Georgetown Medical Center

Assistant Director Walter Skinner stood outside the observation room filled with television monitors. He had no idea what he was going to do, what he could do, but this had gone too far. What had started out as simply turning over information to Krycek in exchange for a few more days of living had degenerated to this....intolerable....situation. My god, he thought to himself, intolerable - that’s the understatement of the century. But no word could possibly begin to describe his unease, his self-loathing, and yes, his fear for his agents, his friends.

He stood there, unsure of what to do next. He had two hells from which to choose: he could go inside and watch a person he admired and trusted pace and scream in psychotic fury. Or he could stand outside in the hallway where just moments before he had watched the woman he loved realize his betrayal. Or...there had to be a third option. He just needed the courage to find it.

Skinner turned on his heel, a plan forming in his mind. A plan that would probably cost him his life.

Georgetown Medical Center - 36 hours later

Skinner stood outside Mulder’s room in Psychiatrics, arguing with the agent’s doctor.

"You can’t remove him! He’s too violent!" The doctor gestured emphatically towards his patient’s door. "We’ve drugged him to the gills, but there hasn’t been any decrease in his abnormal brain activity." The doctor sighed in frustration, rubbing his hand across his face, and said wearily, "We’ve tried everything, but nothing works. I don’t see how the staff at Bethesda is going to have any more luck."

Skinner nodded, sympathetic but resolute. "The choice is out of your hands. The papers I have here," he once again tried to hand the documents to the doctor, "release him from your care and remand him to mine. I’ll transport him to Bethesda myself." Not for the first time, Skinner hoped the doctor wouldn’t question him further. Or try to contact the members of Mulder’s family listed on the document as giving consent. Or try to follow up on his patient by contacting the Bethesda facility. Mulder’s mother had no idea of what was happening to her son, and to get her involved at this stage would only complicate matters. A call to Bethesda would be a catastrophe as well, as no one there had been informed of any patient transfer. Although he trusted the Lone Gunmen’s ability to forge official documents, he wanted to get Mulder out of there as quickly as he could, with as few questions asked as possible.

He wanted to help Mulder, true; but he also needed Mulder to help him. Mulder’s partner, Dana Scully, had gone missing after leaving the Hoover building almost two nights ago. Skinner was frantic; Scully had stormed out of the hospital after accusing him of lying to her and was probably running scared, feeling alone with no one to trust. Skinner had admitted to himself long ago that his protectiveness towards the beautiful redhead stemmed less from his position as her superior than his feelings of admiration, respect and even love for her. More than anything else, he wanted to regain her trust and friendship, but first he had to find her, to save her from the truth she was seeking. And Mulder was the key to her whereabouts.

The doctor hesitantly took the documents held in the Assistant Director’s outstretched hand. He scanned over them, checking for the necessary signatures, and reluctantly nodded. "Everything looks in order here. You can take him as soon as we fill out the release form." The doctor then looked up at Skinner, shaking his head worriedly. "But I still don’t know how in hell you’re going to transport him by yourself. We can’t get near him."

Skinner didn’t know himself, but he couldn’t share his doubts with this man. Trying to look as confident as possible, he assured the doctor. "He’s been my agent for six years. We’ve been through a lot together. He trusts me." Skinner almost flinched as he said the word, "trust," feeling the weight of his betrayal more than ever. Mulder had trusted him; so had Scully, finally. It had taken him a lot to earn that trust, and now, with one threat from that rat bastard, Krycek, that trust could be irrevocably shattered. None of these guilt-filled thoughts showed on his face for the doctor to see. He was still a master of his own control, if nothing else. He looked the doctor straight in the eye and repeated: "He trusts me."

The doctor looked at him evenly, and finally nodded. "Well then, you might have the best chance of reaching him. God knows we’ve failed at every attempt." The doctor pivoted towards Mulder’s door and unlocked it. Turning back to Skinner, his face was filled with consternation, still uncertain that this was the best course of action for his patient. "Just be very careful with him. He’s in an extremely fragile state. Anything, everything and nothing sets him off."

Skinner nodded his understanding, and the doctor, only partially satisfied that this man truly comprehended the task in front of him, turned back to the unlocked door, twisted the knob and pushed the heavy steel slab open. He waved Skinner in, his eyes advising caution. Skinner took a deep breath and entered the room.

Special Agent Fox Mulder, one of the FBI’s best and brightest, sat huddled in the corner of the room. His head was resting on his crossed arms which were in turn resting on his knees as he rocked, mindlessly, back and forth on the floor. He hadn’t yet acknowledged the AD’s presence, nor did he seem to even notice that he was no longer alone in the small, padded room.

As the heavy door thudded softly shut behind him, Skinner once again wondered how the hell he was going to do this. He needed Mulder to leave with him, willingly, peacefully; but how could he get through to someone in this state? Suddenly remembering Mulder’s scream of "Scully!" while his partner watched the monitor in despair inspired Skinner as to how to proceed.

"Mulder, I need you to listen to me carefully. Scully needs you to listen to me carefully." The AD spoke softly from the door, not yet moving towards the disturbed man. He didn’t want to startle him. "Scully needs our help, desperately, but in order for us to help her, you have to help me first." Skinner held his breath, waiting for a response - any response.

Mulder’s rocking stopped, suddenly. Without raising his head, Mulder muttered in a hoarse voice, "You betrayed us, didn’t you?"

Skinner’s heart skipped a beat. Several beats. He had to be completely honest with Mulder in order to regain his trust, but he was worried about saying the wrong thing, worried that he would provoke him and Mulder would start ranting again. Remaining where he was, Skinner explained softly, "Krycek controls the nanocytes in my bloodstream. If I didn’t cooperate with him he was going to activate them again." Mulder hadn’t resumed his rocking, but he still hadn’t looked up at the AD. Skinner took this as a good sign - Mulder was listening, but he wasn’t losing it. Yet.

Skinner continued, "I thought all I’d be doing was hindering your investigation, at the most keeping you from discovering the truth about the case, a truth the Consortium didn’t want you to find." Still no response from Mulder. Skinner took a small, hesitant step towards the younger man. "I didn’t know the effect the artifact would have on you, that you would deteriorate to this...condition. That either you or Scully would be placed in danger." His voice was still low, but emphatic. "But I can’t live with myself if either of you are hurt. My life doesn’t mean anything if I keep it at the expense of yours or Scully’s." Skinner took another step, his voice rough with emotion. "You are the only people I trust totally. You’re my friends. And that means more to me than any Consortium threat." Skinner stopped his approach and waited for Mulder to react.

Thirty seconds passed. Then one minute. Then two. Skinner wasn’t sure whether his declaration of undying friendship had registered or not. He was just about to start talking again when Mulder looked up him with bloodshot eyes.

Mulder had heard every word Skinner had said and more; the sounds in his head - the voices - had shown him Skinner’s sincerity and concern, his love for both him and his partner, Scully. Scully. What had Skinner said about her needing him...? Mulder’s disjointed thoughts kept ricocheting back and forth in his head, not allowing him to grab hold of them, to focus on just one. His face screwed up like a little boy’s about to cry and he lowered his head to his hands, resuming his rocking motion.

Even though Mulder hadn’t said anything, Skinner had seen the comprehension and acceptance in his eyes briefly, before he once again dissolved into the confusion that threatened his sanity. Encouraged, the large man knelt in front of the younger agent and put his hands on his shoulders, rubbing in circular motions. "Mulder, I need you to help me help Scully. I need you to leave with me, Mulder. But I need you to do it calmly, without losing it. Can you do that?" Skinner moved his big hands to Mulder’s tousled hair, cradling his skull and slowly forcing Mulder’s head up again.

Mulder’s rocking motion ceased and green eyes met brown. The tears streamed down Mulder’s face, from emotion or from pain Skinner wasn’t sure. Mulder then raised his hands to Skinner’s face, his slender fingers hesitantly brushing against the surprised man’s cheeks. Mulder looked at Skinner as if it was the first time he had ever really seen him. Skinner felt a lump form in his throat as the troubled man reached out to him, physically and emotionally. He placed his right hand on top of Mulder’s head and stroked his hair tenderly. "Can you help me Mulder? Can you help Scully? She needs you."

Mulder nodded slowly. "I can help." His hands had settled against Skinner’s broad chest, clutching softly at the lapels of his dark overcoat. Mulder flinched, as a flicker of pain lanced through his head. "But it hurts. Bad." Mulder’s speech was clipped, forced through clenched teeth. His grip on Skinner’s coat tightened with the pain.

"I know it hurts. But maybe by helping Scully, we can help you." Skinner’s voice was soothing, reassuring. "I don’t know how. But when we find her, maybe we’ll find answers to why this is happening to you and how we can stop it." Skinner continued his gentle stroking of Mulder’s hair with his right hand, Mulder’s shoulder with his left. "Can you bear the pain for a little while longer? Long enough to help Scully?"

Mulder looked up at the older man again, still in pain but more in control of it. "I can help." He attempted a small smile and Skinner’s heart leapt. They might be able to pull this off after all.

Skinner slowly got up, gently pulling Mulder up with him. Mulder clung to the larger man’s overcoat, a little wobbly and surprised to find his legs able to support him. Skinner’s arm went around Mulder’s shoulders as Mulder’s snaked around the AD’s waist. Supporting one another in that way, they left the small cell together.

**************

From the observation room, ex-FBI agent Alex Krycek watched the tender scene with a contemptuous sneer. The bastard had actually done it! He was going against the Consortium, daring them to kill him! Krycek’s green eyes gleamed with evil delight. When the order came through to terminate Skinner, it was Krycek who would get the privilege of pushing the button. Literally. Krycek pulled the remote control from the inside pocket of his overcoat, stroking the closed cover thoughtfully. He had been waiting for this moment - the go-ahead to get rid of his former boss. He would enjoy watching Walter Sergei Skinner die in pain.

Tucking the remote safely back in his coat, Krycek turned from the television monitor and left the observation room, heading for the nearest payphone. It was time to let the old man know of Skinner’s move against them, and to receive his next set of orders.

Dulles International Airport - 2 hours later

Alex Krycek watched the pair of Federal agents make their way towards the gate. Although Mulder was walking on his own, Skinner kept his hand protectively on the younger man’s shoulder, steering him in the right direction. Krycek just watched them for a moment, then pulled the remote control from inside his dark overcoat. As Skinner handed his and Mulder’s tickets to the gate agent, Krycek flipped open the cover of the device.

"Only activate the device to it’s lowest setting," the old bastard had instructed, pausing to take a drag of his ever-present Morley, "we want to give Mr. Skinner a chance to reconsider his decision. We may still have use for him." Another pause and the sound of a rough exhale. "It would be a shame to destroy a potentially useful tool."

Krycek ground his teeth in frustration on the other end of the telephone line. "I don’t get it. It’s obvious he’s chosen which side he’s on and it’s not ours!" Krycek tried once again, his voice calmer, rational, lethal. "He’s betrayed you, fully knowing the consequences. If you don’t follow through, you’ll never be able to control him." Krycek’s voice turned almost pleading, feeling his chance to kill the AD slipping out his reach. "Please. Let me take care of it, once and for all."

But the older man hadn’t budged. "The lowest setting, Alex. No higher." Then he had chuckled, the sound of it sending chills down Krycek’s spine and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "Don’t worry. You may still get your chance at revenge. Just not quite yet." Then he had hung up.

So Krycek stood there, lurking behind a corner of the terminal while watching his target at the gate. He turned his attention once more to the opened device in his hand and, sighing in frustration, placed his finger on the touch sensitive pad, raising it to the first power level. Flipping the cover closed again, he returned it to his jacket and headed to the service entrance. Wherever Skinner and Mulder were headed, he had to tag along.

*************

Skinner helped Mulder settle in his window seat and buckled him in. Mulder was still in a great deal of pain and confusion, but he was holding himself together for Scully’s sake. As the AD settled his large body into the small middle seat, he breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn’t met any further resistance at the hospital and Mulder had only experienced a brief loss of control when Skinner tried to get him in the cab. All in all, it went smoother than he had any right to expect. Mulder had confirmed his suspicion that Scully had fled to the Ivory Coast in search of more pieces of the artifact that had started this whole mess. Skinner had been fortunate in getting a flight with only one connection in Lisbon. Ten hours from now they would be in Abidjan and closer to finding Scully.

Scully. Dana. An exhausted sigh escaped Skinner’s lips. How was he going to repair the damage he had done to their relationship, to her trust. Walter closed his eyes, remembering the look on her face when he had taken her arm, trying to stop her, trying to make her see reason. She had looked at him with loathing, full comprehension of his betrayal seething in her azure eyes. Then she yanked her arm from his grasp, calling him a liar, and it had pierced his heart like an icy dagger. All he could do was stand there and watch her turn away, away from him, from their friendship.

Walter tiredly removed his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he wondered how he could convince her he was on her and Mulder’s side. He sat there for a long while, deep in thought when a sudden hitch in his side caught his attention. God, he was tired. Not only was his vision starting to blur, but now he was getting muscle spasms in his back and side. I’ve been too tensed up, he thought, expecting an attack by Krycek or that smoking bastard he works for to come from any and every side. No wonder my muscles are complaining now.

Walter looked up at the panel above him. They were in the air at cruising altitude - he must have been lost in thought for at least an hour. The captain had turned off the seatbelt sign, so he decided to head to the lavatory and wash up. Maybe a good stretch would do his tight muscles some good.

Walter got up slowly, careful not to disturb the man beside him. Mulder still winced as if in pain, but he seemed to have finally fallen asleep. Good, Walter thought to himself, he needs it. Maybe all the drugs the doctors gave him have finally kicked in. It would certainly make the rest of the flight easier if that were the case. Walter exited the row, heading towards the lavatory and ignoring the throb in his side.

As soon as the lavatory lock was slid into place, Walter began to strip off his "official" FBI uniform: boring tie, starched white shirt. He bent in front of the sink, preparing to sponge off the anxiety and tension of the previous four hours, when the reflection of a small purpling bruise on his side caught his eye. Skinner stiffened, his hands gripping the edge of the sink with brutal strength. He slowly straightened, his eyes never leaving the tell-tale bruise on his flank. Finally, unevenly, he let out the breath he was unaware that he had been holding. His blurred vision....the bruise...cramping in his muscles....no! Not now!

Skinner’s eyes closed and he bent his head in frustration and despair. If they had activated the nanocytes, he’d be no good to Mulder or Scully. He was already a dead man. He raised his head again and once more glared at the hateful bruise. Suddenly, he shook himself from his reverie, realizing that Krycek must have activated the damn things before they got on the plane. That meant it had taken at least an hour and a half for this small bruise to form. Skinner’s mind whirled at that - it was acting much slower than the last time! For some reason, Krycek hadn’t turned the control device up to full power. Why? Walter knew how much Krycek hated him, how much he wanted him dead. The feeling was mutual. Boy, was it mutual. So why give him more time....

Unless he had been ordered to do so. That smoking bastard does everything for a reason, Skinner sneered to himself. What would be his reason for letting me live, other than torturing me with the knowledge of my impending death? Skinner’s mind once again did an about-face. What if he thinks I’m still useful, that I can help them once we’re in Abidjan? Maybe he had Krycek set the control at a lower setting, giving me time to change my mind. This seemed like the most logical explanation. Skinner would have to find out what more they wanted from him, but would he be able to make them believe he regretted his decision to help Mulder and Scully and had chosen to switch sides again? Would he be able to do that and still help Mulder and Scully? He didn’t know, but he had to try.

Resolved to follow through on his plan, Skinner again faced himself in the mirror and quickly washed his naked torso and face. He dried off, re-dressed and left the lavatory, his outward expression showing no evidence of the doubt and anxiety raging inside him. He would do it, he had to do it - not for himself, his fate had already been determined by a flick of a switch. But he had to do it for Mulder. For Scully.

He resumed his seat quietly, barely jostling Mulder in the process, but nonetheless waking the exhausted agent. Mulder’s eyes flew open, his panic and confusion immediate upon regaining consciousness. He began to thrash against Walter’s calming hands, his breathing turning harsh and his eyes wild. Walter gripped his arms more tightly, but still more reassuring than restraining. "Sshhhh, ssshhh. It’s alright, Mulder." Mulder’s eyes flew to his superior at the sound of his name. "We’re on a plane to Scully, remember? We’re going to find Scully."

Mulder slowly registered Skinner’s words, and began to settle down. Still tense and wary, but more cognizant of his surroundings. "We’re going to Scully." A statement, not a question.

"That’s right. To Scully." Walter removed one of his hands from the scared agent’s arms, and slid the other one up to gently squeeze his shoulder. "We’re going to find Scully and everything will be alright." Walter prayed his words would turn out to be true.

Mulder winced, his right hand flying up to his temple, but nodded in acceptance of Skinner’s reassurance. He settled back against his seat, still flinching in pain but once again calm. "To Scully. To Scully." He continued to whisper this mantra as he slowly fell back to sleep.

Skinner watched him closely, noting his lips still forming those two words, even while unconscious. "I swear to you, Mulder," Skinner promised him, his voice low but emphatic, "we will find Scully. And we’ll find a cure for whatever has happened to you. If it kills me, I promise you we’ll find the truth." Mulder’s face had turned even more child-like in sleep, and Skinner couldn’t resist brushing the stray lock of hair out of his agent’s face. I love them both, he realized. In different ways, yes, but I do love them both.

Skinner sighed and sat back, leaving Mulder to his fitful rest. Somehow, he vowed himself, I will find a way to help him, to regain her trust, and maybe, just maybe, save us all. He finally allowed himself to relax, and as his broad shoulders slowly lost their rigidity, he joined Mulder in slumber.

The Ivory Coast

Special Agent Dana Scully stared at the sight before her, looming larger than life beneath the clear, shallow water. This simply can’t be what I’m seeing, she tried to convince herself. A spaceship. A spaceship....? Holy Mary, mother of God....

Dana closed her eyes for a moment, then reopened them and stared again. Yep. Still there. A spaceship.

All those years of her rationalizations, of haranguing Mulder for his ‘insane’ beliefs, playing The Great Skeptic....and here it was in front of her. She could see it, touch it. It was real. Yes, she had seen many strange things over the years with Mulder, people and events she couldn’t explain away with science, but somehow, she had held on to that skepticism, that basic belief that extraterrestrial life was just science fiction dreamed up by incredibly imaginative authors or trailer park residents imbibing in one too many Bud Lights (TM). But she couldn’t deny this.

The ship was metallic, silvery in color and about 20 meters across. She was standing at it’s edge which was etched with the same kind of writing shown on the rubbing that had set off Mulder’s psychosis. The entire ship was submerged beneath tons of water and sand, with only the top surface barely visible. There was no hatch that she could discern, nor any other kind of opening that might lead to some answers to Mulder’s condition.

Her confused mind quickly switched gears. She shouldn’t have left him like that. Alone. Afraid. In the presence of liars and traitors. Dana fumed silently, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and glaring at the hateful ship. How? How could he do this to them? To her? He’s supposed to be our friend....

She didn’t know what made her more upset, the thought that in his time of need Mulder called on that treacherous bitch, Diana Fowley, or that Skinner had betrayed her and was once more doing the Consortium’s dirty work. Actually, she did know which made her more upset, she just didn’t want to think about why it made her more upset. How could he go through my personal files? How could he let them do this to Mulder? How could he leave me alone like this...

She felt more alone than ever before in her life. In the past whenever Mulder had ditched her, whenever they were in trouble, she knew she could always go to Skinner for assistance. Oh, he might argue and protest why he couldn’t help, but somehow he always came through. She had never realized just how much she had come to depend on him.

The rumbling of the waves crashing close by reminded her she didn’t have much time before the tide came in, before she’d have to return to the city. But as she stood there feeling the wet sand squish between her toes and the salt air abrasive against her skin, she couldn’t escape the image of Walter Skinner staring after her at the hospital, the guilt and pain evident in his usually stony countenance. If his remorse was genuine, then why had he turned against them, against her?

Okay. That was the thing really bothering her - she felt personally betrayed by him. Skinner hadn’t betrayed the X-Files or Mulder’s quest, he had betrayed her. She closed her eyes again, shutting out the ship that refused to give up it’s secrets easily. Her arms wrapping more tightly around her slender shoulders, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to instill some warmth in them. Suddenly, her mind was flooded with an image of Walter Skinner’s arms wrapping around her, pulling her tightly against his broad chest. His big, muscular arms would feel so good, so safe...she shook herself and her eyes opened wide. Where the hell had that come from? Walter Skinner was her boss, and, at the moment, her enemy. How in god’s name could she possibly be thinking about him in a romantic fashion? She shook herself mentally again for good measure, but the image persisted. It not only persisted but continued in greater detail: the smell of him - slightly musky mixed with the spicy scent of his aftershave; the way his big hands would cover most of her back, warming her to her very core; the gentle pressure of his chin resting against the top of her head....Jesus! She forced the image from her mind, deliberately settling her arms back against her sides. When had she started thinking of Skinner in this manner?

Dana shook her head and snorted in disgust, her coppery brows arching in pique at her weakness. Pining away for a man who obviously didn’t feel anything for her was not helping the situation. She had to discover a way to unlock the mysteries of the ship half buried beneath the sea so she could in turn help Mulder. The trouble was, she didn’t know where to even begin.

She sighed and ran her left hand up her neck into her hair, made a glowing crimson by the setting sun. Gently massaging away the headache that had been building for the last twelve hours, she once again glared at the ship. Her headache got worse. How the hell was she going to figure this out by herself? None of the natives would help her - they had made that perfectly clear by refusing to even show her the location of the ship. Only one of them had taken pity on her, and he had practically run back the way they had came once he had "done his duty." Dana had never felt more alone in her life with no one to turn to, no way to determine how to proceed and no idea of how to help Mulder and fight the many forces against them.

All on its own, her mind again brought forth an image of Walter Skinner - strong, sturdy, reliable. Scully forcibly pushed the image away, disgusted again at her weakness. She would figure this out, dammit. She had to. For Mulder’s sake.

Dana gave the ship one final, probing glare, then admitted defeat - for the moment. She couldn’t do anything more tonight. She would return to Abidjan and get some rest -- maybe she would find more answers at the University tomorrow.

With barely a glance in the direction of the ship behind her, Dana walked back across the beach to her parked vehicle. Tomorrow. I’ll find some answers then, she silently vowed.

University of Abidjan, 14 hours later

Dana Scully paced the small office of the late Doctor Merkmallen. It had taken her almost three hours to cajole the University authorities into allowing her access to Merkmallen’s files and records, and she had spent another three hours in a futile search for anything pertaining to the alien artifacts. She had found nothing. Nothing! Scully sat down heavily in the professor’s chair, bracing herself against the edge of the hardwood desk. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, feeling the tears begin to gather behind her eyelids. Trying to regain control, she reviewed, step-by-step, everything she had done so far to determine if she had missed something.

One. She had accessed the professor’s computers, and, using some tricks shown to her by the Lone Gunmen, had successfully hacked into all of his protected files. Nothing.

Two. She had searched his desk, shelves, books and boxes for any additional computer disks, rubbings, notes, vague references or doodles of anything that could possible pertain to the artifacts or the alien ship. Again nothing.

Three. She had emptied the desk, shelves and boxes in the slim chance that any disk, rubbing or notes had been taped or in other ways hidden in the aforementioned desk, shelves and boxes. She had even crawled under the desk in the even slimmer chance that something might be taped to the underside of the sturdy piece of furniture, an action which was, she had to admit, pathetic and desperate.

And, much to her surprise, found.....nothing.

Nada. Zilch. Not one fucking clue to tell her what the fuck was happening with Mulder, what those goddammed sons-of-bitches had done to him or how in the fucking hell she could save his sanity and his life.

Inside her mind, Dana could hear Sister Mary Margaret’s disapproving voice: "Good girls don’t use such language, Dana Katherine. Foul language is the devil’s work and will do nothing but earn you a place in the eternal fires of damnation." Yeah, well bite me, sister! Dana yelled back to the nagging voice of her Catholic upbringing. God obviously doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me or Mulder, so why should I give a fuck what you think?

Scully’s hands flew to her face, her fingers pressing against her eyes, trying to will the tears back. "Fuck," she muttered brokenly, with little strength behind the invective. "What am I going to do....?"

She hadn’t slept in more than three days. She had traveled across the U.S. and back and then across the Atlantic Ocean, had driven two hours on what could hardly be considered a road to find a mostly-submerged alien space ship, had driven another two hours back to her hotel(?) where mattresses were reserved for visiting diplomats and had spent the last six hours at this fucking university for nothing! Nothing! A wave of hopelessness crashed over her, conquering her futile attempts to hold back the flow of tears. She couldn’t do this - she couldn’t save Mulder, she couldn’t fight them, she couldn’t....

She couldn’t do this alone.

"Damn you to hell, Skinner," Dana hoarsely cursed the man whose betrayal had haunted her from across the globe. Damn you, she thought as her control finally gave in to the flood of tears. Exhausted, frustrated and just plain scared, she couldn’t fight back as the force of her emotions wracked her small frame. Her body gently rocked back and forth, her face buried in her hands.

"Agent Scully?"

Through her haze of despair, Dana dimly recognized the voice as familiar, but wasn’t totally certain it wasn’t just her imagination.

"Dana...?"

A warm hand tentatively touched her shoulder. A big hand. Strong but gentle, judging from the almost tender way it squeezed her taut muscle. The hand rubbed up and down her upper arm, and her emotionally exhausted brain finally registered it as real. She raised her head, wiping her face at the same time. She looked up. And up. Her vision cleared and the large man came suddenly into focus.

Skinner.

Walter Skinner, the man himself, stood before her looking concerned (damn him!), supportive (cock-sucking bastard!) and sincere (the lying fuck!) all at the same time. All of her exhaustion immediately dissipated and transformed to righteous fury. How dare he! How fucking dare he stand there looking at her like that after the way he had betrayed her!

Her loss of control must have included her facial muscles; Skinner caught the look she gave him and quickly pulled his hand from her arm, taking a step back. He took a deep breath and clenched his chiseled jaw in anticipation of the oncoming storm. Dana slammed her hands down flat on the surface of the desk and was treated to a gratifying wince from the 6’2" former Marine. She raised herself menacingly to her full 5’3" and hissed between her teeth, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

*******************

The flight to Lisbon had been uneventful and the connection to Abidjan on time. Skinner had been grateful for the good luck, no matter how small. His hopes for smooth sailing, however, were short lived.

Mulder, although unconscious for the entire first leg of the journey and relatively in control for the takeoff of the second, had become more and more distressed the closer they came to the Ivory Coast. By the time the plane set down at the Abidjan airport, it took the full strength of Skinner and two flight attendants to hold Mulder down in his seat as he screamed for Scully, begging his frantic boss to stop the pain. An ambulance had met them on the runway and carried the suffering agent to the University hospital. Checking Mulder into the facility took another two hours, by which time he had slipped into catatonia - almost to the point of being considered comatose. Skinner had reluctantly left him with the puzzled doctors and nurses to search for Scully.

Fortunately, it hadn’t taken him long. University gossip being what it was, he discovered quickly that he and Mulder weren’t the only federal agents on the campus. Skinner rushed to the small building which housed the Biology department, determined to put things right with her, to repair her damaged trust in him.

When he walked in the ransacked office to find her disheveled and weeping, his normally stony facade melted; she looked so small and fragile behind that huge, wooden desk. Skinner’s heart was rended with the knowledge that he was partly responsible for her pain. He walked quietly to her side, knowing she would hate displaying any weakness to him, but needing desperately to show her that he was there for her, that he was still her friend and could be trusted. He removed his ever-present wire rims and rubbed his face, feeling all the tiredness and anxiety of the last forty hours suddenly well up in his throat as he watched the beautiful agent cry. He laid his glasses quietly on the desk before reaching out to her. He wanted nothing to hide his feelings this time. Like Mulder, Skinner could only earn back Scully’s trust with the unvarnished truth. He touched her with all the tenderness and love he felt for her: just a gentle, but reassuring squeeze on her trembling shoulder. It had taken her a moment to respond, but when she looked up at him, what little confidence he had felt in his ability to win her over drained immediately away. Walter had expected Scully to be suspicious and even combative, but he had never anticipated her fury and unconcealed hatred.

"I said, what the fuck are you doing here?!" Dana Scully’s voice rose both in pitch and volume as her rage was fueled even further by her raw feelings of betrayal. She spun away from him, stomping in the opposite direction then changed her mind in mid-stride and spun back around, charging him like a freight train at full speed. When Skinner didn’t move out of her way, Scully poured the full force of her pain and frustration into the blows of her fists against his massive chest.

Skinner didn’t deflect her attack despite the fact he was already in some pain from the nanocytes’ tireless activity; he was ready to accept whatever she dealt. He could see her exhaustion in the circles beneath her eyes, the sunken pallidity of her skin. The fact that she had been crying only heightened his feelings of responsibility for their present situation and his sense of protectiveness towards her. Walter simply stood there, allowing her to pound away her fury and despair.

Although she had at first hit him several times in succession, Scully’s blows slowed to accent her shouted accusations. "You LIED to us!! You KNEW that they were behind this thing all the TIME!!" Dana’s eyes bored into his, while he tried to convey his sorrow and his love through his unhindered gaze. Her previously blazing glare wavered and her voice began to break. Her fists opened to clutch his dark suitcoat and she clung to his lapels as her fury finally wore itself out. "I trusted you..." she whispered hoarsely as her forehead lowered to rest against his muscular chest. "I thought you were my friend..." Dana began once more to sob, spasmodically gripping the dark fabric of his suit and pulling herself tighter into his warmth.

After a moment of uncertainty, Walter finally responded to the trembling woman. His arms slid up around her shoulders to hold her firmly but gently against him as her petite body was wracked with emotions she could no longer keep at bay. He closed his eyes and rested his chin on top of her head. Without thinking he brushed his lips against the silky softness of her hair, breathing in her distinct scent of cinnamon and an undefinable something that he would forever be able to identify as Scully. He could feel his own tears start to gather behind his eyelids as he was able to catch a few muffled words from the weeping agent, her voice ragged and barely audible.

"I...found it...and...I couldn’t figure out what to do...." Skinner held her even tighter in response to her despair, rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. He strained to hear her broken monologue as it continued against the firm expanse of his chest. "I had to fight them...to let me in here...and then I found nothing..." Her voice dissolved again to sobs as she shook harder in his arms. Walter couldn’t hold back his own tears as he rocked Dana back and forth, kissing her hair and rubbing his hands up and down her quaking back.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Dana’s sobs subsided and she leaned quietly against him, her arms wrapped around his waist, allowing his strength to support her. She didn’t pull away so Walter loosened his hold on her, continuing his reassuring caress.

Long, silent minutes passed while they stood there holding each other and then Dana spoke again, her voice even hoarser and more forlorn than before. Without raising her head from where it was buried against his damp shirt, she whispered, "The worst part of all of it was that I felt so alone...."

Walter’s breath caught at her words, the full weight of his guilt at betraying her pressing against his heart, just as she was at that moment. Dana slowly looked up at his face, her eyes red and swollen from crying but no longer enraged. Just tired and needing...something. From him.

Walter raised his hands to cup her tear-streaked face. He sighed, knowing he had to tell her everything now but dreading it. It had been too long since he had opened himself up to anyone, but he couldn’t be any less honest with her than she had been with him.

"Dana," he began hesitantly, "I did lie to you and Mulder, but at the time I had no choice." His fingers wiped away the moisture from her cheeks as he tried to explain to her the reasons behind his betrayal. "I can’t tell you all the details because I’m afraid it will endanger you as well," his voice became almost pleading as he rushed on, "but please believe me when I say I never thought you or Mulder would be harmed. I didn’t know what was happening to Mulder, I swear." Walter’s hands strayed to Dana’s hair, stroking her scalp and neck softly, lingeringly. "If I had thought for a second that either one of you were in danger, I would have let them...carry out their threats towards me." Whoa. That had been close. Skinner couldn’t tell her about the nanocytes’ recent activity. She was definitely smart enough to put two and two together and figure out the rat bastard’s involvement with his mysterious illness. He drew a deep breath and let it out, slowly, lowering his hands to her shoulders. Walter’s deep brown eyes didn’t waver from her azure ones as he spoke next: "I would never, never do anything to put you in danger. Your friendship means everything to me. YOU mean everything to me. That’s why I’m here now." Walter breathed deep again and held it, waiting for her response.

Scully blinked once. Twice. Then let out a long sigh herself, part exhaustion, part relief, part frustration. Relief that he was here, frustration that she had turned to jello at the hard reality of his body beneath her hands. She couldn’t believe she had broken down in front of her boss. Skinner! AD Hard Ass! She disregarded the useless recrimination; no use worrying about it now - it was already done. But what did he mean he couldn’t tell her any details, that it would "endanger" her? What, did he think she wasn’t in any danger NOW? That Mulder wasn’t in any danger? Oh god, Mulder. He had left him behind, too. Ok, one problem at a time - I’ll deal with that in a second, she told herself.

They had threatened him? Well, of course they had threatened him! It wasn’t like Skinner to go down without a fight. Whatever they had on him must be pretty serious. Ok, she could deal with his initial betrayal; he was here now and that’s what mattered. In her heart she knew he wouldn’t purposely put her or Mulder in danger. Skinner had spent too much time, invested too much of his own well-being into keeping them out of danger, so she believed him there. She didn’t want to consider his next-to-last statement, not even briefly. It felt too raw, too close to what she was clutching against her own lonely heart.

Did she believe him enough to trust him fully again? When Dana looked up into his earnest, unshielded eyes she made her decision.

As Skinner watched her anxiously for response, he was treated to a rare, full Dana Scully smile. One that made his toes curl and his heart expand against the brick walls he had spent so many years erecting around it. Skinner’s lips curled, first on one side, and then the other. As his grin widened, Scully’s didn’t diminish but rather settled as she relaxed more completely in his arms, her hold around him a little less desperate.

His eyes narrowing a little, Walter looked at her quizzically and said, "So....are we...okay?" The smile was a good thing after all, but he didn’t want to make any assumptions with the fiery redhead.

Dana’s smile softened as she heard the tentative question. She looked him full in the eyes and said, "Yes. I believe what you said, about not knowing we would be hurt." She smiled a little wider as the breath Walter had been holding exploded from him in a rush and his expression shone not only with relief but gratitude. "I believe you’re here for me now," she continued, "and if you don’t feel you can tell me yet about what they threatened you with, I’ll understand, but," Dana fixed him with a serious stare, "you WILL tell me about it when this is over. Is that understood?" It wasn’t a question.

Walter grinned crookedly, his left lower lip dropping a little in a cross between "Aw shucks" and "That’s my Dana!" His expression turned serious again, reflecting her own and he vowed softly, "Dana, that’s a promise." Dana smiled at him again, and he was so happy at having repaired their friendship that he cupped her face in his big hands and tilted his head down towards hers, gently brushing her lips with his own.

Dana didn’t back away or otherwise try to escape the kiss; after all that had transpired between them in the last few minutes, a kiss seemed as natural and right as breathing. In fact, it felt more than right. It felt good. Ignoring the fact that they were in a hostile environment, that everyone was against them and they were fighting the clock to save her partner, Dana closed her eyes and kissed Walter back, marveling at the feel of his soft lips against her own, the feel of his warm breath against her cheek and the scent of his slightly overheated body, ripely male and wonderful. She could lose herself in this incredible sensation, and she fought the urge to arch into him, to feel his body hard against her soft one, this time in passion, not compassion. She wanted to lose herself in him, to have those muscular yet tender arms hold her above his body as she drew him inside her, drawing in his strength. She tried to push the mental image aside; she couldn’t give in to these feelings...yet. She somehow managed to stop herself just as her tongue began to grow restless behind her closed lips, aching to explore the moist recesses of Walter’s warm, sweet mouth. With more regret than she cared to admit, she pulled away gently from the kiss, waves of sensation from the brief touch washing down her fatigued body and settling in a warm throbbing between her legs.

When the kiss ended, Walter found it slightly difficult to breathe. He had just meant to lightly kiss Dana out of friendship -- ok, he had to admit that what he felt for her was far more than friendship, but his intention was to affirm everything that had been said and felt between them. He hadn’t expected her to respond passionately. Well, it wasn’t exactly passionate, but it wasn’t exactly platonic, either. Anyway, his fantasies had dwelled on the feel and taste of her for so long he wasn’t about to split hairs now. She had kissed him back, her lips moving softly, silkily beneath his own, still closed but somehow promising more. Walter pulled back from Dana slightly, looking dreamily into her beautiful countenance. His breathing fluttered again as he registered the sensual, unguarded softness around Dana’s lips and eyes, the way her breathing had picked up in pace a bit and even came out a bit shaky. Come to think of it, he was feeling pretty shaky himself. Down boy, he chastised himself, trying to ignore the rush of blood to his groin, you don’t have time for this now. Walter pushed aside the desire that threatened to overwhelm him and gave her his best "you’re my buddy" smile.

Dana saw the shift in Walter’s demeanor and although she understood and agreed with the need for it, she wanted very much to explore what they had begun. Down girl, she told herself and returned Walter’s friendly smile.

Walter lowered his hands from her face and ran them down her arms. Scully almost shuddered as the electricity of his touch shot across her sensitized body. When his hands reached her own, she clutched them not only out of friendship but for actual physical support.

They shared one last tender smile before Walter let go of her right hand to grab his glasses laying discarded on the huge desk. He put them back on and regarded his companion with some sadness for the trial she still had to face. He squeezed her left hand once for reassurance and then said, "Let’s go see Mulder." He started to pull Scully around the desk towards the door, but she resisted against him.

"No! I can’t leave Abidjan! The answers are here!" Scully waved her right hand angrily, desperately around the ransacked office. "If we go back to DC we have no chance of helping Mulder!" Dana’s eyes pleaded with Walter’s, willing him to understand.

"Dana, you don’t understand," Walter stepped back towards her, squeezing her tiny hand in his once more. "Mulder is here. I brought him with me. We’re not going to DC," Walter finished sadly as Dana’s eyes opened wide, digesting his news. Walter looked down briefly at the floor, dreading the pain he knew she would experience at her partner’s state of health.

Scully took a step closer, trying to catch Skinner’s downturned gaze. "What is it?" she queried, her voice soft and hesitant, anticipating the worst.

Walter raised his eyes to hers, his face sober. "He’s not in good shape, Dana. He’s catatonic."

Dana sucked in her breath as if he had punched her in the stomach, her eyes again filling with moisture. "Catatonic...?" Her eyes probed Skinner’s, looking for reassurance, but his somber mien provided none. She swallowed hard, but asked with a shaking voice, "He’s not in a coma...?" It was a question she really didn’t want an answer to, but she needed the truth.

"In a coma, no," Skinner replied, his voice as soft as hers, "but close enough for the doctors to be extremely worried." He shook his head in disgust and frustration, "They don’t know what the hell is wrong with him or how to treat him. All they can do is watch him and keep him on an IV."

Skinner’s voice betrayed his disgust with the situation, sounding more like the surly AD Scully knew and loved. Loved? Dana’s brows shot up at that startling thought; don’t even go there, she warned herself.

Walter’s own brows knitted in confusion at her strange reaction to his words, and Dana rushed to cover her mental meandering. "An IV? Is it just for fluids or are they attempting medication?" There. That sounded good.

Skinner wrote off her puzzling reaction as nerves and fatigue and answered, "They don’t even know where to start, as far as medication is concerned." He ran his right hand over his scalp, stopping to briefly rub the knotted muscles at the base of his neck as he continued to express his frustration. "I just don’t get it. I mean," he looked at Dana, his weariness and worry evident in his face and stance, "he held up really well all the way here, but the nearer we got to the Ivory Coast..."

"The nearer you got to the ship...yes, that makes sense." Dana had spoken her thoughts, once more the clinician, the investigator, trying to put all the pieces together.

Skinner looked at her, confused. "The ship? What ship?"

Dana glanced up at him, her brows arching in surprise. She thought she had mentioned it earlier while she had been sobbing all over the front of his suitcoat.

"I’ll show you. After we see Mulder." This time it was Dana who pulled Walter around the desk towards the door. She had wallowed in self pity long enough - she wasn’t alone in this anymore. She didn’t have to feel guilty about leaving Mulder behind. She pushed all self-centered thoughts out of her mind and focused on her partner and best friend. They would have to move quickly.

Walter’s mind reeled with the implications of a...spaceship. It was just too much to deal with, all at once. Priorities, Walt, he rebuked himself. First Mulder, then this ship, then Krycek, then....Dana.

One step at a time, old boy.