Title: Pain in My Heart (1/1) Author: Lyrical Soul Pairing: Sk/M Spoilers: Big Time for Requiem, En Ami Rating: R for language, implied m/m relationship. Beta: Louise Wu, Wretched. Many thanks. Disclaimer: Not mine, but they have so much more fun when they are with me. Feedback: I crave it. I need it. Send to lyricsoul@hotmail.com Archive: Anywhere is fine. Author's Note: Smooches to my *brutal* beta Louise, without whom this would be in the recycle bin. Thanks for pushing me, and for reading this at least eight times! Big ups for the use of 'nefarious device' and the quick lesson on guns. You're the bee's knees! Thanks to Wretched...Kipling's 1000th Man. You know why. Summary: Skinner gives a rare glimpse of his emotions after the events of Requiem. Angst, tears, pain...who could ask for anything more? I'm sitting here in the dark with a nearly empty bottle of scotch in my hand. I've long since given up any pretense of being civilized...I'm drinking it straight from the bottle. Yeah, I'm drunk, and I'm going to try my damndest to stay that way. Drunk and listening to Otis Redding. A deadly combination. The urge to hurl myself off of my balcony is strong. Mr. Pitiful. That's me. I don't usually drink this much. A few glasses a week are enough for me. But today...I needed something. I've been trying to find Mulder. I've cursed, I've yelled, I've raged. I've destroyed three cellular phones in anger. I can't get any answers. I hardly know what questions to ask. Today, the futility of it all hit me. After spending the last 48 hours turning those woods inside out looking for some clue as to what happened to Mulder, I fell apart. I'm aching. Hurting. So, I'm drinking. I want to be numb. I don't want to think. I don't want to eat. I don't want to remember. But I know that no matter how much I drink, no matter how many times Otis moans about the pain stopping, I won't be able to forget. God, how can I? I take another drink of scotch. I've been sitting here for hours, trying to figure out what the hell happened. I lost him. My most troublesome, irritating, quirky, paranoid agent. Mulder. My brilliant, beautiful, troublesome, irritating, paranoid, insatiable lover. I choke back a sob at the term. Lover. For the last year he has been mine. In my heart and in my bed. An unexpected pleasure in my otherwise sad existence. The reason that I didn't eat a bullet when I discovered Krycek's nefarious device controlling me. Mulder. He trusted me enough to fall in love with me. To be with me, knowing the risk to his job. Knowing that he still had enemies that could make life difficult for him. He chose to love me, and risked everything to be with me. How did I repay him? I lost him. I promised Scully that I'd keep him safe. But I didn't. I couldn't. I didn't even know how. Out there in those woods searching for something that I didn't even believe in. I was helpless. I watched him leave me. Taken by a fucking UFO. I watched in disbelief as it flew away. The sight took my breath away. In that same moment, I realized that a piece of my soul was flying away from me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't yell or cry or shout. I could only whisper his name and try to understand what had happened. I never believed him. Maybe that's what shames me so much. That I was out there, practically smirking at him as he set up his infrared beams. The entire time I was like, yeah, right. A doubter. Doubting Skinner. Oh, I believed in him; I supported him as best I could. He accepted that. But if I was pressed to say that I believed in UFO's and aliens, I would have to say no. I've read Mulder's reports until I was blue in the face, but I couldn't accept that what he was saying actually existed. But when I looked up and saw that...thing flying away, my only thought was, God, I hate myself. All this time, he was right. And now he's not around to gloat. That thought alone sends a fresh stream of tears down my face. I wipe them away with an angry swipe of my hand. I take another swig from the bottle and set it down on the coffee table with a bang. This isn't what I want. I want him here with me. The memories of him talking, laughing, spouting theories, making love to me...I feel the tightness in my chest. I can't breathe. My heart is breaking in a million pieces. The memories of him in the office on that last day. Him calling me "Walter" at the office. That was something. My pulse jumped a hundred points at the huskiness in his voice. His worry for Scully, for me, for those people in that town. His anger at Krycek and Marita. Krycek. That rat. He knew what was happening the entire time. I shouldn't have listened to him, but what choice did I have? I should have...no. Scully was right. They wanted Mulder. And they got him. Oh, god. I pick up my bottle again and take a long drink. I'm just going to keep drinking until I'm not in pain anymore. There was so much left unsaid. Things that I should have told him. That I needed him. That I wanted him with me forever. That I loved him more than I could ever say. Shit. Tears. Again. I thought that I was cried out. My shirt is wet from crying. I'm supposed to be strong. Stoic. Unfeeling. But it killed me to lose him like that. Shit. I even broke down in front of Scully. Scully. I take another swig of scotch. Her news was just about as shattering as Mulder's disappearance. Pregnant. She didn't seem surprised. She was practically giddy. I was astonished to say the least. My first thought was that it was Mulder's baby. I didn't think that they'd slept together, but...she is in love with him. She spent the night with him a few times and they even kissed more times than I was comfortable with, but I was never quite sure if they were ever lovers. I never asked him, and he never told me. He was my lover. I knew that he was devoted to me, but he was such a hedonist...maybe he was working up to a threesome. No. He would have brought that up long ago. Besides, Scully had disappeared with Spender Sr. not long ago, running after an imaginary cure for cancer. Mulder was quite pissed at her for that. God knows what Spender did to her while he had her in his clutches. The bastard. I hope this baby isn't a result of some shit he or his cronies did. Hell, they made her sterile. Maybe they undid the damage. I just want her to be happy. Mulder would want that. My tears surprise me. I've never been one to cry. Even when I thought Mulder was dead those times, I didn't cry. I didn't cry for Sharon. I haven't cried since Vietnam. This...it's too much. Mulder is officially listed as missing. After two days of searching, that's what it boils down to. The 'official' story is that he ran away due to the strain of his past cases, but everyone knows that it's just bullshit. I'm so tired of the bullshit and the lies. I don't want to talk; I don't want to think. I just want to sit here and try to forget. I haven't slept in what seems like months. I can't sleep in my bed. It smells like him. God! I would give anything to have him back here with me. I'm tired. Tired of it all. I wanted to die. That was my plan. To shoot myself in the head and end my miserable existence. My gun is right here in my lap, loaded and ready to blow my brains out. But I can't. I've put the gun to my head a hundred times in the last few hours, but I can't do it. It wouldn't...Mulder would die if he came back and found me dead. I know it sounds foolish, but it's the only thing that's standing between me and the gates of hell. I know they'll bring him back. I don't know how or when, but he's coming back. He's got to. I can't live without him. I drain the last of the scotch and throw the empty bottle against the wall. It shatters into a hundred pieces. Like my heart. I pick up the gun. I look at it for a moment, hesitating. With more determination than I felt, I put the safety on, and place the gun on the coffee table. Then I stretch out on the sofa and gather the ratty blanket around me. It's Mulder's, the one he's been wrapping up in for the past year. I inhale the smell of my lover clinging to the fabric. God. I can't live like this. How can I? Every sound, every sight, every smell reminds me of him. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He is supposed to be here with me, letting me hold him. He craved my touch. He said it soothed him, made him feel special. I brush the tears away and take a deep breath. I can do this. I close my eyes again. Sleep. I relax, letting the smell of the blanket soothe me. Letting the tears calm me. Letting the pain in my heart comfort me. For now, I'll sleep. Tomorrow...I'm Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner again. No more crying. No more drunken binges. I can't let myself start that cycle. I have to be strong. A set of solid shoulders to lean on. Barking orders through clenched teeth. Kicking ass and taking names. Strong and solid. Dependable. For him. And for Scully. I have to take care of Scully now. She'll say she's fine like always, but I know better. She's going to need me to be there for her. And I will. It's what I do best. Being strong, though I'm dying on the inside. Knowing that the pain in my heart won't stop until he's back with me. Knowing that there where things I should have said...I shake my head. The need to talk to him is overwhelming. For once in my life, to say what I feel. I draw in a shaky breath. "I...I'm sorry I never told you that I loved you, Mulder. I need you back with me so I can fix that." I hope he comes back soon so I can tell him in person. I sigh again, and try to sleep. The End...for now. Feedback craved. I need it. I want it. To:lyricsoul@hotmail.com