From: Samantha Beere <xne61@dial.pipex.com>
Date: Tue, 16 Jun 1998 11:34:14 -0700
Subject: Tornado. Xanthe

Constructive feedback's nice - I love making contact with people so
feel free to email.


TITLE: TORNADO (1/1)
AUTHOR: XANTHE
ADDRESSS: XANTHE@INNOCENT.COM
RATING: PG
CATEGORY: S/A
SPOILERS: Nothing specific.
KEYWORDS: Skinner/Mulder/Scully friendship
SUMMARY: Friendship story told from Skinner's point of
view as the 3 characters are trapped together in a
basement by a tornado. Lots of Skinner angst.

Usual disclaimer. They belong to CC and 1013 but not to
me. I don't gain financially blah.
Archive anywhere as long as my name's on it.

TORNADO
BY XANTHE

He had seen it. Maybe he was used to it but somehow he
had expected, wanted more from these two. More than the
shared expression of discomfort when he had told them
that they faced a four hour drive with him. More than
the way their eyes met and they only just managed to
stop themselves making faces at each other. He had seen
it. He always saw it.

Skinner pulled on his jacket and picked up his bag,
trudging wearily down to the car lot. It didn't matter
of course, he didn't have any finer feelings on the
subject. A job had to be done and they had to do it.
All three of them. His presence was required because he
had dealt with the case 15 years previously and theirs
partly because of the unusual nature of the recent
offense and partly because of all the agents who worked
for him he trusted and respected Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully the most. And they didn't trust him. They didn't
even like him, and they dreaded the idea of a 4-hour
drive with him, a stay in a motel in adjoining rooms,
casual conversation over meals. As he walked he could
imagine them bemoaning their fate in that little
basement cupboard that Mulder called an office. "4
hours? With Skinner? What did we do to deserve this?"
And Mulder didn't want to investigate this case. He had
some other pet project he was working on and he resented
Skinner's intrusion. Skinner had been required to be
forceful, to insist - not to put too fine a point on it,
to ORDER Mulder into this investigation. So Mulder would
be sulking. He wasn't sure what was worse - a sulking,
snide Mulder or an angry, insolent one. He had dealt
with both in his time, not always very well, he
admitted, but Mulder was a hard case. Even so, whatever
mood he was in, he was always nothing less than
brilliant, passionate and committed and his integrity
was beyond doubt. If only he was sure that Mulder had
the same high regard for him but he knew that he didn't.
Scully even less so. By nature suspicious, she
trusted only the facts. He liked and respected her but
he knew that, like Mulder, she did not return these
feelings.

The trouble was that he viewed himself as their friend,
very probably the only true friend that either of them
had apart from each other. Certainly their only friend
at the FBI. Unfortunately they didn't see him the same
way. They viewed him as a grudging ally, someone who
might or might not help them in a crisis. Someone who
was just as likely to rein them in, take them to task,
demand answers and standards of behavior that they could
not or did not want to provide. An impediment, a
possible traitor. Not a friend though. Definitely not a
friend.

He reached the parking lot, saw Scully standing by the
car he had requisitioned, flicking through a file.
Mulder was leaning against the wall, whistling to
himself, an expression of bored irritation on his face.
With a heavy heart, Skinner approached the car, opened
the trunk, stowed his own bag into it and
stacked theirs on top, then tossed the keys to Mulder,
opened the back door and sank himself down in
the seat.
"You can take first shift, Mulder. Now let's get going,"
Skinner growled. He saw them exchange another glance
at his tone. Oh great, first we have to go on a
case with Skinner and then we find out he's in a
bad mood...their expressions said. He opened his
briefcase, took out some work and pretended to
read.

Two hours later and Scully had taken the wheel. Skinner
leaned back in his seat, stretching his cramped
muscles, and glancing at the two agents. The radio was
on and they were having a muttered conversation, an easy
conversation, sure that he couldn't hear them, that he
was too engrossed in his paperwork or too busy being
sullen to even want to join in. Scully was teasing
Mulder about something, something to do with pencils and
ceilings and in return he was making references to
"possession" and dolls. Skinner felt excluded from their
easy intimacy. It had been a long time since he had
worked with a partner in the field but he had warm
memories of it. The closeness and camaraderie was
something he missed, like he missed those friends he had
lost in Vietnam, their loss still a dull ache inside his
heart. Like he missed Sharon. Like he missed the
presence of one person in his life who cared if he lived
or died. There was no such person. He shrank away from
these thoughts. He had his job and that had to
be enough. No point wanting or expecting anything more
from life. He refused to change, to ingratiate
himself with people in order to win their affection.
True friendship was more than that. He had
experienced it more intensely in Vietnam than he could
ever realistically have hoped to again. And yet,
he had recaptured it in his early days at the FBI;
initially with Vernon Sharkey, his first partner and
later, after Sharkey retired, with Simon Alexander. Both
had been good men, men of integrity. Particularly
Sharkey. Skinner had been partnered with the seasoned,
grizzled "old hand" as a green recruit, straight
out of Quantico. "The Shark's" legend had gone before
him and Skinner had been scared stiff of his
partner at first. In time he grew to appreciate the
other man's straightforward view of life.
"Don't tie yourself up in knots, Walt!" Shark would say.
"Too conscientious, that's your trouble. Don't
worry at everything, like a killer rabbit!"
"A killer rabbit?!"
"That's right. Wild rampaging bunny. That's you. Slow
down, son. Sometimes things just need time to
work themselves out. Answers come outta the blue. You
gotta learn to recognise what you can hurry
along and what needs to stew."
He had very nearly cried when the Shark retired and the
news of his death just a few short months later
hadn't surprised him.
"When I go, there'll be nothing to live for." Shark had
told him with a sigh a couple of weeks before his
retirement. "You hear it all the time. People retiring,
nothing to do, nothing to get up for. Few months
later - zeroville! Dead city."
Skinner smiled. Shark always had a distinctive way of
expressing himself and he had been right.
Retirement had killed him. Then there had been
Alexander...Skinner snapped shut the file he was
looking at with a savage motion of his hand that brought
Mulder's head swivelling round in surprise.
"Sir?" Mulder enquired.
"How much further?" Skinner asked. "You want me to take
a turn at the wheel, Agent Scully?"
Scully exchanged a glance with Mulder.
"No, sir. I'm fine," she murmured, plainly not wanting
to abandon Mulder to the fate of polite chit-chat
with the boss for the rest of the journey. So he stayed
where he was, leaning back in his seat, wondering
why his neck muscles felt as if they were welded
together like iron.

"Sir." He came to with a start. Mulder was kneeling in
his seat, staring at him. "Sorry to wake you but
we have a problem, sir." Mulder told him. He shook his
head to clear it. It felt close, sticky. There was
an oppressive, still heat to the car. He glanced out of
the window. Why was the sky yellow?
"Bad weather warning." Mulder told him. He noticed that
Mulder's shirt was stuck fast against his skin
and he could feel that his own was doing the same.
"What sort of bad weather?" He asked.
"Possible twister." Scully said. "We heard it on the
radio about an hour ago, but we weren't sure how
close we were going to be to it."
"Fairly close by the looks of it." Skinner glanced at
the oppressive sky again.
"Yeah, we kept going but I think we're going to run
straight into it if we carry on," Mulder told him.
Skinner sighed irritably, glancing at his watch.
"You think we should stop?" he asked them.
They glanced helplessly at each other and he sighed
again. What was wrong with people? Put these 2
agents in the field by themselves and they would make a
hundred life or death decisions without even
thinking about it. Stick them in a car with him and ask
them a question about the weather and they acted
as if they'd never had to think for themselves in their
lives before. He was used to this effect, it happened
frequently. People just deferred to him. Maybe they
thought it upset him if they made a decision while he
was there, as if they were encroaching on his territory
or something. It occurred to him that Mulder
would probably ask him what tie he should wear if he
were in the same room while Mulder was changing. This
almost made him smile as he glanced at Mulder's tie.
Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing. Mulder lacked
a certain sartorial elegance in the tie department and,
although he said it himself, Skinner felt he managed his
own wardrobe with a certain low-key style.

"Do we have any information about where the tornado is
headed?" Skinner asked them. Scully shook
her head. "Radio signal's been breaking up," she
explained. A gust of wind suddenly shook the car and
Skinner made a decision fast.
"This way, might be a fair guess. Alright, agents, I
suggest we look for shelter. " He turned round and
saw an enormous dark cloud out of the back window.
"Quickly," he added. Scully nodded and put her
foot down hard on the accelerator.

The car was soon being buffeted by wind and hailstones.
Scully peered through the windscreen, unable
to see clearly. Skinner felt a swooping motion as the
car was lifted off the ground and then placed down
again a few feet further down the road.
"We really need to find shelter," he murmured. Mulder
nodded, his jaw clamped tightly shut, his face
pale.
"There." Skinner pointed to a road with a house at the
far end.
"Worth a try." Scully veered off towards the house,
saying something as she drove but the howling
around them was so strong now that Skinner couldn't hear
her.
"What?" He yelled.
"A basement!" she shouted. "The house might not be safe
if the tornado comes close. And it looks like it
is coming close!"
"Yes." He yelled back. Saying anything else seemed like
a waste of effort. He noticed Mulder's pale
face again, the way the sweat was slickly pouring off
the other man's head. He knew he was drenched
in sweat as well - he didn't have the luxury of a thick
head of hair to soak it up, but all the same, he
recognised the look on Mulder's face because he had seen
it before. Not on Mulder, but on other
people. On his brother whenever they had gone out in a
boat when they were kids. His brother always
ended up heaving his guts out over the side of the boat,
his face as white as a sheet. And his best friend
in Vietnam, Greg Cunningham who had looked this way
whenever they found themselves up somewhere high, or in
a helicopter. He had taken to standing by Greg whenever
he saw the other man's vertigo coming on him,
distracting him, making some stupid joke or just talking
to him in a low, soft tone. It was the tone he adopted
now, talking to Mulder.
"When Scully stops the car, we'll run for the house,
Mulder. Just run, alright?"
Mulder's pupils were dilated and Skinner wasn't sure he
had even heard him. Mulder just stared over
Skinner's shoulder, still kneeling in the front seat,
his eyes fixed on the yellow sky and whirling landscape
he could see through the back window.

The car came to a screeching halt and Scully opened the
door, threw herself out, ran for the building.
Skinner was behind her. A gust of wind took his breath
away and lifted Scully, quite literally, off the
ground. Skinner reached out one big arm and wrapped it
around her waist, his mind filled with an image
of the diminutive agent whisked off by a tornado to
visit the Wizard of Oz. They got to the door when
Skinner looked back and realised that Mulder wasn't
behind him. He could see the other man, still
sitting in the car, his face agonised. Scully turned
immediately and started to go back.
"Stay here!" He hissed, starting the run back to the
car. She nodded, clutching onto the porch to avoid
being carried off into the air by the wind again.
Skinner wrenched open Mulder's door.
"You'll be fine!" He yelled. "Just run, Mulder." Mulder
shook his head, swallowing convulsively.
"I'll stay here," he said, hanging onto the seat belt.
"I'll be fine here. I'm not moving."
"Yes. You are." Skinner glanced at the dark cloud that
was edging steadily towards them, swallowing
sound and making the sky glow an unnatural yellow color.
"Get out now!" He ordered. The tone of voice didn't
work. Mulder just shook his head mutely and tucked
himself even further down in the seat.
Skinner reached into the car and pulled Mulder out
physically, undoing each of the other man's stiff
fingers from the seat belt and yanking him forwards.
"Leave me alone!" Mulder pushed him back and Skinner
took a deep breath and then hit him across the
face, sharply. Mulder stared at him, his eyes shocked,
and Skinner took advantage of the moment to
drag the agent bodily from the car, heaving him across
the yard, towards the porch. Scully came running
out to grab them.
"NO!" He yelled, seeing what she did not, that several
large pieces of planking from a fence were spiralling
towards them. He swung Mulder to the ground, throwing
himself down on top of the other man, reaching out a
hand as he fell to grab Scully's knee, so that she
toppled down with them. He placed his own large body
over theirs, feeling Mulder gasp and squirm beneath him,
feeling Scully go limp, too winded to move. He covered
Scully's head with his left arm just as he heard a huge
crash which was immediately followed by a savage,
shuddering pain that swept down the left-hand side of
his body as something hit him.

Suddenly the air was still again for a moment. He looked
up, watching as the wooden planking span off across the
yard, away from them. Mulder was getting to his feet,
running towards the building and Skinner pulled Scully
up and practically threw her in the same direction. He
saw her turn, cry out and he turned as well. The car,
where until 2 minutes ago Mulder had been sitting,
was now being lifted into the air and was twirling
around in the sky like a ballerina showing off her
steps.

For an eerie second the wind dropped and the car was
hurled back down to the ground, spitting out its
contents as it went. Then the gale returned and he saw
his briefcase, his papers, snatched up and emptied out
across the sky. As he turned back he was in time to
glimpse Mulder's look of absolute horror before the
agent resumed his course, struggling up onto the porch
and into the house. Hailstones whipped down on top of
Skinner, driving into his cheeks, cutting him and he
stumbled into the house after the two agents feeling
giddy and battered.

At last there was a respite from the wind and
hail. The house was deserted. Wise people, Skinner
thought to himself. They must have heard the bad weather
warning, realised it was heading straight for them and
taken shelter elsewhere. The table was set for dinner, a
loaf of bread abandoned on it and a single candle
burning in the center. Skinner wondered at that. How
could it keep burning in the midst of this maelstrom? he
wondered, "like a good deed in a naughty world." Where
was that from? Portia, Merchant of Venice...At least he
thought it was. Stupid thing to think about at a time
like this.
"Basement." Scully was saying, leading the way while the
shaken Mulder trailed along behind like a
pathetic puppy. He chased after them, feeling oddly
tired and drained, wondering from a distance why
his left hand and arm felt so numb, as if they didn't
belong to him. Scully located the basement and led
the way down the steps. Skinner brought up the rear,
closing the door behind them, locking it. They
went down some more steps and found themselves in a mess
of boxes and cases and abandoned household goods. At
least it was quieter down here. You could hear yourself
think and breathe...breathing too fast, too heavily.

Skinner watched as Scully launched herself at Mulder,
hugging him, taking him over to some dusty chairs,
stacked on top of one another, pulling one down and
sitting Mulder on it, smoothing his hair from his eyes.
"Mulder? Are you alright?"
"I.." Mulder stared at her. "I think I lost it back
there."
"It doesn't matter. You're safe now." Scully smiled at
her partner tenderly. Skinner envied them their
closeness again. There hadn't been hardly any female
agents in his day. It must be nice to work with someone
as solicitous, clever and just plain attractive as
Scully. He wondered wryly how Mulder ever got any work
done sitting near this woman all day. He walked the last
step down and felt his leg buckle underneath him. Scully
turned at the sound.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"I'm fine." He turned away from her, wishing that he was
back in the field with a partner who genuinely
cared about his welfare, not a grudging subordinate who
was asking to be polite. "I have no idea how
safe this place is but it has to be better than the
car."
"Yeah. The car." Mulder winced, exchanging a glance with
him. Skinner's expression didn't change. So
Mulder had a fear of tornadoes? So what? Everybody in
their right mind was scared of tornadoes. If
Mulder's fear was more of a phobia, what did it matter?
Skinner limped his way across the room and found a tiny,
cracked window. He cleaned away a patch of dirt and
grime and looked out. The sky was still ominously
yellow, the storm hadn't abated any.
"We might as well make ourselves at home," Skinner
murmured. "This could be a long night." He glanced at
his watch and winced. His left hand was badly cut and
starting to swell. There was a huge lump on his wrist
and one of his fingers was obviously broken. How hadn't
he noticed that before? It was also 10pm. It should be
dark out but it wasn't. The sky still glowed a dirty
yellow color, casting unnatural, scowling shadows in the
air. They weren't safe yet. They weren't anything like
safe. This one looked as if it would go on for some
time. Best not tell Mulder that though.
"There's nothing we can do for now," Skinner murmured to
them. "So we might as well accept we're
here for the night. Try and get some sleep."
Scully nodded. Mulder swallowed.
"You don't think it'll pass soon?" He asked, his pupils
starting to dilate again.
"I have no idea. I'm not a weather expert." Skinner
shrugged and felt a wave of nausea pass through
him. "Let's just get some rest shall we? We won't be
going anywhere even if the weather does improve.
Not with the car in little bits all over the place.
That's if it hasn't gone for another journey into outer
space." He tried to smile at Mulder but Mulder just
stared at him, his face frozen with fear. Scully stepped
in.
"It's alright, Mulder. Don't think about it. We'll be
safe down here," she murmured, none too accurately,
Skinner thought to himself. They probably wouldn't be
safe if the tornado came right at them but it might
not. It might veer away, attack some other part of the
country or burn itself out. Skinner sat himself down on
the floor, his back against some boxes. He watched
through half-lidded eyes as Scully sat down next to
Mulder and took her partner's hand in her own.

Simon Alexander. 10 years younger than him, straight out
of Quantico. And he'd tried to be to Alexander as Shark
had been to him. A wiser, older person, someone who'd
watch out for the younger man, show him the ropes. And
he'd failed. Alexander was too passionate, too driven.
Took himself off on his own, ignored all Skinner's
advice.
"You do things your way, I'll do them mine, Walt!"
"You mean you think I'm too by-the-book, too concerned
with the due process, etc, etc.and you're the maverick,
go-getter?" He glanced at his partner, knowing all too
well the image Alexander had of himself. An image he was
sure would get his partner killed. Stupid to be killed
for an image.
"No, no, no, Walt. Well, okay, yes. Although of course,
I know your secret." Alexander tapped the side of his
nose. "I bet not many out there do, do they, Walt?"
"My secret?" He asked with a weary smile.
"You only break the big rules, Walt. That's your secret.
I've seen you. Everyone thinks you're so straight. You
always file every little detail, no stone unturned, look
into every nook and cranny and never ever bend the
rules...except I know you do. Not the little rules, but
the big ones. The really big ones. I've seen you do it.
That time you bailed me out of the Markham case and the
not so tiny matter of the missing gun a few months ago.
You think I didn't notice these things? And the really
cunning thing is that because of your reputation nobody
expects it of you do they? So you get away with it.
Sneaky bastard! It's a good strategy, Walt. Very good."
Alexander smiled that irritating lop-sided grin. He had
thick blond hair and wide blue eyes. Girls thought
he was cute, men thought he was gay but he wasn't.
Skinner had never known a man have more conquests than
Alexander; he was a real babe magnet. Skinner would turn
his back for a second and when he looked round again
he'd find Alexander smiling at some beautiful woman
who'd materialised out of nowhere. He envied his partner
his easy charm, his way of knowing how to talk to
people. He had never found it that easy.
"You just smile." Alexander told him. "And you chat.
Just chat. Simple, Walt! You need to loosen up."
"No, I don't. I have a wife, Simon. I don't need added
complications thank you!" he had grinned.
"Ah the divine Sharon. How is life in wedded bliss
land?" Alexander asked him. Skinner smiled. Life in
wedded bliss land was very nice indeed. Life was nice.
He had a good, if irresponsible partner, a beautiful
wife, a job he loved. Sure there were ghosts that
sometimes haunted him, nights when he woke up sweating
in terror at the things he had witnessed, friends' names
that came unbidden to his mind when he least expected
it. Friends he had last seen from above, his
consciousness floating outside his body as he looked
down on their bloody corpses, on his own bloody corpse.
Yet all the same...life was good. For a while, life had
been good.

"Sir?"
"Huh..?" He woke up to find himself looking into
Scully's concerned blue eyes.
"You were talking in your sleep," she told him. "And
groaning. I think you may be hurt. Will you let me
look?"
He shrugged himself back into the here and now.
"I'm fine," he told her brusquely. She hesitated, looked
back at Mulder for support. Mulder got up, stretching
his long, lean body.
"She's a doctor, sir. You might as well agree to it. She
doesn't usually take no for an answer." Mulder
grinned at him but it wasn't a real smile. It was a
pained, distracted smile. A man trying to convince
himself that he was okay and not trapped in a basement
by a raging storm.
"Really, Scully. I'm..." He yelped as her fingers found
his left hand.
"Fine?" She finished for him, raising a quizzical
eyebrow. "With a broken finger and possibly a fractured
arm?"
"What?" He frowned crossly, looking down at his arm.
"It's started to swell. We have to get this off." She
gestured to his wedding ring.
"No!" He said, too hoarsely, too loudly. Scully
exchanged another glance with Mulder.
"You don't understand, sir. If your hand swells up any
more the ring could cut off the circulation. That
could be dangerous. Please." She slipped her fingers
down to the ring, tried to tug it. His hand had
already swollen and he could feel the metal digging into
his skin.
"No. I don't want..."
"You must," she told him firmly. He opened his mouth to
protest, caught Mulder's eye and closed it again.
"When the doctor speaks, there's nothing you can do."
Mulder told him wryly. "I should know."
"Help me." Scully told Mulder. The agent knelt down
beside Skinner and held his hand still while Scully
tugged on the ring.
Skinner lay back, feeling as if his heart was being
ripped out. He wanted to scream, not from the pain in
his hand but the one inside him, deep inside.
"There." Scully handed the ring to him and he took it
numbly.
"You don't understand," he told her savagely. "You don't
understand anything." She was shocked by his tone, got
up, moved away, exchanging another glance with Mulder,
the pair of them backing off. He closed his eyes again,
feeling the sweat pouring down his face, clenching his
good hand tight around the ring, trying to ward off the
tears.
"What don't we understand, sir?" Mulder asked softly.
Trust Mulder to dare to ask questions like that.
Trust him not to let anything drop if his curiosity was
roused.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter, Mulder. It isn't
important." He opened his hand, stared at the ring.
Mulder edged back, crouching beside him again. He
examined the ring, read the inscription.
"That's cute. Romantic." Mulder smiled. "You never used
to wear it, until..."
"No." He wished he could breathe more easily and he
wished that he didn't hurt.
"We never knew you were married."
"It wasn't a secret." He shrugged.
"No. But you didn't wear a ring, never mentioned a
wife."
"I don't recall you ever talking about your love life
either." Skinner murmured, feeling hot and sticky and
uncomfortable.
"I don't have one." Mulder smiled. "And then when you
were shot - your wife didn't come to the
hospital. How were we to know you had a wife?" He
glanced at Scully who also looked faintly curious.
"We had only just separated. I couldn't ask...or
expect...she wanted space, not emotional blackmail
from an injured man. I never even told her I'd been
shot." Skinner shrugged, wondering why he was
telling Mulder this. Or Scully for that matter.
"You're hurt more badly than you're letting on." Mulder
leaned over him, moved him gently into the light
of the grimy window. Scully gasped.
"Why didn't you say!" she exclaimed, coming over to him.
He saw the dried red blood on his trousers,
felt Scully's fingers against the bruised lump on his
head.
"There was no point," he murmured. "You can't do
anything until the storm's passed. So we just have to
sit and wait and accept. I'll be fine. I've had worse."
Again that image, blood pouring out of a hundred
different wounds as he lay on the ground, left for dead.

"Sir!" Mulder's hand slapping his face lightly. "You
passed out."
"Where's Scully?" he asked.
"Gone upstairs to fetch some water."
"She shouldn't. It could be dangerous. It could..."
"She'll be back soon." Mulder said. "Just lay still. And
here - you should put this in a pocket. It rolled
out when you fell unconscious." He handed Skinner back
his wedding ring.
"I haven't liked to take it off since," Skinner told
him. "It doesn't matter. I might as well chuck it away.
I was being stupid. I mean I hate jewelry, always have
done. I wouldn't wear it when she was alive so what's
the point of it now she's dead?"
Mulder stared at him, uncomprehending.
"I didn't know she was...dead I mean."
"Didn't you?" Skinner closed his eyes.
"When?" Mulder asked. He didn't reply and heard Mulder's
sharp intake of breath. "You wouldn't talk to us about
it. After that business...you wouldn't talk. I asked you
how you knew where to find us and you wouldn't say."
"No. She told me. Sharon, the old woman, I don't know
which. She told me just before she died. They
said..that she didn't regain consciousness, but she did.
She told me."
"And you came back to work?" Mulder asked incredulously.
"You came straight back to work as if nothing had
happened?"
Skinner opened his eyes, saw how shocked Mulder looked.
"We all have our own way of dealing with things,
Mulder," he murmured.
"Oh right, yeah. And yours is the sweeping them under
the carpet and pretending they didn't happen
method, yes?" Mulder queried.
"What's to say? I didn't want sympathy." Skinner was
feeling distinctly light-headed.
"No, but still." Mulder shrugged.
"Like I said, what good would it do?" Skinner asked the
other man savagely. They glared at each other for a
moment, then Mulder just shook his head.
"I don't understand you," he murmured.
"Feeling's mutual." Skinner grunted.
Scully returned and Skinner breathed a sigh of relief
that she was safe.
"How is it out there?" He asked.
"Still bad." Next to him he could feel Mulder stiffen.
Scully crouched down and handed him a bottle of
water. She passed some bread to Mulder and then pressed
some into Skinner's good hand. He chewed dutifully, not
feeling hungry.

Of course he hadn't told Mulder. Why should he? He knew
what Mulder was like apart from anything else, all the
burdens of guilt he took on himself. And Skinner felt as
if his life was becoming just one more tragedy in the
wake of Mulder's quest for the truth. A couple of
beatings, a bullet to the stomach, a serious attempt to
discredit him at the Bureau, set him up, lose him his
job and the death of his wife. Because of Mulder and
Scully. Being in thrall to an enemy he despised. Because
of Mulder and Scully. Agreeing to participate in a
cover-up operation he had found personally abhorrent.
Because of Mulder and Scully. Starting to doubt his own
integrity, the integrity of his superiors, his
government and his country. Because of Mulder and
Scully.
"Because of what, sir?" Mulder asked, leaning forward.
"Nothing."
He watched as Scully got up, awkwardly, crossed the
room, limping.
"You're hurt too, Scully," he said.
"It's nothing. Just a sprain." She smiled. "When you
saved our lives out there, I fell awkwardly."
"Sorry." He remembered grabbing her knee, toppling her
over.
"Really, no need. That fence crashed right into where I
had been standing. You really did save my life."
"And mine." Mulder grinned. "We should probably say
thanks or something," he added grudgingly.
"Oh don't bother." Skinner waved his good hand tiredly.
"I should have let you both die," he murmured.
"What?" Only Mulder had been close enough to catch that.
"Yeah...let you die. Get my life back." He closed his
eyes again.

I've lost too much, he thought. Become used to it. First
his unit in Vietnam, all wiped out in that ambush
except him. Why was he alive? Why? Had he been of use
somehow? Fulfilled a destiny? Had his only reason for
living been that he was brought here, to this basement,
on this night with these people? Would he die here, 30
years after he should have died? What had he done in
those 30 years? Did he just exist so that Fox Mulder got
to keep the X Files, to have someone looking out for
him, protecting him, pulling god knew how many strings
to keep him from being expelled from the Bureau, or
assigned elsewhere?
"You should have been tougher on Mulder." Shark told
him.
"I know," he murmured.
"Protecting his ass at the expense of your own. When has
the little shit ever done that for you?"
"He once...he did. Twice."
"First time - that business with the call girl right?
Well his ass wasn't on the line then. Second time was
covering up that gun thing for you. Well that was as
much about Agent Scully as it was about you."
"Scully."
"She's nice. No offense, Walter, but I wish she'd been
my partner instead of you! A man could get used
to working with such a lady!"
"Hands off, Shark."
"Hey, you know me, I'm no lady's man. Not like that
other guy...Alexander. Now he was a prize jackass if I
ever saw one. Don't think I don't know why you let
Mulder get away with all this crap, Walter but he isn't
Alexander. Not even close."
"If I had protected Simon, he'd still be here."
"Some people you can't protect from themselves. Like
Alexander, like Mulder. They'll just go ahead
and kill themselves anyway. Nobody can save 'em. Serious
death-wish folk. You're not like that, Walter. You don't
want to die."
"No."
"Someone's looking out for you anyway."
"You?"
"Me? No. I'm just a fevered dream, son! A symptom of
your delirium. Someone else is looking out for
you. You know that. Charmed life you've led, boy! Always
getting shot at and never actually laying down and
dying. Just never quite ready are you? Shame. There's a
lot of folk up here would like to see you again. All
your friends from Vietnam, your mom and dad, Simon,
Sharon, Great Uncle Casper."
"I don't have a Great Uncle Casper!"
"Me neither." Mulder was grinning at him. "What on earth
were you dreaming about, sir?"
"Nothing." He closed his eyes again.
"I'm worried about him." Scully's voice sounded very
distant. "He keeps lapsing in and out of
consciousness. If only we had some painkillers. Or
something to bring down his temperature. He's
burning up, Mulder." He felt a cool hand against his
head.
"He'll be okay. He's strong. I thought I'd been hit by a
goddamn tree when he threw himself on top of us
out there."
"Mulder he's getting weaker and he's hallucinating.
I...I think I'm going to go back to the car. See if I
can find my medical bag."
"What? Scully you can't!"
"No. You can't, Scully." He managed to force open his
eyes. "I absolutely forbid it. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir." She gave him a rebellious look, sat down
beside him, holding her foot out in front of her body
awkwardly. "But you've been hurt pretty bad, sir. And
you're in shock. Can you stay awake? I don't
like the way you keep slipping in and out of
consciousness."
"Oh, you don't care, Scully," he muttered, his eyes
closing again. "It doesn't matter."

The time had long since passed when it mattered, since
he mattered to anyone. Like Shark said, everyone he'd
loved was dead. Why did he bother hanging on down here
with people he'd risked his life for, ruined his life
for, but who didn't even like him? Why bother?
"Feeling sorry for yourself, Walt?"
"God no, Shark. Hate whiners."
"Oh you've never been that. So you thinking of giving it
all up, Walt? Coming to join us?"
"It does seem appealing. Nothing left to stay here for
really. Maybe it is time to move on."
"You want it to end here, in a basement? Killed by a
goddamn storm? Not really your style, Walt!"
"Who cares? I'm tired. They don't trust me you know."
"I know."
"They never have."
"No. I guess not."
"After everything that's happened."
"Be fair, Walt, you don't exactly explain yourself real
well. They probably don't know half the ways
you've helped 'em."
"The benefit of the doubt. I don't even get that." He
could feel himself leaving his body, floating gently
up into the air. Suddenly he was free! And there was no
pain. This was good. It felt good. He looked
down on one red head and one dark brown one, listening.

"What's he talking about, Scully?"
"I'm not sure. Us?"
"Maybe. Maybe he's right. Maybe we don't give him the
benefit of the doubt. We didn't over that Kritschgau
thing."
"You're blaming me, aren't you, Mulder? I suggested that
Skinner was our enemy."
"No, I'm not blaming you. I'm just trying to see things
from his point of view. His wife died you know
and that happened because they wanted to get rid of him,
to set him up. And that happened..."
"Because of us. Yes. I didn't realise she had died. What
a shame. I rather liked her. Oh, Mulder you're
not going to start blaming yourself are you?"
"I don't know, Scully. I mean, jeez, his wife dies and
he doesn't even MENTION it. It's weird. And
directly or indirectly, it is my fault."
"Well if it comes to that I could blame myself over him
getting shot. He took that bullet for me, for my
family, for Melissa."
"We're a liability." Mulder put his head back and for a
second Skinner saw straight into the other man's
eyes. They were full of a sad kind of guilt and he found
himself wanting to shake Mulder, absolve him. Only he
wasn't in his body and he couldn't do a thing, just
watch.
"It's his job." Scully murmured, glancing over to
Skinner's silent body.
"No it isn't, Scully. His job was closing down the X
Files, reassigning us and getting on with his career.
We screwed that up for him because he has a conscience
and wouldn't play ball with the guys who call
the shots. Everything else stems from there."
"Maybe you're right but what can we do about it?" Scully
sounded troubled.
"I know what I can damn well do about it, Scully."
Mulder said softly. "I'm going outside to see if I can
find your medical bag."
"Mulder you can't!" Scully tugged on her partner's arm.
"I can and I will." Mulder turned to face her, gripping
her shoulders and looking urgently into her eyes.
"Look, Scully, you can't go because of your ankle and
anyway - didn't he give you a direct order not
to? You don't break direct orders."
"Unlike you," she whispered. "Please hurry back, Mulder.
Don't freeze on us out there will you?" She looked
searchingly into his eyes.
"No. I won't freeze. Now you take care of him. He's been
a good friend to us, Scully. We don't want to
lose him." And so saying Mulder turned on his heel and
ran up the basement steps.
Skinner watched, curious, found himself floating back
down.

"Wake up! You must wake up!" Hands on his shoulders,
tugging.
"I am awake." Pain flooded through his body as he opened
his eyes. He didn't want this pain. Hadn't he
chosen to leave it behind? He shifted his head to look
at her. She was leaning over him. "Where's
Mulder?" he asked, wondering if he had been dreaming or
not.
"He's here," she hesitated.
"Where is he Scully?" He asked her quietly.
"He went outside. To see what he could find in the car.
If there is a car."
"I told you..." he began, angrily, scared that his dream
seemed to have been real, scared for Mulder.
"Yes, but you didn't tell him." Scully smiled sitting
down beside him.
"Semantics, Scully."
"Good. Keep talking. I don't care what you say, just
stay awake." She was warm, nestling next to him,
her shoulder against his right arm.
"Mulder's scared of tornadoes. Phobic. He shouldn't have
gone out," he murmured.
"I know." Scully shrugged. "But I couldn't stop him. He
thought you were going to die. He felt like he
had to do something. If he hadn't gone I would have,
despite what you said, despite my ankle. Now
talk. Come on." She nudged his arm as he felt his
eyelids beginning to droop.
"Hmm? Oh. Right. Simon Alexander."
"What?"
"Alexander. I'll tell you about him. You'd have liked
him, women tended to. He was my partner. One
day he..." Skinner shifted, felt the room go black, then
his vision cleared. Scully nudged him again.
"Yeah, he...was investigating something personal.
Something he shouldn't have been. Too close to it
you see. I knew that but I covered for him when I should
have reported him. I knew how important it was to him.
But I should have betrayed him, Scully. If I had he'd
still be alive." He felt her stiffen against
his arm.
"What happened to him?" Her eyes looked like two
sapphires in the darkness.
"I should have been watching him. I WAS watching him but
he was tired, we both were. I told him to go home, get a
good night's sleep. He assured me that he would, but he
didn't. Slunk off, left me a note. Next thing I knew."
Skinner paused. He could hear the sound of the storm
raging outside but he didn't want to think about that
because he didn't want to think about Mulder being out
there and from the look in Scully's eyes he knew that
she didn't want to think about that either.
"Go on." Scully said softly.
"Soon as I found the note I took off after him but I was
too late. Next thing I knew, I was holding his
body. Blood all soaked into his hair. Caked with it,
crusted into his scalp and down his face. I blamed
myself."
"You shouldn't have done." Scully told him earnestly.
"It was his responsibility. His own actions. It
wasn't your fault."
"No. It wasn't." Skinner turned and stared down at her
in the eerie yellow gloom. "It wasn't my fault,
Scully. I did my best just like you do, but there are
some people who just have to do things their own
way, even if it ends up getting them killed." Scully
looked up at him, holding her breath.
"You know. You understand," she whispered.
"Oh yes, I understand. I've been there," he told her. "I
see myself in you all the time. Taking care of him,
trying to stop him getting himself killed. But you can
only do so much."
"Yes."
"Once..." Skinner paused. This was hard. "You remember
the bastard who killed the little girls? The
one who cut little fabric hearts from their dresses?"
"Roche? Yes, I remember." Scully nodded.
"Well...I blamed you for Mulder's actions then. I've
regretted that ever since. I was angry, because you
couldn't stop him, the way I couldn't stop Simon. Only
Mulder is responsible for his actions. Only
Simon was responsible for his. Am I talking enough or
did I stop making sense some time back?"
"You're doing fine." He was surprised to feel her hand
slip into his, her fingers small and warm against
his skin. "Hold on, sir. Please hold on," she whispered.
He closed his eyes.
"Still haven't joined us then?" Shark asked him.
"Not quite yet. No." He smiled. "Why don't you just hang
around until I decide?"

"Mulder!" Scully got up, limped across the room as
Mulder appeared in the doorway.
"I'm fine! I found your bag, Scully. I beat the storm!"
Mulder seemed positively euphoric. "How is he?"
he asked in an undertone.
"I'm fine." Skinner growled, wishing that people would
stop asking about his health.
"We'll soon see." Scully told him firmly. "Go get me
some water and a towel and any blankets you can
find, Mulder."
"You want me to go back up there?" Her partner asked her
incredulously.
"Only into the house. Go on."
Mulder sighed dramatically, raised his eyes heavenward
and then disappeared again. Scully advanced
towards Skinner holding her medical bag.
"I'm going to examine you," she told him briskly.
"Is there any point to me protesting?" He asked.
"None whatsoever," she replied firmly. "So you might as
well save your breath."
She came back over, undid his tie, started unbuttoning
his shirt.
"I can do that," he whispered, feeling uneasy at the
intimacy of the gesture.
"Can you?" She grinned. "Oh go ahead then, be my guest."
He put his hands up to his buttons, tried to move his
fingers, cursed.
"Hurts huh?" Scully smiled at him. "It's easier if I do
it, sir. God, you're an awful patient."
"Yeah. That's been said before." He smiled back,
admitting defeat.

Mulder returned noisily, clattering down the stairs
clutching a bowl of water, a pile of towels and
blankets stuffed under one arm. He set the bowl down,
splashing some of the contents over Scully as he
did so.
"Mulder!" she chided.
"Sorry!" He grinned, looking more relaxed than he had
all evening. "Anything I can do?"
"Yes. Go and break up one of those chairs," she told
him.
"For firewood?" He queried, his head on one side.
"For a splint," she replied. All three sets of eyes
seemed to meet and ponder this.
"I don't like the sound of this," Skinner murmured.
"No. I didn't think you would. Now let's see." She
finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulled it from his
shoulders and frowned, her eyes narrowing. She put two
deft, gentle fingers against the left side of his
chest and he gasped. "Broken ribs," she informed him.
"Two of them I think, maybe three and badly
bruised. Nothing much I can do about them right now."
Her fingers were now on his arm and he bit
down on his lip to stop himself crying out loud. "It's
definitely broken but not badly," she told him. "I can
set it. I think I should. If we leave it you could get
some problems later on."
"Will there be a later on?" He enquired.
"Oh yes." She smiled. "I don't approve of patients dying
on me."
"Oh I wouldn't be so inconsiderate," he murmured.
Mulder returned, clutching a few pieces of wood that he
showed to Scully. She selected one and glanced up at
Mulder.
"We're going to set it," she told him. Mulder looked
questioningly at Skinner who thought about it for a
moment and then nodded. "Actually it wasn't a choice."
Scully informed him. Mulder snorted and exchanged a wry
glance with Skinner.
"I told you what she's like when she's in doctor mode,"
he informed his boss.
"Despite the warning, one is unprepared for the
reality." Skinner murmured. "Alright." He lay back,
feeling apprehensive. "Go ahead."
"Mulder, I want you to hold him down." Scully whispered
softly. Hold him down? Where did they think he was going
for heaven's sake?
"Okay." Mulder shrugged cheerfully and Skinner could
have thumped him. "Sorry, sir. Doctor's orders."
Mulder loomed over him, put two strong hands on each
shoulder and leaned against him. "On the count
of 3, Scully?" Mulder queried, looking at her and
winking.
"Three." Scully nodded, her fingers closing around his
arm, twisting slightly to get purchase. He started
breathing deeply, staring straight ahead.
"One, two,"
He heard an awful crunching sound and a scream that
seemed to emanate from the depths of his lungs.
"Three." Mulder finished, grinning at him, his eyes
betraying a frantic horror at the pain he had just
helped to inflict.
"That was two!" Skinner rasped. "You said on three!"
"I'm a dreadful liar." Mulder told him, letting him go.
"Can't stop myself. Scully's just as bad. You should
never trust a word we say." He sat down beside Skinner,
watching as Scully laid the splint against the
other man's arm, starting wrapping a bandage around it.
"I'll remember that." Skinner murmured.
Mulder poured some water into a cup, held it against
Skinner's lips and he drank greedily.
"Cold." He shivered.
"Shock." Scully said. She got a blanket and threw it
over him. "Hold him forward, Mulder." Scully said.
"I want to see if he's got any other injuries." Mulder
put an arm around Skinner's shoulders, pulled him
forward.
"I could have managed that much." Skinner told them
irritably.
"You reckon?" Mulder let go and Skinner found himself
falling backwards. Mulder caught him before he
hit the wall, holding him steady. "Sorry. Couldn't
resist. Stop being so damn self-reliant and just let
Scully take care of you will you?" Mulder scolded.
Skinner didn't have the energy to reply. He opened
his mouth when Scully told him to, swallowed the pills
she put on his tongue, washed them down with
water from the cup Mulder was holding to his lips.
"You'll be okay." Mulder told him companionably, his arm
still around Skinner's shoulders, a cushion for
his head, "we'll look after you."

"You still here, Walt?"
"Yes, Shark."
"They're just taking care of someone who's sick. They'd
do that for anyone. Doesn't prove anything,
Walt."
"No, Shark."
"You're soft, Walter. Always said it."
"Killer rabbit?"
"Killer rabbit, sir? Where?" Hazel eyes, laughing at
him.
"Nowhere." Nice to feel that arm around his neck though.
Scully was doing something with water and
his leg but he didn't want to think about that right
now.

"You don't like them much, do you, Shark?"
"Not strictly true, Walt. The lady's alright! No, only
kidding. They're okay. Not really worthy of you,
but then neither was Alexander. They're never exactly
going to be proper buddies though, are they? Your
position makes that hard."
"I can still look out for them."
"If you want to, Walter. "
"It was nice seeing you again, Shark."
"You too, Walt."

"So who's Shark?" Mulder asked, nudging him. "Scully
wants me to keep you awake," he whispered
apologetically. "Otherwise I promise I wouldn't make
idle conversation."
"Yeah...Shark was my first partner, when I joined the
FBI."
"That was years and years ago, right?" Mulder asked.
"I'm injured, Mulder, not brain dead. I don't care to be
teased." Skinner told him. Mulder grinned.
"Twenty years," Skinner murmured, relenting. "Give or
take."
"You did well in 20 years." Mulder glanced at Scully who
nodded. "Right to the top."
"You won't get to the top. Upset too many people,"
Skinner murmured.
"Yeah, I know. I'm still grieving for my lost career."
Mulder smiled, softly. "Who cares?" He muttered.
"I never thought I'd live this long, let alone go places
professionally. It wasn't what I joined the FBI for."
Scully finished with his leg and washed her hands.
Skinner wished the water in the bowl hadn't turned
quite such a deep shade of red. Scully wiped her hands
and sat down beside Skinner, on the other side
of him.
"All done," she said.
"Thank god," he breathed. "Could I go to sleep now?"
"Not yet." Scully smiled. "Come on. Talk some more."
"Nothing left to say." His head lolled against Mulder's
shoulder. He felt Scully's hand creep under the
blanket and clasp his, squeezing gently.
"Tell us about Shark." Mulder suggested.
"Shark was a good man. Taught me a lot."
"And how does that tie in with the killer rabbit?"
Mulder enquired.
"That's what he called me once." Skinner grinned in the
darkness.
"Really?" Mulder's eyes were quizzical and amused as he
turned to face his boss.
"Yes. You're taking advantage of me now, keeping me
talking when I'm delirious. I could end up saying
something I'll regret."
"Oh you already did." Mulder laughed.
"Tell us some more." Scully squeezed his hand again. "Go
on. About Shark or Simon."
"Simon?" Mulder queried.
"My second partner." Skinner sighed, wishing the
memories weren't so painful. "Too many ghosts," he
muttered. "All gone. All dead."
"Yes." Mulder's eyes looked so infinitely sad that
Skinner wished he could comfort the other man, but
he couldn't even move. "Sometimes I look around and it
just seems like everyone's died."
"Yes." Scully nodded. "And I'm sick of burying people so
we've all got to stay alive," she told them
firmly, looking meaningfully at Skinner.
"I'm doing my best," he said, his head lolling again.
"Oh no." Mulder tapped his shoulder. "That's not your
best, sir. You have to do better. Tell us more
about Simon."
"He wouldn't tell me where he was going. Did that a lot,
just got an idea into his head and took off."
Skinner noticed how Mulder's eyes met Scully's,
guiltily. "And he was a good agent. Inspired. The best
I ever saw until...until." He glanced at Mulder,
shrugged, then felt a wave of sickness pass through
him. "Anyway, he had integrity. That's hard to find.
Something to value."
"Yes. Definitely." Scully rubbed her thumb gently
against the palm of his hand.

A sound woke him. No, the absence of sound. The storm
had abated, the tornado had passed them by and they were
still alive. At least if the pain in his body was
anything to go by, they were still alive. And
they must have fallen asleep despite Scully's best
efforts. Skinner was aware of Mulder's head leaning
against his shoulder, of Scully's head nestling under
his chin, her hand still loosely lying in his own. A
curious sense of peace swept through him.
"I'll be off then." Shark said. "Seeing as how you've
rejected our invitation to let you join us, yet again."
"Another time, Shark! Another time."

"Sir?" He struggled to open his eyes. "Dawn." Mulder
smiled at him. Daylight flooded through the
basement. "I've phoned for help but the emergency
services are in chaos. However, guess what?"
"What?" He blinked at Mulder.
"Truck in the barn!" Mulder smirked, holding up a key.
"Gas in it and ready to go. Come on, let's get
you out of here, sir."
Mulder crouched down, put his arms around him and pulled
him up. Skinner winced and tried to keep from crying
out. Scully went on ahead, holding the doors open as
Mulder helped him out, his good arm wrapped around
Mulder's shoulder, leaning on him heavily.
"Look." Skinner stared at the candle on the table, still
lit but very nearly burned down to nothing. "I
don't believe it, after all that wind."
"Can't have reached in here." Mulder shrugged, trying to
get Skinner moving again. Skinner clung to him, trying
to get his breath back.
"There's a line from Shakespeare. I remembered it last
night. Something about a candle shining like a
good deed in a bad world."
"Yeah, well, it sure is a bad world," Mulder told him.
"And not many good deeds."
"No." They shuffled on. Mulder looked back.
"But some," Mulder added. "And maybe the really good
deeds go unnoticed. Like this stupid candle. Burning all
night for nobody."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Skinner shivered.

Scully brought the truck up and Mulder manoeuvred
Skinner into the seat, getting in beside him.
"Hospital I think, Scully," Mulder announced cheerfully.
He glanced around at the bright blue sky, the sun
soaking them with its warmth. "Storm's over and we're
all still alive!" He grinned. "Amazing! It was a
close thing wasn't it?"
"Closer than you think." Skinner said.

THE END