***
 

"You've got to understand what he's been through. I mean, now he's back and you're... " 

John Doggett got up from his chair and marched angrily towards the door while Skinner was still speaking.
Just as he was about to pass through the doorway, he abruptly stopped. Skinner watched him warily, watched his slim shoulders tense up, watched his large hands ball into tight fists, watched him turn.

"Jesus, Walter, what the hell is this? Mulder's not back five minutes, and he's got you jumping through hoops already!" He wasn't shouting, but it was close.

"You don't want to do this here, John," Skinner's voice was low, hissing through clenched teeth, a dangerous sound. If Doggett noticed, he wasn't heeding the warning.

"Do what? Call you on your crap, Walt? Ask if you can be objective on this case when it affects not just you and me, but the alien abductee of your dreams?" His sarcasm was sharp and icy, and Skinner reacted, not in pain, but in anger.

"You're out of line, Agent Doggett!" he yelled.

"No, sir, I think it's you who's outta line here. In more ways than one." Doggett glanced pointedly at Skinner's crotch.

Skinner took a threatening step forward, Doggett stood his ground, and suddenly Walter sighed and backed off, seeming to deflate before the other man's pale no-nonsense gaze.

"I love him, John," Skinner whispered, soft words that hit Doggett harder than any fist could have. His shoulders slumped, and he sounded even more defeated than Skinner had a moment ago when he said:

"Great…so what the hell was I, Walter, just a convenient substitute?"

Walter frowned, blinked rapidly several times, then set his jaw, and his expression became even grimmer.

"You know you were."

Doggett's hands, which had relaxed as he spoke, now clenched tightly into fists again, and he took a deep shaky breath, wishing he had just kept walking.

"Well; all right, then; I guess that's that."

"Dammit, John!" Skinner raised his voice again, making Doggett flinch slightly. "Don't play doe-eyed virgin with me. You wanted it as much as I did, and you knew exactly what you were getting into."

"Maybe I did, Walt, and maybe I didn't."

Skinner paused at the rough hurt he could hear in Doggett's words, and he realized that maybe he had gone too far.

When the silence went from uncomfortable to awkward, Doggett looked up from the serious consideration he had been giving his shoes, and glanced at Skinner quizzically.

"Truce?" Skinner asked quietly.

"I don't think so." He turned abruptly, determined to leave this time, and not look back.

"John-" Skinner didn't know what he was going to say, he only knew he didn't want it to end like this.

"Forget it, Skinner." He kept his back to the other man, but his voice carried and his words were clear. "I can hear it already. You're getting ready to give me the old "you just want to be friends" speech, in one form or another. And if you do that, if you demean me-us-that way, Alex Krycek will be the least of your worries." The first step was the hardest, but once he got moving, Doggett was out the door, not looking back.

Walter just stood in the center of his office for long minutes, feeling very old, and lost, and uncertain.