Big Deals (part 10 of 13)

by Mik

Mulder settled down into the jacuzzi with a deep sigh, unaware of just how much he was releasing as he closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the towels he had fashioned into a pillow behind him. The last seventy two - make it eighty hours had been hell. He didn't mean to let Skinner see how upset he was, but trust Skinner to come back to the world of the living when Mulder was half asleep, thrashing around in the wake of one of the worst nightmares he had had in years.

Let it go, Mulder, he chided himself, trying not to let tears of frustration and relief sting his eyes. Just let it go. Monty Shires is nothing more than a dim memory now. It doesn't matter what happened. Skinner knows I would never touch her, no matter how much she turned me on.

He let his arms float in the bubbling water, lazily, trying to make himself as limp as possible. The trouble was, sitting there quietly trying to let go, his mind was free to relive every painful minute: from that moment in Skinner's office, when he was in a panic trying to protect Skinner's feelings, and Skinner basically brushed him off; to that weird not-quite-a-fight in the park; to that horrifying moment when he turned, realizing dimly that something was wrong; the look of stark surprise mingled with terror in Skinner's eyes, the pain that twisted up his mouth, the way that redwood of a man sank to his knees like a felled sapling. And in the middle of the pain and terror (his and Mulder's), that fool bastard was trying to elicit a promise about something trivial … what was it? Oh, yeah, not to leave him. "As if I could," Mulder snorted aloud.

The rushing jets couldn't take away the misery of waiting helplessly for the ambulance, holding Skinner's head in his lap, Skinner's hands in his own. They couldn't erase that horrible ambulance ride, with the paramedics pounding on Skinner, shoving a tube down his throat, shouting frantic instructions to one another, oblivious to Mulder, huddled in a corner, stone faced, willing Skinner not to leave him. Thank God Scully was there with him to walk the floors while Skinner was in surgery. Thank God she was there to translate all the gobbledygook the surgeons came back with while Skinner was in recovery. And he did thank God, although no one knew it, no one ever would.

He sighed deeply, thinking about that odd sense of peace in the hospital chapel, on his knees in one of the pews. He didn't know how he got there, he was certain no one pointed out the way, but one moment there he was. The chapel was candlelit, warm, quiet, a good place for reflection and contemplation. His prayers, if they could be called that, were almost conciliatory in nature, but there was a profound sense of gratitude there as well. This God of Skinner's had really come through.

He couldn't say that for all the people involved in Skinner's recovery. He couldn't help being aware of many of the snide comments and the constant speculation about their relationship. Female staff flirted with him, and male staff either viewed him with open hostility and revulsion or a vague curiosity. He remembered...was it Thursday night? He was sitting at Skinner's bedside, his head cradled in his arms, trying to let go, to sleep. He could hear two night nurses, both male, discussing the patient in 4A.

"No wonder the poor old guy blew a valve. I hear he's married to that guy that's always sitting with him."

"The tall, dark haired guy that came in with him? Well, shit, have you seen him? I'd go gay for him."

Angrily, Mulder lifted his head and turned to stare coolly at them. Both men went silent and drifted apart, not to be seen in that part of the ward for the rest of the night.

Skinner did, however, recover. He would be on light duty for a few weeks, but he wouldn't be replaced as A.D. of his division for the interim, which meant Mulder wouldn't have to report to anyone else. He had been surprised in the extreme when Ashcroft showed up that first night, while Skinner was in Recovery. (Scully must have called him.) Mulder had been standing outside the Recovery door, arms wound tightly around his chest, waiting for the moment when he could go in, see for himself that Skinner hadn't died, when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, a gentle squeeze. "It will be all right, son. He's a hard man to take down."

Mulder turned, startled and a bit embarrassed by Ashcroft's comforting tone, and his words. But he wouldn't refuse the comfort. "I know," he said in a raspy whisper. "I just have to see it for myself."

Ashcroft nodded, understanding. "You would have been impressed this afternoon," he said softly, draping his arm over Mulder's shoulders and gently, but inexorably guiding him to a row of chairs in the waiting room. "He set that little siren up for a fall, and she fell right in."

"Yeah." Mulder coughed, slightly unnerved by the presence of his boss's boss. "I mean, yes, sir, he told me she recanted."

"But he didn't tell you how?" Ashcroft seemed surprised.

"Well," Mulder shrugged awkwardly, glancing again toward those uninviting doors. "There wasn't much of a chance."

"No, of course not." Ashcroft settled down beside him, patted his knee. "Shall I tell you?"

Mulder nodded, not really caring. At that moment, Monty Shires didn't even exist anymore.

Ashcroft began, however, and did a pretty good imitation of Skinner's reserved regret. If Mulder hadn't been so completely demoralized he might have actually laughed once or twice. At the end of the story, Mulder had to see he had been angry for nothing. He really did have no reason to forgive Skinner, and he had to remember to tell him that. He glanced anxiously at the Recovery Room doors again. If he got the chance...

His cell phone chirped. He lifted his head. The light had changed. Had he fallen asleep? The phone chirped again, and he reached out for it, where it sat on top of his jeans. "Mulder."

"Where are you?"

Mulder suppressed a grin. "Where do you think I am?"

"I know you're not here." He was crabby. That was a good sign. Mulder finally felt the release of tension he'd been seeking.

"You sent me home, remember?"

"I hear bubbles in the background. You're in the jacuzzi, aren't you? I hope you're alone."

"Just me and Mr. Bubble," Mulder said, reaching out to turn off the jets, and let the water settle down. "How are you?"

"Lonely."

Mulder feigned exasperation. "Make up your mind, A.D. Skinner. Did you want me to get some sleep, and think about something else, or did you want me there, annoying you?"

Skinner was moving around. There was a restless sound, and slight hitch in his voice caused by unexpected pain. "Right now, I could use some serious annoyance."

"'Kay." Mulder sat up again and released the plug to let the tub drain. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Kit, how are you?"

"Shouldn't I be asking that question?" Mulder stood, shaking himself a little to start the drying process.

"No. We all know how I'm doing, we've had a hundred expert opinions," Skinner said in dark amusement. "No one's bothered to check on you. The nurses told me you hadn't left my room since they moved me out of Intensive Care Thursday morning."

"I'm fine," Mulder promised, using his free hand to pull himself up the steps and over the rim of the tub.

"Ashcroft said you were pretty inconsolable Wednesday night."

"His words," Mulder retorted. He fumbled for a towel and the phone slipped. He scrambled for it.

"What's going on?"

"I'm trying to dry off, and I nearly dropped the phone," Mulder grunted.

"You're naked?"

"Down, boy," Mulder warned.

"We need to discuss that," Skinner said, on a sigh.

"Oh?" A little shiver of fear went through him. Did the doctor say sex was out of the picture? As uncomfortable as he was with certain aspects of his sex life, it was the only sex life he had - that he wanted. "Sure."

"We'll discuss it with the doctor, when you get here," Skinner said, trying to sound reassuring.

"Do we have to?" Mulder's innate dislike for sharing intimate information with strangers was making him a little queasy.

"Yes, I think so." Skinner didn't seem to think this would be uncomfortable. "We want to know what our limits are, don't we?"

Mulder sighed, aggrieved. "I suppose so."

"How are you, really?"

"Stop asking me that." Mulder's tone was a snap.

"Then answer me." Skinner's tone was a match.

Mulder spoke through clenched teeth. "I'm fine. I came home, ate -" this was a lie, "- took a little nap."

"All that in two hours?"

"It was a little nap." Mulder was feeling free to be snappish, Skinner must be feeling better.

"You sound exhausted."

"I'm no - ot," he sang, irritated.

Skinner chuckled. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You're so cute when you're pissed."

"You're the only one who can bring out that particular quality in me," Mulder pointed out.

"I miss you."

Mulder felt himself melting. "I hope no one is listening to this."

"I don't care," Skinner said honestly. "I just had the scare of my life, and I want you near me. If that makes me sappy, so be it. A woman would understand," he added tauntingly.

"I'll get you one," Mulder offered.

"I don't want a woman. I want you."

"Let me get dressed, will you? I just got out of the tub, and I'm freezing my balls off."

"There's a picture for me."

"I'll be there in a few." Mulder folded his phone, and dropped it on the pile of clothes, but he was smiling to himself. He couldn't help it.

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

Mulder made a face at the tray set before Skinner. "Is this our diet for the rest of our lives?" he complained.

"Are we planning to live in a hospital?" Skinner returned, taking a tentative spoon of the broth.

"I sometimes feel like I do," Mulder admitted. He bit back his next remark, because it was evident that Skinner was not enjoying what was in his mouth. He leaned forward and whispered, "I could always sneak in some contraband french fries."

"No, thank you." Skinner sounded as tight and stern as ever. These were doctor's orders, and by God, Skinner knew how to follow orders. "What did you eat?"

Mulder shook his head. "You don't want to know."

Skinner's eyes darkened. "The only reason I wouldn't want to know is because, in truth, you didn't eat."

Mulder smiled ruefully. "You don't want to know."

Skinner put down his spoon. "So, why is it I'm the one who had the heart attack?"

"You didn't," Mulder answered. "You had a myocardial infarction, brought on by untreated hypertension." His expression darkened. "Why didn't you tell me you had been diagnosed with high blood pressure?"

"I didn't have it until I got involved with a man with more moods than a PMS-ing schizophrenic," Skinner answered easily.

Mulder heard the laughter in Skinner's voice, but he heard something else as well, an underlying ring of truth. He felt his smile fade, let his gaze fall to the floor.

"You'd better not be assuming guilt for this," Skinner growled suddenly.

"I'm not," Mulder said. But it was true. Skinner's life was stressful enough before they got involved. He had seen and done a lot that Mulder didn't even want to know about. He had lost his wife to his own inability to communicate, and no amount of talking now was going to bring her back. He was in a high pressure, high profile job, and he was responsible for the single biggest problem in the entire Bureau roster. And then he went and married the guy!

"I recognize that look, Kit," Skinner said, reaching out for Mulder's hand. "You didn't do this to me. I did it to myself. I was told four years ago I needed to cut a little stress out of my life and instead I piled it on. I eat way too much red meat, and I refused to take the Atenolol they prescribed for me. I was asking for this long before you came into the picture."

"I just brought it all into focus," Mulder complained.

"Kitsune -"

The argument ended before it could begin. Sharon had peered around the door. "I see you're up to visitors now." Arms full of flowers, she swept in, and pressed a kiss to Mulder's cheek. "How you doing, Sweetie?" Then she bent and kissed the top of Skinner's head. "You shouldn't do this to those who love you, Walter. It's cruel. Good God, Walter, is that your lunch?" She handed the roses to Mulder. "Put these someplace, will you, Sweetie?"

Mulder felt as if he was being dismissed, and he resented it, but he was grateful for the distraction before he started another fight. He found a place on the shelf by the window and came back to the bed, to hear her murmur softly to Skinner, "How are you doing, honey?"

"Fine. It was more frightening than it was dangerous," Skinner said, using that soft, soothing tone he always used with Sharon. Mulder wondered if he'd ever raised his voice to her. He reached out to Mulder, drawing him back into the conversation. "Kit, here, had a rougher time than I did. I hear they had me pretty doped up for a while."

"And he was a rock, Walt, I'm telling you." Sharon slid an arm around Mulder's waist. "Wouldn't leave your side for anything. You've got a real prince here, so don't screw this one up, okay?" She gave Mulder a little squeeze, and he wondered if she wasn't just sizing him to see how he'd do on market day.

Mulder swallowed. "He's not the problem, Sharon. I'm the loose cannon in this marriage."

"You see?" Sharon turned to Skinner even as she squeezed Mulder again. "He even defends you in all the right places." She looked up at Mulder and sighed. "Oh, why couldn't you be ten years older? I'd steal you from him, myself." She smiled, but there was a wolfishness in her smile that even Skinner could see from his pillow.

"Sharon, hands off. He's mine."

"Well, you were mine, so it's all in the family, isn't it?" She smiled again, sweetly, good-naturedly. "Isn't it, Sweetie?" she asked Mulder.

"Don't get me in the middle of this," Mulder protested with a forced laugh. "That's the last place I want to be."

"Oh, but, Sweetie," Sharon purred, "I think that's right where you belong."

Mulder stiffened and sent a wild-eyed look to Skinner. Skinner's eyes narrowed slightly, but that was the only indication that he might be upset. "Sharon," he said quietly, "you're making him uncomfortable. Let him go. He might misunderstand and think you're serious."

She leaned up, as if she was going to kiss Mulder's cheek, but she whispered, so softly, "I am." Then she released him, patted Skinner's head and sailed out on the same breeze that brought her in.

Mulder settled down on the edge of the bed shakily. "She wants us to..." He flicked a look at Skinner, and for a moment, thought Skinner was actually contemplating a little family reunion, then he realized Skinner was just working to keep his anger in check. He kept silent.

"The doctor says I can get out of here tomorrow."

Mulder turned around to look at him, ready to argue the point. "So soon?"

"Miracle of modern medicine," Skinner said, with an easy shrug.

"More like miracle of modern insurance," Mulder answered darkly. Then he smiled. "I talked to your mom this morning. I have permission to take you to Katonah, if you feel up to it."

"You told my mom?" Skinner looked panicked.

"It's all right. I didn't tell her exactly what happened," Mulder soothed. "I told her you had an episode of hypertension and needed a few days' rest. She said Chris offered us the lodge. What do you think? Would you like that?"

Skinner settled back in the pillows, the dismal meal forgotten. "I love Katonah in the early fall. The leaves … let's see, you've been there in the spring and the winter. You need to see it in the fall."

"Kat, I grew up in Massachusetts, I know about New England fall foliage," Mulder protested.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Skinner promised. "Do you want to go tomorrow?"

Mulder nodded. "If you're up to it. I've already told Ashcroft I was taking a couple of days with you, when you got out. Scully's got everything under control. By the way, we got a new intern, Wesley Holt, and Scully's making little blue goo-goo eyes at him. I think I'm jealous."

"Of him or of her?" Skinner teased.

"Both," Mulder retorted.

Skinner reached out, and ran his hand possessively across Mulder's arm. "Kitsune, you are a constant surprise and delight to me."

Mulder looked at him doubtfully. "What kind of medication are you on today, Kat? Are you still seeing elephants?"

Skinner looked at him, bewildered. "What elephants?"

Mulder laughed out loud. "I don't know. When you came out of Recovery, you kept asking me if I'd seen the elephant. You were certain there had been an elephant, and that I had seen it."

Skinner's expression was one of wounded irritation. "I will tolerate a lot of things, Mulder, but I will not have you impugning my reputation by accusing me of seeing pink elephants."

Mulder put up his hands in defense. "I didn't say they were pink. In fact, you didn't say they were pink. You didn't even say 'they'. You were talking about one, singular elephant, and you gave every indication that it was the normal, gray type. But you were certain it existed."

"Sounds like an X-File, Mulder."

"I'll start the investigation as soon as we get back from Katonah. Do you know when the doctors are going to release you?"

"Tomorrow is all they said." Skinner reached out again, and this time touched Mulder's face. "You know I love you, don't you?"

Mulder was surprised. He shouldn't be. He was a psychologist. He knew that a renewed appreciation for all aspects of life was normal after a near death experience. But Mulder had always assumed Skinner was not normal, or rather he was hyper-normal, and the mereness, the everydayness of other people's lives just wouldn't mar his. "Yeah," he said with effort. "I know." He made himself reach up to cover Skinner's caress with his own. He made himself say it. "And you know I love you, too, don't you?"

Skinner's chest rose and fell with a contented sigh, the only indication of how much those words meant to him.

"I talked to Ashcroft," Mulder said, remembering his vow while Skinner was in Recovery. "He told me how you set up Monty Shires. I was right. I had no reason to be angry with you. It was obvious that you knew I hadn't done anything wrong. I have nothing to forgive, so I take it back."

"I should have let you speak your piece," Skinner said, shaking his head.

"A.D. Skinner, this conversation is closed." Mulder's mouth quirked in a smile. "There's an interesting gleam in a lot of people's eyes when they have seen me the past few days, a sort of renewed respect among some of the guys, a little speculative hunger in some of the women. Would that have anything to do with the fact that no one tried to squelch her rantings?"

Skinner smiled mysteriously. "Another X-File, Agent Mulder."

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

"Damn."

Skinner turned from his mental meandering and looked at Mulder. He was frowning. "What is it?" He followed Mulder's gaze as he swung the car up around the curve.

"Isn't that Kyle's car?" Mulder complained. "Did he drive up here from Atlanta, because they -" He cut himself off because the door opened and Mrs. O'Hara was coming out onto the leaf strewn drive, working her aluminum walking frame like a mini-motocross. "They all came up," he groaned softly. "So much for our quiet retreat."

"Don't worry, Kit, this will be good for us." But for a moment, Skinner's sense of good will was dampened. He needed time with Mulder, just the two of them, hanging on for dear life, and he didn't want to have to fight his stepbrother for Mulder.

Skinner had always liked his stepbrother. Kyle was basically a big dumb puppy with a heart as big as all outdoors. He was a salesman, like his father, and good at it too. He made good money selling his fast little European cars, and one of Skinner's greatest fears since Mulder got his first advance was that Kyle might talk him into buying one. Mulder loved the visceral experience too much. A low end, gutless Ford was definitely the safest vehicle for him. It even made Skinner nervous to have Mulder behind the wheel of the Lexus today, just coming down to Katonah.

Of course, Skinner had other fears about Kyle. From the moment he had introduced Mulder to his family, making the difficult confession that, at this point in his life, the only person who could touch his heart was another man, Kyle had focused those watery blue eyes of his on Mulder, and to this day, kept him in sight whenever Mulder and Kyle shared the same zip code. Skinner was sure that it was Kyle's idea that Mom and Chris come up from Atlanta to see them. He could almost see Kyle salivating in anticipation as Mulder unfolded himself from behind the wheel and climbed out, accepting his mom's embrace.

Skinner remembered Mulder's agitation when Skinner finally came back from the hospital when his mom broke her hip. Mulder had come home on a red-eye from Los Angeles, and turned around and got on a plane so that Skinner wouldn't have to go down to his mom's alone. At the hospital, he was literally ready to drop and Skinner had asked Kyle to take Mulder back to the house, let him get some rest. Mulder never did go into details, but just the general atmosphere when Skinner came back from the hospital indicated that Mulder had been afraid to get prone with Kyle around. Skinner wondered briefly, as Kyle took Mulder into an unrequested bear hug that literally lifted the taller man off his feet, if he ought to have a discussion with his mom, or Chris, or if he should just take Kyle for a little 'walk' and discuss things with him.

Chris came around to throw his arms around Skinner. "Damn, boy, you look good for a man who just got back up from the grave. Are you sure you had a heart attack?"

Mulder, shrugging himself away from Kyle, interrupted quickly. "It wasn't a heart attack. It was -"

"Oh, hell, Fox, I know what a heart attack is," Chris said, thumping Mulder's back good-naturedly. "You don't need to pretty it up with those pansy assed expressions of yours."

Mulder's full lips pulled into a tight line and he flinched a little from Chris' hand and his words. "Yes, sir," he murmured. He looked back to Skinner's mom. "How are you doing, Mrs. O'Hara?"

"I'm fine, son." She put a hand on Mulder's cheek. "You look tired. Are you all right?"

"He's exhausted, but he's too macho to admit it," Skinner said, forcing a laugh. "He hasn't slept since this happened."

"Well, we've got the big room all ready for you," his mom said, her eyes going over Mulder's face. "Maybe, after such a long drive, you should lay down for a while?"

Skinner looked at Mulder hopefully. That was the other reason he had agreed to this trip. He wanted Mulder to rest. Even Dana said he was basically wiped out. But Mulder was shaking his head, smiling. "And miss your cooking, Mom? Not a chance." Skinner felt a little tightness in his chest, but this was not dangerous, unless a man could die of happiness. Mulder called her Mom.

His mom reacted with the same degree of happiness. "Well, then, you just come right in. I'm taking a roast out of the oven, this minute. Kyle, honey, get the boys' luggage, will you?" She reached up, with just a hint of her joy watering her eyes. "Let me take your arm, Son. I don't do well with this walker, on this rough ground."

Mulder obediently offered his left hand, while taking the frame and folding it up against his body with his right. Skinner followed along behind, murmuring banalities with his stepdad. Inside, the lodge was filled with the warmth and scent of another festive family meal. Skinner watched Mulder sniff the air approvingly. Even if Chris scared him a little, Skinner knew that Mulder liked his mom, and wanted her good approval. Mulder also liked the family traditions that the Skinner-O'Hara's shared, and he was grateful to be included, which was probably why he never took steps to rebuff Kyle, or stand up to Chris.

 "I'll bet you boys are hungry," his mom concluded as Mulder tried to take her into the living room. "Kyle, honey, take those up to the big room. You boys come into the dining room. We can eat right now."

Mulder brought her to the kitchen dutifully. "Can I help with something, Mom?" he offered.

"No, honey, you go right in and sit down. You look ready to drop. Now, don't worry about me. I'm a little stiff, but I've been resting well. You go sit down, look after Walt."

Mulder turned, found Skinner in the doorway, watching him. "I'm not sure who's watching whom," he said with a mock frown. He met Skinner's eyes and there was an odd little gleam in them. Skinner wondered if they were sharing the same memory; the first time they came to the lodge alone. It was in this kitchen that they came to the conclusion that they had fallen through the looking glass, and they were choosing to stay there. Skinner remembered every sensation of kissing Mulder almost exactly where Mulder now stood. It was the first time he had kissed him as a lover, the first time Mulder really kissed him back. He had to look away, or he knew he'd tear up.

Skinner was grateful that the table talk didn't center around his health problems. Almost from the moment their heads raised from saying grace, his mother wanted to talk about the baby. "Do you know what you're having yet?" she asked, pressing mashed potatoes on Mulder.

"No, Scully - that is," Mulder had to pause to swallow the mouthful of peas and carrots. "The baby's mother doesn't want to know."

"Who is this girl, the baby's mother, anyway?" Chris demanded. "Do we get to meet her?"

"Oh, certainly," Skinner promised. "You'd approve of her, Chris," he added. "Everything you'd want in a daughter-in-law. She's a good Catholic girl, a doctor, daughter of a career Navy man, just like you."

"How did she get hooked up with you two?" Kyle asked, his eyes wide with amazement that they would know such a nice girl.

Mulder looked at Skinner. "She's...um...my partner."

Kyle let out an adolescent little titter. "Gee, Walt, you're more civilized about this than I would have thought."

Skinner shot his stepfather a look, waiting for censure, then realized that his mother and stepfather wanted an explanation, too. When they received the news, they were so excited about the prospect of being grandparents, that details weren't important. But now that they had time to adjust to the good news, they wanted, needed an explanation. Skinner looked to Mulder and nodded.

Mulder wiped at his mouth with the napkin and put it down, drawing a breath. "My partner was ab -" He stopped because Skinner was pinching his thigh. Too much information, Mulder. "As a result of some medical … testing, my partner discovered she couldn't have children. That didn't mean she didn't want one. She found out she was a good candidate for in vitro fertilization, and asked me if I would be the father." He sent a sidelong glance at Skinner, seeking further approval. "She felt that K - Walter and I could be depended on to provide a good, stable family life for the baby." His eyes went back to Skinner's mom. "As far as Scully and the baby are concerned, the only difference between Walt and me is that I provided the genetic material."

"Well, I think that's wonderful," she said, and sounded as if she really believed it. "I think it is a sensible, humane solution for everyone." She looked at her son. "I'm proud of you, Walter. And you, too, Fox."

Skinner looked at Mulder. He seemed flushed with triumph. Skinner's mom was proud of him.

"When is it due?" Chris asked.

"November," Skinner said. "Around Thanksgiving."

"Have you decided on names?" his mom asked.

Mulder nodded. "Daniel if it's a boy, and..." He started to laugh - a real, honest laugh. Chris and Kyle and his mother wouldn't understand why Skinner was looking at Mulder in amazement and delight. They couldn't know how rare a genuine laugh was coming from Mulder. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "I just realized what we were about to do. I wanted to name a girl Scarlet, and I just realized why." He turned to Skinner, helpless laughter still bubbling up in him. "I'm sorry, I must be tired. I think I'm hysterical," he said softly.

Skinner put a hand on his shoulder, barely containing his own laughter. "It's all right. It's wonderful, as a matter of fact." He knew his family was completely bewildered. He looked at his mother. "Scarlet. Don't you get it?" He looked at Chris. "As in O'Hara. He's trying to name the baby after my family."

Chris didn't get it right away, but Skinner's mom laughed, and after a moment, so did Kyle.

As usual, at the conclusion of the meal, Mulder got up to help Skinner's mom, but she wouldn't have any of it. She looked deeply into Mulder's exhausted eyes, noting the dark circles, the lack of light in them, and insisted that he go to bed early that night. "Don't make me call Walter in here," she warned, causing Skinner to turn back from the dining room door at the sound of his name.

"Don't make you call Walter for what?" he asked, following them into the kitchen.

"Walter, this boy is out on his feet, and he's trying to help me with dishes," she scolded. "Make him go to bed."

Skinner put an arm around Mulder's waist affectionately. "Go on to bed, sleepyhead," he said, chuckling. He couldn't help it, everything was just so pleasant at the moment. He had his lover and his family together. The trees were putting on a multicolored tableau for his benefit. His belly was full. He had a child on the way. And he was alive. "You get some sleep. I'll help Mom with the dishes. Go on." He released Mulder easily. "I'll be up later." He kissed Mulder's cheek. "Good night."

He watched Mulder stumble wearily up the back stairs. He saw his mother was watching too, and he remembered something he had been meaning to say for some time. "Mom, stop calling him a boy," he said gently. "He's almost forty years old." He took plates from her hands and carried them to the sink.

"I know, but to me, that's just a boy." She put a hand up to touch Skinner's cheek. "You're just a boy."

"A boy who had a myocardial infarction a week ago," Skinner said dryly.

"You lived, you're fine." Skinner's mom was very pragmatic. It was probably where he got it. Her eyes darted upward. "I worry about him. There's a part of him that is still a little, lost child."

Skinner nodded, going for another stack of dishes. "They say part of his psyche froze when he lost his sister," he explained softly, returning and carrying the dishes back to the sink. He didn't need to add that it was one of the facets that made Mulder a jewel to his heart and soul. "He's a psychologist, he knows exactly what his problem is, but he won't let it go. It's like it's his family legacy, all he has to show that he grew up with someone, that he had a family. It doesn't seem to affect his work, though," Skinner added almost defensively. "He's brilliant, and hard working and dedicated -"

His mother laughed and chided him gently, "Walter, you don't have to sell him to me. He makes you happy, that's all that matters. But I'll tell you this, even if he wasn't the person that makes you happy, he's someone I'd be proud to call my son."

Skinner felt his chest constrict with pleasure again, this time tinged with melancholy. "Oh, Mom, I wish his mother would say that."

They worked together in silence for a while, just like the old days, and Skinner was content, enjoying the feel of warm, sudsy water on his hands, liking the way the water made his wedding ring shine so bright. Despite Kyle's presence, it had been an extremely satisfying day.

He felt his mother go still behind him and he turned. She was looking up the stairs. "What is it, Mom?" Did Mulder cry out? Did she hear him in a nightmare, and he missed it?

She was pressing a thoughtful finger to her lips, her brow wrinkled up in a matching frown. "I can't remember if I left clean towels in that bathroom," she said.

Skinner relaxed. "I'll run up and check." He was cautious enough to take the stairs carefully, not overexert himself, but he found himself in a dark room. Feeling around for the light in the hall, he let the soft gold light spill into the bedroom. Mulder was face down in the bed, arms and legs spread out, as he so often slept when he had the bed to himself. He was still in jeans and chambray shirt, but he had taken time to take off his shoes. He was completely out. Smiling, Skinner pulled up an afghan from the foot of the bed, and spread it over him, then he ruffled the soft brown hair. He smiled again, thinking of how Sharon had described him. Good night, sweet prince.

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

Skinner put a finger in the book to mark his place and looked around. Chris was watching Monday Night Football. His mother was crocheting something that looked suspiciously like baby things. Mulder had been quiet all night, so he must have been completely exhausted. But something seemed incomplete. Where was Kyle? He felt a little shiver of concern go through him. Kyle wouldn't … not with Chris and Mom and me in the house. Kyle wouldn't dare. He started to pull himself up from his chair.

"What is it, dear?" His mom was starting to get up, too. "What do you need?"

"Nothing." He put the book on the table beside the chair. "I'm just going up to check on K - Fox."

Chris raised a brow at him, and pulled his lips together in a frown, clearly wanting to express an opinion.

Skinner barely refrained from scowling back. Instead he looked at his mother. "You know he has a sleep disorder," he explained, hoping Chris would listen too. "It isn't like him to sleep for so long. He rarely sleeps more than two or three hours at a time."

"Oh, poor thing," his mother said sympathetically. "Well, you know he hasn't slept much this past week."

"I'm sure that's it," Skinner conceded. "But I'll feel better when I check on him." He climbed the stairs, very softly, very slowly, coming up the back way so that his shadow wouldn't break the light in the hallway. He looked into the bedroom. From the moment he could focus on the bed, he knew something wasn't right. Mulder was curled up in a ball at the side of the bed, still asleep. Mulder only slept that way when he and Skinner were together. Skinner took a step into the room. The arm atop the afghan wasn't draped in denim. It was a red pullover. He turned and went back down the steps, his face as red as the sweatered arm he had seen draped around Mulder. The minute he reached the living room, his mom sensed something was wrong, and she was struggling to get up from the sofa. He put out a hand. "Sit, Mom." He wheeled to face Chris. "Do you know where your son is?"

Chris' panicked expression gave him away. "If that pansy assed little -"

Skinner lost what was left of his temper. He reached for Chris' shirt front and tugged. "Don't," he hissed. "Don't call him a pansy ass. That man has faced down things that would send you and me running away, screaming. He's faced them down and come away on his feet. He's one of the toughest, strongest, hardest headed men I've ever known." His voice got harder. "And if you're trying to imply that Kit did anything to encourage Kyle, I'll take you both out and shoot you, right now."

"Walter, please." His mother's hand was on his arm. "Chris knows better. He knows Fox hasn't done anything. Now, what happened? Has something happened?"

"I only know that I went up there and found Kyle in bed, asleep, with his arms around him." Skinner's voice was coming out in a machine gun rattle. "Regardless of what else might or might not have happened, that was totally inappropriate. And if you don't pull the reins on him, Chris, I'm going to."

"Walter." Everyone looked up. Mulder was standing in the back hall, sleep tousled, shoeless, wide eyed. "Can I speak to you a moment?" he requested urgently. "Please?"

"Kit, are you all right?" Skinner broke from his parents and took steps toward the hall.

"I need to speak to you, please?" he reiterated, his eyes going over Skinner's shoulder.

Skinner turned. His mom was coming, too. "Mom, please."

He pushed Mulder toward the kitchen, and through the back door. He was taking his anger out on Mulder, and it startled him. Realizing this, Skinner pulled him into his arms as soon as the door was shut. "What did he do?" he demanded roughly. "Did he do anything?"

Mulder struggled to free himself, to look up. "You know?"

"I saw him," Skinner said tightly.

Mulder's mouth worked, but no sound came out.

"Did he try anything?"

Mulder shook his head. "I don't think so," he managed at length. "I just woke up, and there he was."

"Did he say anything?"

Mulder shook his head again. "I don't even know if he was awake. I jumped out of bed so fast. I'm not even sure what woke me up. I had this impression of you in the room, and then I realized it wasn't you." He was shivering, part from the cold and part from the shock.

"Easy." Skinner wrapped his big arms around the shivering shoulders. "Do you want to go home?"

"I can't," Mulder said in an oddly choked voice. "If we leave, it will hurt your family. I can't do that to them, to you."

"Well, you can't let that little punk climb into bed with you whenever my back is turned, either," Skinner rasped.

Mulder's shoulders twitched in a shrug. "I guess I'll just have to stick next to you from now on."

"Damn straight," Skinner agreed. "I should have listened to you, Kit," he added, on a sigh. "You warned me a long time ago that he was going to be a problem. I had no idea he had those tendencies. He's been married twice. He has three kids."

Mulder just shrugged again.

Skinner's rage was overtaking him again. "Let's go back inside. You don't even have shoes on. You keep your mouth shut," he added harshly. "I'm going to do the talking."

Mulder stiffened. "I've told you before, you don't need to fight my battles, Daddy," he complained.

"I know, but this is our battle. And this is my family." His arms tightened. "Look, if you were my wife, I'd have the right to deck a brother-in-law who made a pass at you, wouldn't I?"

"Maybe, but this little woman knows how to do her own decking," Mulder returned, wriggling free. "Let me handle this, okay? I'm a psychologist, and I'm great with other people's problems. It's my own I'm not so good at." He pushed past Skinner. "My battle, my fist, okay?" Mulder opened the door and they went back inside.

Everyone was in the dining room. Chris looked like he had been in the middle of giving Kyle a verbal reaming the likes of which even Skinner would envy. Skinner's mom went to Mulder, her hands on his forearms, her eyes full of anxiety. "Are you all right, Son?"

Mulder surprised her by putting his arms around her, and hugging, gently. "I'm fine, Mom." He looked toward the end of the table. "Chris, can I speak to Kyle for a minute, please?" He waited a minute, and when Chris didn't respond, he added, a little more forcefully, "Please?"

Kyle undraped himself from his chair. It was clear he was more frightened about talking to Mulder than whatever his father was dishing out. Mulder waited until Kyle was even with him and then indicated that they were going back outside.

"Mulder, your shoes," Skinner started.

Mulder shrugged. "It will just be a minute."

The door closed behind them. Skinner looked at his parents. There were several long minutes of silence then a loud smacking sound and the cry of a wounded animal. They all started, and waited for the door to burst open, but it was several more minutes before Kyle came in, head hanging, hand pressed to his cheek. Mulder came in behind him. "He'll need ice for that," he predicted. He nodded at Skinner. "Good night."

Skinner went to Kyle and pried his hand away. There was a large, reddened area beneath his right eye. "You got more than you deserved," he said. Mulder had at least treated him like a man, had slugged instead of slapped. He nodded good night to his mother and stepfather and went up the back stairs. Mulder was sitting on the edge of the bed in the dark, looking down at his hands. "You okay?" he asked Mulder.

Mulder nodded. "I'm sorry I had to hit him, Kat. He wasn't paying attention to me."

"Oh, I think you got his attention." Skinner flipped on a light. "How are your knuckles?"

Mulder held up his left hand, unscathed. "I learned my lesson. Nothing broken."

Skinner sat down beside him, taking his hand, pressing it to his lips. "What happened?"

Mulder was quiet for a few minutes. "I think we were looking at this all wrong." He pulled his hand free, gently, and began to work the buttons on his shirt. "It wasn't me he was after. I was just a transference."

Skinner shot him a disbelieving look. "A what?"

"A transference. He's got a huge crush on you, big guy. Oh, it wasn't sexual," Mulder added hastily. "It was like … hero worship. You're everything he never was. I have a feeling Chris has really rubbed his nose in it, how the stepson was a Marine, works for the government, big tough guy. Kyle's a pansy assed salesman."

Skinner smiled at the words. "So, why was he in bed with you?"

"Because I belong to you." Mulder shed his jeans and folded them carefully. "You know that gray flannel work shirt of yours?"

Skinner frowned. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Ever notice how you can't find it when I'm out in the field?" Mulder glanced away, as if about to reveal something really embarrassing.

Skinner nodded. "I suppose. I never really thought about it, but, yeah, I guess so."

"I have it. I take it with me. Especially if you've been wearing it," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I sleep in it. It's like sleeping with your arms around me. It isn't you, but it's as close as I can get at that moment. Kyle doesn't think he could ever get close to you, so he gets close to me instead. I'm his flannel shirt."

Skinner was speechless, deeply moved and a little bit aroused. He could actually picture Mulder, drowning in that plaid flannel shirt and a pair of boxers, curling up around a pillow, and dreaming it was Skinner.

"Are you shocked?" Mulder said, smiling wryly. "Never thought I'd be sentimental, would you? I didn't even have a teddy bear when I was little. Who knew I'd marry a teddy bear. A giant, growling teddy bear." He sat down, and let his forehead fall against Skinner's shoulder. "Forgive him, Kat. He's your brother, he adores you. There won't be any more trouble."

"Of course not, he knows you can punch his lights out, now," Skinner agreed with a dumbfounded laugh.

"Oh, I barely tapped him." Mulder stood and shrugged his shirt off and moved toward the bathroom. "What got him was telling him that his behavior was hurting you. Kat, I made him cry when I told him that." He turned on the tap and splashed water on his face.

Skinner looked at him, hungrily. Long and lean, in dark blue boxers, bent over the sink, he made a very inviting picture.

Mulder looked over his shoulder, saw the expression on Skinner's face and frowned. "Kat, stop it. Number one, the doctor said you had to wait two weeks, and number two, your parents are in the house." He was working soap between his hands and he turned to scrub his face.

Skinner got up to rub his back. "There's no reason you can't -"

"No." Mulder splashed his face again thoroughly. "You said it yourself, the taking turns crap got old fast. I can wait." He reached blindly for a towel, found Skinner's chest and very deliberately dried himself on Skinner's sweater. "Where's my toothbrush?"

- END part 10 of 13 -
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