***

Skinner turned at the sound of someone lumbering through the brush towards him and Scully, and grinned, relieved, when he saw it was Detective Josan.

“Detective! We’ve been waiting for you—let’s go—Detective Josan?” He saw the blood first, and then Josan was falling forward, catching Scully’s sleeve and nearly pulling her down on top of him. His grip left a bloody smear down her arm.

“What the hell?” Walter stepped up quickly and caught the young man just before he hit the ground. He lowered him gently down, and pulled away a hand wet with blood.

Scully was on her knees in a flash, immediately checking the man for injuries. It was bad, and she didn’t need to see the bloody froth bubbling on his lips to know it. The two gaping wounds in his chest were spurting blood with every raspy breath, and she clamped both small hands over them.

“Muh—muh—muh—“

“Don’t try to talk,” Scully commanded in a harsh whisper.  She risked pulling her hands away for a moment to tear open his shirt. More blood spattered her, but she ignored it.  Skinner leaned in close as Josan muttered more nonsensical syllables, then recoiled from the fine spray of blood that came up from under Scully’s hands. Not quick enough, however, as it misted his glasses, and he yanked them off as if they were hot.

“What the hell is this?!” Skinner exclaimed, even as he dropped his glasses and reached for his cell phone. Before he could dial 911, though, he felt a weak yet insistent pull at his trouser cuff, one which threatened to upset his balance, and he looked back down at Josan.

Scully was trying to perform some half-assed CPR on the man, but even to Skinner’s untrained eye, she was fighting a losing battle. Yet, somehow, Josan’s eyes were open, and fixed intently on Skinner. Then the dying man looked down, and Skinner followed his gaze to the rumpled, bloodstained paper that he was pressing on him. He made one more small noise, then fell back, limp and unconscious.

“Dammit! Hang on, Josan!” Scully pounded more furiously on the man’s chest.

Skinner took the paper from Josan’s lax, outstretched hand; it was a map. As he uncrumpled it, he discovered several small buildings had black ‘X’ marks on them, and a spot just to the east of them was circled in red.

“Scully—“

Scully was still encouraging the unconscious man, muttering under her breath even as she counted off the seconds between heartbeats. “Come on, come on, breathe, dammit…”

“Scully, we have to go.”

She looked up at him in shock.

“What? For God’s sake, sir, we can’t just leave. Call the paramedics—get someone out here—he’s not –we can’t—“

“We can, and we will.” Skinner knelt down beside her, gave the detective a stricken look, and then his features hardened, and he said to Scully: “Look at this. Do you think this is a coincidence? It must have something to do with Mulder.” He stabbed the numbers on his cell phone viciously, muttering to himself, “unless they’re arming the bears nowadays…”

Scully saw that the blood was flowing from Josan’s wounds much more sluggishly, and she realized that it was a good bet no amount of help was going to be enough, or be in time to save the young man. She recognized the empathetic ache in her heart that she always felt in the face of senseless death, but then her thoughts turned to Mulder. The same fate could be her partner’s, she realized, and she turned her attention from the man whom she could not help, to the man that she could.

“Yes, Double time!” Skinner was barking into the phone like the marine he once was, and Scully was grateful for his strength, even if it was just for show in light of his worry for his lover.

Skinner snapped the phone off, and said, “Here in ten, they said. Twenty tops.”

“I don’t think that will be enough time,” Scully said through gritted teeth. Tears of frustration welled up in her eyes.

“It will have to be. I want to know where the hell everyone else is. McCormick,  for example.” He looked off into the woods. “We shouldn’t be running around here without adequate backup.”

*-without adequate backup. Again. Tell me, Mulder, do you ditch Scully to make her neurotic, or me?

*It’s not like that, Walter, I just—

*--just what, Mulder? Just want to get yourself killed?

*That’s not fair!

*What’s not fair is the way you think you can just bugger off every time someone shouts E.T. phone home, without so much as a ‘see ya later’. Don’t you know there are people who worry about you?

*…

*What was that?

*I said why the hell would anyone worry about me?

*I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, Mulder. You know damned well that Scully would probably jump through rings of fire for you by now. And if you’re questioning how I feel about you…

*I guess I just don’t see the attraction. You said it yourself, Walter. I’m a neurotic loner with suicidal tendencies. You and Scully both should just get the hell away from me while you can.

*Shit, Mulder, get down off the cross, someone else needs the wood!

*What?

*Do you think martyring yourself like this is going to make things better for the people who care about you? Did it ever occur to you that we just might like you? Love you, even when you can’t seem to love yourself? Come here.

*Oh, Walter…

*Mulder, you don’t make loving you easy. But I’d rather spend the rest of my life worrying about loving you than worrying about losing you…

*For whatever it’s worth, Walter. I love you too.  And I promise, I’ll take Scully along on my next life threatening situation…

*Hey, if it keeps you safe…

“…safe. What do you think?

“Sorry, Scully, just worrying. It’s what us A.D. types do. What do I think of what?” He startled when he heard the sound of breaking branches, and reached for his gun.  Only when he determined that it was the paramedics he had called did he let down his guard.

He and Scully watched silently as Detective Josan was poked, prodded and pronounced.

“I don’t like this at all,” Skinner muttered to no one. Scully patted his arm in a clumsy yet comforting way, although he didn’t think she was even aware she was doing it. They moved back as the medics took the dead man away on a stretcher, and then Skinner looked down at the map that Josan had lost his life to give them. He had been kneading it compulsively for many minutes, and he frowned at the blood now grimed into his hands.

“We have to figure out how this ties in with what’s happened to Mulder,” said Scully. Skinner was lost in his own unhappy thoughts, so Scully tried petting his arm again. He suddenly looked old to her.

“He’ll be safe. We’ll make it happen, sir, I promise you.”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t need to. She could see the worry and the hope and the fear, and most of all, the love, etched across his face.

“Let’s go.” She started off into the trees, knowing he would follow.

***

*Jesus, he’s got a gun. Oh man, I am so dead here! What happened to me? I can see—I can move—sorta—okay, I can sit up—is that blood in my lap—hurts…I taste blood in my mouth—who the hell is this Ranger Dan knockoff—what’s that? Who’s there? Oh, man, this is so not how I thought it would be—not tonight—today---there’s supposed to be candlelight—wine—Walter—oh, no, is that the little girl—No! Oh, shit! No! I thought she was—she could’ve been—well, she’s dead now—fucking bastard! More sounds—is that dog’s barking? Is that someone coming—why can’t they hear me?  Fuck off, buddy, get that gun the hell outta my face—what? What the hell does that mean? Move? I can’t! I-what do you mean? What—no time to put me out? Hey, no, don’t—I’ll come along quietly copper, I swear, you don’t have to roughs me up! Oh god, don’t touch me there, please, no, don’t, oh my god, OH MY GOD--