From: Elizabeth Gerber Date: Fri, 12 Mar 1999 05:51:12 GMT Subject: NEW: Voice of Reason(1/1) M/Sk SLASH Voice of Reason by Elizabeth Gerber Rating: PG-13 (some mildly bad language and sexual ideation) Category: SRA Keywords: SLASH M/SK Spoilers: SR-819, Triangle, Tithonus, Redux Summary: Mulder's view of some of the events in SR-819. Assumes a previous relationship between Mulder and Skinner. Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer, Archive/X, WalterTorture--yes, please. Others, just ask first. Also found with a bookcover image at my page: http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Chelsea/1334. Feedback: Yes, please, to elixia@mindspring.com Disclaimer: The characters and situations depicted within belong to 1013, Fox and Chris Carter. A few lines are taken directly from the episode SR-819. I don't mean any infringement, so please don't take offense. Thanks: To m. butterfly and Keisha for helping this be much beter than it otherwise would have been. Also thanks to Tiny Dancer's site and CarriK for the transcript of SR-819 and to the folks of PETFW for being infinitely cool. Thanks also to David Duchovny and Mitch Pileggi for being so damned, ah, inspirational. Timeline note: I'm writing this under the assumption that SR-819 happened after Tithonus. I know SR-819 aired first, but Tithonus comes first in the episode numbering. Also, Tithonus actually includes a date--January 4, meaning that it must occur very soon after How the Ghosts... It doesn't seem like SR-819 could have occurred before all of that, so I'm placing it afterwards in the ever-confusing XF timeline. WARNING!! This story contains some romance and sexuality between two men. Please do not read this if you are offended by such interaction. However, this is not smut, so I believe it's safe for open-minded non-slashers. ^^^^^^^^^ It was a night so boring I didn't even want to bother going home. I mean, Must-See TV isn't a big draw for me, so I decided to stay at work. I was hoping something would go down; maybe I could grab an interesting case before it got passed on to one of the bureau's bright and shining ones. I didn't expect what happened. I didn't expect it to be him. I was reviewing some case files at my desk when I heard someone coming down the hall. I was pretty damn surprised to see that it was Walter, especially since he wasn't walking with his usual ramrod-straight step. I felt a little of that worry, that old fear for him, come creeping into my stomach. I had to investigate. After all, he'd been there for me in Bermuda. Too bad I didn't have any flowers on hand. I headed into his office expecting to see him at his desk, hurriedly gathering up some things to take home, no time for Mulder. But there he was. In the flesh. Sliding against the black leather of his secretary's couch. He looked like shit, honestly, but he still managed that gruff front I've always loved so much. "What is it, Agent Mulder?" I think he was trying like hell to hold me back, keep me away from him when he might be too weak to resist a little comfort. I had to pry a little to get him to tell me what was going on, but he finally spilled. He told me he was having trouble seeing and didn't think he ought to drive. "It's nothing" he said. Nothing, yeah, I was figuring nothing but a concussion or a stroke or clinical exhaustion or something. I never would have guessed. He didn't seem to want my help, so I had to force the issue. Ask him if he was going to be alright. I'm so used to Scully and her "I'm fine" line that my heart about stopped when he didn't answer. I let about thirty long seconds go by before I asked again, "Walter, are you going to be okay or do we need to go to a hospital here?" "Mulder, just give me some space please, I'm fine." Ha! I'd heard that one before, but he continued. "I just got *out* of the emergency room at St. Katherine's, and the doctor cleared me. I got knocked out boxing, but I'm none the worse for wear." Then he sighed, and that sigh sounded so old. "I think I'm just tired." I didn't believe that for a minute. The man's got ten years on me, but I'd never seen him like this. He always managed not only to keep up with me, but to keep me on my toes. So I sat down next to him on the edge of the couch, hoping my proximity would get the truth out of him. I'd barely set one cheek on the upholstery, when he gasped and pulled away from me, protecting his side tenderly. I didn't understand. "Walter, what the hell? What is it?" When he got his voice back, I almost regretted it. "Jesus Christ, Mulder, why don't you sit on top of me?!?" I might have enjoyed being growled at if it hadn't been for the pain I could see in his face. I protested my innocence, and he motioned for me to pull up his shirt to look at his side. Forgive me, but as I held the hem of that soft,wrinkled cotton it felt for a moment like we were together again. Like we had never stopped spending the nights in each other's arms. But then I lifted the shirt above his belt and saw the mottled, angry purple bruise instead of the smooth slightly tanned skin I remember. I touched it lightly with one finger and he gasped again, his stomach muscles flinching. I tried to be sensible. "Walter, this looks nasty. Why don't you let me drive you home so you can take some Advil and rest?" He clearly didn't find that an acceptible option. "Mulder, please stop it! Just go back to whatever the hell you were doing in the bullpen. I can take care of myself." I reached out a hand to his shoulder, but he was on a roll. "First I've got a psycho threatening me and now I've got you mothering me. I don't really know which is worse. Leave. My office. Now." Taking the hint, I turned on my heel to leave. And then I realized what he'd said. "Um, sir, I think you left out the part about 'a psycho' threatening you. What are you talking about?" I paused for effect, using a little of what Scully calls my kicked-puppy look. "Or is that just another way to get me out of your office?" I could tell from his face that I'd caught him. "Shit," he said quietly and took a long breath. "Mulder, I didn't want to say anything about this because it's entirely too far up your alley, but I know you'll never let me alone now. While I was at the hospital tonight, I received a phone call. A computerized voice telling me I had 24 hours to live. It's clearly just bullshit, but it didn't exactly improve my lovely night. Now, I am going home. If the only way you'll let me go is to drive me, I can accept that. But you will then go home yourself and leave me alone." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "A voice told you you had 24 hours to live? And you expect me to take you home? I don't think so." I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Scully. She'd been getting ready for bed, but when I told her what was going on she agreed to come in. I really couldn't keep the concern and slight tinge of panic out of my voice, so she knew it was serious. At least there shouldn't be much traffic this time of night. I turned back to Walter who had his arm over his eyes again. I rested my hand on his smooth, damp head, and his arm pulled away to reveal squinted eyes. "What now, Mulder?" I tried to act calm, and I hoped it was convincing. "Why don't you try to get some rest? I have a feeling your exciting evening isn't over just yet, but there's nothing we can do until the doc arrives. I'll stay here with you." I expected to get an argument, but he looked at me with something like gratitude and let his eyes drop shut. I retreated to the desk where I could watch him. ^^^ Of course I'd just called Scully so that meant I had about half an hour to perch on a desk and watch my ex-lover sleep. Knowing that he could be dying, and I might not be able to stop it. Another person I love was in pain because of me, and I'm really, really tired of that. So, I watched him, his bulk overwhelming the small sofa, his shirt untucked and partially unbuttoned. If I suspended reality just a little, I could imagine he was draped over my leather couch at home, worn out and rumpled from an evening spent with me. It happened a few times that we ended up at my place and I got to watch him like that. Standing in my living room with a cup of coffee in my hands, watching his wonderful chest rise and fall, looking at his slim hips angled on the leather, his whole face relaxed in sleep. He was so beautiful and sensual at those moments that it was worth missing sleep to see him. And then I might walk over and kneel on the floor next to the couch. Put my hands on those hips and move my lips to that chest of his and start feeling my way down with my lips and tongue. I was shifting a little on the desk imagining doing that to him now when I came back to reality with a panic. If I had held him like that right then, he'd have pulled away from me, and not just in pain. Things had already gone sour with us by the time last year when Scully helped me fake my death, but that event sealed it. The last nails in the coffin of our relationship, as such. And yet, maybe not. I know I've never been able to bring myself to hate him. When Scully thought he was the mole, I knew it could never be true. He's too good of a man for that. Actually, I think that's why he decided to end it, finally. At first, I had been the one initiating the distance between us. I was just so angry, at him and everyone else. Scully was dying and the world seemed incredibly dark. He didn't seem ready to let me go, until the "suicide". It was then, just as I was ready to reach out to him again, that he cut me loose. I think he did it for his own sanity, and I really don't blame him. He was decent to me as AD, even if he did hand me over to Kersh a bit readily. Again, I can't blame him. I'm a pain in the ass. Scully told me that he seriously came through for her when I was lost in the triangle, and that's another example of how fine a man he is. That he came down there himself, and brought those silly flowers to me, well, it made me start to hope again. Hope that he was changing his mind, that he wanted me back in his life again. I just couldn't broach the subject because the hope, even without the reality, wass much better than his rejection would have been. I heard the ding of the elevator then and pulled myself out of my reverie in preparation for Scully's entrance and whatever would come afterwards. ^^^ Scully swept into the office like the caped crusader on a mission, and I must say that I was pleased to see her. I was even more pleased to see her practicing her bed-side manner on someone other than me, for once. I briefed her on his condition and then held the light up for her. I tried to keep it out of his eyes, but there was only so much I could do and still light up that horrible bruise. She started questioning him about what he'd eaten that day, and I felt that fear again. That worry I felt earlier crept in further and wrapped itself around my spine. Walter was unconvinced, clearly. He asked why someone would call to let him know. "To see who you'd turn to," I told him, and he responded, "Oh, this is about you." For a moment that hurt, that it seemed to bother him, the assumption that he might turn to me. I diverted him from me to the x-files, but he came right back, poking at me for my paranoia. I knew he was hurting, but it was getting too personal. I had to shut my emotions down and get to the bottom of the situation. I know he was pissed at me for asking about his sleeping arrangements, but it was topical. So what if I was interested in his answer for my own reasons? I would have asked it anyway. I only wish the problem had been a case of a sweet young somebody slipping him a bucket of bad oysters. So, with Scully's help, we bought a clue, went down to security. Scully identified Dr. Orgel from the tape log, and with his name and address in hand, I was ready to bolt. Scully was right when she said he needed to be under a doctor's care, but I also knew that if it were me I would die more quickly sitting in one place just waiting for someone else to save me. So, he took off, and I made it clear that I was going with him. I gave a brief moment of thanks to Scully for being there to cover the medical end and pointed the car north towards Maryland. ^^^ It was a short drive, and he wouldn't talk to me. He just kept staring out the windsheid like he was trying to beam us there mentally or something. I drove as fast as I dared, passing cars on the half-empty beltway, trying to keep my right hand from straying from my own lap to his. I wanted to touch him and tell him it would be okay. I also would have liked to feel him, his warm, strong leg under the wool of his pants, to know he was alive for now at least. But I didn't have any right to touch him that way. I gave up the right to do that when I shot the face of off Scott Osselhoff and asked Scully to tell Skinner it was me. She never would have done it if she'd known. ^^^ At first I thought it was Orgel--that he'd dreamed up whatever was wrong with Walter and poisoned him, and I was ready to bash the front door through that man's head. However, I knew as soon as we started talking to him that it was more complex than that. Orgel was afraid, and not primarily of us, so there had to be another party involved. I sent Walter around back, hoping that I'd be able to get the information out of Orgel without him getting involved, but then those bastards shot at me. By the time I got inside, Walter was down and my heart seized up, while my mind wanted to go running after the other men. He roared at me to go, and I had to obey. When I finally chased down Mr. Ponytail, I seriously wanted to pound his head into the street, but I had to get back to the house. To Walter. As I pulled the gunman up the stairs, Walter walked out of the door. I got the impression that however he was managing to hold himself together before, it was costing him much more. I wished I knew what had happened to him inside the house. Then the ponytailed man starting cursing at him, and it was just to much. Walter was barely standing up; he really didn't need to be spit on by that slimey sonofabitch. Then the man--excuse me, *diplomat*--was gone, and I really wished I had some diplomatic papers of my own. It might really help me out, all the trouble I get in. Anyway, Walter started giving me orders, handing me the facts, getting ready to be on his way, when I saw his neck. Even in the shadowy streetlight, I could see that it was wrong. It looked like the bruise on his ribcage had looked, but even worse, like the veins were making their way to the surface. It also looked like it hurt a lot, and I could hear the pain in his raspy voice. I reached out to pull his collar aside, get a better look, and all the while I was trying not to think about how I would kiss that neck while running my hands over his shoulders. I told him he needed to be in a hospital, hoping he would decline. I wanted to give him the option, so that if he was feeling really bad he'd have an out. I was actually glad when he pushed me away, but I was scared for him too. I didn't want him out there without me on his back, but there didn't seem to be any choice. I needed to learn more about Orgel, and he needed to follow up on Mr. Ponytail, excuse me, Lazreg, and his cohorts. Walter took off at a jog, and I wondered how he did it. He must have been one hell of a Marine. ^^^ I spent a couple hours with our friends the local police and went through Orgels papers. Unfortunately for the good doctor, I didn't think he was going to be around to worry about a ransacked filing cabinet. Then, I earned myself some more brownie points by disturbing Senator Matheson's beauty sleep, but he didn't give me anything. So, I headed back to where it all began--the Hoover building. I was in the elevator on the way to Walter's office when my phone rang. It was Scully telling me that she was with him in the hospital. That he'd collapsed in the parking deck, that he was in critical condition. In a blind panic I started pulling out his desk drawers, getting into anything I could, looking for a clue, an answer--anything. Luckily for me and the furniture, his assistant came along with the morning mail and my catch of the day. ^^^ As I walked into the hospital, I couldn't help but thinking of how many times I'd been in places like this over the last few years. As I was coming around on the ICU, I felt that old, familiar fear reach up and choke me. The sight of Scully's pale, drained body floated before me, along with the memory of Walter pulling me back, away. And then I saw Scully standing by his bed in her scrubs. She came out to talk to me, and I could tell how scared she was. I couldn't keep myself from looking over her shoulder at him, his bulk improbably small under the sheets. Even from outside the room, I could see that the strange bruising had spread to his arms. Scully was standing there telling me that he was dying, that he might well die, and I couldn't stand that. I wanted to go in and see him, touch him, feel that he was alive, but then the nurse brought us his chirping cell phone. As the synthesized voice started talking, my pulse rate doubled and the anger I'd been holding back all evening could no longer be restrained. I could smell him; I knew the bastard was close. So what did I do? I went pounding down the stairs after Mr. Pantene, held my gun on a nurse and ended up with a very usless piece of hair. I just let those people yell at me because I certainly knew I deserved it. I paid some more penance by listening to the vehicle tech's thrilling details about tire markings, but he finally gave me something useful and I was off once more. What I was trying to make myself forget was that I still hadn't gotten close to Walter, much less gotten close to finding a cure for him. Scully had said he was dying, and Scully knew her stuff. Scully, granted, usually only works on dead people, but then according to Mr. Pantene, Skinner was already dead. Not a good train of thought. ^^^ Matheson, of course, continued to disappoint me. There was a time when he helped me, more than I ever could have asked for. He was a friend of my father's from his time in the state department, and I think he felt sorry for me. I guess that only worked when I was young and cute and meekly in awe of my superiors. He handed me the line of the day, that Walter was already dead, and it took every bit of control I had not to scream at him to shut up. I knew I had to get out of there and back to the hospital because if Walter was going to die I had to at least be there. When Matheson started whining behind me about how he was a victim, I lost the last shred of respect I had for him. He really had meant a lot to me; once I had hoped to become a man like him, using authority for good. This is what happens to my idols. ^^^ I met Scully at the hospital, and as soon as I saw her I knew it wasn't good. "We've done all we can, Mulder. We're still trying a new procedure on him, but it's very risky. It would be worth the risk if it saved him, but it doesn't seem to be helping him at all. These things in his bloodstream are working against us faster than we can fight them, and we're losing. From the way it looks right now, we're going to lose." Scully, stalwart Scully, teetered on the brink of tears, and I felt no better. We'd both been running all night to find a way to save Walter, and we hadn't gotten anywhere. Scully told me then about her conversation with Skinner, and I wanted to scream. I didn't want his apologies; I wanted *him*. I convinced Scully to go get something from the cafeteria while I headed up to see Walter. Before it was too late. When I stepped into his room, I had to brace myself against the wall to stop everything from spinning. He looked, my god, like he wasn't even human anymore, lurid purple lines criss-crossed his body, his face. I walked over to his bed, and when he opened his eyes it was all Walter, entirely too human. I hate it like hell when I cry, but I couldn't help myself. The tears started to fall and I found myself begging him to forgive me. "I'm sorry, Walter, I'm so sorry. There's nothing else I can do. I'm so sorry." I wasn't just apologizing for my failure to save him, but for all my other failures as well. He met my eyes then and started to talk, his mellifluous baritone reduced to a raspy whisper. "Mulder, stop it, please," he said, "We don't have time for all the things you're sorry for." Damn him, he knew me too well. He continued, "This is not your fault Mulder; I know you've done everything you could." He paused to draw in a pained breath. "I'm sorry for some things, too." He closed his eyes, and I began to panic, but then he opened then again. "It's not that I didn't love you Mulder. The problem was that you couldn't love yourself." Leaving me with that, his eyes slid shut and the nurse made me leave so he could rest. Before leaving, I quickly, softly touched my lips to his forehead. His eyes did not open. ^^^ After a trip to the men's room to wash my face, I found Scully in the cafeteria. I got myself a coffee and sat with her. Our faces must have been like a matched set of portraits of hopelessness and despair. I know it's hard on her to lose a patient, and her relationship with Walter has been noticeably stronger since her recovery all those months ago. I've been a little jealous, almost. There was nothing we could say. We just sat there, and somehow we ended up holding hands accross the table, sharing each other's strength. When the voice over the intercom paged us to the ICU, I think I heard the double beat of my heart hitting the floor, followed by hers. I convinced myself that I was going to have to face a world much darker for not having Walter Skinner in it. We took off for his floor, eschewing the elevator for the stairs. ^^^ Dr. Cabrera met us outside Walter's room with a strange look on her face, and it took me a moment to figure out what was wrong with it. The look she was wearing was a perplexed smile. I was having trouble breathing, myself, with my heart blocking my throat, but Scully managed to ask her what was going on. "Your friend Mr. Skinner is a very lucky man. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but he's alive. I'll be honest with you, Dr, Scully. He flat-lined. I thought he was dead, and then he gasped and came back to life. I would call it a miracle, but I don't know how long it's going to last. He's actually somewhat cogent, though he still looks bad, and he may be in a lot of pain. I suggest you and Dr. Plant do some blood work to find out what the hell is going on." With that, she nodded briefly at me and walked off. She actually seemed a little annoyed that Walter was still alive. The last two words of that thought echoed through my brain, waking up parts that had started to close themselves down in dismay. Scully was walking into the room, and I followed her. A nurse was working over him, checking the various moinitors attached to him, and Scully set right to checking the read-outs. I just stood there staring at him. Alive. Asleep, but alive. Scully left the room to call Dr. Plant, and I finally felt free to walk up to the bed. I placed my hand on Walter's leg. Alive. Warm. I couldn't help myself; I ran my hand as lightly as I could down his cheek, but he woke with a flinch. "Still hurts," he whispered. "Still alive," I muttered back. He opened his eyes and looked at me sharply. He opened his mouth, and I thought he was going to say something, but then he shook his head minutely and clamped his mouth shut. He looked at me again, then, and said, "Mulder, go home and get some sleep. I have a feeling I'm going to be here a while. Take Scully and make her sleep too." He closed his eyes again, and I could see him drifting off. More quietly he finished, "I'll be here when you return." ^^^ Dismissed as such, I could feel the stress of the day coming to take its toll. My head swam, and I sat down in the chair in the corner. I think I'd been asleep for about five minutes when Scully came in and shook me awake. I told her what Walter'd said, and she smiled. A real Scully smile. She helped me haul myself up, and we shuffled down to her car. Neither of us felt like we could drive very far, so she drove us both to my place. I ushered her towards the mysterious new water bed, and I knew she was exhausted because she didn't even comment. I grabbed a pair of sweat pants to wear to bed to protect her dignity and headed to the bathroom and, swiftly thereafter, my own precious leather sofa. After that, for a while, there was nothing. I woke up first and, after a thorough search of my cabinets, made some generic macaroni and cheese. I figured that if Scully was anywhere near as hungry as I was, she wouldn't be too picky. It turned out that the smell of the luscious cheese sauce woke her, and we ate in companionable silence. To my shame, I then realized for the first time that this might have been a little hard on her, dealing with all of this hospital business to soon after her injury in New York. I tried to bring it up, but she didn't want to discuss it. I couldn't stop thinking about it. The two most important people in my life had both just barely managed to cheat death in as many months. And how many times have I done it myself? And Scully? I really feel like the black hole of disaster sometimes. ^^^ Scully and I headed back to the hospital to see Walter, and he was doing visibly better. He was still terribly weak, but his veins were receding from the surface. I don't think he was in as much pain either. Scully talked with Dr. Plant, and reported to me that the walls of carbon in his blood vessels had just dismantled themselves. They didn't know where the nanomachines, if that was what they had been, had gone, but they were at the very least inactive. I went back to talk to Walter, and he'd already been told. He'd also already made the same assumption I made. That whoever was controlling these things had allowed him to live, for whatever reason, for however long. Personally, I was just glad that he was alive, so that we had time to find out who was behind this. I don't think he was taking the lack of control as philosophically, but then he never has. He's a man who belongs in control, and I'd do anything I could to return it to him. ^^^^^^ However, thanks to AD Kersh, I haven't been able to do much towards that end over the last three weeks. Neither has Agent Scully. That night, we returned to our respective homes with a plan to call in sick the following day. When we called Kersch the next morning, we were informed that we were to fly out to Montana that afternoon to spend three weeks working on Domestic Terrorism. Read: shit piles. It's been a long three weeks. I kept up to date with Walter's condition each day while he remained in the hospital. I know they released him two weeks ago, but he hasn't taken or returned any of my calls. I don't think Scully's had any better luck. Fortunately, we have a meeting with him this afternoon. His memo said he wanted to thank us in person for our help. Scully's uncharacteristically upbeat this morning, and I'm looking forward to the meeting myself. Maybe this is the time when things will move forward with him, professionally if not personally. I can handle that. Even if we're not able to be together, the fact that the man I love happens to be the kind of man who acts on what he believes in, who refuses to give in to the dark forces around him-- Well, some days it gives me strength. It gives me hope for myself, and it gives me someone to believe in. I don't know what I would do without that. ^^^^^^^^^ THE END Thank you for reading! Feedback will be welcomed with greatful tears at elixia@mindspring.com. Elizabeth Gerber elixia@mindspringdotcom Please fix the e-mail address to reply.