Chapter Nine

Georgetown University Hospital, Washington, D.C.

January 7th, 2001, 3:04 p.m.

Skinner's strides were rapid, but not frantic. He carried himself today with pride, and for once it wasn't Mulder or Scully that he came to see in this hospital. "What's up, Skin-Man?" Mulder greeted his former superior as Skinner opened the door to Doggett's room.

"Even though I am no longer your boss, I still reserve the right to deny you to call me that name," he huffed and bit his lip. "And aren't you supposed to be at home resting?"

"I rested yesterday and the day before. Today, I came to see Agent Doggett." Mulder motioned with his head towards the bathroom. Doggett came out a few seconds later, limping out with the help of a cane.

"How're you feeling, John?" Skinner inquired.

"Like my leg's been run through a giant cheese grater. Ahn, I've felt worse," he waived his hand away and used the railing to get back onto the hospital bed. "How long will it be before I can return to the office?"

"Kersh says a week, then you'll resume desk duties until you can walk again. I came not only just to tell you that, but to thank you for your bravery. The both of you, that is."

"In that case, do you think that Kersh might ease off on Mulder, here? Give him another shot in the Bureau?" Doggett asked Skinner, but he made eye contact with Mulder.

Skinner exhaled through his nose and shook his head as he, too, exchanged a glance with the same man. "Not this time," he replied.

"What do you mean? Mulder's earned his own--he might not be the official "Bureau mascot" or "Golden Boy", but he gets the job done same as I do. Who the hell's denying him from doing his?"

"I am," Mulder quietly responded. "AD Skinner asked me yesterday, and I still respectfully but gratefully say thanks but no thanks, sir," he transferred his eyes to Skinner's.

"Where's your sense of duty or justice? Responsibility to your country?" Doggett demanded.

"Unfortunately, those three values are greatly accosted to convenience of the powers that be. And anyone that still thinks that this organization still runs by JFK's philosophy is as blind as a bat."

Mulder's cynicism struck the other two like a runaway meteor, and for a few moments, they pondered his last statement in silence. Skinner was the first to break it by pulling out a tape recorder. "This is what was in Barnes' hand after Washington PD's sniper hit him. They thought it was the triggering device for a bomb-"

"Or so they say," Mulder muttered under his breath.

"Ahem. As none of us were present except for Scully for this, I'm going to take their word for it, Mulder. Doesn't her safety concern you?" Skinner went on without waiting for an answer. "Anyhow, we played the first side of the tape. It's a conversation with Special Agent Tom Colton and Barnes."

"That figures that he'd be the one. He'd sell his own mother to the Devil to make good on an offer he couldn't refuse." Skinner shot Mulder a look that told him that that would be his last interruption. Dogget's eyebrows wrinkled.

"Colton. Colton. The name sounds familiar...forgive me, I'm a little under the influence today. Uh...he was the one that almost screwed that liver eating guy's case up, right? I remember reading the file."

"Yeah, and he joined the OCS in '95. Now that Barnes is dead, Kersh let me open up the WPS database. The Bureau went after the Perelli family in '98, and Barnes went into hiding in '99. This car bombing that nearly killed him happened last year--specifically three months ago."

"The families here are a lot more patient than the ones in New York," Doggett remarked. "So he squealed on 'em, and Colton opened up his big yap, huh? Where's he now?"

"We took a team to his house last night, and right now he's sitting in a cell in nothing more than his pajamas. Last I saw of him, he was on the phone arguing with his lawyer. Anyway, uh, the other side of the tape is of Colton and some Perelli family associate. My guess is that Barnes came to confront Colton, but, uh...got distracted by his dominant personality, who had a different agenda in mind."

"And what do you think?" Doggett asked Mulder, who shrugged. "Off the record."

"I agree with the AD."

"So you're not gonna take a paranormal angle on this?"

"Who says it doesn't involve the paranormal? Craig Barnes was inhabited by the spirit of an officer of the Gestapo, specifically, of the counterintelligence unit, called the Sicherheitsdienst."

"You know, as crazy that first sounded to me, what's even nuttier is that I think I believe you. He was talkin' about gettin' those letters from you and all," Doggett bit his lip and pushed his 'feel good' button.

"Oh, Agent Reyes apologizes for not being here. She had to get back to New Orleans for a case," Skinner told him.

"Thanks." Mulder arose from his seat and walked around to join Skinner on the other side of the bed. "You two gonna be headin' off now?"

"I think you'll probably be needing some more rest," Skinner nodded. Both of them turned on their heels until Doggett called out.

"Wait, Mulder! I asked you something just before this entire damn ordeal, and I'd like an answer."

"You need a ride back to your apartment, Mulder?"

"I drove, thanks."

"See you soon, Agent Doggett," Skinner saluted the former Marine with his head and patted Mulder on the shoulder.

"What's up, Doggett?"

"I asked you if you'd wanna consult with us--you know, Scully and me. The X-Files office. Remember, I said I'd pay you for your services--if Kersh denies me, I'll even pay for you out of my own pocket." Doggett reached for his water from his tray, and Mulder handed it to him.

"Thank you, Doggett, but, no, I won't take your money. My mother left me quite a bit to spend, and if I get bored, I might go into doing some lectures."

"The morphine's working pretty good, Mulder. I'm sorry, I'm just not getting you today..."

"Sure, I'll do it. But outside the FBI--no phone calls from your office, no emails, no letters, no visits inside the office...despite what you think, you are being surveilled. And no matter how many times you sweep the office for bugs, they always keep coming back like unwanted relatives."

"You gotta want somethin'...nothing's for free."

"You're right, I do." He hesitated and smiled. "A home cooked meal would be nice."

"Ah...Mulder...I can't cook worth shit. Sorry--how 'bout a gift certificate to a restaurant?"

"Well, there is another agent in your division that makes a killer filet mignon, or so I've heard from her mother," Mulder offered.

Doggett's mouth twitched, and he chortled. "She's the head of the department, Mulder. I guess it'd have to be her call."