"Stan, I couldn't get to him. He was pinned on the third floor, and all the stairwells were collapsed." The anguish was clearly heard in Mulder's voice, although Skinner knew that it was meaningless to an agent who had just lost a partner.

"Michalski," Skinner said, "it wasn't Mulder's fault. We just couldn't reach him."

Suddenly the agent was right in Skinner's face; the paramedics had to work around him. "I'm not blaming Mulder. I'm blaming you. You're the one they were worried about. You're the one they told him to save. I can't fault him for following orders."

Skinner felt all the color leave his face. Had there been a way to get Keaney down? Had Mulder ignored his personal values and left the man to die? Before he even looked up at an appalled Mulder, Skinner knew the answer. "That's not the way it was, Stan."

"Of course it was!" Then Michalski seemed to deflate before their eyes. In a broken voice he asked, "Did you even try?"

God help them, they hadn't. "We had no way to reach him..." Skinner let his voice trail off. Even though it was the truth, it sounded pretty damned lame.

Someone led Michalski away--Skinner didn't see who, and truth to tell, he didn't care--and horrible reality settled upon him. Oh, Jesus, what had they done?

"Sir?" Scully was leaning in close to him now, carefully staying out of the paramedics' way.

Skinner looked up at her dully.

"You should know... Mulder went back in there on his own. SAC Millea only gave him the order when he called for back-up." She sighed, a cross between a smile and a frown gracing her face. "Mulder told him to fuck off."

Skinner wasn't certain he understood where this was leading. If Millea told Mulder to rescue him, why tell the man to fuck off when Mulder was doing the very thing Millea ordered him to do?

"Millea told him to forget about Keaney and just concentrate on getting you out. Can you believe it? He actually said that, and over an open line. Mulder said no, that if there was a way to get to Keaney, he'd do it."

"So that's who it was," Skinner said softly.

"You heard?"

"Not words. Just a voice. Yelling."

Scully looked confused. "He didn't yell, sir." Skinner looked at her sharply. "He was actually very calm about it." She added under her breath, "For a dickhead."

"Then who...?"

Scully thought a moment, and then looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Oh. That must have been Michalski you heard. He was listening to the whole conversation and sort of... lost it."

Skinner stared up at her and swallowed. "Understandable," he said, then closed his eyes. Skinner couldn't help but wonder... if it had been him up there, would his agent have tried harder? Would he have found a way if it was "the AD?" Was the rescue dismissed summarily because it wasn't? Because it was "just an agent?" God, he hoped not. But he feared it was true. However unconsciously, Mulder had left that man to die. And Skinner had let him.

He felt a touch on his shoulder but was too tired and too disheartened to open his eyes. "They're taking you to the hospital now, sir. If you don't mind, Mulder and I would like to come, too."

"If you want," he said.

Then her hand was gone, and he felt like an artery had been severed. All his strength left him; he was overwhelmed with fatigue and, God, he was so cold.

The slamming of a door frightened him awake. He looked around, disconcerted, the surroundings unfamiliar. "Easy, sir. We're taking you to the hospital now." A blanket was spread over him, and Scully's face came into focus behind it.

"Do you have another one?"

The agent knit her brows aw confusion. "Sir?"

"Another blanket." He shivered.

Turning to the paramedic, she whispered to the woman. Even as Scully smoothed the added blanket over him, the paramedic was injecting something into one of the IV tubes.

"I thought you left," he said softly.

Again, confusion. "I told you Mulder and I were coming to the hospital."

He nodded. So she did.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

His eyes held hers for a moment. "We didn't try to get him out."

"Who? Keaney?"

Skinner nodded. "We as good as gave him up for dead."

"Sir, I know Mulder. And I know you. Neither of you would have abandoned a man to die."

"We did."

"You didn't. If there was a way to get to him, Mulder would have taken it--and you know it."

"Do I? He was under orders--"

"Sir," she said quietly. "You've been around Mulder long enough to know that if it came to a choice between following orders or following his conscience, the order goes right out the window."

"But what if he wasn't aware of it, Scully? What if somewhere deep in his subconscious, Mulder gave up? I'm not blind. On more than one occasion I've seen Keaney belittling Mulder. Maybe--"

"No, sir," she hissed through her teeth. "Not for that. Mulder would ignore him or hit him, but he would never abandon him. Not consciously, not subconsciously."

She studied him for a minute, and Skinner thought she might be looking right into his soul. When he saw the light dawn in her eyes, he was sure she could.

Her face creased in sympathy. "Mulder didn't give up on him." She covered a bandage-wrapped hand with her own. "Neither did you," she said softly.

He felt his voice choked with emotion, but it was necessary to make her understand. "I didn't even try, Scully. Don't you get it? Mulder said no, and I accepted it."

"You were hurt and you were scared. There was nothing you could have done."

"But even if there was... I never bothered to pursue the matter. I accepted the decision on Mulder's say-so alone."

"Sir..." She waited until he looked at her. "I know that even though you and Mulder have had your differences, you respect his skill as an agent. Even more importantly, you respect him as a human being. You know his values; you've experienced them first-hand."

He nodded.

"Knowing Mulder as you do, why would you not accept a decision on his say-so alone? I believe you took into account the situation and came to the same conclusion. Mulder's voicing it only solidified what must have been an excruciating realization: that you were leaving a man to die. That there was no way you could save him. That no matter what you may have wanted, you were powerless to change the outcome. That's what's eating at you. Not that you didn't save him, but that you couldn't."

He stared at her. Could she be right?

"I'll.. have to think about that, Scully."

"I wish you would, sir. You did nothing wrong." She pulled the blanket up over his shoulder where it had slipped down. "But why don't you wait until you're feeling better? The world looks a lot less bleak when you're not in pain."

"Okay." He'd grant her that.

She smiled and laid a hand on his arm. "We'll be at the hospital in a few minutes. I'm pretty sure they're going to admit you. Do you want anything from your apartment?"

"Just a change of clothes."

"Um... do you have any sort of sweatpants? Something with an elastic waistband? Because I don't think you'll be doing any buttoning up for the next few days with those hands."

"They're in... one of the drawers. I don't remember which."

"It's all right, sir. We'll find them."

"We?"

"Me. Mulder, too, probably. Unless you'd rather send someone else?"

"No, no. That's fine, Agent Scully. You'll need the keys..." He automatically started to reach for them, then froze.

"Do you want me to get them, sir? Are they in this pocket?" She indicated the one he had been aiming for.

"Yes."

He lay perfectly still while her hand slid down his hip to his thigh. Her hand clenched around the bunch of keys and drew them out. "Which one's to your apartment?"

"The square one."

She picked out a key and pulled it away from the others. "This one?"

He nodded. "You'll need the one for the outside door, too." After he showed her which one it was, she dropped the key ring into her jacket pocket.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly.

The fire in his hands had dulled considerably, and his surroundings were dimming. "A little... disjointed. What did you have them give me?"

"Just something to take the edge off the pain. You were getting a little shocky."

"Mm." So that's why he wasn't freezing any longer.

They both remained silent while the paramedic took Skinner's vitals and relayed them to the hospital. Their ETA was two minutes.

"I'll take care of the paperwork at the hospital, okay, sir?"

"Oh. Yes. Thanks."

"Then Mulder and I will drive to your place. By the time we get back, you should be just about settled into a room."

"Right."

"If you think of anything else you need, have someone give a call on my cell phone."

"All right." Skinner suddenly smiled. "You're doing a fine job of keeping me awake, Agent Scully, but the splinters in my hands are doing that quite nicely, thank you."

Instead of returning his smile, her expression saddened. "I know. I'm sorry. But we didn't want to give you enough to put you out."

"Because of the concussion."

She nodded apologetically, sighing.

"It's all right, Scully. I understand."

The ambulance came to a halt, and Scully moved out of the way so the paramedic could get in position to move Skinner out. The door opened, and the two paramedics whisked him away so fast it made him dizzy. Despite his best efforts, Skinner felt himself slipping into darkness.

He didn't resist.

The voices were hushed, and he couldn't understand them, but they were strangely comforting. Familiar, yet not. Voices he knew, yet couldn't place. Whispers. He was in a hospital, he suddenly remembered. The voices--people--were being considerate. Not wanting to disturb him, waiting for him to wake.

Somehow this warmed him. Dispelled a little of the chill he felt when he recalled how he came to be in the hospital. At whose expense he was alive.

His eyes opened and settled on the voices.

He knew it would be them. A whole contingent of agents was most likely right outside his door, but only Scully and Mulder were at his side. "Thank you for keeping the wolves at bay, Agent Scully."

Her conversation stopped in mid-word, and she stepped closer. "Actually, it was Mulder. I don't know how, but he got them all to go home."

Skinner turned to Mulder expectantly; the agent gave a lopsided smile. "Actually, it wasn't me. I talked until I was blue in the face, but they wouldn't budge." Mulder looked embarrassed at that admission. "AD Johnson was standing around the corner. He sent them all on their way."

"Where is he now?"

"Gone home," Mulder answered. "He stayed awhile, but the doctor said he thought you'd probably sleep a few more hours, and you were out of danger, so he left."

"What time is it?"

"Quarter to one," Scully replied, yawning.

Skinner was dismayed. "Why are you still here? Don't you two have to be at work in the morning?"

Mulder hid a yawn behind his hand. "Yes, sir, but we didn't want you to... Um... we just thought... when you woke..." The agent looked down at the floor as if by not meeting his eyes he could avoid his boss's disapproval.

"Mulder," Skinner said softly, and the agent looked up. "Thanks. I appreciate it. You, too, Scully." Mulder was right: he felt better just knowing there was someone waiting for him. He skewered both agents with his eyes. "Now get home and get some sleep."

The agents grinned tiredly. "Yes, sir."

Skinner watched the group of agents file out of his office, while two others filed in.

"Please." He motioned Mulder and Scully to the pair of chairs in front of his desk.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Scully asked as she lowered herself into her seat.

The AD knew she was asking after his mental health as well as physical. "Better, Agent Scully. Thank you." That little talk with Scully had finally sunk in, and he did feel much better about the situation. He shifted his gaze to Mulder and found the agent avoiding eye contact. Scully must have mentioned their conversation to him.

"Agent Mulder."

The male agent looked up reluctantly.

"Do you have that report I asked for?"

"Yes, sir." Mulder hesitated momentarily before placing the folder in Skinner's bandaged hand.

Skinner sat back and sighed, not looking at the report in front of him. "Mulder, it wasn't my intention to doubt your integrity. I realize there was nothing you could have done for Keaney."

Mulder's eyes flicked to his, then retreated to his hands in his lap. "I tried," he said very softly. His head raised, and he met Skinner's puzzled gaze. "When you passed out. The two times I actually got the rope to reach, there was nothing for it to grab onto. Then the explosion, and..." The agent shook his head in defeat. "And then his body, lying there, and I just left it." His eyes darted to Scully and then back to Skinner. "Because I was afraid. I left him because I was afraid of the fire."

The AD stared at him. It wasn't as though Skinner had forgotten that he wasn't alone in that building--he had just forgotten that he wasn't the only one who'd left a man. Here he was so concerned about Mulder's feelings toward his comments, that he had completely overlooked Mulder's feelings toward abandoning a fellow agent.

"He was already dead, Mulder. Even if you had gotten to him, there was nothing you could have done." He softened his voice. "Let it go."

His agent was studying him with a look Skinner was seeing more and more of these days: disbelief, hope, and then finally, acceptance. Skinner almost smiled at how far they'd progressed.

At the agent's barely imperceptible nod, Skinner broke eye contact, turning his attention to his desk. "I have something I want you to check out."

"On the bombing suspect, sir?" Mulder was back to business-efficient.

Skinner nodded his head and reached into his middle drawer, withdrawing a cassette tape. "This was here when I arrived." Mulder took the tape from Skinner. "It was already here when Kimberly arrived." He met his agents' eyes. "It wasn't there Friday night, according to her."

"It's been checked for prints already?"

Skinner nodded. "Wiped clean."

"What's on it?" Scully asked.

The AD drew in a deep breath. "A song. American Pie. You know it?"

They both nodded. "Who doesn't?" Mulder said.

Skinner watched as each agent mentally played the song in their heads. They looked up almost simultaneously.

"This'll be the day that I die?" Scully beat Mulder to it.

"Is this personal?" Mulder asked, holding up the tape, and Skinner detected the alarm in his voice.

"I'm not sure," Skinner replied.

"The tip about the arms exchange was called in to you, wasn't it?" Mulder stabbed him with piercing eyes. "Someone wanted to be sure you were in that building."

The AD nodded. "And on the top floor. If Danon hadn't found that first bomb and cleared the floor, Keaney wouldn't have been the only fatality." Skinner frowned. "The only thing troubling me, though, is..." He sighed deeply. "He's provided me with information before."

"With the stipulation that you personally conduct each raid?"

Skinner nodded. "Or that would be the end of it."

"And you weren't suspicious?" Mulder's tone was incredulous.

"Of course, I was," he snapped. "But after six operations--good ones, too--" His anger dissipated. "I relaxed my guard, I guess."

Mulder fingered the tape. "Is this from the same guy?"

"I have no way of knowing, Agent Mulder. I can only assume that it is."

"You didn't bring this up at the meeting, did you?" Scully asked.

Skinner shook his head. "Only you and Mulder know about the tape."

"Why did you hold this back, sir?" Scully's question was asked very quietly.

"Because if it is personal..." He swallowed. He didn't particularly want them involved, either, but he couldn't do it alone. Hell, he couldn't even tie his shoes alone. "...I don't want the whole Bureau to know my business." He met each of their eyes, hoping that they understood the faith he had placed in them.

"They won't, sir," Scully averred. "But this is an official investigation, isn't it? Even if it turns out--"

"It is," he cut her off, then purposely softened his voice. "I don't expect any special treatment, Agent Scully, but I'd prefer not to be the subject of the lunchroom gossips."

"No, sir," she answered.

He looked at Mulder; the agent nodded solemnly, and Skinner was sorry he'd utilized that particular analogy. Mulder had been the topic of many a lunchtime discussion.

God, this emotional shit was for the birds. "That'll be all," he said gruffly. "Let me know as soon as you find anything."

The agents practically bolted out of their chairs. "Yes, sir," they said, making for the door.

"Mulder. Scully."

Mulder was reaching for the door, his hand on his partner's back, about to usher her out. Their heads turned, and he read the puzzlement on both faces.

"Thanks."

The briefest flicker of surprise flashed through their eyes, and they nodded. Mulder opened the door, and his agents left quietly.

Skinner dragged the pad of paper over from the corner of his desk, then cursed when the bandages on his fingers wouldn't let him hold onto a pencil for more than two seconds at a time. He picked it up once more so that he could throw it down in disgust.

He leaned back and began mentally composing his own list of suspects.

End of part 2/4