Skinner gripped the edges of the podium and tried to steady his nerves. It was weird. He didn't normally get stage fridge, but the tightness is his chest just wouldn't go away. The notion passed through his mind that it might have something to do with a certain special agent in the audience. The thought both terrified and thrilled him.
He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.
And dropped to his knees.
In an instant the tightness in his chest had exploded like a bomb into an excruciating pain that radiated out of every one of his pores. Skinner grasped blindly for the podium as the world around him went white and unknown. And yet, it was vaguely… familiar.
In the audience, Doggett watched horrified as Skinner lost all color and dropped to the ground. Scully was up immediately, her medical kicking training kicking in as she shoved her way through the shocked crowd. A roar broke out as 100 agents reached, but Doggett could only vaguely hear it over the pounding in his brain.
He felt a hand on his elbow and turned to see Mulder standing there, honest concern having replaced his usual smirk for once. Doggett blindly followed Mulder until they were both knelling by Scully and Skinner. He heard snippets of what Scully was saying – 'heart attack' stood out pretty strong – but was almost completely consumed by Walter's face.
The big man was laid out on his back, sweat starting to bead along his temple, his chest heaving up in irregular patterns as he tried to breathe. Somewhere in the mayhem his glasses had been knocked off and his eyes were hazy and unfocused.
"Walt –" he stopped himself, cleared his throat. "AD Skinner?"
"You know, Skinner –" John was interrupted by a hand on his mouth.
"John. You're naked right now."
John stared up at the bigger man. "Um, yeah. I noticed."
"Do you think that maybe we could leave the last names, and for the love of pete, the titles, at the front door? Or at the very least out of the bedroom?"
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay." He swallowed. "Okay. Walt."
"Walter," Skinner corrected.
"Walter," John repeated. "Okay, Walter."
"Thank you, John."
An anguished howl ripped from Skinner's throat as his back arched up in pain. Doggett fell back on his ass like he had been shoved over.
Scully moved in front of him, yelling for Mulder to hold Skinner down so she could investigate. She reached up and yanked off Walter's tie, pulling open the buttons on the crisp dress shirt.
Doggett reached up, shook loose the blue tie. "This thing. Us," he said casually as he popped loose the buttons on Walter's shirt. "It's going pretty good."
Walter smiled slowly. "Yeah," he agreed. "It is."
Doggett squeezed his eyes shut and willed down the memory and the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Then he heard Scully whisper, "oh, God."
His eyes snapped open. Scully had shoved up Walter's undershirt. Across the wide expanse of skin was a black web, a growing network of dark veins crawling in every direction. It throbbed and pulsed. The sight made John gag.
"What the hell is that?" he bellowed.
When he didn't get an answer he grabbed Scully's arm, but she was looking at Mulder in that way they had, that silent communication that made him feel completely out of the loop. He shook her, hard. "Tell me!"
Scully yanked her arm loose. "There had to have been someone else involved," she was saying. "Someone working with him."
"Unless…"
"Mulder!" Scully snapped. "He's dead. You saw it happen. He would have killed you otherwise."
"Who…" Then he remembered that night in the garage of the Hoover Building. Remembered Walter's face after he pulled the trigger. "Krycek," he said quietly.
"The rat bastard himself," Mulder swore before turning back to Scully. "Well if it's someone else we have to find him now. The hospital couldn't help him last time. They're not going to be able to help now."
"Last time?' He looked down at Walter's helpless face. "Please. Dana. What is this?"
"Nano-technology," she finally answered. "Krycek injected them into his bloodstream. He uses a remote device to control their activity. When he activates them…" she swallowed. "They build thousands of walls in his veins and arteries. And we can't stop it." She looked to Mulder for help.
"They declared him dead last time," Mulder said baldly. "Only Krycek turning them off brought him back."
Dead… Doggett looked down to Skinner. His face was grimaced in what most people would think was pain but what Doggett knew to be something else. Shame. Shame at not being in control. Shame at being at the whim of someone like Alex Krycek. John understood.
"I didn't have to do that. Bring him back."
The three agents froze. It wasn't possible. But there was no mistaking that low, gravelly voice.
"I might not do it this time."
In unison, 100 FBI agents drew their guns. Krycek grinned and waved what looked like a palm pilot. Scully held up a hand. Don't shoot.
"It all depends on how this goes, I guess."
Mulder flew up, fists flying, his standard reaction to Krycek. Krycek just pushed a button and behind him Skinner's entire body contorted. John watched a black tendril shoot up across Walter's neck, curling behind an ear, right past a little red mark.
"Quit it," Skinner groused half-heartedly. "Shirt collar doesn't reach that high."
"Maybe I should find another spot to suck on," John suggested, waggling an eyebrow.
Skinner had laughed until John followed through.
"Mulder, stop," Scully demanded. "You're hurting him."
"He's hurting him," Mulder yelled back. "And I intent to stop it."
"Mulder, let go!"
Mulder release his grip on Krycek's lapel but stepped forward so that the two men where inches apart. "What the hell do you think you're doing," Mulder growled.
Krycek grinned, a brilliant white smile. "What, no, 'nice to see you'? No, 'last time I saw you, you were dead'?"
"I preferred you better that way," Mulder spit out.
Krycek laughed, then gestured around the room. "Get them out."
100 sets of eyes flicked over to Scully and Mulder. She nodded. "Leave."
"Agent Scully – "
"I said leave."
Krycek whistled as the other agents backed out slowly. "Little Agent Scully. Look at you." He stepped around Mulder and knelt down beside Scully. He reached out and wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. She didn't flinch. "Looks good long," he said conversationally.
"Why are you doing this, Krycek?"
"Oh come on!" Krycek stood and looked around. "Really? Nobody wants to know why I'm not dead?"
"Damn it, Krycek –"
"Yes, Mulder, I know." Krycek sighed impatiently. "You really haven't changed, have you? You know, for a man who's always asking questions, you never want to listen to the answers. Luckily, Mulder…" he turned away and his green eyes met John's blue ones. "I'm not here for you."
John's heart pounded ever harder, rage and adrenaline and fear pulsing through his body. He slowly stood and studied the man standing before him. "And what," he stated slowly, "do you want from me?"
Krycek smiled again, a different smile. Full of satisfaction.
John yelped. "You bit me! And you're smiling!"
"Schadenfreude," Walter stated.
"Schada-what?"
"Schadenfreude. Enjoyment in the discomfort of others."
John grunted. "Glad I could be of amusement, you masochist," he said sourly.
Walter chuckled and kissed the spot he had bit. "Better?"
Schadenfreude, John thought. That fit Alex Krycek to a T.
Krycek nodded towards Mulder. "The dynamic duo already filled you in on some of it. Really is fantastic technology. Nothing medical science can do but sit there until I choose to flip a switch." He pulled a mischievous face. "The Russians, of course."
John's fists clenched on their own accord. "Why?" he gritted out.
Krycek frowned. "Agent. That's a stupid question and you know it. I needed someone on the inside to get what I needed done. The problem with old Walt here…" he nudged Walter's leg with his foot and John had to grab the podium to keep from knocking him out cold. "Is that he would rather die than submit. He almost did."
John couldn't help the wave of pride that washed over him.
"So I backed off. Got shot. Died. Came back." The last two words came out louder and Krycek looked pointedly at Mulder as he said them. "And as I was recovering, it occurred to me that while Walter would never submit, if Walter found someone… fell in love…" He stepped over Skinner's legs and came nose-to-nose with John. "Well, then that would be a whole other ballgame."
That smile came back. Schadenfreude.
"Because if that person cared enough… I could make them do most anything."
John's stomach rolled violently. It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe.
Unperturbed, Krycek continued. "Truthfully, I couldn't be sure anyone would show up. I mean, the old man's social life wasn't exactly hopping. But if you had told me that when the person did show up, it would be a 6 foot 4 ex-Marine special agent with a crew-cut and a dick…" He laughed, delighted. "Oh, I wouldn't have believed it. I tell you, Johnny. I've never won the lottery. Never had much good luck at all. But this…" He touched a finger to John's sternum. "This makes up for it all."
John could feel the fire burning up through his cheeks, his neck, his stupid ears. His hands came up.
"Stop."
A pained whisper broke the trance. Krycek and Doggett turned in unison. "Stop," Skinner repeated.
Doggett dropped down next to Skinner. But the other man kept his gaze trained on Krycek, who stepped slowly around and lowered himself to one knee. "What's that?" he asked innocently.
"Leave John alone." Each word was agony but Skinner refused to look away. "I'll do it. Whatever you want."
"Walter, no," John said as firmly as he could. Skinner ignored him.
Krycek chuckled. "Oh, Walter." He laid his prosthetic arm on Skinner's cheek. "Walter, you had your chance. And you said no. So now it's John's turn."
Krycek leaned down, his lips brushing Skinner's ear.
John leaned down, his knees pressing into Walter's hips. Ran his fingers along Walter's outstretched arms. "You did this to me, you know," he whispered, grinning as Walter shivered at the warm breath on his ear. "It's all your fault."
"And it's all your fault."
John felt his whole body sag. Swore he could hear the sound of Walter's heart breaking.
Satisfied, Krycek sat back on his haunches and slapped a knee. "So. Let's get on with this. Nothing big today. Just a little test."
Doggett didn't really hear him. He had given into his first instinct and wiped the sweat from Skinner's brow. The tears from his cheek. Skinner just stared dead-eyed at an unfixed point in the distance.
"Agent Doggett." He flinched as Krycek snapped his fingers in front of his face. "Up here." John glared. "Stand. Up."
John did so, slowly.
"Take out your gun."
John looked at him dumbly.
"Take out your gun." Krycek repeated slowly.
John reached to his belt, unclipped the holder, and pulled out the black Sig Sauer. His gun had never shaken in his hand like this, not even in training. Not even in Beirut.
"Now you're going to kill someone."
That feeling he couldn't breathe again. "What?" he whispered.
"I need to know I can could on you. Like those team-building exercises. You know. 'Fall back. Trust your partner'. That crap."
"And if I don't listen?"
"If you don't, Walter dies," Krycek stated. "It's very, very easy, John. The most straight-forward decision you'll make all year. Shoot, Walter lives. Don't shoot, Walter dies." He reconsidered. "I should say, kill, Walter lives. No shooting for the shoulder or I'll have to start calling you Agent Scully." He chuckled at his own joke.
"Why shouldn't I just shoot you?"
Krycek rolled his eyes. "Agent. Suicide switch, obviously. My thumb comes up – my thumb, mind you, my fingerprint – and the ballgame's over."
"And how do I know…" John swallowed hard. Had to force himself to even think the words. "How do I know you won't just kill Walter anyway?"
"Well…" Krycek considered the question. "Really, you don't. I could give you my word, but I doubt you'd take it. What I can tell you with certainty is, if you don't, he will die." That smile again. "Does that answer your question?"
John couldn't even begin to form a response.
"Tell you what. You get five minutes to think about it while I find our participant. Then we'll see." Krycek tapped his wrist. "Time starts now."
John watched Krycek walk away, then dropped down next to Walter and grabbed his hand. Laid his forehead against Walter's shoulder and tried not to fall to pieces.
"Oh, John," Walter whispered. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."
John shook his head and raised it to look into big brown eyes. "He's got you pegged you know," he said ruefully. "Knows you'll sacrifice yourself before surrendering."
Walter pursed his lips.
"But I bet even he's surprised he's figured me out."
Walter's eyes narrowed in confusion. Then a light went on and Walter's entire face contorted in horror. "No. John, no."
"Ssh." He laid a hand on Walter's face, stroked his thumb along the cheekbone. "I have to."
Skinner shook his head back and forth violently. "No." He glanced over, desperate. "Scully. Mulder. Stop him."
Doggett turned to his partner. Agent Scully, always so composed and proper. The tears were streaming down her face and she was gripping Mulder's arm for dear life. John looked up, met Mulder's eyes. The other man held his gaze, pulled Scully a little closer, and laid his cheek on her head. Nodded, almost imperceptibly.
John nodded back. Mulder understood. Would do the same thing for Dana. A smile flitted across his face. Finally, he thought. Something me and Mulder can agree on.
"I have to try," John repeated. His voice cracked and he stroked Walter's face. "I have to try and save you."
Walter reached up with what little strength he had and grasped an ear, trying to pull John down.
Walter ran a hand up John's neck, then playfully tugged an ear. John had been moody all week. "Come here," Walter soothed. "Let me make it better."
"Save you," Walter gasped out. "You."
John shook his head, gently pulled Skinner's arm down. He leaned over so that their foreheads touched.
"Walter," He whispered, "don't you understand there's no chance of saving me without you?"
Underneath him, Skinner's eyes slammed shut and he sobbed. John murmured softly, kissed his forehead, his wet cheeks. Kissed his lips and for a moment felt Walter calm.
He looked at Skinner in shock. "Did you just –"
"I did."
"Did you – what – " John realized he was asking stupid questions and grabbed Skinner, yanking him forward and kissing him again. He felt Walter's hands grip his hips.
Big hands, he thought, wrapping his hands around the nape of Walter's neck. Strange.
As he pulled away, gasping, Walter's mouth formed a decidedly un-directorly smile. "Oh boy," he breathed. "You are going to be fun, I know it."
John closed his eyes and ran his hands over Walter's scalp. "I love you," he said softly. Heard Walter say it in return. That was all he needed.
When he opened his eyes again, the pain and sadness were gone, replaced by only determination. A soldier. John Doggett, US Marine Corps.
Skinner recognized it immediately and his chest shook. "John," he begged.
John kissed Walter's palm and laid it down. He could feel Walter's hands grasping at his pant leg as he stood and stepped around Walter. Krycek was standing by the door, waiting.
The hand and gun had stopped shaking.
"What now," he asked flatly.
Krycek's eyebrow quirked up and he gave a short laugh. "Semper Fi, eh?"
John didn't respond.
"Okay, soldier." His arm dipped out of the door and then someone else flew in, a blur in blue and red. "Let's see how well you do following orders."
John's heart sunk a little lower. Arlene. Walter's secretary. His right hand girl. Leave it to Krycek to pick her out of the crowd. I'm sorry, Arlene, he thought. Tightened his grip on the gun. I'll make it quick, I promise.
Krycek saw the reaction flit across Doggett's face. "Appropriate, right? You know, I always thought it was funny how much she looks like our girl Dana. You ever notice that, John?"
John had.
Walter's eyes crinkled up, half amused, half confused. "You think I hired my secretary because of some deep-seeded attraction to Agent Scully?"
John mumbled incoherently.
"Well, ignoring the fact that Arlene was around long before Scully…" He ran his hand down John's bare chest. "In case you haven't noticed, Arlene's not exactly my type."
"And why's that?" John gasped as Walter's hand dipped lower.
"Obvious." Walter grinned wickedly. "I don't like redheads."
Krycek reached up, twisted a lock of hair just as he had done with Scully. "I guess now we can end a lot of the speculation about you two," he joked, winking at Arlene. He paused. "Did you know? About your boss and his favorite agent?"
Arlene shook her head.
"No? Just Mulder and Scully knew." He snorted. "There's a double-date for the ages!"
Arlene stared back in horror.
"Okay. Enough is enough." Krycek stepped away. John could see Arlene was about to faint. Her hand was gripping the edge of a busser's cart that had been left next to a half-cleared table. Resting next to one of the buckets was a knife that had been used by a waiter carving the prime rib.
Something akin to hope sparked in John's brain.
"Let's get to it, soldier," Krycek snapped.
A plan was forming in his mind. He just needed an extra minute to get there.
"Doggett," Krycek warned.
"Can I say goodbye?" John blurted out. "If I'm gonna kill her, at least let me say I'm sorry."
Krycek's eyes narrowed in extreme annoyance. "Pull any shit and a lot more people will die. Make it quick."
Doggett looked past Krycek to Mulder. Caught his eye and pleaded silently. Distract Krycek. Just for a moment.
Mulder blinked back.
Doggett stepped towards Arlene. She recoiled, tears running down her face. "Please," she begged.
"I'm sorry," John croaked. "I'm so sorry." He grabbed her hand. "Please forgive me." Gave a tiny tug on her arm.
Her eyes flicked down.
"You know Krycek, I knew you were capable of a lot of things." Mulder's voice cut through the thick air. "But even I didn't think even you could do this."
"Shut it, Fox," Krycek snapped back.
Arlene looked back up at Doggett. He stared at her, praying to anyone and anything that she had seen what he saw. Then she gave a small cry and fainted, right into the cart.
"What the hell!" Krycek shot over but Doggett reached out first, yanking Arlene back up towards him. He stifled a yelp as the knife blade cut into his stomach before coming to rest in his inner jacket pocket. Relief flooded through his brain.
"I said no bullshit," Krycek hollered. Arlene grabbed at Doggett's tie and looked him dead in the eye. "Please," she repeated, voice lower.
Doggett knew she wasn't asking for her life anymore.
"Get off." Krycek shoved her back and stood in front of John. Behind them, Skinner roared and then went silent. Dead silent.
"Walt's got no heartbeat right now, soldier. So you better make up your mind fast."
John looked into angry green eyes. "Yes sir," he spit out. Raised his arm and fired.
Arlene cried out and dropped. Krycek's face registered a look of surprise. In his excitement turned to see for himself.
John's gun clattered as it hit the floor. He pulled the knife out of his pocket and gripped Krycek's hand, the one holding the palm pilot. Felt the bones and tendons moving under the skin.
Walter had been rubbing his wrist all day.
"Old war wound?"
"Oh yeah." Walter snorted. "War with my skis. Broke it on the slopes when I was 17."
John massaged the joint tenderly, feeling where the hand and arm bones came together. "Anything I can do?" he asked. Walter just shrugged.
John slid up closer. "I bet I can take my mind off of it."
Doggett felt the joint. Sunk the knife into the wrist at the meeting point, pining the arm to a nearby table.
Krycek howled in pain, struggling to flee his wrist. His prosthetic arm hung by his side, useless.
With one hand on the knife, Doggett reached out and grabbed Krycek by the collar. Crystal-clear blue eyes met startled green ones and for a moment everything was quiet. Then John spoke.
"You are never going to hurt him again."
John threw Krycek back and levered down the knife with all his strength, slicing through skin and cartilage and bone until the hand severed completely. Looked up in time to something in Krycek's eyes sputter out and die.
Good, John thought. You deserve it, you son of a bitch.
Krycek dropped to the ground and started to keen. Scully or Mulder must have yelled because doors flew open and 100 agents rushed in and descended on Krycek. He quickly disappeared from John's view.
Someone brushed past Doggett and he gasped, suddenly aware he hadn't been breathing.
"Agent Doggett?" Some rookie looked at him in horror. John looked down and realized he was still holding the dismembered hand, palm pilot inside. He shoved it away, Mulder appearing and grabbing it just in time, and vomited all over the floor.
"Walter," he wheezed. Turned to see Mulder and Scully crouched by Skinner's body. He stumbled over and dropped down by Skinner's feet. "Walter," he repeated.
"His heart's still not beating," Scully barked. "Mulder, you've got to get those things shut off."
"I'm trying!" Then he made a triumphant sound as the palm pilot beeped and all the red spikes dropped down to nothing. "Scully?"
She felt Skinner's neck. Shook her head. "Start compressions."
Mulder dropped the remote and started rhythmically pushing down on Skinner's chest, stopping only for Scully to reach down, cover Walter's mouth and nose with her own, and push in air.
"Come on, Walter," John whispered. "Walter, please."
"Walter, please," John blurted out as Skinner grabbed the doorknob. Their first real fight. Much different from fighting with a woman, John had found. More like yelling into a mirror. Appropriate, since he had been the one to start it.
He swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." Felt his heart drop as Walter just stood there, stony.
"You're an asshole."
Doggett flinched. "Yeah, I know. But…" He fought his usual urge to just shut down. "I don't want you to leave."
Walter's jaw twitched. He stepped back into the room.
"Walter, please."
Mulder was still pushing. "Damn it, Walter Skinner," Scully yelled. "Breathe!"
"Walter." John was whimpering now. "Please. Please." Wrong move, soldier, his brain screamed. Should have followed orders. Now you've screwed everything up.
Mulder looked back to John, defeat in his eyes.
"No," John shoved Mulder aside, brought up a fist, and slammed it as hard as he could onto Walter's rib cage, right above the heart. Ribs cracked under his hand. "Wake up," he bellowed. "You stubborn son of a bitch, wake up." His head dropped down to Walter's shoulder. His tears soaked through the thin fabric. "Please."
The asphalt was hot under his knees. The bike wheels spun aimlessly. He held Luke's limp hand in his. "Please," he begged.
"John."
The sunlight glinted off the handlebars. John blinked. The light cleared. Not handlebars. Glasses.
Walter's glasses.
John reached out. Cradled the twisted frames in his hands.
"What are you looking for?"
"What the hell do you think? My glasses." Walter picked up a pillow and then slammed it back down, swearing. "I hate this. I hate it when I can't see."
"Hey." John placed his hand on Walter's back. "We'll find them."
"I hate it when I can't see," Walter repeated.
John leaned in close. "See me now?"
"Smart-ass," Walter growled.
John smirked. Then the smile dropped from his face and before he could think his mouth was moving. "I'll always be here to help you." Immediately hoped that hadn't sound as needy as he thought.
Walter smiled. Suddenly didn't need his glasses right then.
"John."
Movement caught his eye. The flutter of an eyelash. Lips moving, just barely.
"Walter?"
John's breath caught in his throat and his heart began pounding again, this time with hope. He crawled up Walter's body, not caring that his face was covered in snot and tears, not caring that he was on all fours, ass in the air, in front of the entire FBI. He reached out slowly and laid a hand on Walter's broad chest. Felt it rise and fall.
John sobbed.
Looked up to see hooded brown eyes, gazing down on him.
"Walter," John whispered. He reached up and curled his hands around Walter's face. "Baby, you there?"
Walter gave a little grunt. His eyes searched John's face. "You okay?" he gasped out.
John couldn't help himself. He laughed. "Yeah, baby, I'm okay."
Walter grunted again. "Baby," he whispered hoarsely. "Like that."
John let out an awkward sound, laugh, sob, and hiccup mixed up in one. Felt himself smiling.
The edge of Walter's lip flitted up. "Like that, too."
John paced up and down the hallway, glaring at the back of Scully's head as she spoke to the doctor. They had put Walter in an ambulance and whisked him away, and damned if not a single soul would tell him anything about what was happening.
Finally Scully turned and walked back toward him. "What'd they say?' he demanded. "Where is he? What can I see him?"
Scully looked back patiently.
"Sorry." He sucked in a deep breath. "Go ahead."
"They've run a series of tests on him. There's going to be some minimal long-term vascular damage, along with the bruises from his fall and the cracked ribs. There's no trance of the nanocytes. Just like last time."
John's heart sank a little. "So this could happen again?"
She gave a little shrug. "Well, now we have the controller, and the entire government working on a cure. Krycek isn't going anywhere. It appears that he was infected with the nano-technology as well, though he won't reveal by whom. Presumably whoever reverse-engineered it to bring him back to life." She looked away for a moment. "It looks like the loss of his hand had finally broken him." Then she fell silent, clearly waiting for John to say something.
Doggett braced himself for the guilt. It didn't come. Just relief. "Okay," he finally said flatly.
Scully just nodded. Gave him the same look Mulder had. She understood.
"When can I go see him?"
"You can go now. Room 510." John nodded and started to turn away. "Agent Doggett?"
John looked back.
"I'm listed as Skinner's emergency contact. Maybe… you should switch that." Her face stayed straight, but her eyes danced.
Doggett heaved a sigh. "Very funny, Agent Scully. I'd expect this from Mulder, not you."
Her lip twitched. "Just looking out for you."
He turned.
"Baby."
John stood in the doorway. Walter lay still in the bed. But John suddenly felt awkward. Like he was intruding. Like something had changed.
"Are you going to stand there all night?"
John jumped and scowled. Walter finally opened his eyes. "Seriously, John. I'm not getting up any time soon, so you better get your skinny ass over here."
"It's not my fault," John complained. "I don't know where the food goes."
Walter held a pair of John's jeans up against his own legs. "Jesus," he swore. "Like a chicken."
"Hey!" John smirked. "Just because we're all not built like a brick shithouse, it's not my problem."
"Oh." Walter dropped the jeans. "So now you're calling me fat."
"I didn't say that," John hemmed, backtracking as Walter advanced on him. "I'm just saying – oof!" Walter pushed him back to the bed and pinned him down with his full weight. John wheezed.
"You were saying?"
"S'not my fault," John said automatically. And froze.
For a moment neither said anything. John looked down at his shoes. "Sorry."
Walter just closed his eyes.
"You're tired. I should go."
"Is that what you want, John?" Walter asked.
"Is that what you want?" John parroted back.
"Oh please. Don't start that bullshit. You sound like a little girl."
John felt the burn creeping up his ears. "Listen, Skinner –"
"Yes, agent?" Skinner barked back.
"Fuck you, Assistant Director."
Skinner glared across the room. "Maybe you should go," he said coolly.
John's chest tightened shut. "Yes, sir," he hissed. Turned and stalked out.
The house was silent as John walked in, dumping his keys and jacket by the front door. He made a beeline for the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door only to slam it back shut again. The door handle caught his side and he hissed in pain. Lifting his shirt, he looked at the butterfly bandages covering the spot where Arlene had cut him. He suddenly felt very dirty. Stripping as he walked, he turned the shower to as hot as possible and stepped under. Picked up a bottle.
He gaped at Walter. "Bald men… use shampoo?"
Walter frowned and snatched back the bottle. "I do have some hair, you know." His eyes narrowed. "Are you laughing at me?"
"No," John squeaked, covering his mouth with the back of his arm. "No, not at all." He cleared his throat. "You can do whatever you want."
The bottle dropped to the floor. "Oh, I intend to."
Doggett shoved the bottle out of his sight and stuck his head under the spray. Prayed for the tightness and pain in his chest to stop.
Eventually the hot water gave way and John stepped out, not feeling particularly cleaner. Looked in the mirror at one miserable son of a bitch. Tears started to form again. He blinked fast and looked away, seeing that one of the bandages had come loose. Routing in the cabinet for a replacement, he felt something hard and cool. A glasses case.
"I hate it when I can't see."
Walter hadn't had his glasses on in the hospital. He could barely see, and John had refused to come closer.
"I'll always be here to help you."
John's eyes clamped shut. John Doggett, you are a grade-A asshole, he thought. Grabbing the case, he hustled out of the bathroom to get dressed.
When he got back to the hospital, Walter's room was dark. But John could tell by his breathing that Walter wasn't sleeping.
"The nurse was just in to take my vitals." Walter's voice carried out of the darkness.
"No, it's…" John cleared his throat and tried for levity. "Uh, I don't look very good in those nurses' uniforms. It's the white tights."
There was a shuffle, then the light snapped on. "John," Walter said quietly.
John nodded and stepped forward a few feet. Held out the glasses case. "I found your extra glasses at home. I thought you'd want them."
Skinner let out a ragged breath. "Thank you," he said, the gratitude obvious. He slid the frames onto his face. "I hate – "
"When you can't see," John finished. "I know."
"Oh, John," Walter said quietly.
John felt the tears forming again. Damn it, Doggett, he admonished himself silently. When did you turn into a weeper? He clenched his jaw, hard. Quit your crying, soldier.
"So help me God, if you don't sit down now, I'm going to beat you senseless."
John sat on the edge of the bed.
"Scully and Mulder told me what happened. Arlene, too."
John kept his eyes trained on the bed linen. "Okay."
"Scully seemed to think you had some plan all along. Arlene…" Walter hesitated. "Arlene said she knew you were going to shoot her. Knew… you would have killed her. And Mulder… he agreed."
The sentence came out as a statement but Doggett knew that it was really a question, that Skinner was asking him who was right. John looked Walter in the eye. Figured that the least the man deserved was the truth.
"Arlene was right."
Walter gasped. His head dropped down as if he suddenly felt dizzy.
"And I would do it again." John felt the words bumbling up and couldn't stop it. Didn't care to. A lifetime of emotion and it was all coming out at once.
Walter stood in the doorway and stared until John finally looked up. Raised an eyebrow.
"Do you realize you haven't said anything in the last 5 hours?"
John shrugged, then flashbacked to every woman he'd ever dated complaining about his chronic silence. "I mean, if you want…"
"Relax, John." Walter flopped down on the arm chair across from John's and picked up a book on the coffee table. "S'okay."
"Yeah?" John asked, surprised. Walter just looked bemused.
"Yeah, John. I don't mind it."
He couldn't help himself. "God, I think I love you."
John stood up. "I would do it again in a heartbeat. Not because I'm a Marine or an FBI agent or because I have a need to save everyone like Mulder. Because I love you. Because after 45 years on this earth and I don't know how many failed relationships I'm pretty sure I found who I'm supposed to spend my life with. And if that person's hurting and somebody gives me a one in a billion chance to stop it, doesn't matter if it's a suicide mission, I'm going to take it every time. And if that makes you uncomfortable or uneasy or whatever, I'm sorry. Because that's the truth. Because I didn't take that chance – well, fuck, Walter. Then all this ain't worth shit, now is it?" He feel silent, drew in a few deep breaths. "Walter?"
Skinner sat, motionless.
"I'm sorry, I've upset you, I – "
"Jesus, John," Walter bellowed. "Just give me a second, will you?"
John froze. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay. Sorry."
"And stop apologizing."
"Sor – " He bit his tongue. Just nodded and waited.
After what seemed like an eternity, Walter spoke. "It's… overwhelming. What happened. And I don't mean the whole dropping dead before a room full of agents. Or getting outed before them, either." He gave John a little smile. "I haven't even begun to think about that."
"Yeah, me neither," Doggett mumbled.
"To know that there's someone out there willing to kill for you… who will pick up a gun and shot without hesitation to help you…" Walter drew in a shaky breath. "I've never experienced that before."
John's stomach was making that now-familiar slow crawl up his throat. He set his jaw and steeled himself for the blow, the 'I don't feel the same way' he was sure was coming.
"And I never thought I could love you this much. I mean, I loved you before John, but Jesus. Didn't think this was possible." His voice broke again. "So proud of you. Of the man you are. That you're mine."
Relief flooded through his veins like ice water. "Yeah?" he wheezed.
"Yeah, John."
Up came the tears again. Fuck it, he thought. Let them fall. He smiled through them. Was relieved to see Walter's eyes were wet too. And he was smiling.
"I love you too," he whispered.
"It's gonna be hard. We're going have to work through a lot of shit."
"Yeah, I know."
"And we'll both have a couple new nightmares for our repertoire."
John let out an awkward laugh. "What's a couple more," he joked weakly. "They can join the party."
Skinner smiled briefly. Reached out and pulled John closer. "But we're going to do it together."
It had only been a few hours, but for the first time in what seemed like forever, John saw the light again. "Yeah."
John Doggett couldn't concentrate. He squeezed his eyes shut, flipped to the beginning of the report, and started again. Looked up at the clock for the umpteenth time in the last hour.
Five days ago, Walter had been let out of the hospital with strict orders to not return to work for at least a week. Every morning since then his eyes had followed Doggett enviously as the younger man slipped on his overcoat and headed for the door. John felt Walter's pain, he did. John wasn't even quite sure where he stood with the Bureau. But as long as his pass worked every morning, he was going.
Then came the phone call. Skinner's work cell rung as John was finishing his coffee. He watched intently as Skinner listened and then said, "yes, sir. 10 a.m." He hung up.
"10 a.m. what?"
"Meeting," Skinner said. John waited. Nothing else came.
"Uh-huh?" he prompted.
"The higher-ups."
John stared at him. Walter turned his head away.
"Oh, come on," John snapped. "Just fucking say it already!"
"It's the meeting to discuss our future – or more likely, lack there of – at the FBI. There. You happy?" Skinner stormed away up the stairs.
Doggett stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, quietly seething. Then he turned and followed Skinner up the stairs. The older man was yanking a suit of the closet as Doggett walked in.
"We gonna talk 'bout this?" Doggett asked. Cursed that stupid drawl that came out when he was angry.
"What's there to talk about," Skinner answered flatly. "They bounce us, or they don't. Won't know until I get there."
John stared at Skinner in disbelief. Skinner fastidiously avoided his gaze, choosing to concentrate on his shirt buttons instead. "And that's it?"
Skinner shrugged. Walked into the bathroom.
John had stood there for a minute, then flew down the stairs and out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind him.
Down the hall, the elevator dinged, followed by heavy footsteps. Well, that ruled out Scully. Mulder or Skinner, then. Doggett wasn't sure which was the better choice.
It was Skinner that appeared in the doorway. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Walter spoke. "Mulder and Scully gone?"
What the hell do they matter? John wanted to yell. Instead he just nodded. Slowly noticed that Walter looked like absolute hell.
Skinner heaved a sigh and walked across the office, sinking into the open chair opposite Doggett's desk and tossing his glasses onto the desk. He leaned forward and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
John knew what that meant. A migraine was kicking in. He got up, grabbed an empty chair, and pulled in up in front of Walter. Reached out and started to gently massage Walter's temples.
Walter gave a little sigh and dropped his hands, allowing John to run his thumbs over Walter's eyelids and brow. Turned his head and kissed John's palm.
"Thanks," he whispered.
John dropped his hands down to his lap. "Ready to talk now?" he asked, trying to keep the anger and impatience out of his voice.
Skinner winced anyway. "I'm sorry about this morning."
"S'okay."
"No, it's not. You're in the middle of this too. I shouldn't have treated you like that."
"I appreciate that." He paused. "Now if you don't tell me what happened up there I'm gonna jump out of my skin."
Skinner nodded. Looked away. "I'm out," he said softly. "Done. Termination due to conduct unbecoming a director and fraternizing with a subordinate."
"Oh, Walter." Doggett dropped his head. "I'm so sorry."
"I was able to convince them to keep you on."
John looked up in surprise. "Thank you," he managed. "But maybe I should…"
"No." Walter cut him off before John could get the idea out. "You're not leaving the FBI. You want to be here. You deserve to be here." He shrugged. "Besides, no use in both of us being out of a job."
"Sir?"
Doggett looked over his shoulder to see Mulder and Scully standing in the doorway.
"What's wrong?" Mulder asked.
Skinner stood and cleared his throat. "They fired me," he stated.
Scully gasped. Mulder threw his hands up into the air. "This isn't fair," he protested. "It's discrimination."
"The rules are all there in the handbook, Mulder," Skinner said wryly. "I've got nothing to say for myself." He glanced around, coming to rest his eyes on the 'I Want to Believe' poster. "I'm just sorry that I won't be able to help you anymore. Help the X-Files."
"You've done more than you'll even know," Scully said quietly. "As a boss and as a friend."
A little smile came to Walter's lips. "Thank you, Dana. That means a lot."
"When…" Mulder's sentence trailed off.
"Effective immediately. I have to have my stuff out by the end of the day or the good men of security will come and do it for me."
"The bastards," Mulder swore. "So much for appreciation for your public servants."
"You need help?" John asked softly.
Skinner smiled at him. "Normally I'd say agents should concentrate on their cases." He shrugged. "Fuck it. I don't work here anymore. Come on."
Doggett watched the elevator doors close, Mulder, Scully, and the last of Walter's boxes inside. As he walked back through Skinner's outer office, he heard soft voices inside.
"It's just not fair!" Arlene's lilting voice carried out. "I just don't understand how they could do this to you."
Doggett stopped in the doorway. Skinner stood next to his desk, his hand on Arlene's shoulder.
"It's okay, Arlene. I'm all right with it. And Assistant Director Nieves is a great guy." He smirked. "I told him if I heard he wasn't treating you like gold, I'd come in and kick his ass."
Arlene giggled, then sniffed. "He won't be you," she said mournfully.
Skinner smiled sadly and hugged the young woman, dropping a kiss on her head. "Get out of here," he said softly. "Go home. We'll talk soon."
Arlene sniffed again and nodded. She turned to the door and spotted Doggett standing there. John tried to give her a smile.
She hesitated, then reached out and hugged him. Doggett wrapped his arms around her.
"Take care of him," she whispered. "Make sure he takes care of himself."
"I promise, I will."
She pulled back and regarded at him for a long moment. John squirmed under her scrutiny.
"I forgive you, you know."
John's mouth dropped. Behind them, Skinner made a pained noise. Arlene just looked at John calmly. "For what you almost did. I forgive you." She glanced back at Skinner. "I'm just happy he found somebody to love him like that."
John's jaw clenched up. Jesus, Arlene, he thought. Way to reach right in and just yank out my heart.
"Thank you," he managed, hoping she knew how much he meant it.
She smiled and stepped out. John and Walter listened to her heels click down the hallway. The elevator quietly dinged and the floor was quiet.
For a long moment, John and Walter just stood there, digesting Arlene's words. Then John turned and walked over to Walter, sitting down on the desk next to him.
"I like to think I'd made some difference in here."
John looked over at Walter, who had a faraway look in his eye. "You have, for more people than you'll even know," John said firmly, echoing Scully's words. "You sure helped me."
"I think we helped each other." He ran his fingers along the edge of the desk. "There's a lot of heartbreak in these four walls. But a lot of good too." He looked at John and smiled. "But nothing I did here could beat what I got out of it."
John's lip quirked up. "Your Janet Reno photo?" he deadpanned.
"No, you fucker," Walter growled and pinched John, hard. John yelped. "You. Although I'm beginning to reconsider-"
John cut off Walter with a kiss. Both were breathing hard when he pulled back.
"I love you too," he whispered, grinning.
Walter grunted. Took one last look around the office.
John just waited.
"Come on." Walter stood. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"This is crazy," John panted. Walter grinned and yanked John's tee-shirt out of his jeans.
"Certifiable."
"We could end up in so much shit."
"We could." Walter stilled and turned serious. He looked John in the eye. "It could end up costing us a lot."
"Yeah." John took a deep breath. "Lots of trouble. Potential career ramifications."
Skinner nodded and swallowed hard. "You think we should stop?"
John regarded the deep brown eyes. Ran his fingertips over Walter's face. Fascinating, he thought, when the long eyelashes, usually hidden by glasses, fluttered.
"Nah," John said. Pulled Walter back in. "I have a feeling it's going to be worth it."