MAJOR ANGST ALERT. There is virtually nothing light and fluffy about this one and barely a wisecrack in sight.

Spoilers: SR819.

Many thanks to Sergeeva and Holmes.

BETRAYAL

Seal Beach.

He pulled on a pair of gray shorts and a vest, and took his usual morning jog along the seashore. It was the same routine, and he stuck to it, rain or shine. He even jogged in the snow. He was a man comfortable with certainties in a life where the sands had shifted more frequently than he was able to keep up with. He jumped the steps from his small beach house two at a time, and hit the sand with his bare feet, sinking a little way in, loving the grainy feel of it between his toes. He ran down to the sea, longing to feel the cool waves lapping over his ankles as he ran, splashing in and out, his long legs covering the distance in no time. The salty air refreshed and invigorated him. There was a cool breeze, and a promise of rain in the dark overhead sky.

He enjoyed his solitude. During his year in prison, it had been a precious commodity, in short supply, and he had sometimes felt that he would have killed for it. Now, he enjoyed both his freedom, and his loneliness. After a couple of miles, he passed Mrs. Jardine's house. Her dog ran out into the yard and the old lady waved and opened the gate. The dog ran down to the sea, jumping up against him, and he grinned and pulled the black, curly coated retriever into a bear hug, laughing as the dog licked his nose.

"Hey, Ben. C'mon." The dog barked excitedly, and they set off, dog and man, splashing through the water, tiny droplets of rain coating the man's vest and the dog's fur.

He parted company with the dog half an hour later, returning him to Mrs. Jardine's yard, with a last fond pat on the animal's head, and then he returned to the beach, jogging back the remaining distance towards his home, his bare feet wet, and coated with sand. As he neared the house, his footsteps slowed and his heart froze. There, sitting on the steps, was a familiar, heart-breaking figure. He stopped, and stood for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. He had always known, deep in his soul, that it would, one day, come to this.

*****

Hoover Building. Washington DC

"Agent Mulder, this is, at this stage, an informal internal investigation to ascertain whether Assistant Director Skinner should be brought up before the OPR, or even whether there is a criminal case to answer here." The dark-haired man leaned back in his chair, and flicked open a file.

"I'm aware of that, sir." Mulder said steadily, not taking his eyes off the Assistant Director, who was sitting at the end of the long, polished table. Skinner cleared his throat, and gazed back. Mulder's hazel eyes held no hint of what he intended to do. Skinner's eyes dropped, and he stared instead at his own hands.

"Agent Mulder, I believe that you have recently been working on a case that you hoped would resolve several important issues that you have raised during your tenure on the X Files?"

"Yes, sir. That's correct." Mulder nodded, his eyes still fixed on the Assistant Director's bowed head.

"However, when you came into your office last Thursday, is it true that you found the file on this case missing?"

"Yes, sir. It is."

"Is it also true that the file contained special data that was not held anywhere else?"

"Yes, sir. That is also true." Mulder nodded.

"Who else knew of the existence of that evidence, Agent Mulder?"

"Only Assistant Director Skinner, sir." Mulder stated clearly.

"What do you believe happened to that file, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder didn't hesitate. His steely eyed gaze was unwavering.

"I believe the Assistant Director took it, sir, or someone working for him."

"Why would A.D. Skinner do that?" The agent in charge of Internal Investigations leaned forward eagerly.

"To cover up his involvement in a conspiracy against the American people, sir." Mulder rapped out. Skinner's head snapped up, and the AIC allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smirk.

"A 'conspiracy', Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, sir. Let me explain. For six years, I have struggled to find evidence relating to the activities of a group of faceless men who, I have reason to believe, are experimenting on innocent citizens for their own ends. The information I had recently gleaned was relating to a Mark Anthony Storr. He knew names, faces, and facts, and moreover, he was prepared to testify. He gave me, for the first time ever, the proof that I needed. The day after the file disappeared, Storr also went missing. Without his testimony, my case against the Syndicate, or Consortium, or whatever these faceless men call themselves, is worthless."

"I see. And do you have evidence to support your belief that Assistant Director Skinner was involved in this?"

"Yes, I do." Mulder pulled a file out from under his jacket, and laid it on the table. "Storr was being held in a safe house. A.D. Skinner was the only one who knew where."

"That's hardly conclusive…"

"No, it isn't; however, the documentation releasing Storr from our safe-keeping was signed by the Assistant Director."

"A signature is easily forged…"

"Two hours after Storr walked out of our safe house, this picture was taken of him on a bank security camera." Mulder handed the other man a grainy photograph. "You can see the date and time stamp. It clearly shows Storr, and he isn't alone. I had the image enhanced…"

Mulder pointed to a second photograph, which showed the unmistakable features of the Assistant Director.

"Where did you get these pictures from, Agent Mulder?"

"An old…friend." Mulder's eyes flickered back to meet Skinner's and he noticed a nerve in Skinner's neck twitch, almost imperceptibly.

"Do you know anything about this, A.D. Skinner?" The AIC looked directly at the Assistant Director.

"I do not, at this stage, have any comment to make." Skinner stated numbly.

"Did you authorize Storr to leave the safe house, and arrange for his subsequent removal to another, unknown location?"

Skinner hesitated. "I can't comment," he said finally.

"Are you able to share with us the reasons why you might have removed the witness? The AIC pressed.

"No."

"Do you have any idea as to the whereabouts at this time, of Mark Storr?"

"No. I do not." Skinner shrugged.

"You're a liar!" Mulder slammed his fist down on the table. "You killed him to stop him testifying against your friends in the Consortium, Skinner."

Skinner's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

"Do you have evidence to support that accusation, Agent Mulder?" The AIC pressed.

"No. They're too damn clever to leave any evidence; however he's a killer. I know that much. He's killed before, he can do it again."

Skinner stiffened, his body language agonized.

"What are you referring to, Agent Mulder?"

Angry hazel eyes met dark, hopeless, brown ones.

"I'm referring, sir…" Mulder paused, as if looking for some sign from the other man that would stop him continuing. He received none. "To a case a little over two years ago, when a police officer called Ray Thomas was killed during the course of an investigation into the death of a postal worker named Jane Brophy. The man who killed Thomas is sitting at this table. He was using my name at the time of the murder. The Assistant Director is that man. I have a file of evidence to support this accusation. "

"Why have you only chosen to speak out now - if this case is two years old?" The AIC demanded.

"The Assistant Director persuaded me that he was not responsible, that he'd been set up. I believed him." Mulder spat bitterly.

"And now you have changed your mind?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why? Why now? Why keep silent for two years?"

"The Assistant Director tried to manipulate me in order to enforce my silence." Mulder spoke softly.

"In what way?"

Mulder's eyes met Skinner's again and the Assistant Director's mouth opened in a wordless 'no'. The blow, when it came, was struck with a soft, but deadly accuracy.

"He seduced me, sir."

*****

"I know that." I kissed the back of your neck. "But you can't leave here. I won't let you just leave." You struggled pointlessly in my embrace for a moment, and then surrendered, leaning into me, snuggling against me, desperate for solidity, for someone to cling to until morning. I knew I would be that. I would be whatever you want me to be, and I would give you whatever you want me to give: strength, comfort, passion. You see I have no choice. I love you.

*****

U.S. Penitentiary, Allenwood.

Mulder walked along the prison corridor, his footsteps clicking angrily on the tiled floor. He had pulled several strings to get this privilege, and he still didn't know why he was here, or what he could possibly hope to expect. They stopped outside a cell, and the prison guard opened the door, whispering to Mulder that he had ten minutes.

"I'll…uh…ignore any sounds if you want to settle the score." The guard grinned. "Just don't kill him," he winked.

"I'll try to restrain myself." Mulder replied stonily.

"I hate dirty cops." The man spat on the floor in the direction of the prisoner who was lying on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. Mulder stepped into the cell, and flinched as the door clanged shut behind him. It was such a final sound, allowing no hope. Skinner had to listen to that sound several times a day. Mulder wondered how that must feel, empathized despite himself, despite believing that the other man deserved it. He glanced up, to find Skinner staring down at him.

"This is, I believe, against the rules, Agent Mulder," Skinner murmured, swinging his legs down over the side of the bunk. "Visiting prisoners in their cells? Alone?"

"What do you care about the rules, Assistant Director?" Mulder hissed, holding his body like a cat, ready to pounce. "Or should that be ex-Assistant Director?"

"It doesn't matter." Skinner shrugged.

"It does to me," Mulder said savagely. "I came here for answers, not the stone-walling crap you gave the inquiry. The guard was more than happy to oblige my request to visit you. Did you know how unpopular cops are when they turn dirty? You can expect a rough ride from them while you're in here. I don't suppose the other inmates will take too kindly to having an ex-fed among them either, although I expect you can handle yourself. Maybe you'll find a willing body in here to keep you warm, someone to take my place. Well?" Mulder closed the distance between himself and the other man.

"Nobody could take your place," Skinner said softly, his face flushing. "You know that."

"Oh I expect that's what you say to all your boyfriends." Mulder snapped.

"There was only…you." Skinner murmured.

Mulder stood there, visibly shaking, too close, invading the other man's space.

"I want to know. I have to know. There's only us two here, nobody listening, tell me - tell me why?" His voice was low, despairing. Skinner stood there silently. If he wanted to put out a hand to still the other man's shaking body he made no move to do so, nor did he answer the question. "You don't think that I have the right to know?" Mulder asked. Skinner said nothing, did nothing, just stood there, his eyes as dark and unfathomable as ever. Mulder found himself drowning in the silence. "I loved you. I trusted you." Mulder said at last, in a strangled tone. Still Skinner made no move, but every muscle in his body was stiff and taut. "One word from you…an explanation, and I could at least have peace of mind." Skinner's eyes never left his face, but they carried no message. "If not an apology, an explanation at least…" Mulder hated the way he was begging, hated the way Skinner's face remained set in granite, unmoving.

"I'm sorry then. If that will do." Skinner shrugged.

"No explanation?" Mulder whispered.

"The facts speak for themselves." Skinner shrugged again, almost dismissively.

"All right. Just one question - maybe you'll answer this. Did you do it?"

"Did I do what? Did I remove Storr from Federal protection? You know better than to expect me to answer that." Skinner shrugged. "In here? The walls have ears, Agent Mulder, and you could be wired."

"I just wanted to hear the truth from your own lips." Mulder angled his head even closer as if he could read the answer in the other man's flesh. "Tell me this then - were you working for the Consortium?"

Skinner held his gaze, did not waver as he gave his reply.

"Yes."

Mulder chewed on his lip, hesitated for one endless moment. "How long?" He asked. Skinner shrugged.

"A long time," he murmured.

"While we were together?" Mulder held his breath.

"Yes. Oh yes."

Mulder exhaled deeply, rocked back on his heels.

"And you stole the file, you did everything possible to prevent bringing them to justice?"

Skinner made no answer. He just stood there.

"Tell me. I'm not wired. Just tell me!" Mulder said, in an agonized tone. Skinner studied him for a moment, his gaze cool and detached.

"Yes." He said at last. Realization mingled with final loss of hope in Mulder's eyes.

"You betrayed me," he stated, flatly.

Skinner didn't hesitate. He nodded. "Yes," he said firmly. "I did."

Skinner saw the blow coming, but he didn't even try to duck it. He doubled over as Mulder's fist plunged into his stomach, then lay gasping for breath on the floor. He made no move to avoid the kick that smashed into his jaw. "You covered up their dirty rotten lies, their filthy rat tracks. You covered for them, and you betrayed me to do it." Mulder leaned over the other man's prone body, pressed his hands on either side of Skinner's head and pushed it back so that he was looking at him.

"Yes…" Skinner ground out, looking up into pain filled eyes, into a trust betrayed, and irrevocably broken, into the face of a man who had given up everything to someone he loved, and had it violated, twisted beyond recognition.

"I…loved…you…" Mulder said, unable to contain the emotions in his body. His hand reached out as if he wanted to console, to remove the imprints of his anger that were vivid in the other man's flesh, but his hand turned into a fist that punched hard against Skinner's cheek. Skinner's head snapped sideways from the force of the blow, but apart from that he didn't move, his dark eyes calm and still, no emotion in them. Mulder shook his head, nodded, the tears falling unchecked down his cheeks. "I loved you," he said again.

"Yes." Skinner made no move to wipe away the other man's tears.

"Don't you have anything to say to that?" Mulder asked in despair.

"I could say 'I love you' back. I could say that I still do. I won't though." Skinner shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you," he whispered softly.

"If I could kill you now, with my bare hands…I think I would." Mulder said, one finger touching the other man's bruised lip.

"If you wanted to - I wouldn’t stop you." Skinner smiled gently. "It might, in the end, be easier this way." Mulder's hand slipped down, circled Skinner's neck.

"A little light pressure…" Mulder squeezed gently, and Skinner closed his eyes, surrendering to the embrace, awaiting his death. Mulder stared into that acquiescent face, and remembered nights spent kissing those features, and days spent studying them in love and need. His fingers slackened, and he felt sickened. He got up, knocked on the door to be released, and left without looking back.

*****

It was a relief to take you out of the city, away to the sea. I love the sea, was born and brought up near it. I still miss the unceasing lap of waves against the shore, the sounds of the gulls circling in the sky, the spectacular sunsets over water. You seemed to appreciate all these too, enjoying these rare snatched moments away from the daily ordeal that is now your working life. I loved sharing my childhood with you, and when that brought memories of your own youth - less happy memories than mine - I was content to share those too. There is no part of you that needs to hide from me. I wish I could have said these things to your face, but of course I didn't. I sat next to you on the beach, my arm around your shoulder, and just listened. Was that good enough? I hope so. I hope also, that when I took you to bed, and made love to you as gently as I know how, that you knew why, and that in knowing, guessed what I could not say.

*****

Hoover Building.

"Mulder. I'm sorry. There's been…a development." Scully sounded distressed, and Mulder dragged himself blearily from his silent contemplation of the wall, and back into reality.

"What?" he asked.

"That was Detective Klein on the 'phone. They've found a body."

"Whose body?" Mulder asked. Scully's face made the answer clear.

"Mulder, it's Storr."

"That bastard."

Scully knew he wasn't referring to the dead man. "Mulder, forensics are working on it right now. There might not be any evidence that Skinner was involved in this."

"Oh, he's involved." Mulder got up, and pulled his jacket on. "He killed Storr, Scully, to prevent him from testifying against the entire consortium, and bringing this conspiracy out into the open once and for all."

"Mulder…" Scully followed on behind him, looking unhappy. "I know you don't trust Skinner…I know the evidence against him looks bad, but do you really believe this?"

"Yes." Mulder snapped, his expression savage.

"Why? Mulder…" She placed a hand on his arm. "Mulder - I'm not stupid, I've heard the rumors about you and Skinner. I heard the accusations that you made at the Internal Investigation. That you said he…that he abused his power over you." She couldn't find any other way of putting it. Mulder stopped, every muscle in his body trembling. "Mulder please, can't you talk to me about this?"

"He and I…he…and…I…" Mulder stopped, unable to continue.

"It's all right." Scully wrapped her arms around him, pulled him into a hug. "It's okay. I don't need to know, but if you were…involved…why do you now believe these things of him? I know we've had our run-ins with him over the years, but to suspect him of this…" she trailed off, her eyes searching Mulder's for answers.

"He did it." Mulder said simply.

"How do you know?"

"Because he admitted it." Mulder stated flatly, and his eyes were dark with a despair Scully had never seen in them before. "He was working for them all along."

*****

"Well we can do that one too," you grinned. "Where I come from, we seal solemn oaths in blood, so get carving. Unless you're squeamish…?" With a weary sigh at your sense of the dramatic, I cut my own thumb more circumspectly, and certainly with less enthusiasm (and correspondingly less blood). Then I endured the ridiculous farce of you pressing our thumbs together so the blood mingled while you made some stupid speech about pacts and oaths until I shut you up the only way I know how - with my lips.

*****

February 1, 2000.

The trial was over unexpectedly quickly. The case against Skinner lacked any detailed forensic evidence, but circumstantially there was enough to bring about a conviction. Mulder watched Skinner's face intently as the other man was sentenced to 12 years, but there was no trace of anything - no remorse, or anger, or fear. His face was impassive, and he only once glanced in Mulder's direction, then looked away again, his eyes telling Mulder nothing. Scully placed her hand in Mulder's, and squeezed gently, and he smiled at her, grateful for her concern, but there was nothing she could say or do that would lessen his pain. He got up and left the courtroom, walked outside. It was a bitterly cold day, the way it had been when his mother had died, a year ago today. Too much pain, too many losses. Mulder balled his hands into fists, and tried to laugh against the fates, tried not to think of Skinner in his prison uniform, staring his loss of freedom in the face. We're both prisoners now, he whispered, turning up the collar on his coat, and running down the steps two at a time, ignoring Scully's voice as she called to him.

"Mulder." She caught up with him. "Where are you going?"

"Home." He gave a faint smile. "Back home. To where she's buried."

"Your mother?" Scully put her hand through his arm. "Want me to come?"

"No. Yes." He felt a sudden need not to be alone. "It's the anniversary…"

"Yes. I know." Scully held on tight, and he was grateful for her warmth and compassion.

Mulder took a small bunch of yellow roses, and laid them by the neat headstone. Scully laid some lilies next to them.

"Thank you. You didn't need to…" Mulder murmured.

"I wanted to."

"It's been a long year." Mulder glanced around the stark, cold cemetery, his breath misting the air.

"Yes." Scully said simply. "But she was very ill, Mulder. The stroke was so severe - if she had lived she wouldn't have been able to lead a full life."

"Yes. I know. She'd have hated that. She was always so independent." Mulder smiled softly, kicking a stone off the grave with his toe.

"She died happy." Scully said. "With her children at her bedside."

"Yes." Mulder shrugged.

"Do you ever see…?" Scully began.

"No." He cut her off. "Never," he said tersely, and then he turned on his heel and left. "What the hell kind of emotional cripple am I?" he muttered to himself. "Is it me? Do I drive them all away?"

"Mulder?" Scully caught the tail end of this and pulled him around to face her.

"Well, Scully? What do I have to show for myself? My parents are dead, my little sister flits in and out of my life with an air of fucking dramatic mystery every couple of years, my lover was up to his neck in shit with my goddamn enemies…" His chest heaved, and he groped his way to a nearby bench, breathing too fast. "And now I'm having a fucking panic attack!" He laughed out loud at the final irony. "Thank you, God for leaving me without my dignity either."

*****

Forgive me, if you can, for I will not lay one more burden of guilt on your doorstep. My good deed, like Valjean, I shall perform in silence. My betrayal will, no doubt, be all too public.

*****

Hoover Building.

"I can't believe it. Are you sure?" Mulder glanced at Scully and she nodded. "It's only been just over a fucking year. He went down for murder for god's sake."

"And now he's been released." Scully shrugged. She handed Mulder a file and he flicked through the details.

"Looks like our friends in the Consortium have been busy pulling strings." Mulder spoke bitterly. "Nobody else would be able to spring him like this."

"Mulder, if they could do that, why didn’t they do it a year ago? Why allow him to serve any of his sentence?"

"I don't know." Mulder shook his head. "But I'm going to find out."

"Are you going to see him?" Scully asked.

"See him?" Mulder gave her a cold stare. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

He returned to his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, and paused for a moment, half expecting to find him here, waiting for him. No, not expecting - hoping. Still, after all this time, hoping for an explanation. Mulder went into his bedroom, opened his closet and rummaged around in the mess of shoes that were piled up there before finally pulling out the laptop. He found the battery, plugged it in, set the computer down on the coffee table and turned it on.

"Come on…come on…" He tapped his fingers against the table, then stared blankly at the files displayed on the screen as he had done so many times before. "Journal entry, 1^st September 1996. Journal entry, 14^th March 1997. Journal entry January 28^th 1999…" There were hundreds of them, listed neatly one after the other. Mulder sat there, staring at them for several long minutes, idly licking his thumb, and remembering the taste of blood. He finally gave up, and turned off the power with a flick of his fingers. "Just because you were a fucking bastard who can't keep faith with anything, doesn't mean I have to be," he growled, snapping the case shut and returning the computer to the closet. "There has to be another way."

*****

"Hmmm." The bastard considered this for a long while. "Very well. We have a deal. What is your favor, Mr. Skinner?"

*****

Krycek whistled to himself as he collected his mail, and unlocked the door to his apartment, turned on the light, noticed the note lying on the floor. He bent to retrieve it, his eyes widening as he read what was written on it: "Things are Looking Up", looked up himself, too late, as the barrel of Mulder's gun crashed into his jaw and sent him flying. He stared, stunned, at his assailant, as Mulder attached a handcuff to his good arm, and fastened him to the solid wooden leg of his couch, before sitting on said couch, his gun pointed at Krycek's head.

"You're well, I see, Alex," Mulder said pleasantly.

"Yeah. No thanks to you." Krycek ran his plastic hand gingerly over the raised lump on his jaw.

"I'm sorry, but this isn't a social call." Mulder smiled. "I want information."

"I was expecting you earlier," Krycek grunted.

"Earlier?" Mulder looked puzzled.

"Yeah, a year or so earlier." Krycek grinned. "When he was first arrested."

"Did you work with him? Did you report to him?" Mulder asked, curious about his ex lover's double life.

"Did I report to him?" Krycek laughed out loud. "He fucking well reported to me, Mulder. I held his life in my hands. It felt good."

"Why has he been released?" Mulder refused to be goaded. "Who pulled the strings?"

"Guess." Krycek made a face.

"Why now? Why not then?" Mulder asked, confused.

"To teach him a lesson?" Krycek shrugged. "He disobeyed orders by acting on his own initiative. That's pretty much discouraged in the company he was keeping."

"What did he do?"

"That guy you had in that safe house - the one who was going to testify?"

"Storr? Yes. What about him?" Mulder leaned forward eagerly.

"Skinner was told to terminate him. Instead, he tried to hide him. He sprung him from the safe house, took him someplace else. When they found out, they were pretty pissed. I was sent to rectify the situation. Storr took some finding. Skinner had him well hidden."

"You killed him? You killed Storr?"

"Yeah." Krycek shrugged. "Ancient history, Mulder."

"Why didn’t Skinner kill him?"

"Conscience?" Krycek suggested. "Skinner never was a killer."

"What about the other man, Officer Thomas - from the Jane Brophy case. Did Skinner kill him?"

"Thomas? No. Jesus, that was years ago, Mulder. Skinner wasn't even working for us then, not officially. That was some sort of one shot deal to help Scully, I think. Skinner didn't kill that guy. I told you, he isn't a killer."

"But he was working for the Consortium?"

"Well, yeah." Krycek shrugged. "He did pretty well for us too, for a while. Did what he was told, stole all the right evidence, covered up the rest. All the same, when the bosses found out about this one, the shit hit the fan. So they decided to teach him a lesson. That's when I was sent to give you that file on him, detailing his work for us, and the photographs of him with Storr on the night he took him out of the safe house."

"They allowed him to go to prison, just to teach him a lesson for not committing murder?" Mulder shook his head.

"Not just for that. They wanted to pile the pressure on you, and they succeeded. Skinner was just a pawn in the game. I guess it worked too, didn't it? Pretty much broke you, and removed your more powerful ally from the Bureau. We don't hear much from you these days, Mulder. What's the matter, is the Behavioral Science Unit too tame for you? Let's not forget dear little Agent Scully, back up to her armpits in stiffs in the Quantico mortuary. It couldn't be that much different to working with you I'll bet."

"She's happy enough." Mulder refused to rise to the bait.

"And you? Are you?" Krycek asked.

Mulder ignored him. "Skinner was sent down as part of a plan to break me?" He asked, trying to get the facts straight in his mind.

"Yeah, and partly to teach him a lesson, and of course somebody had to take the rap for that murder."

"And it's never you, is it?" Mulder whispered bitterly.

"Nope." Krycek grinned. "How about a kiss?" He leered. "For old time's sake."

Mulder answered him with a back-hander across the jaw and then left.

He returned to his apartment, and opened his closet, pulled out the laptop and turned it on.

"I'm sorry, Walter," he whispered, as he stared at the screen. His finger hovered for a moment, and then he highlighted the file dated May 20, 1998, and brought the journal entry up on screen.

*****

I had my answer.

*****

Mulder got to his feet as he saw Skinner approach, fighting the wave of anxiety that rose in his stomach, almost making him retch. Skinner looked well, despite his year in prison. He was wearing a pair of gray shorts, and a white vest. His long legs were bare, the muscles in them still rippling, still strong. His torso was still lean and hard, a few less hairs in the fringe around the back of his skull, and a few more of those that were gray. He was barefoot, his toes covered in sand.

"You're a hard person to find," Mulder whispered.

"How long have you been looking?" Skinner asked, climbing the steps to the tiny house, opening the door and holding it for his guest.

"Six months."

"Well, that's not bad then - it means I've managed to hide myself relatively well, but if you managed to find me, they can too. I suppose I'll have to move on again."

"The Consortium?"

"Yes. Who else? Iced tea? Coffee?"

"Tea." Mulder nodded. "You don't work for them any more?"

"Let's just say they don't have the same leverage over me that they once did." Skinner shrugged.

"They could still kill you, if they wanted, though?" Mulder took the mug that Skinner offered him. "I suppose they hope that you might be of use to them again one day?"

Skinner's face was set in stone. He made no reply. "It's all right. I know." Mulder whispered. "I know everything."

"I doubt that." Skinner sat down.

"That's why I came here, and to say I'm sorry. I know it's too late - I'm not asking you to take me back. I don't deserve that."

"You always looked for rejection where there was none." Skinner struggled with the words. "Always wanted to…to…push away before you were pushed out."

"Yes." Mulder bowed his head.

"And I…I don't have the goddamn words." Skinner got up, prowled around the house like an angry dog. "Can never say anything. At work…it was easy. I understood that territory, not when talking about myself, and you and what…what I feel. I once came to you, asked you…told you…wanted you not to resign. I had to rehearse that speech. I wrote it down. I told myself it was work, and, I didn't want to lose a good agent, but I knew it was more than that. I desperately needed to convince you. I'm not very good with speeches from the heart."

"Maybe not, but you can write." Mulder said softly. "That's how I know." Skinner stared at him for a moment, his eyes registering a kind of dull horror. Then he left, abruptly.

Mulder chewed on his lip, thought about it for a moment, and then followed. Skinner was sitting outside on the top step, gazing at the billowing gray clouds scudding across the sea.

"There'll be a storm later," he said. Mulder nodded, sat down beside him, his denim encased thigh touching Skinner's bare leg.

"I didn't do it for a long while, not until six months ago. I took the laptop from your apartment on the night they arrested you, but I never once looked. I didn't do that, Walter."

"Yes. Thank you." Skinner said absently, gazing at the darkening sky.

"No. You don't understand." Mulder rested his head in his hands. "I didn't do it for you. I hated you. I did it because I wanted to prove in some small, useless way, that I was better than you. By not looking, by keeping that ridiculous oath - that was my way of being the better man, of wallowing in self-righteousness, when all along you had done this thing for me, sold yourself to those people for me. You threw yourself to the wolves for me, and the first time someone came along and told me you were dirty, I believed them."

"It was true though." Skinner absently brushed his bare feet, dislodging some of the sand that still clung to them. "I was dirty, and the evidence was all there. Of course you believed it. Why wouldn't you?"

"Because I should have believed in you."

"I didn't ask you to. I thought it would be better if you didn't know what I'd done for you. I didn't want this. I didn’t want your guilt. You had enough of that already."

"You said, in your journal, that you were a shadow to me, that I didn't know you properly. I think maybe, that we were both shadows to each other. I would never have wanted you to do what you did for me, what they had you do…"

"Fox I was already dead." Skinner said impatiently. "I have these fucking nanocytes inside me. They can pull the trigger any time they want to. What I did, I did because I knew that. The details don't matter."

"Ah well, the devil, as my mother used to say, is in the detail."

"Damn. You're saying it's my fault? For not…being able to tell you…share… more of…myself with you…" Skinner stopped, then got up, his whole body shaking as if from some giant effort. "Fuck you. I can't…I'm not like you, I don't say things easily, and when I do they damn well mean something."

"Whereas I'm the shallow bastard who betrayed you, the first chance I had?"

"I never…I have never…fuck this. I'm going for a walk." Skinner jumped down onto the sand, his whole body quivering with unexpressed emotion. He walked a few steps, and then stopped.

"Well?" He asked. "Are you coming?" Mulder gave a wan smile and got up. "Take your shoes off." Skinner commanded. "Then you can feel the sea on your feet."

"That's a good thing right?" Mulder grinned. He rested his head for a second against Skinner's shoulder. "It's been a while since you gave me any orders," he murmured.

"You never obeyed them then, either." Skinner grunted, glancing at Mulder's shoes, which still resolutely encased his feet.

"Oh. Right." Mulder gave a charming grin, and pulled his sneakers off without untying the laces, ignoring Skinner's expression of disapproval. He threw his socks down on top of them then stared at the other man expectantly. "Tell me that your fingers aren't itching to ball the socks up, and tuck them tidily into one of the sneakers?" He taunted. Skinner gave a little barking laugh. "See, maybe we know each other better than we think," Mulder said. Skinner shrugged, and walked briskly to the sea, allowed the waves to wash up to his ankles. Mulder followed him, over-reacting theatrically to the cold water, clinging, for just a second, to the other man's arm. He was encouraged when he wasn't immediately shaken off, but Skinner made no move to touch him. They began to walk.

"How did you find this place?" Mulder asked. "It's kind of…bleak."

"Yes. I didn't exactly want to be in the center of a tourist attraction. I'm hiding." Skinner reminded him. "Or at least I was. They'll be here soon."

"Why do you…oh. You think they followed me." Mulder deduced.

"What made you start looking for me?"

"I was angry. I couldn't figure out why you had been released from prison so soon. I tracked down Krycek. He told me that you didn't kill Storr. Or Thomas."

"Of course I didn't." Skinner reacted angrily. "But did you ever wonder how you managed to find him? And why he gave you that information so easily?"

"Well I did have a gun aimed at his head." Mulder pointed out. "But…I see what you mean. Sounds like they have a job for you, and they wanted me to find you, to save them the effort?"

"Yes." Skinner picked up the pace. In the distance a dog began to bark. "The fact that they arranged for my release at all suggests they have something they wish me to do."

"Luckily I took some precautions then." Mulder grinned. "Hey, I'm not stupid, Walter, although I guess you might dispute that. I did manage to figure this out on my own. I actually found you 6 weeks ago. I made some very careful plans, and believe me, I came here by a very circuitous route." Skinner turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Via Africa." Mulder added and he was rewarded with another of those snorting laughs.

"Glad to see you still have some sense left in that thick skull." Skinner remarked.

They reached Mrs. Jardine's house and the old lady came to the door and waved.

"I'm going for a walk. Do you want me to take Ben?" Skinner asked.

"Oh would you? Thank you." The old lady said. Skinner smiled and opened the gate. Ben rushed around him excitedly for a moment before settling into a trot at Skinner's heels.

"Hey, you look good with a dog. This is definitely an accessory that suits you." Mulder grinned. "Didn't you ever think of getting one of your own?"

"No." Skinner frowned. "I don't want to get close to anything. I don't want to lose anything again."

"Why? Are you worried about waking up to find it dead in the bed beside you - like that horse in The Godfather?" Mulder pressed. "That's a hard path you've chosen there, Walter."

"Mulder, I won't risk it. I'm fine alone." There was a flash of something angry, something sad in his eyes.

Mulder stopped. "I'm sorry. I suppose I never saw the fear before," he said.

"I never let you. My fault. You always wanted me to be strong for you. I was always just a shoulder to cry on, someone to hold you up when you were tired of it all, someone to rescue you. I can understand that."

"We could change the plot. I could rescue you this time." Mulder took his life, and Skinner's face in his hands, moving forward for a gentle kiss. Skinner stood there unmoving, unresisting, yet unresponsive. When it was over, he pulled away, carried on walking.

"Let's hope Mrs. Jardine didn't see that." Mulder grinned. "She'll start wondering about her next door neighbor."

"She's nearly blind." Skinner muttered tersely. "That's why she can't walk Ben any more. I'm happy to take him with me. Anyway, I already told her that I was in prison, so a kiss shouldn't come as a shock to her after that."

"You told her you were in prison?" Mulder didn't know why he was surprised.

"Of course."

"Did you tell her what for?"

Skinner stopped, turned, allowed Mulder to catch up, his expression pained.

"Murder? Yes."

"She's not afraid of you?" Mulder thought he would have been if someone this tall, grim, and imposing with a murder conviction had moved in next door.

"No, but then she's blind." Skinner remarked, his face deadpan. It took Mulder a while to realize he'd made a joke and then he doubled over, laughing.

"Yeah. If she could see you she sure as hell wouldn't sleep easy in her bed at night. But then…I've heard blind people can sense what people are truly like - maybe she sees your gentle soul."

"You're still full of crap, you know that?" Skinner cuffed Mulder playfully. "Some things never change."

"Dogs don't like me, or cats." Mulder commented wistfully. "I don't have a still center. I'm too fidgety and excitable."

"Ah, so that explains those poor fish," Skinner remarked. "Presumably the tank insulates them against all these weird energy vibes you give off." It was Mulder's turn to cuff him then.

They stopped and sat, tiny droplets of rain falling from the gray sky. Mulder picked up some stones, and threw them into the sea. Ben chased them hopefully, and unsuccessfully, into the surf.

"I lost the X Files." Mulder said in the midst of the silence. "It's amazing how quickly your career can go down the tubes once you admit to sleeping with your male boss."

"Hmm. Well, despite who that building was named after, the FBI is hardly a bastion of open minded tolerance." Skinner shrugged. "That was always a really dumb move."

"I wanted to hurt you."

"Yes, well, if it's any consolation, you did."

"You didn't seduce me."

"Maybe I did."

"No. Anyway, I kind of lost interest in the X Files. The fight went out of me after you... I used to have nightmares of you in prison."

"Me?" Skinner turned, surprised. Mulder's hair was blowing in the wind, his hazel eyes were troubled.

"Yes. You belong to wide open spaces, like here." Mulder waved his hand around. "I always used to think of your office as a kind of prison for you too. You were too big, had too much energy. It contained you, restricted you. I used to think you did all that boxing to get the frustrations at being so confined out of your system."

They were silent again, then Mulder asked, because he needed to know.

"What was it like?"

"Prison? Pretty much as you predicted actually. The guards hated my guts, the other inmates viewed me as the enemy. I fought a couple of battles, established a reputation as being too big and ugly to screw around with, and then they left me pretty much alone after that. I didn't exactly make any friends in there, and no, I didn't find anyone to keep me warm at night either."

"Shit." Mulder flinched as he remembered that conversation, and how he had lost control, and lashed out. "I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Me too." Skinner got up, stretched out his muscles. "Come on. It's pissing down."

They walked back to the house together, dropped Ben off on the way.

"You know…" Mulder began. "I've had a lot of knocks in my life, but I'm pretty tough."

"Yeah, you seem to bounce back okay."

"I was unfair to you. You don't always need to be the tough guy, and I don't always need your protection."

Skinner glanced at him with a raised eyebrow as they reached the house.

"I mean it. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, I react strongly to everything. It's just who I am. I look like I'm about to fall apart, but inside I'm pure steel." Mulder grinned. "I must be to have kept going this long. You, on the other hand," he pressed close to Skinner, put his arms on his shoulders, "are exactly the opposite. Everyone thinks you're so hard but inside…"

"I'm harder still." Skinner stated implacably, disengaging himself.

Mulder shook his head, chuckling. "You don’t fool me, big guy. Not any more. I've, uh, got something for you. In the car."

"Go get it then. I'll get changed, and fix us some lunch. You hungry?"

"Always." Mulder smiled. He returned a few moments later with the laptop, placed it on the rickety kitchen table, glancing at the other man appreciatively. Skinner was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that hugged his ass, and an old green shirt. He paused in the middle of making some untidy sandwiches, and glared at the computer.

"You can start writing again." Mulder said. "I bet you stopped."

"There's nothing much to say any more." Skinner shrugged.

"I don't believe that." Mulder took a bite of his sandwich. "I…uh…quit the Bureau." Mulder looked at the other man from under his eyelashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Hmm." Skinner grunted.

"And I lied earlier." Mulder bit on his lip. "When I said I wasn't going to ask you take me back. My bags are in the car."

"I know." Skinner shrugged.

"How the hell…?" Mulder asked, outraged.

"Because I know you. We both know each other better than we think. You've been cozying up to me since you got here, anyway."

"This time it can be different." Mulder stated firmly. They stared at each other for a long while.

"Ammunition. This is, presumably, exactly what they want." Skinner murmured.

"Yes. Maybe. It doesn't matter so long as it's what we want."

"No." Skinner whispered the word softly. "You don't get to do this again, Mulder. You do not get to walk into my life with your quest, and make me care about you again. You don't get to always call the shots and…" he paused, breathing heavily.

"And what? Don't pull any punches. Say what you feel," Mulder pressed, getting up. "I was always in the dark with you. If I loved a shadow it was because you never let me see the real person underneath. Then you wondered why I believed Krycek when he told me…"

"No. I don't wonder that. I know why you believed him. I never did anything, never said anything, never gave you any explanations…" Skinner shouted. "It was only afterwards that I realized I wanted you to trust me just because of what I meant to you. I hoped that you always saw in my actions what I could never express in words. I was so busy being a fucking martyr that I never woke up to the fact that I wanted you to love me the way I loved you, and the bottom line is that you didn't. When it really mattered, you couldn't do that for me. Nothing's changed, Mulder." He stopped speaking, ran out of steam, shaking from the effort of the speech.

Mulder nodded, kept nodding, finally pressed his lips against Skinner's cheek.

"You're right," he whispered. "I'll go." He shook his head sadly. "You did deserve better."

"So did you." Skinner turned his back on the other man, busied himself clearing up the half eaten remains of their lunch. When he finally turned around, Mulder was gone.

Skinner sat down, opened the laptop, pulled up some of the entries and read them. As the afternoon faded into early evening, he took a can of beer, and went to sit on the steps, gazing out at the raging sea, the wind churning great swathes of foam on the surface. He sat there for a long while, and then finally got up, and went down to the water's edge. The rain pounded down on his bare head, and hid the tears falling down his cheeks. His shirt was soaked before he even got to the sea.

"We'd better get your stuff from the car before the storm gets any worse." He yelled over the howling gale.

Mulder turned, shivering, his shirt and jeans sticking to his body, up to his knees in the freezing water. Skinner pulled him close, his mouth devouring Mulder's, his large arms encircling Mulder's cold, wet body and pulled him into a warm bear hug. The sound of the storm rose around them, and the sea churned the sand underfoot, but neither one moved, their faces locked together for several long minutes. Finally, Skinner broke the embrace, pulled Mulder by the arm past the house, to Mulder's car, and helped him bring in his bags.

"Not much for a lifetime." Mulder commented, glancing at the small pile of luggage.

"Travel light. It's the best way." Skinner grunted. "You're wet. Come here. You should get warm." He lit a fire in the grate. "Strip," he ordered.

Mulder grinned. "Want to help?"

"You mean you can't manage it by yourself at your age?" Skinner deadpanned back. Then he reached out a big hand, and caught Mulder's shirt, unbuttoned it, his fingers softly touching the other man's damp skin. He ran his hands through Mulder's wet hair, squeezing the worst of the water from it, then unbuttoned Mulder's jeans. Mulder kicked them off, didn't move as Skinner's hands reached into the waistband of his boxers, pushed them down to find his already erect cock.

"You are such a slut," Skinner murmured.

"Only with you." Mulder grinned, eager fingers finding the buttons on Skinner's shirt, smothering the other man's face with kisses as he undid them, and eased the shirt from Skinner's broad shoulders. "I have missed this so much." Mulder buried his head in Skinner's chest, teased a nipple with his tongue. "Your body…so solid…so you." He undid Skinner's jeans, slid down onto his knees and found Skinner's cock, which pulsed into life the moment his warm, wet mouth closed around it. Skinner sank his hands into Mulder's damp hair, holding on as Mulder took him whole, deep-throating him until he sighed with pleasure, and bucked hard into Mulder's throat, coming forcefully.

"Quicker than I remember." Mulder remarked, licking some of the other man's come from his lips.

"It's been a while," Skinner confessed.

"Not even with Mr. Hand?" Mulder asked, jokingly.

"I was never in the mood." Skinner shrugged, serious, quiet. "Not for a long while anyway." He pulled Mulder up, kissed his lips gently.

"Lie down." Mulder said, throwing a blanket from the couch onto the floor in front of the fire. Skinner gazed at him uncertainly. "I told you, I can take care of you. Yes?"

Skinner nodded, lying down as ordered. Mulder sat astride him, kissed the other man's naked head, licked behind his ears, down to his collarbone. He held Skinner's arms above his head, and plunged down onto his mouth, kissing him forcefully, and Skinner surrendered everything to the embrace. Mulder licked and nibbled for several long minutes, working over every inch of Skinner's body, re-discovering those areas where Skinner was sensitive, and lavishing them with attention. He spread Skinner's thighs, and positioned the other man's long legs over his shoulders, as he inserted his fingers inside him, rubbing softly. Skinner's dark eyes never left Mulder's hazel ones as Mulder pushed his erect cock into Skinner's waiting body, drew Skinner's firm hips close, and thrust deep inside him.

"Is this okay?" Mulder moved gently inside his lover, and Skinner nodded, his eyes still locked with Mulder's.

"It's good…keep going…" he whispered. Mulder did, but not for long as Skinner's warm, strong body swallowed him, and he came, leaning down over his lover for a long, lingering kiss.

"I love you," Mulder said softly. "I never stopped. I never could."

Skinner gave a small, uncertain smile. "Yes." Was all he said.

*****

September 16, 2001.

Mulder woke feeling stiff and satisfied. It took him a moment to remember where he was, then he heard the gulls crying in the wind outside, and smiled to himself. He got up and pulled on Skinner's robe, wondered where the other man was. He wandered into the kitchen, and found the note on top of the laptop.

"You can read this whenever you want. It's written for you, anyway. It always was. W."

Mulder smiled, and poured himself some orange juice, sat down, and opened the laptop.

One thing I do know is that while I'm out jogging I'll be thinking of you, and for the first time since I moved here, I'll be looking forward to coming home.

Mulder smiled, closed the laptop, and got dressed. Then he wandered out onto the steps of the beach house and sat there, gazed at the sea, and the sand, and waited for his lover to return home.

THE END

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