Big Deals (part 9 of 13)

by Mik

Mulder was aware of Monty's presence behind him, in the files. He couldn't help being aware of her. She was wearing something very soft, the faint promise of spring flowers, Elysian fields, and his nose was good, his imagination better. So far, with the exception of the odd moment, no one had left the two of them alone. If Scully wasn't in the office with them, then Skinner was using Monty as an errand service, or Kim was sending her to this or that conference. Not that Mulder was complaining. This girl was becoming a huge strain on his resolve.

And she knew it. He often caught her smiling at him, speculatively, as if she could see his emotional squirming. Her hair was so soft as it 'accidentally' brushed his cheek. Her voice was so sweet, as she asked just the right question to prove she had been hanging on his every word. Her body was firm and lithe, and he'd had his arms around her twice. Once, when she stumbled against him, coming through the bullpen doors and once, when up on a stepstool, searching for evidence files that had been tossed on a high shelf, she tumbled backwards just as Mulder came into the office. The first time she stayed in his arms a fraction of a second too long. The second time, he held her just longer than absolutely necessary. She was starting to invade his fantasies, which was not a good thing when he was sleeping with another man.

And now, she was kneeling at the files behind his desk, her sweet fragrance wafting up at him, warmed by her natural scent, offering herself so innocently to a man who, a year ago, would have asked her out without even thinking about age differences or Bureau policy. Mulder let his eyes stray slightly. He could see her bowed head, the roundness of one upraised knee, the hint of bare thighs beneath a wispy, flowery dress. He sighed restlessly and turned a page.

"Agent Mulder?"

God, even her voice seemed full of promise. He turned, allowed himself to look at her, kneeling on one knee, a sheaf of papers in her hands. "Yes, Monty?" he said, and wondered if his voice actually cracked.

"These don't seem to have anything to do with this file." She held the papers up only an inch or two, so that he had to bend, in his chair, to look at them. He had to rest a hand on her shoulder to steady himself.

"Check the cross references," he said, while he caught himself sniffing her hair. "You'll see that the witness reports are actually relative to this case, even though they were collected during another investigation."

She lifted her face, her mouth only inches from his. "Oh, that makes sense."

He could feel her warm breath on his lips when she spoke.

He made himself sit up straight. "You're the only one who thinks so," he told her with a little chuckle. Get a grip, Mulder, he warned himself. You're behaving like an adolescent. She's half your age. You're married. Scully would never forgive you for cheating on Skinner - or her. He turned back to his desk. He had a hard-on. Talk about adolescent!

She floated upward, to stand beside his chair, to turn, to lean against his desk, look down at him, her hair nearly brushing his shoulder. "Agent Mulder … may I call you Fox?"

He nodded jerkily. "Seems fair. I call you Monty." Please go away. Please stay. Skinner, damn you, why haven't you called, requesting something? Kim, schedule a meeting, please! "Is something on your mind?"

She nodded, her face a portrait of a damsel in distress. She tucked one tendril of hair behind her ear. "You're a man of the world. I need your advice about something." Her voice lowered to a soft whisper.

Honey, could you be more obvious? he thought, looking up to drown in her pale blue eyes. Mulder - Skinner's going to kill you! Think of it; death by bureaucracy. Think of Scully's disapproving expression. Think of Skinner's hurt one. Do you want to hurt anyone? "Sure, what about?"

"Well." She tucked her hair back again, glanced over her shoulder at the door. "I've been so wrapped up in my education, that I don't have much...experience with men." She had an enchanting little hint of color in her face.

"I know that feeling." Did I say that out loud?

"I know." She nodded. "I heard you were really smart and graduated ahead of other people your age, just like me. How did you handle it, the relationships, I mean? Wasn't it hard to learn after all that time?"

"I'm still learning, Monty." Go ahead, just put the bullets in the gun, yourself, Mulder.

"Well, then you understand what I mean. There's this guy." She shrugged faintly. "He's been after me to get married."

"Congratulations."

"No, I don't know if I want to marry him because I love him, or because I've taken time to recognize certain … yearnings."

Do I hear the safety going off? "A reasonable concern."

"So, I'm wondering if I shouldn't...experiment a little bit, and see how I really feel." She lowered her lashes innocently. She raised them again. "What do you think, Fox?"

The bullet is in the chamber. "Well, a lot of it depends on your personal beliefs about sex and marriage. What kind of experience have you had?"

"None."

"So you're..." Finger on the trigger.

"A virgin? Yes, I am."

Bang!!

"Fox? Agent Mulder?"

He focused again. He licked his lips nervously. "You're really asking the wrong guy." He held up his hand. "I'm married."

"To Agent Scully?" Did she look hurt, surprised, disbelieving, or unconcerned?

"No."

Now she looked bewildered. "But she's having your baby."

Mulder nodded and lowered his hand. "It was an in vitro fertilization. I just donated the...genetic material." If he had said sperm to her, he would have giggled.

"Well, how does your wife feel about that?"

Mulder drew in a deep breath. This was the deal breaker. "My partner knows and understands."

"Agent Scully is your partner."

"Yes. But I'm referring to my marital partner."

"What a funny way of saying it," she laughed. And then she looked confused again. "Almost as if you were saying..."

"That I'm married to a man," Mulder finished quietly.

Now she looked incredulous. "You? You're...gay?"

Mulder shrugged. "The best ones are."

She started to laugh. "I don't believe you. Oh, Fox. If you're not interested in giving me personal advice, just say so. You don't have to make up such ridiculous stories."

Mulder eased her aside and pulled a framed photo from his desk. He didn't leave it out, because someone kept sneaking in and defacing it when he did. "Here."

She looked at the photo. "This is...Assistant Director Skinner." She looked over the picture frame. "You're married to him?"

Mulder nodded and reached for the picture. "Sorry, I can't - oof."

She was in his lap, straddling him, her arms around his neck, kissing him, rubbing up against the vestiges of his desire, until he felt his body betray him and react. He reached up and unwound her arms. "Monty, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

She smiled down at him. "Trying to prove to you that you're not really gay, that you were seduced by power. It happens a lot. I know you like women." She rocked against his erection obscenely.

"I didn't say I didn't," Mulder gasped. If this girl was a virgin, then he secretly had the hots for Clive. "I just love Walter Skinner, and he's the one I'm married to."

"I could fix that," she offered.

"I don't want you to." He pushed at her. "Listen, what would you have done if I said I was married to Scully?"

"Nothing. That's marriage, that's sacred. This is..." She flicked a hand toward the photo on the desk behind him.

"That is also marriage," Mulder protested, feeling his anger starting to override the sensations of her body pressed against his. "Now, get off." He caught her arms again. "Get off, or I'll spank you."

"Really?" She wiggled against him. "You might like that."

Mulder lost what little patience he had left. He pushed his chair back, straightened his legs and let her slide off like a child at a playground. Then he stood up. "Excuse me." He stepped around her and went out the door. Outside the office he took a deep breath, ran his hands through his hair and hit the stairs. He was up on the fifth floor and in the anteroom in a matter of minutes. Kim shook her head. "He's in a meeting."

"Get him out here, now," Mulder panted. "Emergency."

"Is it Agent Scully?" Kim asked, reaching for the phone.

Mulder shook his head. "It's Monty. She's going to file a complaint against me. I want my side on record, first - at least with him. I don't care about the rest of it."

Kim hung up the phone. "What happened?"

"Are you going to call him?"

"No. But I'll depose you." She got up, shut the outer door, pulled the blinds and came back to her desk. "Go ahead."

Mulder shook his head. "I can't tell you what happened, Kim. It would sound too … egotistical. He'll understand. You wouldn't."

"Try me," she said.

"Okay." Mulder dragged up a chair, sat down, sighed, tried to start words and sighed again. "She came on to me. She started some drivel about needing advice and I was a man of the world, and you know the routine …" He looked up, hoping Kim had never tried that routine. "Anyway, I told her I was married. Then I told her who I was married to. She said she could 'fix' that. When I told her I wasn't interested in having it 'fixed', she jumped into my lap and started kissing me." He looked at her, miserably. "You see? It sounds crazy, sitting here explaining it to you."

Kim started to say something, but her phone rang. "Assistant Director Skinner's office. Yes? Oh, I see. Yes, I'll make sure he gets the message right away. Thank you." She scribbled something on a pink message pad and held it up to Mulder. It read: She wants to talk to him. "Yes, goodbye."

"You see?" Mulder repeated. He dragged his hands through his hair again. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

"Where was Agent Scully?"

"Quantico. Autopsy classes. I don't know how she can keep doing that while she's pregnant. I think it's going to have a negative impact on the baby." Mulder made a face. "I thought Monty was supposed to be in some conference this morning?"

"She said you requested that she stay and finish up the cataloging."

"If I wanted that, wouldn't I call and cancel the conference?" Mulder asked.

"You do, normally, yes," Kim agreed.

"Normally. Oh, come on, Kim, do you really think I would encourage that - that Lolita?"

The door to the inner office jerked open. "Kim, we are trying to have -" Skinner cut himself off and stared at Mulder. "What's going on?"

"There's been an incident, sir," Kim said. She pointed a pencil toward Mulder. "Your intern appears to want to file a complaint against him."

Skinner came out into the office, shutting the door behind him. "Kit, what happened?"

Mulder looked at Kim imploringly. "She sat on my lap, and she kissed me and offered to 'fix' my marriage."

"And she's filing complaints based on that?" Skinner said tightly.

"No, she's filing complaints because I rebuffed her, although that's not what she's going to put on the form," Mulder predicted. "Kat, I didn't do anything to encourage her. We were talking and -"

Skinner surprised Mulder and Kim by putting a hand over Mulder's mouth. "Shut up. Don't say another word. Go home. Don't go back to the office. Just go home."

Mulder twisted away. "My car keys are down there," he argued. "My wallet, my license, my house keys."

Skinner looked at Kim.

She stood. "I'm on my way."

"What's the point in me going home?" Mulder protested. "Won't that make me look dirty?"

"No." Skinner looked so mad he was ready to spit. "Just trust me on this, will you?"

"No. I didn't do anything."

"Mulder, don't make me make it an order."

Mulder went cold all over. "Fine." He turned and went out of the office.

Kim met him in the hallway a few minutes later, with his jacket, and other personal effects. "She's not down there."

"Great," Mulder groaned. "She's probably setting up an ambush at my car."

Kim gave him a pitying look. "Do you want me to escort you safely to the garage?"

Mulder glared at her. "Yes."

As they waited for the elevator, Mulder demanded waspishly, "Why didn't you just make a play for him two years ago, when he and Sharon got divorced?"

Kim surprised him with a slight smile. "I thought about it." She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button marked 'P'.

"I wish you had. It would have saved me a lot of grief."

"It would have spared you a lot of happiness too," she pointed out.

"Ah, but I wouldn't have known what I was missing, would I?"

Kim stepped out into the parking structure. "The coast appears to be clear."

"Kim, you know I would never encourage that girl, don't you?" Mulder asked desperately.

Kim nodded. "If you were the type, you would have started something with Agent Scully a long time ago," she said softly. "And I know you really love him."

Mulder smiled impulsively. "Does that still weird you out?"

Kim smiled back. "No, I know he's happy. I've known him longer than you have, Agent Mulder. And I know that he was never at peace with himself. He carried the guilt of so many losses around with him. Since he met you, he's buried a lot of ghosts." She touched his sleeve. "And as someone who has loved him from afar for a long time, I'm glad."

Mulder suddenly felt guilty for the way he had toyed with her. "I didn't mean to put you in an embarrassing situation that night," he began. "It was just that I know he enjoys your company. You're more considerate of him than I am, and sometimes he needs someone like that."

She smiled again, but this time it was tinged with sadness. "It's all right, Agent...Mulder. Why does he call you Kit? Is it because it means a baby fox?"

"Well, partly that," Mulder admitted, shrugging on his jacket as he reached his car. "It's really short for Kitsune, which means fox in Japanese."

"And Kat?"

Mulder had forgotten that they had both used their bedroom names earlier that afternoon. "Oyakata. It's Japanese for Boss."

Kim laughed. "That's wonderful. It really is."

"I suppose." Mulder unlocked the car door. "As someone who has known him longer than I have, do you think he believes me?"

Kim pursed her lips. "I know Kat believes you, believes you with his whole heart, but A.D. Skinner has to look at both sides of every issue."

Mulder nodded and sighed. "The problem is that Kat loves me, and A.D. Skinner thinks I'm a big, fat, pain in the ass."

"I'll try to influence him," Kim promised. "You know, I'm pretty fond of you, too." She eased the door shut on him and waved her fingers a little before she backed up and walked away.

I'll be damned, Mulder thought, watching her walk away. Scully was right. He reached for his cell phone and dialed.

"Scully." You could never tell if Scully was running a marathon or praying in church. She always sounded the same.

"It's me, Mulder. Are you still cutting up bodies?"

Now she sounded a little tired. "No, I'm on my way to the car. What do you want?"

"You were right, on both counts."

"Only two?" she drawled. "Which two?"

"Smart-ass."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Meet me at Bart's and I'll tell you."

"Mulder, it's only three." He could see her checking her watch. Scully could be so...so Scullyish. "I was on my way back to the Hoover."

"Don't bother. Our office is a ghost town. Bart's, twenty minutes, and there'll be chili fries in the deal."

"Done."

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

Scully pulled in behind him in the parking lot, so she hadn't spared any tire tread in her quest for chili fries. She climbed out of her car, shouldered her bag, with a determined little gesture and came up to him just as he reached the door. "Which two?" she demanded.

Mulder smiled, shrugging out of his jacket. She was as single minded as he was. Why was it no one noticed it in her? They slid into a booth in the back, and Mulder ordered chili fries and two malts. Then he held up two fingers. "Kim and Monty."

Scully's eyes widened. "What happened?"

Mulder's smug smile faded as he recalled his earlier mortification. "Monty made a play for me this afternoon. The last I saw of her, she was sprawled on the floor under my desk where I dumped her on her ass."

Scully reached across the table and gripped his wrists with fingers of steel. "Details, Mulder."

Mulder gave her a brief account of the events leading up to Monty's unceremonious tumble. "The trouble is, she's going to file a complaint, and I don't know how Skinner's going to take it."

"He'll believe you," Scully said, but it lacked conviction. The fries had come, and she was poking her fork into them, seeing how many she could spear in one bite.

Mulder swished the straw around in his malt. "Kim said, and with this I have to agree, Kat will believe me, but Skinner's got to look at both sides."

Scully looked up, chili and cheese dangling from her lip. "Kat? She called him Kat?"

Mulder reached out with a napkin to tenderly wipe her mouth. "Yeah, he called me Kit, and I called him Kat, there in the office, in front of Kim." He shrugged awkwardly. "So she asked me about it."

Scully ignored his ministrations. She was pushing her fork into the basket again. "What was the second thing? Kim?"

Mulder took a long drag on his straw. "Oh, she told me she was very fond of me."

Scully put her fork down. "Just like that," she said doubtfully.

"Just exactly like that," Mulder reiterated. "She even -" he stopped because his cell went off. "Mulder."

"Mulder, where are you? I just tried the house." Skinner's voice was so hot that it nearly burned his ear.

"I stopped to have a drink," Mulder snarled.

He heard the sharp intake of breath that preceded a lecture. "Agent Mulder, you know Bureau policy about drinking -"

"First of all, A.D. Skinner," Mulder snapped, "I'm not on Bureau time. I got sent home, remember? And secondly, I'm having a malt."

"A malt?"

"A malt."

There was a distinct softening of the A.D.'s tone. "Sorry."

"You'll have to do better than that," Mulder retorted.

"Well, I knew you were mad. I just wanted to make sure you got home all right."

"I will, after I drink myself into a malted stupor." He hesitated. "Have you talked to her?"

"I'm going to."

"I didn't do anything, Kat."

Skinner's voice went hard again. "We'll discuss it when I get home."

Mulder folded his phone. "Bastard," he muttered.

"He's doing his job," Scully said gently, around her straw. "Come on, Mulder. He can't cut you any slack just because you two share a mortgage payment."

"Yes, he should," Mulder argued, angry that Scully didn't see the difference here. "In this case, he should. This is a moral issue." He pressed a fist to his chest. "He should know my morals."

Scully didn't have an answer to that, so she pushed the congealed chili fries around with her fork. "He knew he was going to have a problem with her," she said, at last.

"With her? He's acting as if he's having a problem with me." Mulder slumped back in his seat, recalling a suddenly suspicious conversation the previous weekend. Skinner offering to change places with him, sacrificing himself on an altar of sexual identities. "So, that's what he was talking about." He sat up, feeling Scully's eyes on him. "No, Scully, this is something you don't want to know about." He started to ease out of the booth. "That bastard has been expecting me to give in to her, all along." He dropped money on the table. "I'm surprised he didn't call you and ask for advice."

"He did," Scully said before she could stop herself.

"And what was your advice?" he asked, reaching for his jacket, across the back of the booth.

"Take her out and shoot her."

Mulder didn't laugh. He just nodded. "You're right. That would have been the easiest thing to do. It was too dangerous to trust Mulder to be able to stick to his principles." He turned on his heel and marched out, his face burning, his gut in knots, and his heart...well, his heart was probably in pieces.

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

Skinner leaned against his desk, feeling an unexpected ache somewhere in his middle, and it wasn't heartburn. He hurt Mulder. He knew that. He didn't doubt for a minute that Monty Shires was imagining all the evils she was alleging Mulder had committed upon her. Mulder might be tempted, mightily tempted, but Mulder was an honorable man, and he wouldn't do anything to dishonor himself, her or Skinner. Still, he had hushed Mulder's protestations up for two reasons. He couldn't be accused of being swayed by Mulder's story until he actually knew there would be a complaint filed, and he thought it might be good for Mulder's reputation to let it get around that he had made a grab at the sexy Miss Shires.

But, did he have to hurt Mulder in the process?

Ashcroft came in. He was shaking his head. "It's a pretty little story, Walt."

"Do you believe it?" Skinner asked quietly, rubbing at his shoulder. He must have slept wrong.

"I don't know. He's always been very circumspect around the women at the Bureau. If he's dated any of them, no one's talking, but there is the fact that Agent Scully -"

"We'll leave her out of this," Skinner said curtly.

"What do you think?" Ashcroft asked, settling into a chair.

"I don't believe it. And I'll tell you why; Kim doesn't believe it. She warned me the first day Miss Shires was here, that she would be a trouble maker, and that she would be making trouble, specifically, for Agent Mulder." Skinner folded his arms over his chest. "I might have dismissed it as female jealousy except that it was Kim, and Agent Scully seemed to support her opinion. In the past week, Agent Mulder has not given any indication that he views Miss Shires with any special emotion." He surprised Ashcroft by grinning at him. "On this, you can take my word. I'm around him at night, and he's not giving any indication that he's pining for her. She doesn't slip into conversations, and she isn't visiting us in any indelicate times."

Ashcroft nodded and glanced away. A.D. Skinner was not usually so forthcoming. "Still, these feelings could have caught him unaware. She was wearing a particularly alluring dress today."

Skinner nodded, and rubbed again. "Just so." He had to get back in Mulder's good graces quickly tonight. He could certainly use a good massage.

"Well, she'll be up in a moment. What are you going to do?"

Skinner straightened. "I'm going to pretend to believe her. I'm going to lead her. She'll either betray herself, or she'll give us cogent evidence that she's telling the truth."

"A dangerous game, isn't it?"

 "Not with you here as a witness," Skinner returned. Behind him his phone buzzed. "Yes?"

"Miss Shires is here," Kim announced icily.

The burn in his middle had jumped up to sit under his sternum. "Send her in." Skinner went around his desk, and remained standing.

Monty came in, as cool as Kim's voice. She looked at Skinner, and then at Ashcroft. She tossed her hair disdainfully. "I didn't know there would be strangers here."

"This is Deputy Director Ashcroft," Skinner said. "My boss. I thought it would be appropriate for him to be here. You're not only leveling serious charges against one of my agents, you're also leveling these charges against someone I am involved with personally. Please, sit down."

She floated down into a chair, and brushed her hair back. Her face was a mask of icy displeasure. "I can't expect you to pay any attention to what I have to say."

"On the contrary." Skinner leaned forward. "I'm not at all surprised."

This startled her. "You mean … this has happened before?" There was just a hint of pain in her voice.

Skinner nodded, looked at Ashcroft, and nodded again. "I'm afraid so."

Her eyes narrowed. "He told me he was gay."

Skinner sent another quick glance to Ashcroft. Ashcroft seemed to see the significance. "Really? He usually says he's bisexual. Please, go on. I know this is painful for you, Miss Shires, but you can imagine how painful it is for me, too." He sent his eyes over her arms and legs. "I don't see any bruising. That's good. He's usually so … physical."

"Ph - physical?" she repeated, stunned.

Skinner nodded. "It occurs to me that we ought to have you examined for trace evidence." He looked at Ashcroft. "Should I order a forensics team?"

"I think so," Ashcroft agreed.

"Forensics, what for?" She tossed her hair back. "You don't seem to be taking this very seriously. I mean, he claims to be married to you and -"

"He told you we were married?" Skinner sat back, pretending to be dumbfounded. "He doesn't usually mention that until later - much later. I really do think you ought to be examined, while there's still a chance to collect some evidence against him. Usually the girls don't file a complaint until it's too late to do that."

"Evidence, you mean, like a rape?" Monty said uncertainly.

"You did say he forced himself on you, I thought -"

"Oh, he didn't rape me, if that's what you mean," she said quickly. "He just made certain … implications, and he … kissed me - passionately."

"Must be slowing down," Skinner said, reaching for a thick file. "He used to be able to pin a girl to a filing cabinet in fifteen minutes. Not that I'm condoning this behavior, and believe me, if we can get evidence, sworn testimony, we will finally have what we need to censure him, possibly dismiss him. It's been going on too long. Now, where exactly did this assault take place?"

She was starting to shake, but she was still willing to push through. "D - down in his office."

"Oh, well, we might be in luck." He looked at Ashcroft. "We're still running surveillance down there, aren't we?"

Ashcroft nodded. "I can have the tapes transcribed in less than an hour."

Skinner looked at Monty again. "We started doing surveillance down there about a year ago, after another unfortunate incident. But in the past year he's been very discreet. I thought maybe he knew we were taping him, but evidently, he doesn't." He closed the file. "If you don't mind waiting, we'll get it transcribed, and then you can read it and include it in your statement." He looked at Ashcroft. "I think we finally got him."

Monty gave it up then, tears starting to spill over her cheeks. "He didn't...you really have that office bugged?"

Skinner nodded.

"How can you do that to him? You - you're married to him."

Skinner nodded. "He's a sick man, Miss Shires. He's got an addiction to sex. I've known it for years, but," he sighed. "What can I do? I love the poor bastard - oh, I beg your pardon."

Her lower lip was trembling. She looked very hurt and a little angry. "He didn't exactly force himself on me," she said, in a small, watery voice.

"No? What exactly did he do? We must get it all down in your statement, Miss Shires."

"Nothing." She stood up, and brushed her hair back, her eyes blazing. "Forget I said anything. I'm not going to help you two sink him … it's sick. And I'm going to tell him that you've got his office bugged." She whirled away and out the door.

They were silent for a moment, looking at each other, and then Ashcroft started to laugh.

Then Skinner laughed.

After a moment, Kim came in. She looked from one to the other, and then she laughed too.

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

When Skinner came home that night, the lights were out. The house was dark. He felt a wave of anxiety rush over him, putting a weight on his chest. But the car was there. Mulder must be home. He must have gone running. Maybe he fell asleep in front of the television set. Maybe, maybe, maybe. He raced up the steps and slid his key in the door. Mulder's briefcase wasn't on the table, nor were his keys. He hurried upstairs. The bedroom was empty. So was the den.

He was on his way downstairs again, when the house phone rang. Skinner nearly broke something racing to it. "Skinner."

"Walt, is Mulder there?" Scully sounded tired, and concerned.

"No, not yet," Skinner said, trying to sound calm and unconcerned, even though he felt as if his heart was working its way up his throat.

"He's not? He left me at quarter to four, and he said he was going home."

Two hours ago! Now it felt as if it would pop out of his mouth. "Well, he must have made a stop on his way," Skinner said, carrying the phone to the kitchen door and looking out at the car pulled up to the garage.

"Walt, he was very upset with you," Scully said.

"I know. He had every right to be."

"How could you doubt him?"

"It's part of my job to be impartial," Skinner said wearily.

"Mulder was right when he said it was a moral issue, and you should know his morals," Scully shot back.

"I'm not going to argue this point with you, Agent Scully," Skinner said stiffly. "Do you want me to give him a message?"

"I just wanted to let him know we have another doctor's appointment on Friday," she said. "There was a postcard in my mail today. I didn't get a chance to tell him about it."

"Do you want me to come?" Skinner asked quietly.

"If it won't threaten your impartiality," Scully said. "I'm sorry, Walt, that was uncalled for. But you did hurt him, and now I'm concerned."

"In point of fact, I am too," Skinner confided, pressing a fist to the achy place around his breastbone. "I don't know where he is. The car is here, but he hasn't been in the house."

"He just went for a walk," Scully said gently. "He's angry, and he likes to walk his feelings out. You know that." She paused. "Call me when you find him, please?"

"Sure." Skinner put the phone down and went down the back steps. He looked in the car. His jacket, his briefcase, his cell phone were all on the front seat. But there was no sign of Mulder. Scully's right, Skinner told himself, fighting back panic. He's just walking off his feelings. Without even giving it any thought, Skinner turned and started walking, up to the end of the block, around the corner, across the street, and down the main road, past the elementary school. It was his usual route when he was running.

It was a typically humid, hot August night, and Skinner began to wish he had changed clothes or taken the car to look for Mulder. The air was so thick it was making it hard for him to breathe, and his heart still felt as if it intended to pop out of his mouth. But he didn't turn back. He was almost to the halfway point in Mulder's run, the park on the other side of the school. Beyond that, there was a restaurant and a little pub. Maybe Mulder went to have a real drink.

As Skinner came up over the hill, taking a shortcut through the park, he saw something that twisted his heart back up into his throat; a grown man, in shirtsleeves, sitting alone, swaying forlornly, on a swing, his long arms tangled in the chains, his long legs dragging in the sand, his head tipped down, a picture of quiet misery. Skinner turned and jogged up to him. "Kit?"

Mulder's head snapped up in surprise. He drew his hands up into the chains of the swing and tucked his feet back, as if he was going to set the swing in motion. "What brings you here, A.D. Skinner?"

Skinner leaned against the A-frame of the swing set. "You."

Mulder answered with a shrug.

"She recanted," Skinner said quietly.

Mulder pulled himself upward, using his arms to lever his body into a standing position on the canvas seat of the swing. "Well, I guess you feel better, don't you?"

Skinner flinched. "I never believed her for a moment. I just had to go through due process. Come on, Mulder," he said impatiently. "You didn't think I could sweep it under the rug, did you? A girl like that can attract a lot of attention."

"You could have listened to me," Mulder said, shifting the weight of his body just enough to make the swing slide forward and back gently.

"I didn't need to listen to you," Skinner countered. "I knew you wouldn't do anything to that girl. I knew you were an honorable man, and no matter how attracted you were to her, you wouldn't -"

Mulder scowled down at him. "How do you know I was attracted to her?" he challenged.

"Because you're a man," Skinner answered.

"A gay man," Mulder reminded him, sourly.

"No. If that were true, you might actually be attracted to Clive or Chaz, or Agent Carroll, or Alex Krycek."

"Carroll's gay?" Mulder repeated, losing focus for a moment. "What have you heard about Krycek?"

"That Krycek likes his bread buttered on both sides," Skinner answered, delicate yet smug.

"Like me," Mulder concluded flatly.

"Is that what this is about?" Skinner snapped. "You're feeling less than manly because you weren't attracted to -"

"I was," Mulder yelled. "That's the problem, I was." He pumped at the chains, making the swing soar a little. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, but she's been sleeping with us the past few nights. Yet, when she climbed onto my lap and offered to 'fix' my marriage, all I could think about -"

"She climbed into your lap?"

"Listen to me," Mulder commanded. He swayed back and forth for a minute. "I wanted her, Kat. I really did. But I didn't want her enough to wreck what I have. That's the thing. I like what I've got more than I like what she had." His face twisted up, pained. "I just wanted you to know that before she started saying things."

"Oh, I already knew that." Skinner stepped in front of him, catching the chains, looking up at him. "You're the most honorable man I know, Fox Mulder. A thousand Monty Shires couldn't come between us." He released one chain and slid his hand up around Mulder's back.

"Stop it," Mulder hissed. "Someone will see us."

"It's dark," Skinner countered, and reached up with his other hand to embrace Mulder. "Tell me you forgive me and then I'll tell you how I suckered her into betraying herself in front of Ashcroft."

"What was Ashcroft doing there?" Mulder stepped down from the swing, avoiding Skinner's embrace, and began to walk back up the rise.

"I needed a witness, didn't I? Who better than D.D. Ashcroft? Then no one could accuse me of sweeping my … what were you, again? Oh, yeah, my love bunny's indiscretions under the rug."

Mulder slowed his pace, shoving his fists into his pockets. "So, what did you do?"

Skinner shook his head. "Uh, uh, you haven't forgiven me yet."

Mulder shrugged again. "Nothing to forgive you for."

"You thought so," Skinner reminded him, his voice tightening, his heart pounding.

"You proved me wrong," Mulder answered.

"Kit." Skinner caught his shoulder, swung him around. "I just realized something. You never forgive me. I do something that upsets you, I ask for forgiveness and you tell me there's nothing to forgive. That's not fair."

"What's the point?" Mulder protested. "I get upset, I realize I had nothing to get upset about. If I had nothing to get upset about, then there is nothing to forgive."

"If I hurt you -"

"I hurt myself," Mulder answered flatly, shrugging Skinner's hand away. "You never forgive me, either."

"You don't do anything."

"Aha!" Mulder spun, pointing accusingly. "What about Connecticut? What about Baltimore?"

"I drove you to both of those decisions," Skinner argued.

"Maybe I drove you to yours."

"Mulder." Skinner felt that ache coming back, bigger, tighter, deadlier. "Do you realize you have never forgiven me for one single damn thing I've done? You've never forgiven me for hitting you, for hurting you, for buying that house, for - for that night last year. What are you doing, keeping a fucking catalog to explode all over me one day?"

"It sounds like you're the one with the catalog," Mulder returned mildly.

Skinner stiffened. Mulder was baiting him. Mulder wanted him to lose control. Why? So Mulder would have an excuse to leave, once and for all? He wanted that girl. And now he … Skinner rubbed distractedly at his shoulder. His arm was hurting again. And now he...this pain in his chest felt like an elephant squatting on top of him. Oh, Mulder, please don't leave..."Oh." He wanted to say more, but that was the only word he could get out. He saw Mulder's eyes come toward him, go round in panic. He saw Mulder take a step toward him, coming at such an odd angle, and then he realized he was going down on his knees.

Mulder rushed to him, was at his side before he hit the ground. "Don't …" he gasped, as Mulder tried to hold him up. "Don't … leave me."

"I won't, I won't." Mulder's voice was soft, trembling. He was tugging at Skinner's tie. "Your heart? Skinner, is it your heart?" he demanded. Kneeling, he was in no position to hold Skinner upright, so he eased him back on the grass.

"Hurts," Skinner mumbled, trying to fix his hands around Mulder's arms. "Don't leave me, baby."

"I won't." Mulder was petting his shoulder, the aching one, distractedly. "Do you have your cell?" he asked, patting down pockets. "Mine's in my car. Where's yours?"

"Don't leave me." It was all Skinner could think of that was really important.

"Don't you leave me," Mulder barked. "Come on. Where's your cell phone?"

Skinner finally understood what he was saying. "Briefcase." His lips were starting to get numb. "Kiss me."

Mulder looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Look, I'm going to run over to that restaurant and call 911. Can you hang on for me?"

Skinner's hands clenched obediently around Mulder's upper arms. "Promise," he insisted urgently. "Promise." He wanted to close his eyes but he couldn't until he saw Mulder nod. It was getting so hard to breathe.

"Promise?"

Mulder nodded jerkily. "Now, let me go call the paramedics." He eased Skinner's hands away, gently, got to his feet and ran.

Skinner closed his eyes, feeling empty, alone, and for the first time, scared. Something was wrong. What? Why was he laying in the grass, in the dark, in the park? Oh, yes, he was having a heart attack. Where was Mulder? Someone would have to tell Mulder. Someone would have to look after Mulder. He opened his eyes again. He was starting to feel cold. "Mulder, don't leave me," he said on a sigh. He knew this feeling. He'd felt it before. His soul was leaving his body. He was dying. He'd been dead before. But this time, he was leaving someone behind. He didn't want to go. "No," he groaned, struggling against the pain and the encroaching weakness. "Not this time."

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

He opened his eyes again. White. Bright white. Bells. Soft angelic voices. Warm. This is nice. Why did I fight so hard?

"Mr. Skinner?"

How formal this angel was. He smiled.

The angel looked away. Another angel came. This one had a sweet, familiar face, a soft, sad smile. "Kat?"

"Kat," he repeated. "I used to know someone who called me Kat."

The smile got sweeter. "I know. I did."

"It's short for Boss."

The angel looked up. "What did you give him?"

"Morphine."

"Well, I think the elephant got short dosed, then."

"Elephant. Did you see the elephant?" Skinner asked urgently. It wasn't his imagination. There was an elephant.

The angel laughed. It just exploded out of him, helplessly. "Skinner, you're doped up. But you're okay. Don't ever scare me like that again."

Skinner closed his eyes again, gratified to know that someone had seen the elephant.

When he opened them again, it was dark, and he was cold. And there was a burning sensation in his chest. He panicked, tried to sit up. Strong arms came around him, held him. "Easy," a husky whisper murmured. "Easy. Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"

Skinner focused on the voice. It was Mulder's. His eyes became accustomed to the dark. He could see Mulder at the bedside, holding him down. "What..." His voice wasn't working properly. "What the hell happened?"

"You scared me to death, that's what happened." Mulder backed away, visibly shaking. "You had a fucking heart attack." He swallowed and moved back to the bed, putting his hand on a bandage in the middle of Skinner's chest. "It wasn't a bad one, and they got to you in time, but I thought you were going to pull the black curtain on me, stuck in the middle of that park, alone."

Skinner reached up to touch Mulder's face, found it wet. "I was afraid you were going to leave me," he confessed, in a rasp.

"You told me I couldn't," Mulder reminded him. "Here." He turned the light on, making them both flinch. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Skinner nodded, obediently. "You look like shit, Mulder."

"Thank you. You're a treat, too."

"I've at least had drugs. You don't look like you've slept in...two...nights?"

"Three."

"I thought you said it was a mild heart attack," Skinner protested.

"No, I said it wasn't bad, and they did have to do surgery, and they did give you drugs," Mulder responded. He sat down in the chair that he had been using, pulled up to the bedside. He rested his head against Skinner's arm. "You scared the shit out of me," he repeated softly.

"Forgive me?" Skinner asked.

"Everything, if you promise never to do that again."

"Turn out the light," Skinner said, and reached blindly to draw Mulder back to his side, caressing his hair, his unshaven cheek, his tear wet lashes.

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

They had both fallen over a cliff. Mulder and the baby, hanging on by threads. Skinner could only save one of them. He reached for Mulder, but Mulder pulled back, demanding that he save the baby. Skinner pulled the baby up over the ledge and suddenly the baby transformed into Monty Shires, and Mulder dropped to the rocks below.

Skinner sat up with a gasp. The room was filled with the half light of early morning. Mulder was still beside him, half sitting, and laying on the bed. The room was filled with flowers. I can't believe this, he thought to himself, feeling old, a footstep away from death. A heart attack. That's what happens to old men. Not me. I'm in good shape. I watch what I eat, I exercise, I work long hours in a high stress job, I have a high maintenance relationship, a baby on the way - it's amazing I haven't stroked out by now. I hope no one called my mother. This would kill her.

Mulder sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes. "What's the matter?" he mumbled. "What do you need?"

"Nothing." Skinner took a quick assessment. No more tubes, or wires or beeping monitors. He must be all right. "Go home. Get some real sleep. Eat something. Go to work, think about -"

"It's Saturday."

"Go to a movie. Saturday? Scully's doctor's appointment -"

"She went. Everything's fine. She's worried about you. We all were. It's been a veritable parade the past few days."

"When can I go home?" Skinner pushed the bedclothes back. He wasn't imagining the discomfort. They had put in a catheter.

Mulder's arms came around him. "Whoa, Lone Ranger. You've got to get back on your horse yet."

"When can I get rid of this?"

"I imagine any time now," Mulder agreed. His face crinkled up in a sympathetic grin. "They're a bitch, aren't they?"

"You aren't the comforting presence I thought you'd be," Skinner said with a growl.

"Huh." Mulder slid from the bedside and stretched. "Let me go find a ward nurse and see what the discharge plan is."

Skinner watched him go. He remembered with a jolt, his very real fear of losing Mulder, and thought, even a heart attack is worth it, if he stays.

- END part 9 of 13 -
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