TITLE: CHICAGO SERIES: D.C. RESTORED - Slash
AUTHOR: WPAdmirer@aol.com 
ARCHIVE: Yes, but please write and tell me where.
CATEGORY: Slash Crossover (XF-ER) Skinner/John Carter, AU (Alternate Universe - cause damnit, I like the beard)
SPOILERS: SR 819 (X-Files), None (ER)
RATING: PG-13, language
SUMMARY: John confronts Walter about the events of SR 819.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me. The full set of stories (thus far) can be found at the ER nfic site: http://www.oocities.org/TelevisionCity/Studio/5437/wpadmirer.htm   and
my own site, which is all updated complete with a zip file of the stories:
http://chateauke.simplenet.com/chimerical/chicago/index.htm
DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately. Mulder is only visiting.
SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and ewade for beta reading and friendship.

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D.C. RESTORED

by WPAdmirer

John felt at home the minute the plane landed in D.C. He followed Mulder out to his car, and happily watched as they passed through the dark streets. He knew this route. Knew these streets, even in the dark. In fact, he generally saw them in the wee hours of the morning like this. Trying to squeeze in a day with Walter usually required traveling in the middle of the night.

When they reached Walter's building, John took the lead, unlocking the front door, nodding to the security guard at the desk. When they got to the apartment, John started to unlock the door and Mulder stopped him.

"Don't you think we should knock?"

"Do you want to wake him up?" John smiled as Mulder considered this.

"So you're just going to walk in on him?"

"Yeah." John opened the door and walked in. The apartment was dark, but he knew his way around. He went to Walter's desk and clicked on the lamp. A small pool of yellow light barely illuminated the room. John saw the envelope sitting next to Walter's keys. He reached out and touched it. More lies. "I'll go wake him up. You wait here."

John dropped his backpack next to the desk and headed upstairs. At the door to the bedroom he stopped. There was no light, but he knew that Walter was in the bed. Knew which side of the bed, how his pillow would be angled under his head, the fact that he was naked under the sheets.

He walked to the bed and knelt down next to him. He could hear him breathing, almost feel the heat radiating off his body. For a moment John Carter felt a sadness well up inside him, threatening to release in tears, but he stopped it. Forced it back. Walter had lied to him. He'd been so sick, and he hadn't trusted him enough to tell him. All those letters, all those wonderful words of love, but it wasn't enough. John felt abandoned.

Mulder was waiting. This was not going to be pretty. John took a deep breath, then he spoke, "Walter?"

Walter's eyes snapped open immediately. He looked terrified. John knew better than to touch him. He spoke again, softly, "Walter, it's me, John Carter."

He heard the exhalation. Then, "Oh, God," and Walter sat up. The sheets fell away from his body and John could just make out his shape in the dark. "John Carter. What are you doing here?"

John reached out to take his hand, and Walter pulled away, moving quickly further toward the center of the bed. John was stunned. He stood up, turning away. "I'll be in the living room. Get dressed. Mulder's with me."

"Mulder?"

"Yes." John left the room before Walter could say anymore. When he saw Mulder sitting on the couch he wanted to take something heavy and beat him in the head with it. He wanted to turn Mulder into bloody pulp.

"Is he coming down here?"

John nodded, not trusting his voice. Not sure that he wouldn't say something to Mulder that he'd regret. He went to the sliding glass doors, unlocked them and stepped out onto the balcony. The cold air swirled around him, chilling his face, making his eyes tear. That was what it was.  The cold wind. He wiped at the dampness on his face. Walter had pulled away from him. Walter had pulled away from his touch. He'd been here the whole time, and the letters had all been lies.

He'd never been so angry in his life. Not when Bobby died. Not when Chase had OD'd.. Never been so fucking enraged at anything or anyone in his whole fucking life.

He heard Walter's voice in the living room. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing bringing him here?"

"If you had been honest with me, I wouldn't have gone to find him. How the hell was I to know you've been fucking a man?"

The next sound was the thump of flesh on flesh, followed immediately by a howl of pain. Mulder. John grabbed the railing of the balcony. It felt like ice against his hands. He leaned over and looked down. Seventeen floors was a long way. He felt dizzy, stepped back and let go of the metal.

"John Carter."

In the background Mulder was still ranting and raving at no one and everyone.

John couldn't turn around. The cold wind was making his eyes burn and water like crazy.

"I didn't know how to tell you."

He felt Walter's hands on his shoulders. "You died."

"Yes."

"Was it them? The people you told me about?"

"Yes."

John Carter nodded. "Why did you pull away from me?"

"We don't know how I was infected. It may have been passed by touch."

"You think you'll pass it to me."

"I can't take a chance."

The sliding glass doors slammed open all the way. "I think you broke my damn nose."

Walter and John turned around. Mulder's nose was dripping blood and swelling. John stepped around Walter. He gently examined Mulder's face. "You're right. It's broken."

"Thank you very much, sir. Now I can get that nose job I always dreamed of." Mulder's sarcastic tone was lost on both of them.

"You're lucky I don't toss you off this balcony."

"Can we go inside and talk? I can't believe this. You both punched me in the nose." Mulder turned and stomped back inside. 

John started to follow, but Walter's hand on his arm stopped him. "I know this is worse than what you...." Walter's voice was quiet. "I...need you to forgive me for this. Please."

"The letters."

"All true. Every word."

John sighed. "I wish you trusted me."

Walter nodded. "I was afraid. I am afraid."

"Are you coming in here or what?" Mulder's voice almost sounded shrill.

"I want to forgive you."

"Thank you."

They went back inside. Mulder was pacing, swearing a blue streak and holding a baggie filled with ice to his face.

"What do you want, Mulder?" Walter's voice had grown hard in the four steps from the balcony to just inside the living room.

"I want to know what the fuck is going on. Why did you give us the bum's rush in your office today? Do you know who did this to you?"

Walter took a deep breath and John Carter watched him marshal his patience. "Mulder, how many times do I have to impress upon you and Agent Scully that my office is not the best place to talk to me?"

Mulder stopped pacing and looked taken aback. His mouth dropped open, but he didn't say a word.

"In my office I am watched. Everything I say is heard. And, yet, both of you insist on marching in there and demanding that I help you. That I give you information. That I open investigations into the very damn people that are probably taping every fucking word we say. I can't authorize your investigation, you dumb shit. If I do, I am a dead man. Do I have to take out a fucking billboard to get that point across to you and Scully?"

The veins in Walter's forehead were pulsing. John wanted to reach out and touch him, calm him down. But maybe it was better to let him get this out.  Maybe he could convince this Mulder not to do him any more harm than had already been done.

"And as for anything else, Agent Mulder," Walter continued. "Yes, I know who the man is that holds my life in his hands, and no, I'm not giving you his name. Because you will go after him and he will kill me and leave me dead this time. I do not want to die. And I don't want you out there stirring things up. Leave it the fuck alone, Mulder."

All the color had gone out of Mulder's face. He walked to the couch and sat down heavily. John wondered if he should be concerned.

"Do you want me to take care of him, Walter?"

Walter turned and stared. Then he seemed to remember that John was there, that he'd been there. "Yeah, go ahead."

Mulder's skin was cool, but not clammy. His pulse was strong. His left eye was starting to swell shut. The nose was definitely broken. "How do you feel?"

"How do you think I feel? My fucking nose is broken." Mulder spoke softly.

"We should get you to the ER. Where's the nearest hospital?"

"I'm not going to the hospital."

John shook his head. "You need to have your nose set."

Mulder pushed him away. "I'm not going."

"Oh for Christ's sake," Walter muttered. He walked over, pulled Mulder's hand from his face and looked at the wounded appendage. Then he grabbed it firmly and pushed. Mulder howled with pain, but John had to smile. It was crude, but effective.

"Walter, I didn't know you practiced medicine."

Walter grinned. "I learned to do that in the gym. Boxers get a lot of broken noses."

Mulder was rocking back and forth. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" There was no doubt that it hurt, but John Carter couldn't help thinking he was going a little overboard about it all.

"Put the ice back on it," John instructed, placing the baggie against Mulder's face, then putting his hand on it to hold it in place.

"Maybe next time you won't be stupid enough to go trampling around my private life, Mulder," Walter growled.

"I never would have pegged you for a switch hitter," Mulder muttered.

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, Mulder, but it's just because of a lack of imagination on your part."

Mulder glared at Walter with his one open eye.

Walter dropped into the easy chair next to the couch. "Is there anything else you want to get out in the open before you leave?"

"I'm not going to let this go," Mulder stated flatly.

Walter shook his head and looked at John. Then he looked back at Mulder. "Go home. Get some sleep. Tomorrow night come back here and we'll talk. Don't do anything until then, or so help me God, I'll kick your ass from here to next week before I die."

Mulder didn't respond. He simply got up and walked out of the apartment, slamming the door as he left.

Walter leaned back in the chair and looked tired. "When do you go back to Chicago?"

"This afternoon."

The room was beginning to get lighter with the rising sun. John watched as the dim, grey light coming in through the glass doors grew brighter.


"It's not just the things in my blood," Walter started.

John moved down the couch to be closer to him. Walter's voice was so soft he could barely hear it.

"The damage was all vascular." Walter's face was turned toward the balcony. His dark eyes lighter in this light. "I can't...." He stopped and covered his eyes with one large hand.

"I love Walter Skinner," John said softly. "But I've never been so angry with anyone in my life."

Walter flinched.

"That you would think, after all we've been through, that I would turn away from you...." John's voice faltered. "Goddamn you. I heard it from a fucking stranger. I had a stranger tell me that you died."

There was silence and then John Carter heard Walter snort. He watched him carefully. His shoulders were shaking. Was he crying? Then Walter guffawed. That was the only word for it. He laughed loudly. John felt his pulse pounding in his temples. The bastard was laughing!

"Who the hell do you think would tell you I'd died? Jesus Christ, John Carter, do you know how dumb that sounded?" Then Walter burst out laughing again.

He was going to kill him. There had to be something heavy enough in this apartment to just bludgeon the man to death. Maybe a barbell tucked away in a closet somewhere. "Don't laugh at me. Dammit, you know what I mean."

Walter nodded and started to laugh again.

"You're really pissing me off." John got up and began pacing the room.

Walter got himself under control. "I'm sorry. John Carter, I'm sorry. It's just been a long hard three weeks. I think I'm punchy."

John stopped pacing and looked at the man. Dark brown eyes looked directly at him. He looked pale. "I want to touch you."

"We can't take that chance."

"I want to see the medical record. I want to know what happened exactly."

Walter nodded. He got up from the chair and walked to John. "I'll get you everything. No more secrets. I promise."

John nodded. They stood a less than a foot apart and suddenly John knew that this was a nightmare that he couldn't bear. Before Walter could move away he reached out and grabbed his hand. He pulled it up to his face and kissed it.

"Jesus! John Carter!" Walter tried to pull away, but it was too late.

"Safe sex, Walter. That's as far as I'll go. I can't live without touching you. I don't want to."

Walter seemed frozen, then he pulled John Carter close. John laid his head against Walter's chest, heard his heartbeat pounding a little too fast. He felt warm and strong and solid and John Carter knew that he wasn't going to die. He just couldn't.


The End