When Skinner Met Frohike (1/5)
Deirdre (deirdre@x-philes.com)

Hi, everyone ...

This story began as a dare from another author, way back last
summer.  It's a little bizarre, mixing some extremely tongue-in-
cheek sections with some very serious sections, but I hope you'll
like it nevertheless.

Many thanks to Euphrosyne, (whom I hope still lurks around here),
the person who made me pull this story slightly closer to reality. 
And to Shalimar, who did the final editing the story so desperately
needed. Yeah, it's taken a long time, but it's finished! 

Archive Info:  T A
Keywords:  Skinnerangst, Frohike-angst (is there such a thing? <g>)
Rated PG-13 for language.

Summery:  When Mulder and Scully vanish on an off-the-record
investigation, Skinner and Frohike join forces to try to find them. 

*****

June 17
3:48 pm

Walter Skinner stormed into the abandoned X-files office, then
halted, shocked into stillness by the absolute *mess*.  How in hell
was he supposed to find anything in this place?

Gingerly, he picked his way over to the desk - actually to the paper-
coated lump he *thought*  was the desk - and rubbed his hand across 
his head in dismay.  There was no way he was going to find anything 
in the disorganized clutter of papers that covered every inch of its 
wooden surface without rhyme or reason.  If Mulder were here, 
perhaps he could explain it; that damn desk had to qualify as an 
X-file in and of itself.  Perhaps the ghosts of former FBI secretaries 
were to blame ... 

But *that* was the problem:  Mulder *wasn't* here.  And Walter
hadn't a clue how to find him.  Or Scully for that matter.  And his
superiors were getting rather antsy.

Collapsing into the creaking chair, aimlessly pushing around the
piles of papers, he considered the situation he had ended up in the
middle of this time.  Last Tuesday, without any warning, both
Mulder and Scully had declared that they were taking their long
overdue vacation time and vanished.  At first that hadn't disturbed
him, since he had no cases for them to investigate, and since their
vacation bore no resemblance to any of Mulder's unauthorized
investigations.  Usually, he wasn't stupid enough to haul Scully
along on those.  In fact, he'd assigned a totally different purpose to
their dual disappearance and only hoped that they both had the
wisdom to keep it quiet.

*THEN* the cigarette-smoking bastard suddenly appeared in his
office, demanding their location.  And the whole week took on a
sinister shadow with the realization that his two agents had again
gotten themselves into deeper shit than was healthy.

Why hadn't the goddamn fools trusted him?  He'd tried to prove his
support over the past year, tried to show those two lonely, paranoid
agents that they had an unexpected and somewhat powerful ally. 
Sure, he couldn't do much, 'specially with the bastards hanging over
his head, but he could do *something*, since he had a different
insight into their enemies than they did.
  
He could have been an early-warning system or something, alerting
them when they went off on one of these crazy quests and were
beginning to get in over their heads.  Or protecting them, as he was
*trying* to do now ... *trying* ... now they were out pursing a
completely unauthorized investigation, without any of the resources
of the bureau to back them up.  

When they cloaked personal pursuits in the costume of a case,
although officially he got pissed, personally he was always relieved
that the two hadn't cut themselves off from the bureau's aid.  But
now ... now they could vanish into nowhere, two more sacrificed to
whatever that bastard did, all because they didn't trust *anyone*
enough to tell them where they were headed.

And since they could vanish while not officially on bureau business,
no one would connect their disappearance to 'Cancer Man'.

But the fucking office wasn't about to yield up any of their secrets. 
Christ, the mess was better than an alarm system - at least one of
those wouldn't plunge you into the chaos of Mulder's mind. Walter
thoughtlessly swung his fist across the desk in frustration and
watched in horror as the papers filled the air around him, floating
upon the air currents from the air conditioning.

Well, if Mulder had had a discernable although chaotic
organizational system, he'd ruined it now.  Leaning back in the
chair, defeated, he watched the papers settle to the floor and
realized there was *nothing* that he could do now.  

Except pray the two didn't come home in body-bags.

As the last of the papers gently floated to the floor - some coasting
right out the door - he cast his eyes over the few scattered remains
that stuck to the desk, realizing by the dates on some of the forms
that the things were four to five *years* old.  Never-turned-in
expense reports, a missing case file; wondering at the mind of a
packrat, he allowed himself to rifle through the papers.

And at the bottom, having almost exposed the surface of the desk
to the light for the first time in years probably, he came across a
scrap of paper with a hurriedly scribbled note in Scully's neat
handwriting, perhaps a reminder of some sort.  Squinting past the
coffee stain he read:

LG - 2423 Springer Rd.
555-4538 (F.)

Well, a several-year-old paper was better than nothing.  And since it
was the only thing of Scully's on the desk, he trusted it.  Maybe it
was nothing more than an old address for a long-solved case ...

But as he was headed for the door, a magazine - one he recognized
as catering to the conspiracy-addicted of the world - caught his eye. 
_The Magic Bullet_ by the Lone Gunmen.

LG - Lone Gunmen, suddenly the address seemed more hopeful. 
And it was better than sitting guiltily amongst the mess he had
created, doing nothing.  Glancing over the office on his way out, he
shrugged.  

Well, he could always blame it on the aliens.

*****

5:24 pm


It didn't look promising.

Walter stared at the half-trailer, half-house, completely dilapidated
structure that resided at the address of 2423 Springer Rd.  It was
slowly falling apart, with shingles hanging off the roof, dozens of
wires leading off to connect to phone and electric lines, and an
absolute gigantic generator sitting in the middle of the yard.  It
looked as though the owners were prepared to wait out a war.  Or
had just been though a war.

Walking across the long-dead grass, he approached the front door
warily.  If these were friends of Mulder's he had suspicions about
their views on the FBI and the US government in general.  And was
quite sure that they would happily ignore anyone they associated
with *Them*.  His only hope was the possibility that Mulder had
mentioned him favorably at some point.

Knocking at the door, he was more than aware of the strange
silence that not only permeated the area around the house but the
neighborhood in general.  Even though he knew this was not one of
the best sections of DC anyway, the atmosphere just seemed so
*strange*.

As he raised his fist to knock a second time, a small man answered
the door.  "Whatever it is that you're selling, I don't want any," he
said gruffly, through the tiny crack.  "Go away."

"I'm not selling anything.  I'm a friend of Mulder's and I need your
help."  Walter clenched his fist and waited in frustration.

The man studied him closely for several minutes, then shut the door
to undo the chain lock.  Grabbing him by the arm, he pulled Walter
inside the door and stepped out onto the front porch, looking
desperately up and down the street, studying each car and tree
intently.  Seemingly satisfied, he slammed the front door and
gestured for Walter to follow him down a set of stairs into what
looked like a messy computer lab.

"Idiot," he mumbled "You could have been followed, you know. 
Probably were.  Anyway you're not Mulder's friend, you're his boss. 
How in hell did you find out about us?"

Unable to reply, Walter offered the scrap of paper, which the man
read then turned and burned in an ashtray.  "Scully, I should've
figured.  Few years back she wasn't as safe as Mulder, 'though she's
learned better now.  Probably wrote that down the first time Mulder
brought her to see us, and forgot 'bout it.  Why are you here?"

Walter gritted his teeth at the guy's tone, but answered.  "I'm trying
to find Mulder and Scully - I've got to warn them that whatever
they're doing has been noticed.  And you were the only possibility I
could locate."

"Government idiots, you and those two.  Never think before you
leap, never plan in advance.  So you end up covered in shit."

This *wasn't* helping his mood.  "Can you help me, or can't you?"

"A year ago, I would have sent you back out that door on your
butt."

Not likely, thought Walter, glancing at the short guy's weak frame.

"But I heard 'bout what you did for Mulder and Scully; 'bout how
you bluffed and dealt for them when they ended up in that mess in
New Mexico.  Mulder half-trusts you, you know."

Walter's eyes widened in surprise.  That was something he hadn't
suspected.  Although his support in the case surrounding his wife
had surprised him, he'd figured it was because Mulder could never
stop seeking the truth.  Not because Mulder had perhaps been
realizing that having a semi-ally in the AD's office might make some
sense.  

"So, I'll help you.  Since it fits in with what I've been doing,
anyway.  I'm Frohike, by the way."

"Walter Skinner." he said, realizing that by giving him his name,
Frohike was silently agreeing to an alliance.

"I know."  

Great, a smart aleck, Walter thought, rolling his eyes as Frohike
turned his back for an instant.  

"Last week, I know that Mulder received some information
regarding a case he'd worked on a while ago.  The case dealing with
the government's secret railroad to transport alien-human hybrids. 
He brought it to us for verification, then he and Scully took off
after it."

Walter frowned and repressed a shiver.  Damn it!  If it related to a
closed case, why hadn't they come to him?  Especially if it was
about *that* case.  His mind touched briefly upon the rather
confusing and grisly details in both Mulder's and Scully's reports. 
What the hell had they stumbled across now? 

"I remember.  What kind of information?"

"Just that the government was moving some more experiments
along a section of railroad out West, perhaps trying to clean up to
the point where the secret railroad would be of no further use. 
Mulder dragged Scully along with him to prove that these were
more than just victims of radiation tests - that they were truly the
genetically half-aliens he believed them to be."

Walter groaned.  Oh shit - those idiots.  Whatever was being
moved, whatever was being done, the bastards knew that the two
had gotten word of it.

"They were supposed to stay in touch via some friends we've got
out there.  They never made contact.  I've been trying to track them
the past few days, trying to figure out where they ended up.  And I
think I've traced their hotel rooms at least, although I'm going to
have to go out to Washington State to check them out myself.  If
they've vanished, thanks to your bosses ..."

"I don't think so.  They don't seem to know their location either."

"Good, for now.  I'm heading out West tonight.  Coming along?"

Walter thought for a minute.  Everything over at the bureau was
relatively quiet - and he had lots of vacation time to spare. 
Anyway, he wanted to be the one that found those two and reamed
them out.  At least his screaming couldn't hurt them physically ... he
shuttered as he thought of what 'Cancer Man' might order done to
the two if he located them first.  

"Sure."

*****

June 20
4:25 am

Somehow, this wasn't what he expected.  Stuffed into a single,
crappy motel room, one bed, taking turns sleeping and showering ...
and Frohike.  Christ, that was a strange little man.  After spending
the entire plane-trip expounding upon the CIA conspiracy
surrounding the death of JFK, he'd begun explaining how the NSA
helped the alien abductions.  And for some reason, some of his
theories were beginning to make sense ...

Walter blamed it on lack of sleep.

But they'd discovered nothing relating to Mulder and Scully thus
far.

Their motel rooms, once Frohike had helped him break into them,
had been empty but not abandoned.  Suitcases still sat on closet
shelves, clothing still filled drawers and from the few pieces of
business attire Walter had recognized, they'd been able to confirm
that the stuff belonged to the missing agents.

So where in hell where they!?

Walter sighed and refocused his binoculars on the windows of their
rooms, across the parking lot and slightly to the right.  Two days,
two nights and no one had appeared to claim the belongings
gathering dust.  But Mulder and Scully's rooms were paid up to the
beginning of the next week - one of the few pieces of info he'd
gathered using his badge instead of subterfuge.  Since he really
wasn't on an official case he hated doing it, but it had been the only
way.  

Well, truthfully, his badge *and* a ten-dollar bill had been the only
way.  

Sighing he turned his eyes away from the windows and glanced at
the night sky, slowly starting to grow pink along the horizon, telling
of the coming dawn.  Today they were planning to abandon their
post at the motel for a few hours and question the town's small
business owners, trying to discover *if* the two had actually gotten
this far, and just *when* they had vanished without a trace.

'Nothing vanishes without a trace', a breath of wind echoed
through the screen.

WHAT!  Walter, eyes intent, glanced around at the silent parking
lot and the deserted street.  Where had that come from?  Hell, this
was the reason he'd always hated stake-outs as a junior agent - after
hours of staring at nothing, his mind would create minor
hallucinations to keep itself occupied.  Dancing pink elephants,
purple bluebirds, he'd seen them all.  And it had been years after his
'Nam experiments with drugs.

"Okay, okay calm down," he muttered under his breath.  And
listened sharply for another moment.  Except for the slight rustle of
tree leaves upon the breeze no sound disturbed the night air, no
silent voice whispered strange advice or warnings.

Christ, this was going to be a *long* vacation.

*****

June 20
6:42 pm

Oh God, and he hadn't expected just how long.  Trampling through
the woods just behind Frohike, Walter tried to ignore the biting
insects that were undeterred by the massive amounts of bug spray
he'd coated himself with.  Yeah, nothing disappears without a trace,
or without remaining in the memory of the camping store clerk
they'd apparently bought several hundred dollars worth of
equipment from.

So of course Frohike had decided that they needed to buy lots of
equipment and tramp off into the woods after them.

Not that Walter disagreed.  Where ever the two were, it was clear
they were headed directly into trouble.  If trouble hadn't found them
already.  But *camping*?  After 'Nam, Walter had decided that he
didn't find spending hours and hours walking through woods and
swamps in any way enjoyable, so had sworn off camping entirely. 
So, here he was, following someone he believed half-insane, after
two wayward agents that could hopefully handle whatever shit they
got themselves into ...

And getting eaten alive by fucking blood-sucking insects!

Deep in his thoughts, Walter didn't realize that Frohike had stopped
until he literally tripped over the guy.  "Hey, watch out!" the man
cried.  "Unless you want to end up on your fucking ass in that
creek."

Walter didn't even try to rise to the challenge.  "Sorry.  Is there a
reason we've stopped?"

"Yeah.  See those train tracks?" Pointing off towards something in
the distance.

Squinting into the sun, Walter finally located the rusty set of tracks,
almost disguised by a shield of thick trees that ran along side them. 
"Yeah."

"I believe those are the old Coastal Railway tracks, the tracks the
government's supposed to be using as part of their railroad.  And
the tracks that Mulder and Scully were after."

"Great.  Got any ideas to what to do next?"  Walter sat down on a
boulder, easing his pack off his shoulders for the instant.  Although
he was in perfectly good shape, five hours on the trail with it had
taken its toll.

Frohike dropped beside him.  "Find a camping spot.  It's getting too
late to begin tracking them now.  See, this spot is the closest the
tracks run to any town out here, so the two had to meet up with
them somewhere nearby.  And neither Mulder or Scully is overly
woodwise.  Their trails should be fairly obvious."

Walter, although he believed himself too tired for amazement,
nevertheless found his eyes widening in surprise.  This man, who
looked as though he'd never been out of the city limits, believed he
had the skills to track two people through the wilderness.  

Paranoid, and now delusional.  Oh, this situation just kept getting
better and better!  Crap.  He'd better begin praying now if he ever
wanted to see civilization again.

*****

11:21 pm

Although they were out in the middle of nowhere, Frohike had
insisted upon sleeping in shifts, so that at least one of them would
be prepared for an unexpected attack.  Walter hadn't even bothered
to ask.

Instead he'd volunteered for the first shift and watched as the other
man carefully checked over every bit of electronics he'd brought
with him, and fell into sleep.

As the two had prepared camp, Walter had been startled by the
amount of knowledge Frohike had, especially after his earlier
presumption that he'd never been further out of a city than to visit a
forest preserve.  He'd known how to chose camp-spots, set up a
site, and many other things.  Something Walter might expect out of
an over-prepared FBI agent, but not a UFO weirdo.

And his knowledge of electronics!  Although in the middle of the
wilderness, that hadn't meant that they were out of contact with the
world.  In fact, he'd watched as Frohike checked email upon a very
durable lap-top computer with a wireless modem - one of the type
that had been developed for the use of the US military - and
checked their location using some very sophisticated equipment
that Walter hadn't even known was available to the general public
yet.

How - *what* - had turned an obviously intelligent man into the
paranoid government hater he was now?  He wasn't stupid, blindly
following strange theories that others had dreamed up, but
understood the ideas he proposed, understood the impossibility of
proving them.  No wonder Mulder was friends with the man - birds
of a feather and all.  The intelligent yet strange of the world
gathering together to combat paper tigers; paper tigers that Mulder
had begun to prove weren't as fragile or impossible as they seemed.

Pacing across the small clearing in which they had set up camp,
Walter allowed his racing thoughts free rein.  There wasn't anything
else to think about, anyhow.  Either he'd make himself sick to his
stomach thinking of the danger the two idiots were headed into, or
make his head spin trying to make sense of Frohike.  Out here, only
those two things made any difference anyhow.

The man who had brains and probably would have been welcomed
into any tech field had he just got the training ... the two that chased
things Walter could not believe his government supported and
*proved* them, not beyond a shadow of a doubt, but well enough
to kill his belief in human decency ...   

Not paying much attention in the shadowy light from the slowly
dying fire, and deep within his own thoughts, it was only a matter
of time before he did something stupid.  So stumbling across the
stump upon which Frohike had placed the laptop and the two
canteens wasn't totally unexpected, but the man's reaction to
sudden noise *was*.

Instantly, Frohike was upon his feet, alert and ready for action. 
"What's that?" he hissed.

"Nothing, just me."

"DON'T do that!"  and with a final glare, he settled back down into
his sleeping bag, falling almost instantly into sleep.

But leaving a beginning-to-understand Walter with some of the
information he'd been wondering about, he *knew* those reflexes,
understood them.  Why?  'Cause he'd had to overcome them
himself.

'Nam.  Vietnam.

Frohike seemed about his age, about right to either have been
drafted or have volunteered for service.  And Walter, although he
had overcome or repressed most of his problems from his service,
knew men that hadn't.  Men that never managed to regain normal
lives, intelligent men that ended up on the streets suffering from the
memories of what they'd seen or done;  perhaps a hatred of the
government that sent him into the war wasn't that far a leap.

And for someone looking for something to grasp, something to care
about, UFO conspiracies were an interesting alternative to trying to
deal with real life.

Walter knew that with his resources, he could probably come up
with the information he was wondering about, even if Frohike
wasn't the man's real name.  He could learn about what had driven
an intelligent man into the shadowy world of the partially insane ...

And Frohike could probably find out that Walter had decided to
track down his past, probably the fastest way to earn his mistrust. 
Right now, he was only in Frohike's good graces 'cause Mulder
trusted him (and that in and of itself was a true surprise).  It would
be far too easy for him to turn back into a government baddie in
Frohike's eyes.

And suddenly he realized that he didn't want his mistrust.
Somehow, he was beginning to like the strange man.

*****

June 21
2:34 pm

The next day, somehow, wasn't even half as bad.

Since they hadn't set up a tent the night before, organizing
themselves and hitting the trail again had taken very little time. 
After a quick breakfast, they'd been off and had located the remains
of Mulder's and Scully's first campsite within an hour.

Only problem was, judging by what the store-owner had told them
yesterday, the two agents had at least a three-day head start. 
Walter only hoped that they had decided to set up a permanent
camp site somewhere overlooking the railway, instead of continuing
to hike along it.  Unless the two stopped, Walter and Frohike
wouldn't have a chance in hell of catching up.

Trailing along behind Frohike, ducking the tree branches that
blocked his way, Walter sighed.  "Hell, why can't they just be
normal?"

"Normal?  Mulder and Scully?"

"Yeah.  I could just look the other way if the two of them had
decided to hide away in a little love-nest somewhere for a week ...
something stupid but *normal*.  NOT chasing government
conspiracies and aliens through the woods of Washington State!"

Frohike glanced over his shoulder.  "It's up on the coast in
Massachusetts."

His jaw dropped "WHAT!?"

"Just kidding."  Frohike tossed back, obviously repressing his
laughter.  "I had to see your reaction.  You're such a tight-ass ..."

Walter shook his head, and stepped over a tree-root in his way. 
Well, that wasn't anything he'd expected out of Frohike - and he
didn't know if he preferred it over conspiracy theories.  At least
those didn't require a response.  "Well, have you ever wondered
why they aren't?"

"Aren't involved?"

"Yeah.  I mean, even though it's against bureau policy, that hasn't
stopped them from doing anything in the past.  And their enemies
already have used them against each other, and probably will again. 
If they kept it quiet, I wouldn't do a thing."

"But they're damaged lonely souls who refuse to let down the walls
even for a second, even for each other."

Walter stopped in shock and just looked at the man who turned to
face him.  "You think that's the reason?"

"That's the reason.  They don't dare to trust.  Remember the case
when Scully went nuts?  She believed that Mulder had betrayed her. 
That's her greatest fear:  that the one she so totally trusts will turn
on her.  So she doesn't let herself get that close.  

"If the two became involved, it would be an intensely emotional
relationship, one that would need full openness on both sides to
succeed.  They'd fight and love with equal intensity, but it would
only succeed if the two were willing to communicate *everything*. 
Neither of them are ready for that because they're too private. 
They wouldn't tell the other what troubled them, would push the
other away, and that would destroy them.  They need their
friendship, and their partnership to survive."

"You've thought a lot about this."  Walter said, studying Frohike's
face. 

"Well, she's hot and I wanted to know if I had a chance.  I don't. 
But that doesn't keep me from teasing her."

Walter stared at the small man for an instant, and laughed.  "I
actually don't think anyone but Mulder's got a chance, Scully's too
involved in her work for a life.  Come on, let's get going again."

Shaking his head, Walter began to follow Frohike through the trees
once again.  He wondered how long it had taken the man to figure
out that Scully was inaccessible to almost everyone, and guessed at
what form the 'teasing' must take.  Roses, candy, stuffed animals -
he would have loved to see her face during the deliveries of some of
those.  He'd seen her Irish temper, he would have loved to see her
Irish embarrassment ...

So involved was he in his internal mirth that he almost missed
Frohike's last, mumbled statement.  "Or that anyone but Scully's got
a real chance with Mulder, either."  That stopped him deep for an
instant, but he was sure that he'd misheard that statement.  Or
misunderstood it.  Christ, he needed to get out of these woods ... 

*****

7:53 pm

For the past hour they'd been keeping a sharp eye out for a camp-
site, any campsite.  But in this thistle-grown section of forest, it
took full concentration not to end up completely bloodied and
aching.

So intent was Walter upon avoiding the plants, finding a clear path
through the bushes, that he didn't notice the sudden drop-off before
him until it was far too late.  Breaking through the overgrowth, he
tumbled down the steep slope with a surprised yell and ended up at
the bottom, dazed and hurting. 

Shit, shit, SHIT!

Blinking his eyes as he tried to clear his aching head, Walter was
abruptly reminded that he wasn't twenty any more as his limbs and
joints began screaming in outrage at the sudden torture.  As if he
needed a reminder. Of all the stupid things he'd done in his lifetime,
falling over a damn cliff ...

But what was worse was the sharp, blinding pain radiating from his
left leg.  Twisting himself into an almost upright position, he stared
at the extra bend in his leg with horrified eyes.  There was no way
he was walking out of here, or searching for his two bedamned
agents any longer.  And the only one he could depend on for help ...
"FROHIKE!"

His companion poked his head over the edge of the cliff, looking
quite owl-like for a fraction of a second.  "Skinner?  What in hell
..."

Then he scrambled down the boulders, thankfully keeping his
balance despite his speed.  Walter didn't want to think about what
might happen if *both* of them were out of commission.

"You remember basic first aid, I hope?"

"Huh?  Oh, yeah.  Damn, I'm going to have to set this then use
something to bind it."

Well, at least he was willing to help. "First aid kit with splints in my
backpack - guy charged a fortune for it, but I figured it was worth
it."

Walter shifted so that Frohike could drag off his pack without
overly disturbing his leg.  Even the slightest movement caused him
to become light-headed, and he didn't even want to think about ...

"Brace yourself, I'm going to set it."

The world went black.

*****
Time unknown.

Damn, his watch had been smashed in his fall.  

But he'd been out for hours, at least.   The night sky shone with
brilliant stars above him, the summer sun seemingly long set.  

Shifting his weight slightly, groaning at the bruises laying on a
stone-covered ground had given him, he glanced at his leg. 
Although it was obviously swelling under its bindings, it lacked the
second bend his earlier fall had given him, and the pain had gone
down slightly.

"You look like shit."

The voice came from the direction of a small fire.  "Well how an I
supposed to look after falling down a wall of stones?"

"You know, you're not going to be any help to either Mulder or
Scully in this condition."

Stating the obvious.  Suppressing (for the second) his irritation at
the man's ability to state *exactly* what was bothering him Walter
gamely replied, "I guess not."

"You know, I should consider this a plot to keep me from helping
them.  Get me out in the wilderness with someone I really don't
know, then let him get injured while his colleagues go after the ones
I'm searching for."

For Christ's sake!  Couldn't the man give up his paranoia about
government conspiracies for even a second?  "You think I
*volunteered* for this!?  Think I wanted to fall down that damn
wall?  I didn't even know about the drop-off, you idiot!  I certainly
would have found a less painful way to put myself out of
commission if I had wanted to!"

"Yeah, right." Frohike grunted, then got up and walked over to
him.  Walter braced himself for another verbal attack, but instead he
offered him his arm.  "Do you want to move closer to the fire?  I
know it's going to be painful, but there's some major painkillers in
that first aid kit.  And there's a log over there that'll be a little more
comfortable to lean against, 'specially if I lay your sleeping bag
against it."

Still too dazed with pain to make sense of the sudden switch,
Walter took the offered arm and pulled himself up on one leg. 
Then almost fainted *again* from the pain the change in position
brought.  Leaning against Frohike in that moment, he was surprised
how strong the man was, despite his short and weak-seeming
frame.  He didn't waver as Walter's weight suddenly fell against
him, and supported him until he could gain his balance on his one
good leg.

The few steps toward the fire took an eternity, and Walter was
exhausted by the time he arrived and Frohike handed him the
painkillers.  No matter what Mulder and Scully were walking into,
he wasn't any good to them in this condition.  Stupid, stupid, to get
injured like this.  Shaking his head, he leaned back against the log
and stared into the fire.

"Frohike?"

"Yes?"

"I can't go on."

"I know.  I radioed back to the town as soon as I set your leg. 
Apparently, there's a little-used logging road within a mile of our
location that they're sending a forest ranger and some medics in on
tomorrow morning.  They'll be here about mid-day."

Frohike fell back into silence, and Walter followed.  Really, there
was nothing to talk about.  He'd screwed up, and now their little
jaunt through the woods was screwed over.  Oh, he couldn't wait
for that cigarette-smoking bastard to hear about this one ...

"How did you know?"  the question came suddenly out of the
shadow Frohike had sat down in.

"What?"

"You knew that I would know first aid.  But you said 'remember',
like you knew why I knew first aid.  And *I* wouldn't expect a guy
like me to know first aid."

Oh, shit.  He'd been so grateful to have someone that basically
knew what to do, that he'd forgotten about his presumptions - and
let Frohike know what he suspected.  "Frohike ..."

"Did you investigate me?  Do you have a damn file stuck away
somewhere that tells you of all my problems, of all my past, you
and your damn CIA, NSA buddies laughing at Mulder's little
informant ... poor Frohike, can't deal with real life ... and I was even
starting to like you, for a FBI'er, thought you were more like
Mulder ..."

Frohike was rambling, his words becoming disjointed and voice
ragged.  

"Frohike, Frohike ..."

"Government assholes!  All you care about is your *knowledge*,
don't care about others privacy, or anything; you're probably out
here under the command of your superiors, not 'cause you actually
*care* about them, leashed little tight-ass ..."

The situation wasn't getting any better.  And Walter hadn't a clue
what to do about it.  "No, Frohike ..."

The shadow turned away from him.  "Don't even try.  Just leave
tomorrow, and I'll go after them."

"I was in 'Nam, too."  The whispered confession even took Walter
by surprise.  He wasn't planning to say it, he just *said* it.

"Don't even start."

"I didn't investigate you.  Last night, remember last night?  When I
stumbled across that stump, and you woke up?  I recognized that,
Frohike.  I recognized *that*."

The other man didn't say a word.  And Walter felt his throat
clogging up, his normal refusal to talk about his experiences re-
asserting itself, the refusal  that had allowed him to survive the last
couple decades.  So few times he'd talked about it and told anyone
about what his eighteen-year-old self had done, seen ... 

"I know how a part of you dies, numbing you to the horror, and
how the struggle to regain it - or forget - it forces the pattern of the
rest of your life.  Sometimes, when a part of your heart dies, it's
better to leave it that way, to ignore it.  But the emptiness won't
allow you to."  For an instant, he could remember the last time he'd
spoken of it, Mulder's eyes imploring him to *trust*, the eyes of a
man that *understood* ...

"Damn government.  You're just a city kid, never held a gun, and
they draft you and expect you to kill.  Then, after everything you
see, after all the death and the blood  - dead children, women, men
who died for a war *they* believed in - they send you back and
expect you to survive.  Hah.  A fight against communism, yeah
right.  Politics, that's all, politics."

Walter remained silent.  If Frohike was willing to talk, he wouldn't
say a word.  

"You know what was worse?  The kids, the damn kids.  They didn't
know what was going on, they just fought, just little kids."

A memory, a memory of a little boy, dead, covered with grenades,
flashed into his head.  A little boy who probably had a mama
somewhere, unless his mother had died, killed by one of the two
sides.

"You come back, and are expected to be normal?  After you've seen
kids killed, after the college students spit on you, after you learn
even the government doesn't really care about everything you've
done?  Why in hell are you still in the government after all that!?"

Walter gasped and dumbly blinked at Frohike.  "Well, it was doing
some good, you know, the FBI, the good guys.  Tracking down the
bad guys, knowing who the bad guys *are* ..."

"Hah.  I prefer my solution.  After all I learned about my 'country'
during that damn war, I learned just how stupid it all was."

Interesting way of looking at it.  Far too interesting.  "But do you
truly believe that the government could hide all the conspiracies
that you and your friends assign to it?"

"Maybe not all."  The low tone of Frohike's voice conveyed his
embarrassment. "Yeah, even I know that some of them are slightly
insane, but hell, it's far easier to go the whole route, you know,
completely insane, immersing yourself in the whole counter-
government thing.  You can't go just half-way, it doesn't work."

"Mulder does."

"And it doesn't work.  He's a government agent, and one of us, but
not really trusted by either side.  Even I know 'bout his rep, 'bout
'Spooky' Mulder.  How many friends does he have in the bureau
besides Scully?

"And us.  My friends and I trust him, but sometimes turning to
some of our sources to help him is difficult.  They look at us funny
'cause we associate with a Fed ... with one of the 'bad' guys."

"Bad guys?"  The wry grin on Walter's face broke into a wince of
pain.

 "I know there's things out there that the government participates
in, things they don't want us knowing about and will kill to keep
secret.  I've seen too much, realized too much to trust almost
anyone associated with the Feds, even the grunts."

Seen too much ... realized too much ... how many people did that
describe?  How many people were like Frohike, or like Mulder,
walking around with deep, unhealing wounds in their souls, trying
to find anything to believe in ... a vision of the little boy flashed
across his vision again.  Christ, the painkillers were getting to him. 
Slightly he shook his head, and couldn't repress the low moan that
he uttered as he jolted his leg.

"Frohike," he paused, "Mulder has more friends than Scully in the
bureau.  I'd be proud if he would consider me a friend.  Even if I
can't help as much as I'd like." 

The little man moved over toward him and peered at his face. 
"You're starting to believe, aren't you." he stated.

"I don't know ... I've seen things, realized things that make no sense
if Mulder was purely insane ... but how can I believe in the things
he does?  I *can't*."

"Think of the government that sent you into the senseless war, not
the government that you have created in your head.  The
government run by greedy, inhumane politicians.  Sure, some are
pretty harmless, but think of the reports that regularly show up on
the evening news - the corruption, lies - how far of a leap is it?"

The painkillers were really taking affect.  Frohike was making way
too much sense about now.  "I don't know ..."

Frohike studied his face for an instant, probably noting all the
twisting confusion that was driving his thoughts wild ... confusion
and suspicions he tried to keep at bay during his normal life.  "You
know what I mean.  But you can't accept it."

He shook his head.

"That's okay.  I believe you;  I don't think you're spying.  You're too
good for that, too honest.  Even if you can't believe."

Somehow he'd convinced Frohike that he wasn't the enemy, but he
couldn't think much past that at this instant.  Sleep was claiming his
sense ... he shook his head again.

"Here, lay down."  And Frohike gently moved his leg so that his
change in position wouldn't jolt it.  "Good night."

Quickly sleep claimed him, as the conversation of the past hour
began to blend itself into his dreams.

*****

June 24
11:57am

White walls - a disgustingly familiar scent stinging his nose - he was
in a hospital.  How had he gotten here?  The last thing he
remembered was a rather confusing conversation with Frohike, a
conversation the faint memory of which left his stomach slight
queasy.  His head felt like some of his world had been shaken loose,
never to be replaced exactly.  Strange, just strange.

Somehow, he must have slept right though the rescue.  They must
have given him something, or Frohike had given him something. 
He couldn't exactly remember what meds were in that first aid kit,
but if he had knocked him out and took off ...Christ, don't let him
have gone off by *himself* out there ... 

Worry colouring his thoughts, Walter struggled to sit up, intend on
finding the call button for the nurse.  He had to know what Frohike
had done.  But with his heavily-casted leg suspended off the bed,
his squirming wasn't doing much good.  Damn it, he was going to
be on crutches for a long time 'cause of the stupid accident.

"Looking for something?"  the familiar voice came from the
doorway.

Twisting his head, Walter saw Frohike standing at the entrance, as
if unsure of his welcome.  "Yeah, the call button.  And you."

"Well, I'm here, and the call button's too far over for you to reach."
He walked over beside the bed and indicated a dirty-looking button
set into the wall, way too far from the bed for the mostly-
immobilized man to reach.  "Guess the nurses don't like being
bothered around here."

As Frohike settled uncomfortably into a chair, Walter peered over
at him, trying to figure him out.  "Ummm ... you didn't go?"

"Off to search by myself?  No.  Figured I'd come back with them
and see how you were doing myself."

"How did I get here?"

"Oh, the swelling was so bad by the time the medics arrived that
they decided you'd be in less pain unconscious.  I guess I didn't do
the greatest job setting it, after all.  So, since you were still asleep,
they gave you a shot of something and got you here."

"How long?"

"You've been out for two days, about.  They had to operate, you
know, put in a pin to help hold the bone together.  You woke up a
little in the recovery room, but I guess you don't remember that."

Two days ... two more days for Mulder and Scully to get
themselves in trouble.  SHIT!  "You've been hanging around here
for two days  and the idiots are still out there!?"

"Well, not really."  Frohike blushed.  "Yeah, I hung around here; I
didn't feel stupid enough to go chasing after them on my own.  But
they're not still out there.  About an hour ago I got an email
message from one of my friends in Washington.  Both Mulder and
Scully turned up last night in a car that appeared to have been run
off the highway in Maryland."  

Walter gasped, picturing a wreck.

"No, they're fine, but they still think it's last week.  They don't even
remember the information that they had me check out."

Damn it, *they* had gotten to the duo.  Damn it, damn it, damn it
... but they were okay.  At least their enemies hadn't used this
chance to get rid of the pests.

"As far as we can tell, they're fine, otherwise.  My friends convinced
the doctors to check for implants like the one Scully ended up with,
but nothing.  No hint of either were they've been, or what they've
been doing."

Case closed.  Without a resolution, again.  Walter closed his eyes
against the headache that was beginning to eat at his brain and
shook his head.  "So we've accomplished nothing.  Except getting
my damn leg broken."

"Seems like it."

"Frohike, please get their stuff from the hotel.  The least we can do
is take it back to them.  And how soon can I get out of here?"

"Tomorrow, they claim."

"Can you get us tickets back to Washington?"

"Already done."

He sighed and reopened his eyes to see Frohike staring at him
anxiously.  "Thank you.  Thank you, Frohike."

"For what?"

And Walter realized he didn't have an answer to that.  For sticking
by him, for trusting him enough to drag him along, despite Frohike's
hatred of the government ... "For everything."

Frohike cast him a strange, unreadable glance, and walked out the
door.

Walter shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable, an impossible task
with his leg in the position it was.  And his left arm hit something
unexpected.

A teddy bear regarded him with soft, serious eyes, the wire-framed
glasses and wool sweater the bear was wearing giving him the look
of some sort of college professor.

A teddy bear?  Who in hell had given him a teddy bear?

Probably one of the nurses or something.  Taking it in his hands he
regarded it for an instant.

The bear stared back.

Well, it was cute, anyway.  Those wire-trimmed glasses gave it
such an overly serious look; grinning slightly, he settled it back
against his pillow and thought about taking the thing with him.

*****

June 28
9:21am

His crutches leaning against the wall behind him, Walter carefully
studied the small clock ticking away the seconds on the uncluttered
desk before him.  Today was his first day back, after taking a few
days to recover from his encounter with the cliff.  And his
encounter with Frohike.

So, today was the day to deal with the problem of Mulder and
Scully as well.

Because the two of them had been on official leave when the
accident occurred, everything leading up to it was technically none
of the bureau's business.  But hell, he'd put his ass into danger for
them, trying to protect them, and even if he hadn't succeeded, he
felt that they owed him explanations.  Or just the chance to ream
them out.

So, since today was their second day back after the car 'accident' in
Maryland, he'd curtly informed them that they were expected in his
office at *exactly* 9:30.  

Especially with the slight thudding pain still echoing through his
leg, a pain even his painkillers couldn't ease.  Every moment that
background pain reminded him of the hell he'd gone through.  He
wanted to see them squirm.

Particularly since according to some rumours he'd overheard
already this morning, the whole bureau was discussing the affair of
Mulder and Scully.  Affair as in *love* affair.  Everyone thought
that they'd been caught out with the accident, exposing a secret that
the two were trying to keep very quiet.  And although Skinner
knew that the purpose of their vacation was completely different, it
would be fun to mess with their minds just a little.

Hopefully, they'd remembered enough to refute him.

A knock at the door brought him to attention.  A whole four
minutes early, a record for the two of them.  Calling "Come in!" he
composed his face and waited.

But when Kimberly, his secretary, poked her head in the door, he
gritted his teeth slightly and relaxed, angerly ignoring the jolt of
pain that shot up his leg.  "Yes?"

"Sir, there's a package that just has been delivered for you."

"A package?"  Funny, he couldn't remember anything that should be
coming this morning.

"Well, kind of."

Glaring at her ability to dance around a subject, he snapped "Well,
then bring it in!", his patience worn to nothing by the mind-numbing
painkillers,  and turned his attention back to the clock.  Two
minutes.  Oh, he hoped they'd be late,  he didn't want them walking
in in the middle of a conversation with Kimberly.   He wanted the
upper hand here.  Especially with the fog surrounding his mind, he
needed the upper hand to begin with, if he intended to outwit the
duo.

But the 'package' she placed in front of him, with a considerable
*thump* was nothing he expected.  Two roses in a slender glass
vase, one yellow, one deep red ... two perfectly shaped roses just
on the brink of full bloom.

And of course, while he was staring at this unexpected surprise,
that was when the duo, with their perfect timing, knocked quietly
and walked in.

While Mulder stood, almost at attention, before his desk, Scully
stared at the roses in envy, eyes dancing with interest, and her
feminine charms came into play.

"Oh, how lovely, Sir!  Are they from someone special?"

Walter stuttered out "I'm not exactly sure," and took the card.  She
was obviously quite intrigued by this whole event but he wanted to
know about his personal life before it became known throughout
the bureau.  So, leaving the two to stand and wait before him for an
instant he opened the card.

     And you're welcome, although I didn't say it before.  If 
     you ever want to come and visit, you're as welcome as 
     Mulder is, and you won't end up tossed out on your ass.  
     It's too nice of an ass, anyway.

A delicate cursive F graced the bottom of the note.  And as he put
the teddy bear, the roses, the note, and the few odd comments he'd
heard from Frohike together in a logical pattern, he began to blush.

"Sir?"  Scully's blue eyes, barely suppressed curiosity shining within
them, peered at him.  "Are you all right?" 

"Perfectly fine, Agent Scully."  And he took a deep breath, trying to
regain some sense of the situation.  Trying to ignore the amusement
that decorated the faces of both of the usually solemn agents.

"Is everything all right, Sir?" this time it was Mulder prying for
information.

"Everything's fine.  Just blame it on the aliens, Agent Mulder. 
Blame it on the aliens."  And he stuck the card beneath the desk's
blotter, seemingly ignoring it for now.  "And about your recent
disappearance ..."

But his attention wasn't fully on the conversation.  Even as the two
agents squirmed, trying to explain something they didn't even
remember, his attention was on the note, and the two roses gracing
his desk.  

Maybe he would stop by, maybe he would.  And, maybe soon.

*****

End of "When Skinner Met Frohike"

A couple notes: The dare I mentioned in the beginning was
proposed by a MSR'er, Sarah Kiley, who dared me to make a
Skinner-Frohike romance work (reading fanfic late nights gets 
you into strange situations <g>).  Yeah, I drifted a little from the
basic dare since the 'romance' doesn't come in until the end, but ...

Comments please!   deirdre@x-philes.com