BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (1/3)by Sean Spencer
seans13@hotmail.com


CATEGORY:  SRA

RATING:  NC-17 Slash (Sk/M)

WARNING:  Explicit but always loving consensual sex between members of
the same sex.

SPOILERS:  none

KEYWORDS:  Skinner/Mulder, Slash

ATXC:  no

ARCHIVE:  yes

SUMMARY:  The six-year honeymoon is over as Mulder and Skinner really
start living together.  Bombers, books and boxes abound.  As do cookies
and chocolate.


DISCLAIMER:  Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder and Dana Scully are the
intellectual property of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions and FOX.
Neither infringement nor copyright is implied or should be inferred
from their use in this work of fiction.  All other characters are mine.


The FBI Director Louis Freeh appears here in a FICTIONAL capacity only.
Words coming from his mouth are my creation.


AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I'm back, folks out there in fanfic land.  I now have PC access after a
lull of exactly 27 days.  It's very hard not to have a PC when you have
all these ideas running in your head.  I still have quite a few
Baccarat Fragments and Baccarat Pieces to write but RL and lack of PC
access does get in the way.


As in all the other Baccarat Figurines stories, this one begins almost
immediately after Baccarat Figurines III.

Please be reminded that the Baccarat universe veers off after season
two so no Skinner getting nightmares about old nasty ladies while
sleeping with women he picks up in bars(?!), no bathrooms cleaned, and
no mace on his poor face.   Unfortunately, he doesn't get to beat up
Krycek nor cuff him to the balcony.  Mulder likewise doesn't get to hug
and kiss Scully in cold hospital corridors while Scully in this
universe never gets cancer.  Eddie Van Blundht never graces Mulder's
apartment, either.


Mulder, however, gets obsessed with Skinner's shoes.





CHAPTER ONE

VISIONAL SCAN


Walter Skinner regretfully closed the door of their "other" apartment
on the tenth floor.  He then rode up the elevator back to the
seventeenth floor.  He made a few more phone calls, trying to clear up
and understand the mess.  From what he gathered, Ashcraft and his
family with two young girls were away for the weekend.  The bomb was
small, but still did considerable damage to their garage and the girls'
bedroom, which was situated above the garage.  The fire was controlled
now and evidence was being gathered.


However, from the initial reports of the bomb squad, the same type of
bomb was used in New York. Furthermore, the small militia group had
called the local police and claimed responsibility for it.


Prompt as ever, the security team arrived within the hour as promised.
They did the standard sweep, checking of the phone lines, familiarizing
themselves with the layout of Skinner's apartment and building.  There
were three of them, two of whom the DD knew quite well and had been in
his detail a few months back.  He tried not to flinch as they
thoroughly covered the apartment, looking out the windows to see if
there were any buildings across the street to be worried about.  One of
them was now attaching
surveillance equipment on his phones with the ever amiable
Taylor looking on with interest.


This was the first time that any of his bodyguard detail ever came up
here, save for that fateful night with Gutierrez.  He knew that it was
just standard precautions but at the same time, because he had so much
to hide, he just couldn't help feeling somewhat violated.


The men were slightly taken aback when Skinner had barked at them when
they even checked Mulder's study.  He was tense that they might find
some implicating things in the mess, that somehow, they might glean
whose room it was because quite a few of the larger books were about
alien encounters, ghosts (a present from Uncle Charles), and crop
circles. There was even a telltale bag of sunflower seeds by the
computer. To Skinner it was as if the whole place had a big sign that
said, "Fox Mulder owns this room!" None of the three men however seemed
to notice those small details.


Skinner, of course, was now going back to work. Two of the men led him
to the car. From now on until they decided to lighten up security,
Skinner would always have two security escorts every time he left the
house.  And when he was home, one would always be within the "domicile"
as they called it to check phone calls and people who went to the
apartment while the other one would stay at the apartment entrance to
keep an eye out. The third man, Agent Smith, was their superior and had
just wanted to be filled in on the details of Skinner's household.


The next few days kept Skinner on his toes so much that his apartment
was just a place to stay for a few hours of shuteye.  The agent for the
night was given the den to stay in.  Skinner was able to call Mulder
only once at his apartment. The Deputy Director had to use his
cellphone so that security was unaware of the call.  As expected,
during times like these, when they were separated, Mulder buried
himself in work to distract himself. Security was as tight as ever for
the next two weeks.


But with his work slowing down as the investigations already had a
momentum of its own, Skinner found himself slumped in the den with a
drink in his hand.  It was already ten in the evening and he sure was
missing Mulder's warm body.  He looked over at the snoring Agent
Delaney and grimaced. Although he was able to establish rapport with
his security men, the most difficult thing to accept was the need for
having these men and women in his apartment during the nights.



The doorbell rang.  That would be Delaney's replacement. Seeing that
the agent was still snoring away, Skinner resignedly stood up and
answered the door.  He gave a start when he saw that it was Gutierrez.


It had been sometime since Gutierrez was assigned to him. He greeted
the agent affably; he was the only one he was really comfortable with
because Gutierrez was the only one who knew about him and Mulder.
Gutierrez seemed mortified to find Delaney sleeping on the job and
kicked the more junior agent's leg impatiently.


"Sir, I'm going to be on the night shift every three days," Gutierrez
pointedly said with a solemn face.  He was still shaking Delaney awake.
The more junior agent finally awoke, embarrassed to have been found out
sleeping on the job. Skinner thanked the groggy agent with an ironic
tone in his voice and eagerly saw him off.


Gutierrez looked at him expectantly once Delaney left. Skinner stared
back at the agent and thought of what to do. Frankly, all he could
think of was that Mulder had been all alone for the past two weeks
downstairs on the tenth floor.


"If you will excuse me, I'll just go down to...to see Mulder," Skinner
said intent on going down to the tenth floor.


"But, sir, once you leave this apartment, I'd have to follow you,"
Agent Gutierrez gently reminded him, that his job description at the
moment required that he was to follow the Deputy Director once he left
his domicile.


Skinner nodded grimly and picked up the phone instead. Gutierrez
excused himself back to the den and stayed there with Taylor, stepping
out briefly to check that it was Agent Mulder indeed who rang the
doorbell a scant five minutes later. It felt very good to have Mulder
back in Skinner's arms again.


By now, Mulder couldn't care less about the presence of another person
in the apartment.  All he wanted was to sleep in his own bed beside
Skinner. The apartment downstairs only had a couch and it was a stark
reminder for Mulder of his living alone in Hegal Place years ago.


Once their bedroom door was securely closed behind them,
all clothing was divested as fast as they could and refamiliarizing
with each other's mouths, necks, chests, abdomens, arms, legs, and all
the other important parts ensued. Gasps and groans, clamped down
through clenched teeth, were muted but no less exciting if heard by any
voyeur.


Mulder was underneath Skinner in no time, wriggling and writhing as
their union grew more heated. It just felt so good to have this
unexpected rendezvous. As it was, Mulder had been resigned for the past
two weeks that the tightened security was going to last for quite a
while and he was reduced to twiddling his thumbs in front of the small
television downstairs.  That was why he had practically run up here
when Skinner had called to say that it was Gutierrez on duty.  All
reservations about seeing Skinner in the presence of Bureau personnel
were pushed aside because he wanted to banish the hollow feeling he
always had in his stomach whenever Skinner was away from him.


Each push and withdrawal of Skinner's member up his nether parts were
eliciting groans, especially the withdrawal part which was the one that
Mulder found was more satisfying. For each pull of his lover's member,
Mulder groaned as he tried to clamp down on him, so that each loved
inch could be gripped.  It drove Skinner wild; he tried to take his
time, but it was all for naught.  He just couldn't help it as the
tactile reality of having Mulder back in his arms was overwhelming him.
He buried his nose in Mulder's hair, wanting more than anything to just
melt into the younger man.


"Oh...Fox," Skinner inhaling deeply of his lover's scent.


He came before he wanted to, quite aware that Mulder was still to reach
orgasm.  Mulder didn't mind, instead turning in the cramped space
underneath Skinner, the latter's softened moist penis smearing along
his thigh and hip.  It was always made him feel even more special
sometimes when Skinner came before him, because it just meant that
Skinner was so hot for him.  That was always flattering.  Mulder held
his lover close to him as Skinner's own shuddering ceased.




"Sorry about..." Skinner whispered, but Mulder's fingers went over his
lips to shush him.





"It's okay," Mulder murmured.  He didn't want Skinner to apologize.
Somehow, they rolled on the bed and Mulder ended up on top, skin to
skin, their hearts thudding in their chests which even seemed to be in
rhythm. Then for the first time in their years together, not counting
the single time when Skinner was briefly selfish when he first became
Deputy Director, the older man fell asleep with Mulder still hard
between them. And for the first time in his life, ever since he had a
sex life, Mulder didn't mind.


The agent ached, of course, but just being together was enough for him.
He was, in fact, hungry but he didn't want to go wandering downstairs
where Gutierrez was.  It still gave him the creeps that so many people
were now familiar with their apartment.  Still naked, Mulder
reluctantly got off his sleeping lover and, after cleaning up in the
bathroom, puttered around in Skinner's bureau.  He knew that there were
stashes of chocolates there, which Skinner claimed he kept there for
Mulder's sake, still not wanting to admit that he was a chocoholic.
Mulder grinned when he saw a big bar of Nestle's Crunch.  He also
noticed that the older man's chocolate stash was becoming more
elaborate.  He laughed quietly that there was even a chocolate bunny
left over from last Easter.  Skinner got it bad.



Mulder went back to bed under the covers.  His erection had now
subsided to a more comfortable proportion and didn't distract him as he
unwrapped the Crunch and broke off pieces as he ate it, watching
television at a low volume.  He was surprised when the chocolate was
all gone in such a short time.  That would only reinforce Skinner's
erroneous observation that it was for Mulder that he kept the treat in
the bedroom.


Suddenly, turning his head, the agent noted new lines on Skinner's face
even in repose.  The last two weeks were hard on him, with the
increased workload and the tensions of having to live apart and having
to watch his every move with people perpetually underfoot in the
apartment. Mulder was abruptly aware of Skinner's age and he was
inexplicably upset.


The Deputy Director was past fifty now, although he was very fit.
People Skinner's age died all the time, even those who took care of
themselves like his lover did.



The chocolate was now a leaden weight in Mulder's stomach;
statistically, Skinner would most likely die before him
and leave him all alone. Although the passage of time had been kind to
the Deputy Director, gray strands were now evident in his temples and
on the hair of his chest and pubis. He didn't feel it important to dye
his hair. Right now, the older man was sleeping soundly, buried in the
three pillows he preferred. He had kicked off the covers in slumber and
his well-shaped leg was exposed. Mulder sat up and tenderly put the
covers over him.

It took Mulder a while to get to sleep, his unnamed anxieties eating
away at him.


All thoughts of Skinner's mortality, however, were
forgotten early the next morning.  It was still dark outside when
Mulder felt someone nudging him awake.


"Fox, hey, Fox," Mulder heard a voice and sat up abruptly, thinking
that he was still in the tenth floor apartment, his head bumping into
Skinner's nose in his haste.


"Ow!" the older man exclaimed.  Fortunately, nothing was broken or
bloodied.  Mulder was looking around confusedly then remembered that he
was back in their apartment and that it was five in the morning.


"Why'd you wake me so early?" Mulder asked blinking in the lamplight.


"Come on," Skinner said, kissing Mulder on the chin.  "The next shift
is at six and you have to get out of here before Gutierrez leaves us. I
want you now, honey.  It'll be two days before we get to be together
again."


Mulder kissed Skinner's nose in apology and gasped when he felt the
older man's hand on his penis.


"Right there, Walter! Please keep it..." he couldn't finish as his
lover stroked him. Mulder's morning erection was now rock hard under
Skinner's knowing hand. Mulder gave himself up to sensation, vaguely
noting that Skinner had turned back the covers and had lain beside him,
looking down at his body with his hand perpetually busy on the younger
man.


It didn't take long for Mulder to get aroused, because he hadn't come
in two whole weeks.  The only person who ever really loved him was now
sitting up on the bed and was reaching for something.  Then Mulder was
suddenly aware of Skinner putting something cold and wet in his hand.
The agent opened his eyes and saw that the older man had put Astroglide
on it. Automatically, Mulder reached down for Skinner and was about to
go for his lover's penis.


"No, Fox," Skinner said, taking Mulder's hand and putting it on his own
crotch.  "I want you to make yourself come. I'll watch."


"What?" Mulder stared back at him dumbly; it was after all early
morning and his comprehension still left a lot to be desired no matter
how high his IQ.


"Make yourself come for me, Fox," Skinner whispered in his ear and
started kissing and sucking his earlobe.


Mulder looked uncertainly at the DD.  He'd never masturbated in front
of anyone before, not discounting the times when he'd touched himself
while Skinner was inside him.  Mulder then looked down at his hand
again, which was glistening with the lubricant.


"I want to see you come, honey," Skinner repeated.

To speed things up, after all they only had a scant hour, the older man
put his hand on Mulder's and helped him along in the beginning.  Mulder
was doing it halfheartedly, still highly uncomfortable at first.  For
him, masturbation if done by your own hand was a solitary activity, and
having someone watching him, even if it was Skinner, felt as if he was
getting caught, like some immature kid especially with the lights on.
The older man saw that Mulder was again inhibited and thought of
something to do. Skinner stood up and opened the closet door, which had
a mirror on its other side.  He then positioned himself such that he
was leaning against the headboard and gathered Mulder into his arms so
that both of them were visible on the mirror, but Mulder's body was the
one fully visible.



"I want to see you and I want to you to see yourself, baby," Skinner
urged him.  "Come on, you can do better than that. It's just the two of
us here, like always."


"That's it...see how big you're getting..." Mulder had a clear view of
his nude body leaning against Skinner.  He could feel the older man's
erection against his back.  As he started getting into the spirit of
what he was doing, he felt his hand enclose his penis into the most
familiar stroke of all.  Of course, no matter how good one's lover was,
the only one who could stimulate yourself the way you really wanted to
was your own self. He was starting to feel less shy as Skinner
whispered more encouraging words in his ears.  Skinner's tongue licking
his ear also helped a lot.


"It's just the two of us here, Fox, and I want you to love yourself for
me," Skinner encouraged the younger man.


Skinner smiled kindly at him as he saw Mulder start to squirm against
him, such that his own erection bumped against the agent's back.  He
knew that it was all right when he saw Mulder's eyes closing in
pleasure as he pleasured his own body.  Skinner watched Mulder's hand,
noting how differently each of them held their own members. Mulder was
now furiously masturbating and was quite aroused. Whenever his own eyes
opened, he saw himself, now moist with a fine sheen of sweat, leaning
against Skinner while enclosed in his arms. Skinner reached his hand to
Mulder's scrotum and gently cradled the now swollen testicles.


"You're so big now, Fox,"  Skinner murmured into the agent's ear.

Mulder panted as he felt his lover's kind hand on his scrotum, quietly
accepting the way he was stimulating himself.


Somehow, being allowed to pleasure, to love himself, while his own
lover was there for him was catching up with Mulder.  It felt
different, but still felt good. Very good.  The agent allowed himself
to gasp and groan without inhibition.


"That's it, Fox, that's what I want to hear," Skinner smiled at him
gently, both of them looking in the mirror now. Skinner's other hand
was now reaching for his small nipple. The DD could see Mulder's legs
rigid before him and his toes curling as the his now unsolitary
pleasure was instead making him feel so open and vulnerable but still
oddly cherished.


But with his body's needs catching up to the two-week lack of coming,
Mulder felt the pace of his own hand
increasing. He was fully into it now as Skinner cupped
him.  Then he groaned heavily as he had his orgasm.  As he spurted, he
vaguely was aware that Skinner's lips were on his neck. Mulder was
still catching his breath and luxuriating in the feeling of closeness
when he felt Skinner's burgeoning erection.



"I want you in me now, Walter," Mulder said, glancing at the bedside
clock.  It was weird having to hurry, to have a deadline.  Both of them
shifted positions and Skinner finally had him underneath with his legs
parted.  The mirror was forgotten by this time.  Both of them moaned at
their bodies' joining, and Skinner had to close his eyes as the
pleasure suffused every inch of his being.


He ran his hands over Mulder's hair and neck, kissing every inch of the
agent's skin, the skin he could reach.


"God, you smell so good," Skinner whispered, his bristling cheek
tickling Mulder's neck.  The pulling and the pushing, the thrusting and
the withdrawing, each of them felt so close to each other.  Finally,
Skinner couldn't take it anymore and grunted as he ejaculated.


"Thanks, Fox."


They reluctantly pulled apart and Mulder hurriedly took a shower and
got dressed in sweats.  Once out of the bathroom, he saw that Skinner
had put on his dressing gown.


"I'll check if the coast is clear," Skinner gruffly said.


He went downstairs and saw that Gutierrez still remained in the den.
Mulder followed and before they parted, Mulder kissed the older man.
Skinner didn't miss the agent's creased forehead and the closed
expression on his face.


As Skinner shut the door, he shook his head ruefully. Somehow,
everything seemed bizarre.  It was just like in college when he was
sneaking girls out of his room and making sure no one was the wiser for
it.  Here he was fifty years old and he was still essentially at it.
Maybe some things just never change but he was too old for this.



The frustrations incurred by the present set up suddenly came to a
head. It took all of Skinner's will power to stop from yelling at the
next agent who happened to be there at the wrong place but at the right
time, exactly at six o'clock.


Gutierrez scratched his head in extreme puzzlement as it became obvious
that the DD was angry.  Skinner marched upstairs in a huff once the
replacement agent was let in.


Gutierrez and Agent Harris then did the drill of handing over the
watch. As Gutierrez left the apartment, he was still going over
everything he did and wondered what went wrong with Skinner. Did he and
Agent Mulder get into a fight?  Did they feel that he invaded their
privacy? After all, he had stayed in the den the whole night. He
wondered if it had been right volunteering for this assignment and
choosing the night shift. When he'd heard that the DD had 24 hours
security, Gutierrez had taken pity on them, especially after seeing
Mulder's morose countenance in the parking lot. Now Gutierrez didn't
know what to feel.


CHAPTER TWO

MAGIC SWEETS


The close security watch on the Bureau's key personnel lasted for one
and  a half months. Although he was preoccupied with the official
investigation of the militia bombings, Skinner was climbing up the wall
by the first few days and was ready to throttle anyone who crossed his
path. Kimberly was in a tizzy and didn't know why her boss was forever
in a bad mood. It seemed that every time something went wrong, no
matter how minor, Skinner would call her in and reprimand her.


Fortunately, Skinner was a fair man and zapped everyone in his way, not
just Kimberly.  It got so that Assistant Directors quaked in their
shoes whenever he called a meeting. Almost every sentence emitted by
the Deputy Director dripped with sarcasm and occasionally, to
Kimberly's dismay, venom.
She had never seen him like this before and surmised that it might be a
mid life crisis.


But shouldn't he be past that by now?  When was mid life anyway?  Maybe
it was due to the lack of a wife, she concluded and thought about how
she could remedy this.


Nothing worked.  She used to be able to cheer him up by baking her
monster chocolate chip cookies.  Her husband and kids were crazy about
them and to her delight, even her boss was. Giving Skinner one or two
whenever she felt that a bad blow up was forthcoming used to keep the
dark clouds away from his face. Only a few personnel knew of the magic
of her chocolate chip cookies and when Skinner was an AD, Agent Scully
used to supply her with packets of the chocolate chips so that Kimberly
could bake a steady supply of the confection.



But lately, the cookies seemed to have lost their magic powers.


Finally, just when Kimberly was seriously thinking of setting up  her
boss with a blind date, since she was that desperate, a breakthrough
occurred in the militia bombings. It was then that Skinner seemed to
regain his even temper and was back to work with renewed zeal. Although
he worked sixteen to eighteen hour days, paradoxically he was less
grumpy. Even after years of working for him, Kimberly still could not
understand her boss sometimes. And when the suspects were identified
and rounded up, that  was when Skinner started smiling again at her.
She knew that he rarely smiled at other people at work. That was what
made that genuine rare smile so special.

Then when she gave him a whole batch of cookies to take home with him,
and when he really laughed, that was when Kimberly knew that the
cookies were magical again.



The 24 hour tight security was finally called off. Skinner broke with
his usual caution for once and called Mulder at work down in the
basement to tell him the good news.


Scully could see the tension go out of Mulder's shoulders
as he listened over the phone.  She could tell that Mulder was talking
to Skinner, by the way his voice sounded.  She knew about their
intolerable living situation for the past month and commiserated with
him. But it was quite pleasant for her when her partner had to live by
himself in the tenth floor once again. For a while, they got back to
working on their reports late into the night a few times, just like in
the old days. The Pooh bear even looked over them as they worked, just
like when they used to do the same thing in the Hegal Place apartment.
Somehow, it was a nostalgic time in their lives as partners.


"I'm glad, Mulder, you can go home now," Scully said to her partner
once the agent put down the phone.  The transformation on his face was
remarkable, she had to admit. His eyes were shining and he wasn't
crouched over the desk in misery like before.  She saw him look at his
watch three times.


It was only three thirty.


"Okay, Mulder, I'll hold the fort here," she said.  "You go home and
have a good homecoming."


"Thanks, Scully, I owe you one," Mulder didn't waste anytime getting
the papers on his desk somewhat straightened and rushed out the door
without pulling on his coat.  She smiled amused that he almost seemed
to run out of the room. She knew about Mulder's and Skinner's problem
of having to sneak around, that they were  only able to meet whenever
Gutierrez was on duty. Kimberly had even called her to find a solution
to Skinner's uncharacteristic bouts of rage at the world but Scully had
to keep her silence.



"I don't know, Kim, I have no idea why this has been happening," Scully
said innocently, rolling her eyes at Kimberly's simplistic notion that
what her boss needed was a woman.  Scully had wanted to yell at her,
What he needs is a MAN! But she could only sympathize with Kimberly's
plight.


After all, she herself had often wondered if she would have found out
about her partner and Skinner if it hadn't been for that car crash. She
could still remember looking dumbly in disbelief at her partner's chart
on that fateful day. Usually, one just overlooked the personal history
stuff; after all, Mulder had a straightforward illness, a flail chest.
However, the portions in the chart she normally skipped suddenly stood
out.  It was the phrase "monogamous" that caused her scanning eyes to
slow down.  What followed, "homosexual relationship, anal receptive
practices" caused her to draw in her breath.  As she walked numbly out
of the ICU and saw Skinner huddled pitifully on the uncomfortable
straight backed chairs, everything fell into place.


She only asked Mulder once about why not tell the world who his lover
was, why both Skinner and Mulder felt it important to stay in the
closet.  It was on a case in North Dakota, even before the militia
bombings, where each of them were lonely for their own lovers.  They
had to stay longer than expected in another backwoods town. They were
in a greasy spoon, with Scully's upper lip curling in distaste at the
booths, the yellowed menu, the smell of the place.  But they had no
choice. Both of them were tired, there was no place else to go at this
time of night.   And both of them were looking at their rings from time
to time, Scully at her wedding ring on her  left hand ring finger,
Mulder at his signet ring on his left little finger.



"Why, Mulder?" Scully asked suddenly, staring into space.


"Why what, Scully?" Mulder queried, after a full thirty seconds of also
staring into space.  He was trying to integrate the evidence they'd
gone through a few hours ago and Scully's sudden question caught him in
the middle of thinking about the way the bodies were buried.


"Why don't you and Skinner come out?"  Scully finally said. "Isn't that
what everyone seems to be doing nowadays? Wouldn't it be easier for
both of you if you could go where you wanted all the time, touch each
other all the time and all that?"



Suddenly she felt like crying, feeling so sorry for her friend and her
former boss.  They were both good men, doing so much good in the world,
not harming anyone except for occasional ego bruisings by Skinner on
the rest of the Bureau. And they couldn't even walk down the street
with their hands clasped in each other's, just like she and John always
did and took for granted. They also had to watch their backs, and every
move in the "straight" world had to be carefully thought out.  She knew
she was just missing her own husband in this time of night, in this
hole in the wall town, that this was a case of transference if she ever
saw one. But for the first time since the day she learned about Mulder
and Skinner, she suddenly had a small inkling of what they really had
to go through everyday.



"I don't want to talk about that right now," Mulder said, a grim tone
creeping into his voice.


"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully said as their awful food came. "I know it's
too personal a decision to talk about here in North Dakota."


She didn't know that she'd touched off a minefield just then. For the
rest of the next few days, when both of them were stretched to the
limit in this boring town, with its boring people and that Godawful
motel, with the dumb sheriff, Mulder was short with her. She knew that
it was her fault so she just remained as cool as she could.  But on the
way back home to DC, in the close confines of the plane, Mulder had
apologized and confided that it was even harder to come out now than
when Skinner was an AD.  No matter how tolerant people seem to be, no
matter that they say it doesn't matter, Mulder will still be looked on
as someone Skinner seduced in the past and was only keeping the X-files
because of the protection afforded by Skinner.



"We have to go around the country all the time, meeting with the
regional Bureau personnel, Scully," Mulder continued. "I already have a
hard enough time sometimes convincing them to listen to what I have to
say. To them I'm just Spooky, with a reputation as you so aptly put it.
Once everyone finds out that the Deputy Director sleeps with me, it
would be the end of dealing with anyone on an equal level.  Maybe it
would be different if we just deal with ordinary crimes. But being with
the X-files involves enough weirdness in itself and we get a hard
enough time getting an adequate budget."


They made up on the flight and Scully felt comfortable with him again.
She knew better now than to ask about very sensitive and personal
issues in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere.



Ever reliable John was at the gate and Scully had a happy reunion with
her husband.  The wistful expression on Mulder's face caught her eye as
he looked on as she and her husband kissed.  Although she was happy to
be home, it again struck her how difficult it must be for Mulder.


"Agent Mulder," both he and Scully whirled at the familiar voice.
Skinner stood by an "Authorized Personnel Only" door. The
transformation in Mulder's face was remarkable. Although the Deputy
Director was trying to appear businesslike, Mulder's face was smiling
at the pleasant surprise.


"Agent Scully," Skinner nodded at her courteously but she could see the
glint of humor in his eye.  "Agent Mulder and I have to discuss proper
procedures.  We'll just pass through
here if you don't mind.  After all, what's the use of being DD if you
can't have access to security corridors?"


Scully could see them through the small glass window.
She didn't miss her partner putting his arm around the Deputy
Director's shoulder just before they turned the corner.


CHAPTER THREE

TELEPATHIC SEX AND TAILORING TAYLOR


Mulder had his hips on the pillows.  His legs were against Skinner's
heaving sides.  It was wonderful to be back in their apartment.  They
had an early dinner and were continuing to celebrate being back
together.


"Walter.." Mulder grimaced with pleasure and his eyes closed. Skinner
was pumping in and out of him and Mulder could only hold onto his
lover's broad shoulders. Skinner pulled his upper body away from the
younger man and looked down between them.  The agent was close to
coming but Skinner wasn't.


"Fox. . ." Skinner murmured to writhing man beneath him. The younger
man was now arching his hips off the bed as he wanted to present more
of himself, to give more of himself to his lover. Skinner put a firm
but gentle grip at that spot on Mulder's penis, just before he knew
that Mulder was going to come. Mulder shuddered underneath him as
Skinner managed to delay Mulder's orgasm.


"Fox--tell me what you feel," Skinner stopped all movement and looked
down at the agent.  Mulder's eyes opened, his chest heaving.  Walter
was doing it again, he thought.  He sometimes surprised Mulder right in
the middle.


"W-what?" Mulder gasped, shifting his hips so that Skinner would
continue.


"I want you to tell me exactly what this feels like for you," Skinner
made a deep very slow, very, very slow thrust. Mulder's breath caught
in his throat as his back arched. "Come on, Fox, I want some
adjectives."


"Close--God, Wal--!"


"What else, Fox, the way it exactly feels I want. . ."


"Full stretched out, aaah.."


"Big..thick..long.."


Each adjective that came from Mulder's lips was rewarded by a slow deep
thrust from the older man.


"Warm..no, hot!"


"Heavy..uuh.."


"Am I too heavy?" Skinner's concentration wavered for a minute,
concerned that he was crushing Mulder too much.


"N-no.!  Don't..I meant a nice heaviness...a pleasant.. .aaaah. . .!"


"Feels good. . ."

"Fox, you have to do better than that," Skinner teased lightly.  He was
sweating by now, but he liked the way Mulder seemed to get wilder.  It
did indeed feel so good when they were together like this, especially
with Fox being so out of control while he was in control.


"What's all that..aaah!" Another thrust. "..education for?"


"I..feel wanted..feel needed.."


"You got that..right,"  Skinner grunted.  God, how he needed him, not
just now but for the rest of his life.


"Open..safe..protected..loved!"


It was too much for Mulder.  He could feel Skinner's slick hand  on his
raging penis and he tried to reach Skinner's ass to drive him even
deeper.  His back arched, his neck arched, his hips snapped off the
bed. The bedsheets were hopelessly rumpled, with a lot of it under
Mulder's frenzied grip.  He groaned wordlessly when he felt Skinner
occasionally brushing his nipple with the same slick hand.


The older man could see the cords on his neck, taste the faint
saltiness of his skin, feel the long muscles underneath him tensing up,
hear the frantic whimperings and smell the spicy scent Mulder only
released just when he was about to come.  Skinner had them at an
agonizingly slow pace as he savored the effect each thrust had on the
younger man.  It was so wonderful to be the only one able to give
Mulder this pleasure, which in turn heightened his own pleasure a
hundredfold.  The agent groaned heavily as his orgasm was triggered.


Mulder couldn't speak anymore.  He felt like his coming would never
stop. Skinner held him close, feeling the wetness and warmth between
their bodies.


"Walter, aaahhh. . .!"


Just before Mulder finished, Skinner released his own warmth and
wetness, his life, into his lover's soul.


Both of them shuddered in completion and Skinner collapsed onto Mulder.
After a while, they showered heated kisses on each other and Skinner
never felt so privileged in his life. Mulder's sharing of himself at
this most intimate moment, what he felt like when Skinner was in him,
when they were one, that was the closest another person can feel
without telepathy.


They cleaned up after that, removing the evident traces of their love,
the semen, the lubricant.  After a minute, Mulder rushed to the
bathroom and used it.  The agent was pleasantly tired when he got back
to bed, but to Skinner his expression was unreadable. Maybe he was
coming back to his own self, Skinner surmised.


But Mulder brightened when Skinner whispered, "Oh, how I love you,
honey.  Thank you, Fox."



Just as predictable as ever, Mulder went off to dreamland in a short
time.  Skinner reached for his briefcase, which was just at the
bedside, put on his glasses, turned on the bedside lamp and worked with
the television at a low volume.


Although he didn't know it, his concentration was much better after
having sex.  He could plow through a stack of papers in nothing flat
when he worked in bed.  He just had to be vigilant when Mulder rolled
over in his sleep. More than once, he'd had to hand over a bunch of
crumpled papers to Kimberly.


After a while, Skinner paused and listened. There was a scratching on
the door.  He stood up and let Taylor in. The dog circled once, then
twice, then slept on the floor near Skinner's side of the bed.

...........


"We have to, Walter," Mulder said, although his voice wasn't as firm as
he'd like it to be.


"I told you, no!" Skinner sat stubbornly in the living room, refusing
to look at Mulder.


"We've talked about this before," Mulder repeated.  "It's getting
worse.  What if something happens next time?"


"I've thought about it, just as much as you have," Skinner wanted to
shout, but he gritted his teeth to keep his voice in an even tone.


"Walter.. ."


"No, I said!"


"But...will you listen?"


"Let's talk about it another time!"


"You said that last time.  I just want you to listen to the voice of
reason," Mulder persisted.  It didn't escape his notice that Skinner's
legs were crossed.


The object of their argument was seated on the floor by Skinner's feet.
Skinner balefully looked at Taylor, whose wagging tail thumped
rhythmically on the carpet.


Mulder sighed and sat down, his shoulder slumped. Sometimes, it was so
hard arguing with Skinner, but this was one thing he was almost
vehement about.  He scratched his sweaty hair, pulled at his sticky T-
shirt and looked at the scratches on his bare arm.  His present grubby
state was courtesy of the dog.  Mulder did his usual evening run with
Taylor and everything was okay until the dog became amorous and run off
when Mulder had sprained his foot. Mulder had tried his best to search
for the dog but after an hour, with his ankle swelling, he had to call
it quits and went back home.  He spent the next three hours calling the
dog pound, hoping that Taylor might be there.


Fortunately, an irate dog owner a few blocks away made a
call.


Mulder was just too grateful to have the dog back and had rescued
Taylor.  So when Skinner got home that night, he saw Mulder slumped
angrily on the couch with his leg in ice, looking at Taylor.



It wasn't the first time that happened, of course. Taylor had been
giving them problems lately.  He more than once delayed their leaving
the cabin when he'd run off again and he took his own sweet time
getting back there.  Mrs. Jackson had complained that she couldn't
handle him anymore in their morning walks.  It was then that Mulder had
mentioned the word "NEUTER".


Skinner was shocked at first.  The dog he had as a boy never underwent
that procedure because he lived in the old house, where there was lots
of space and it was generally a safer world.  He knew that Mulder was
right; a very nice, friendly and healthy dog like Taylor could easily
be dognapped in the city no matter how careful they were. Furthermore,
they were living in an apartment where
Taylor was confined at home for hours. But every time Mulder brought up
that "N" word, Skinner could only cringe.


Mulder had put off the old argument and had given cold hard facts for
Skinner's consumption. Somehow, despite all his dog training books, he
never got around to reading the chapters on neutering and spaying.
Mulder searched the Net and printed out some information that showed
how dogs didn't suffer, only benefited from the surgery, easier to
handle, etc.  Skinner read his report, of course, but still put off
thinking about it.



So now, he was avoiding the issue again.


"Will you stop crossing your legs!" Mulder said in irritation.  "You're
projecting your own castration anxieties on your dog, Walter."


"Don't use your psychology on me, Fox," Skinner threatened, although he
uncrossed his legs ever so slowly.  "Just because it's convenient for
us doesn't make it right for Taylor."


"Of course it's not right but it's the only solution, save giving him
away to some little kid in the suburbs," Mulder drew a deep breath. "I
guess it's just a stupid mistake on my part, as usual.  I should have
gotten you a smaller dog, maybe even a bitch."


"Fox, don't go on one of your guilt trips again," Skinner admonished.
As usual, the agent was turning the issue round and round and upside
down until he was the one at fault again.


"What if we visit the vet and discuss it with him?"  Fox didn't show
how glad he was that his little ploy worked. Making it his fault never
failed to get his way with Skinner. And talking to experts, in this
case, the vet, always seemed reasonable enough to Skinner.


An appointment was made and both of them trooped to the vet with Taylor
in tow.  Skinner was crossing his legs again as he listened to the vet
and Mulder had wiggled his eyebrows at him when he didn't miss those
legs. Skinner forced himself to uncross his legs, annoyed with himself.
Mulder finally cheered when the vet mentioned that neutered dogs had
twice as long a lifetime as intact dogs.  It was then that Mulder
really saw that Skinner's interest was peaked.


The vet even made arrangements for putting Taylor to stud for a couple
of months so that his good genes could continue in future lab puppies.
After all, Taylor came from a long line of dog show winners.  That was
something that clinched it for Skinner.  He really was projecting too
much of himself on the dog, Mulder thought in amusement.   So, for the
next few weeks, various female labs were graced with Taylor's eager
presence.



Finally, the big day arrived and Skinner took Taylor back to the vet.
Mulder accompanied the DD, in case Skinner fainted at the prospect of
his dog actually undergoing that irreversible procedure.  Overall,
however, Skinner behaved impeccably and Mulder didn't have to carry him
home.


Taylor stayed overnight for observation and once back home, he had it
easy with Skinner making sure he took his medicine and not taking his
usual long walks. When there was evidence that the roaming and mounting
behavior ceased, Mulder eventually breathed a sigh of relief that the
neutering was successful.



CHAPTER FOUR



WARDROBE WORD-OF-MOUTH WONDERMENT



Mulder was seated on the floor.  He was sorting out the old clothes
stuffed in the closet in his study.  Spring cleaning finally couldn't
be put off anymore.


Actually, it was the first time they were going to do spring-cleaning
even if they've been here in the Crystal City apartment for years now.
Mrs. Jackson already finished with the kitchen things and Skinner
already sorted through the closets in their bedroom. Mulder was now
doing the tail end of the cleaning by choosing which clothes were
headed for charity.



He was still scratching his head at the piles of clothes he seemed to
have accumulated through the years. Considering that he rarely went
shopping for things, he couldn't figure out how he had so much.  And
for the life of him, he couldn't understand how he could have so many
black sweaters and black jeans.  He even had three sweaters of an
identical shade of blue and two yellow sweaters.  The old sweats he
used for running years ago was making a respectable pile of clothes
that had to be thrown away.  The two leather jackets he kept.


He used to like leather jackets because it made him look good and
Skinner couldn't resist him so much when he wore them.


He returned the jackets and the least faded pair of
black jeans and the best looking black sweaters. Those he would keep.
After all, it was always fun seducing Skinner. All he had to do was
wear the black get up and muss up his hair a little and stick out his
lower lip.  Such an attitude never failed to produce the desired
effect. But of course, he could only muss up his hair effectively if it
was cut short; the older man didn't like his hair mussed when it was
too long.


Skinner never had to wear anything special to seduce Mulder, however.
All he had to do was get dressed in his usual going to-work clothes and
put on his eyeglasses and it was enough to get Mulder's hormones
racing. And of course, he hardly had hair to muss.


He saw a blue baseball cap in the corner of the closet. The white
initials of NICAP suddenly reminded him of the early years with Scully.
They had a lot of arguments then with Scully not as tolerant of his
ideas as she was now.


All the socks with holes and all the old underwear were put in the pile
of clothes to be discarded.  Some of the T-shirts that could still be
used went to the charity pile.


After going through the closet, Mulder went over to the shelves by the
wall.  He really had to get rid of some of the books here to make way
for the new pile that just kept accumulating on his desk.



He was about to go over the books when he saw his fox and soldier
collection, still on the top two shelves, still important to him.


He paused and looked them over, one by one.  It was a feat for him that
the whole collection was still complete,
intact after all these years, with not one piece bearing a scratch. He
fingered each one, remembering somewhat vaguely when Skinner had sent
each one to him.  The very first one was the small porcelain fox,
Lladro, with the characteristic whimsical appearance of that porcelain
manufacturer.  He only later found out how difficult it was to look for
foxes. Skinner had said that most of the figurines were wolves or dogs
and very few were foxes. Mulder never knew the effort that each
purchase of the fox figurines took on Skinner's part.


The soldiers of course were easier to find with varying sizes and
colors.  Some were antiques while the others were stylized and modern.
Mulder remembered how excited he was when the first fox arrived in the
mail.  Then when the packages came with regularity, always after coming
home from an out of town case, he started looking forward to going home
to that dank, dark apartment.  Of course, the Pooh bear wasn't here. He
kept it in the drawer of his night stand table. It was never far from
him, just the same way that Skinner was never far from him when they
slept together.



Mulder suddenly recalled how carefully he packed these when he thought
he was returning them to Skinner for good.  Even with all the turmoil
and anguish he felt that time, he couldn't throw them against the wall
and reduce them to fragments of porcelain, crystal or wood. Instead,
he'd packed them one by one, painstakingly wrapping each and making
sure the pieces weren't broken when he'd dropped them off at Skinner's
doorstep that night.


"I see you're finally clearing up your closet."


Mulder turned his head to the voice at the door and shook his head
sheepishly at Skinner.  They didn't go to the cabin this Saturday
because they agreed that Mulder should do his spring-cleaning.  The
older man was still in his usual white shirt and tie because he'd gone
to the office for the morning; he'd already done his cleaning. He
grinned when he saw that a lot of space was cleared from
the closet.



Then he casually reached into his pocket and took out a small box.


"Oh, I saw this at the mall," Skinner said, handing the package to
Mulder.  "I just had to buy it because you know how hard it is to get."


The box was Baccarat again; inside, cushioned on the flat piece of
cotton, was a tiny but unmistakable fox, not a wolf, not a dog, but a
fox.  Mulder carefully placed it on the shelf beside the others and
then launched himself on Skinner


"Thank you," he said, then he grabbed Skinner's chin and kissed him
deeply.


Mulder's sudden move overbalanced them both and Skinner fortunately
landed on the pile of discarded clothing, which was enough to cushion
his fall.  Skinner wondered what brought this along but he wasn't
complaining.


Mulder was kissing him and the older man just opened his mouth and
moaned as the agent's inquisitive tongue was now in his mouth, lazily
going over his palate and teeth. Then he felt Mulder continue his
kissing.  On his jaw, lingering on his neck and then he felt his tie
being loosened.  It was such an unexpected and pleasant windfall that
Skinner didn't mind that Mulder was going so fast.



"Fox. . ." he breathed and closed his eyes as the younger man
unbuttoned his shirt and ran a wet tongue onto  his nipple. Mulder was
fumbling with his belt now while kissing the flattened scar on his
abdomen.  The trousers were going to be creased but at this point,
Skinner wasn't worried about that.  In no time, Mulder's mouth was on
him and was eagerly suckling his growing erection.



The agent's warm, enthusiastic mouth was too much for Skinner and he
was now panting helplessly as he was brought to heights of sensation.
He squirmed as the persistent tongue stayed on that special spot, that
sensitive vein just underneath his member.  He felt his hips lifting
off the floor involuntarily as he offered more of his body to Mulder's
mouth. Skinner's consciousness was reduced to the very concentrated
area of nerves of his penis.  In no time, he was coming, groaning and
moaning as his semen was swallowed by Mulder.



"As I said, thanks for the fox," Mulder grinned and lay on top of
Skinner as the older man was catching his breath. The agent continued
to kiss Skinner, sharing his own taste with him.


"I like surprises, Fox" Skinner chuckled; his heart was continuing to
hammer in his chest. "But this one takes the cake."


The agent smiled and hugged the older man.  This time, he didn't even
have to wear his black getup.



CHAPTER FIVE

TUXEDO BEEF


Walter Skinner glanced at the clock on the dashboard and cursed
silently to himself.  He was very late.  It was already seven p.m. and
he still had another stupid dinner tonight.  To top it off, his blind
date had canceled at the last minute and he would have to go alone
again.  He hated these dinners but he hated it more if he had to go
stag.
It didn't help any that Agent Delaney was driving so slow.


Skinner drummed his fingers on the armrest, hoping that Delaney would
take the hint.


Delaney finally pulled up to the drive and the DD almost leapt out of
the car.  Delaney was supposed to wait and take him to the dinner.
Skinner was already unknotting his tie in the elevator.


He hurriedly shed his topcoat and suit jacket and went upstairs.  He
didn't even have time to greet Mulder, who he assumed was in the den
from the way the television was blaring.


Skinner hurriedly freshened up in the bathroom, splashing water on his
face and neck, brushing his teeth and gargling some mouthwash.  He
stripped to his underwear and flung open his closet.  That was when he
realized he was in trouble.


His tuxedo wasn't in the closet.


Skinner drew a deep breath and checked again, methodically going
through each plastic covered suit from the laundry. Still somewhat
hopeful, he
checked Mulder's study, in case the agent left it there. Still no tux.


Inwardly, he was beginning to seethe.  He rushed downstairs and in the
dining room, he saw that Mulder had set two places for dinner.  That
was when he knew he was not just in trouble, but in big trouble.


"Fox!" he barked on his way to the den.  The television was at maximum
volume but the agent was asleep on the couch. Skinner roughly shook
Mulder's shoulder.


"Didn't you get my tuxedo from the cleaners?"


"What?" Mulder asked.



"I have a dinner tonight.  Didn't I tell you to pass by the cleaners on
your way home?  I told you I might be late."


"Shit!" Mulder clapped a hand to his forehead. "I thought your dinner
was tomorrow!  I'm sorry, Walter!"


"Well, sorry's not good enough, Mulder," Skinner was gritting his teeth
in frustration.  "Now, how am I going to attend that dinner?"


Mulder warily eyed the older man.  He knew that his lover was hopping
mad, from the way he had used his last name to the color of his scalp.


"I told you, I'm sorry," Mulder calmly repeated.


"I'll call to see if they're still open."


"You very well know that the cleaners close at seven," Skinner said.
"Fox, I just asked you for one thing today, that you get that damn
tuxedo.  That was all I asked of you!"
"

I'm sorry, Walter," Mulder said evenly.


"Why'd you forget?" Skinner growled.  "It's a simple thing. I said to
get it after work!"


"Didn't you hear me?!"  Mulder started yelling. "I. . .AM. . .SORRY!"


Mulder stormed out of the den and Skinner heard the front door slam.


Skinner reached his breaking point.  If it was one thing he couldn't
stand, it was someone in the wrong yelling righteously at him. All he
could think of was that it was an important dinner, he had no date, and
he was going to be very late from the way things were going and no tux.
Plus Mulder yelling at him.


Skinner then stomped up the stairs, making sure that he made a lot of
noise doing so.  He was muttering to himself as he got dressed.  He
would just have to use his darkest suit.


"Spoiled rotten." Skinner muttered.  "Can't even remember the simplest
things. . .selective amnesia."


He was just tucking his shirt into his trousers when Mulder
came into the bedroom and threw a tuxedo at him. Skinner grabbed it
before it fell to the floor.


"That's from the guy at 1401," Mulder said tightly, refusing to look at
Skinner.  "It's clean.  I'm sure you won't get cooties from it. You
have the same size."


The agent left the room.  Skinner grudgingly looked over 1401's tux and
noted that it was newer than his.  Seeing that he had no choice, he put
it on.  Before he left for the dinner, he checked and realized that the
apartment was empty.  Mulder and Taylor were both gone.


The dinner was barely tolerable, of course. Skinner had to endure the
empty seat beside him and the person on his right was boring as hell.
The whole evening was boring as hell. Likewise, the food was atrocious,
something the chef was very proud about, something that was supposed to
be fish and "Californian", that was some sort of blend of Japanese and
Italian spices.  He left as soon as was decently possible.


Skinner got home to the dark apartment and tossed his keys onto the
sideboard.  The bedroom was dark as well, which was unlike Mulder who
usually left a small lamp burning when Skinner was going to be late
getting home. So when Skinner turned on the lamp, he was not surprised
to find the bed empty of Mulder.  Instead, the bed had his tuxedo on
it, still in the plastic bag from the cleaners. Skinner hissed through
his teeth and rolled his eyes, surveying the empty bed.  He got out of
his borrowed tuxedo and went to look for Mulder.


He thought Mulder would be in his study, but the couch there was empty.
Skinner shook his head as he headed for the den. He relaxed a little
when he heard Taylor's familiar snuffle when the dog looked up as the
light from the hallway gave a faint glow into the dark den.  Mulder was
asleep on it with the spare blanket, the blanket that Michelle Lister
used a few months ago, covering even his head.


It must be uncomfortable on the couch since it was shorter than Mulder
was, whose body's outline under the blanket revealed how scrunched up
he was.  Skinner thought for a minute and then reached down and gently
shook Mulder's shoulder.


"Come on, Fox, let's get to bed," Skinner whispered.  The agent didn't
even look up from his cocoon, just squirming away from Skinner's hand
on his shoulder.


"No," the muffled voice insisted from under the blanket. Mulder's
refusal just irritated Skinner and added more fuel to his already bad
temper. He'd be damned if he was the one going to apologize.  After
all, who was the one who forgot the tuxedo that he had to wear some
stranger's tuxedo?


"Suit yourself," Skinner angrily muttered and walked out of the den and
shut the door behind him.


When Skinner woke up the next morning at his usual early hour.  By the
time he left for work, Mulder was still presumably sleeping in the den.
The workday kept him so busy that he didn't have time to think about
their fight.
But as soon as he got home, Mulder still wasn't there. Taylor was
already antsy so Skinner went out with him for the evening walk.  It
was already seven when he got back but the answering machine had no
messages from Mulder. After dinner, Skinner worked on his papers but at
nine, still no Mulder. He usually called if he was going to be later
than expected. So at ten, Skinner finally folded and called Scully.


"Uhm, Agent Scully, you aren't working late on something with Fox. .
.Mulder are you?" Skinner cleared his throat.


"No, sir," Scully answered.  "He left work at five.  We just did some
reports today; we don't have any new cases lined up, sir."


"Thanks," Skinner said.


"Is there anything you'd want me to do?" Scully offered.


"Just call me if he calls you," Skinner said, uncomfortable that Scully
had to know that they were in the midst of a fight.  He shouldn't have
allowed Mulder to sleep in the den.


If there was one thing they always said, it was to resolve a fight
before bedtime.  He didn't do that last night.  Instead, it had just
simmered the whole day between them.


It was almost midnight when Taylor pricked his ears at the sound of the
front door opening. Skinner checked from the landing of the stairs and
saw that it was indeed Mulder.
At least from what he could see, Mulder hadn't been drinking.


"Hi," Mulder said to him tightly as he peeled off his coat. Instead of
going up as he should, the agent headed for the den.  It seemed he
intended to continue last night's melodrama.  "If you must know where I
was, I was at the movies."


Skinner followed Mulder into the den.  Once inside, the agent remained
a distance from him and remained standing with his arms crossed over
his chest.


"So you're planning to stay here tonight again?" Skinner asked, trying
to sound casual about it. The younger man nodded but stayed where he
was.


"Shouldn't we talk about this?" the DD sighed as he sat
down.  Mulder remained silent.  "Should I begin?"


They usually tried to end their rare arguments with one party telling
his side of the story.


"You always do," Mulder finally said in a low voice.


"Well. . ." Skinner began. "I was already late and Amy called and said
she was not going to make it so when I got here and. . .found that the
tuxedo was gone, I guess I just blew up."


Mulder drew in his breath.


"I'm not mad about that stupid tux," Mulder said.  "You and I know that
I made an honest mistake about forgetting to go to the cleaners. But I
really hated the way you made me feel."


Skinner paused, looking up at Mulder.  He thought it was going to be a
bratty spiel on Mulder's part.


"I already told you I was sorry, four times I told you," Mulder said,
in that same low angry voice. "But you just kept harping on it.  Didn't
you think I didn't know about how frantic you were, that you were going
to another hated dinner without the proper clothes?  I knew, and I also
knew that the cleaners were already closed.  You didn't have to dig it
in.


"It's just that when we're in an argument, you're always right and I'm
always wrong," Mulder finished.  "I'm always the one who does the
stupid, dumb things while you're always doing the correct thing.  It's
like you're still the AD while I'm the green agent.  It's always like
that, isn't it? Is it because you have this power over me?"



Skinner was appalled when he saw Mulder how furious Mulder was.


"What power?"  Skinner managed to say.


"Maybe it has a lot to do with the fact that I'm much younger than you,
that I'm lower than you in the totem pole in the Bureau, that I have
less money than your little pinkie, that I'm always the bottom, that I
reveal more of myself to you when we make love, that you clean me up
after we make love.  Maybe it has a lot to do with me sometimes not
even being able to control myself in bed that my SHIT gets all over the
place. . .that you always have to rescue me from men from the beach and
the Safeway and the drive-in, that you always bring me home from the
hospital, that you always take care of me.


"THAT...I.AM.. .NOT...YOUR...EQUAL!"  Mulder finished with his voice
raised.  He got out of Skinner's reach when the older man attempted to
take him into his arms.  "Don't touch me! Stay away from me!"


The older man found himself leaving the room, ironically following
Mulder's entreaty. Skinner's mind was in turmoil, wondering why Mulder
would ever feel that way. He composed his thoughts like always and
tried to think of what to tell Mulder.



After a few minutes, he returned to the den, hoping that Mulder's anger
had dissipated. Skinner found the agent with his head in his hands.
When Mulder looked up, Skinner found that his eyes were dry with two
patches of color on his cheeks.


"You're perfectly right, Fox," Skinner began. "That you're not my
equal."


Mulder flinched.


"You're not my equal because you infinitely mean more to me than I do
to myself, Fox,"  Skinner's voice shook with emotion.  "I feel the need
to take care of you, to protect you, to love you. . .because as I wrote
in that letter years ago, you're precious to me.  Please. . .I just
want you to remember that I wrote that because I meant it.  I'm sorry
if my need to take care of you makes you feel stifled.  I'm sorry about
the way I made you feel when I got mad about that damned tuxedo."


Skinner couldn't continue.  He brushed angrily at the tears that
threatened to overflow.  All he could think of was how angry both of
them were, of how Mulder could think that way of him, of how Mulder
could think that of his own self.


"Walter," Mulder said.  "I didn't mean to make you cry."


Skinner nodded grimly and Mulder heard him go up the stairs.


Now, Mulder didn't know what to feel.  He just made the older man cry
and that never happened before. Skinner also apologized to him, and
that in itself was rare.  And Skinner had practically told him in his
own words about how he felt for the agent, instead of having a head
start and writing it down on paper like he did before.


And it all started because of one STUPID tuxedo.


It was usually Mulder that was hurt when they had these pointless
arguments and it was usually Skinner who came to him and made it up to
him. Now it was his turn.  Maybe he was getting better at this; he'd
stopped clamming up and keeping all the hurt inside like he used to do.
It just so happened that unleashing it hurt Skinner in turn.


Mulder went upstairs but into his study first. He unlocked the bottom
drawer, where he kept things even from the older man.


It contained rough drafts of the revision of his will, Samantha's pink
bunny that she had when she was a
baby, the baseball his dad had given one Christmas but they never
played catch with, letters from Phoebe when they used to write to each
other, all the birthday and Christmas cards from his mom, and the most
prized of all, Skinner's letter on their fifth year anniversary.


While all the letters in the drawer were still in their envelopes and
were now yellowed with age, Mulder had kept this one in a clear plastic
sheet to preserve it forever from greasy fingers and spills.


He read the letter again and then returned it into the bottom drawer of
his desk before locking it.  When he got to the bedroom, Skinner was
buried in his pillows.


Mulder crawled into bed a few minutes later.


"Apology accepted," Mulder whispered as he kissed Skinner's neck
because his back was turned away from him.


Skinner turned on his back and looked at Mulder. They kissed
again. They held each other as they finally fell asleep.


END OF BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (1/3)

BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (2/3) by Sean Spencer
seans13@hotmail.com



DISCLAIMER IN PART ONE


CHAPTER SIX

PURPLE DEFLATION


Fox Mulder rubbed his eyes as he waited at the carousel. It was two
a.m. at the National, another case closed, another red eye back home.
Of course, the flight was delayed for two hours. When he'd called
Skinner from SeaTac, his lover had offered to get him from the airport,
but Mulder had declined, saying that it was too late for Skinner.


It had been lonely on this case.  Scully was sick with the flu and
Mulder had gone alone to Seattle to investigate the two alleged
abductions.  At least with Scully by his side, Mulder always had
someone familiar to talk to, someone who wasn't a stranger out there on
the West Coast, who didn't think that his intuitive leaps of logic were
too eerie. But with her sick back home, Mulder had to deal with the
local sheriff who resented federal meddling.


So after long hours of field work, he'd had to go back to the motel all
alone, eat his meals alone, bounce theories in his head alone.  It was
times like these that he acutely missed having Skinner in bed with him.
He didn't even have Scully to bug.  She'd reassured him that she wasn't
pregnant.  God, how would his life be if Scully became pregnant and her
condition made it more difficult for her to travel on a biweekly basis?
AD Wilson might even give him a new partner.


So once Mulder collected his luggage from the carousel, he
went to the parking lot.  The airport had that uncomfortable, weary
look to it, when the swing shift wasn't so friendly. It just made him
more exhausted. Mulder
had to force himself to stay awake as he drove home in his Cherokee.
It wouldn't do if he had another accident.  That was the last thing he
needed right now.


Mulder got into the apartment, tossed his bags any which way, and
headed upstairs after drinking a long cold glass of milk.  Skinner was
asleep on the bed, the hour too late for the DD to have waited up for
him. Even Taylor barely glanced at him, the pricking of his ear the
only indication that the dog was aware of his presence. Getting home
after a long flight with everyone asleep, even the dog, was sure
lonely, too.


Their fight had long since been forgotten and things were resolved
between them.


The agent stripped, even removing his boxers, brushed his teeth and
hurriedly washed.  All he could think during the flight home was
getting into his own bed and now he couldn't wait. Mulder was just glad
that it was a Friday, no a Saturday by now.  He crawled into bed,
eagerly spooning onto Skinner's sleep-warm body and fell asleep
immediately.


When Mulder woke up the next morning, he knew that it was late from the
angle of the sunlight streaming into the room. A glance at the clock
confirmed that it was eleven o'clock already. Skinner's indentation on
the bed was cold. Mulder cocked an ear and correctly surmised that
Skinner was downstairs.  He stayed in bed and just luxuriated in the
feel of sleeping in on a Saturday morning.  They could still go to the
cabin that afternoon.


Skinner's head poked into the room a few minutes later. He smiled in
greeting when he saw that Mulder was awake.


"What time did you get in?"  Skinner asked, sitting by the bed and
giving Mulder a kiss.


"Two," Mulder yawned and rubbed his eyes.  He stretched on the bed as
Skinner ran a hand lightly on his side. "I'm starving."


He got out of bed and after using the bathroom, shrugged into Skinner's
bathrobe with the serious intention of raiding the kitchen.  He found
that Skinner had made some eggs for him which he wolfed down with lots
of toast and coffee.




"Walter, why do you need a J1222 form if you need to file a 398?"
Mulder asked as Skinner poured orange juice for him. The older man sat
across from him as he watched Mulder eat. "No, I didn't antagonize
Seattle regional, Walter, not
without Scully for my back up.  I just couldn't understand why I had to
fill out a six page form in order to ask for permission to use a life
raft."


Skinner's eyes narrowed.  He didn't want to know why Mulder had to use
a raft in the first place, did he?.


"You were in the water?" Skinner asked, trying to hide his concern.
"Who was with you?"


"I didn't go alone, Walter," Mulder rolled his eyes. Skinner was at it
again.  "I had two junior agents with me and we had the ranger as a
guide.  And I didn't get seasick because of the rapids."


"What rapids?!"


"We were looking for the cave where the purple longhaired cougar was
allegedly sighted."


That Skinner didn't want to know.  How would people, witnesses, know
that it was a cougar if it was purple AND long-haired?  He looked
closely at Mulder's face and saw that the agent was serious, that he
wasn't pulling Skinner's leg.


"If you must know, we got tufts of the purple fur and I'm sending it
over to the labs to see if those have the 5th and 6th nucleic acids.
And I even got a sample of the green blood. The ranger thinks that the
purple cougar might have given birth in the cave.  So now he's on the
look out for at least two purple cubs."



"Wait a minute, Fox," Skinner slowed him down. He was totally lost.
"What has this got to do with the two abductions?"


"There was purple fur at the crime sites," Mulder explained in
exasperation.  Sometimes, Skinner could be so dense even if he was the
Deputy Director.  "Purple cougars are known to savor human flesh,
especially toddlers."


"But how do you know that there are at least two...purple...cubs?"
Skinner asked.


"Because, I told you that there was green blood found in the cave with
remnants of a dichorionic diamniotic placenta which indicates fraternal
twinning, according to Scully. But that wasn't what I asked you about.
You can read my report about the cougar later.  Now, why do I need a
J1222 for a 398?"


Skinner relaxed and launched on the legalities of proving
one's ability to swim on paper.  How it wouldn't do if a field agent
investigated something in a body of water and
it turned out that said agent didn't have the necessary water survival
skills.  These bureaucratic red tape, Skinner had all down pat, as part
of Bureau management.  When he finished, Mulder was looking at him
blankly, as much at sea as Skinner was in understanding why purple
cougars had anything to do with the abductions.


Mulder's plate was empty in no time but it was obvious that he was
still hungry.  Skinner rooted in the refrigerator and found some of
last night's leftovers and heated these in the microwave.


"Thanks," Mulder said when Skinner put down the leftovers. "You know,
those purple long-haired cougars are renowned for their survival
skills. Imagine something so vividly colored living in the Northwest,
eluding capture all this time.  I think I'm going to write an article
for Omni once the lab tests on the fur comes out. It's the first time
that a lab analysis is going to be done on their fur, you know."


One thing that can be said about living with Mulder, Skinner mused as
the agent continued.  It sure wasn't boring.  It was a lot nicer
hearing about these strange cases than having to read them on official
reports. These things do sound like they come from the National
Enquirer once they're written down.  And it was easier to listen to it
as a lover than as an AD. Cases like these used to give him countless
headaches.


Sometimes, when Mulder talked about his field work, Skinner missed the
field work himself, too.  Of course, he was a field agent once, years
ago.  Now he was stuck behind the desk and conference tables most of
the time. But even in his long years as a field agent, never had he
encountered cases quite like Mulder's.


"And if there's a postpartum purple cougar out there, there must be an
adult male purple cougar somewhere, too. After all, the fur makes them
mammalian, doesn't it?  I just wish that the placenta hadn't
disintegrated in my hands like that.  It would have been perfect for
analysis. It sure smelled awful, though."


Skinner listened with amusement as Mulder voiced his theories regarding
the elusive purple cougar.  It was times like these that Skinner was
convinced that Mulder was treading a fine line.  Once the agent
finished eating, Skinner rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the
dishwasher. Meanwhile, Mulder took a shower.


Once the agent was ready, they set off for the cabin. Taylor was all
excited once he saw that they were getting into the old Range Rover. It
meant that he had long hours away from city concrete. Mulder likewise
looked forward to the cabin. This time, he let Skinner drive. They got
there by mid afternoon.



Taylor shot out of the car the moment the door was opened, relishing
the freedom the cabin provided. After stretching their legs from being
cramped in the Rover, Mulder challenged Skinner to one on one.


It was what they had been doing lately.  Mulder had installed a hoop
and backboard over the garage and on most weekends they were here, a
game of basketball ensued. Mulder was smug that he was ahead, way
ahead.  Skinner, as goal oriented as ever, sought to win each time.  It
provided a nice workout for him, too.  Sometimes, of course, the games
deteriorated to plain wrestling matches that sometimes ended up in the
house, where wrestling turned into something else.

................


It was now Sunday night.  Mulder and Skinner talked things over and
decided to stay over until early tomorrow morning. Lots of things
needed to be done in the cabin, where the two were doing minor repairs
on their beloved house. So after a whole day of doing little paint
jobs, unclogging of stopped up drains, repairing the leak in the sink
in the garage, unsticking stuck doors and oiling squeaky hinges in the
kitchen, the two lovers found themselves finally in bed.


Skinner was watching the late news, while Mulder was still wired after
a day of almost unending activities around the house.  He was
impatiently kissing Skinner's chest, worrying one nipple with his mouth
and running a thumb over the other one.  Mulder looked up and saw that
the older man was still watching television.


"Come on, Walter," Mulder said in exasperation. He gently removed the
DD's glasses so that the near-sighted man would shift his focus on
Mulder, instead.  "We last made love even before I left for Seattle."


That was more than five days ago.  Last night, Mulder was too tired.
Now, he was tired but not so much.  He was busily trying to peak
Skinner's interest.  Mulder then got on top of Skinner to block off the
television completely and continued with kissing the older man. Skinner
squirmed to turn off the television with his remote.  He let Mulder's
tongue leisurely explore his mouth and let out a moan as their tongues
played against each other.


Mulder concentrated on the kissing.  He was preferring this activity
lately, how sometimes, kissing could make him closer to Skinner than
making love.  Occasionally, their mouths strayed to eyes, ears, necks
and foreheads but having each other's pliant mouths was the best.  From
his position of lying on Skinner, Mulder could feel that Skinner's
erection was still at half mast so his hands strayed down between them
and kneaded gently on his lover's member. Pajamas and underwear were
discarded in short notice as their kissing heated them both up. Skinner
really liked where things were going. Mulder was now under him after
they rolled on the bed.  Mulder was trailing kisses on his chest and
their hands were busy on each other's bodies.


"I'll just turn over," Mulder murmured, lying on his stomach and
parting his legs.  That was when it hit Skinner that he had a problem.
Normally, he would be hard as a rock by now, but it wasn't happening.


"Please, Walter, I want you in me now," Mulder was still waiting and he
turned his head in puzzlement when the older man wasn't applying the
Astroglide onto strategic parts by now.  The agent saw the tense look
on Skinner's face.


The younger man wondered what was taking so long.  Maybe Walter wanted
him on his back.  But as Mulder turned and brushed up against Skinner's
groin, Skinner still wasn't hard as he would usually be.   So he
reached down but Skinner reared his hips away.


"Uhm, maybe I don't feel like it tonight," Skinner said, embarrassed.
"I'll just..."


The older man hastily applied the lubricant on his hand. Before Mulder
could say anymore, he writhed as Skinner expertly masturbated him.


The agent became preoccupied as Skinner swiftly brought him to
culmination, catching his emission at the right time onto a washcloth.
Mulder shuddered.  It was too quick but it was enough for now.  He
looked questioningly at Skinner but the older man turned away and went
to sleep.


CHAPTER SEVEN



I SPY



It was four weeks later and Mulder was worried. He looked over
Skinner's sleeping form.  The older man was sound asleep and his soft
snores could be heard from under the pillows.  Skinner was burying
himself in the pillows lately. Whereas before, he just had two under
his head with the third one by his side, this time, two of the pillows
were over his head. When Mulder woke up in the morning, he would
occasionally find a pillow between them.


They had tried to make love three times since that night in the cabin,
but Skinner couldn't. He brought Mulder to orgasm with his mouth or
hands, but he himself couldn't get hard enough.  They hadn't truly made
love since before Mulder got home from his purple cougar investigation.
Mulder wondered if this was what impotence was. Was Skinner impotent?


Mulder screwed up his face as he tried to recall if the same thing ever
happened to him.  He had vague memories of a night with Phoebe when he
had too much beer in his university days.  Beer even back then used to
hit him hard. Then he recalled another time with Deborah, when he
really wanted it to happen but nothing worked. The embarrassment and
humiliation were overwhelming; they broke up soon after even if Deborah
swore that she didn't mind.


Skinner probably felt the same way as he did back then. The
older man pretended that he really didn't feel like making love and he
would turn away once Mulder had his orgasm, instead of cuddling
afterwards like usual.  At first, Mulder thought it was a phase.  After
all, they did work hard on the cabin that Sunday.  But the next time
they tried, it was also a weekend when he knew that the older man was
well rested. Still no erection.


Then the next two times, they tried, it was becoming mechanical.
Skinner just seemed to want him to come as fast as possible.  Mulder of
course, being younger, did come as fast as possible.  After all,
Skinner knew his body.  But it was different.


Mulder couldn't bring up the possibility of going to the doctor.  If
Skinner already had a hard time with Taylor's neutering, Mulder
instinctively knew that talking about the "I" word with Dr. Cormier
could be devastating for him, to say the least. They skirted around the
issue, each one convinced that they didn't mind.


They were pretending that they didn't mind until the issue was so large
between them that Mulder could swear that it had a size, shape and
mass, and it was lying down with them right now.  If he could scrunch
up his eyes, he could probably see it with a big label on it. Take your
pick if the big letter "I"  meant "issue" or "impotent".  He could
swear that that letter "I" was even looking at each of them and
snickering to its heart content.


Because he didn't want to make Skinner feel bad,  Mulder had just
wanted to cuddle an hour ago. Instead, Skinner thought that Mulder was
making demands on him. So before he could say anything any further,
Skinner's hand had sneaked down into his boxers and brought him to an
unpleasant orgasm. The older man had persisted even when Mulder was
trying to pull away.



It was like he was back at Oxford with Phoebe. Since she was his first
lover, he didn't know much; in fact, he was ignorant as hell.  One of
their first encounters was just like tonight.  Of course, in his
stupidity, he thought that real loving sex was exactly like that and
frankly wondered what the fuss was about.  After all, he was just
nineteen then and repressed as anything.  Mulder still couldn't believe
how a physiological release could feel so different depending on the
overlying psychic overtones.


From the few things he had researched and read surreptitiously, they
all said not to make it a big deal between a couple.  But, damn it, it
was a big deal.  It was a BIG DEAL.  Making love had always been
important to them and always been a time to reaffirm their devotion,
affection, sharing, passion and warmth for each other.


Of course, in the beginning, Skinner had brought him to wonderful earth
shattering orgasms without expecting anything in return.  But Mulder
was past that by now.  He
had grown in this relationship in more ways than one and had come to
realize that Skinner used to do that for him
because he was so needy back then.  Nerdy AND needy.  What a deadly
combination. But for the past few years, their making love had been a
mutual give and take of pleasure. It was always best when both of them
were fully involved.


Mulder didn't know if the older man was also reading stuff on his own.
Probably was, too. But it was somehow embarrassing to go to the
bookstore to purchase a book on impotence. Especially if you were a
man. If Mulder bought one, he could say that it wasn't for him; Skinner
could likewise say the same thing.  But of course, the cashier would
just nod and snicker behind his or her back. However, if a woman,
Scully for example, bought the same book from said bookstore, she would
get sympathetic glances and probably be patted on top of her little
head for all her efforts in helping her lover.


Wait a minute, would Scully actually do it for him?  Nah, he would
never do that to Skinner, letting his petite partner know that all was
not right with his Walter.  He also didn't want to ruin Skinner in
Scully's eyes, she who had this big impression that Skinner was some
sort of insatiable sex machine.


The younger man tried to think up of diplomatic ways to tell Skinner
that they would need to go to Cormier.  He was still at it when
troubled slumber finally claimed him.


............


Skinner woke up early the next morning, earlier than usual. He didn't
even stretch on the bed to get his muscles going. He just got up and
left Mulder's sleeping form without even looking at him.


Damn him.  Sometimes, Mulder could be so insensitive, even with his
tendency to tear up easily.  It was all a front for his being self
centered.  He didn't have to throw himself at Skinner last night,
knowing full well that he was having problems.  The older man still
couldn't shake the anxiety gnawing at him. Fortunately, Mulder had been
satisfied with masturbation lately.


As he took a long shower, Skinner thought about his past sex life.  A
big part of his self image had been his sexual prowess and now it was
all shot.  Ever since high school, he'd been open to experimentation.
Even up to now, Mulder didn't know that Skinner's expertise was
obtained from his late teens when he was in Vietnam and had wild R and
R's in Okinawa, Subic and Bangkok.


It was there where eager girls with silky long black hair and lithe
copper bodies willingly tutored him. There were occasional copper
bodied boys as well.  It was there in those R and R's where he was able
to learn about his own body and its responses and other people's bodies
and their
responses.  It was there that he learned that anyone, absolutely anyone
could have multiple orgasms into oblivion. And he knew how to elicit
those step by step just like playing a fine taut bowstring on a violin.
One of the reasons that he and Sharon lasted so long despite their
incompatibility was due to his skills.  Of course, his parents' morals
had a tight hold on him by then so he had drawn the line with animals,
children and rape, unlike some of the other men he knew.


He was just lucky that he never caught anything because of their
sergeant's insistence that condoms always be used. Fortunately, Private
Walter S. Skinner of the United States Marine Corps along with his
buddy the even wilder Private First Class John, a.k.a Jack, Reilly had
listened to Sergeant Hansell.  Those grainy STD documentaries had
shaken them as their sergeant always managed to find a new one and made
sure that his squad was updated.


That was why Skinner was quite clear in what would work between him and
Mulder.  That was why he got angry when Mulder had suggested handcuffs
so long ago.  He knew exactly how those things would make you feel and
he didn't want Mulder's more tender psyche to fall into that trap. That
was why he was absolutely sure that he and Mulder had the best, that
nothing was better than having very loving and mutual sex with someone
you cherished.  And if there was one thing that was ingrained in his
mind, it wasn't the number of orgasms one could achieve that made sex
so important; rather it was the physical and emotional closeness that
resulted that was important.


It was inevitable, of course, that with his varied sex life,  he would
sometimes not get hard when he wanted to.  It happened, sure, just like
to any man, but never this long nor this consistently.


Skinner angrily soaped up himself in the shower and, in his
frustration, threw the soap against the tiles.  The now misshapen soap
didn't even make a satisfying clatter. He just didn't know why Mulder
had to dig it in, that he would ask for sex at the most inopportune
time.  He shampooed his hair and rinsed off, standing in the almost
scalding shower spray.  When he had enough, he stepped out of the
shower and dried off.  As he pulled clothes from the closet, he didn't
bother to do it quietly.  If Mulder could be insensitive, he could,
too.


Unconsciously, he was making more noise than he normally would. Mulder
awakened at the noise and made his displeasure known by grabbing a
pillow and pulling it over his head. It wasn't lost on Skinner, who saw
Mulder's movements and even made more noise until Mulder groaned in
irritation.


There, Skinner thought as roughly he pulled at his particularly squeaky
sock drawer, that's for last night.


The clatter was too much for Mulder who finally leaned back tiredly
against the headboard and watched Skinner.


"What time's it?" Mulder asked.



There he goes whining again, the brat, Skinner thought as his jaw
clenched.


"Five thirty," Skinner curtly answered.  He relented however, when it
dawned on him with sudden clarity that he was acting just like a brat
himself.  He went about getting dressed quietly and Mulder was able to
lie back down in bed and sleep.


Because it was so early, he didn't wait for his ride to the Hoover.
Instead, he took his own car and drove to work.  He would just inform
his security detail once was there and tell them not to bother to go to
Crystal City this morning.


It was times like these that he really missed his dad. Daddy would have
listened and would have known what to do. Intellectually, Skinner knew
that he probably needed to go see Cormier, but it would be better if he
could talk about it with someone beforehand.  Skinner's throat
tightened.  He shouldn't be bawling in the car or else he'll just get
into an accident. Somehow, it was something he couldn't tell Jack over
the telephone either.



He was cranky the whole day and Kimberly was walking as if on
eggshells. She just bore it like always, and just hoped that whatever
was going on with her boss would clear up in a few days.  He was sure
touchy for the past month.


After a few minutes glancing over his papers, Skinner realized that all
was not well at the Atlanta regional field office.  He mulled over the
reports sent to him, conflicting data about budget deficits confounded
by numerous OPC investigations of personnel.  He didn't even need to
think about for a long time.  He only thought about it for a minute,
thirty seconds at the most.


"Kimberly," Skinner called her over the office intercom. "Please
arrange with Travel that I'm going to drop in on Atlanta.  I think I'll
stay there for three days.  Don't notify them.  I want it to be a
surprise."


"Yes, sir," Kimberly's filtered voice answered. The DD's assistant
sighed with relief.  That meant a few days of respite.


Mulder got home that night much later than usual because he wanted to
watch Scully's autopsy.  He gave a start when he saw Skinner's luggage
by the front door.  He forced himself not to panic and found his lover
upstairs talking on the phone.  Once Skinner hung up, he went over to
Mulder and gave the agent a brief peck on the cheek.


"I'm going to Atlanta tomorrow," Skinner explained. "Something's fishy
going on there and I need to find out."


"Oh," was all Mulder said, trying to hide his relief. "I'll just take a
shower before dinner. I think I can still smell Scully's autopsy on
me."


"Sure," Skinner said, lying on the bed as he flipped through the
channels and finally settled on a sitcom.  He could hear Mulder in the
shower and once he finished, Skinner noticed how Mulder wrapped his
towel around his waist before he went into the bedroom and got some
clothes from the closet.  He didn't used to do that. Skinner's
irritation flared for a moment but he didn't say anything.


Dinner was relatively okay because Skinner's relaying of his suspicions
of the Atlanta office preoccupied Mulder. Usually, Skinner even kept
such sensitive information from Mulder, especially since they were just
suspicions on his part.  But he had to talk of something and this one
was juicy enough to distract both of them from the main thing weighing
on their minds.


Once dinner was over and the dishes were in the dishwasher, Mulder
turned his attention to his beloved aquarium. Skinner, meanwhile had to
review his files on Atlanta so that he could grill the regional head
once he got there.


It was late by the time he finished and he was just glad that Mulder
went to bed ahead of him. However, once he got in bed and Mulder turned
to him in his sleep, Skinner had to admit that it was always nice
having Mulder in his arms.



For the next few days, not having Skinner around was somewhat of a
relief for Mulder.  Skinner calling every night from Atlanta was even
pleasant, a change of pace for both of them. Things were even worse
than Skinner feared in Atlanta, and he had to stay over the weekend. He
stayed a total of eight days there and when he came home, it was to an
empty house.  Mulder had been in Duluth since two days ago on a case.
Skinner had to spring Taylor from where he was boarded and at least,
the animal was profusely happy to see him.  Once home, the DD then
checked Mulder's precious fish to make sure that none died during
Mulder's two-day absence.


. . . . . . . . . . . .


Mulder was in B.Dalton, searching for that all important book.  He had
finally made up his mind that he really had to buy a book.  After all,
no one in Duluth knew him so he might as well take the plunge no matter
what the cashier thought.


He had hoped to go to the mall by himself, but for some
reason, Scully decided to come along even when he didn't want her with
him.  She said that she was going to Dayton's to buy something.


So Mulder perused the shelves until he got to the one set of shelves
labeled Sex and Health.  He looked to the right and left to make sure
that the coast was clear before he approached his intended set of
books. He finally found one that seemed promising and grabbed it.


Mulder was scanning the book and was beginning to get engrossed in it.
When a young couple started browsing alongside him, Mulder became
uncomfortable, since the book he had in hand had quite a prominent
title, leaving no doubt as to its contents.  He took the book and read
it over to the Travel shelf.


"Hi, Mulder."


Mulder nearly jumped out of his skin.  He turned around and found
Scully right behind him, with a lot Dayton's green paper bags in her
two tiny hands.  He hid the book behind his back.


"Thinking of traveling somewhere?" Scully asked.


"What?"


"Are you and Skinner planning a holiday?" Scully asked again.  It was
then that Mulder remembered that he was in the travel section.


"Yes," Mulder grabbed a Frommer's Guide to Paris.  "We're thinking of
Paris."


"Oh, how romantic," Scully said, walking over to the Science section.


Mulder went over to the cashier with the Frommer's Guide and Impotence
and You.  He stared down at the cashier belligerently, daring her to
think her worst of him.  She didn't notice at first, too busy with the
scanner.  But as she was putting the book into a paper bag, she noticed
"that" book and looked into Mulder's face.  He kept staring her down and
was satisfied when she looked away hastily.


Let her think he was impotent, Mulder thought.  At this point, it didn't
matter if the whole world thought he was impotent as long as it would
help Skinner.


"What'd you buy?" Scully made a grab for his package, but fortunately,
Mulder was able to keep it out of her reach.


"It's the Paris guide and the Rome guide," Mulder partially lied.  "I
think it would be fun to go there."


It took two more days before the case was wrapped up. Mulder still
called home and talked to Skinner every night he was in Duluth.  It
seemed that they were glaringly polite with each other.


But once he was home, Mulder was just too weary to think much of
anything when he warmly kissed and embraced Skinner. He was just too
glad to be home.  He took a shower to wash away the grime of travel and
had to write his report because Wilson expected him to hand over even
just a rough draft tomorrow.


Mulder fell asleep at his desk again and Skinner shook him awake to
tell him to go to bed.  It was only nine o'clock but he was just so
tired. Mulder simply shut his eyes once he was in bed and fell into a
restful sleep.


Mulder's luggage was still strewn around the room, getting underfoot.
So Skinner took it upon himself to unpack the agent's luggage.  He was
sorting out the socks, underwear and shirts headed for the laundry when
he saw the white book with its title.



Skinner at first was furious.  He had the mind to wake up the younger
man.  But curiosity got the better of him and once Mulder's luggage was
cleared away, Skinner felt he had no choice but to read the book.


The DD read Impotence and You, shutting out everything, even Mulder's
talking in his sleep.  When he himself got too tired, he put the book
down, wrapped his arms around Mulder and fell asleep as well.


The next morning, Skinner felt Mulder surreptitiously patting his
groin. The older man smiled to himself and pretended to move in his
sleep. Mulder withdrew his hand at once and lay against him.


It was then that Mulder saw The Book on Skinner's night stand.  At
first, he thought it was just an illusion under the dim dawn light.
But as he craned his neck, he knew that it really was the book.


"Okay, Fox," Skinner murmured sleepily.  "Let's make an appointment
with Cormier this afternoon."


Skinner wasn't as anxious with seeing the doctor than if he went there
without some in depth background information. That morning, when Mulder
was checking to see if he had a morning erection, which was separate
from an erection of frank sexual arousal, it had fueled Skinner's
suspicions that there was hope after all.  The visit to Cormier just
confirmed the diagnosis.  The doctor readjusted Skinner's dose of
propanolol, which he took for his hypertension.   A
medication for angina was added, which he was supposed to take for two
weeks.  Cormier explained that although Skinner didn't have angina,
this particular tablet had been found to have a pleasant side effect in
men.


"Walter, just because I cuddle up to you sometimes, that doesn't mean I
want sex," Mulder said that night.  They had talked about Skinner
misreading the agent that last time. "The last thing I want is for you
to feel pressured by me. It's the same way when we were first together;
you never forced me in anything.  You were always asking if it was
okay, what we were doing."


"Okay, honey," Skinner said, looking at Mulder's eyes as they each lay
on their sides in bed.  "I'm glad you bought that book."


It was next week before Skinner was confident enough to try things out.
He woke up with a more than respectable erection in the middle of the
night.  He was very hard, as a matter of fact.  It had been almost one
a half months since they really last made love so when Skinner was
nudging Mulder awake quite insistently, Mulder was so eager but had to
restrain himself so as not to intimidate the older man.


Skinner took his own sweet time, wanting this to be extra special.  He
knew that his erection was going to last and he wanted both of them to
savor the moment.  He slowly undressed Mulder while the agent undressed
him.  Mulder was kissed while Skinner was also kissed.


"It's back, Walter," Mulder murmured unnecessarily as he applied
Astroglide on his partner as the older man did to him also.  Skinner
groaned heavily as he slowly sank into Mulder, the warm silky passage
so long missed.


"Baby, I love you," Skinner said.  Mulder's legs were drawn up over
Skinner's shoulders.  "You've been so good to me."


Skinner poured all his skills into this particular act; after all, he
had to show that he still had it.  Each stroke was perfect, perfect in
its depth, each grind of his hips into Mulder just allowed maximum
prostate massage, each withdrawal of his rampant member almost to its
complete length, each word of encouragement further inflaming both of
them.


Heavy breathing, panting and sighs eventually turned into cries of
delight as the tension between them built to the next level of arousal.
Skinner's teachers of long ago would have been very proud with the way
he had Mulder under him, releasing frenzied involuntary cries and
whimpers of pleasure.  Strategic points on Mulder's anatomy were
compressed such that his orgasm was delayed and he was taken to ever
increasing heights of sensation as Skinner stopped and restarted
everything.


"Walter, I can't take it anymore," Mulder arched his back as he felt
Skinner abort another wave of impending orgasm in him by gently
pressing on his penis.  Mulder's eyes were glazed as the pleasure was
more than overwhelming him, causing tears to overflow as he was denied
again.  The bone deep searing heat in his pelvis had built up to an
incredible degree.  It had never been like this before. "Please,
Walter, make me come."


Mulder could hardly speak.  All he could understand at this point was
that Skinner's big, thick, long penis was relentlessly but ever so
leisurely going in and out of him, that it was the most unimaginable
sensation, that it was a well-loved searing heat that filled him to
perfection, that every inch of his skin tingled.  Even the very roots
of his hair felt different.  Mulder's incoherent cries were very loud
now, well past caring what the neighbors might think.


Skinner finally released his hold on the underside of Mulder's member,
and joyfully let go as well.  Even in the midst of Mulder's orgasm,
Skinner went at him hard and fast and furious and deep.  Both of them
were too far gone as raging testosteronal instincts took over.  It had
never been so raw and primal between them, two very vital healthy men
going at each other, the very essence of male to male love. The bed
shook and Mulder had a series of orgasms, each one after the other at
such a furious pace that he didn't know it was multiple.  All he knew
was that it seemed quite prolonged.  Skinner's heavy groans and growls
even filled up his ears.  Sensory overload ensued and he blacked out
just as Skinner roared the arrival of his own.


When Skinner's eyes opened and as he slowly regained his breath, he
realized that Mulder indeed had blacked out. Mulder was limp as Skinner
dismounted.  The older man chuckled tiredly as he rose and went to the
bathroom to clean them both up.


The same thing first happened to Skinner so long ago in Bangkok where
the lady he had chosen turned out to be the most skilled courtesan of
the house.  The mama-san had allowed him to have her at the ordinary
price instead of the thousands of dollars she normally commanded
because they had fancied his youth and cleanliness, they said.  It was
the other way around, however; it felt like she was having him. He had
blacked out at that time, too.  He used to think that it was just
storytelling when some of the guys said it happened, but he knew better
after that.
And Skinner was very pleased with himself that he could elicit such a
degree of response from Mulder.  He cleaned up the unconscious younger
man and once done, scooped him into his arms and embraced him hard.


Mulder woke up a full half-hour later, all his muscles languid, feeling
drained but happy.  His pelvis had that deep pervading congestion, a
feeling he was associating with another soul-shattering bout of sex
with Skinner.



"Walter, did I black out?" All Mulder remembered was having
an incredible prolonged ejaculation then when he saw Skinner, he saw
that the older man was watching CNN and was in his pajamas.  He
distinctly remembered that both of them were nude when they started to
make love.


"Yes, you blacked out," Skinner chuckled.  Mulder got on top of him,
still wanting some contact.  "Thank you, Fox."


"Shouldn't I be thanking you?  I never came so hard that I blacked
out."


"No, I do appreciate you seeing me through this," Skinner said as he
kissed Mulder's hair and running a hand over his bare back and
buttocks. "That you bought that book, even when it must have been
humiliating for you.  You also went with me to see Cormier when I could
have gone alone. Then you waited until I was ready for you."


"Isn't this what it is about?  Seeing each other, being with each other
during times like these?"

"Yeah, just keep reminding me, okay?"


CHAPTER EIGHT


DUAL MOMS


Mrs. Jackson smiled as she heard a muttered curse from Skinner.  The
two were helping her move to her apartment.  She sold her house,
because it was now too big for one and her new apartment was nicely
pleasant, situated in a big old house.  It wasn't far from her friends
and was nearer the grocery and the library than where she used to live.
It was a good thing that it was just on the first floor, so that the
two tall men helping her move didn't have to bring  her couch up a
flight of stairs.


Her son and his family moved to California five months earlier so she
was all alone now in DC.  She had planned to look for movers but when
Mulder had found this out, he insisted that he and Skinner would move
her things for her instead, seeing that she was on a tight budget.  So
Skinner found himself volunteered by the agent for heavy manual labor
this weekend.


It was almost noon but the heavy pieces of furniture were now in place.
These were the couch, the dining room table and her bed.  Skinner and
Mulder protested, not even allowing her to move boxes from the U-Haul.


Everyone rested at noontime and Mrs. Jackson outdid herself even in the
midst of the move by preparing a cold but sumptuous lunch.  By the time
they finished eating, Skinner was sprawled on the couch taking a much
needed nap.


"It must be hard getting old," Mulder told Mrs. Jackson with that
mischievous gleam in his eye.  They were in the process of moving boxes
into her new bedroom.



"I heard that," Skinner called out with his eyes still closed.  Mulder
laughed.


"It must be hard moving around when your back is about to give way,"
Mulder said evilly, his voice intentionally loud.


"Mulder," the DD warned.


Someone sure is sensitive about growing old, Mulder though, looking
with affection at the man sprawled on the couch.  Mulder continued to
get boxes from the U-Haul trailer while Mrs. Jackson directed him on
where to put them.


"It's a good thing Walter is in good health, Fox," Mrs. Jackson said.
"When my Ken was just Walter's age, he already had quite a few problems
because of his smoking and drinking.  So you take care of Walter, make
sure he always eats right, goes to the doctor at any sign of illness
and takes his medicine and make life easy for  him.  It's a difficult
job he has.  And you keep in mind that he is a good man."


"I love him more than anything," Mulder muttered in a low voice.
Sometimes, his love for Skinner made his throat ache.


"My one advice?" Mrs. Jackson patted his arm.  "Always make him know
that you do love him, everyday if possible and not just before, during
or after making love.  Now don't blush, Fox.  I also know that those
words come out in the heat of it all, but saying you love him even when
you're just cleaning up the kitchen for example, that's even more
important.  Because once he is gone, you don't want to have any
regrets."


Mulder nodded, looking at Skinner's sleeping form through the bedroom
door.


They let Skinner take his nap as they unloaded more of the trailer.  By
the time Mulder was pooped, Skinner was refreshed enough to finish the
job.


Mrs. Jackson profusely thanked the two.  It wasn't often that one can
collar an FBI director and agent to move furniture for you.  As she
closed the door, she promised herself to bake a cake for them. She and
Mulder knew that Skinner had a sweet tooth but wouldn't admit it to
himself.


"It's only three o'clock, Walter," Mulder said as he drove his
Cherokee.  "We can still get Taylor and head for the cabin."


"Sure, as long as I'm not going to do any more lifting," Skinner said.


"Thanks for helping me move Mrs. Jackson's things," Mulder said,
mindful of the housekeeper's advice.  He patted Skinner's thigh
lovingly and the older man took his hand and held it briefly before
Mulder had to take his hand away and put it back on the wheel.


`Just give me sufficient warning next time when you're on one of your
projects," Skinner said.  Mulder had given him short notice last night
and he was annoyed this Saturday morning when he woke up.  He did look
forward to their cabin weekends.  But the younger man's Boy-Scout-do-a-
good-deed mood was unpredictable and more than once Skinner had been
caught flatfooted just like today.


They had to stop at the Safeway to stock up on provisions.  Taylor was
left by the entrance.  It was too hot and Skinner didn't want to leave
his dog in the Cherokee.  He loaded up his shopping cart and was about
to check out but he couldn't find Mulder.  He finally found the agent
at the greeting card section and he cringed.


It must be near Mulder's mother's birthday.  Skinner correctly surmised
because it was summer.  True enough, his lover was perusing a big very
pink card and as Skinner looked over his shoulder, he read the
saccharine doggerel that Mulder preferred to send to his mother.
Skinner knew that the agent viewed his mother as someone out of Norman
Rockwell's Americana motherhood.


Skinner uneasily waited for Mulder to make his choice.  The DD learned
long ago not to interfere with Mulder's dealing with his mother.  The
younger man then picked the biggest, frilliest and pinkest card and put
it in the cart along with the other groceries.


What the DD liked to do was shred that card.  It looked so deceptive, a
piece of heavy printed paper, innocent and feminine beside the rest of
their purchases, instead of the emotion-laden time bomb it really was.
Skinner knew that once Mulder mailed the card he would be on his toes
for up to two weeks afterwards, hoping against hope that this time his
mother might call.  Then he would be hurt again.  It was a masochistic
ritual that Mulder went through every few months when Christmas,
Mother's day and her birthday passed.


But Skinner prevented himself from saying anything as he paid for the
groceries with his credit card.  It would be just like kicking Taylor
if he tried to make Mulder realize that it would be a futile exercise
once more.


By the time they got to the cabin, it was dark.  Ironically, it was
Mulder who complained of a backache so after a light dinner, Skinner
sent him to bed after making sure he took some pain relievers.  Then
the DD patrolled the grounds of the cabin for the night.

He vaguely knew that it was something territorial and that was probably
the reason that Taylor always came along on these evening walks.  The
dog considered the cabin his territory, too.


Skinner took his time with his evening rounds.  He had been doing these
walks since he was a boy so he only needed the moonlight as he checked
the boathouse, the garage, both back and front yards, the gate and the
road.  He knew that if he had been more diligent in this evening
exercise, he probably might have noticed Bill Mulder and his minions
and he wouldn't have those painful eight months when he and Mulder were
separated.  Finally satisfied there were no lurkers in the bushes and
no strange cars on the deserted road, Skinner and Taylor went back
inside.  The DD punched in the code and activated the security system
before he went upstairs.  Because there would be no lovemaking for
tonight with Mulder's backache, Skinner allowed Taylor into the
bedroom.


It was too warm to wear pajamas so Skinner settled for his underwear.
When he emerged from the bathroom, he saw Taylor lying down beside
Mulder's sleeping form.  Seeing Skinner's disapproving glare, the dog
slunk off to the carpet.  The DD knew that Mulder probably slept with
the dog whenever Skinner was out of town.


Skinner slipped into bed not bothering to get under the light sheet.
He turned on the television to catch the late news.  A hand on Mulder's
bare skin satisfied the DD that Mulder wasn't running a fever from
today's exertions or that the backache was some sort of summer flu.


Mulder woke up before Skinner the next day.  It was a hot day an the
agent escaped from the older man's tight embrace.  Both of them were
hot and stick.  It was already nine and he knew that Skinner went to
church at ten.


"Walter," Mulder shook him gently.  "It's Sunday and it's nine
o'clock."


Skinner groaned and refused to wake up.  Mulder shook him again and
then yet again.  This time, the older man finally awakened.  The sheets
were clammy and rumpled from their sweat.  It was hotter than Skinner
anticipated or else he would have turned on the airconditioner
yesterday.  Mulder directed him to the bathroom and once he had his
shower, he was fully awake.


Because the room was so hot, Mulder shed his T-shirt and shorts and was
now sprawled on the bed watching the Cartoon Channel.  Skinner chuckled
as he emerged from the bathroom and shook his head at the wanton way
Mulder was positioned.  But he really couldn't spare the fifteen to
twenty minutes of playtime or else he would be late for the service.


"You're deliberately doing that, aren't you?" Skinner asked as he
dressed in a cotton short sleeved shirt and khakis.


"What?"


"Displaying yourself like that just before I go to church," Skinner
said.


"What?" The agent was engrossed in the cartoon.


"Nothing," Skinner laughed again.  He bent down to kiss the agent
before he left.  "Back still hurts?"


"Huh?"


"Forget it."




CHAPTER NINE


FOREST SOAPSUDS AND DISAPPOINTED APPLEBEE GAGGLE


The morning light was seeping into the bedroom window as Skinner woke
up.  He groaned when he saw that it was past ten o'clock.  The past
week had been hectic and he was really tired last night.  Mulder hadn't
awakened him when he left the bed.  Skinner stretched and he heard his
joints pop.  He really was getting old, by the sound of his joints.
Well, fishing would just have to be postponed for tomorrow morning.


Skinner smiled when he recalled a month ago that Mulder had finally
agreed to go fishing with him.  It had taken six years, but Mulder was
finally losing his wariness on water.  The agent had only been slightly
seasick (lakesick?) and was triumphant when he caught three fish.


The DD finally stood up and looked at the view of the lake from the
window.  From where he stood, he could also see the backyard and the
forest at the side of the house.  At the corner of his eye, Skinner saw
Taylor scamper by.  Was that soapsuds on him?


Skinner shook his head to clear it.  He wasn't sure at what he saw.  He
opened the window and stuck out his head.  He didn't hear Taylor's bark
so he dismissed it.  Then there it was again.  A flash of dog fur with
definite soapsuds passed by again.



"Mulder!" Skinner roared.


Mulder's head stuck out from below and Skinner fumed when he saw that
Mulder had that sheepish look on his face. The soap bubbles and lather
that coated his arms up to his elbows only aggravated matters.


"Did you see him?" Mulder asked, looking up to the second story window.
"He escaped."   Mulder added unnecessarily.


"There!" Skinner pointed to the forest area where he saw the labrador
expertly evading Mulder in the trees.  Bits of dirt and loose leaves no
clung to the animal's wet coat.


Skinner hurriedly dressed and bounded out of the house to help catch
the seemingly laughing dog.  After ten minutes of dog tag, Taylor
finally tired of the game and dropped panting onto Skinner's
disapproving feet.  Skinner reprimanded the dog until he seemed
sufficiently contrite.


Mulder breathlessly returned and smiled.  His hair was plastered on his
head and his T-shirt was smeared with dog shampoo lather, stray dog fur
and leaves.


"Come on, Taylor," Mulder grabbed sufficiently hold on the dog's now
very dirty fur.  "Bath time again.  Uhm, Walter, why don't you go
fishing or something first?  I don't think it would do you any good to
see the house until I've cleaned it."


Skinner tsked in annoyance but decided to take Mulder's advice.
Although it was high noon and the sun was beating down fiercely, he
decided to do what Mulder suggested.  He got his fishing hat from the
garage to protect his head and his tackle box and fishing gear and went
fishing.  He didn't catch any fish after an hour on the lake but he saw
Mulder with a sufficiently dry and clean Taylor beside him waving from
the shore.


"Hey, Walter!" the younger man yelled as Skinner rowed in.  "Let's grab
a bite to eat.  You haven't had breakfast yet, have you?"


"You can go check the house now,"  Mulder continued as he helped pull
the boat into the boathouse.  "It's as clean as you like it."


"Let's just eat out, okay?" Skinner suggested.


The agent affectionately put an arm around Skinner's shoulder and they
went back into the cabin.  Skinner grudgingly admitted that Mulder did
clean up the place so there wasn't any trace of Taylor's mischief.  He
went upstairs to take a shower and came down to find the two members of
his family slouched on the couch, with Mulder reading a Lonegunman
publication and Taylor chewing on rawhide.


"Let's go," the older man said, one hand ruffling Mulder's hair while
the other patted Taylor's rump.  They all piled into the Cherokee with
Mulder at the wheel.


Mulder decided on the local Applebee's.  Simple fare for an
uncomplicated day.  They left Taylor tied near the entrance and walked
in.  It didn't escape Skinner's notice that a group of young women in a
booth had glanced at Mulder with more than passing interest, taking in
his lover's good looks.  Mulder was dressed in just an old T-shirt and
Skinner's walk shorts, bagging at the hips and wore dark glasses.  He
didn't look particularly fashionable but he was tanned nicely and his
hair was bleached to a golden brown from the summer sun.


The agent laughed quietly as they got into a booth just opposite them
and the women continued to give him the eye.  Apparently, he'd also
noticed that the women were looking at him.  The waitress took their
orders and Skinner stood up for a minute just to check that Taylor
wasn't getting overheated outside the restaurant.  As he returned, he
saw Mulder wiggling his left hand at the women.  Was the agent showing
them his ring?


Skinner sat back down into the booth and to his surprise and
consternation, Mulder leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth.
That move created a stir at the women's booth and after a few minutes,
they hurriedly left.



"What was that for?"  Skinner said annoyed.  Mulder shook his head and
laughed again.


"I just wanted to show them that I was taken," Mulder said mildly.
"Besides, they were at least fifteen years younger than me."


"I'm twelve years older than you," Skinner muttered.  Their food came,
a taco salad for Skinner and a dripping cheese steak sandwich for
Mulder.


"Yeah, you're twelve years older but I'm mature for my age," Mulder
countered.  "That's why we're compatible."


Skinner snorted.  Mulder was in one of his crazy moods and to Skinner
that usually meant that Mulder was horny.  The older man's suspicions
were confirmed when they headed back home.


The agent deliberately flirted with him the whole way home.  Once
there, Skinner wasted no time dragging Mulder up to the bedroom where
he determinedly undressed them both.


"I'm glad you took the hint," Mulder laughed and deeply kissed his
lover.  "It's been a happy day for me, Walter."



"Skinner leaned back on the headboard in a semi-sitting position as
Mulder busily applied lubricant on the older man.  The agent then
turned on his backside to Skinner and moaned as lubricant was smeared
on his bottom, too.


They didn't need much preliminaries this time.  With Skinner's hands on
his hips, Mulder carefully lowered himself onto the older man.  The DD
grunted as he felt Mulder's silken heat surround him.  He just leaned
back and enjoyed everything.  Mulder did all the work this time,
sitting on Skinner's lap.  Lately, they had been doing it like this
with Mulder wanting to set the pace.  Of course, it was all right with
Skinner because it was about time after all their years together.


"You like doing that, didn't you?" Skinner gasped as he felt himself
being squeezed.


"What. . .this?" Mulder did it again and the older man moaned.  Mulder
smiled happily at his lover, at the way Skinner was enjoying him.


"Shocking. . .those. . .girls, aaahhh. . .at the restaurant<: Skinner
said as Mulder was now earnestly pistoning his hips.  The DD grabbed
Mulder's hips in both of his big hands to help in the motion.


"Yes, they wouldn't believe me when I was showing them my ring,"  the
agent ground himself on his lover's stiff member inside him.  Sweat was
beading on both their torsos as they finally concentrated on their
lovemaking.  Skinner tenderly brushed the hair off Mulder's face.
Mulder leaned his head on Skinner hand as he did all the thrusting.  It
was more like a dance, gentle rocking and embracing, everything so
coordinated and smooth between them.


They came together, not really powerful orgasms.  Just a nice mild
shuddering of their bodies, eliciting contented sighs more than
anything.  A nice comfortable come for a nice comfortable day.


"It's a happy day for me, too,"  Skinner murmured.  Mulder was his love
and his life and even after six blissful years, their hunger for each
other was still insatiable.


He lay back, gathering his breath as his heart stopped its racing.
Mulder had fallen asleep naked atop the bedcovers.  Skinner watched him
in his slumber.  Mulder was still in his prime, the broad shoulders
tapering to a narrow waist.  Hard muscles encased in smooth skin and
those long limbs, which Skinner liked.  A few creases now grazed his
forehead but disappeared in sleep.


Having introduced Mulder to sex with a man, Skinner was initially
fearful that the agent would eventually leave him someday for another,
probably someone younger, someone nearer his own age.  That was one of
the major reasons that he had taken pains to take care of Mulder,
giving him visible signs of his love, starting with the Pooh bear, the
figurines, the ring and the watch.  After all, Mulder was undoubtedly
more handsome, younger and wasn't bald.  Although Mulder had reassured
him that he didn't lack for any in the looks deparment, either, the DD
had absolutely no illusions about himself, that he was middle aged or
even beyond that crossroads, that the years were going to start taking
their toll.


But those fears had been groundless as Mulder had proven to Skinner
time and again.  His attraction to other men had been few and far
between, fleeting crushes that he had mentioned to Skinner without
reservations.  Furthermore, men and women had never ceased flirting
with him but he only found it amusing like today.  But Skinner's
problem with impotence had only proven that Mulder was indeed with him
for the long haul and he hoped that they would grow old together.



END OF BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (2/3)




BACCARAT FIGURINES IV (3/3) by Sean Spencer
seans13@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER IN PART ONE



CHAPTER TEN




FORLORN ROSEWOOD SHOE




At five thirty the alarm buzzed as usual.  It was still dark outside
so after checking that Mulder was turned away from him, Skinner
switched on the nightstand lamp and stretched his muscles.  Mulder was
still asleep, his own clock set at least an hour later.




From under the comforter, Skinner affectionately rubbed the younger
man's bare back and buttocks, Mulder's body comfortably warm in sleep.
They had made love again last night.  There was no trace of the
impotence, since he had been able to achieve more than sufficient
erections that provided satisfaction for both of them.




Reluctantly, Skinner got out of bed and went to the study where he did
his requisite tie on the machine.  Later, as he stood under the spray
of almost hot water, he mentally went over his set of meetings for
today.  Endless meetings from eight to five, sometimes running over
three hours later. Skinner was just thankful that it was Mulder he was
with.



Of course, the agent knew how much work meant to him and understood
that staying late in the Hoover didn't mean that he was avoiding going
home.  That had been one of the main points of contention with his ex-
wife.


He had been Deputy Director for one and a half years now and was
planning to retire within a few months.  Actually, Mulder had been
urging him to stay on, saying that he didn't need to stay for only one
year just because he said so on their fifth anniversary.  But Skinner
was quite set.  He had other plans in his life, plans that he had
hinted at Mulder but they still hadn't discussed in depth.


Once out of the shower, Skinner went about the room as quietly as he
could..  By the time he was fully dressed, it was only six thirty,
still dark outside.  He went over to the bed, looked down at Mulder's
rumpled head and smiled to himself.  Mulder was clutching a pillow to
him and Skinner wondered if the agent was dreaming of someone else.
He sat down by Mulder and bent down to kiss his neck and forehead like
always.


"Hey, baby," Skinner whispered.  Normally, he didn't awaken Mulder
with his good bye kisses, but this morning he wanted to do so.  "Fox,
honey. . ."


Mulder opened a reluctant eye and turned on his back. Skinner put a
hand over the agent's chest and kissed him again.


"I'll take Taylor for a walk before I leave," Skinner told him.
Mulder closed once again and nodded.


Skinner took his two briefcases downstairs and turned on the
coffeemaker.  Taylor eagerly bounded around him as Skinner worked him
into his leash.  The dog did his business promptly, and they were back
to the apartment by seven. Skinner drank the coffee and ate a pastry.
He called a number on the phone and verified that his security escort
was downstairs in the back entrance of the building.  It was a back
entrance day today.


Agent Delaney was waiting for him and Skinner got in front as usual.
They exchanged morning pleasantries as the car took the number three
route to the Hoover.  There were six ways to get him to the office and
the one that day was predetermined by the table of random numbers that
were updated every few days.  The number three route was the scenic
route and it kept Skinner from having to talk to Delaney since he
looked at the prosperous suburban houses, some with kids already busy
out in their front yards catching the last few days of freedom before
school started.


Although it was late August, there was a definite morning chill
already as fall was starting to sneak in.  They were at a stop light
in the suburban intersection when two cars both coming from different
directions on the four-way street stopped.  Skinner sensed that
something was wrong.  Why would the two cars be stopped when their
lights were supposedly green?


Delaney was beginning evasive maneuvers when the roar of a motorcycle
came from the rear and a flash of automatic gunfire filled the Bureau
car with blood.


. . . . . . . . . . . . .


Fox Mulder was fixing his paper that Wednesday morning, getting ready
to join the emergency VCS meeting.  AD Wilson told him that he and
Scully should be in that meeting and it was their first agenda for
that day.  Scully still wasn't in and Mulder was reluctant to go to
that meeting alone. Somehow, her presence always acted as a buffer
from the usual barbs that came his way if he went up there by himself.


A knock on the door caused him to look up.  Whoever that was wasn't
Scully; she didn't need to knock.  It was Agent Gutierrez.  What would
he be doing down here?  Although Mulder had come to trust him to some
degree, he was never comfortable with him.


"Agent Mulder?" the younger agent said, and Mulder wondered why
Gutierrez looked grim and harassed at the same time.  "I have some bad
news and I think you should know before you go up to VCS."


"What is it?"


"There has been an incident at Rosewood an hour ago," Gutierrez began.
"The Deputy Director's car was found at the corner of Metcalfe and
Cooper roads.  Agent Delaney was killed but the Deputy Director's body
wasn't at the scene."


Mulder heard a roar in his head.  It was happening all over again.
Something bad happening to someone he was close to. But please, please
not Walter!


"Agent Mulder, they are still verifying if all the blood at the scene
was Delaney's.  There were no witnesses and it was early morning.  We
don't know if the Deputy Director was injured."


Scully entered the office and saw Gutierrez.  Mulder's pallor struck
her and, at first, Scully had the impression that Gutierrez was
harassing her partner.  It was far from the truth when Gutierrez gave
her the bare facts.


Then Scully suddenly realized the nature of this emergency meeting.
They were supposed to be there in ten minutes. Scully thanked the
younger man on the advance information just before he left, looking
regretfully at Mulder over his shoulder.


"Mulder are you all right?"  Mulder was staring into space and didn't
look good at all.  "I don't think you should go to that meeting."


"I'm going, Scully," Mulder said tersely.  "Please don't stop me."


Both of them were there at the required time and sat at one end of the
big conference table.  Most of the VCS were there and a lot of them
were still unaware of the assault of Skinner.  Everyone quieted down
when the Director, a host of AD's and the NSA stepped into the room.


There was an uneasy buzz as the Director formally announced that
Skinner's car was attacked, resulting in the death of Agent Delaney.
Because the facts from the crime scene were just coming in, as far as
they could determine, it seemed like it was a professional job
involving more than one vehicle.


It was then that the crime scene photographs wee passed around.  There
wasn't enough time to make slides.  In fact, all of the photos just
came from digital cameras on site and
were printed a scant half hour ago, as the crime scene detail were on
line with the Bureau.


Scully could see that some of the younger agents of the VCS were
visibly upset upon viewing the photographs.  When the pictures came
her way, she held onto to them, not passing them to Mulder.  Delaney's
face wasn't even recognizable. That was what had upset the VCS.  Some
of them knew Delaney personally.  But Scully likewise saw the close up
shots of Skinner's shattered eyeglasses and a shoe, both covered with
blood.  Scully was unobtrusively trying to pass the photographs on to
the people beyond Mulder, but Mulder grabbed her wrists in an iron
grip.


"Let me see," Mulder fiercely murmured to her.  Scully really didn't
want to but Mulder pried the photos from her. Scully worriedly looked
at him as he lingered over the pictures of the eyeglasses and the
shoe.  Everyone assumed that Mulder was upset also because of Delaney.


With a sinking heart, Scully listened as assignments were distributed
and she and Mulder turned out to be on the profiling team, Mulder
being one of the more senior members of the team.  In face, it was a
big team consisting of the more accomplished profilers of the Bureau
with two who were retired already, but legendary enough to be called
in.


Then a junior agent entered the conference room and murmured something
to the Director's ear.


"We have to work fast, ladies and gentlemen," Freeh announced grimly.
"The labs just released the report on the bloodwork.  It has been
confirmed that some of the blood on the scene was the Deputy
Director's.  Let's hop to it."


Mulder visibly sagged at the last bit of news as the people dispersed
to their various assignments.  Scully then made a decision.  She
excused herself and told Mulder that she would meet him in the
basement after a few minutes.


Scully followed the crowd of people and eventually ended up in the
Director's office.  She insisted on seeing him, telling his assistant
that it was urgent and pertained to the case.


It took all of Scully's courage to ignore the irritated look on the
Director's face.


"Sir, I think you should know that I have some vital information that
might affect the outcome of this case," she started, her tone of voice
enough to grab the Director's attention.


"What I am about to tell you should be held in strictest confidence,
sir," Scully continued.  "Because the involved parties don't know what
I am going to divulge."


"All right, Agent. . .Scully, is it?" Freeh said.  "I need all the
information I can get.  But why didn't you bring it up in the meeting
if the information is vital to the case?" I'm sure that it would have
been useful. . ."


"No, sir," Scully interrupted.  "I just want your promise that
anything that will be said in a few minutes will not leave this room."


Freeh nodded and Scully proceeded.


"I think that you should know that Deputy Director Skinner and Agent
Fox Mulder are lovers," Scully crisply said.  The Director just
blinked at her.  "They have been living together for almost five
years, sir.  But Mulder was assigned to profile the case but I don't
know if he will be able to handle it, sir."


"Walter never told me that. . .well, it's not something he would have
told just anyone," Freeh said after a full minute, biting his lower
lip.  "It's quite simple then. Agent Mulder should be pulled out of
the investigation at once.  In fact, someone should be with Agent
Mulder on a counseling capacity, just like for any relative who is in
a hostage situation.  He shouldn't have been in that meeting at all.
Did he see the photographs?"


Scully nodded and the Director cursed.  He then called Mulder.  Scully
tensed, having no idea how her partner would react since she went over
his head and told someone about him and Skinner.  But in her heart,
she knew that she was right.


She had seen Mulder's face when the Director announced that Skinner's
blood was found in the car.  The way he had tensed his jaw and slumped
told her enough.  And when Mulder finally showed up at the Director's
office, Scully's fears were well founded.


In the scant minutes since the meeting, Mulder already looked like a
wreck.  He tried to hide his eyes by wearing his glasses, but that
just called attention to his trembling hands, which shook each time he
adjusted his glasses on his nose.


"You told him?" Mulder didn't even greet the Director.  He had a
resigned tone of voice with just a hint of anger.


"We don't have time for accusations, Agent Mulder," the Director
interrupted.  "I will not entirely pull you out of the investigation.
I know that the last thing Walter would want is to call attention to
your relationship with him.
But I will not allow you to have a direct hand in this.  I know for a
fact that it would be something Walter wouldn't want either.  I will
put you to work on his security detail,
where they're retracing his steps for the past months.  I understand
that Agent Gutierrez is cognizant of you and Walter; therefore, you'll
work with him making a list of probable suspects.


"Because of the privacy that you both want, I think it would be best
if Agent's Gutierrez and Scully will be the only ones who will monitor
your home phones as part of routine surveillance in these situations."


Scully breathed a sigh of relief that Mulder didn't seem to argue.  It
was a logical solution to the problem and still elegant enough not to
call attention to Mulder being out of the profiling team.  Scully was
somewhat impressed by Freeh's quick thinking as they walked out of the
office.


"Mulder, I had to tell him,"  Scully said apologetically. "You know
that being right in the middle of this could jeopardize the
investigation if you're so emotionally involved in this."


Mulder nodded grimly.  He was just too quiet and Scully didn't like
it.  Both of them still went to the crime scene where Mulder was still
too quiet.


Delaney's body had long since been brought to the morgue but his blood
and brains were still all over the car.  Mulder wanted to get
Skinner's glasses but Scully stopped him in time.  The glasses and
shoe were still in their places, just where they had been found.


"Those were his favorite shoes, Scully."


That was the only thing Mulder said as she drove him home.


Agent Gutierrez was already waiting at the seventeenth floor hallway
when they got there.  Mulder had earlier requested Mrs. Jackson to go
home; the housekeeper was purposefully kept in the dark for security
reasons.  Gutierrez and Scully started setting up the equipment and
attaching it to the telephone.


Scully looked up from her unraveling of the wires as she heard some
rushed footsteps upstairs.


"Excuse me, Gutierrez," Scully said, standing up.  "I'll just check
upstairs."


Scully knocked, but Mulder wasn't answering.  She let herself into the
bedroom and still Mulder wasn't there.
Then she heard the sounds of retching from the adjoining bathroom.


"Mulder, are you all right?" Scully called, knowing that
whatever he answered, he sure didn't sound all right.  The
retching continued and Scully just threw caution to the wind
and entered the bathroom where she found her partner huddled
over the toilet.  She sat by the tub and held the back of
his neck with a cool hand until he finished.


She gave him a glass of water to rinse out his mouth and he
stumbled out of the bathroom.  Scully followed and saw that
her partner was seated on the bed, looking out the window.


"Scully, what if we don't find him?" Mulder asked her.


"I don't know, Mulder," Scully said truthfully, trying to
keep out the catch in her voice.  She felt so for her
partner, how devastated he was.  "We both know that the
fresher the trail, the faster we'll find him."


Mulder nodded and got into a fresh T-shirt.  He didn't even
argue when Scully insisted that he rest for an hour at
least.  He lay on the bed and even allowed Scully to tuck
him in.  Scully was getting worried.


Scully went down and saw that Gutierrez had finished setting
up the equipment.  Periodically, they would get calls from
the rest of Skinner's security team, where they would confer
on background ckecks of the various people Skinner had seen
on an official capacity.  Gutierrez had confided that the
Deputy Director's security team was being as thorough as
possible, because the whole affair had made them look bad.


It was an hour later when Mulder finally showed up.  He did
look better, and furthermore, he looked angry.


"Okay, let's start working," he said.



CHAPTER ELEVEN


GRAVEYARD GRIEF


Deputy Director Skinner was bound and gagged in the trunk of
the car.  From what he could estimate, he had been here for
two hours.  His leg hurt like hell each time he moved.  The
smell of blood was everywhere, mainly from his clothes and
face where Delaney's blood and brains and skull still clung
to him.  He knew that there was a gunshot wound on his calf,
too.


The trunk was such a tight space that it took him a few
minutes to just turn around.  His face encountered a few
wires and he correctly concluded that those were for the
taillights.  He successfully wrapped a shoeless foot around
the wires at the opposite end to pull them out.  It was the
only think he could do at the moment.  The lack of brake
lights from the car might prompt a patrolman to pull them
over.


It was three in the afternoon when another meeting was
called.  Scully and Mulder left for the Hoover after wisely
dropping off Taylor to be boarded for a while.  Gutierrez
stayed at the apartment although there had been no calls.
Mulder mad a list of more people to do background checks on
and Gutierrez said he would make sure that those were done.


Before heading for the conference room, they detoured to the
Director's office.  The Director wanted to inform Mulder of
new developments before announcing it to the whole team.


To Mulder's relief, there was no one there except for the
Director.  Mulder had a deep foreboding, wondering if they
were called in because Skinner's body had been found.  He
braced himself for the bad news.


"Fox, there has been a confirmation that Walter is alive,"
the Director began.  Mulder released the breath he was
holding.  "There was a patrolman shot and wounded two hours
ago.  He stopped a car for a busted tail light and heard
someone in the trunk."


Scully shuddered as she remembered that she herself had been
in the same situation one before.


"It was in Tennessee so we know they're headed south," The
Director continued.  "But that isn't the only news."


"Fox, I'm only showing you these pictures to let you know
that Walter is alive," Freeh said, handing over some printed
pages.  "Two of these came by e-mail to my office at two
thirty."


Mulder saw the pictures.  He shut his eyes and hung his head
after briefly viewing them.  It showed Skinner bound and
gagged and blindfolded beside a box buried beneath the
ground. The Deputy Director's white shirt was spattered with
blood and so were his trousers.  The next picture showed him
being put in the box with some signs of struggle.


"From what we see of the spatter pattern, most of the blood
might be Delaney's  and Walter does not seem to be injured
except for the right lower leg.  The photo analysts say that
there is a small rent on the cloth that might indicate that
it is a gunshot wound.  Whoever sent these pictures are
still not demanding anything as of now.  They're still
playing with us."


"Walter has high blood pressure,"  Mulder whispered.  "If he
stays in that box, he might have a stroke."


"We're moving as fast as we can,"  Freeh reassured him.
"They're tracing the computer trail now.  You don't have to
attend the meeting. . ."


"I'll be there," Mulder said with a hard edge to his voice.
"I'd like to go back to the profiling team.  I already made
a list of all possible suspects I could think of.  Sir, I
can handle myself now."


Freeh and Mulder bargained over that and the Director
reluctantly agreed as long as Scully kept an eye on him and
that no signs of undue stress appear.


The meeting was brief and further strategies were laid out.
They adjourned with the different teams going back to their
assigned tasks.  The profiling team went to their war room
where Mulder flinched upon seeing all the pictures of the
crime scenes and the new pictures of Skinner beside the box
plastered all over the bulletin boards.  A diagram of the
blackboard even had Skinner's personal life mapped out for
all to see including the names of all his "dates" for the
past months.  There was also a rough sketch on the board, a
symbol on the box near Skinner's head in the pictures which
was still to be identified.


Fortunately, the profiling team didn't suspect anything
amiss when Mulder and Scully rejoined the team.  They just
thought that the two mavericks preferred to work alone and
didn't bother them too much.  Scully could see that Mulder
was indeed back to work and she watched him from time to
time as points on Skinner's case were argued back and forth.


A break was called two hours later and everyone left except
for Mulder and Scully.  It was well past seven in the
evening.


"Scully, there's something here that I just couldn't get a
handle on," Mulder ran a hand over his hair.  Scully saw his
notepad where all the pertinent facts were randomly written
on various parts of the page.


"Come on, let's get some fresh air,"  Scully urged him.
Reluctantly, Mulder agreed and they took a walk to the
restaurant where they normally took their Monday lunch.


"You okay?" Scully asked again.  Mulder nodded.  He should
be annoyed with her, that she was asking that over and over
since this morning.  But Mulder wasn't; instead, all he felt
was grateful for Scully being such a good friend.


"Hey, I'm sorry about being mad at you this morning , when
you told Freeh about me and Walter," Mulder said. "But you
were right.  I wouldn't know how I would have reacted in the
meetings if Freeh hadn't warned me.  I might have been too
messed up to work properly."


"But why do you need to stay on?" Scully asked, meaning why
Mulder needed to stay in the profiling team, instead of
being on the surveillance team as suggested earlier.


"If this turns out bad, Scully, I'll never forgive myself if
I didn't do my best to help find him," Mulder said his jaw
set hard.  "Walter told me I was good at profiling, really
good.  So I have to use everything I've got to get him
back."


"I understand," Scully sighed.  She just feared for her
friend, the heavy toll it would be if they weren't able to
find the Deputy Director.


Their food arrived and Mulder was luckily able to clean his
plate.  Scully surreptitiously made sure that he did.  This
day might just be too much for him in the end.  Although he
might not be too aware of it, Scully was quite certain that
Mulder could spiral downwards if things did turn bad and one
of the major reasons would be his reliving the trauma of
losing Samantha.


Mulder was in midchew when he abruptly stopped.


"Scully we have to go back," Mulder said urgently.  "I know
who did it."


Mulder rose and left the restaurant, leaving Scully to pay
for their meal in haste.  By the time Scully got out of the
restaurant, she saw Mulder turning the corner as he briskly
walked under the glow of streetlamps.


"Mulder, wait!"


Scully ran as fast as her high heels would take her.  She
finally caught up with him.


"It's the militia, Scully, the Harris militia," Mulder spat
out.  "The weapons that killed Delaney, Walter heading
south, the small insignia on the box.  It all adds up.  We
have to find him, Scully. They're not out to bargain with
anyone.  They intend to leave Walter down there.  There
weren't any provisions in the box like in other similar
kidnapping cases.


"Walter said that the suspects in the bombing scared him.
It's one of the few times I ever heard him say that.  He
told me that after the watched the interrogation of the two
militiamen who were convicted later of the bombings.  He
said that they were fanatical, almost like those Middle
Eastern terrorist groups."


Scully was hard pressed to keep up with him.  By the time
they returned to the Hoover, some of the team members were
already there.


That was when the trouble started.  Mulder had to do a lot
of convincing, because the rest of the team didn't know
Skinner's fears regarding the Harris people while Mulder
couldn't outright tell them why he plucked out that data
seemingly from thin air.  It only made things worse because
Mulder was getting frustrated when they blocked every point
he made.


It was more by default that the team agreed to start the
investigation along those lines with the incarcerated
militia members since no one else had other conclusions
about the case.


. . . . . . . . .


Skinner was able to partially rub off the duct tape from his
mouth and eyes.  He knew he was in a coffin like box, and
that it was pitch black and stuffy.  He yelled himself
hoarse and kicked ineffectually against the box.  He didn't
know if there was an air vent but he knew that he had been
here for more than two hours.  He tried to stay the panic
that was creeping up on him.  He didn't know if this was
going to be his tomb.  His shoulders didn't just ache; the
long hours in the awkward position made it downright
painful.  His cuffed wrists behind his back were bleeding.


At first, he thought that his teeth were chattering from the
cold , but it really wasn't cold in the box at all.  His
teeth were chattering from stark fear.  Skinner forced
himself to breathe more slowly, reciting things to himself
to calm his mind.  He prayed that the Bureau would find him,
that Mulder would find him.


He used his foot, his hands and face, looking for anything
he could use to escape.  The box was clean, not even a
splinter marred its interior.  He didn't even have his
wallet, watch, glasses, necktie and belt.  All were taken
from him.


His leg was aching unbearably and he wasn't sure if it was
turning numb.  The lack of even the tiniest glint of light
was the hardest.  He was so closed in that even if he wasn't
claustrophobic, he sure was approaching that state.


Mercifully, an exhausted sleep claimed him.


The next time he woke up, Skinner was in full panic.  He
didn't know how long he'd been here.  The pitch-blackness
was too much and he yelled at first.  Later, he screamed
himself to exhaustion.  He couldn't even claw himself out of
the box, the handcuffs behind his back not allowing it.  His
shoulders and leg burned.  The struggling was making it hard
to breathe and he was so thirsty.  He didn't know how long
he was screaming.


Chest heaving,  Skinner knew the he should be saving his
energy to stay alive.  Half-remembered childhood prayers
suddenly came to mind and he muttered these to himself.


He didn't even know who put him here.


The whispered prayers provided some comfort and Skinner
tried to keep his mind alert with that.  Later, he couldn't
deny the fullness of his bladder any longer and was
humiliated that there was no choice but to wet himself.


The extreme darkness, the absolute blackness, the oppressive
heat, the humidity his body was engendering, the closeness
and the lack of any sound, his bound hands, all these
contributed to another wave of panic and Skinner screamed.



CHAPTER TWELVE


EVEN SANDWICHES AND CAKE AREN'T ENOUGH


Scully slammed her fists down hard, startling the person
seated across from her.  She looked with contempt at the
inmate.  She knew that she had come a long ways since she
was a green field agent with Luther Lee Boggs.


The militia member she was interrogating was the one they
knew as the loser.  He was just someone with a wavy sense of
what the militia stood for and just joined up to give a
direction in his live.  The other one was the diehard member
and they didn't waste any time with him.


There were three of them breaking down the resolve of the
inmate and it took them hours, but finally, he broke down
when he truly and finally realized that if Skinner was found
dead, he could be an accessory to the crime.  His fifteen
year sentence was looking rosy compared to the alternative.


Finally, once names and locations were obtained, the junior
agent ran to the phone and called the Texas regional office.
Scully ran a hand over the back of her aching neck before
she left the prison, going through the numerous checkpoints
and series of barred doors.


It was thirty six hours since Skinner disappeared and
although the entire Bureau was using its vast resources,
combing every possible nook and cranny, they were still
without tangible clues and leads, except for the description
of the car given by the injured traffic cop and the people
at the internet caf, where the men had uploaded Skinner's
pictures.  The license plate of the vehicle was fake while
the internet caf, people only could give a description.


Scully drove home, not daring to think what she would find
there. She deposited Mulder into her husband's custody
before she left for the prison three hours earlier.  Mulder
growled saying that he didn't need a babysitter but Scully
brooked no nonsense from her partner.  After all, Agent
Gutierrez needed a replacement to continue the surveillance
in Skinner's apartment so Mulder had to agree that staying
with her a few days was logical.  As she expected, he hadn't
slept last night, looking for any tangible leads.  He
already consulted with the Lone Gunmen and they were working
with him.  Likewise, Scully knew that some of Skinner's
powerful relatives were informed of the DD's disappearance
and they were also using their own resources to look for
him.


There was a news blackout on the matter.  The death of Agent
Delaney had been reported in the press as gang related.


By the time Scully was in her driveway, she was dead tired.
It was already ten in the evening.  She wasn't surprised to
find Mulder on the phone in her living room.  He hadn't
shaved and was still in the clothes he wore this morning.
He grimly nodded to her as she passed by him.  She already
informed him of the new leads they had gained upon talking
to the imprisoned militia member.


John, her husband, was already asleep in bed.  He was such
an early sleeper that ten o'clock at night was already
expecting too much of him to stay awake.  However, he moved
as she went about the room , getting out of her clothes and
into sweats.


"How's he been?"  she asked when she saw that John was
finally awake.


"Driven," John muttered.  "Come on, Dana.  I'll fix you a
sandwich."


They walked to the kitchen with their arms around each
other's waists.  Scully sat down and listened to Mulder whom
she could hear from the living room.  Her husband
efficiently fixed two sandwiches.


"Fox hasn't eaten, you know," John ratted on her partner.
"He's been on that phone the minute you left.  But do you
think he'd listen to me?  Of course not.  He won't even stop
a minute to just grab a bite to eat."


Scully shook her head.  After taking a big bite of her
sandwich, she stood up and went to the living room.  After a
minute, she was dragging Mulder bodily into the kitchen with
a firm hand on his belt.  John watched her manhandle her
partner, smiling at her with affection.  There weren't a lot
of women a little bit over five feet who could do that.


Fortunately, the phone was cordless so Mulder's call wasn't
being interrupted in a any way. She forced him to sit down
and placed the sandwich in front of him.  John poured two
glasses of milk.  Mulder hadn't eaten dinner with him
earlier and the doctor in him was worried.  Scully had
ordered him to make sure that Mulder ate but his wife's
partner had refused to be distracted from the phone.  He
knew that Mulder hadn't even had lunch.


Scully always had perfect timing.  The moment Mulder
finished with his call, she grabbed the phone and place it
inside her pants.


"You wouldn't dare get the phone from me while John's here,"
Scully said irritably.  "Now, take five minutes and finish
that sandwich.  I'm not going to allow myself to watch you
run yourself to the ground.  Walter wouldn't either."


That last statement, of course was a low blow but she was
past caring about that at the moment.  Mulder clenched his
jaw angrily at her before wolfing down the sandwich in three
bites.  Seeing that he was eating, John ran to the
refrigerator and got out the cake and shoved a slice at
Mulder.  That would be enough to keep up his blood sugar
until the next mealtime.  Then John sneaked into the living
room and while the partners talked, he hid Mulder's
cellphone into the cushions of the couch.


Scully was able to stall him long enough to force Mulder to
change his clothes.  Only then did she hand him the phone
again from her sweatpants.  Almost instantly, Mulder dialed
up another number and started calling the Texas Bureau.


As of now, Scully was too tired to stay up with Mulder.  She
and John said their good night and went to their room.


"I wouldn't know what to do if anything like that ever
happened to you,"  John said, just glad that Scully's
abduction happened before he knew her.  "It's a miracle that
Fox could even function."


Scully woke up at four in the morning.  She was too worried
about Skinner and her partner.  She slipped out of bed and
went to see how Mulder was.



She found him still where she left him in the living room.
He heard her and turned to face her as she walked in.


"They found one of the militia but he's claiming that he
knows nothing about it,"  Mulder said.  Scully knew better
than to ask him if he'd been to bed.  She knew that look in
Mulder's eyes, when he was on a hunt for a suspect.  But
there was an underlying deep sadness in him.


"It's almost 48 hours, Scully," he whispered after a while.


"I know, Mulder, I'm counting, too,"  she said, giving him a
rare reassuring hug, knowing how futile the gesture was.
Then she went upstairs to get ready for another day of
searching.


. . . . . . . . . . .


Skinner was barely aware of where he was.  He only knew of a
profound all pervading thirst.  He had long ceased to
struggle, not knowing that he had been captive (buried
alive?) for three days now.  His arms and wrists didn't ache
anymore.  Neither did his leg.  All three limbs were
mercifully numb.  He was barely aware that he was starting
to have trouble breathing.  The position of his arms caused
overfatigue of his  chest muscles.  All he could do was hope
that Mulder would be all right without him.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN


LIBERAL TRIUMPH


Mulder couldn't take it anymore.  He couldn't watch them
unearth the box from the ground. He backed away from the
site and went to the road where the vehicles were.  Scully
stayed, promising Mulder to try to maintain Skinner's
privacy if he was found alive.  If the DD was indeed alive,
Mulder didn't want just anyone to see him in a physical and
psychological mess.


It had been four days, the hardest four days of Mulder's
life.  He knew that a person could live for at least eight
days without food and three to four days if without both
food and water.  Skinner was fit for his age, but he did
have bouts of very high blood pressure.  What was stacked
against hi was the Texas heat, which could have accelerated
his dehydration.


Mulder shakily crawled into a Bronco.  As soon as he got
inside, he wept.  What if Skinner was dead?  What if his
gunshot wound was more serious than they thought?  The
person he loved most in the world, the only one who had ever
loved him so completely had been treated so cruelly, might
even have died trying to claw his way out of his living
tomb.


The last four days had taken its toll on Mulder.  He had
angrily refused to go home despite Freeh's orders.  He
didn't care if he got fired.  Although the search for
Skinner was done as rapidly as possible, since he was the
Bureau's own, it wasn't fast enough for Mulder.


Despite the heat, Mulder felt chilled.  He lay huddled in
the back seat, too exhausted to move.  He hadn't slept in
four days, except for the one-hour catnap he had taken when
Scully and Gutierrez were fixing the equipment in the
apartment.  Scully was literally propping him up.

. . . . . . . . . . .


Special Agent Dana Scully took another swig from her water
bottle.  It was noontime under the fierce Dallas late August
sun, more than a hundred degrees where they stood.  Mulder
had left her side a few minutes ago, but she had barely
noticed.  She was too engrossed with the movements of the
recovery team who were frantically digging to get to the
Deputy Director.


They detected the air pipe which had led them to the box.
They had yelled at the air vent but no sounds were emitted
from down below.  Scully had argued with the eyes and ears
people but she successfully convinced them that she was the
most qualified to use the fiberoptic cameras to decide if
the DD was still alive.  She just had this intense desire to
keep the promise she made with Mulder, that she would do her
best to maintain Skinner's dignity at all costs.


The fiberoptics did confirm that Skinner was inside.  Scully
only had a brief glimpse of his shoe, which she recognized
from the photograph.  She had also seen the old blood caked
around the leg.  The cables weren't long enough to snake
further into the box to see if he was still breathing.


There were other people digging, taking turns as they
quickly tired under the unrelenting sun and heat.  The box
was more than four feet underground.  Scully paced back and
forth, checking to see how far down they were.


More shouted instructions came as they heard the distinctive
thump of a shovel against wood.  Even as they cleared the
underground tomb where Skinner's head should be, they just
couldn't budge it even part way, lest they injure the DD
underneath.  It was ominous that not a peep was heard from
the box.


More curses came from the people digging and as Scully
peered over someone's shoulder, there was a collective gasp
when they saw that the box was arrogantly emblazoned with
the Harris militia insignia.


Crowbars crunched as the lid was pried open at several
points.  Scully then pushed her way in through the mass of
Bureau people


"Okay, people, let the medics get through!" she yelled at
the top of her lungs in her most authoritative voice.  A
hush fell on the crowd as the men who had been digging
clambered out.  Scully gratefully saw that the two people
left down there were Gutierrez and Parker, part of Skinner's
security team.  "Please step away and let the Deputy
Director get as much fresh air as possible!"


Scully managed to clamber down and she was aware of the
smell.  But her more experienced nose detected only urine
and sweat plus the more ominous smell of old blood.
However, there was no odor of beginning decomposition.
Gutierrez looked pleadingly at her and Scully managed to
shakily smile.  She already had a large blanket over her
arms.


The lid was fully lifted off the box.  Scully's small form
was able to get into the box at once and she hastily covered
Skinner's body as fast and as completely as she could.  This
time, the paramedics came down with her and the three of
them worked rapidly in the small space as Gutierrez and
Parker got out.


She could see that Skinner was unconscious and a frantic
hand on his neck confirmed that he was alive.  The pulse was
very faint and rapid.


"He's alive but unconscious," Scully looked up and made sure
that Gutierrez understood.  She grimly smiled as she saw
Gutierrez leave the hushed crowd.  She was able to free the
handcuffs.  They were ready with the keys since they knew
from the photographs what kind of cuffs Skinner was bound
with.  She gently turned the Deputy Director onto his back.


"Sir?" Scully tried to see if he would respond.  "Walter?"


He didn't move nor open his eyes.  Skinner's skin was dry
with cracked lips.  Scully could see the tear tracks on the
unconscious man's face which she efficiently wiped off,
making it appear that she was just removing the remnants of
duct tape.


The airway was clear and Scully listened to his chest.
Fortunately, his blood pressure was normal.  She set about
starting two IV lines.  Skinner's hands were limp and too
swollen from the cuffs.  The veins in his arms were
collapsed.  One line was successfully inserted but all three
medical personnel couldn't start another line since he was
so dehydrated.  Scully then gently turned Skinner's head and
inserted an IV catheter directly into his jugular, the only
vein still visible.  With both lines now going at full
blast, she looked up and asked the paramedic working on
Skinner's leg how the injury was.


The paramedic had snipped away the trouser leg and pulled
off Skinner's sock.  He clucked when he saw the gunshot
wound. The leg wasn't bleeding but Scully didn't like the
dusky color of Skinner's foot.  The wound was hastily
dressed and Skinner was now ready for transport.


 . . . . . . . . . . .


Mulder didn't know how long he was there in the Bronco.  He
was just suddenly aware that the helicopter in the clearing
was starting to take off.  Did that mean that Skinner was
alive?  Would they use a helicopter to transport a dead
body?  Mulder started to sit up when someone knocked on the
window and the door was opened.


"Agent Mulder!"  Gutierrez' face was unmistakable.  The
young agent was smiling, although his olive complexion was
beaded with sweat.  "He's alive!  Agent Scully is with him
on the way to the hospital!  She told me to tell you that he
was unconscious."


Mulder was just too relieved and emotionally exhausted to
react.  The younger agent saw that the Bronco still had its
keys in the ignition.  He got into the driver's seat and
started the engine.


"I'll take you to the hospital, sir," Gutierrez briskly
said.  "I'm from around these parts and I know the fastest
way to Parkland.  They have a good trauma service there.
They're the best, sir."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The MedEvac was on its way.  Skinner was still unconscious
despite being pumped with a liter of saline already.  He
hadn't stirred; Scully had a hand on his arm to catch the
slightest movement.  She was worried. Could he have had a
stroke as Mulder feared?  She had checked his pupils but
they were equally reactive.


Scully felt Skinner's arm jerk.  She saw that he was awake
and was about to say something.


"Fox?"  It was barely a whisper and Scully mainly understood
him by reading his lips.  Fortunately, the only people on
board were the paramedics who wouldn't know who Skinner was
calling for.


"He's on his way, sir,"  Scully said, her mouth close to his
ear so that she could be heard above the roar of the
chopper.  "He was the one who figured out who had you.
You're safe now, sir."


Skinner nodded.  One of the paramedics let him wet his lips
with a water-soaked piece of gauze.  Skinner never
remembered water tasting so good.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


Gutierrez continued his mindless chatter as he drove as fast
as he could.  He kept talking about growing up in the
suburbs of Dallas.  A half-hour later, they were still on
the road.  Suddenly, Mulder's phone rang but he still
couldn't talk.  Gutierrez pulled onto the shoulder of the
road and turned around and located Mulder's phone by
apologetically patting Mulder's jacket.


"Excuse me, sir," Gutierrez said as he answered it.  "It's
Agent Scully."


Once Mulder could handle the call, Gutierrez resumed
driving.


"Mulder, he's in surgery right now,"  Scully's voice
crackled over the distance.  "He's very dehydrated, but his
heart seems to be okay.  He regained consciousness in the
helicopter.  They're doing a fasciotomy of his leg just
under local anesthesia because he's somewhat unstable.
Gangrene was starting to set in because of the swelling and
the infection.  But the vascular surgeons said that in their
opinion, the leg would be okay in the long run."


"Thanks, Scully," was all Mulder could mumble in relief.
Most of what she said went over his head, since when Scully
was this excited about something medical, she just fell back
onto the jargon of her profession.


"He was looking for you in the helicopter, Mulder,"  Scully
reassured him. THAT Mulder understood.  "I had to keep him
quiet about that.  He seemed coherent enough to me, Mulder."


"Thanks, Scully," Mulder repeated.  Scully said goodbye and
hung up.


"I want to tell you that I appreciate all you've done for me
and Walter," Mulder finally turned to Gutierrez.


"You're welcome," Gutierrez cheerily said. In a few minutes,
the Bronco was at Parkland.  Mulder flew out of the car,
knowing his way around because they had one or two cases
where he and Scully interviewed some people right in this
very hospital.


He was about to go into another corridor when he heard
someone call his name.


It was Scully who explained to him what procedure Skinner
was undergoing right now.


"It only takes a few minutes, Mulder," Scully said.  "It's
different from what you had when your leg got shot in
Raleigh.  He doesn't have major vascular injuries.  The
gunshot only penetrated a few muscles but he developed
something called compartment syndrome where the swelling of
the soft tissues press against the leg vessels.  They say it
wouldn't even leave scarring."


Mulder was totally exhausted now and was at the end of his
rope.  Scully directed him into a small room and he crawled
into one of the narrow beds and slept within seconds. Scully
promised to wake him up once Skinner was out of the
operating room.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN


POST TRAUMATIC COMFORT


It had been a crazy morning and now Skinner was too tired.
He had gone home by ambulance, straight from the airport.
Mulder had been at his side the whole time and the tensions
of the day had gotten into him, too.


Mulder already told him that the Director knew about their
relationship.  Freeh had accommodated Mulder's request to
stay in Dallas, giving him an innocuous assignment in the
area so that he could see Skinner in the hospital as
frequently as possible without raising suspicions.  Skinner
requested a no visitors policy and the rest of the Bureau
personnel had respected his wishes.


So now, he was back in the apartment.  Mulder wanted him
upstairs but Skinner had enough of lying down.  He was
sitting on the living room couch, sipping his first scotch
in ages.  He smiled tiredly when Mulder put the whole bottle
in front of him, but Skinner wasn't going to get drunk.  He
was going to savor every minute of being home and he was
determined to stay lucid all throughout.


His leg was propped on a pillow.  It still had to be kept
elevated most of the time and he was supposed to keep his
weight off it for a week.  His crutches were around
somewhere.  Skinner's hands were less stiff now, the edema
from the cuffs having subsided with time.  Overall, if he
really thought about it, his injuries in this ordeal were
trivial compared to the injuries he incurred in Nam.  But he
was nineteen, then not fifty.


Mulder returned after a few minutes of fixing their luggage
upstairs.  He saw his lover looking out the window from his
place on the couch.


"Are you hungry, you want anything special?" Mulder asked.
Mrs. Jackson was finally told of what happened and once she
knew that Skinner was going home, she cooked up his
favorites, none of the "healthy" stuff he tolerated because
he had to.  Skinner predictably lost weight as a result of
his ordeal.  The agent was treating him like a piece of
china but so far the older man hadn't complained. Skinner
smiled and shook his head.


"Just sit beside me," Skinner drank from his glass and
patted the couch.  Mulder did so and Skinner leaned against
him and closed his eyes.  The music the younger man had put
on was soothing and calming.


It was amazing to Mulder that despite what happened, people
were still unaware of their relationship.  Twenty four-hour
security for Skinner was provided in the hospital but
Mulder's daily visits, occasionally with Scully in tow were
viewed as debriefings.  Of course, the members of the
militia were rounded up successfully.  That was the reason
why Skinner refused any beefing up of security for him.


Actually, Mulder wouldn't minded any alteration in their
lifestyle as long as Skinner was alive and well.  But
Skinner had been adamant about keeping the status quo of
their lives.


"I almost lost my life, fox, and I'm not about to compromise
on our life together anymore," Skinner had said.


Skinner woke up just long enough to have dinner and after
cleaning, Mulder herded him upstairs where they went to bed.
The agent changed the dressings on Skinner's leg, gave him
the pills he needed and helped him out of his clothes.
Despite his claims that he did enough resting in the
hospital, Skinner eased into another sleep within the circle
of Mulder's arms.


Mulder read quietly in bed and when he was yawning a few
hours later, he turned off his bedside lamp and slept.


"No!" Mulder was rudely awakened when he felt Skinner
struggling beside him.


"Get me out of here!" Skinner was thrashing and at first,
Mulder held him, hoping that the older man would calm down.
But Skinner was approaching near hysteria and the agent
realized that it was the darkness that was causing the
problems.  Mulder hastily turned on the light and cursed
himself for shutting it off in the first place.  He should
have known better.


"Sssshhh.Walter," Mulder soothed his lover as he lay
trembling, rocking the older man gently in his arms.  "I'm
here, you're safe.you're not in the box anymore."


At first, Skinner was turned away from him but his need for
contact overwhelmed him and he faced the younger man and
wept against him.


Even in the hospital, Skinner had been in control.  He tried
to say to himself that he could handle it.  The therapist in
the hospital had not been able to establish enough of a
rapport in his one-week stay.  But going home today had
driven home what he might have lost had everything not
turned out right.  Waking up in the dark had driven him to
the panic he experienced when he was buried underground.


The DD wept brokenly.  It took a while for him to stop.


"Are you all right now?" Mulder asked after a time.  Skinner
nodded against his chest, as Mulder showered him with light
kisses just to reassure him.  It was distressing, of course,
to see Skinner so troubled, but at the same time, it felt
more than pleasant to be the one giving comfort to the older
man after years of being the recipient of such attentions.


"I dreamt that I'd lost you,"  Skinner murmured after a
while.  "You know the hardest part of being down there?"


"What?"  Mulder was rubbing the older man's back.


"I though I would die down there and you'd never know where
I was,"  Skinner sighed.  "Then I realized that it wasn't
the worst part.  I had this idea in my head that you were
looking for me, and what would happen to you if you did
indeed find me but what if I was dead?  I couldn't stand the
idea that you would be so guilty even if I knew that you
tried your best.  Then I was just hoping that I ever died,
that you would never find me.  But later, I got to thinking
that you wouldn't have the closure that you needed and it
would be like Samantha all over again.  So I just tried to
stay alive as much as I could."


"You're back, I found you and you managed to stay alive,"
Mulder murmured.  He slipped a hand under Skinner's pajama
shirt so that he could touch bare skin.  Soothing touches
and crooning eventually lulled the DD to sleep.


Everything was back to the same routine after a few days.
Skinner preferred going to Mulder's therapist, the same one
who had helped the agent about the drive-in debacle.  He
even went back to work after two weeks.


There were quite a few night terrors for a while, cutting
into both their sleep.  Mulder found out that the bedroom
had to have the lights switched on for Skinner to get a good
night's sleep.  Later, Mulder finally gave in and talked
privately with Freeh, requesting that his out of town cases
be deferred temporarily.  He really didn't want to leave
Skinner at nights for a while.  But like most problems, time
only healed.




CHAPTER FIFTEEN


SPEECH SURPRISE


Mulder snuck into the bedroom.  He just came in from Utah on
another case.  He dropped his bags carefully to avoid making
a sound.  He nudged Taylor with his foot and the dog walked
out of the room.  Skinner was still sleeping with the lights
on.  Whereas before, he was satisfied with his customary
three pillows, he now hogged Mulder's pillow as well.  But
Mulder was satisfied that the older man was able to sleep
alone when the agent was out of town.


Just as he had predicted, the moment he got under the
covers, Skinner turned to him and started kissing him.
After a lull of quite a few months, their lovemaking was
back with a vengeance.  He couldn't get enough of Skinner,
kissing the older man with the intensity that had been
demonstrated to him the first few  years they were together.
Their tongues sparred between them and Mulder moaned as
Skinner tweaked his nipples.  He in turn sucked his lover's
nipples and slowly trailed down his mouth until he had the
older man's penis under his busy mouth.


Skinner moaned as he lay back and enjoyed himself.  The
agent was holding him by the root and was alternately
sucking him and kissing the insides of his thighs.  But
Mulder knew better that to let Skinner's excitement reach
its culmination before he had a share of the fun.  After
all, Skinner was indeed older and usually only came once for
the night.


Skinner entered him from behind with an arm caressing
Mulder's stomach and his leg over Mulder's thigh.  The agent
was so eager for his lover that he was pushing back against
him.


"Easy, Fox," Skinner gasped as he felt Mulder's enthusiastic
hips grinding against him.  Precisely because they were both
older and more experienced with each other, they were able
to prolong the loving, savoring every gasp, shudder, tingle,
groan and moan elicited from the other.  Mulder pumped his
own member and came with soft moans and sighs, reveling in
Skinner's embrace as his body shuddered its completion.
Skinner followed not soon after, gently nipping Mulder's
shoulder as the love in his heart overflowed through his
body and then into Mulder.


They remained joined for a while, thigh to thigh, buttock to
groin, back to chest.  Mulder could clearly discern
Skinner's heartbeat against his back, his hot sweet breath
against the stubble of his cheek.  They disengaged and
Mulder turned to Skinner and held  him in his arms.


..............


Scully shook her head.  Mulder was fidgeting again.  She
sighed and smacked his arm to still him, much to the
consternation of her husband.


"Dana," John warned.  He still couldn't get used to seeing
the two together sometimes, especially with the bickering
way they had with each other.  His wife just smiled at him
sweetly and batted her eyes.


They had picked up Mulder from his apartment earlier that
evening.  Scully had marveled again at how good her partner
looked in his tuxedo.  She was glad she still wasn't
showing, despite being two months pregnant.


Mulder had been embarrassed at first, seeing Scully all
dressed up for the evening.  It was different seeing one's
partner looking very beautiful for an important dinner.  The
green gown with the new emerald necklace and earrings from
John only set off her fiery hair and her creamy skin.
Scully was just Scully his partner, but tonight she was a
lady and Mulder had to admit that he was awed.


They hardly saw each other in such formal attire and because
John was with her, Mulder treated her with more than usual
deference at first.  But as the evening progressed, their
old partner relationship had reestablished itself helped
along by a little champagne.


By the time Skinner was about to give his speech, John had a
sense of d,j. vu that his wife and her partner seemed like
they were just in an FBI beach party if one could ignore the
formal gown on his wife and the tuxedo on Fox.  They weren't
just swatting each other, they were now playing with the
centerpiece such that Mrs. Jackson had to admonish them when
they started shredding the leaves.  Of course, John had no
need to be jealous; he had long ceased to suspect that Fox
swung both ways.


John could only roll his eyes when Skinner's Uncle Charles,
who was also at their table, started talking about that
elusive ghost in his townhouse.


The other people at this important Bureau function were
surprisingly friendly and Scully had attributed it to
Mulder's successful deductions that led to the DD's rescue
six months ago.  That incident, although very painful from a
personal perspective, had actually boosted Mulder's erratic
image in the Bureau.


Scully and her husband didn't know that a big part of
Mulder's hyperactivity was due to the nervousness he shared
with Skinner.  The DD was about to give his going away
speech.  He was finally retiring, a little bit behind
schedule.  Mulder already knew the speech by heart, having
ghostwritten some of the parts and listened to Skinner
rehearse it for the past few days.  The DD wanted to
emphasize that this retirement had been planned even before
he accepted the position, that he wasn't retiring because of
the unfortunate incidents a few months ago.


Scully was the only one who saw Mulder mouthing some of the
parts of Skinner's speech to himself.  It was a lengthy
talk, but not boring, punctuated by a lot of laughs.  Scully
still marveled at the way Skinner had changed since she
first knew him as their boss.  The man on the podium,
confident, and seemingly at ease was in sharp contrast to
the uptight hardass, the grim and unapproachable AD on the
Tooms case.  He had interoffice politics down pat by now.
Scully wondered if that change for the better was due in
large part to Mulder.


"This isn't part of his speech," Mulder muttered worriedly
to her as Skinner was winding up.


".my being here today would not have been possible, in fact
I would not be here at all if it weren't for one person.  I
would like to personally thank Special Agent Fox Mulder for
what he had done for me."


Scully could only gasp in amazement.  She couldn't believe
that Skinner actually acknowledged his relationship with
Mulder out in the open.  She saw Mulder frozen in his seat,
waiting for the contempt he was expecting from the other
Bureau people.  Instead, to their surprise, the people were
just clapping.  It was then that Scully realized the
everyone thought that Skinner was referring to Mulder's role
in finding him in Texas.  She whispered to Mulder who
eventually relaxed and gave Skinner a smile from across the
room.


Only Freeh, Gutierrez, Mrs. Jackson, Uncle Charles, Scully
and her husband knew the double meaning  of Skinner's words.
After all, Skinner's tone of voice hadn't changed at all,
still business-like, as though Mulder was just one for the
people he was continuing to thank throughout his speech.
Kimberly beamed.  Skinner hadn't forgotten to thank her.


Skinner continued on with his acknowledgements and Mulder
grinned sheepishly at Scully as she squeezed his hand.  She
had seen the stages of emotion that crossed his face in that
instant:  disbelief then finally a profound love.


As soon as the speech ended, Mulder excused himself and said
goodbye.  He went to the front of the hotel where Gutierrez
stood.


"For a while there, I thought he was giving himself away,"
Gutierrez commented, opening the limousine rear door as
Mulder got in.


Once the security agent got into the driver's seat, Mulder
said, "So did I."


They waited only a few minutes ,before Skinner finally
entered the limousine.


"Got you there, didn't I?" Skinner teased as he switched on
the privacy panel between the passenger side and the driver.


"You should have warned me that you were going to do that,"
Mulder playfully punched him in the arm before kissing him
thoroughly.


"I never did tell you why we had to do all this, did I?
About not telling just everyone about us," Skinner said as
he hugged Mulder to him.  "I only had a few years in the
Bureau, Fox.  I did it for you.


"You still have many years left in the Bureau if you opt to
stay in your present line of work. I would never have wanted
you to remain and face the consequences of your relationship
alone once I retired," Skinner finished.


"Congratulations, Walter, for a job well done," Mulder said.
"How many years were you in the Bureau?"

"Twenty five years.  Never injured in the line of duty,
unlike someone I know, except for a few months ago."


It was a stretch limousine so both of them had no problems
changing from their tuxedos to more comfortable clothes.
The tuxedos were stuffed into a garment bag.


The two of them leaned comfortably against each other as the
limousine sped through the DC streets.  It seemed like a
lifetime when they first got together so many years ago,
when Skinner had been a concerned AD and Mulder an agent at
the end of his rope.  Mulder was now more than ready to
handle himself; Skinner had no more qualms about leaving him
and his X-files in the Bureau.  Even though Scully was
pregnant and was likely to be away from  his side in the
near future, Skinner wasn't worried.


The limousine finally pulled up to the departure ramp of
Dulles.


"Tickets and passports?" Skinner asked.  Mulder patted his
jacket pocket and nodded.


Skinner switched off the privacy screen and as the shield
rolled down, he thanked Gutierrez for the last time.  No
more security agents hanging around his neck from now on and
it was a relief for both Skinner and Mulder.


"TWA to Paris," Mulder told the porter as he and Skinner
emerged from the car.


"First class?" the porter asked as he took the bags from
Mulder.


"Yes," Skinner answered, grasping Mulder's hand.  The
younger man was surprised at first, but lovingly squeezed
back at Skinner's strong fingers.


Then the two of them stepped with alacrity through the
airport doors to start a new phase of their lives together.


END OF BACCARAT FIGURINES IV


Feedback will be much appreciated.  It will take tons of
mail and quite a lot of pleadings to persuade me to write a
sequel after this segment.

However, I might continue to send out Baccarat Fragments and
Baccarat Pieces once in a while.

--------------------------------------------
"A beacon in the night."
               Mulder in reference to Skinner
                Nisei
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