you now stand on, Mr. Skinner. Usually
when I involve Fox in my little fantasies, and I always involve
Fox, I let him experience all the pain. A few smacks to his
backside always increases his libido, don't you think?"

Skinner could only stare at the vampire.

"Well anyway, this time, I went too far. After all, I am a little
new at this and Giorgio tried to warn me to calm down first. So,
anyway, I am going to make my darling Fox forget all of it. Every
last minute. Which means he will think that he really did ditch
you, so you are free to give him a good thrashing when you get
home. And of course, you and Agent Scully will have to comfort
him later, so he knows you still love him. He is so insecure you
know. Good bye, Mr. Skinner. It has been a pleasure dealing with
you."

"How did you know that I would choose to take Mulder with me and
not Scully?"

"That was easy, Mr. Skinner. Mulder was hurt and in considerable
danger. Agent Scully was not only uninjured but seemed to be well
protected, as well. What your decision would be was no great
mystery. Besides, I would never tell the lovely Dana, but you do
have a rather large soft spot for Fox. Besides, Agent Scully was
never really here. She just got back from London earlier today. I
helped her find this location myself."

"But . . . but . . . but . . ."

"Mr. Skinner, save the dirty talk for Fox. He likes it so much.
Well, it's been nice doing business with you. Call on me
anytime." And the vampire vanished before Assistant Director
Skinner's astonished eyes.

Mulder fell into Skinner's arms as Dana Scully looked on with a
thin lipped, no nonsense expression on her face. "Mulder, I'm not
clear on just why you felt it was necessary to ditch Walter the
minute my back was turned?"

Mulder flinched as he saw Vince standing over Walter's shoulder,
smirking at him. "Tell her you enjoy the thrill of ditching your
boss."

"It's you I'd like to ditch . . . permanently."

Dana Scully turned an unhealthy shade of red, while Skinner gave
him another hard shake. "Don't talk to your partner like that,
she was worried about you." "You know, Sweet Boy, I think you
should .. . "

"I think you should mind your own business."

"Wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . you ungrateful Little Shit. I can't
believe that you are so self centered that you can't see that we
are only trying to keep you from killing yourself or . . . "

"Sweet Boy, I thought you looked to me for protection."

"I'd be crazy to depend on you. I doubt you could save yourself
from a mosquito bite."

"Wh . . . wh . . . wh . . . "

The next thing Mulder knew he was bent over an old split rail
fence, the rough wood digging into his bare thighs as Walter
tanned him with his leather belt.

Through his pleas for mercy, Mulder tried desperately to figure
out just what he had done that had made his boss so angry this
time.

The End 9

END 3/3