Skinner softly knocked on the door, then, as no sound reached him, delicately opened it and entered the room without a word. His eyes immediately fell upon the two bodies lying on the couch, asleep and oblivious of their surroundings, their tight embrace almost indecent for this martial place.

Skinner breathed out a long puff of air, hesitant.

Then, closing the door behind him as gently as he had opened it, he stepped sideways to the austere chair against the wall and sat, without withdrawing his gaze over Mulder and Scully.

Decency should have made him leave the room and come back later, but he needed to speak to his agents and didn't want anyone but himself to approach them. Also, what he needed above all was the quietness and sense of safety of this room, after hours of commanding, arguing, controlling, compromising, shielding and whatnot efforts he had to put in motion for them.

Scanning Mulder's right arm from shoulder to hand as it was wrapping Scully's upper frame, Skinner noticed how Mulder's palm was intimately yet innocently cupping Scully's left breast over clothes. Skinner shied away, a blush on his cheeks, and looked at his shoes for a few seconds. But it was too strong a temptation and too attractive a sight to behold; his gaze returned on them, the simple beauty of their embrace, the serenity on their face.

For a brief second, as his eyes admired Scully's flawless profile, Skinner felt a pang in his heart. He had for long cultivated a weakness for her —always and forcefully keeping inappropriate feelings at bay— now surpassed by a weakness for them, as a whole entity and beyond their unmatched professional partnership. It was no more secret they were now a real couple, even if only few people were privy to it and if he didn't know for how long. They just belonged together and meant to be, through and through; it was that evident when he was thinking of their debut in the basement and, those first months, of their steady tight team seated opposite him in his office.

Leaving Scully's profile, Skinner's sight settled just a few inches away on Mulder's face, charismatic and at peace, nose and mouth breathing bright red hair at a regular pace, a bandage wrapping his head. Skinner sighed; that was them, in a nutshell. Beautiful, brilliant and full of promise for a fulfilled life —personally and professionally— yet constantly wounded and hijacked on their attempting way to heaven on earth. As their boss and first and main protector he had paid his toll keeping them on benign tracks, beyond reason and literally by his blood and flesh. Hell, their crusade and their lives deserve it; beyond responsibility and cautiousness, even without their agreement, he would stay by their side, always.

Skinner glanced away from the couch; staring at them like a pervy uncle wasn't his style. He took off his glasses then massaged his eyes with one hand, exhaustion finally weighing his shoulders down and fuzzing his mind. Rescuing his favorite agents hadn't been a pleasant journey and he had lost sleep and energy doing so. Skinner exhaled loudly, head bowed and eyes closed; how he wished to be able to sleep like baby cats, right now.

A shuffling sound made Skinner lift his head. Here he was at it again, eyeballing Mulder and Scully as they were unconsciously readjusting their position for better comfort, damn well dialoguing and agreeing in their sleep; fascinating.

Skinner smiled and gave up decorum; they could call him pervy boss when they woke up, he didn't care anymore. So, watching their sleep and reluctant to break their spell, Skinner let his thoughts continue to wander as his eyes were enjoying the view.

He was thankful to the Gunmen for having pushed the emergency button, contacting him as soon as they had suspected the worst. They also had provided him some useful geographical intel about what had shown up to be a whole military/big-pharma/industrial/conspiracy shittiness where his favourite agents had happily and almost naively put their feet in. Mulder and Scully just had a way to fell deep into every fucked trap on earth. Sure, that was part of their jobs; but not to that extent and certainly not to that cost and burden. Skinner didn't really believe in any kind of afterlife —especially for himself, even after his own out-of-body experience— but he genuinely hoped there was something like Paradise for people like them.

The Gunmen had sworn that their suspicions about Deep Valley, as well shared by Mulder, didn't seem that life-risking for trained Agents, and certainly not that related to actual and active conspirators. Sure, that could be true; the boys had seemed genuinely surprised when Skinner had later on spilled to them crumbles about secrecy and obstruction he had faced when launching out the rescue mission. Probably, a brand new issue of The Lone Gunman was now boiling up on their makeshift rotary press.

Thankfully, Skinner had military friends and powermen who owed him; he had been able to pull emergency strings and to make all work out despite roadblocks along the way. But it went with a cost. Light for himself and his position, heavier for Mulder and Scully's integrity; they won't like it and maybe they will despise him.

At least, his agents were safe and sound. Blissfully spooning on a couch, unaware of the mess they had triggered.

"Bless them and their lucky stars," Skinner muttered, relieved that they had been able to reach by themselves one remnant building in Deep Valley, partly ruined but still with a solid roof, high and clear enough to easily spot them and pick them up by the chopper. If they hadn't, not sure he would have had the arm's length and strength to hunt them through the forbidden woods of Deep Shit Valley. And the whole timing had also been good and providential; if not…

As if sensing Skinner's thoughts on them or his whispered words, or, maybe, because it was finally about time, Mulder and Scully gave signs of an imminent awakening. Shuffling, stretching limbs, muscle twitches on their face, they will soon open their eyes.

Skinner loudly cleared his throat, not subtle to make his presence noticeable.

Then, he prepared himself to tell them some harsh news; and, also, to hide them some truth. He rummaged his right pants pocket, touching the piece of paper Scully had given him as soon as she had stepped in the chopper. Roush, it was written on it.

And that was something he couldn't afford to let them chew on. If not, Krycek and his nanobots…

"Hi, Agents," Skinner spoke up, as Mulder and Scully's eyes opened up, in sync; fascinating.