Fortissimo into Crescendo - Part 2
xXx
Kimberly Cook turned her desk calendar over and sighed. 
February 25, Ash Wednesday. Good Lord - Time flies. "I 
suppose I should go to church at noon," she thought. She 
decided she'd go at 1 PM instead to miss the lunch crowd. 
She'd have to ask Assistant Director Skinner when he got in 
about it but she was sure he'd say it was ok. She reached over 
and turned on her PC. Hump day too she thought idly as she 
accessed the file for the monthly expense report she had been 
working on. She contemplated her plans for the weekend.
"Boy they're exciting," she thought sarcastically. Friday night a 
drive by the video store for her weekend entertainment. She 
couldn't decide whether to rent *The English Patient* or *Kiss 
the Girls*. She'd decide whether she was in the mood for a love 
story or a thriller when she got to the store. "Maybe I'll be really 
schitzo and rent them both," she laughed bitterly to herself. 
Saturday would be spent studying for an exam during the day. 
Saturday evening she'd make popcorn, curl up with Clarence 
and Darrow her two cats, and watch the video or videos. 
Sunday morning she'd go to church and then come home, do 
laundry and then finish that Anne Rice book she's started last 
weekend. How scintillating she thought. What an utter rut I live 
in. She sighed again and began to type.
"Good morning, Kimberly," Assistant Director Skinner's voice 
interrupted the clicking of her keyboard. Kimberly swung 
around to look up into his lenses. She brightened up 
immediately.
"Good morning, sir. How was the drive in?"
"There was an accident right out in front of the building this 
morning. What a mess. That's why I'm a little late. Sorry."
"No problem, sir. Your first meeting isn't until 9 anyway. Can I 
get you some coffee?"
"That would be excellent. Did you put Agent Arquette's file on 
my desk?"
"Yes, sir. He's retiring isn't he?"
"Yeah. It'll be a shame to see him go. He was a damn fine 
agent. Still that protégé of his is top notch as well."
"Agent Rodriguez?"
"Yes. She should do quite well."
"I took the liberty of putting her file on your desk as well, sir."
"Good. Kim, Thanks. Don't know what I'd do without you."
"I'll get your coffee." 
As Walter Skinner turned his back on his Executive Assistant 
and walked into his office Kimberly Cook smiled and went down 
the hall for the coffee.
She returned shortly with a cup for her boss and herself. She 
left hers on her desk. She took Skinner's cup and walked into 
his office through the door he had left open. Skinner was seated 
at his desk, head bent over one of the two files on it. He looked 
up when he heard Kimberly approach. 
"Thank you," he replied slightly distracted as Kimberly placed 
the cup near him on the desk. Skinner looked back down and 
continued to read.
"Sir..." Kimberly said. 
Skinner looked back up, "Yes?"
"I'd like to take a later lunch today. It's Ash Wednesday. I'd like 
to go to church at 1 if that would be all right with you."
"It's Ash Wednesday all ready? God, it's hard to believe 
February is almost over," he shook his head in wonder, "Sure, 
Kim, go to church at 1. I don't have a problem with that at all. 
Take as long as you need."
"Thank you sir," Kimberly replied smiling into his lenses.
"You're welcome," he said returning her smile with a slight smile 
of his own. He looked back down and started to read again.
Kimberly felt her heart leap in her chest. "He looks so 
handsome when he smiles," she thought, "he should really smile 
more often." She felt herself flushing. She also heard one of her 
phones ringing. She turned hastily and exited his office. She 
shut the door behind her.
"Federal Bureau of Investigation. Office of Assistant Director 
Walter Skinner. How may I help you?" Kimberly spoke into the 
phone as soon as she had sat down and picked it up.
A woman's voice reached her ear through the receiver, "I'd like 
to speak to Assistant Director Skinner, please."
Kimberly frowned deeply and gripped the receiver more tightly. 
Her jaw muscle was jumping as she replied, "May I ask who's 
calling?" She knew who it was. She recognized the voice and it 
irked her that she was calling again.
"Marita Covarrubias." 
"Fine, I'll see if he can take your call. One moment please." 
Kimberly put her on hold. She bit her lower lip. Something about 
that woman just didn't add up. Kim didn't like her and she new it 
was illogical to distrust her so, but she couldn't help it. She 
hoped to hell it wasn't jealousy. That was so unprofessional. It 
was unfair to Walter Skinner, disrespectful and bordered on 
irrational on top of it. But still something... She stamped down 
the feeling and dialed through to the A.D.
"Yes?" Skinner barked into the phone.
"I have Marita Covarrubias on line 1 sir."
"Oh. Put her through," Skinner replied his voice suddenly a lot 
less tense and formal.
Kimberly punched the hold button and spoke into the receiver, 
"Ms. Covarrubias?"
"Yes?"
"I'll put you through now."
"Thank you, Ms. Cook for being so...prompt," Marita replied.
Kimberly hit the button that would forward the call to Skinner 
with a violent stabbing motion of her finger.
"Bitch," she cursed inwardly. Then she felt tears start to well up 
in her eyes. "This isn't good," she thought, "I can't be doing this 
again. Please, God, not now," she prayed. "What can I do 
though? It just hurts too much," she thought as she wiped at her 
eyes with the back of her hand. She reached forward and 
pulled her rolodex towards her. She leafed quickly through it. 
When she found the card she wanted she pulled it out, read the 
number on it and dialed the phone. The phone rang at the other 
end and then another woman's voice came on the line. 
"Georgetown Psychiatric Associates, may I help you?"
"Yes, I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Oslander please."
xXx
"So, I'll be getting into town late Friday, Walter. I'd love to see 
you again," Marita was saying over the phone from New York.
"Friday's a problem. I've got meetings up the butt and I know 
they'll run late. Can we make it Saturday?"
"Bad week?"
"Marginally annoying but I'm coping."
"Well, that's good to hear. Saturday would be fine."
"All right. But listen, Marita. Uh, I'd like to have you over to my 
apartment. I...I'd like to cook dinner for you if that would be ok 
with you. I'm not a bad cook."
"Really? I had no idea you knew your way around a kitchen, 
Walter. That's fascinating. Well, I'll certainly have to find out just 
how good a chef you are, sir. I'd love to come to your place for 
dinner."
"Any objections to Chinese cuisine?"
"No, I love Chinese." 
"Great."
"Why don't I come over early and help you cook the meal? I'm 
not a bad cook either, Walter. I think it would be fun."
"Sure, I'll give you directions to my place and then we can 
decide on a time."
Skinner gave Marita directions to his Crystal City apartment and 
then they decided she would come over at around 2 PM. That 
would give them plenty of time to talk and prepare the 
somewhat elaborate meal Skinner had in mind.
"So, I'll see you around 2, Walter. I look forward to it."
"Sounds good. See you then," Skinner replied and then he hung 
up.
Skinner had seen Marita once since that night in her apartment. 
She had been in town on Valentine's Day, in mid February. 
They had gone to an opening for a new art exhibit at one of the 
local galleries and then gone back to her apartment. Marita had 
wanted sex again but Walter had rebuffed her claiming fatigue. 
She hadn't put up much of a protest. She was due to fly out in 
the morning anyway.
In truth it hadn't been fatigue. It had been a combination of 
distrust and disgust. Skinner didn't like either emotion in 
connection with Marita but he hadn't been able to help feeling 
that way. He'd done a lot of thinking about the last time they had 
been together. Even though the sexual release had been 
fantastic the way they had gone about it had sickened him the 
more he thought about it. He really wanted to discuss his 
feelings with Marita. He wanted to try to make her understand 
that he didn't want the sexual part of their relationship to 
continue in that fashion. If she insisted that she wanted him to 
hurt her again he would have to stop seeing her all together. It 
just made him hate himself even more and he was trying to 
work through his self-loathing enough all ready without adding 
the additional complication of sadomasochistic sex into the 
therapy sessions. Hell, Karen Kosseff would have field day with 
that one. God, he really didn't want to got there with her that 
was for sure.
So, Skinner had decided if he could get Marita on his own turf, 
fix her a good meal, and make nice, he just might be able to 
broach the subject with her. Broaching and explaining were two 
different things though so he looked forward to Saturday with a 
mixture of desire and dread as he turned back to reading the 
files on his desk blotter.
xXx
"OhhhhUhhhhh," Dana Scully was groaning as Mulder thrust 
between her legs. He was really going for broke and it felt 
phenomenal. She watched Mulder and it sent her up to another 
level of ecstasy. He looked so erotic, his face transformed in 
pleasure. He had his head tucked down slightly and his mouth 
open, gasping with his efforts. His eyes were shut and his neck 
muscles straining as he concentrated on pumping into her. He 
had one hand between their bodies and he was stroking her clit. 
He really wanted them to come together that night. He had told 
her he was going to try to have her join him in his climax, and 
now he was working like hell to make it happen. Scully's chest 
filled with love for him and she felt her body begin to tense in 
anticipation of her orgasm.
"Come for me, Scully," Mulder moaned and then she felt his 
balls tensing against her body and she cried out and grabbed his 
ass, urging him on.
"Oh, I love you...so close, harder," she gasped into his ear and 
then she felt her climax rip through her. It came in one mighty 
wave as her inner muscles clamped down over Mulder's cock. 
She saw tiny sparkling pin points of light in front of her eyes. 
She arched her ass up frantically and bucked into Mulder's 
rocketing hips.
"OHGOD, come with me, come with me," She gasped as 
Mulder bit his lip and headed for home. 
Scully moaned loudly as she felt his entire body tense against 
her. She went through another spasm of her own as she 
watched Mulder start to reach his own plateau and then crash 
over it into oblivion. As she watched Mulder's orgasm shatter his 
senses she was almost overcome with the vision of it.
Mulder opened his mouth and a low growl of pleasure came 
out. Then his voice rose to a higher pitched cry. He rocked 
back on his knees and Scully watched him as he flung his head 
back, shut his eyes and threw his arms out to the side. He still 
threw his hips forward against her. He drove into her for one last 
terrific thrust.
"OHGODOHGGGOD!" he yelled as he came. As he threw his 
arms out, Scully had a thought flash through her mind. She 
thought that Mulder looked just like Christ on the cross, a 
tortured Christ, crucified. She was completely undone by the 
idea and the passion of the moment. She began to leak tears as 
Mulder collapsed forward into her embrace.
They rolled onto their sides, Mulder still inside Scully. They lay 
together for several minutes unable to speak. Mulder gently 
wiped the tears from Scully's eyes with his thumb.
"Have I told you how much I love you?" he whispered finally 
finding his voice.
"I think you just did," she whispered back. She lowered a hand 
down between then and stroked where they were still joined 
together.
Mulder shut his eyes and smiled. He reached forward and 
kissed her. As she continued to gently fondle him he pulled out. 
Scully gave him a final little pat and then brought her hands up 
and placed her arms around his neck for a tight hug.
Mulder laughed, "You've got arms of steel, Scully. I'm 
impressed."
"Well, you've got buns of steel so I guess we're even," she 
quipped lowering one hand to slap him playfully on the ass.
"Ouch, watch it or you'll bruise my tender skin."
"What time is it?" Scully asked rising up to look over Mulder's 
shoulder at her bedside alarm clock, "God, it's 12:30 all ready."
"Ok, so we humped into Saturday morning," Mulder chuckled.
"Well, I have to get some sleep now. You'll want to get a few 
hours too so you'll be alert for your cartoons, right?" Scully said 
teasing him.
"Oh yeah. I wouldn't want to snooze through *Johnny Quest* 
after all." Mulder smiled.
Scully turned onto her opposite side and snuggled back into 
Mulder's body. Mulder spooned in close against her as well and 
draped his long muscular arm protectively around her middle. 
He nuzzled her neck.
"You're still coming over to my place tonight, right?"
"Yes, I gave my word, even though I'm just a bit skeptical of 
your culinary abilities." 
"Hey, I can follow a recipe."
"I know you have an eidetic memory. That's the only reason I 
accepted."
"Oh sure. I know that wasn't the only reason."
"Well..."
"Oh come one, Scully, admit it - you've always wanted to do it 
on my couch haven't you?"
"Mulder!?"
"Well?"
"OK, Yes. I've had fantasies for years about getting you naked 
on that stupid couch, all right? Satisfied?" Scully giggled as 
Mulder smooched her neck.
"More then you could ever know, Scully. More than I could ever 
say..." he whispered lovingly into her ear.
xXx
It was 4 PM and Walter Skinner was lining up egg roll skins on a 
flour covered board that sat on the island which in turn sat in the 
middle of his kitchen. He placed a bowl with a vegetable and 
meat mixture in it next to the board. He fished around in a 
drawer for another spoon.
Marita Covarrubias stood nearby sipping from a glass of wine. 
She had arrived promptly at 2 PM. They had spent some time 
talking and eating a plate of fresh fruit that Skinner had thrown 
together. At around 3 PM they'd moved into the kitchen. Marita 
had been cutting up vegetables earlier but now she was 
watching in fascination as Skinner got the ingredients for the 
egg rolls together.
"How interesting. Can I help you with those too?"
"Sure, just take those skins and put some of the flour over 
them. I need to find the wire frying basket for lowering them into 
the hot oil anyway."
"All right." Marita replied as Skinner rummaged in a cabinet. He 
found the frying basket quickly and then he stood aside and 
took up his own wine glass as Marita sprinkled flour over the 
egg roll skins.
"So what do I do with this?" Marita Covarrubias asked laughing 
slightly as she picked up the first of the egg roll skins from the 
rice flour.
Skinner was standing across the island from her. He swallowed 
his wine quickly, set the glass down, and started to move 
around the end of the island.
"Oh, let me show you," he replied. He reached her side and 
stood next to her. He took the egg roll dough and placed it flat.
"You just spoon a medium amount of the these ingredients into 
the center, like this, and then you fold it over, and roll it up. Tuck 
the ends in and...viola." He deftly demonstrated as he spoke.
"God, Walter, that's remarkable. Where did you learn to do 
that?" Marita asked genuine appreciation in her voice.
"It's just something I picked up over in Southeast Asia, that's all," 
he replied. He didn't want to tell her he'd picked it up from 
watching one of Cracker Rand's regular Vietnamese girls 
prepare spring rolls for them in her tiny apartment one night. A 
night he had spent stoned again on her couch while Cracker 
had balled her brains out later on.
"Well, it's amazing that a man with hands as large as yours can 
do something so delicate. It takes a very gentle touch," Marita 
replied watching as he placed the first egg roll aside and started 
on the second. She picked up her wine glass again and took a 
sip.
"Yeah, well I guess you didn't give me a chance to show you 
just how gentle my hands can be did you?" he replied. He 
spooned some of the vegetable and meat mixture into the 
center of the egg roll skin. "Ba dum bump. Ok, that's out on the 
table," he thought. <Balls in your court, Marita.> He put the 
spoon down and started to roll up the second egg roll. 
Marita Covarrubias put her wine glass down and moved closer 
to Skinner. She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him 
gently towards her. He released the egg roll and stood facing 
her. She pinned his eyes.
"Walter, it's just my way. I...I haven't been with very 
many...gentle men. I guess I'm just not used to being treated 
any other way. After a while I just got accustomed to...rough 
treatment. It became part of the pleasure for me. I enjoy it now. 
I know it's not right...but..."
Skinner stopped her explanation with a finger to her lips. He left 
a small amount of flour on her lips where he had touched them. 
He bent forward and pressed a tender kiss to the spot where the 
flour was resting. When he drew back he spoke.
"Marita - it doesn't have to be that way. What I did with you that 
night - that, that wasn't the way I wanted it. I meant what I said 
about it not really being my scene. If you'll let me I'd like to 
show you how I'd really enjoy making love to you. Would you let 
me do that for you, Marita?" as he spoke he stroked her cheek.
"Yes, I'd like that Walter," she whispered.
Walter Skinner smiled into her eyes and leaning forward took 
her into his arms. "OK, so dinner's going to be a little late," he 
thought as he kissed her again. 
Later they lay naked in his bed. He had begun an unhurried and 
tender exploration of Marita's body. There was no rushing, no 
roughness. They had all afternoon and into evening and to hell 
with dinner for now. He was determined to show her that he 
could be a considerate and kind lover. He wanted very much to 
give her pleasure without pain. He didn't want to think of the 
other way any more. He wanted her to forget it too. 
"Is this good?" he asked her as he stroked her nipple slowly and 
erotically. He watched her face carefully. She was beginning to 
flush slightly and he knew she was becoming aroused. He 
smiled at her.
"Yes, it does feel good, I..." she giggled slightly, "I like it - it 
tickles too." she reached over and made the same motions over 
his hard male nipples. "Do you like it too?" she smiled 
mischievously.
"Oh yeah. That...that's very nice," he hissed. He bent forward 
and took her nipple into his mouth.
"OhGGGGod," she stuttered, "that feels wonderful."
They continued to lie side by side and in exploration of each 
other's entire bodies. Skinner set the slow and languid pace and 
Marita followed his lead. Gradually he thought that maybe, just 
maybe, she was beginning to gain an appreciation for how 
much better it felt to be loved and not hurt. She certainly 
seemed excited. Her breath was coming much more quickly. 
Soon both of them were breathing heavily and Skinner's hard 
on was throbbing between his legs.
"God, Walter, I love your cock," Marita breathed huskily into his 
ear, "it's beautiful." 
"You're beautiful," he growled into her hair.
"Can you touch me, here?" she asked drawing his hand down 
between her legs, "I want to feel your strong hands on me and 
then inside me first," she whispered turning over onto her back.
Skinner nuzzled the side of her neck as he lowered his hand 
between her legs. He propped himself up on his other elbow. 
His fingers found her clit and he began to stroke it in lazy 
circles.
"Is this ok?" he asked. 
"Well, a little harder. Uh, I guess you'll have to forget about 
being too subtle here, Walter I...ohChrist - yes - that...that's 
fine," she moaned as he found the right rhythm, pressure and 
friction.
Marita began to rotate and buck her hips slightly as Skinner 
tugged and stroked her. She whimpered when he put first one, 
and then a second finger into her. He shifted so that he could 
continue to stimulate her outside with his other hand as well.
"God, oh God, that feels so good," she cried out and then 
Skinner felt her clamp down over his fingers and she arched up 
into his hands. "Ahhhhhhh," she gasped as spasms shook her. 
Skinner took her into his embrace and held her close as she 
trembled through her orgasm.
"Oh God, baby, that's good, that's it," he murmured kissing her 
hair.
"Walter I...Oh Lord," she mumbled against his chest. She 
stroked his chest hair and kissed his hard pectoral muscles.
"Shhhh, it's ok, just...let me hold you," he said quietly.
"I never really came like that before, Walter. Not without...not 
without the pain," she whispered, "Jesus, that was wonderful," 
she added.
Skinner didn't know what to say. He just held her and rubbed 
her back a bit.
"Walter, I'd like to feel you inside me," she whispered, "I want to 
feel safe."
Skinner pulled back from her slightly and looked into her eyes. 
There was a hunger there. Need and desire for the pleasure 
without the pain now. His need and desire were fueled by it. He 
wanted to give her everything he could. And he wanted to make 
it all feel wonderful for them both.
"I want to feel you around me, Marita. I want you to feel safe 
too. But I'd better suit up first. Hang on a second," he said. He 
kissed her forehead and shifted backwards to reach the other 
night stand. He opened the drawer and pulled out the condom in 
it's foil package. He tore it open and shook the condom out into 
his palm.
"Can I help you with that again?" she asked tenderly.
"I'd like that, Marita," he replied huskily.
Marita took the condom from him and Skinner rolled onto his 
back. His erection bobbed between them. Marita carefully 
unrolled the condom down over his length. She bent forward 
and kissed the tip when she was done.
Then she lay back down and Skinner rolled over next to her. 
They began to kiss again, their tongues dancing together. 
Skinner stroked between her legs and Marita rolled onto her 
back taking him with her.
"Come here, lover," she purred as Skinner settled between her 
legs. She spread her legs and brought her knees up. He 
supported his weight on his forearms and then he moved to 
enter her. His movements this time were slow and gentle and 
Marita closed her eyes at the exquisite sensation of him pushing 
his large, thick cock into her. Finally he was inside her up to his 
balls. They lay together for a moment savoring the connection. 
"Are you all right?" he asked her.
"More than all right, Walter. God you feel so good."
"So do you baby," he whispered. Then he began to move 
against her. This time there was no hurting, no hurrying at all. 
Right now he wanted her to feel the ecstasy of a long, slow, 
tender fuck and he held himself under iron control as he pulled 
back and then thrust into her.
Marita closed her eyes and bit her lip. She began to arch up to 
meet his hips and soon they were moving together in a 
marvelously erotic slow motion ballet and in a perfect duet of 
passion and pleasure.
"Walter, oh my God this...Oh God," Marita groaned as she 
rotated her hips under him. "God I can feel every inch, 
I...Ohhh."
"Don't stop moving like that, JesusChrist that feels good, 
women...I..oh God..." Skinner sobbed. He knew he wasn't going 
to be able to hold back from really humping like hell in a 
second.
"Baby, I..I'm gonna have to..."
"No, that's good, I need you to...harder, yes, OhGOD..." Marita 
gasped. She reached up and grabbed his ass to encourage him.
Skinner grunted and then growled low. He began to pick up the 
pace, pumping into her harder and faster.
"Don't let me hurt you," was the last coherent thing he said 
before he dissolved into incoherent moaning.
"OHGODITALLFEELSSOGOOD," Marita cried.
She pulled her legs up farther and then moved them up higher 
yet to place them over Skinner's shoulders. She really wanted 
to feel all of him inside, hard, fast and as deep as possible. 
Skinner held onto her legs and began to drive into her hard.
"OHFUCK," he cried out as his thighs slapped against her ass. 
He was close, so close.
"Just do it, Walter," Marita cried out, "Fuck me, don't stop, don't 
stop..."
Skinner did as asked, and he soon felt his balls contract tight, 
and as his orgasm overtook him he moaned Marita's name.
"OHSHIT!" Marita screamed as Walter Skinner pumped into her 
at the height of his bone dissolving climax.
"What, what's wrong?" he gasped out as she stared over his 
shoulder.
"Fuck you, Alex!" she cried out.
"Fuck what?" Skinner sobbed as he strained against her. He felt 
a sudden pressure and then stabbing sensation in the back of 
his neck. He groaned and then he pitched forward, passing out 
cold on top of a cursing Marita Covarrubias.
xXx
So, did that live up to your fantasies?" Mulder asked with a 
sleepy grin as he held Scully close against him.
They had just finished making wild, passionate love on his living 
room couch. Mulder felt bone tired but completely and totally 
fulfilled, and madly in love. 
"Well, except for the sound effects..." Scully began.
"Sound effects? Hey you made as much noise as I..."
"Not YOU Mulder," Scully laughed, "The couch! I never heard 
so many creaks and metallic boinks in all my life," she shook 
with mirth. Mulder laughed as well. 
"Metallic boinks!? Well, if you think that was loud wait till I get 
you on the road at some cheap motel and then see how loud 
the furniture can *boink*." Mulder retorted.
"Uh, uh. Remember the rule?"
"Oh yeah. The RULE," Mulder smiled. Scully could feel his 
gentle laughter against her back. The couch was barely wide 
enough across for both of them to lie on. But that was just fine 
with her. She had to press really close to him. The couch hadn't 
been the greatest place to make love as it turned out. Not the 
greatest but it had been fun. She could still see Mulder thrusting 
into her with one knee on the couch seat and his other leg over 
the side, foot planted firmly on the floor for balance. It had been 
a bumpy ride but she'd hop back on the horse in a minute. She 
giggled at that thought and snuggled even closer.
"What?" Mulder asked as she wiggled against him.
"Oh, nothing. Have I told you yet how proud I am that you had 
that talk earlier this month with Skinner?"
"Twice."
"Well, I'm telling you a third time."
"And I'm thanking you a third time," he bent forward slightly and 
kissed the back of her neck.
"I just hope he listened to what I said about Marita."
"I hope so too, Mulder." 
"He's seeing her again this weekend."
"I know. Kimberly was in the woman's lounge crying again."
"God, that poor woman." 
"Well, if it's any consolation, Mulder, she did tell me she was 
getting counseling. I think she needs it. She also said she's 
seriously thinking of resigning. She can't take the pain any 
more."
"Well, that's probably for the best under the circumstances. 
Especially with her law school work load. I just hope she can 
swing in financially." Mulder replied.
"She did say she had a small inheritance from an uncle so 
maybe she'll be all right."
"Yeah, I hope so. And I hope Skinner will be too. I told him to 
watch his back, Scully. I just hope to hell he listened to me."
"So do I Mulder. So do I," Scully answered, "now, let's go to 
sleep ok? I'm really tired."
"And so you should be, you wanton woman," Mulder kissed her 
a final time on the neck and then he reached up and pulled the 
top half of the blanket that was all ready under them over from 
the back of the couch. He wrapped it around them both and 
drifted off to sleep.
xXx
Fox Mulder was floating, floating, floating and then sinking, 
sinking, sinking rapidly. He hit bottom with a thick mental thud. 
"Jesus. What *was* I dreaming?" he thought. He knew he'd 
been asleep. He had been asleep on his couch, Scully spooned 
in front of him. He smiled and reached for her. His hand met 
something a lot more solid. Hard. Someone's back. Not Scully's 
back. A voice suddenly spoke up in his mind.
"Whoa, Foxhunt - hang on there. Let me finish this up and then 
I'll be right with you," the soft Southern drawl advised.
Mulder looked at his own arm moving under it's own volition 
over the back of some huge, muscular guy sitting next to him. 
"Jesus I'm having a fucking gay wet dream," he laughed to 
himself. He bent forward slightly to get a look at the other man, 
his idle curiosity getting the better of him. As he did so he heard 
a voice coming out of his mouth. It was like his own but 
different. It spoke in a Southern drawl.
"Waltuh, I want to warn you, buddy. I got a bad feeling about 
this one."
"About going back on patrol tomorrow? Why?" the other man 
asked.
"Not patrol, Sinnuh. I got a bad feeling about her."
"Who?"
"That blonde bitch, Waltuh. The one you were fucking doggie 
style. She's trouble, my man. Mark my words. There's a bad 
moon on the rise. Bad times comin'. Are you listening Waltuh? 
Do you get my drift?"
"Waltuh, Sinnuh? What the fuck?" Mulder thought in alarm. He 
peered really close at the other man. "HOLYSHIT!" It was 
Walter Skinner. Well, Walter Skinner like age 18 or 19... but 
fucking Walter Skinner as naked as a jaybird and sitting on a 
wet cum spot in the middle of some god damned mattress with 
mosquito netting around it in the motherfuckin' Hotel California 
or some other damn nightmare motel hell - HELP! - Wake me 
up! Get me the hell out of here...."
"FOXHUNT, SHUT THE FUCK UP! You're distracting me. I'll 
fill you in a second, son. There's nothing to be afraid of here. I'll 
take care of it all. Just hold your watuh for a minute," the 
Southern voice of authority commanded. Mulder ceased his 
mental gibbering instantly and watched as his body continued 
it's movement and his vocal chords danced to a different 
drummer. It was almost like hearing his own voice in stereo 
except one speaker output was coming out in hillbilly twang.
He continued to rub Skinner's back in lazy circles. He looked 
into his eyes. He didn't have his glasses on of course. Mulder 
could see his pupils. They were really dilated. Drunk or stoned 
he thought. Most likely stoned he amended as he remembered 
Skinner telling him he'd inhaled.
"Sure, John I get your meaning. I'll watch my step." Skinner 
was saying.
"See that you do, Sinnuh. Now lay down buddy and get some 
sleep. We gotta be back on the line early tomorrow. Don't want 
to have the MPs thinking we went AWOL." 
Mulder watched as Skinner did as he was instructed and then 
he felt his own body move over close to him. He placed his 
head down on Skinner's chest and Skinner wrapped an arm 
protectively around his shoulder. He cringed inwardly for a 
moment but then he realized suddenly that it didn't feel so bad 
to be in the big man's embrace. He felt safe somehow. 
Comforted. 
"John, you ok?" Skinner asked as he gently rubbed Mulder's 
arm.
"Ah am now, Waltuh, Ah am now." the voice of John Rand 
answered out of Mulder's mouth.
Presently Skinner was snoring loudly and Mulder carefully 
extricated himself from his arm and got out of the bed. He 
padded silently over to the tiny hotel bathroom. "God it's hot in 
this room," he thought. Tropically hot.
"Of course it's hot, Foxhunt. This is Saigon in the fucking 
summer," the Southern drawl ran through his mind.
"Who the hell are you, and what the fuck's going on?" Mulder 
asked the voice as his legs carried him into the bathroom. He 
turned on an overhead drawstring light. He sidled up to the can 
and lifted the lid. He watched the strange sight of some guy, a 
highschool class ring on his right hand, grabbing his dick and 
taking it out for a piss. It was disorientating and he swayed 
slightly throwing urine onto the floor.
"Oh hell, your aims no better than mine, Mr. FBEyuh."
"Well, you said you were running the show...what IS your damn 
name?"
"John Rand, Foxhunt. Waltuh calls me, Cracker. Pleased to 
meet you. Turn around if you're done watering that mule."
Mulder shook off and turned around. There was a mirror in 
back of him. He stared into it at the face of a boy. A boy trying 
to be a man under his skinhead Marine haircut. That boy could 
have been Fox Mulder at the same age. The resemblance was 
uncanny. Mulder shook slightly as he looked into the sad hazel 
eyes of John *Cracker* Rand. The eyes of a dead man he 
thought instantly. A greater frission ran through his body. 
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure the feelings mutual. And listen what the 
hell was going on in there?"
"You mean you don't know," Rand laughed a cackling laugh. He 
tugged on Mulder's dick.
"Christ, I didn't mean that. I figured out you must have been 
fucking. I meant what the hell was that stuff about the blonde 
bitch."
"Fucking? We were making love, Foxhunt. But that's beside the 
point. The blonde bitch is why I invited you to the party. You 
see, Waltuh needs help and I haven't been able to give it to him 
in the real world. I mean I can suggest things in here," he said 
gesturing wide to encompass the room, "But he doesn't always 
listen. He ain't listening now and it's getting him in big trouble, 
my man."
"With the blonde bitch?" 
"Yeah, she's got him by the nuts right now. Her and that fucking 
boyfriend of hers. The Commie cocksucker. There's one where 
*Better Dead than Red* takes on a whole new meaning."
"Alex Krycek?"
"I don't know what the fuck his name is, Foxhunt. I just know 
he's gonna hurt Waltuh and I can't help the big dawg. So, 
somebody's got to save Sinnuh. It's got to be you."
Mulder stared at the reflection in the mirror. It was starting to 
fade slightly. "Oh shit, time must be about up," he thought as he 
felt a floating sensation start to run through his body.
"Wait, Cracker. Tell me, where do the blonde bitch and the 
Commie cocksucker have Walter? Where are they holding 
him?"
John's gentle Southern drawl came to Mulder then from a great 
distance as Mulder felt himself rushing, rushing up, up.....
"You know, Foxhunt, Waltuh really loves that 'Vette, that Chevy 
'Vette Foxhunt. I hope you can save her too....." and then the 
voice was gone.
xXx
"Alex, you prick," The least you could have done was waited 
until he was finished," Marita shouted at Krycek breathlessly.
"Oh, he was finished," Krycek hissed angrily, "I don't believe it! 
You...you came for him!" 
"Well of course I did Alex, he's a fantastic fuck. You would have 
come too."
"Yeah, well, I didn't think you were going to enjoy this so 
much..."
"Hey, this whole idea sucks! You know I wasn't in favor of it. I 
had to take some perks otherwise it would have been a total 
pain in the butt. Now help me roll him off for God's sake - he's 
heavy."
Marita was levering up Skinner's unconscious body. She was a 
bit weak from sexual satiation. She had managed to get his now 
flaccid penis out of her at least. And that had been no easy job 
with the condom still on.
"But, God he really had been wonderful," she thought. In the 
back of her mind there was sadness for Walter Skinner. She 
had enjoyed his company. She knew he was a decent man and 
he had tried hard tonight to show her just how caring and 
thoughtful he could really be as her lover. Under other 
circumstances, in another life, another time, another dimension, 
some place far away, Marita Covarrubias might have loved 
Walter Skinner. Instead, she was going to betray him, humiliate 
him and bring about his downfall and thereby indirectly bring 
about the downfall of their main targets, Fox Mulder, Dana 
Scully and the X-Files. In the hard, cruel world of her life and 
her business, Skinner was expendable. No matter what her 
feelings for him or her regrets in doing it, she would complete 
her mission. If she didn't she'd be dead. And she was in no way 
ready to lay down and spread her legs for the grim reaper. No 
way, no how.
Krycek tugged on Skinner's arm and helped to roll him over 
onto his back.
Marita got up and stood next to the bed. Alex reached up with 
his real hand and stroked her breast.
"Don't touch me, you asshole," Marita hissed. She pushed away 
from him and went to gather her clothes.
"You're not going to tell me you care for this hunk of meat, are 
you mon petite?" he asked his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No, I'm not going to tell you that. What I am going to tell you is 
to get your head out of your ass. We don't have much time. We 
have to get him down to the van and out of here. Now get him 
up into a sitting position, get his condom off, and let's get a 
move on."
"What if he wakes up?" Krycek asked half seriously.
"Then I'll cut and run and you can stay here to face the music 
because you gave him the incorrect dosage in that tranq dart."
"Well..."
"Oh for Christ's sake Alex. Do I have to do everything?"
"Marita you know how I'm never sure about those things. I'm 
just no good at guestimating weight. Especially on a muscle 
bound hunk of beef like this guy," Krycek whined giving Skinner 
a shove where he lay, drooling, onto one of the pillows.
"Just keep your hands off him. I'll take care of it," She replied 
angrily. She was almost completely dressed, lacking only her 
shoes and socks. Lucky it's Saturday - I didn't have to worry 
about being Ms. UN today she thought. She retrieved her purse 
and removed a syringe from it. She walked back over to the 
bed and shoved Krycek out of the way. She uncapped the 
syringe and squirted a small jet of liquid out of the needle. Then 
she took the syringe and plunged it into Walter Skinner's arm. 
He gave a soft grunt and resumed his silent, drooling slumber. 
"That should do it, Alex. Let's get him dressed and move him. 
Remember, he's had too much to drink and we're taking him 
home - not out, right?"
"OK, Ok, give me SOME credit, Marita. For God's sake."
xXx
"NO, NO, WAIT - JOHN! NOOOOO!" Fox Mulder yelled loudly. 
He woke up thrashing and Dana Scully was awake instantly as 
well. She was also flying through the air and then on her ass on 
the floor next to Mulder's couch.
She got up on her knees right away however, and grabbed one 
of Mulder' flailing arms, "Mulder, wake up, it's me. It's all right, 
I'm here, you're all right."
"Scully? God damn! Yeah, I AM awake now. Christ what a 
weird dream."
"Were you dreaming about...was it about Samantha?" she 
asked gently.
"Hell no, it was...it was about Skinner. It started out like some 
wild wet dream and then..." 
"Wet dream?"
"Yeah, I was fucking him."
"Mulder!?"
"Well, not Walter Skinner TODAY. We were in Vietnam and 
some guy, I mean...Jesus it's all mixed up." He sat up and 
swung his naked legs over the edge of the couch. He reached 
down and helped Scully to hoist herself up next to him.
"Are you ok?" he asked noticing for the first time that she had 
been pitched off on to the floor.
"I'm fine Mulder, now slow down and tell me what happened in 
this dream."
"Well I was in bed with Skinner in some hotel in Saigon. It was 
as hot as hell. And then some guy was telling me that he was in 
trouble and I needed to help him." 
"Help Skinner?"
"Right."
"In trouble how?" Scully was frowning.
"The guy said that Marita Covarrubias and Alex Krycek had him 
somewhere hostage and were going to hurt him, maybe kill 
him."
"Marita and Krycek? Good Lord! Why? And what guy Mulder? 
Who was telling you this, Skinner?" 
"No, Skinner's lover...I mean his best friend in Nam. What was 
really weird was he looked just like me, Scully. I looked in a 
mirror and I saw his face and it was like - like I was looking into 
my own face when I was 19 years old. Scully I think Skinner's 
in terrible danger. We...we have to try to find him."
"Mulder..." Scully answered a note of skepticism in her voice.
"You don't believe me," Mulder stated flatly.
"Of course I believe you had a dream, Mulder. I just don't 
believe it meant anything. Look. We were talking about Skinner 
and Marita just before we fell asleep. We did mention how he 
needed to watch his back because you weren't sure she was 
trustworthy. Obviously that conversation stayed in your 
subconscious and when you went to sleep your mind conjured 
up that little scenario. Although I find the part about 
you...screwing Skinner rather interesting. But then again, 
statistically many men have homosexual..."
"Scully, I'm telling you this guy looked just like me and he...I 
mean it was so real."
"I'm sure it did seem real."
"He even mentioned that Chevy Corvette Skinner owns."
"Well, did he give you some more concrete evidence, Mulder? 
Something you wouldn't have all ready known or imagined 
about Skinner?"
Mulder looked over at her. Her eyebrows were raised and she 
had on her Dana *Just the facts* G-Woman Scully face again. 
Mulder smiled. "Well, at least she keeps me honest. Makes me 
work for it," he thought. His face turned serious and he ran a 
hand over his mouth.
"Anything, Mulder?"
"I'm thinking. Yeah, wait a minute - he gave me a name - 
John...John Rand. He said his name was John Rand and he 
was his best friend in Nam. They were on leave together. 
Maybe he was in the same platoon," Mulder replied with 
excitement.
"But Skinner told me everyone in his platoon was wiped out..."
"Yeah, well I got the impression this guy was anything but alive 
Scully. I...he felt dead that's the only way I know how to 
describe it. Like a ghost." 
"Well, if there was a John Rand in Skinner's platoon we should 
be able to access the Veteran's Administration records and find 
out."
They both looked up and over at Mulder's PC simultaneously.
"Let's do it," Mulder said.
xXx
They sat together at Mulder's desk staring at his computer, both 
had taken time to pull their clothes back on. Scully was seated 
at the keyboard mostly because she could type faster and also 
because Mulder's hands had been shaking a bit.
They had no trouble logging into the Veteran's Administration's 
database. The main page had loaded quickly and now Scully 
was navigating through the site to get to the Vietnam records 
area. She had been in the database before so her keystrokes 
were confident and quick.
"Did your dream man give you a middle initial Mulder?"
Mulder glanced at her and arched an eyebrow at the remark. 
She arched hers in return. 
"No, just a nickname. He said Skinner called him Cracker."
"Cracker?" Scully asked shaking her head in bemusement.
"Yeah as in Georgia Cracker. He had a Southern drawl."
Scully made several more quick keystrokes.
"There's only one John Rand from Georgia that enlisted in 
1973. You said Skinner enlisted in '73, right?"
"Yes."
"OK, then these should be his records. John C. Rand, Macon, 
Georgia, hang on." They sat and waited as the little hour glass 
icon flashed away on the screen. An error screen came up 
several seconds later.
"What the hell?" Mulder frowned.
"I don't understand this, his records have been sealed," Scully 
replied. She hit a couple of more keys.
"Oh, here's why. God." 
"What?"
"Mulder, this code here in the corner. It means John C. Rand 
was special ops. The circumstances of his death are top secret. 
Did you know Skinner was special ops?"
"No. He never mentioned anything like that. He just told me he 
was the only one that survived the ambush of his platoon."
"Well, he told me that too - in the Boys Home," Scully replied 
quietly, "But he didn't say anything about being in special 
forces."
"Yeah, all he told me was he was wounded and had that out of 
body experience and then..." 
"Out of body experience?" Scully turned and stared into 
Mulder's eyes, "What out of body..."
"Didn't he tell you about the astral projection?"
"No," Scully replied mystified.
"Well, it's a long story, I can tell you about it later. Right now I 
think we really need to access these records."
"Mulder I told you I can't get in. The files are sealed."
"Who said anything about you getting in," Mulder replied 
reaching for his cell phone.
xXx
"Byers, answer the damn phone will you."
"What time is it?"
"11 PM. What does that have to do with answering the phone?"
"Frohike, shut up and answer it," Langly grumbled sleepily 
shifting next to the smaller Lone Gunmen.
"God damn it, Langly, get your foot out of my face."
"Get up and answer the phone then," Langly answered turning 
on his side.
Frohike extricated himself from the couch next to the reclining 
chair Langly was sleeping on and got up. He stalked past Byers. 
Byers looked comfortable lying under the covers in his bed in 
the corner. The bearded Gunmen had gone back to sleep. 
Frohike sighed. "So much for getting to bed early," he thought. 
With the plans to get up early and begin the new edition of the 
newsletter in the morning he was hoping for a decent 5 hours of 
sleep at least. "Well c'est la vie," he thought walking out into 
their main work room. He went to a desk and picked up the 
phone.
"Lone Gunmen, and this better be important."
"Frohike?"
"Mulder?"
"Yeah, did I wake you up?"
"Uh, no, no, I was just sitting here surfing the net. What can I do 
you for?"
At the mention of Mulder's name, first Langly and than Byers 
came out into the work room. Langly walked over behind 
Frohike.
"What does he want?" 
"I'm trying to find out Ringo. Would you can it."
"Is Langly there?"
"Yeah, and Byers. We're, uh, we're putting in a late night on the 
newsletter."
"Good. I can use your help."
"Sure G-man. You know you can count on us. What do you 
need?"
Mulder explained the situation in brief giving what information 
they did have on John C. Rand.
"So do you think you guys can hack into the database and get 
at this guy's file?" Mulder asked hopefully.
"Piece of cake, Mulder," Frohike replied.
"Speak for yourself, Mel-vin," Langly griped.
Frohike had put Mulder on the speaker phone so they could all 
talk to, and hear him at the same time.
"Is there a problem, Langly?" Mulder asked.
"Tell him it's an emergency," Scully's voice came from the 
background.
All three Lone Gunmen looked at each other with eyes wide and 
eyebrows arched.
"Is that the vivacious Agent Scully?" Frohike asked.
"No - it's Tawny Kitaen. Of course, it's Scully, Frohike. I needed 
her help to try to hack into this thing."
Frohike shrugged. None of his business he thought. Still visions 
of what might have been going on in Mulder's apartment would 
fuel his fantasies for nights to come.
"I understand, it's urgent, Mulder. It's just that it's going to take a 
little longer than Frohike's piece of cake would indicate," Byers 
chimed in.
"Well, how long?"
"About an hour," Langly answered.
"OK. Call me back as soon as you have some information. I 
particularly need a photo. And thanks, I owe you."
"No problem Mulder. We'll be in touch," Frohike replied breaking 
the connection.
xXx
Walter Skinner woke into a world of hurt. His entire body ached 
but the worst of the pain was centered in the back of his head. 
There was a tremendous throbbing there that traveled from that 
location all the way up through the top of his skull. He felt like 
someone was driving an ice pick in at the base of his skull and 
giving him a reverse lobotomy.
He opened his eyes and tried to look around but the pain was 
too great. He closed them again. He tried to ascertain where he 
was by using his other senses. He felt like he was lying face 
down on a cheap mattress. It was thin anyway. He could feel 
that his wrists and ankles were shackled. It felt like they were 
shackled to the iron posts on the bed. He knew he was wearing 
only his boxers because he could feel the air and mattress 
against his naked skin. He sniffed and thought he smelled oil. It 
smelled like oil and gasoline. Trying to think harder soon caused 
him to became totally confused and disorientated. He struggled 
to focus.
He groaned loudly. "Where the hell am I. What the fuck was I 
doing?" he thought hazily. Then he remembered. "Oh my God, 
where...where's Marita?" he thought. Fear and panic threatened 
to overwhelm him. He twisted in his bindings and finally opened 
his eyes. The room was bathed in a warm glowing light. His 
eyes locked on Marita Covarubbias. She was standing at the 
foot of the bed, holding a Coleman lantern in her hand. He could 
almost see her despite the fact that it was hard to turn his head 
and he was without his glasses. He would have known it was 
her anyway. He could smell the Opium perfume.
"Marita, are you all right, what the hell is going on?" he asked in 
confusion. His voice came out in a croak. His throat was really 
dry. He was hoarse.
"I'm fine, Walter. Unfortunately, you're not," she sighed. Then 
she walked forward and sat down on the edge of the bed near 
his head. She placed the lantern down on the floor off to the 
side. Skinner noticed she had changed clothes since she'd been 
in his apartment. She was now dressed in a tailored power suit. 
Black. She looked like a fucking undertaker.
"What the hell do you mean?" Skinner asked.
"I mean you're in deep shit, Walter. Here drink this," she said 
bending down to pick up a bottle of Gatorade from the floor.
She tipped it up to Skinner's lips. It was hard to drink it lying on 
his stomach but he drank eagerly. He swallowed some a bit too 
fast however, and started to cough and gag. Marita pulled the 
bottle away.
"Easy, Walter, I don't want you to choke."
"Really? I'm surprised you're so concerned for my health," 
Skinner growled. Despite the crushing ache in his skull he 
wasn't too slow on the uptake. He knew he was in big trouble 
and he knew Marita Covarrubias wasn't at all what she had 
seemed to be. The realization saddened and then angered him 
almost beyond measure but he shook off the emotions 
temporarily. He stamped them down because they would only 
serve to further cloud his mind and he needed to be sharp. He 
needed to stay frosty so he could figure out how to get out if this 
situation alive and with all his parts in place.
Marita bent close to his ear, "Walter, I...actually I do care. Under 
other circumstances...things might have been different between 
us. I...enjoyed our time together. Maybe more than you'll ever 
know."
Skinner focused on her face, "Was it all a lie, Marita? A lie from 
the beginning?"
"Not all of it. I did have an older brother Randy - and he was a 
wrestler. He wasn't MIA though. He died in a car accident. Also, 
I did really like your car. I didn't have an uncle that restored 
cars. I just saw you driving around in it one day and...well I 
always wanted to see that car up close." 
"And when we made love - not that first time - I mean today? 
Was that a God damned lie when you told me you..."
"No, Walter, that wasn't a lie either," Marita whispered and then 
she stroked Skinner's brow. 
"Then why this now?" Skinner asked desperately shaking the 
chains and handcuffs that bound his arms.
"Because this is business you prick, so shut the fuck up," a 
voice came from the door in back of them. Skinner turned his 
head violently because he recognized the voice immediately.
"Krycek!" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"That's Mr. Krycek to you, asshole " Krycek spat out.
"Alex, couldn't you have let us have a couple more minutes in 
private? Marita asked, rounding on Krycek, murder in her eyes. 
She walked towards him, her back towards Skinner.
"No. You're going to miss your plane."
"Get the fuck out, Alex. I mean it." Skinner heard rather than 
saw the gun as a metallic click signaled a round entering the 
firing chamber.
Alex Krycek raised his hands in the air a smirk on his face, "All 
right baby. I'll give you your couple minutes. It's no skin off my 
behind if you miss your flight."
He turned on his heel and walked back through the door.
Skinner sagged against his shackles. Marita came back to the 
bed and sat down next to him.
Skinner wouldn't look at her.
"Walter, I just have one more thing I want to say to you."
"Don't bother, Marita. I don't want to hear it."
"Walter, please..."
"I'm not listening." 
"All right. But I wanted you to know...I am sorry. But like Alex 
said - this is business. Our business. You know the rules. We're 
all expendable."
"Right. Just like any war - baby," Skinner replied his words 
pitched to cut like a knife. Marita flinched and Skinner grinned 
through gritted teeth.
"All right, I deserved that, Walter. But Listen - I've told Alex - I 
told him that if he kills you I'll hunt him down to the ends of the 
earth. When I find him I'll shoot him in the genitals first so he 
can ponder life without a penis and then I'll kill him. I don't want 
him to kill you."
"Then why am I here?" 
"Because you were never the real target, Walter."
"Mulder and Scully? The X-Files?"
"Yes. We knew if we took you they'd come running. And 
originally the plan was to kill you as well. But those plans have 
been...changed. She touched his cheek. He pulled away.
"Get out of here, Marita. Go catch your fucking flight. Get out of 
my sight, you whore." 
Marita stood up. Incredibly she felt tears welling up in her eyes. 
She turned quickly and let her high heeled feet carry her quickly 
from the room. She shut the door behind her.
Krycek was leaning up against the wall.
"Is he all tucked in now?" he asked sarcastically.
"Yes, he'll keep," Marita holstered her weapon.
"How are you going to get through the metal detector at the 
airport with that hog leg?" he asked.
"I have a permit for it, Alex."
"Sure."
"Listen, what gives between the two of you?" he asked a bit 
more quietly gesturing towards the door at Marita's back.
"Nothing, Alex. I just...I respect him that's all. He was a good 
opponent. He deserves our respect. It's why I've told you I don't 
want him killed. Remember that - he dies you fry. 
Understand.?"
"Your wish is my command," Krycek assured her.
"Good."
"When will I see you again?" Krycek asked huskily moving 
close. He pulled her to him with his false arm. He stroked her 
hair with his real hand.
"In about a month. I'll see you in Vladivostock on April Fools 
day."
"Wonderful."
"Just don't BE a fool Alex. See that this plays out to the letter. I'd 
hate to get word that Mulder had gotten the best of you again."
"Don't worry, baby. That's not going to happen this time," he 
sneered.
Marita patted him on his cheek and then she turned on her heel 
and walked out of the warehouse.
Alex Krycek watched her receding back. "Bitch," he cursed.
"I'll see you in fucking Vladivostock and then we'll see who's the 
April Fool."
He wiped his good hand across his mouth. He could just hear 
Skinner coughing in the other room. A wicked smile spread 
across his lips.
"Ah ha, Comrade Skinner," he thought. Well, now he could 
finally have some fun. Of course he had to call Mulder. But not 
right away. First he wanted to have his own little talk with 
Assistant Director Walter Skinner. Marita had insisted he not kill 
Walter. "But that cunt didn't say anything about not hurting him," 
Krycek smiled wide as he sauntered over towards the door to 
Skinner's make-shift prison. As he walked he picked up a tape 
deck from a nearby bench. He hefted it up and then walked 
directly over to the door. He opened the door and stepped 
inside.
"Now where were we Mr. Skinner? Oh yes. Business...."
xXx
Mulder had paced back and forth for at least fifteen minutes in 
his apartment before Scully made him sit down and drink some 
herbal tea she made for them.
After he'd finished the tea, Mulder flopped down on the couch 
and Scully had sat down next to him. Neither one of them felt 
like talking at first. They just held each other. Mulder stroked 
Scully's hair.
"You really believed that dream." Scully stated.
"Yeah, Scully. It, it was like I was there in that hotel in Saigon."
"Mulder, you know I find all of that hard to believe. But...well the 
fact that you did come up with that name...now I just don't 
know."
"Scully I realize you've become more open to extreme 
possibilities...more open to your own faith. I know I've been 
the...well for lack of a better term - the doubting Thomas around 
here lately."
Scully chuckled a bit. 
"But, this dream. Something tells me it was a real warning and 
Skinner's in deep shit. We really need to find out where he is 
and soon." He brushed some of her hair back behind her ear. 
He kissed her on the top of her head. 
His cell phone rang. 
Mulder snatched it up from the coffee table.
"Mulder," he barked into it.
"Is your PC still on G-man?" Frohike's voice danced across 
space into his ear. His voice was filled with excitement.
"Did they get access?" Scully asked quickly.
Mulder held up a finger to ask her to be quiet. She waited.
"Did you get access to Rand's records?"
"Oh yeah, Mulder, it took a little digging but we got him, dude."
"A picture?"
"In living color. We're going to modem everything to you right 
now."
Mulder turned to Scully, "Jackpot," he said and gestured for her 
to follow him back over to the desk.
Scully got up and hurried over as Mulder sat down in his chair. 
She stood in back of him. 
"Ok, Frohike, fire away," Mulder said into the cell phone.
"Mulder, do you remember that movie with John Lennon - 
*What Did You Do in the War Daddy?*" 
"Yeah. Why?" Mulder asked annoyed. "Christ Frohike, just send 
the damn photo," he thought.
Frohike chuckled, "Just ask me that question again after you 
see this photo. Here it comes." Frohike replied.
Mulder accessed his e-mail software and waited a moment. 
He'd cleared out his box after they'd tried to get into the 
Veteran's records so it was empty. Presently the little mailbox 
icon told him it wasn't empty any longer. 
"Ok, Frohike, I think we got it, hang on." Mulder reported back 
over the phone.
He clicked a couple of keys and the letter opened on the 
screen. The records were an attached file. He opened that as 
well. The photo was an inline graphic at the top of the file.
"Oh my God!" Scully exclaimed.
Frohike's voice came over the phone again, "Want to ask me 
why I wanted to know about that movie now, Mulder?"
"Uh, no Frohike, I don't. Listen. Thanks for your help. I owe 
you."
"No problemo, Mulder. Just let me borrow *Red Hot and 
Ready* and we'll call it even, OK?" 
"You've got a deal," Mulder replied breaking the connection.
"Mulder, did you really look like that at 19?" Scully asked staring 
at John Rand's eerie resemblance to Mulder staring out from 
the PC's monitor.
"Well, I had more hair. But - it's an awfully close likeness, yeah."
"He's identical Mulder. He even has your little mole," she said 
touching the spot on his face. 
"They say everyone has a double, Scully. The legend of the 
Doppelganger can be found in many cultures. Maybe John 
Rand is MY Doppelganger."
"Well, whatever he is, it says here he died inside Cambodia in a 
covert action. So, that must have been the reason these 
records were sealed. Skinner's platoon was inside Cambodia on 
a top secret mission at the time he was wounded and the rest 
were all killed in action."
"Covert? Right - the U.S., wasn't even supposed to cross INTO 
Cambodian territory."
"Mulder, this is really...spooky," Scully whispered. She reached 
around Mulder and pressed the down arrow key several times. 
She read the file further.
"What?" Mulder asked as he looked at Scully. A small grin 
played on his lips at her use of his nickname.
"Mulder, John's parents were named Bill and Tina. His sister 
was name Samantha," she said pinning Mulder's eyes. He was 
named after his father's brother however, a casualty of World 
War II."
"God..." Mulder answered the grin fading away.
"Yes."
"Scully, I think you'd better tell me anything you remember 
about Skinner's Chevy Corvette," Mulder replied turning to stare 
into John C. Rand's unseeing hazel eyes.
xXx
Alex Krycek placed the tape deck on the floor next to Walter 
Skinner's head. Skinner looked up into his face and if looks 
could kill Krycek would have dropped in his tracks.
"Are we having fun yet?" Krycek asked cheerily.
"Drop dead," Skinner spat.
"Been there, done that - well almost anyway," Krycek laughed.
"What do you want Krycek?"
"I want you to have some fun, Walter. So, I brought you some 
entertainment. Listen up, Mr. A.D.," Krycek replied. He bent 
down and hit a button on the tape deck."
Voices filled the room. Skinner couldn't help but listen. Krycek 
had jacked the volume up to maximum.
"Are you all right?" he heard himself ask. <Oh NO!> he thought.
"Yes." He heard Scully answer breathlessly.
Skinner could hardly believe his ears. He glanced up into 
Krycek's face. Krycek was smiling broadly as the tape played 
on.
"Jesus, you smell good." 
"You feel good."
"Oh Christ. I...Scully, I...I'm so sorry. I...I wish this..Oh God, I 
can't wait any longer..." 
Skinner jerked up in his chains, "I'm going to kill you 
motherfucker, I really mean it. You're going to die a slow death 
and I'm going to spit on your unmarked grave!" He roared. 
Krycek reached under his arm and pulled his Sig out of it's 
shoulder holster. He placed it against Skinner's temple.
"Shut up, Walter. I want to hear the rest of this. It...it's such a 
great performance." 
Skinner stopped speaking as he saw and felt the cold metal of 
the gun barrel touch his skull. It felt cool and almost soothing to 
the pain in his head. "If Krycek pulled the trigger it would really 
take care of this God damned headache," he thought in the 
back of his mind. His breath came in ragged angry gasps.
"It's all right, it's all right," Scully was crooning on the tape.
"Oh, Dana, please don't let me hurt you, please..."
Skinner could hear their bodies slapping together loud in the 
room at the Boys Home. He felt sick. His stomach started to 
twist. "Oh God, please don't let me vomit in front of this 
asshole," he thought. He held his gorge down as the tape wound 
on.
"OH Dear God." Scully moaned.
"Scully..."
"Walter, OHGOD, this is so FUCKING GOOD."
"Bitch, OH God You BITCH."
"Harder."
"Let me do the work..." 
"OHGOD, OHGOD," Scully started to scream. Skinner could 
hear his own incoherent groans and grunts and that was it, the 
combination of disgust at hearing the tape and the bone 
crushing pain in his head caused him to start to gag. 
"JESUS!" He heard himself yell on the tape, "Don't stop, don't 
stop," he moaned "OHFUCK! OHCHRIST!" And as Walter 
Skinner reached orgasm and ejaculated on the tape his 
stomach ejaculated it's contents onto the bed and over the edge 
onto the tape deck below.
"Mutherfuck!" Krycek yelled loudly and then he turned his gun 
around, flicked on the safety and gave Skinner's forehead a 
quick slap with the gun butt. Skinner's head rocked back and 
the vomit stopped falling over the bed's edge. Skinner's 
stomach got around to just producing dry heaves and he tried to 
wipe his mouth on the mattress beneath him. There wasn't 
much hope. There was too much puke and he was lying in it. 
"You pig," Krycek sneered stooping to shut the tape off. Luckily 
no vomit had hit the off button he thought.
"It's your fault, you dick..." Skinner gagged. Krycek's blow to his 
head hadn't been overly hard but it had made the pain inside 
scream louder.
"Is that the thanks I get for trying to give you a good time. But, 
oh yeah. I should have known - you'd probably like a video 
instead."
Skinner's heart sank. OK now he knew who had the damn 
amateur fuck tape. Marvelous. Now what? 
"Video? Just make sure my close-ups are good Mr. Wes 
Craven. I wouldn't want *Scream 3* to be a flop now would I?" 
he growled.
Krycek laughed, "No worries about that, Mr. Skinner. You can 
see every zit on your tight ass on that video. Not to mention 
every hickey on Agent Scully's tits."
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you did that to us 
are you?" Skinner asked bitterly.
"Sure, I'll tell you. Marita and I had a bet. She bet me that you 
would fuck Scully providing you thought it was a matter of life 
and death. I told her you wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole 
regardless. I lost. But we committed the performance to tape. I 
have to tell you it was SO hot - we've enjoyed rewatching it 
numerous times since we recorded it." 
"Glad I could be so entertaining," Skinner grated.
"Yeah, well - I wouldn't say you were a total success. And 
besides - God, you jerk-off. Why couldn't you have had some 
self restraint. You cost me a bundle," Krycek griped. He 
stepped forward and using his prosthetic hand slapped him hard 
across the side of the face.
"Fuck you!" Skinner shouted at him. He came up in the chains 
again. He felt his mouth split in the corner. He tasted blood.
"In time..." Krycek whispered.
"What?"
"I said it's time I cleaned you up. Can't have you lying in your 
own vomit, now can we? Besides - you smell, Mr. Assistant 
Director."
Skinner shut his eyes. Thank heavens for small favors he 
thought. Krycek walked over to the door and exited the room. 
Skinner could hear him running water somewhere outside. He 
returned carrying something. Skinner squinted to see what he 
was toting.
Suddenly his entire head and half his upper body were covered 
with ice cold water that poured out from the upended bucket 
Alex had in his hands.
"SON OF A BITCH!" Skinner shrieked. He felt his balls pull tight 
against his body with the shock. Most of the vomit washed 
away however, so he was glad for that at least, despite the 
unpleasant way it had been sluiced off. 
After the water, Skinner's head felt marginally better. Not a lot, 
but enough to help him to think a bit more clearly. He shook 
water off his face. He watched as Krycek studied him.
"A towel would be nice." 
"Dream on, Walter."
"Well, could you at least wipe the water out of my eyes - I can't 
see a fucking thing."
Krycek sighed in annoyance. He looked around the room and 
then spotted something off to the right. He walked over and 
took a rag off a nearby desk. He came back over to Skinner 
and swiped the greasy rag over his face a couple of times. He 
threw the rag onto the floor.
"Grease," Skinner thought. "Could it be?"
"Krycek?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you at least tell me where I am?" Skinner asked quietly.
"Sure. You're in that unused office at the back of Hank Luttrell's 
storage facility. You know - right next to his garage. You're 
Chevy's right out there, under wraps."
Skinner struggled to look around from the position on his belly. 
He'd suspected the location but had really been unable to see 
because of the way he was shackled and the fact that he was 
sans specs.
"And you expect Mulder to find me here?" Skinner asked 
fishing for more information. Anything that might give him an 
advantage.
"Oh, Mulder will find out all right. Which reminds me - I need to 
make a phone call," Krycek replied.
"Phone call?"
"Yeah. Hang on." Krycek replied and then he reached into his 
leather jacket and pulled out his cell phone.
He dialed Mulder's home phone number. The phone rang at the 
other end.
"You've reached Fox Mulder. Leave a message after the beep."
He pulled the voice distorter out of his other pocket and pressed 
it to the cell phone. He spoke through it into the phone's end.
"Mr. Fox Mulder this is an urgent message for you regarding a 
very close associate of yours. I would recommend you pick up 
if you're screening your calls." He waited a moment. There was 
no answer.
Krycek hung up the cell phone. "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder," he 
thought, "Trust you not to be home for an important call. Wish I 
had your cell phone number, but I don't. My mistake I guess. 
Well, no matter. I'll just try again later. Not being able to reach 
you will just give Walter and me more chance to play."
"What are you calling Mulder for?" Skinner asked the obvious 
question. Anything to keep him talking. He might slip and 
divulge some additional important information.
"I need to let him know where you are so that he and Scully can 
rush to the rescue. Then I'm going to dispose of them both. Two 
birds with one bullet so to speak." Krycek replied shoving the 
cell phone and distorter back in his coat pockets. "Unfortunately 
he isn't home at the moment. I'll just have to try back later. Or 
maybe I should try to call Scully. But on second thought a little 
bird told me they're together tonight. So, as I said - two birds 
with one bullet."
"You twisted, psycho bastard..."
"Tsk, tsk, Walter. Flattery will get you no where."
"Fuck you!" Skinner hissed at him again.
"You know, Walter, that's the second time you've said that in the 
last few minutes. I'm beginning to think it's a request," Krycek 
replied softly.
Skinner glanced up at him. Krycek was bending over slightly 
looking into his face. Skinner looked directly into his eyes. They 
were cold but there was also a dark spark in their depths. The 
spark of sexual arousal. Skinner swallowed hard. "Oh Christ," 
he thought. I don't believe this..." he let the idea trail off as 
Krycek stood straight again and stepped back. He took off his 
leather coat and draped it over the end of the filthy full size 
mattress.
"I bet you're wondering why this mattress and bed frame are in 
here, aren't you Walter." 
"Crossed my mind," Skinner retorted sarcastically.
"Well, I've been using this as a base of operations for the last 
few days. It's a hole, I know. But it's better then some places 
I've been in." Krycek was kicking off his sneakers.
Skinner watched him unbuckle his belt buckle. The buckle was 
huge. It said Harley Davidson on it. He closed his eyes and 
sighed. "Ok. So I'm going to get it in the ass in more ways then 
one here. All right. It won't be like I haven't done this before. 
But...Jesus." Somehow he had a feeling that this time wasn't 
going to be nearly as pleasurable.
Krycek continued to talk as he removed his belt, "Well naturally 
I needed a mattress to sleep on. And of course it really came in 
handy when Marita was in town," he laughed. The belt dropped 
to the floor. The buckle clanked when it hit the cement.
Skinner took in a sharp breath. "So this was one of Marita's less 
then gentle men?" he thought.
Krycek heard his intake of breath, "You mean you didn't know I 
was having her too? Oh Yeah, Mr. Skinner. I fucked her in the 
ass right there on that mattress. And now I'm going to fuck you 
in the ass on it too," he smirked. He yanked both his jeans and 
jockey briefs down around his ankles in one quick tug. He 
stepped out of them and moved over towards Walter Skinner's 
head. He stood very close and it became all too apparent that 
Krycek was partially erect all ready.
"Can we talk about this...Alex?" Skinner asked in a last ditch 
effort to forestall the inevitable.
"Oh, so now it's Alex is it? One look at my cock and we're on a 
first name basis?"
"I guess we're beyond discussing this then?" Skinner replied.
"You'd be guessing right you cocksucker. I wish you weren't 
tied up on your belly. I'd make you *suck* my dick before we 
got down to the real business."
"Thank God for small favors," Skinner retorted, "Oh that was 
brilliant," Skinner thought, "by all means, antagonize your 
rapist."
Krycek reached over and slapped him in the face again. This 
time he felt his cheek split slightly. Blood oozed down towards 
the mattress.
"I'd like you to be quiet now, Walter. Quiet until I tell you to 
speak. You'll tell me what I want to hear even if I ask you to 
bark like a dog. You'll tell me or I'll break your knee caps. Do 
you understand?"
"Yes," Skinner answered in a clipped voice. He looked up into 
Krycek's eyes again. At that point, he knew he was in serious 
trouble. This man was insane. The only thing that was keeping 
Skinner alive was Krycek's tenuous promise to Marita and 
maybe his fear of her efficiency as a killer. Otherwise Skinner 
figured he'd be dead meat. But, he knew Krycek could still 
injure him very badly without killing him outright. Somehow life 
as a paraplegic or quadriplegic didn't appeal to him very much. 
If he didn't want to get hurt really badly he should cooperate 
now or suffer the consequences.
Krycek walked back to the foot of the bed again. He loosened 
Skinner's leg chains and pulled up on them, giving them more 
length. Skinner groaned as he was able to move his legs more 
fully.
"Don't get too ambitious, Walter. If you try to move around too 
much, or get up, or try to escape in any way I'll break 
something. So, just do as I say and you'll be fine."
"All right," Skinner answered quietly. He started to do his 
relaxation breathing exercises again. Karen Kosseff would 
certainly be surprised to hear about this usage of them. Yup. 
Skinner had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot of Dr. Kosseff after 
this little adventure.
Skinner strained to look back at Krycek. He wanted to at least 
try to see what he was doing, to get some kind of advance 
warning. He made himself very calm and prepared for what 
was going to come next.
Krycek climbed up onto the end of the bed. He grabbed at one 
of the pockets in his jacket where it lay over the frame. He 
walked forward on his knees. As he moved forward he 
positioned himself between Skinner's legs, spreading them with 
a kick sideways of each knee.
When he got to Skinner's ass he stopped and knelt down.
"I have to get these off you Walter, hold very still," he advised. 
Skinner couldn't see him now. He was directly behind him. He 
heard a brief metallic snick. "Switchblade," he thought. And then 
he felt Krycek cutting through his underwear.
He pulled the scraps of material away from his hips. Skinner 
was completely naked now. He heard Krycek drop the knife 
down on the bed somewhere. He closed his eyes. God, he was 
thirsty. He licked his lips.
"Oh, do that again, Walter, lick your lips. I like that."
Skinner did as he was told.
"Oh yeah..." Krycek whispered. Skinner could hear a soft 
sound. He gritted his teeth. Krycek was pumping his own cock. 
Getting it up for Skinner.
Krycek whimpered something low in his throat. It sounded like 
somebody's name. "Maybe it was mine," Skinner thought, "I'd 
better say something."
"What did you want me to do now?" Skinner asked. He tried to 
make it sound like he might be just a little interested in Alex's 
dick. Oh yeah right. He'd rather have Cracker Rand's Georgia 
mule's cock up his butt.
"Oh no you wouldn't Waltuh," Rand's gentle Southern drawl 
came instantly into his mind. "That son of a bitch used to kick 
like hell. And this sick fucker's going to do the same if you don't 
act like you're enjoying him."
Skinner started to answer him aloud.
"No, Sinnuh, not out loud. Just think it - I'll hear you."
"John, I don't know if I can take this. I...I'm scared man."
"Ah know Waltuh. But you have to take it. He's gonna make it 
hurt but just try to relax and think about that night in Saigon, 
buddy. I'll be right here with you. There's no shame in the act, 
Sinnuh. No shame as long as I'm here with you."
"All right, Cracker. I'll try."
"That's my big dawg. Ah know you can."
"I want you to stick your ass in the air, Walter. Get on our hands 
and knees and get ready. I almost am," Krycek sneered.
Skinner could still hear Krycek stroking himself. "Jesus. He 
must be as hard as a rock by now," he thought. He struggled 
against the chains to get onto his hands and knees. He shook 
his head slightly as a brief stabbing pain shot past his eyes. He 
felt suddenly nauseated again.
"Sinnuh, don't worry - I'll take care of your head buddy. Just 
relax." John Rand's voice echoed in his head.
A moment after he uttered the words Skinner felt the pain in his 
head recede and then disappear altogether. He almost sobbed 
in relief.
"Is this ok, Alex?" Skinner asked huskily.
"Oh Yeah, Walter. You have a great butt. Buns of steel. Hey! 
Have you done this before?" Krycek asked a smirk in his voice.
Skinner was silent on that one.
"Hell, never mind. I don't have time right now to listen."
Skinner heard a brief tearing noise. He sighed with relief again. 
Krycek heard his escaping breath.
"Didn't you think I was going to use a condom? Christ Walter. I 
may be a *twisted psycho bastard*, but I'm not stupid," he 
laughed, "and I don't take unnecessary risks."
Skinner heard him easing the condom over his erection. Krycek 
moved close to his ass.
"Sorry I don't have any lube though. Oh well..."
And without any warning Krycek thrust his cock up Walter 
Skinner's ass.
The pain was incredible. Skinner couldn't help it, he shrieked in 
agony, "JE-SUS!" he screamed. His breath came in gasps as 
he tried to fight the burning, ripping sensations emanating from 
inside his body. He knew he was bleeding inside. Tears sprung 
into his eyes. He bit his lip to shut off any more sound.
"OhGod, Walter. Nice and tight. Yessirrrr," Krycek hissed. Then 
he pulled back again and rammed into him. Skinner gripped the 
mattress with his hands. He braced his knees. He was beyond 
pain now. His mind wanted to go somewhere else. It did. He 
was in a bed in a Saigon hotel and John Rand was making love 
with him. Gently and tenderly.
"Waltuh, Ah never got a chance to tell you that night buddy. And 
then Ah never got to tell you at all. Ah loved you, Sinnuh. Ah 
mean - hell I'm sorry man. Ah loved you like Ah guess a man 
isn't supposed to love another man. But Ah did. Ah just wanted 
you to know, Walter. Ah want you to just think of that love now 
and it'll be all right. Let me hold you in my loving arms, Waltuh.
Skinner shut his eyes and fell into Cracker Rand's embrace. He 
told him quietly, in his mind, that he loved him too and he was 
so sorry he was dead. How he blamed himself for leading them 
into the ambush. He'd been on point after all he'd..."
John shushed him with a gentle caress, "We were both on point 
that day, Sinnuh. I'm to blame as much as you. But neither of 
us is really to blame for any of that shit. It was war, man. Don't 
fret about it. Just lie back and let me do you. Ah want to make it 
feel good."
Walter Skinner was more than happy at that point to take John 
Rand's suggestion.
"Fuck, Walter. God damn this feels good," Krycek was moaning 
over his back as he rocked against him.
"Is it gggood for you?" he stuttered out his question.
"Yes," Skinner gasped as John Rand sucked on his cock in a 
Saigon hotel.
"Krycek felt down between Skinner's legs.
"My, my Walter! This is even more impressive live than on 
Memorex," he chortled.
"Do you want me to bring you off, Walter?" he gasped. He 
bucked against Skinner's ass as hard as he could.
"OHGOD, yes, please..." Skinner moaned as Cracker swirled 
his tongue around the head of his rock hard cock.
"That's what I like to hear. Much better, Walter."
Krycek started to pump Skinner's cock in time with his thrusts 
up his ass. Skinner began to rock back and forth against 
Kryceks hip's and his hand.
"OH Baby, that's right. Oh yeah. Let me fuck you, fuck...Oh 
shit," Krycek's words dissolved into incoherent sobs and groans 
as he pounded into Skinner's ass and pumped him with his fist.
Skinner was under John Rand again in the hotel room bed. 
John was murmuring words of love into his ear as he thrust into 
his ass with long, languid strokes. 
"Waltuh, you feel so good. I love you, Waltuh. I love you."
"Walter, come for me you asshole. I want to feel you come in 
my hand," Krycek growled. 
Skinner pumped hard into his fist. Krycek threw himself against 
his hips in a frenzied rhythm.
"You fuck, you asshole! OHGOD I love it. Fffuck. Oh God! 
Come on Fox, come for me - please. Oh dearGod, MULDER! 
You asshole!" Krycek screamed.
Skinner came back for a moment at the sound of Mulder's 
name screamed in ecstasy. He was in pain then but he started 
to laugh crazily. He could hear John Rand warning him to be 
quiet but he couldn't stop the words.
"Mulder? You stupid butt fucker! If you think I'm Mulder you've 
really got the wrong asshole, Alex."
"WWWWHAT?" Krycek choked out and then he smashed into 
Skinner's ass with one last tremendous thrust. Skinner cried out 
in agony again. He felt like his insides were being torn apart. It 
felt like Krycek was going to fuck him in two.
"UHHHHHHH," Krycek groaned as he came. He pistoned into 
Skinner several more times and then he yanked Skinner's 
erection hard. Skinner's orgasm took him as well and he 
mewled in his throat as he shot semen into Krycek's fist and 
onto the mattress below.
Krycek pulled out of him almost immediately. He held the 
condom tight but as soon as he was free of Skinner's body he 
pulled it off and tossed it as far as he could throw it.
Skinner started to collapse out of the kneeling position. He just 
couldn't hold his body up anymore.
Krycek cursed softly and reached forward. He grabbed the 
back of Skinner's neck with one hand, the hand that was slick 
with Skinner's cum. His other hand grabbed Skinner's balls. 
Krycek kept him on his knees quite successfully that way.
"OHJesus..." Skinner gasped as Krycek squeezed his nuts.
"I should rip these off, Walter, for that remark. Say you're 
sorry."
"I...I'm sorry," Skinner choked out. Krycek let up on his balls. 
Skinner gagged.
"Hey, I didn't know you had a thing for Mulder. I'm sorry if I..." 
he choked out.
"Shut the fuck up about Mulder. I don't want to hear it." Krycek 
shoved his neck and head back down. The violent push caused 
what was left of Skinner's strength to give way and he fell back 
down flat on the mattress.
"Walter, I asked you if you did this before. Have you let 
somebody fuck you in the ass? Tell me the truth, now. I'll know 
if you're lying."
"Yes. I did."
"I thought so you hypocrite. After you squirted all over me I 
figured as much. You were just a little too eager.
Who was it?" he asked with a tight voice.
"A friend in Nam. My best friend."
"Best friend? Isn't that sweet. Are you sure?"
"Fuck, yes."
"Are you sure it wasn't Mulder?"
"Mulder? Hell no. It wasn't Mulder."
"I don't believe you, Walter."
"Well, I'm not lying." 
Krycek shifted over and got off the bed. He stood next to 
Skinner's ass. He trailed a finger over his buttocks. Skinner 
could feel him drag his finger through something wet. He knew 
it was blood.
Krycek reached over and grabbed Skinner's right leg chain and 
yanked it hard, looping it back around the bed post to take up 
the slack.
"Oh God," Skinner moaned.
Krycek repeated the process with the other one but as he gave 
the chain it's last pull to loop it he said, "I want you to tell me it 
was Mulder," in a low vicious voice.
He walked over and grabbing his jeans and briefs yanked them 
on. He picked up his belt and looped it around his good hand.
"What?" Skinner asked. He was dazed and in terrible searing 
pain from the rape and the several blows to his head. Despite 
the question, he was almost beyond caring now.
"Sinnuh, listen to me," Cracker Rand's drawl came quick and 
urgent into his mind.
"I'm trying, Cracker," Skinner replied.
"I tried to warn you to be quiet, son. But, it's too late now. 
Waltuh. This shitheel is gonna wail on you boy. Get ready. It's 
gonna be bad."
"I was afraid of that John..." Skinner replied in his mind. He 
gritted his teeth and waited for the first blow.
"I said I don't believe it wasn't Mulder, Walter. I want you to tell 
me the truth. Tell me it was Mulder."
Skinner looked up into Krycek's eyes for one last time. He 
decided to try again to forestall what was more than likely going 
to go down next.
"It was Mulder," he said, and then he closed his eyes tight.
"I thought so, you bald headed bastard," Krycek growled and 
then he hauled off and hit him hard across the face with the belt 
buckle.
Skinner heard the whistling swish the belt made as it flew 
through the air and then he felt the thudding impact as it 
connected with his cheek. It flayed open a large gash along his 
cheek bone. He began to bleed profusely. 
"John...help me...please..." Skinner called out to his friend.
"Waltuh, I'm right here. Take my hand. Just hang on, buddy. 
Help's on the way."
Skinner's breath came in gasps as Krycek left the head end of 
the bed and began to apply the whistling belt to his shoulders 
and back. He brought it crashing down again and again.
"JesusGod..." Skinner finally moaned, unable to hold the sound 
in any longer.
"I'll make you see them both in a minute, you cocksucker," 
Krycek sobbed. He was almost overcome with the effort to 
swing the belt and cope with his monumental sexual arousal.
He climbed back up on the bed. He straddled Skinner's thighs 
and then he brought the belt back with both hands and sent it 
crashing down on his ass and then his lower back with all his 
strength. He lifted it again and since by this time the belt was 
slick with blood it flew from his grasp and sailed back 
somewhere to land on the floor behind them.
Krycek gave out a high crazy laugh, "Fucking hell! I lost my 
bbbbelt."
Skinner was groaning now without even knowing it. The 
suffering and fear were just too overwhelming. He prayed for 
unconsciousness but it wouldn't come.
"Shut up!" Krycek shrieked. He reached forward and hit Skinner 
hard in the head with his prosthetic hand.
Skinner was silent then. He was beyond vocalization. But he 
could still talk in his head.
"John, I'm dying..." 
"No you're not Sinnuh. It's bad but you're not going to die unless 
you stop trying to live. Now he's hit you in the head one too 
many times - Ah know. He's scrambled your brains a bit. 
Concussion city, buddy. But you gotta try to stay focused. Stay 
awake. Ah swear on my Plain Aunt Jane, help is comin'."
"I'm so tired, Cracker..."
"Ah know, Waltuh. But you have to stay awake. Listen. Let's 
sing a song. You remembuh this one, don't you boy? You 
should. Ah sang it enough. Why don't you sing along with me, 
son."
John Rand sat back and began to sing, <Ooh, a storm is 
threatening my very life today. If I don't get some shelter, oh 
yeah I'm gonna fade away.> "Now you give me the next line, 
Sinnuh."
Walter Skinner struggled to think as Alex Krycek replaced his 
whizzing belt buckle with his fists. Krycek was busy pummeling 
Skinner's kidney area and rib cage with his hands when the title 
of the song Cracker Rand had been singing came to Skinner's 
mind. It was *Gimme Shelter* by the Rolling Stones. It HAD 
been Rand's favorite song. Skinner felt hot tears well up in his 
eyes as he repeated the next part of the lyrics to himself.
"War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away. War, 
children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away," he sang. 
The tears spilled down his cheeks and mixed with his blood.
Krycek was standing on the mattress now and as Walter 
Skinner and John Rand sang the lyrics to Gimme Shelter he 
drew his leg back and delivered a stunning blow to Skinner's rib 
cage.
Skinner screamed in torment as he felt a rib crack under 
Krycek's bare foot. As the foot connected Skinner heard 
Krycek's moan of pleasure and he knew his attacker had shot 
his wad in his tight Tommy Hilfiger jeans.
Krycek stopped abruptly and jumped down off the bed. He 
walked back up to the head of the bed and bent low to stare into 
Skinner's face. The Assistant Director was indeed a mess. His 
face was blood, vomit and tear stained. The rest of his body 
looked like someone had re-fought Vietnam all over it.
Krycek smiled, "Well Walter, so much for post coital cuddling, 
hey?"
Skinner moaned.
"Oh, I'm sorry, sore subject I guess," he laughed maniacally 
again. He bent to pick up the tape deck. It was still covered in 
puke. He made a face and straightened up again.
"On second thought, maybe I'll leave this here."
Skinner was floating between consciousness and 
unconsciousness. He could hear John Rand yelling at him, 
begging him to stay awake. He wasn't sure he could. He really 
did hope help was on the way. He didn't know how much longer 
he could last.
"Walter I have good news and bad news." Krycek was saying 
as he tried to wipe blood off his feet with the rag he had used on 
Skinner's face. He frowned slightly, tossed the rag aside and 
started to put on his socks and sneakers. He continued to talk.
"The good news is - since I couldn't get through to Mulder earlier 
- you're going to have to hang around a little longer until I do. 
We can have lots more fun while we wait. The bad news is I 
have to leave you for a few minutes to...freshen up. Oh, and 
yeah. I have to see a man about a car," He finished jamming his 
second sneaker on.
Skinner struggled back through the haze of pain, fear and 
humiliation at the mention of a car. He spoke and his voice was 
barely audible. It gurgled in this throat through blood. Skinner 
knew with grim and utter certainty that his broken rib had 
punctured a lung.
"What car?" he gasped. 
"Your car, Walter. Your Chevy Corvette. But, I gotta ask you. 
Did you ever see that movie, *Christine*?"
"Oh, Nooooo," Skinner moaned in anguish.
"Ah ha. I see you did. Well, Walter, you sit tight. I'll be back in a 
few minutes. Oh, and rest if you can. I'll try not to make too 
much noise." Krycek grabbed his leather coat from the end of 
the bed and shrugged it on. He whistled as he walked away 
from the bed towards the room's door.
Skinner's head sagged back down onto the mattress and he 
began to cry in earnest at the thought of what Krycek was about 
to do to his red '61 Chevy Corvette Convertible.
xXx
Alex Krycek sauntered out of Walter Skinner's prison and 
headed off to the bay where his Chevy was stored for the 
winter. He knew where it was because he and Marita had 
uncovered it one night and fucked like rabbits in the back seat. 
God that had been a rush. Marita really shouldn't have 
mentioned losing her virginity in the back of a car. But then 
again maybe she'd told him about it on purpose. Either way she 
had screamed for more when he'd put it to her. It had been 
really fine.
Krycek had considered getting some clean briefs and jeans out 
of his duffel bag. But he thought better of it when he 
contemplated the job ahead. Yup, smashing up Skinner's 
Chevy was probably going to give him another serious hard on 
anyway. He didn't need to shoot into a clean change of clothing.
He smiled as he collected the crow bar he'd stashed against the 
warehouse wall. He walked on.
The warehouse wasn't dark. It was early dawn now and the light 
was just spilling in through the grimy high placed warehouse 
windows. It gave Krycek enough light to see as he walked. He 
drew up to the bay where Skinner's car was parked. He walked 
forward and lifted the tarp that covered it. He pulled the tarp 
back completely and dropped it on the floor in back of the car.
As he walked back towards the car's hood, he ran his hand 
along the car's side in appreciation. It really was a beautiful 
machine. A shame to destroy it. Well, it couldn't be helped now. 
If Skinner just hadn't let Mulder fuck him..." Krycek frowned at 
the thought. He stepped back and focusing his gaze on one of 
the car's headlights he raised the crow bar back.
"Batter up!" he laughed. 
He heard a clicking sound and then the touch of a hard metallic 
object on the back of his skull.
"Move and you're a dead man, Alex."
"Mulder..." Krycek crooned low in his throat.
"Hold your arms up high, higher. Stretch them up. That's good. 
Now - hold that crow bar real tight."
Krycek felt Mulder pat him down quickly. He shut his eyes and 
savored the sensation of Mulder's hand between his legs.
Mulder pulled his gun from his shoulder holster. He sensed 
rather than saw Mulder jam the gun into the top of his jeans. 
Krycek was sorry he'd left his knife in the other room.
"Scully!" Mulder called. Dana Scully stepped out from behind a 
post. She had her gun trained on Krycek's head.
"Ah ha, the second half of the dynamic duo," Krycek sneered.
"Where's Skinner?" Scully hissed in anger.
Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Ok, I guess this is End Game," he 
thought, "to the victor belongs the Skinner." He almost giggled. 
He'd have to make an attempt to escape. He figured by splitting 
up *Batman and Robinette* he'd have a better chance at that 
plan.
"Back that way," Krycek answered, "There's an unused office in 
the back," he added with a gesture of his head.
"Scully, check it out," Mulder said without taking his eyes off 
Krycek. He stepped back a bit. He still kept his gun trained on 
him.
"I'm on it," Scully replied heading away towards Skinner's 
prison.
"Can we talk about this, Fox?" Krycek whispered, "We can 
make a deal can't we?"
"Fuck you, Alex," Mulder hissed.
"I only wish," Krycek sighed to himself.
"Why?" Mulder asked suddenly.
"Why what?"
"Why all this, Alex?" 
"I think you know, Mulder," Krycek sneered.
Mulder sighed. Oh yeah. He knew. But he was going to make it 
all right now. He wanted to even the playing field.
"Mulder, my arm's getting tired holding up this crow bar."
"Drop it then, Alex. But do it slowly," Mulder answered. He 
reached for the handcuffs on his belt.
"MULDER!!!" Scully's scream reached him from all the way in 
the back of the building.
Just as she screamed Krycek spun around and hit Mulder's gun 
hand with the crow bar. It wasn't a hard smack, just enough to 
knock the gun away. He gave Mulder a slightly harder smack in 
the shoulder and Mulder went down. Krycek turned and ran. 
Mulder was up quickly, retrieved his gun, and started to pursue 
the fleeing man. Krycek had disappeared somewhere amongst 
the tarp covered stored cars.
"MULDER! PLEASE, I NEED YOUR HELP!" Scully was 
screaming again. Mulder's mouth went tight. He was going to 
have to let Krycek go. He decided to do it and he re-holstered 
his weapon and ran in the opposite direction towards the sound 
of Scully's voice.
xXx
Dana Scully bent over Walter Skinner's battered body. She was 
trying to pull her cell phone out and examine him at the same 
time. She checked his vitals. His pulse was weak and thready. 
She rolled an eyelid back. "Concussion," she thought instantly. 
She didn't want to touch his body. From the look of things he 
probably had internal injuries. He most likely had at least a 
broken rib if the livid purple bruise on his rib cage and ragged 
gurgling breathing were any indication. She succeeded in 
manhandling her cell phone out of her coat pocket. She dialed 
911.
Mulder came dashing into the room.
"Oh Shit!"
"Mulder come over here," Scully was saying and then she was 
barking instructions into the phone to the 911 operator. She 
concluded the call and put her cell phone back in her pocket.
"God Scully," Mulder whispered. He looked into Scully's face. 
She had on her Doctor Dana Scully expression, but underneath 
it was gut wrenching fear.
"Mulder, he's injured very badly. I...I hope the ambulance gets 
here in time."
"Is there anything you can do for him?"
"No, we just have to wait for the paramedics."
Skinner groaned suddenly. Scully knelt down next to the bed at 
his head. She gently touched his forehead and stroked it, 
"Sir...Walter...it's Scully. It...it's Dana. Don't move, Walter. An 
ambulance is on the way. Can you hear me? Lie still."
"Ddddana? Where's Cracker?" he whispered through his split 
lip.
"Cracker?"
"Where's Jjjjohn..." he whimpered.
"I'm right here, Waltuh," Mulder replied in a quiet, gentle drawl.
"Scully glanced up into Mulder's hazel eyes. There was a far 
away look in them. Scully's hair went up on the back of her 
neck. She stood up and moved back. Mulder walked over and 
knelt down where she'd been kneeling.
"I'm here, Sinnuh," Mulder whispered. He placed his hand on 
Skinner's head and stroked it tenderly, "Don't talk now. Lie 
quiet. You gotta conserve your strength."
Skinner's mouth twitched into a tiny smile. Then he coughed 
violently, "I thought you left me, Cracker..." he choked.
"I'd nevuh do that Waltuh. I'm here buddy. Hang on," he rubbed 
between Skinner's shoulders and his coughing subsided.
Mulder looked back over his shoulder up into Scully's face, 
"Say, Red. Could you go down and watch for that Med Evac. 
Those corpsman might have trouble finding us in here."
Scully's eyes went wide. She was looking into Fox Mulder's 
face but Fox Mulder wasn't at home at the moment. Someone 
else was looking out through his sad hazel eyes. Someone 
much younger, with a Georgia twang.
"Uh, Yes - I can do that...Cracker," she whispered.
Mulder's mouth pulled up into a goofy appreciative grin, "Thank 
you Dana. Foxhunt's a very lucky man." He turned back to 
stare at Skinner. He stroked his forehead. "Thank you, ma'am. 
Ah... Ah know Waltuh thanks you too," he added quietly.
And as Scully turned to go, Mulder began to croon an old 
Rolling Stones song into Walter Skinner's bloody ear.
xXx
Leonard Johnson stood in the hallway door of the sun room in 
the *Holy Respite Psychiatric Center* and surveyed the crowd. 
Jack Martin stood at his side. It was a happy crowd Leonard 
thought. A crowd of people getting ready to make the transition 
from respite to real life again. Leonard smiled. 
"Now you see, Jack, these folks are doing fine. They're going 
home tomorrow, most of them. Except that big guy. He's going 
home today."
"The bald headed dude with the glasses over by the window?"
"Yeah."
"Are those his family members?"
"The red head and the tall guy?"
"Yeah."
"No, those are his agents. I mean they're FBI agents."
"His agents?" This was Jack Martin's first day on the job at 
*Holy Respite*. Leonard was his supervisor. He supervised all 
the orderlies. It was his job to give Jack his orientation. Leonard 
ran a hand over his dark face. He chuckled slightly.
"Yes. That's Walter S. Skinner. Mr. Skinner is an Assistant 
Director at the FBI. He's their boss."
"God, that red head's an FBI agent?"
"Yes, and a doctor too. Forensic pathologist as a matter of fact."
"Jesus, I'm in the wrong job," Jack laughed.
"Watch your mouth, son," Leonard answered gesturing towards 
the nun circulating around the room, "The sisters don't 
appreciate that kind of language. 
"Sorry."
Leonard smiled and nodded his head.
"So Mr. Skinner is going home today. How long has he been 
here?" Jack asked.
"Six months."
"Whoa."
"Well he spent eight weeks in the regular hospital. He was 
beaten senseless I guess - wounded in the line of duty as they 
say. Almost died. His body healed up and they were just about 
ready to release him from Georgetown Medical when blam - he 
hared out."
"Went ballistic? Why?" 
"Combination of things. It seemed he was raped as well as 
beaten. That and the PTSD sent him over the edge rather 
suddenly I gather. It took six orderlies to subdue him at 
Georgetown. He was on a Thorazine drip when they brought 
him here."
"PTSD? The guy's a vet?" 
"Yup," Leonard answered running a hand over his closely 
cropped afro, "Class of '73 - just like me," he added nodding his 
head.
"That must have been rough," Jack replied.
Leonard knew he meant Skinner's hare-out and subsequent 
restraint in the drool ward at the clinic. But it fit the war 
experience too.
"How come he's here and not in the Vet's hospital psyche 
ward?"
"Well, the tall guy over there - evidently he's got connections in 
congress. Some senator authorized Walter's transfer to *Holy 
Respite*. Arranged for him to take a medical leave of absence 
and retain his old job so he can go back to the Bureau when he 
gets out. He's been in my, the nun's and the shrink's care ever 
since he got here, though. I like him, Jack. He's a really decent 
guy now that he's healthy again. But for a while there he was in 
a very bad way."
"What brought him back?" 
"That was strange, actually." He was very uncommunicative 
even after they took him off the drugs. He just used to sit in that 
sun room and stare out the window. Well, one day the radio was 
on in there. One of those classic rock stations. I was sitting 
across from Mr. Skinner, trying to get him to talk. He was just 
sitting and staring. Well finally, a Stones song came on that 
radio."
"The Rolling Stones? Great group."
"Yeah, they still rock," Leonard agreed, "At any rate - this old 
Stones tune, *Gimme Shelter* came on the radio. Well, Mr. 
Skinner stopped staring out the window and he sort of cocked 
his head. I knew he was hearing the music. I asked him if he 
liked that song. He said, "Cracker liked that song," and then he 
started to cry, Jack. Cracker was his best friend in Nam, I 
guess. Uh, his dead, killed in action, best friend. At any rate, the 
tears just came running down his cheeks. After that he started 
to talk and it was up hill all the way from that day in the sun 
room.
"Man..." Jack whistled. 
"Yeah, it was just one of the good things you see in this job 
every once in a while. He's going home later today. I'll be happy 
as hell but kind of sad to see him go. He plays a hell of a game 
of gin rummy. Leonard chuckled under his breath.
Jack nodded his head. He watched as the tall man and the red 
head got up to leave. Walter Skinner stood up and shook the tall 
man's hand. After he let go the red head stepped forward and 
hesitating just a moment, hugged Skinner around the waist. The 
older man acted slightly surprised and stood a little stiffly. The 
tall guy laughed. The red head laughed as well and then she let 
go and stepped back.
Jack watched as they crossed the sun room towards the 
entrance opposite. They stepped through. Skinner sat back 
down at the table by the window and picked up the book he had 
been reading before his guests had come in.
Almost as soon as he picked up the book a rather attractive 
blonde pushed carefully through the glass doors Mulder and 
Scully had just exited through.
"Who is she?" Jack Martin asked with appreciation in his voice.
"Whoa, *hoss*, rein it in. She's visited him almost every week 
since he's been in here. She spent plenty of days sitting across 
from him when he was doing his sightseeing act. I think she's 
taken buddy. I think Mr. Walter Skinner has someone waiting 
for him when he gets back to the real world.
xXx
Walter Skinner stretched and picked up the book on the 
Corvette Museum that he had been reading. He grinned a bit. It 
had been nice to see Mulder and Scully. They told him 
everything was going fine at the Bureau. He'd be glad to get 
back into the office on Monday. Sure, he'd have some follow up 
care with Pete Marovitch's group at the VA but his prognosis 
was excellent now. He thought it was high time he got back to 
work. He needed to interview candidates for the Executive 
Assistant position since Kimberly had tendered her resignation 
he thought. Mulder said there had been a lot of resumes mailed 
in for the job.
Skinner heard someone approach his chair. He looked up from 
the book he was about to read. He smiled. The blonde woman 
smiled back.
"How are you doing today? Feels great to be going home 
doesn't it?"
"You've got that right, Kimberly. Hey, sit down..." he indicated 
the chair next to him.
"Thanks. I see your reading the book. Is it interesting? I thought 
it looked good when I bought it."
"Yeah, it's great. I...I'd really like to take a trip to actually see this 
place," he replied lifting the book up slightly. He placed it 
carefully down on the table.
"Good, I'm glad you like it, sir."
They sat together in companionable silence for a moment. 
Skinner studied Kimberly's face. He had never noticed her eyes 
before. She had brown eyes. They were sort of a caramel 
color. Not dark like his. They were the color of maple syrup. 
They were soft and kind. Skinner smiled.
"So, they're springing you at what time?" Kimberly asked 
smiling back.
"I'm due to have my exit interview at 1 PM, I guess. Then it's 
hasta la vista Sisters of Mercy."
"How are you getting home, sir?"
"Oh, I figured I'd just take a cab."
"All the way to Crystal City? That will cost you an arm and a 
leg."
Skinner chuckled, "Don't worry about it - the Bureau will spring 
for it later."
"Well, listen. Why don't you let me take you home. I can go run 
some errands and then come back at 1. How would that be?"
Skinner looked into her face again. He felt a pleasant feeling fill 
his chest, "I don't want you to go to any trouble, Kim."
"Oh, don't be silly, it isn't any trouble. This is Saturday. I don't 
have any classes and no plans. You know I'd be happy to do 
anything for you Mr. Skinner." 
"All right, that would be just fine, Kim. I'd appreciate the ride."
"Good," Kimberly reached forward and touched Skinner on the 
forearm."
Skinner brought his hand over and covered hers where it 
rested. He took her hand in his and stroked her fingers. 
Kimberly looked from their entwined hands up into the lenses of 
his identical but new spectacles. The replacement pair she had 
picked up for him from LensCrafters so many months before. 
"Kimberly - I...I want to thank you for everything," Skinner 
whispered.
"It was all my pleasure, sir. And like I said - I would have done 
everything I could to help. Anything."
"Well, I do have two other things I'd like you to do," Skinner said, 
smiling into her eyes.
"Just ask, sir."
"Can we stop for coffee on the way to my apartment? The 
coffee in this place was horrible. I'm desperate for a decent cup 
of coffee."
Kimberly laughed, "Oh sure...no problem. I could really use the 
caffeine myself. But you said two things..."
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Would you call me, Walter, Kim. The *sir* stuff is getting kind 
of old," he smiled at her and the smile traveled all the way up to 
his eyes.
"I think I can manage that Walter...I really think I can." Kimberly 
Cook answered, softly. She let all the love she felt for Skinner 
show in her eyes. She squeezed his hand.
Walter Skinner smiled even wider and in the back of his mind 
he could just barely hear a soft Southern drawl singing. The 
voice sounded joyously happy, and Skinner heard it clearly 
even as the voice began to fade away:
Ooh, a storm is threatening my very life today 
If I don't get some shelter, oh yeah I'm gonna fade away 
War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin, our very streets today 
Burns like a red coal carpet, mad bull lost its way 
Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
Rape, murder, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
Mmm, the flood is threatening, my very life today 
Gimme, gimme shelter, or I'm gonna fade away 
War, children, it's just a shot away, it's just a shot away 
It's just a shot away, it's just a thaught away, it's just a shot away
I said, love, sister, it's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away 
It's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away, kiss away, kiss away, 
yeah
DISCLAIMER #2: Ok, Alex Kyrchek alias twisted psycho 
bastard also belongs to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions 
and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement 
is intended and no profit is being made from his use, either. The 
lyrics to "Gimme Shelter" belong to Mick Jagger, Keith 
Richards and BMI records. Once again no copyright 
infringement is intended etc. etc. Thanks for putting up with 
these hidden disclaimers. I love a surprise and I hope you do 
too. 
-THE END OF THE WHOLE STORY-