TITLE: Absit Invidia - Part 1
   
   NAME: frogdoggie
   
   E-MAIL: frogdoggie@mcafeemail.com
   
   CATEGORY: SRA
   
   RATING: NC-17. MSR, SK/SC, M/SC/SK, M/SK - and pretty much in that
   order. This story contains just about everything, folks. A three-way
   relationship, very explicit het sex and some slash i.e. m/m sex. So,
   if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is
   forearmed. Proceed with caution.
   
   SUMMARY: A post-colonization story. Mulder, Scully and Skinner survive
   the invasion...but will they survive for long...and how? Missing a
   part of this story or just want to read more of my fic? Then surf
   here: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop or here, on my mirror site at:
   http://adult.dencity.com/frogdoggie
   
   FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER?
   Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames?
   They only serve to warm my body and mind.
   
   ARCHIVE: Sure. Anywhere - as long as my name and e-mail addy stay on
   it.
   
   TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is an AU...post-colonization...so
   sometime after July 4th, 2000. Spoilers would include the entire
   series, up to "The Great Maleeni". References specifically to SR819,
   Orison, Fight the Future, and a whole lot of other eps can be found
   here.
   
   KEYWORDS: story MSR slash Mulder Scully Skinner post-colonization
   NC-17
   
   DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and all other
   X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions
   and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is
   intended and no profit is being made from their use.
   
   Completed in January of 2000.
   
   *Author's notes: After I finished "The Baton Rouge Series"...and
   during it as well...I had a lot of requests to write another threesome
   story. So, this is the result. This story is an experiment in style
   and structure, however. I write stream of consciousness a lot of the
   time and since I'd been doing quite a bit of reading about Gertrude
   Stein recently in connection with that idea, I was interested to see
   if I could actually craft a story that approached that style of
   writing. So, for better or worse...this is the result. If it's
   difficult to read, my apologies. Maybe it's a failed experiment but it
   was a good challenge to write and I enjoyed doing it. I also felt when
   I was done that the style fit the urgency and drama of the story. It
   also said Mulder POV to me for some reason. I always saw Mulder's mind
   as firing ideas, thoughts and impressions very quickly. I tried to
   mirror that idea in the writing as well. So, without further ado, I
   present...
   
   Absit Invidia
   
   by frogdoggie
   
   In the end we went out with a whimper and not a bang. There was
   nothing I could do. To my everlasting regret...nothing any of us could
   do. Not me. Not Scully. Not Skinner. Not anyone.
   
   No. 'Veni, Vidi, Vici'. They came. They saw. They conquered...and we
   ran. There was no choice. Run or die. Me, and Scully and Skinner...we
   all ran and to my surprise we ended up running together. How? Pure
   luck. A conference in Chicago, Illinois. Come on to our local Bureau
   Office, AD Skinner. Strut your DC stuff. Bring us your best and tell
   us how it's done. Whoa...Mr. and Mrs. Spooky turn out to be just what
   the AD ordered up? Well, sure enough...surprise, we were the Chicago
   field office's just before 4th of July entertainment. We should have
   been doubly flattered and thankful, Scully and I. Thanks to Skinner,
   we had one moment of glory in front of our peers and then our lives
   changed forever...everyone's lives changed forever and...we ran...and
   Skinner ran too...and we...we saved ourselves but I have...God,
   I...Scully says I need to let go of the guilt for not staying and
   resisting and dying with everyone else...and Skinner...well he doesn't
   say much but I can tell from the set of his jaw...he wants to let go
   of the guilt too. Live to fight another day Scully said. I have to
   believe that's what we did...what we're doing...but...
   
   Yessir. We did our little dance for the local Fibbies in Chicago. And
   surprise - it turned into Totentanz - yeah, dance of death. Ring
   around the rosy, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall
   down. Except Scully, and Skinner and I didn't fall because we ran, and
   it wasn't plague that took everyone else out...it was...it was a
   shadow government obscured behind fucking clouds of cigarette smoke
   and bees, FEMA, the National Guard, even some within the FBI...and
   last but not least ET and he was coming here to phone home.
   
   So we ran. A run for our nightmares. One night or another one or the
   other of us dreams about it, and we wake up screaming. Their ships
   illuminating the night skies. Gleaming black in daylight. Invasion.
   Colonization. Subjugation. Utilization...they took us...as many as
   they could, using us up for their purposes...survival and continuation
   of their race and what they didn't take...they tried to destroy.
   Devastation. Cities, towns, villages burning. Carnage like you
   wouldn't believe...like none of us could fathom...even Skinner and
   he'd been to war. Even Scully and she'd seen the burning on the
   bridge. Even me and I'd seen the aftermath of that myself. No...this
   was....it was the scale of it. The sheer numbers. The wailing of
   hundreds upon hundreds upon...panicked voices. The death throttles of
   so many...dead, thousands upon thousands of dead. The overwhelming
   stench. The buckets of blood. I still don't know how we got out.
   Sometimes we hid but mostly...we ran, we walked, we crawled, when we
   were lucky, we drove. Once we boated, yeah, three little Fibbies in a
   boat crossing...Lake Superior. The trip's a blur really. From Chicago
   to Winnipeg, Canada, in five months. Gee...time flies when you're
   having fun.
   
   We didn't stop to think about anything but survival. Nope. No deep
   hearted conversations when we were in hiding about Mom, apple pie or
   the dying US of A. No debates about the Consortium and its
   machinations or the Cigarette Smoking bastard or Krycek or any of
   them. No...reminiscing. No...gee, Scully, remember Eugene Tooms, or
   Clyde Bruckman or Jose Chung or...or...remember that night in my
   hallway when I nearly kissed you and remember when I did on New Year's
   Eve and...remember when you hauled my ass out of the Bermuda Triangle
   and I told you I loved you and...no...remember when the guys...the
   guys...Frohike. Langly. Byers. God...that one last cell phone
   call..."Go," I yelled into the phone. "We're gone," Frohike replied,
   and then he added...a breathless..."God bless you both," click...I
   hope...God I hope they got out and no...gee, Mulder...remember the
   first time we really talked in that hotel room...and remember the
   Apollo keychain you gave me on my birthday and...remember when you
   held me after Pfaster and then Padgett and...remember when you showed
   me how to bat and...remember when I showed you that magic trick
   and...all the times we were there for each other...and even the
   ditching and...why even say it? I mean...
   
   She knows how I feel, right? I know how she feels...right? The night I
   held her when it finally hit home that the rest of her family was more
   than likely dead...she knew. I knew the day she held me when I had to
   shoot that kid in Concord, Wisconsin. The one who was screaming
   because something was ripping itself out of his guts in a sick parody
   of birth...and I put a bullet in his head and its head and lost
   it...and she rocked me. Yeah, I knew what she felt for me...so there's
   no need to talk about it, right? Besides...the memories...there's
   really no point and there's really no time between exhaustion and
   hunger, fear, pain and fighting to do anything other than watch each
   other's backs and run...and survive.
   
   So...no discussions and no...recriminations...or acts of forgiveness
   or...No...gee, Mulder and Scully...please forgive me for all the
   wrongs I've committed against you forever, and ever, amen because I
   made mistakes....I towed the line...tried to balance and fell...and I
   hate myself for all of it more than you'll ever know...and God help me
   I wish it had never happened and...yes, sir, we forgive you because we
   know you were compromised and blackmailed...your life in another man's
   hands....and you're just a man who did what he thought he had to do
   and...you had no choice in the end. I mean why even say it? The first
   time I shot a man point blank to save his life Skinner had to
   know...right? The time Scully dug a bullet out of his arm and held his
   head while he vomited from the pain I guess he knew we didn't give a
   shit about the past...right? I hoped so anyway.
   
   But did we talk? No. Nada. Nope. At no time was it...hi my name is
   Dana and may I call you Walter because as I'm picking shattered bits
   of glass out of your ass... yeah...don't ask...it occurs to me that
   calling you 'sir' is just a bit too formal? At no time was it...hi my
   name is Fox and may I call you Walter since as I'm pissing on your
   boots because we can't move out of this fucking 'hidey-hole' and I
   couldn't hold it anymore so I whipped it out and let fly towards you
   and not Scully it occurs to me that calling you 'sir' is just a bit
   too formal? No...it was Mulder, Scully and Sir. Fuck...we hardly
   thought about names or anything remotely...smelling of the finer
   points of civilization anyway. It's...
   
   It's really rather amazing how you revert to...to the most primitive
   base instincts...animal instincts when your life is in danger. I never
   thought I could kill in cold blood...kill without thinking about
   it...without it being...an act of apprehension or self-preservation
   associated with the job. But I did. It became like...like a deadly,
   bloody reflex. I never thought. I sure as hell know Scully never
   thought she could either, that time with Pfaster notwithstanding,
   until she did. And she did it to save me at the time and then she did
   it over, and over again. And Skinner. Christ. I...I can't even tell
   you. God...what it must have cost him to do what he did. He's a very
   efficient killer. Semper Fi. Special Forces. Be proud, be a Marine. Uh
   huh. Sure. Every time...every time I think part of him died. See...he
   was the only one that could bring it on down man to man on the road.
   Death up close and personal in hand to hand combat. I mean with a
   knife to the throat or guts or...a wire...or his bare hands around a
   man's neck. I couldn't and neither could Scully. You know what he said
   when I asked him how he could do it? Skinner said, "Mulder, I've died
   before - twice. I've got death inside me 24/7. I don't mind looking
   death in the face because I know him." I didn't have an answer for
   that because...fuck...all I could think of was...it's the truth and
   most of the damn world is getting to know 'Mr. Death' and I hope to
   hell it isn't only a matter of time before we get to know him better
   still.
   
   But we dealt death. We saw death dealt, and sometimes, a very few
   times, we defeated the Grim Reaper and rejoiced in it. Scully defeated
   him the most...healing whenever she had a chance. One young boy...I'll
   never forget. Tiny rural town in Wisconsin after the clone goon squads
   passed through. Most people had left fleeing for their lives...and
   this boy and his mother...the boy...maybe seven years old standing
   mute, his arm just hanging, dislocated and the woman screaming, "Help
   John, Help John!" and it wasn't even the boy's name, it was her
   husband's and he was dead in a culvert across the street.
   
   Skinner had to slap her to stop her hysterics. Scully and I took the
   boy aside. Quiet, he just stared at his mother. "Hey, buddy...what's
   your name?" I asked. Big eyes on my face. No response. Scully hugged
   him close and he whispered. "Michael." I smiled at him. "Michael, I'm
   going to make your arm all better. Can you lean against my friend so I
   can do that?" Scully asked. Michael nodded and leaned into me. I
   steadied him...and one quick shift of her hands and Scully put his arm
   back. The woman, standing, staring at Skinner, her eyes huge finally
   saying "Thank you, John," and the AD looked away, tears in his eyes.
   Another woman and her husband came by and took them away. I never knew
   if they got out. We went North and they all fled...somewhere else. We
   kept going North...using the compass we found in the Amoco service
   station in the boy's town...North to where we knew it would eventually
   get much colder. Too cold for the grays...too cold for the bees.
   
   So we ran and we lived for the moment. Left Winnipeg on November
   first. No more bees suddenly this past Saturday, November 15th. First
   hard cold snap and they started to die. Either the cold...or they had
   some kind of weird shelf-life. Whatever. Hope they stay dead. Still
   don't know how we managed not to get stung. So we got the hell out of
   town again and we walked and walked and...
   
   xXx
   
   We've been walking for miles when we spot the farmhouse. Reconnoiter,
   senses hyped, rifles at the ready. Skinner on point. He always goes
   ahead. The place is deserted luckily. No dead Mr. and Mrs. Green Jeans
   or little Green Jeans to bury or burn. Hell, I'm glad that's the case.
   Scully still gets upset sometimes when we find the dead kids...well,
   we all do. Man it's cold. They have a fireplace and a big old
   pot-bellied stove in the kitchen. Plenty of wood. It's like heaven
   inside this farmhouse because we take a chance at stoking 'em both.
   Heat and light too and more light from a lantern, flashlights, candles
   and those long kitchen matches we find. Some canned food. Hey...what
   do you know...the place is still almost a home. But the piece de
   resistance...the manual well pump.
   
   Portable water for cooking...but more important...bathing. God,
   another luxury we all miss so much. Damn Skinner's anxious to shave. I
   have to laugh at that. He's had the beard for weeks. We all reek to
   high heavens and the AD wants to scrape his face. But...it is a
   semblance of normalcy and shit...I can't blame him. I want to get rid
   of my face fuzz too. Scully wants to wash her hair in the worst way,
   God bless her. She...well she still looks beautiful to me but I know
   she hates the smell, the grease, the dirt. Hell...if nothing else we
   just want to get the blood out from under our fingernails.
   
   Rub a dub dub...three little Fibbies draw lots for the tub. Skinner
   wins. It doesn't take him long even though he has to shave with a
   'Lady Schick'. He comes out, shaved and all in just short of an hour.
   Impressive. Even more impressive...his attire. He's wearing a pair of
   long underwear. Don't ask. Ok...yeah they're fire engine red. Scully
   and I both suppress laughter but we don't dare ask or comment. We know
   he rifled one of the dressers in a back bedroom. I know he's tired
   too. We tell him to sleep in the same back bedroom if he wants. He
   opts for the couch. Ever watchful. We lock up tight and place the
   screamer alarms. If anyone even jiggles a door handle we'll know.
   Skinner's out like a light in ten minutes. It's Scully up next for the
   bath.
   
   You live for the moment. I have soap in my eyes when I hear the
   bathroom door open and quietly shut. Can you believe it...I go for my
   Smith and Wesson like I can see it. Would have completed the movement
   if it hadn't been for the soft...
   
   "Mulder, it's me."
   
   "Scully?" I ask rather stupidly, wiping at my eyes with my hand. I'm
   standing there naked, freshly bathed, rinsing my face after the
   shave...it isn't like she's never seen me naked but I get the soap
   cleared away and...she's naked too. I think...what? She bathed
   already....but she's naked and...she...and then I know this is
   different then the other times. I know...I think...maybe she really
   doesn't know...what if she doesn't know how I feel and...I should...
   
   "I love you," I whisper.
   
   "I know. I love you too," she quietly replies.
   
   It took the end of the world is all I can think for a minute...the end
   of the world...and then she kisses me and...it doesn't matter.
   
   God she's so beautiful. Our lips meet. Mouths open. Tongues war. The
   taste...we'd had coffee for the first time in months that afternoon
   and I can taste it on her tongue...and it's so sweet. And then I can
   taste what must be essence of Scully...and it's ambrosia. We press
   together...sliding skin...on skin on...lips, and hands, touching,
   licking, sucking, caressing, kissing. I grow so hard, so fast and her
   hands....my hands, entwine as I thrust my erection against her. I lift
   her onto the vanity and...on my knees...her legs around my head...I'm
   between her thighs...mouth tasting another part of her and man...it's
   just as sweet. Sucking her...my tongue running in and out and then
   over and over...she's wet...incredibly...warm, musky and
   then...shuddering...grabbing at my head spastically and I taste a gush
   of new wetness and hold her hips and she comes once hard and then
   again softly, trembling as I lave her.
   
   I rise up, stand in front of her, capture her eyes...I want...I need
   to know...if..."It's ok," she says and then...my hands shake.
   Fumbling..."Sorry," I gulp the word...she smiles. I...I almost lose it
   when she smiles like that at me. Her eyes...the smile travels all the
   way to her luminous blue eyes. I shift...so close and...oh
   God...yeah...one slow thrust...slowly...slowly...and I'm inside her,
   and oh fuck, I can't hold back I...fuck, and I'm like a fucking
   jackhammer. Scully pulls me close. Legs wrap around my waist. Ankles
   lock behind. Where do I put my hands...on her....her hips...hips...oh
   man...I'm gone.
   
   Sweating, flushing, grunting, panting, groaning. She holds me, tells
   me she loves me, it's good, do it, do it, let go and I'm trying
   and...warmth rising up out of my balls...and I'm trying and...my cock
   pounding into her....muscles tightening, tightening....and almost and
   she moans..."Mulder, come for me," and then...and then...I
   roar..."UHHHHSCULLY!" I see a white, blinding light and I must be
   dying but it's fucking glorious and wave, upon wave, upon wave, of
   ecstasy surges through me and I know I'm coming....spurting cum like a
   rocket inside...and out and down between her ass cheeks as I thrust
   spastically against her....burying myself deep inside...and...I cry
   out UHHHH! in pleasure again....and I hear...the sound of feet
   pounding down the hallway. Bathroom door smashing open and...I'm
   thrusting and moaning and finally my eyes are open so I can see...I
   can see Scully's coming again now too, her head back, mouth open in a
   silent scream...
   
   Gruff whisper "Jesus H. Christ..."
   
   ...and my mind barely registers...Skinner...gun in hand....and then
   I'm falling into her tits...and Scully's sobbing and laughing with joy
   and so am I.
   
   xXx
   
   Skinner's on the back porch, his jeans and boots pulled on over the
   long johns. Standing. Facing the setting sun. Looking out
   over...nothing really. In the cold. I walk over and stand by his side.
   "Scully's making some food...and more coffee," I tell him. He nods.
   "Sorry," he replies, his voice rough. Embarrassment in one rumbled
   word. I shrug. Tense jaw just like in the office as he shifts on his
   feet. I start to tell him...what? It was the first time? Shit...he
   shakes his head at my mumbling, glances at me. "None of my business,"
   he says clearing his throat.
   
   Something...a twist of emotion crosses his face before he turns away
   and I know...I realize...oh shit. He sees me watching but won't look
   back. "How long?" I ask. He swallows and looks at me at last. Setting
   sun on his lenses masks his eyes. But his lips flatten in a tight
   line. "Don't ever say a thing to her, Mulder. I mean it. Never.
   Please," he hisses, looking away again.
   
   Oh man. He loves her? Loves Scully. I just stare at his profile. Watch
   his jaw muscles jump. What the hell can I say? I turn and stare
   blindly into the setting sun. "Want some more coffee?" I finally ask
   wanting to either scream or pound my head against the wall...or both.
   "Thank you. I'll be in shortly," he answers not looking at me. I nod
   and leave his side.
   
   xXx
   
   My turn for the nightmare that night. Asleep in the back bedroom,
   Scully in my arms. "SAMANTHA!" I scream, "NOOOO!" Christ...after
   everything...maybe millions of deaths and...it's still about my
   sister. Skinner hears me screaming. This time he knocks. "He just had
   a nightmare. He's ok, sir," Scully calls through the door. "Can I get
   you anything?" Skinner asks. "I'm fine. Thanks," I reply. My chest is
   heaving, sweat rolling off me but...hey...I'm fine. Brief
   pause...silence outside the door, then..."I'll give you some more time
   before your watch," Skinner rumbles. "Yes, sir. Thank you," I reply,
   grateful. Soft padding of feet recede back down the hallway. I wince,
   guilt welling up. Fuck...he's out in the living room like a damn
   watchdog...alone and...we should have stayed out there but...it was so
   fucking awkward...idiotic...stupid embarrassment. Skinner insisted it
   was 'fine'...damn all-encompassing 'I'm fine, Mulder and Scully...it's
   fine...everything's fine'...and who are we to argue with the
   boss...and...ah hell...Scully and I just wanted to be together...to
   talk and touch and...
   
   "Mulder...are you sure you're all right?" Scully asks interrupting my
   train of thought. Brow furrowed. She looks just like she did back at
   the Hoover. Dana 'don't bullshit me' Scully. But I do. I turn away
   from frowning at the bedroom door. "Yeah. It's ok," I whisper, pulling
   her close again. It'll never be ok, ever again but...tonight we'll
   pretend I think. "Go to sleep," I reassure her. "You better not be
   bullshitting me," she grouses. I chuckle and she snuggles close. Last
   word, she's asleep and then so am I.
   
   xXx
   
   We never mentioned that day in the farmhouse again. The next morning
   Scully was up early, on watch. "Robot scout ship," she whispered in my
   ear. It must have seen the smoke from the chimney. We moved on. Never
   knew if it came back. Staying on wasn't worth the risk. Too close to
   what passed for civilization anyway. We needed to head further North,
   into the woods...into the cold.
   
   Cold. God damn, it was too. None of us wanted to admit it but we
   thought we were through really. Only light packs, our handguns and
   rifles. Trying to live off the land and the few rations we found in
   our wanderings. Plenty of water...we were up to our knees in snow
   after all...and it was deepening. Tripping over the first of several
   human shaped frozen lumps in the snow. Others had come this way, tried
   and died. But shit...we were too stubborn to drop in the tracks of a
   howling snowstorm. One insulated boot in front of the other...march on
   soldiers.
   
   I remember all of us huddling together, under the heavy bows of a
   grove of pine trees. Crawling under an improvised shelter we'd made
   thinking...we're going to freeze to death here. Holding Scully and I
   swear to God...the first time in my life I ever let a man hold me
   close. Skinner, trying to gather both of us into his arms. Man
   furnace. I think it was what saved us really. His big, 'bear' arms
   hugging us and that blast furnace body of his. We woke up the next
   morning and traveled on. It was still snowing and the wind cut like a
   knife. The minutes stretched into hours and we just kept walking...we
   didn't know what else to do except walk and look for more shelter
   before nightfall.
   
   It was Scully who spotted the sign. 'Danforth's Lodge. Cabins for
   rent. 5 miles ahead'. There must have been a road. But the snow...and
   it was almost nightfall. We lumbered off in hot pursuit. The sun set
   fast...too fast and the snow blew on. Stumbling about in the
   dark...fucking flashlight...dead battery...and no sign of anything and
   I couldn't feel my feet anymore. I could just see Skinner ahead of
   Scully. We keep her between us so she wouldn't get the wind in her
   face. Skinner running ahead...his light sweeping...and I'm yelling
   wait...wait because I can't see and I'm slipping and sliding, and so
   is Scully, and we're careening into each other and then...row of
   cabins....and we were saved again.
   
   xXx
   
   A lodge all right. Looks burned...tumbled in on one end...maybe. Hard
   to see much without getting closer. But...some of the cabins are
   intact. Getting inside is paramount. We'll explore when we're warm.
   'Eenie, meenie, miney, mo'...pick a cabin out of the row. Break-in.
   It's an A-frame. One huge great room really. Sleeping loft with...good
   golly, Miss Molly...a bed! Living room, kitchen and bathroom. The
   usual furniture. The couch folds out into a second bed. Huge
   fireplace. We're in luck ...a well pump again...and it's not frozen.
   Nice of the owner to insulate it in a little pump house. Someone is
   looking out for us for sure. We find a couple of buckets, and a big
   pot, and quickly draw water for drinking and personal use.
   
   Christ we're tired. Sleep. It's on all our minds. Take watches? No
   way...it's brutal out and we're far enough North...too cold for
   anyone...or anything. Please...no one can be out in this mess. We
   should be safe so...we build the fire fast, set the alarms, eat a
   granola bar each just for the energy...wash up a little, piss or
   whatever and then...
   
   "Take the loft," Skinner suggests, not quite meeting our eyes. Scully
   clears her throat but I beat her to the punch. "You sure, sir? I mean
   we could..." I begin. "No, that's fine. You two...uh...go on," he
   replies, faltering just slightly in that clipped, terse delivery. He
   leaves our side and heads to the bathroom...again? Scully tracks him
   with her eyes. Brow furrowed. I watch his back too...spine straight
   despite his fatigue. Scully glances back at me. My eyes slide...away.
   I shrug. "Bed," I mumble. She has something to say...but she's too
   tired to say it. Reprieve I think. It takes two trips up to the loft.
   First trip, flashlights...mine taking the last of our fresh batteries,
   rifles and guns. Second trip...sleeping bags as we climb up the steps.
   Fireplace heat just reaching the bed. Dusty so we shake out the sheets
   and comforter. Open up the sleeping bags. Add them for extra warmth
   over the comforter. Strip...to our underwear and T-shirts. Climb in.
   Spoon together. Sighs of contentment...dare I hope.
   
   Hear the bathroom door shut downstairs. "Good night, sir," I call
   down. "Good night, Mulder. Good night, Scully," quiet rumble from
   somewhere near the couch. "Night, sir," Scully adds.
   
   xXx
   
   A sound awakens me and I'm up and at the loft railing, gun braced
   before I even realize it. "Mulder!" Scully calls out. Skinner,
   thrashing around in the couch bed. Nightmare. He wakes with a hoarse
   cry. "Stay here," I caution her as she moves to get up. "Sorry, no,"
   she replies. I frown but I can't stop her. Safety back on the gun. Lay
   it down on the night table and...downstairs he's sitting up in bed
   now, white T-shirt, stretched over muscles...both slightly damp. He
   scrubs at his face. I stand by the side of the couch. Notice the fire
   needs wood. Scully comes up, stands at my side. "Are you all right?"
   she asks. His eyes rise...he looks at her standing there in the
   flickering firelight, in her underwear, nipples a little hard
   and...before he can hide it I see it in his eyes and I know...Scully
   sees it too. I look from Skinner to her and...her face goes very
   still. Skinner looks away. "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you," he rumbles. I
   don't know what to say so I decide to play parrot.
   
   "You sure you're all right?" I ask. Head swivels to me.
   "Yes...thanks," he shrugs. Scully clears her throat. "I'll...I'll say
   good night then," she adds softly. Skinner nods. "Good night, Scully."
   She nods and then she's gone. Skinner's eyes track her for a moment
   then...he looks down at his hands. "Can I get you anything?" I query
   before the implications of those words hit home and I flinch. He looks
   at me...face oddly vulnerable without his specs. I see...I see his
   complete lack of hope in anything he could feel for her ever being
   reciprocated and his acknowledgment that he thinks the best man won
   and....deep down that hot flicker of desire for her that he tamps down
   and then...a shake of the head...just a ghost of a smile in
   self-deprecation. "I could use a shot of bourbon...but I know that's
   not going to happen," he replies. I chuckle. "No...but I'll get you
   some water," I reply with a small smile in return. "I'll toss a log on
   the fire too," I add. He nods his thanks. I squash down the feeling of
   wanting to scream again at not knowing what to say to him or do for
   him.
   
   The water goes down...the glass goes back to the kitchen. "Night
   then," I say as he lies back down. "Night," he mumbles. The log goes
   on the fire in a tiny shower of sparks. Back to the loft.
   
   Scully silent, on her side, in the dark...I slide in next to her
   and...she whispers..."Did you know?"..."Yes," I reply. "For how long?"
   half-angry hiss in return. "Since the farm..." I begin. "Dear
   God...why didn't you say something, Mulder? How long has he..." she
   interrupts, confusion and embarrassment taking over the anger.
   "Scully..." I interrupt. "Mulder, he's in love with me," she whispers
   again, turning over to face me.
   
   Below we hear a sound like a mini 747 taking off. Skinner. Snoring. I
   nod into Scully's face...etched in sadness...and...I tell her..."I
   guess...for a while..." and then I tell her the gist of it. "When you
   had cancer...he made a deal with the devil to save your life." I
   shrug. There's nothing else to say. "For that long?" she asks again. I
   nod. "I think so," I reply. "I never...suspected..." she starts to
   say. But her voice trails off and...'I' suspect that's not completely
   true, but she's just now realizing it. I sense....a confession coming.
   "I kissed him once," she whispers, watching my face. I crinkle up my
   brow. Smile because I can't help it...the image...what must he have
   thought? "When?" I ask. She smiles a little in return. "When you were
   in the Bermuda Triangle. It's...a long story," she replies. "In an
   elevator...in the Hoover," she adds. "In the Hoover?" I ask. "Yes,"
   she replies. "And?" I prompt. "And...he was so shocked...but..." she
   muses. "But?" I prompt again. "But...for a moment...there was
   something in his eyes right afterwards. I...I should have known."
   
   I stroke her hair. "Your mind was elsewhere," I reply. Simple
   statement absolution and a twinge of guilt for me because..."I guess
   it was," she replies softly, ruefully, looking up at me from under her
   eyelashes. There's so much love now in those eyes. I shudder. Hot rush
   of arousal goes right to my cock. I bend and kiss her hard and she
   melts against me. Life...this is about celebrating surviving another
   day, and our love, and the fact that we can feel this electric bolt of
   lust for each other despite our exhaustion, and so what if we're going
   to make love, and Skinner's right down there snoring on the couch
   and...we both know he'd like to be up here doing this with her too.
   
   But we are quiet, so quiet as mouths and hands roam over rapidly
   heating and sweating flesh. Harsh breathing and suppressed moans. Lift
   her T-shirt up. I fasten on her tit and suck, and suck and
   it's...God...the most exquisite feeling as Scully arches up under my
   lips. Bites her lip to keep from crying out as I plunge one hand down
   the front of her underwear and stroke...into slick, warm folds and
   then up over...swelling nub...rotating my finger over her clit...over
   and over...her hand guiding me to the most sensitive spot. Circular
   motion. Harder...then my other hand joins the first. Fingers thrust
   inside her...flicking up...massaging. She buries her head in my
   shoulder, my T-shirt in her teeth as she comes, groaning low. Jerking
   once, twice into my hand. Shaking, her arms holding me close. "You're
   so good," she whispers huskily. "Angel," I murmur into her hair.
   
   Sliding underwear down our legs. Off. She moves onto her back...knees
   up. I crawl between, and I thrust into her like we've done this
   forever, and not just once and this time I go slow and easy, slow and
   easy, rocking gently into her. She meets my thrusts...perfect rhythm
   and...oh man I can last like this I can...go slow and tease the head
   of my cock in and out of her cunt, rub it over her clit until she's
   panting hard and so am I and...then she comes again...whimpering and
   twisting and I hold her for a minute until she grabs for my cock and
   urges me in again...thrusting deep and then stilling to gaze down at
   her. "You're so beautiful," I whisper. "I love you," she murmurs,
   stroking my hair. We move together again...slowly and then...faster
   and then...faster, and I start to grunt low with each thrust, and she
   grabs my ass, kneading it hard with her hands and I feel the warmth
   pooling in my groin...and my balls...tight...sudden rolling spasm...I
   thrust quick...quick, deep thrusts...harsh snapped off cry..."Gaa..."
   Exploding. Spastic thrusts....My turn to bury my head in her shoulder.
   
   Coming down...heavy breathing. Murmuring endearments. Pulling out and
   sighing at the loss of connected flesh. Spooning together, I kiss the
   back of her neck. "You know I love you, Mulder...don't you?" Scully
   whispers. I snort a breathless, quiet laugh. "I had some idea, yes," I
   reply, kissing her again. "No matter what...I love you," she adds. I
   pull her closer. "No matter what," I reply. "Forever..." she sighs.
   "Forever," I echo. She nods, seemingly satisfied and even as her
   breath evens out in sleep and her words echo in my drowsy mind...I
   know...I know...
   
   xXx
   
   Morning light just peeking through the dusty curtains on the windows
   that stretch across the back of the cabin. Must be a hell of a view I
   thought last night. Right into the woods. I wake...and Scully isn't
   there. And...I know...
   
   I hear subtle movement downstairs. Sounds like...wood on wood
   and...crackling...wood being added to the fire. I roll to the edge of
   the bed...in the shadows...and look out through the banisters. I can
   see the floor below...I can see...Skinner walk to the
   curtains...pulling the curtains open slightly and then standing...sans
   glasses... no bows over the ears, T-shirt, boxer briefs...back to me,
   one hand on the curtain....free hand on hip...surveying the
   territory...and Scully, plain cotton panties and T-shirt stark white
   in the dim light...just at the end of the loft steps...walking towards
   him.
   
   Hairs come up on my neck...in...anticipation. I almost hold my breath.
   He must hear her but he doesn't let on until..."It's still snowing,"
   Skinner observes as Scully reaches his side. His voice...hushed but I
   can hear...clearly. See the taut muscles in his
   neck...stretch...stretch...like so many bowstrings as Scully...touches
   his bicep. A flinch. Curtain drops and...his head swivels to look down
   and...I can't see her face but I can see his and...God, the desolation
   there. He studies her face, his eyes roam over it...long and slow
   and...he shakes his head. "No," he husks. "No...not..." he shakes his
   head again and walks away. Scully follows, but next to the couch he
   whirls on her, grabs her by the arms, his face in her face and...I
   come up on my hands...but...his face tells me there's no real danger.
   He speaks...fast, raw, and serious...his voice rough with emotion.
   
   "You can't possibly want...not me...not this way. After what I've done
   to you... both. After what you have with him you can't possibly
   want...this..." he stops when she looks down and whispers. I strain to
   hear. "What you've done 'for' us both 'is' why I want this...and what
   I have with him is...the knowledge that if you wait...it may be too
   late. But if you don't, it may be forever...Walter."
   
   I watch and I know...I know this is about compassion and respect and
   the idea that we may find out about forever very soon...days at the
   most. Starvation. Snowed in with no food or...discovery and death by
   immolation, or worse yet, capture and...utilization...and...I know
   that no man should die without at least attaining one thing he might
   have wanted most in this world. No man is an island, and no man...no
   man should have to die thinking he's an unloved, unwanted bastard or
   be put down like a dog without the one good thing he's dreamed
   about...so...make-a-wish Walter S. Skinner. An angel is about to grant
   it and...
   
   He pushes her away hard...but she won't let go. "Scully...no..." he
   grates out, a warning, a plea...his throat convulsing. She won't let
   him let her go...holding his forearms tight. His head bows, mouth
   open, struggling with his breath for a moment...her voice
   gentle..."It's all right. Let it go," she whispers...and then he does.
   "Oh dear...Jesus," he half-sobs, in one fluid move going to his knees
   on the hardwood floor...even I can feel the bruises he'll have and I
   hear the crack as he hits and Scully grasping...pulling him to
   her...his bald head against her stomach...his arms around her hips,
   and...he sobs...sobs quietly into her T-shirt. She strokes his fringe
   of hair. I feel like a voyeur...but neither of them acknowledge my
   eyes.
   
   Finally, slowly he rises...up and up and...full height over her but
   not dwarfing her by any means. Swipes at his eyes, won't meet hers for
   a moment and then...he does. Tenderness there and...it's no surprise
   really...the soft brown depths of his eyes...and he's
   suddenly...alive...so alive again...free...a man again and not a
   bastard dog and...salvation is here and now and... "I love you," he
   murmurs. "I know," she replies reaching out her hand. He takes her
   hand...breathes deeply and speaks..."I...you're safe...you...I can't
   pass them on. Krycek said...they don't work that way," he mumbles,
   looking down again. She touches his chest. "I understand," she
   whispers and he looks up and smiles.
   
   He embraces her. So much gentleness in so large and muscular a
   man...and he studies her face once
   more...seeking...permission...granted and their lips meet and I know
   what he's tasting. He's tasting heaven.
   
   I am a voyeur and they dance across my eyes and I know this scene will
   dance across my eyelids from now on when I dream...as Skinner...his
   hands shaking slightly but then...deep breath...more confident...pulls
   Scully's T-shirt up and...off and then she helps him take his off too.
   Cotton tossed onto cotton and then tits into chest hair, rubbing,
   stroking...she smiles. "It tickles," she mumbles...he has more than I
   do. He smiles. He strokes her hair and she leans into his
   hand...gazing up at him...expectation written in her eyes. His
   face...so intense...so...passionate suddenly. "Tell me if it's good,"
   he growls...and once again, sinks to his knees, this time slowly.
   Lowers his head to her right nipple. Scully arches her neck and he
   lifts her breast up to take more of it into his mouth. "Oh...yes," she
   whispers. Soft, wet sucking sounds...moaning around hot skin. God, I
   know what that's like.
   
   Sucking from tit to tit and back and forth until she's whimpering and
   then his hands sliding down...down...fingers snagging elastic and
   cotton...panties pooling around Scully's ankles. "Oh," she murmurs as
   one large hand grabs her ass and his mouth slides down over her belly
   and down and...and I suddenly realize...they must know I'm
   watching...and they're letting me watch this...and they're so focused
   and they...don't care...and it's like a gift...and my groin throbs
   and...I lick my lips as Skinner's tongue laps her cunt over, and over
   and...Scully's hips buck into his face and he shoves his tongue inside
   her as his free hand massages her clit. Slowly...teasing...then
   backing off. Tongue in and out and...slowly...teasing....then backing
   off...teasing...she's writhing and he won't let her fall down, he
   holds her tight with one arm around her hips and ass and...
   
   He stands again and...Scully, breathless, eyes hooded and mouth slack
   with arousal...watches large hands cradle and lift...Scully comes up
   into his arms...biceps flex...and...he...no effort at all...he takes
   her to the bed. Lays her down and then...pulls his briefs off and
   tosses them aside. Big, rapidly growing large cock and heavy balls
   spring free...he lies beside her and takes her hand..."Sit on my
   face," he whispers...voice harsh with arousal. He lies back...she
   crawls up over his side...up over his muscular pectorals and poises
   over his mouth. "Yes," he smiles at the view. "Beautiful...like a
   rose," he whispers and she lowers herself down.
   
   Oh God...he holds her hip with one hand...his jaws work...more
   wet...slurping sounds and Scully rocks over him...gently rising and
   falling, twisting from side to side with subtle undulations of her ass
   and then....his free hand toys with her tits again....and...as he
   sucks, licks, thrusts his tongue in and out I'm thinking...how can he
   breathe and...his hand travels down...finger on clit...and rubs,
   stroking hard and Scully cries out, arching up, rapid hip movement and
   then...collapses forward...and he holds her steady as she
   trembles...and then...shifts her back off his face.
   
   "Wonderful," she murmurs, licking her lips and panting to get her
   breath back. "Fantastic," he rumbles, smiling with all his teeth. His
   mouth and chin are slick with her juices. A shiver runs up my spine
   and my cock would salute if I wasn't lying on my stomach. I rub myself
   on the bed and...oh...Christ that feels....good...and Scully shifts
   off and then repositions herself in back of his erection.
   
   "You like it on top?" he whispers...watching her face. His cock is
   almost erect...damn that thing is huge...as he studies her he takes it
   in hand and fists himself. Getting it all the way up so she can
   see...what's getting into her. She reaches a hand forward and slides
   it up under his...and takes over the work...his hands drop to the
   mattress...grasp the comforter...fist up...he hisses and struggles not
   to let his eyes drop shut so he can watch her jerking him...."Any way
   you want it, Scully..." he tells her and she smiles. "Just like this,"
   she replies...rising up...over...on...and down...sinking slowly and
   his eyes focus on the point between them....and his jaws clench tight,
   teeth bared in a rictus of pleasure as he sees her cunt taking him
   inch by inch all the way in. She comes to rest flush with his balls.
   
   He looks up at her in wonder and his hands come up to gently caress
   her hips. "Ok?" he grunts, trying to grin. "Full," she nods and
   smiles. "So...lovely," he rumbles, his voice raw. She smiles again and
   strokes his hard stomach muscles. "Oh God," he mumbles as she pulls
   her hips up and then, sinks down...repeats the motion and...he takes
   up the rhythm and they piston together and I...I bite the inside of my
   mouth to keep from moaning loud as I slide my cock around on the
   sleeping bag under me.
   
   No words...they don't utter a word...just harsh gasping...and
   Skinner's low, forceful grunts in time with each thrust of his hips
   and Scully's breathy moans in perfect counterpoint...and his hands
   grip her hips hard, lifting...helping her lever up as she starts to
   thrust faster and faster...frantic, spastic dance on his cock. He
   finds his voice then...low...like a big cat..."Do
   it...good...yeah...good..." he purrs, urging her on...and she bites
   her lip and looks down, shifting..."Oh God...so close," she whines,
   rotating and plunging up and down, up and down, riding...sweat
   standing out on the top of her freckling, flushing tits.
   
   Skinner arches up...powerful ass and thigh muscles working...his face
   intense...flushing...sweat on his brow...mouth open and
   panting...changes the angle and she goes off like a rocket, and he has
   to slide his hands up to support her lower back as it arches. All her
   muscles contract...stomach muscles spasm tight...neck...face...mouth
   open...she screams, "DEARGOD!" loudly and he holds on and
   then..."Ffffuck!" he hisses....hips thrusting up rapidly
   once....twice...third time hard and deep. "UHHHHH!" he roars and
   they're straining together, muscles taut except for hips that pump,
   and pump and pump as they ride into ecstasy. And I...roll
   over...panting...grab hot swollen flesh and jerk it...air
   humping...gasping...desperate...please...oh please...oh...yeah...here
   we...rising...go...rising heat and then...I'm over the edge and riding
   the lightning...groaning and then spurting all over my chest.
   
   xXx
   
   When I crawl out of the loft it's 10 AM. Yeah...my watch still works.
   I rub at my jaw. Sandpaper I think. Get up and wander down the loft
   steps. Bright sunlight streams through open windows. Skinner stands
   backlit by it. Briefs only. I glance at the bed. Scully...sound
   asleep, burrowed under the covers. Shock of red hair peeks out. I
   smile.
   
   Pad over, scratching at my stomach...dried semen. Pull my T-shirt down
   as I reach Skinner's side. "It's stopped snowing," he whispers. Voice
   slightly rusty...a little hesitant..."I saw a deer," he adds, glancing
   at me..."Meat for dinner," I reply...giving him a smile. His lips
   twitch a grin but it fades as he speaks again...his voice subdued and
   distant. "You know, Mulder...I realize that everything we were or
   knew, or thought we knew...everything we hoped to ever be or dreamed
   of or...well it's all changed. But, Christ...sometimes...sometimes
   it's hard to comprehend. We're...this is new...all so new, and I'm not
   sure what's SOP anymore. No standard operating procedure...no fucking
   protocol, no rules and regs and...all of it's gone down the crapper. I
   don't know a damn thing anymore," his quiet voice explains. Rueful
   shake of the head before he continues. "But one thing I do know...I
   know last night...last night a precious gift was given to me.
   Something I'd dreamed about...dared to hope for, but never thought I
   had a chance of ever..." he continues. "Sir..." I interrupt.
   
   One glance that begs me to hear him out shuts me up..."Mulder," he
   rumbles. "I just want to tell you I'd never hurt her, if...if she
   doesn't want this...to continue...well...I don't intend to interfere
   or come between..." he lets his voice trail away. Eyes trained out the
   window, jaw muscles tense. I touch his shoulder. "Sir...absit
   invidia," I murmur into his profile. Eyebrow arches..."My Latin is
   rusty," he replies quietly, turning to stare at me. "Let there be no
   envy or ill will, sir," I reply. Drop my hand. Eyes soften behind
   lenses as I go on. "I'll never hurt her either...we'll watch over her
   together, sir...take care of her together...take care of each other
   together too." He swallows hard. Small smile. "It's Walter," he
   replies, extending his hand. And I take it...warm, rough fingers on
   warm, rough fingers...and I grin wider...and he smiles wider and...his
   whole face...his whole being changes...and his eyes shine...dark...but
   bright with life, and hope and...then I answer. "It's Mulder. I don't
   even let Scully call me Fox," I reply. Firm shake. "I rather thought
   that might be the case," he chuckles. Gruff...but companionable. The
   new order. Comrades in arms, friends...equals. I nod and our hands
   separate.
   
   A small sound from the couch draws our attention. Scully pokes her
   head out, blinks back sleep and smiles. "Go to her," Skinner mumbles.
   "I'll get... breakfast," he gets hung up on the word "Such as it'll
   be," he adds with another rueful shake of his head. "We need to find
   more food," I whisper. He nods, once, curtly and leaves my side.
   
   xXx
   
   Skinner was wrong. We do have some SOP. Skinner on point. Mulder and
   Scully bringing up the rear. We don't complain. If it ain't broke is
   our motto. Breakfast, such as it was...spam, canned green beans and
   Ritz Crackers washed down with water, over...we're out...in search of
   restocking our dwindling food supplies. The other cabins beckon...the
   Lodge and Bambi wherever he got off to beckon...we trudge, rifles over
   our backs, through the deep, fresh snow.
   
   Cabins first. Twelve scattered amongst the trees. Scenic. We start
   with the one closest to our little home away from home. Intact. I
   start to kick the door in...Skinner stops me. "We need a meat locker,"
   he comments. Close by storage in general. Scully nods. We see his
   point. So we pick the lock instead. Identical to our
   cabin...loft...great room...whoa...luggage. Someone left in a hurry.
   Summer clothing...well...it's better than nothing. Some toiletries
   too. Eureka...can we hope the other cabins render results such as this
   one?
   
   Four other cabins are intact...the rest in shambles from weather and a
   fire started ...and we could guess how and from what and hope we're
   wrong. Woods around this section burned too. Four cabins...empty. I
   don't know what we'd hoped...maybe...maybe someone had left something
   behind in every one? We try to hide our collective disappointment.
   Regrouping we turn our faces into the sun and the structure off in the
   trees.
   
   The Lodge. Two stories. Fire had touched here too but not as badly as
   we'd thought last night. A few sleeping rooms on one end burned...the
   rest...somehow left standing dark and deserted before us. Cautious we
   fan out...keeping eye contact. Entry is easy and we sweep the
   undamaged rooms first. Afternoon sun streams in through windows. Some
   windows even in the undamaged areas are smashed in. We can see our
   breath inside. A couple of rooms...are still occupied. We wrap the
   bodies in blankets and put them in the bathtubs. Later...we'll build a
   pyre outside and burn them. Then...
   
   We start to find things. More luggage...clothing...toiletries ...Bic
   lighters and matches...wallets...all sorts of personal belongings.
   Some pharmaceuticals...Advil, Tylenol, Pepcid AC and the
   like...prescriptions...Percodan...Valium...someone needed antibiotics
   too...that's a break...and...a rifle...a shotgun...both with ample
   ammo...four flashlights and batteries....a camera....no film...two
   cell phones...a laptop...what good the last three items will do I
   don't know. We take the laptop and cell phones. Cross country skis and
   snowshoes? Someone must have been up here during the winter...maybe
   the owners? An ounce of pot turns up. "Plan on inhaling again,
   Walter?" I chuckle. He gives me the look and Scully laughs then as
   well. The dope gets scattered to the four winds. Things are definitely
   looking up, though. Definitely looking up.
   
   We load as much as we can onto three unhinged doors as improvised
   sleds for transport back. Lash it all down. Cut a hole in the end of
   each, attach knotted up sheets as drag lines. Leave them in the lobby
   and continue to explore and then...we find the dining room and bar
   and...Skinner practically chortling at the bottles of top shelf
   Kentucky bourbon. "Now this is more like it," he laughs, brandishing
   one and Scully running into the kitchen and finding...the larders,
   full of canned and dry goods and walk-in freezers, full of
   food...mostly rotten except for some bagels, cheeses and pepperoni...a
   disappointment. But...the rest...is manna from heaven. Months
   worth...at least enough to get us into summer and maybe beyond, and
   we're not going to die from starvation that's for sure and...it's like
   Christmas and Thanksgiving and every holiday you can think of and...I
   grab Scully and spin her around, and Skinner laughs...booming echo
   throughout the room.
   
   And then we find the Lodge office and the radio and the small portable
   generator...and think...if only we had gas and then I find the gas
   pump out back. "No electricity...the pump won't work...but..." Scully
   observes, shifting from foot to foot in the cold. "There has to be an
   underground tank," Walter surmises. "Exactly," she smiles. "I'll look
   for a hose to siphon it," I add. Optimistic. Walter and Scully stare
   at the snowdrifts. Walter runs his hand over his ski masked chin.
   
   By shear good luck we find the hatch to the tank only because it's
   near their empty garage and somewhat sheltered. Now...we have things
   to consider for sure. Should we or shouldn't we...communicate our
   whereabouts? Conclusion...it won't hurt to listen at least. But...it's
   growing late and we have a lot of trips to make between here and the
   cabin. We'll need the remainder of the afternoon and part of the
   evening if the weather holds. Dissembling the radio and hauling it
   will probably have to wait. We have to figure a way to get the antenna
   down off the roof for one thing. The gas has to be siphoned and hauled
   and all that's better done in daylight. The radio's weathered things
   this long under its plastic cover. Hopefully a little longer won't
   matter. So...we'll be stocking up...and I think even Bambi will live
   another day thanks to someone's penchant for canned hams and tuna
   fish.
   
   xXx
   
   Fire in the fireplace. Full stomachs. Baths after we heat water over
   the fire. Even a bubble bath for Scully...and a good long soak for
   Walter and then me too. Fresh shaves. Man...we feel almost human.
   
   Some of our bounty is stored next door in the intact cabin. It's
   cold...but it'll have to do. We have a lot here too. Cupboards are
   full. Fridge in the kitchen is full of cans since it's not really
   functional at least until we get the generator set up. Good for
   storage for now. Supplies in the dishwasher as well. Boxes in the
   loft, boxes in the great room. Tomorrow we'll definitely get that
   radio but tonight...tonight we're content to sit and talk and...at
   last...start to get to know each other. The memories are allowed to
   come back a bit...and we start to share our true selves and it's pure
   nirvana. How much we didn't know about each other...how much we can
   reveal now...and what a pleasure it proves to be for us all.
   
   Skinner on the folded up couch-bed, Scully and I in the big
   overstuffed chairs...Scully with her feet tucked up...we converse.
   Small-talk...opening salvos on getting to know you...getting to know
   all about you. Little things...like...Scully's feet are ticklish...and
   she's always covered up that mole on her lip because she thought it
   made her look...less than professional. She blurts it out...like a
   stripper or something and we all laugh like hell under the
   circumstances...and she always wanted a dog...and God...I am still
   sorry about Queequeg...and...she smiles shyly and says...she was the
   one who dropped the leash. I love her. I'll always love her and I told
   her neither one of us should shoulder the blame for anything anymore
   and...
   
   Skinner is a secret chocoholic...and Scully and I laugh because she is
   too and well...I love my seeds so I'm a saltaholic. Skinner makes a
   joke...the FBI agent's four basic food groups...alcohol, salt, sugar,
   and caffeine. Laughter bounces off the walls. And he breaks out the
   bourbon and baker's milk chocolate chips we found and...we indulge
   ourselves. Toast. To...life...to hope...to...us. I choke on the
   bourbon. Large hand pounds me on the back. More laughter...and damn it
   feels good.
   
   Eventually eyes grow heavy with the effects of full bellies, booze and
   chocolate and...bed calls. Walter and Scully throw more wood on the
   fire. I make the rounds of the screamer alarms. Little devices
   liberated from the world's conquerors. Took us two weeks to figure out
   they were solar-powered portable electronic perimeter alarms.
   Now...they guard us and it's poetic justice. Aptly named because they
   scream like air raid sirens if someone disturbs them.
   
   We're all a little buzzed...loose...feeling better than we've felt in
   months but...there's some awkwardness as we gather near the couch-bed.
   
   Skinner stares at it. I know...we all know what he's thinking, and I
   don't want him to be alone either. "Well...I guess I'll turn in," he
   comments, bending to pull it out. I glance at Scully. She takes my
   hand and squeezes it...affection...love in her eyes. I nod and so does
   she. "Look...Walter...uh...the bed upstairs is big enough for
   three...it'll be warmer and all," I suggest quietly to his back. He
   drops the end of the couch with a soft
   thud...straightens...slowly...turns...looks from me to Scully. "You
   don't have to do this..." he replies...but his eyes...his eyes are
   moist. "Walter...come to bed," Scully smiles gently, releases my
   hand...turns and won't take no for an answer...she heads for the loft
   stairs. "She who must be obeyed," I advise him, grinning. "Who am I to
   argue then," he replies, pushing the couch back together. He stands,
   faces me. His smile reaches from ear to ear. We grab his rifle, and
   handgun, and haul them up to the loft.
   
   Scully swats me when I tell her she makes a cute monkey in the middle.
   She swats Skinner too when he agrees. She jokes about feeling like
   she's in a valley between two mountains. We threaten to tickle her
   feet and she giggles. Scully giggles and we all laugh some more.
   
   But we know who's in charge here. Walter and I know who's setting the
   boundaries...the new regs...who rules in slumberland...and we're more
   than happy to bow to the Queen of this new territory. Why not? We're
   very happy subjects, content and more at peace then we've been in a
   very long time.
   
   Nevertheless...sleep doesn't claim us right away and I know it's
   because this is new too...this arrangement. So we talk...plan for
   tomorrow...what to do next...learning something that we knew all along
   but maybe never acknowledged...that united we're a formidable
   force...together we persevere...together...we survive...and...there
   are no more hidden agendas between us, no...inhibitions...no envy or
   ill will indeed. I drift off to sleep, my hand over Scully's middle,
   my arm touching Walter's large hand where it splays out over her hip.
   And I can say...that night no one has a nightmare and after that...if
   we do...we don't remember them.
   
   xXx
   
   In the early morning Walter is rousted from a sound sleep by
   suppressed laughter and the springs starting to squeak, and the bed
   starting to bounce as Scully rides my cock. "Morning," I stutter,
   laughter breaking out at last and Scully laughs too as she slowly and
   sensuously moves up and down...and God, I grit my teeth because it's
   so incredibly good. Walter's eyes track her languid movement and his
   ears turn red but he starts to sputter and then...laughs like hell. No
   more...secrets or lies. Nothing to hide...nothing to ever be ashamed
   of again. We're free and...it's...it's fucking wonderful.
   
   Skinner shifts...legs swing over the bed and his parting comment makes
   us both shake with laughter on top of our trembling with arousal.
   "I'll put the coffee on," he rumbles, chuckling. He grabs his briefs
   off the end of the bed, glasses off the night stand. Glasses on...and
   then draws his briefs up over his muscular thighs. He has to rearrange
   his morning hard-on before he can saunter off with that John Wayne
   walk thing he does. Scully gasps as she looks at his hard, muscular
   ass. "Breakfast's on me," she says...and I don't think she means food.
   
   God...I would never have guessed she was this insatiable I think as I
   start to stroke her clit. She bites her lower lip and picks up the
   pace. Oh man...what a fucking view and...she pants out, "A little
   harder...oh yes...just...like...that," and I circle her clit, tugging
   a little. "Come for me...lover," I whisper. She looks down, smiles and
   I feel her clamp down like a vice and then moaning...back arching...I
   take her hips and...oh yeah she screams this time...long and
   high...keening that starts in her cunt somewhere and makes it
   to..."MULDER!" my name loud on her lips and I thrust up...and
   yeah...fuck...take it...take it in deep, and...only a few more
   thrusts, and I follow her over into ecstasy.
   
   It occurs to me later as I watch Scully braced over the kitchen table,
   Walter taking her from behind that it must be the pheromones or some
   damn thing and you know...I don't care. We haven't had a reason to
   celebrate life...even think about sex since the farmhouse and
   now...well it's a banquet and for now, we feast and hey...yeah...I
   like to watch...so I went for my second cup of coffee when Scully told
   Walter it was 'time for breakfast'...after we'd eaten our fill of
   course. Brought that coffee back to the couch and watched Walter bend
   Scully over the kitchen table so he could rub his cock all over that
   luscious ass of hers, and then go down on her, on his knees behind and
   he ate his fill again and Scully came, crying out and rocking back
   into his face.
   
   Now I'm guzzling my second cup of coffee, sitting on the couch, and
   Walter's filling Scully up all right. Something to be said about size,
   age and staying power. I could get jealous I guess if I didn't know I
   could make Scully scream too. So I enjoy the show...watch as Walter's
   big, thick cock pulls partway out and thrusts back in slowly...in and
   out in long, slow pumps so she can feel every inch...his hands holding
   her hips...soft slick sounds as they slide forward and back, forward
   and back...his balls swinging.
   
   Scully looking up, her tits rubbing over the table, nipples hard from
   the friction and she's on her forearms then, watching me watch her,
   licking her lips, then mouth open as she gasps because Skinner's
   picking up the pace. Walter's got those great thighs and glutes,
   man...and can he use them...oh hell yeah.
   
   He grunts now with each thrust gasping out, "Fuck...you feel
   fucking...oh God," and laughing because he can't even get out the
   words, and Scully laughs and it rises to a loud moan as Walter goes up
   on his toes...his thighs against hers...angling for support. "My God!"
   Scully's eyes go wide...and Walter groans...rapid, deep thrusts and
   Scully rocks back meeting him stroke for hard stroke...and then he
   roars...hoarse, guttural cry, "DDANA!" her Christian name comes
   unbidden out of straining throat muscles...frenzied thrusting and then
   Scully cries out too...all her muscles jerk at once and they move like
   spastic marionettes for a few blurred seconds and then....collapse
   together on the tabletop. I'm so entranced I don't even realize I'm
   beating off until I spasm and come, spilling what's left of my coffee
   down my shirt front.
   
   xXx
   
   "Jingle Bells. Santa Smells. Rudolph ran away." That gets me a
   snowball in the back of the head. "Mulder...it's not even Christmas
   yet and...that's not appropriate anyway," Scully admonishes.
   
   Sush, sush, sush, the sound of Scully's skis coming up behind me. I
   grin to myself as she pulls abreast of me and then I turn and grin at
   her. Face framed in her hood...insulated mask covering all but
   her...rolling eyes and mouth mumbling "Smart-ass...just because you're
   getting some..." and then we both laugh.
   
   The Lodge looms up ahead and we slide forward, poles working...as we
   follow Skinner. Walter's plodding forward doggedly on the snowshoes.
   Only thing that we found would fit him when we suited up to go out
   after...breakfast. You know it feels good to be clean under these
   clothes...and full and...satiated in more ways than one. Will make the
   day go easy that's for sure. We have work to do. So we glide on and
   catch up with Walter.
   
   The radio goes back to the cabin first. Then...we all stare at the
   antenna. The roof is covered with snow. "I'll flip you for it," Walter
   rumbles. "It's icy," Scully muses reluctantly. "Yeah...but it's not on
   the peak...it's just on the office gable..." Walter comments. "I'll
   go," I interrupt. "I've had some experience climbing on ice," I add,
   glancing at Scully. Duck of her head and pensive, wistful smile. She
   remembers Antarctica. God...how could we forget. "You'll need
   something to scrape away the snow...and a screwdriver. There's a tool
   kit in the office," Walter advises, clearing his throat. I hand my
   rifle to Scully. It takes the better part of the afternoon, but...that
   sucker comes down. It goes back to the cabin. A quick lunch of tuna
   fish and canned peaches and then back to the Lodge.
   
   The portable generator and a couple of gas cans full of fuel siphoned
   from the gas tank go to the cabin next. I gagged during that job. Glad
   we have toothpaste. The rest of the time we haul supplies...clean
   sheets, towels...more food...cut wood...and then...we carry the bodies
   down and out. Take them on the door sleds to the clearing where the
   other fire burned and...haul some furniture along too...big old Guy
   Fawkes bonfire with the bodies on top. We found their ID so when
   Walter says a few words he can at least use their names. James Pitt
   and Pamela Santos from Bismark, North Dakota, and San Diego,
   California, respectively. Ashes, to ashes, to ashes and...Scully
   crosses herself. Snow to put the fire out. Cover the bones...back to
   the Earth. And dusk is upon us.
   
   Back to the cabin and...the generator goes in the pump house and the
   antenna gets propped against the side of the pump house for the night.
   Radio and microphone are set up on the sideboard in the great room.
   Walter uses a screwdriver from the tool kit to open it up. Pokes
   around, checks it out. Shrugs. Seems in one piece, dry and clean.
   Shuts it and says..."Tomorrow we'll see about getting it working with
   the antenna." I suggest, "Hook that refrigerator up too." He nods.
   "We'll need more extension cords," Scully calls from across the room.
   "Right," Walter replies. I nod and go to join Scully where she's
   cataloging the supplies we brought back.
   
   Later, after a quiet dinner, we're all a little subdued. The bonfire
   memory of course. Lost in our own thoughts. I turn on the laptop and
   discover...the battery still works...and when we have the generator
   hooked up tomorrow we can recharge it too. Boot it up. It's got a
   couple of games on it...Tetris and Solitaire... along with personal
   files for someone named Jessie Sink. Quick look tells us Jessie was a
   day trader. The PC is full of stock information and personal
   correspondence. We delete the personal files. Leave the games. Scully
   and I start a Tetris competition. Walter pulls out a paperback he
   snagged in the lodge. He found several in the office actually. This
   one's 'The Hobbit'. I glance at the others where he's put them on an
   end table. The whole trilogy. I smile. "Ever read Tolkein before?" I
   ask as Scully flips Tetris pieces on the screen during her turn.
   "Never got around to it," he comments, adjusting his glasses. "Let me
   know what you think...I've read them all," I reply. "Me too," Scully
   adds, biting her lip to make a screen maneuver. "Really?" I ask, "Yes,
   all of them," she answers without missing a beat and Walter chuckles
   as my attempt to distract her fails. "Then we'll all discuss all of
   them," he replies, and then he focuses on the book and we play on.
   
   Snoring jars my concentration as I drop the Tetris cube and it falls
   off kilter. I scowl and glance at my watch. Late. Walter is asleep
   over 'The Hobbit.' Scully's head is nodding too. I smile. "Bed," I
   suggest. "I'm ahead anyway," Scully blurts out, her head jerking up.
   "You're half asleep," I reply. "True," she nods amicably. "You want to
   wake 'Gandalf'? I need to use the ladies room," Scully requests with a
   wry smile. "Sure thing," I reply, as we both get up from our seats at
   the coffee table.
   
   I shake Walter's arm. He jerks awake, swinging, I jump back. Rueful
   look in his brown eyes. "Sorry...force of habit," he shrugs. I nod.
   "You were snoring," I reply. He chuckles. "Time for bed," I add.
   "Definitely," he replies. We wait our turn in the can and then amble
   off after the 'Queen of Slumberland'.
   
   xXx
   
   We wake with the dawn. Eager to get to work on the radio. Nervous buzz
   in the air. What if...what if there are others out there...resistance.
   What if...we can contact them? What if...there's hope that mankind is
   fighting back? What if...so many what ifs. We need to find out.
   So...instant coffee and the rest of the canned peaches along with some
   ham slices on bagels for breakfast. Funny how the bagels didn't go
   stale. Go figure. Everything still kept cold next door for now until
   the fridge works.
   
   I risk a solo trip up to the Lodge on my skis and locate some more
   heavy duty extension cords. Walter and Scully labor long and hard to
   get the antenna on the roof of the cabin. I return in time to see...in
   one harrowing moment...Scully falling off the roof slope...Walter
   standing, holding the antenna dumbstruck in horror...too far away to
   stop her. She lands on a snowbank, unscathed and I walk over a lot
   more nonchalantly than I feel and help her up. Dust off her butt.
   "Glad that's in one piece," I quip and the remark has its effect.
   Scully gives me the look and then we all laugh...but I know our hearts
   are beating in overdrive. I wonder for a split-second how long any one
   of us can dodge a bullet...injury or illness or...I shove the thought
   out of my mind. It doesn't pay to think about it much.
   
   Walter manages to drill a hole in the wall and pass three extension
   cords through from the generator in the pump house out into the great
   room. One for the fridge, one for the radio and one for anything else,
   like the laptop. It'll do for now. We'll have to keep the generator
   running and when the gas runs out, that'll be it I guess. Unless we
   can devise something else. I crank up the generator, Scully relays to
   Walter as soon as it starts to purr. I join them in the front room.
   Walter turns the switch on...rotates the dial...static...rotates it
   again...static...and again...static and...channel after channel of
   static and...Walter quietly suggests..."Shut it down...we'll conserve
   the fuel for now since the stuff in the fridge is just canned goods."
   I nod and run back to the pump house. Not sure what we expected
   but...time to listen to static later I guess.
   
   When I come back in Walter is just staring at the radio and Scully is
   massaging his bicep. Walter's shoulders slump. "Next time," I whisper.
   His head swivels and he straightens, squares his shoulders again.
   Scully steps back. He assumes a little of the old take control AD
   Walter Skinner and we let him. It will help him cope with the 'static'
   disappointment. "Yeah...next time. Listen...I've been thinking about
   the fridge. We don't really need it until warmer weather. If we ration
   the gas to the radio...only run it periodically we'll be able to run
   everything longer," he suggests. Hand on hip, hand gesturing. Scully
   takes his hand, squeezes it. He smiles at her. I nod. "Good idea," I
   reply. "I agree," Scully seconds the motion. "I'll set up a schedule,"
   he states...and he does.
   
   The days pass, stretch into weeks. Static on the radio makes us wonder
   if we'll ever hear or see anyone again but we're as philosophical as
   we can be about it. We still have hope you see. And...we have each
   other.
   
   We spend the time in reading, talking, working to make the cabin more
   comfortable...making love. Walter and Scully, me and Scully...and me
   watching Walter and Scully and Walter finally, totally unashamed,
   watching Scully and me...fascinated one night when I initiate Scully
   into anal sex. And then one night...all three of us in bed together,
   Walter in front of Scully and me behind, and he enters her from the
   front, slowly, holding her legs up around his waist and I enter her
   carefully from behind, up her ass, and for a moment I stare into
   Walter's heavily aroused face because I can feel his cock on mine
   inside Scully separated only by thin inner walls of flesh and muscle
   and the feeling is...indescribable...and I can see him feeling it too
   and I can see...something in his eyes...and I know someday...if we
   survive long enough...I may feel that cock inside me too. And then
   we're moving, rocking Scully gently between us until she's crying with
   the ecstasy of it and we come...I don't know who first, but our united
   howling sounds like a fucking pack of wolves, and it's glorious.
   
   And afterwards, later, while Walter sleeps, Scully and I stand
   downstairs and stargaze through the windows. I hold her close, my arm
   around her shoulders and I ask her..."Do you think...do you love him
   now too?" Thoughtful look down. I watch her profile as she muses...she
   looks up. "Honestly...I don't know for sure. But...I'll know it when
   I'm sure and I'll tell you...and him," she replies quietly and I smile
   and hug her tight.
   
   Thanksgiving and Walter bags us two pheasants and I get a rabbit in
   the morning and we have almost a proper Thanksgiving dinner...the
   pheasants and rabbit roasted over the fire. God, they're good. That
   night, over an after-dinner bottle of wine, I initiate Walter and
   Scully into the wonderful world of Dungeons and Dragons. Walter's
   partly through the Lord of the Rings and...naturally we talk about the
   themes and naturally I mention Langly and...ok...I played D&D with his
   group a few times and we start talking about the connection between
   that and Tolkein and pretty soon...Walter's a wizard, and Scully's a
   cleric, and I'm an elf/thief, and we're using a deck of cards we found
   instead of dice to improvise the move, and fighting, and spell rolls,
   and fighting orcs, and all manner of monsters, and evil wizards,
   and...we played for days....and it's the best time and then...
   
   It's Christmas Day. Scully actually catches up with Bambi at high noon
   so it's going to be venison haunch for Christmas dinner. After dinner
   we cluster around the small pine tree we cut and propped up in a
   corner. Erstwhile Christmas tree. It's the thought that counts I
   guess. We improvised little gifts for each other. Walter carved some
   small figures for us. God...I wonder when. But, I have a little wooden
   elf, and Scully a small cleric, and Walter a wizard, and...they're
   fantastic. I never knew he had such talent. I hand Walter and Scully
   each huge Cadbury chocolate bars I unearthed on one of my solo trips
   up to the Lodge. They're like kids when they eat them. Scully hands me
   a tiny envelope full of hand salted sunflower seeds and I'm so touched
   because I suddenly remember there were some sunflowers, the heads
   still heavy even in the winter snow in a small garden in back of the
   Lodge, and I know she must have picked out those seeds herself.
   
   Walter gets a bottle of Napoleon Brandy that Scully said was in a
   lower cabinet none of us had checked in the bar. It's dusty it's so
   old. He shares it and we're all pleasantly buzzed. We end up in bed
   again, together, making slow passionate love...both of us in Scully at
   once again, and for the first time Walter tentatively kisses me...just
   a light brush of the lips...almost as if by accident but I know he's
   testing the waters, and I never thought...never suspected he swung
   that way and didn't suspect I would think I could either, and I lean
   into the kiss a little and he smiles shyly and then later...I wake
   from sleep, my arms around Scully and I hear static and then...a
   garbled voice and I'm up like a shot and so is Scully, joining Walter
   at the radio.
   
   A far off voice...garbled. "Australia calling. This is Perth...can you
   hear us? Can you hear us...over. We.../blast of
   static/...underground.../blast of static/...I repeat, the
   mines...underground...and.../blast of static/. Walter takes up the
   microphone, thumbs the key switch. "Perth this is North
   America...Canada...can you hear us? Over," he shouts.
   "America...God...yes...come in.../blast of static/.../blast of
   static/.../blast/...Walter fiddles with the knob...more static and
   then...nothing else. But it's enough. Someone is out there...someone
   and there may be others closer still. Walter turns off the radio for
   the night and I run out and shut down the generator, and when I come
   back Scully and Walter are kissing and I hug them both, and we fall
   into bed, and laugh, and then...cuddle and fall asleep until just
   before dawn when we wake and want to see the sun rise. Bundle
   up...trundle out.
   
   "Fantastic!" Walter exclaims. "Clear day," I add and after a couple of
   days of new snow it's a winter wonderland again and Scully says,
   "What's that?" pointing off towards the horizon and we squint to look
   and then we hear the rumbling. "What...the...fuck?" Walter whispers
   and then the world roars and the next thing I know I'm lying in the
   snow and my nose is bleeding because I can feel wet warmth on my lips
   and taste blood and I'm yelling, "SCULLY! WALTER!" in panic as the air
   around me roars and then everything goes bright, white, and "MULDER!
   WALTER!" Scully screams and I feel her hand in mine, and she's half
   under me, and where's Walter...and then everything's very still.
   "Jesus, Jesus help us," Scully whispers her voice very small. I hold
   her close. "Where's Walter?" I ask her looking into her shocked face.
   "God...I don't know," she replies, twisting under me. I roll off
   her...and there he is...not ten feet away, on his back, eyes opened,
   breathing but stunned. We crawl to him.
   
   "Walter, are you all right?" Scully asks, feeling his neck, his wrist.
   Checking him all over. "Couldn't...couldn't see for a minute...but...I
   can now," he answers, his voice raw and hollow. "What in the living
   God was that?" he mumbles, turning to look at us. I look up, off to
   the right...see smoke and the tops of some trees bent and broken and
   smoldering...and I think...Tunguska and I turn back to Walter and
   Scully. "I think ET flunked his driver's test," I quip. Walter nods
   and slowly sits up. "Yeah...I thought I was nuts. Fucking huge...I saw
   the underside before...shit...that was no robot scout ship that
   was..." Walter replies, breathless, stumbling over the words. "Maybe a
   clone drop ship or.." Scully begins..."Or a transport," I surmise. The
   ground shakes suddenly and we cling to each other. We hear a far off
   sound of thunder. "I hope it was a clone ship," Scully murmurs as we
   struggle to rise. Walter and I nod. Transports would
   have...merchandise...frozen...but still men, women and children. Not a
   good thought. We make it upright and Walter wobbles. "Are you sure
   you're all right?" Scully asks. "Yeah, I'm fine," he coughs. But he
   wasn't.
   
   Scully had a terrific headache afterwards. Walter and I took turns
   holding her head while she vomited from the pain. I was headachy and
   my ears were ringing but I was nowhere near as sick as Scully. She was
   laid up for about three hours and then better and finally right as
   rain. We thought, whew, dodged a bullet and then... Walter began to
   complain of a headache and then...he fell to the floor, writhing in
   pain. We had to drag him, moaning and then screaming in agony onto the
   folded out couch. I had to hold him down...and watch his glasses...get
   his glasses...off...while he flailed and Scully felt his head and all
   business...Doctor Dana Scully taking over, told me..."He's burning up,
   Mulder, we have to try to get his temperature down fast." And she
   ordered me to hold him while she soaked sheets in snow but it wasn't
   necessary to splay out over him because he passed out.
   
   We didn't know what to do. No medical equipment, not even a
   thermometer to measure just how much he was burning up...no drugs
   other than Percodan, Valium, Tylenol, Pepcid AC and Amoxicillin and it
   was obvious this wasn't a virus...it came on too fast. So he lay for
   days...throwing up and...incontinent and God...we tried to get an old
   tarp under him and then...diapered him...he kept burning with fever on
   and off and...sometimes coherent...sometimes not and we had to finally
   tie him down with towels because he was so strong in his delirium and
   he struggled and yelled things like..."VC! VC! Get down!" and "Fuck
   you, Krycek! Fuck you!" and moaned, "I'm so sorry, Sharon," and Scully
   cried at one point when he whispered..."I'm so sorry about your
   sister, Agent Scully."
   
   We bathed him in cold water, even packed him in snow when the fever
   would spike. Bundled him up when he had the chills. Tried to get water
   down him when he was awake, and sat with him in shifts, and ate in
   shifts and never talked about him dying even though it was uppermost
   in our minds. Slept in shifts too and...one night after I had crawled
   up into the loft for a couple of hours sleep I heard his voice
   mumbling. He must have been lucid because Scully said, "Now...don't
   talk that way...you...you know you're going to be all right," and then
   more mumbling from the couch and Scully's voice, shocked. "Walter...I
   can't do that." And then his coughing and mumbling again and Scully
   saying..."No!" quite distinctly, emphatically and then softly..."I
   can't...I love you now too." And later, when I came down to relieve
   her and he was unconscious she said he asked her to end it for him
   because he thought he'd never recover, and he'd be a cripple or
   worse...a vegetable, and a burden, and better to end it, and of course
   she'd said...no...and then he'd passed out again. And of course she
   told me she loved him. Days, and days and not once did we even bother
   with the radio, and then...
   
   Sunrise, New Year's Day, 2001, and finally...Walter's last fever
   broke. We were ecstatic when it seemed a permanent state of affairs.
   We propped him up on pillows and it was the happiest New Year's Scully
   and I had ever had...even better than when we kissed last year. Weak
   but unbowed, it was obvious Walter Skinner had fight in him yet, and
   the first thing he did was ask for ham and black-eyed peas for the New
   Year's meal. I asked him if French cut green beans would do, and he
   smiled and said, "Yeah." Before dinner he bathed, Scully helping him
   while I stripped the couch-bed. Even with the tarp the mattress was
   history. I dragged it and the tarp out back to the trash pile. We'd
   burn it all later. It wasn't really needed. Since we were three in a
   bed the couch could stay a couch. That night, Walter would sleep with
   us...and he did. After a light dinner... just enough to satisfy his
   ham and green bean desires but not overtax his system...we bundled him
   to bed...put him in the middle this time and cuddled close around him
   and for a short time theorized about what had happened to us Christmas
   Day.
   
   Scully and I had talked about it but only in fits and starts.
   Debating...just like in the old days. New Year's we pooled our
   opinions and decided that the crashing ship could have emitted a low
   grade EMP pulse or...something, and it quite possibly affected the
   nanocytes...destroying them. Walter's illness was the result of his
   body trying to eliminate his onboard hardware. His piss had been
   tinted blue and his vomit had smelled metallic. We didn't have any
   better explanation and we could only hope he'd be fine.
   
   It took a while but one morning at the end of January I came back from
   a solo trip to the Lodge and Walter and Scully were making very noisy
   love in the loft, and I put a pot of hot water on the sling over the
   fire as had become our joke for when two of us were getting it on. Cup
   of coffee after instead of a cigarette. It always got a chuckle. I
   could look up and just see Walter's ass thrusting like hell with
   Scully's legs wrapped around his waist and you know...I didn't get
   hard or anything...just a sense of relief that he had his strength
   back and could get it up for her. As I was mixing the instant coffee
   in the kitchen area I heard Scully cry out and then after a few
   moments of heavy mattress bouncing Walter's loud, hoarse shout told me
   all was well in that department too.
   
   Weeks passed and a month and...it was Scully's birthday and we did
   that up right. Can you believe I baked a cake? Yeah. German chocolate.
   She beat me at Tetris and we played a marathon game of D&D and she
   dungeon mastered and Walter and I each played two characters and we
   found the treasure and...we shared a bottle of wine again and that
   night we each made love to her, and I heard Scully tell Walter again
   that she loved us both, and then Walter murmur he loved us both too.
   
   And March...and we listened to the snow melting, and the radio
   delivering static, and Walter talked about possibly moving on or at
   least reconnoitering the area to see if we can find more supplies...or
   survivors or any kind of resistance and...we work on stripping what we
   can out of the Lodge, and you know there is still a lot of supplies,
   and we could stay on so...we'll wait and see and...we can feel spring
   in the air and one night...
   
   I'm taking a bath and Scully's gone to bed early. Long day. We went
   hunting for fresh meat on the hoof, or the wing, or paw just to vary
   our diet and we have several pheasants and quail in our new fridge.
   Walter cranked it up earlier now that the weather's a bit warmer. The
   gas seems to be holding up. Walter's talking about smoking meat or
   drying jerky. I called him Grizzly Adams and got the look. At any
   rate...Scully was beat and she was out like a light. So, I'm bathing
   and Walter comes in naked, toweling his fringe of hair dry since he
   bathed before me and he puts the damp towel over a bar and...sits on
   the edge of the tub and...we talk. He...clears his throat and
   then...fumbling...his confession of long held desire...interest
   in...experimenting. One last secret evidently, and I smile because
   he's so red and embarrassed and hesitant and...I know this is going to
   be it...because he says...he always wanted it to be me. And, I
   never...ever touched a man that way and neither had he but...we manage
   somehow and Christ...it's fucking wonderful.
   
   Walter is so...it's almost overwhelming...the arousal...and he
   whispers "Mulder...you're so...God...please don't take this the wrong
   way but...you're beautiful," and I chuckle, and smile, and take his
   face in my hands, and...we kiss...and then it's full steam ahead.
   Walter's a feast for the senses...so much muscle compared to me
   and...I explore it all...warm...male, musk scented skin...drawn over
   hard work and road trip, conditioned
   sinew...sucking...licking...touching...tasting...both of us...he goes
   down between my knees...sucking my cock. God he's good at it...and
   then my turn and...I can't quite manage his size...gagging a little
   but he's so excited it doesn't matter and we end up laughing and
   then...
   
   I knew he was gentle with Scully but never imagined just how
   gentle...but...so intense too...barely contained power and then I tell
   him...don't hold it back...don't...I want to feel it all and...he
   almost sobs in my ear, and he tells me..."I did this with
   women...but...tell me...tell me if it hurts," and I think...Scully
   will never know...asleep up in the loft ...crazy guilt for one second
   but it skitters away with Walter's caress on my hips when I bend over
   the vanity and then...and then...Walter put his cock up my ass. God,
   it hurt like hell at first but then, Jesus it was good, so good
   and...thrusting and...and...no prostate exam ever felt like that and
   I'm laughing with joy and so is Walter and moaning and...then I almost
   pass out when I come and Walter finally finishes, bellowing "GOD!" and
   collapsing on my back. Silence, heavy breathing and then..."I do love
   you, Mulder. I meant that," he whispers. "I know...I mean it too," I
   reply, dazed and smiling and content. When we crawl into bed, Scully
   mumbles, "About damn time," and we know she doesn't mean our coming to
   bed and we all laugh and...
   
   April, and one morning Scully gets up and vomits. We pass it
   off...she's queasy but it was probably something she ate. Full day of
   work looking around the personal quarters of the Lodge owners just in
   case there are some seeds left over for the garden they obviously had
   out back. Scully has it in mind to start a garden if we stay on
   longer. We find seeds and they're still good according to the date on
   the packages. Green beans, tomatoes, peas, carrots, and zucchini. What
   the hell, worth a shot when the weather really warms up. I have a
   fleeting thought...we're homesteading. Gee...who'd a thunk it? I
   chuckle when I find the sunflower seeds. Jackpot!
   
   Afterwards, back at the cabin...she falls into bed right after
   dinner...cranky and tired and...we leave her be and Walter and I have
   a game of Tetris and then climb into bed with her and cuddle close. In
   the morning she vomits again and now Walter and I are worried and so
   is she. "Stay in bed...it's got to be the flu," Walter pronounces.
   Right. Flu...and I'm thinking...it's cancer again. I can't help it. My
   hands shake and Walter and I talk in hushed tones while she sleeps and
   he's worried but...asks for symptoms and I remind him about the
   nosebleeds...and she's had none of course. Some relief. He thinks it's
   just a bug really so we stay positive. Walter mans the radio for a
   while...we're still getting static and I can't help but think the ship
   crashing at Christmas monkey wrenched the radio along with Walter. But
   he tries...and we still hope. I fix Scully some 'Celestial Seasonings
   Orange Zinger Tea' and take it up to her.
   
   She's sitting up in bed, a hand rubbing her stomach...pensive look on
   her face. "Hey," I smile. She looks up at me, smiling a little. "Thank
   you," she says. I nod and hand her the tea. "Stomach any better?" I
   ask. "Yes, actually," slightly distracted answer. I feel her head as
   she looks at the mug of tea. "You're not feverish," I observe.
   "No...I'm not...no body aches either..." her voice trails off. I
   wrinkle my brow and when she looks up this time my heart thuds.
   "Mulder...I don't think this is the flu..." but her face...it..."You
   don't think it's cancer either, do you?" I whisper. She puts the mug
   of tea down on the night stand. Looks at me, her eyes fill with tears.
   "No, Mulder...I think I'm pregnant." I just stare at her and
   then..."What?" I whisper. "I think I'm going to have a baby," she
   repeats. "Ok...I thought...I thought that's what you said. But
   Scully...how...I mean...shit I know how but...well...you know what I
   mean," I bluster...completely at a loss. She takes a breath, lets it
   out and then..."You'd better get Walter," and I nod and leave her
   side.
   
   "You think you're what?" Walter blurts out when she delivers the news.
   We go through the drill and he sits down on the edge of the bed,
   speechless. "I know I was sterile," she begins. "But at
   Christmas...after that ship passed over...I had that terrible
   headache...in the back of my neck really...here," she rubs where the
   chip is embedded and realization takes Walter and I at the same time
   and we glance at each other. "You think it...what...tweaked the chip?"
   I ask. "Yes...I think...somehow it did and...I ovulated as a result,
   so guys...one of you is about to be...a father. I'm...I'm sorry," she
   finishes, looking down. "But...you...you didn't bleed," Walter
   rumbles...ears reddening a little. "How can you be so sure?" I ask,
   still bewildered. She looks at us, her eyes swimming in tears. "This
   sounds so stupid but...I just...know. Maybe I only ovulated once and
   one of you...well I never menstruated because we caught things before
   that could happen. And...the vomiting feels just like what my mother
   said morning sickness was like and...I feel different...full...here,"
   she murmurs, touching her stomach.
   
   "God," I whisper. I reach for her hand and Walter moves close and
   touches her knee, his large hand gripping it. She looks up at us both.
   "Don't ever say you're sorry," Walter rumbles, stroking her skin. I
   nod emphatically. Her lips tremble. "I'm so afraid," she whispers.
   Moment of weakness, and we've hardly ever seen her show it, and Walter
   and I draw her close and hug her while she quietly cries. "It'll be
   ok. We'll get through this just like we've gotten through everything
   else," I babble. "Rest...we'll talk about things later...get some
   sleep," Walter adds. She nods. "Drink some tea first," I suggest. She
   wipes her eyes, smiles. The tea goes down and she goes under the
   covers. "I'm not an invalid, you know," she bristles finally sounding
   more like the old Scully as I tuck her in. Walter stands at the foot
   of the bed. "I know...but...you've put in a day and puked your guts up
   this morning. I think you're entitled to some downtime," I chide her.
   "Yes, we'll put you back to work tomorrow, Agent Scully...don't
   worry," Walter chuckles. She gives us the look and we know we'd better
   let her pull her weight or else. She curls back up and we go back
   downstairs.
   
   Walter and I have a bourbon each. We need it. Both of us sit and stare
   at each other...shock. I venture a question I don't want to ask but I
   do anyway. "I...I know you and Sharon were childless...uh...not that I
   want to be...presumptuous but..." he raises a hand to stop my inquiry,
   lowers it when I shut my mouth. "Sharon had trouble...conceiving. When
   she did, she lost the baby late in the pregnancy and it was....very
   difficult. She miscarried early twice after that. We went to a
   specialist to find out what was wrong. The problem was her
   unfortunately. It...the situation was partly responsible for our
   marriage failing. At any rate, my fish swim fine," he explains. "I
   assume they still do," he adds with a shrug. So there's a 50-50 chance
   I guess. Good...maybe it's Walter. Does it matter? Would I have
   preferred it was Walter or not? My genetics...well I'm ambiguous about
   saddling some poor kid with them given what I know about my parentage
   now. But...well...no, it doesn't matter...it's going to
   happen...there's no question...no debate about this baby being born
   and shit...you know...I'm scared but...it's a shared fear and I voice
   my response and then Walter echoes my thoughts.
   
   "Ah," I nod. "I'm really sorry...about Sharon I mean." He nods. "Thank
   you...it was...a long time ago," he replies, his voice caught on the
   memory. We're silent for a few minutes. Then, throat clearing again.
   "And you?" he asks. My brow furrows for a second and then I'm honest.
   "I have no idea...I always used protection before...so...no clue. I
   assume I'm fertile," I shrug as well. He nods again and speaks
   quietly. "It doesn't matter anyway. The kid's going to have two dads
   and one hell of a mom in my opinion. Which one of us is the father is
   a moot point," he replies, reaching for his bourbon again. "I think
   you're absolutely right," I smile back at him. Raise my glass. Toast.
   To Scully. God bless her and the baby both and...
   
   The months pass and oh yeah, Scully's pregnant all right. Her stomach
   swells, and her tits too, and she becomes incredibly beautiful even
   though she thinks she's a cow and says so in moments of self-doubt. We
   cater to her...shamelessly. Make sure she eats right...exercises...she
   wants to kill us at times but we laugh and then so does she.
   
   And...amazing to me...her libido increases which I gather from
   Walter's practical knowledge can be the case, and we both make love
   with her very carefully, and she's so responsive, and afterwards we
   rub her stomach and talk to the baby. Boy or girl? Scully wants a
   baby...she doesn't care about gender...just so it's healthy. I suspect
   Walter wants a boy but won't admit to it. I had a dream...I dreamt it
   was a little girl with brown hair and...I know it's a Samantha fantasy
   and the thought should bother me but it doesn't. I decide healthy is
   the best bet and whatever the stork brings will be fine as well.
   
   One day we're sitting on the couch talking as I'm rubbing her belly
   and I have a bizarre...and gut churning thought...and voice it because
   she sees my furrowed brow, and asks, and by now I know better than not
   to speak up. "What if it's twins?" I blurt out. Quick rueful snort of
   laughter. "God...I hope not," she laughs. "Can we tell without a
   stethoscope?" Walter chimes in from across the room. He's on the radio
   again...ears like a fucking bat though. Turns in his chair...concern
   on his face. Scully ponders. "Get me a glass," she tells Walter. He
   complies, bringing it over and she pulls her collar down...places the
   glass on her chest ...the open end against her skin. "Listen," she
   tells me. I put my ear to the glass' base and do. "Hear my heartbeat?"
   she asks. "Yeah...sounds like a steady drumming," I smile. She grins a
   little. "Ok...now..." she replies, pulling at her shirt. Up comes the
   end and I put the shot glass on her swollen stomach as requested.
   "Listen carefully...move it around...listen for my heartbeat and
   then...the baby's," she instructs quietly. Silence...I slide the glass
   around and around and then I hear it...tiny beating drum and...only
   one heartbeat besides Scully's...I think. Walter stands by in
   anticipation. I double-check. "I'm pretty sure I only hear one baby
   beat," I state, pulling the glass away. Lips on stomach then I mumble
   against Scully's skin. "Hey in there...Mulder to baby...how's it
   going?" and something pokes my cheek and I rear back, eyes wide.
   Walter laughs. I watch and something...a little hand maybe pokes out
   at me from Scully's belly. "Man...the kid's giving me the finger
   already," I quip and Walter slaps me on the back and Scully laughs
   and...
   
   Life goes on. One afternoon Walter and I are outside putting together
   what should be our smoke house. It ain't easy... we have only a
   limited number of nails so we're resorting to a hand drill and wooden
   pegs too. We're taking apart one of the unusable cabins for the wood.
   Kind of scaling one down. It's coming along...and I'm surprised I'm as
   good with the saw as I am. Walter's hammering and suddenly Scully's
   shouting from the cabin, and we run in, and she's sitting in front of
   the radio and it's not static, it's a voice, and it's
   saying..."Pierre, South Dakota...this is Pierre...come in if you hear
   us...come in please..." and the signal is very weak and Scully thumbs
   the mike and shouts "Pierre...this is Canada...near Winnipeg...we hear
   you. Over!" And then a real answer. "Thank God...Canada...I can barely
   hear you. We're here...some of us are here...some of us are
   alive...and we're fighting back...my name is Roger Whitcomb. Over,"
   the voice calls. "Roger...my name is Dana Scully...how many of you are
   there? Over," Scully answers. "Repeat the name...I'm
   sorry...can't...hear you. We're 400 strong...and growing...where are
   you exactly....we...damn it...running out of juice...stay on this
   chan..." and the signal goes to static. "Shit," Walter curses and
   Scully shuts her eyes and bends her head. I put my hand on her
   shoulder and slap Walter on the back. "Hey...that's as close as we've
   gotten," and then we all smile and we know we'll keep checking, tuned
   to Pierre, South Dakota.
   
   And even as she grows larger and starts to waddle around like a
   duck...her words, not ours...Scully still pulls her weight. The garden
   becomes hers...planting...weeding...watering...and she swears she'll
   harvest too and I expect she'll try at least...she's determined to do
   it up right...although we do chip in. But she's down on her knees even
   if we have to help her up and it's remarkable...Scully has a green
   thumb. The garden thrives and so does she...the pregnancy suits her
   and we're very glad.
   
   She sleeps a lot too though...needs her rest and we insist on it. "Get
   off your feet, put them up," Walter orders, old AD voice. Her feet
   swell and it helps to elevate them. She bridles but after he rubs her
   feet for her she sighs with contentment and no more complaining. We
   tuck her into bed and then...Walter and I make love on the couch, as
   quietly as we can and I fuck him face to face, my cock right up that
   wonderfully tight ass and he comes hard...jerking, groaning and
   spurting cum between us. And when I come it's deep inside him and I
   struggle to keep my eyes open, locked with his and I don't even know
   how to describe the feeling of what his eyes look like when he watches
   me. We crawl back into bed and Scully nuzzles Walter and mumbles she
   can smell me on him, and he chuckles, and tells her he was well
   fucked, and I chuckle too.
   
   Continued in Part 2

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