Chap 8
Skinner screamed and writhed in pain; his wordless cries turning into desperate gulps for air.
Mulder looked on in a pained stupor, barely aware of what he was seeing, the unreality of the situation allowing him to drift away into his most random thoughts.
Skinner is strong, he thought, stronger then I am. When the UNSUB had chosen Mulder for torture; it was only minutes into it before he was screaming Scully's name; Skinner or no Skinner. But Skinner hadn't called out a single name, hadn't pleaded, and hadn't even said a word except to curse his torturer. He's a lot stronger than I am. Mulder thought, watching his boss writhe silently beneath the torturer's expert hands.
He had long ago given up cursing and fighting against this man. Now when he came for him, he curled up in the back of his mind and screamed the only word that kept him from breaking. Scully. She'll find us, she always comes for me. But Skinner still fought, still cursed, pulling against the restraints, straining to wreak his revenge on the sadist that toyed with him.
The man finally left, once Skinner could no longer scream and hung lifelessly from his chains. Mulder knew it would not be long before he came back. It would be his turn then, but Skinner hung so silently that Mulder risked showing an awareness of his surroundings and a chance for an expedited torture session.
"Skinner. Hey, Skinner. Are you okay?" After a few seconds of silence, Skinner lifted his head to look at Mulder.
"Considering the circumstances, I'm just peachy." Mulder chuckled painfully at that.
Even in these surroundings, his curiosity was almost overwhelming. He risked asking a more personal question.
"Why do you still fight him? It only makes him stay longer."
Skinner closed his eyes.
"I know."
Mulder was not satisfied with the answer. He wanted to know why his boss was stronger than he was, more willing to fight back.
"But why?"
Skinner sighed. He looked up at Mulder.
"I won't stop fighting. When you stopped fighting, I was worried at first. I thought you had given up; had decided to leave me here, alone. Then, the next time he came, you screamed her name. I realized you had stopped fighting, but you hadn't given up." Skinner winced as he tried to adjust to a more comfortable position. He didn't meet Mulder's eyes.
"I can't do that. If I stop fighting... Well, I don't have a name to call." He looked up then, daring Mulder to make a joke, to put a finger in the open wound which was his soul.
Mulder's eyes showed nothing but realization and recognition. He, too, had not had a name to call, before Scully. He nodded.
Skinner slumped into his chains, relief in sharing his burden blended with regret, stomach churning at the weakness that he had shown to his agent. His turmoil was interrupted by a whisper so quiet, he almost didn't hear it.
"You can call mine." Mulder said. Skinner looked up into Mulder's deadly serious eyes, his thanks shining in his gaze as the room faded to black.