Chapter 14-Smooth
“Make it real or else forget about it...”

To anyone else, this chunk of dirt, weeds and shrubs might have looked just like every other part of the forest, but to Mulder, the woods were full of ghosts.

Skinner came up behind him, wrapped two strong arms around him and whispered sternly in his ear, “Where’s your coat?”

“I’m not cold,” Mulder replied, just as a cool breeze ruffled his hair and made him a shivering liar. Skinner brought his arms off him just long enough to shuck his windbreaker and drape it over Mulder’s shoulders, leaving himself warm enough in his long sleeved white t-shirt, and plaid flannel over shirt. Then he pulled Mulder close to his chest again.

“Better,” Mulder acknowledged.

“What are you doing out here, puppy?”

Skinner felt Mulder shrug in his arms.

“Oh, you know…ghost busting,” he said with a sad half-grin.

“I don’t think any of the bodies buried out here have any stories left to tell.”

Mulder didn’t reply for a moment, and Skinner held him tighter and kissed him softly on the cheek.

Finally, in a whisper, Mulder said, “What about Krycek?”

“He’s not here,” Skinner’s voice was gruffer than he intended, and he paused, and then said in a softer tone, “He’s not anywhere.”

“But he was, Walter,” Mulder argued, turning abruptly in Skinner’s arms so they were face to face. “We have proof. The medicine—“

“You took it all.” Skinner’s expression added that he was damned happy that Mulder had taken the medicine.

“The food—the generator—“ Mulder persisted.

It was Skinner’s turn to shrug this time. “Anyone could have done that. Even you. Maybe you just don’t remember it.”

“The men in the cabin?” Mulder was like a dog with a bone on the subject, had been since they’d come here and buried the dead men that day, both of them still mostly in shock, but understanding what had to be done nevertheless. Neither one of them had mentioned Krycek then, and for weeks now Skinner had deftly avoided the subject of how exactly he had managed not to be shot, refusing to rise to Mulder’s often less than subtle hints. He knew that they needed time to heal, from disease, from injuries, from their own tattered psyches. But now…

“They shot themselves,” Skinner explained patiently. Hadn’t he seen it himself? Mulder had still been kitten-weak that day, still recovering from his near-death, so most of the dragging and the burying had been done by Skinner, and he’d gotten a good, or maybe not so good, close look at the wounds inflicted on the men. 

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Mulder tempered his words with a smile and an inappropriate kiss on the nose.

Skinner returned the smile. “Almost,” he said.

“You sound like Scully,” Mulder didn’t sound like he was complaining.

“Speaking of which…” Reluctantly, Skinner let Mulder go. “Company’s here. That’s why I came out here looking for you. I picked up some beer in town yesterday, and, well, it’s no A-list-canapé-munching-soiree at the Ritz, but it’s gotta be better than talking to the corpses.”

“Maybe…” Another smile, this one less sad. Another kiss, this one on the lips this time. Then he took the hand Skinner held out to him, and allowed himself to be pulled away. He glanced back once, and could have sworn he saw two dark green sparkles amongst the lighter green and gold of the leaves.

“Walter,” he said, his tone deadly serious, and Skinner halted at once. “Do you—“ he paused, took a breath, didn’t look at his lover and tried again. “Do you think Krycek really came back to save us?” He thought he might have pushed Skinner too far, but the other man turned, gave him a sharp hug, arms wrapped tightly around him, hands stroking up and down his back. He nuzzled his hair, and then looked him right in the eyes, and in a tone warm with understanding, he said, 

“No. I think he came back to save himself.” A more thorough kiss, this one with soft open mouths and hints of things to come. Mulder felt himself leaning into the kiss, and was dimly grateful for his lover’s strength. When Skinner pulled away, they smiled at one another, and the older man took Mulder’s hand again. “Let’s go home, puppy.”

“You know,” Mulder said as they resumed walking through the trees. “That was pretty deep for you, old man.”

Skinner almost commented on the “old man” thing, then just shrugged it off with a grin, which Mulder matched, and then a laugh, and a growled “You just wait, and I’ll show you who’s old.”

Their mingled laughter echoed through the trees.

***

Mulder tensed at the sound of voices as they stepped up onto the porch together. Skinner didn’t comment, just tightened his grip on Mulder’s hand and led him through the front door. 

John Doggett and Ringo Langly were arguing over something, while John Byers tried to interject. Melvin Frohike, meanwhile, was hovering protectively over a diminutive redhead who was sitting in the wooden rocker in the corner and watching the argument with an indulgent smile. None of them noticed Skinner and Mulder walk in until Skinner bent to untie his shoes, and Mulder’s attention froze on Dana Scully. He must have made some sort of sound, because she suddenly looked up. Her eyes grew impossibly wide, and all four men looked up when she cried out.

"Mulder!"

“Scully!” 

The argument was forgotten for a moment as everyone turned to see Mulder racing forward, while Scully struggled to get up out of the chair. Frohike held out an arm, which she used to pull herself up. She took one step forward on legs still mending from unspeakable alien horrors, tottered slightly like a woman three times her age, and then Mulder was there, taking her into his arms, and her own arms were reaching around his waist. 

Scully’s tears wet his shirtfront as she whispered his name over and over again. Despite the assurances she’d gotten from Doggett, that both Skinner and Mulder were alive and safe, until she had actually seen him there in the doorway, she realized she had been mentally preparing herself for his death.

Mulder dropped kisses and tears onto the top of Scully’s head, inhaled her scent and prayed he wasn’t dreaming. Skinner had promised him that she would come, but he’d been terrified to hope for it. He had his own recent ordeal, and the abduction before that to draw memories from, and he knew that some dark part of his soul had thought she’d never want to see him again, that she’d blame him for her own terrifying experience.

Neither of them could pull away. Scully felt a familiar twinge in her ankles, wrists and back, and knew she should be sitting again. Mulder realized that there were others in the room, and that he should be greeting them all. But it was impossible. As best friends nearly separated forever, their universe had narrowed until it was just the two of them.

The Lone Gunmen, not unexpectedly, had decided that this sudden show of strong emotion needed drinks and snacks, and had retreated to the kitchen hastily, with Frohike wiping at his eyes and daring the other two to comment.

The other two men found themselves standing side by side, both watching the scene with a great deal of interest, but polar opposites in expression.

Skinner looked on with a smile of almost parental indulgence, and felt his eyes grow moist when he saw his lover’s tears.

Doggett didn’t look like he was ready to smile just yet. Cry, maybe, but for far more personal reasons. He knew in that moment that he didn’t exist for Dana Scully, and he wondered if he ever would again.

He didn’t have to wonder long. Scully pulled back gently, and reached up to cup Mulder’s face. They smiled through tears at one another, and Scully pulled her friend down and gave him a loving kiss on the forehead.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Mulder whispered.

At this, Scully turned to Doggett. “John?” she called to him weakly and held out a hand.

He was at her side in a flash, taking her small hand in his large one. Scully looked back at Mulder. “You wouldn’t have, if it hadn’t been for John.”

Mulder made a mental note of her use of the man’s first name, then turned a frank gaze on Doggett, who fought the urge to squirm under the intense scrutiny. He returned the look, and for a moment, their eyes did all the asking: John’s ice blue and bright with concern, jealousy and obviously strong feelings for the woman next to him, and Mulder’s hazel and shimmering with teary prisms, making the gold in them sparkle as he remembered all this man had done for them while working with them, and realizing just how deep his commitment to Scully was. He wondered if Scully knew, and a quick glance at her face confirmed for him that she did.

With a smile, he held out his hand. “Doggett…John, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

Hesitantly, Doggett shook Mulder’s hand.

Skinner came up beside Mulder, and now they looked like the start of some crazy square dance as they stood couple to couple, not speaking for a moment, simply relishing the existence of one another. The spell might have been broken had a caller told them to do-si-do, but was instead ended by Scully murmuring Doggett’s name again, and turning to look wistfully back at the rocker.

“Oh, Scully, I’m sorry.” Mulder moved to help her, but Skinner pulled him back firmly, wrapped one strong arm around him in a gesture both loving and demanding, and Mulder leaned into him in acknowledgement as Doggett helped Scully back to her chair. When John turned back and caught Skinner grazing Mulder’s temple with his lips, the last vestiges of his jealousy fell away. He knew that Mulder and Scully had the best friendship in the world, but that there would always be room for him, as there was room for Skinner. 

“Okay, who wants a beer?” Frohike exclaimed, bursting out of the kitchen.

“You buying, Melvin?” asked Doggett.

“Of course.” Frohike could afford to be magnanimous while doling out bottles of beer that Skinner had bought. He paused and gave Scully a warm smile. “Tea, Dana?” he inquired softly, and she nodded, still holding tight to Doggett’s hand. 

“Hey, are there mountain lions up here?” Langly demanded, tumbling gracelessly into the room.

“Oh, man, would you quit it, Langly?” Frohike groused. He was still looking at Scully, but addressed the room as he said, “You can take the geek out of the city but…”

“I’m serious, dude. I swear! I was getting the glasses out of the cupboard, and I saw one in the window.

“You saw a mountain lion?” Doggett was skeptical.

“Well, it’s eyes anyway. It was looking at me with these big green eyes. Like it wanted to get in here, and—“

“That’s it, no beer for you. You’re cut off!”

This made Scully and Doggett laugh, but Mulder tipped a look at Skinner, who was looking right back at him with a matching perplexed expression.

“Mulder?” Scully caught the exchange, and couldn’t hide the worry in her voice.

Mulder turned to her with a smile. “No cougars here, Scully, scout’s honor,” he replied with a smile. “An occasional rat, maybe, but mostly just…” His smile got wider. “Just chipmunks!” he exclaimed.

“The acorn is out there,” Skinner intoned gravely, and then they were hugging one another and laughing in almost hysterical snorts and gasps, while the rest of the room stared on in confusion…

Mulder wiped his eyes, which had teared up again, this time from mirth, swiped Frohike’s bottle of beer and held it up. “Par-tay!” he exclaimed.

And that’s what it was.