TITLE: Same Game: Part X - Two Points

NAME: Mik

E-MAIL: mikdok@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17. M/SK. This story contains slash i.e. m/m sex. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution.

SUMMARY: Two men have something to say.

FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist...Flames? Send 'em to my brother, he's having a barbecue.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is an AU, very vague spoilers for multiple episodes, nothing current. Skinner has always been their boss. And I don't give a damn how many arms Krycek has, he doesn't get to play.

KEYWORDS: story slash angst Skinner Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. I'd rather say that they really are mine, but I've been advised to deny everything.

This is for Geoffrey, who gave me permission to play with his characters from "What You Want", for the owners and shareholders of the Chatterers Gallery for their love, support and lifetime supply of "Peeps", and querida Susan, for her brilliant execution of all things beta.

Same Game X - Two Points

by Mik

TO: Bulldog@techone.net

Subject: Wastin' Away in Margaretteville

Walter,

Spooky reporting as directed, SIR! Yet another black hole in Middle America. I've now reached the point in the field assignment where I believe the world would be best served if we cut out the middle of this country, shipped it to Canada, and glued the two coasts together. I know, I know, you like this rural shit, and I can expect to be administratively spanked for that remark when we get home--if we get home.

I'm sure the dutiful Dr. Scully has sent you her autopsy findings. (Just once I'd like to be sent on a field assignment where she doesn't end up spending her days in a morgue. I hate the way she smells when she gets back, and she always wants to discuss it while I'm trying to eat dinner.) (Upon reflection, I should add, she doesn't particularly care for it, either.) If she has also sent you her initial expense report, I can explain item 15. Yes, I did flatten that film kiosk, but I can't help it if I lost control of the tractor. I didn't grow up driving to school on one. Fortunately, no one was inside at the time. I wish that could be said of the donut shop (that would be items 19, 20, 21 and 22). But, fortunately, no one was seriously hurt, and the cops didn't seem too pissed about the patrol cars.

All of the above was a joke. I swear. The only thing I've damaged on this trip was my hip, backing into a gate that decided to hurry and close before I could get out. That won't be showing up on any expense reports. Stand down, Mother Hen. I'm okay. It was a nifty bruise, but other than that, no problems.

This place is dull as...as...I don't know what. I believe the expression is dishwater, but as I have studiously avoided ever having to wash dishes, it struck me as hypocritical to make reference to something with which I've had no actual experience. I didn't know there were still places where 'blue laws' are in effect. You can't even get espresso after nine here. That's another joke. You can't *ever* get espresso here. Decaf is only for yuppie tourists.

They do get newspapers here, though. Including USA Today and The New York Times. I noticed the little Briggs contretemps is still getting front page play in both. I see they are now mentioning you by name. This doesn't bode well, Walter. Which is the real reason why I'm writing this.

It's just a matter of time, we both know, before public outcry will have you on the carpet and before the OPR. We also know that will have to be the end of us. With them planning to, as the dainty Doctor Dana puts, do a rigid sig on your life, there will be no way to hide our relationship.

So, we end it, now, before they end it for us. I guess that's what I'm trying to say, Walter. We stop, now. Tonight.

There are so many reasons why we should never have started, and it's miraculous that we've lasted this long. (I know, I know, three weeks may not seem all that impressive to you, but it happens to be a personal best for me.)

You want me to elucidate? Very well. First and foremost, the obvious. You're my superior, my supervisor, my boss. Unless you're an elected official, that sort of fraternization is frowned upon. And then there are those people out there, Them, the Them that will ultimately take me down. I don't want them taking you with me. Look at my track record. Anyone who gets near me gets burned, singed at the least. Please back away from me, get out of the line of fire. I've had enough people martyred for my cause. If you were added to the list, well, I'd probably give up--everything. I'm not being melodramatic, I'm stating a fact: I lose you, I stop living.

There are so many other reasons. I think, technically, I'm not the most stable person to be in a relationship. (Don't think I don't hear you saying, 'duh'.) I haven't had a successful one in my life, going all the way back to the womb. Even if we didn't face having the OPR up our butts, who knows how long you could be around me before one of us was arrested for justifiable homicide? I know you like the sound of 'until death do us part', but, really, Walter, I don't think that's what you had in mind.

And there's that whole 'death do us part' mentality, Walter. Let's face it, you are the kind that was meant for picket fences and pipe and slippers and all that Middle America stuff. I respect it, I do, but it ain't me. Can you really see me driving a mini-van? Think what our insurance would be like? I'm shuddering as I write this. Of course, I realize you haven't asked me, yet, but I thought I'd just save you some breath. I doubt I can be domesticated or our darling Dana would have done it already. Believe me, buddy, if there was any woman that could make me sit, stay and come, it would be her. Lucky for me, I suppose, she's never shown the slightest interest in putting me on a lead.

I know everything I've said has been negative, but there are some positive things I need to say, before I say goodbye. You've been good to me, Walter. No one's ever been better. You've been good for me, as well. You've given me three weeks where I've looked both ways before I crossed the street, just so I could get to you safely. I guess I mean you're basically good. You're decent. I don't know much about the breed as a whole, but you are. I feel so unworthy when you pull me close and tell me you love me. At the same time, I want so much to be worthy. I went out here driven to make you proud of me. I know, I know, you're not my daddy. Fine. But, I've always wanted someone to be proud of me. Can you blame me if I wish it was you?

So...thanks. I don't think I'll be looking for a replacement. Once you've had the best, who needs the rest, right?

M

TO: Spooky@touchtone.com

Subject: RE: Wastin' Away in Margaretteville

>Walter,

>Spooky reporting as directed, SIR! Yet another black hole
>in Middle America. I've now reached the point in the field
>assignment where I believe the world would be best served
>if we cut out the middle of this country, shipped it to Canada,
>and glued the two coasts together. I know, I know, you like
>this rural shit, and I can expect to be administratively spanked
>for that remark when we get home--if we get home.

You may get more than an administrative spanking for that remark. Remember that the people who live in that 'rural shit' pay your salary.

>I'm sure the dutiful Dr. Scully has sent you her autopsy
>findings. (Just once I'd like to be sent on a field assignment
>where she doesn't end up spending her days in a morgue.
>I hate the way she smells when she gets back, and she always
>wants to discuss it while I'm trying to eat dinner.) (Upon
>reflection, I should add, she doesn't particularly care for it,
>either.) If she has also sent you her initial expense report,
>I can explain item 15. Yes, I did flatten that film kiosk,
>but I can't help it if I lost control of the tractor. I didn't
>grow up driving to school on one. Fortunately, no one was
>inside at the time. I wish that could be said of the donut shop
>(that would be items 19, 20, 21 and 22). But, fortunately,
>no one was seriously hurt, and the cops didn't seem too pissed
>about the patrol cars.

I suppose you thought all the above was a joke.

>All of the above was a joke. I swear. The only thing I've
>damaged on this trip was my hip, backing into a gate that
>decided to hurry and close before I could get out. That
>won't be showing up on any expense reports. Stand down,
>Mother Hen. I'm okay. It was a nifty bruise, but other
>than that, no problems.

Dr. Scully informed me that "nifty bruise" was more like a serious laceration that required six stitches.

>This place is dull as...as...I don't know what. I believe the
>expression is dishwater, but as I have studiously avoided
>ever having to wash dishes, it struck me as hypocritical to
>make reference to something with which I've had no actual
>experience. I didn't know there were still places where
>'blue laws' are in effect. You can't even get espresso after
>nine here. That's another joke. You can't *ever* get
>espresso here. Decaf is only for yuppie tourists.

I suppose, for the sake of your conscience, I should introduce you to the concept of washing dishes. Your reward will be a decaf espresso.

>They do get newspapers here, though. Including USA Today
>and The New York Times. I noticed the little Briggs contretemps
>is still getting front page play in both. I see they are now
>mentioning you by name. This doesn't bode well, Walter.
>Which is the real reason why I'm writing this.

>It's just a matter of time, we both know, before public outcry
>will have you on the carpet and before the OPR. We also know
>that will have to be the end of us. With them planning to,
>as the dainty Doctor Dana puts, do a rigid sig on your life,
>there will be no way to hide our relationship.

>So, we end it, now, before they end it for us. I guess that's
>what I'm trying to say, Walter. We stop, now. Tonight.

I believe that needs to be a mutual decision, and it needs to be made face to face, not via e-mail.

>There are so many reasons why we should never have started,
>and it's miraculous that we've lasted this long. (I know,
>I know, three weeks may not seem all that impressive to you,
>but it happens to be a personal best for me.)

>You want me to elucidate? Very well. First and foremost,
>the obvious. You're my superior, my supervisor, my boss.
>Unless you're an elected official, that sort of fraternization
>is frowned upon. And then there are those people out there,
>Them, the Them that will ultimately take me down. I don't
>want them taking you with me. Look at my track record.
>Anyone who gets near me gets burned, singed at the least.
>Please back away from me, get out of the line of fire.
>I've had enough people martyred for my cause. If you were
>added to the list, well, I'd probably give up--everything.
>I'm not being melodramatic, I'm stating a fact: I lose you,
>I stop living.

I notice you generously omitted the most obvious, that we're both men. I'm not afraid to say it, Mulder. It surprises me that you are.

I don't deny that I'm your supervisor, and I've had more than one twinge over that, but I don't believe that I used my position to bed you. If you think otherwise, I'd appreciate it if you'd state it for the record. If not, let's remove that from the list.

As for Them, I don't give a shit about Them. They've come after me before, and in case you've missed it, I'm still standing. I'm pretty resilient, Mulder. I've been through a lot and come out on the other side in one piece. If They are going to come after me, let them. We'll face Them together. I won't run. And you can't push me away.

>There are so many other reasons. I think, technically,
>I'm not the most stable person to be in a relationship.
>(Don't think I don't hear you saying, 'duh'.) I haven't
>had a successful one in my life, going all the way back
>to the womb. Even if we didn't face having the OPR up
>our butts, who knows how long you could be around me
>before one of us was arrested for justifiable homicide?
>I know you like the sound of 'until death do us part',
>but, really, Walter, I don't think that's what you had in mind.

Mulder, I've been intimately involved in the worst aspects of your character for much longer than three weeks, and, the occasional need to wrestle with you in hallways or have you committed aside, I think I can stand you.

>And there's that whole 'death do us part' mentality, Walter.
>Let's face it, you are the kind that was meant for picket
>fences and pipe and slippers and all that Middle America
>stuff. I respect it, I do, but it ain't me. Can you really
>see me driving a mini-van? Think what our insurance
>would be like? I'm shuddering as I write this. Of course,
>I realize you haven't asked me, yet, but I thought I'd just
>save you some breath. I doubt I can be domesticated or
>our darling Dana would have done it already. Believe me,
>buddy, if there was any woman that could make me sit,
>stay and come, it would be her. Lucky for me, I suppose,
>she's never shown the slightest interest in putting me
>on a lead.

Yes, I agree that the idea of you behind the wheel of a mini-van is terrifying. The idea of you as a part of my life 'until death do us part' is something else entirely. I admit, I haven't really allowed myself to think too far into the future, but more for your sake than mine. I will now tell you, because I think it serves the purpose of this discussion, I want to have the whole package with you. I want what you describe as picket fences. I want you behind the fence with me. I want to grow old with you. I don't see it happening any time soon, but I like the idea. I like it a lot.

>I know everything I've said has been negative, but there
>are some positive things I need to say, before I say goodbye.
>You've been good to me, Walter. No one's ever been better.
>You've been good for me, as well. You've given me three
>weeks where I've looked both ways before I crossed the street,
>just so I could get to you safely. I guess I mean you're
>basically good. You're decent. I don't know much about the
>breed as a whole, but you are. I feel so unworthy when you
>pull me close and tell me you love me. At the same time,
>I want so much to be worthy. I went out here driven to
>make you proud of me. I know, I know, you're not my daddy.
>Fine. But, I've always wanted someone to be proud of me.
>Can you blame me if I wish it was you?

Mulder, you moron. I am proud of you. I have always been. I've been proud of you as an agent, as a human being, and as someone I would like to spend the rest of my life with. You describe me as decent, but you have no idea. I've done things you don't know about. I've donned the black hat more than once, and I'm not proud of that. But you...there's never even been a speck of dust on your white hat. Granted, it's sometimes at a cocky angle, and it gets knocked off your head often enough, but it remains unblemished. You don't compromise, Mulder. I admire that, I respect it. I am damned proud of it.

And that's my final argument: You don't compromise on anything else, why compromise on this? Be with me, see me through this. You promised me you wouldn't abandon me. I'm calling you on that promise. We'll face whatever outcome together.

>So...thanks. I don't think I'll be looking for a replacement.
>Once you've had the best, who needs the rest, right?

>M

My sentiments exactly. Now, get your butt home. I miss you. I love you.

S

-THE END-