TITLE: Follow the Leader (4/4)
AUTHOR:  Jo-Ann Lassiter
EMAIL ADDRESS: jolassi555@cs.com
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT:  Post anywhere. Thanks.
SPOILER WARNING:  "Fire," "Redux II."
RATING: PG-13 for swear words and violence
CLASSIFICATION: S, A
KEY WORDS: Mulder/Scully/Skinner friendship
SUMMARY: When an informant offers Skinner a piece of vital
information that must be obtained at any cost, the X-Files agents
strive to prevent that cost being the AD's life.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Although this has an actual plot, with a resolution
and everything, it's (as usual) more a character study than an
action-adventure story.
THANKS: To my beta readers: Gerry, Jill, Cheryl, Darla and Jackie.
Their help, as always, was invaluable. 

Follow the Leader (4/4)
by Jo-Ann Lassiter
70302.3654@compuserve.com

Skinner closed his eyes and slid down the tree trunk to the ground.
His arm was throbbing, his hands hurt so much they were almost
numb, and a steady stream of tears flowed from eyes that felt like
they'd absorbed an entire forest.

"Sir?"

His eyes sprang open at the harsh whisper. He scanned the
surrounding woods trying to locate its source. "Mulder?"

After a brief hesitation, "No, sir. It's me. Stan Michalski." The
still-whispered answer came from behind him, off to his left.
Skinner chanced a look in that direction, and Michalski gave a
quick wave.

"Michalski... Are you here with the team?" Skinner ducked back
under cover.

"Yes, sir. They're rounding up the militants."

"Mulder and Scully? Are they all right?" The reply was a long time
in coming, and Skinner feared the worst. "Michalski?"

"They didn't make it, sir."

Skinner felt sick. After all they'd been through, to die like
this... "Are you sure?" His voice broke, but he didn't really care
what Michalski thought of him at this moment.

"Yes, sir. I saw..." He stopped; Skinner wasn't sure he wanted to
ask him to continue.

"What, Michalski?" he asked softly.
"I saw their bodies." 

That was it then. All that fighting for Scully's life, Mulder's
all-encompassing search for the truth... It all ended because they
had to go and obey a damned order for once. Skinner suddenly
apreciated the fact that his eyes were already tearing.

"Sir?"

Michalski's voice pulled him back to the situation at hand. "Yeah?"

"Your sniper. Draw his fire for a second, would you?" the agent
whispered. "I don't think he's seen me."

Skinner nodded. He pointed his gun in the general direction of the
sniper, gritted his teeth and squeezed the trigger. Immediately, a
hail of gunfire greeted him. He heard Michalski fire once, twice,
three times, and then a satisfying "plop" was heard as the sniper
fell out of his tree.

"All clear, sir. You can come out now." Skinner looked where
Michalski's voice was coming from and saw the agent kneeling next
to a body. 

Very cautiously, the AD ventured out into the open, scanning the
trees for more snipers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted
that his eyes had finally stopped tearing, and that he could blink
without too much discomfort. Thank God for small miracles. "Good
job, Stan. Thanks." He forced a smile onto his face. After all,
this agent had just saved his life; he didn't deserve the sight of
an AD falling on his ass, which is what Skinner really felt like
doing. 

He suddenly noticed the absence of gunfire--the absence of any
sound at all. The other agents should have reached them by now; at
the very least, the controlled mayhem of an operation should be in
evidence. Instead there was only quiet.

"You're wounded," Michalski stated.

Skinner wanted to laugh. He imagined he looked like he'd been run
over by a train. At least that's what it felt like. But he was
still the AD. "Yeah, it's okay, though. I've had worse."

"I know," Michalski said, as he brought his rifle to bear on
Skinner's chest.

"Michalski, what..." All of a sudden, it all clicked into place.
"There are no reinforcements, are there?"

Michalski shook his head. "And no militants. Your man was alone."

Unrealistically, Skinner's spirits perked. If Michalski lied about
the militants and he lied about the team's being there... "Mulder
and Scully? The explosion?"

"They were already out of the car when your sniper hit it with the
bazooka." 

Even with a rifle pointed at him, Skinner felt almost giddy with
relief. Collings hadn't killed them after all.

Michalski smiled at Skinner, and the AD felt his blood freeze in
his veins. "Unfortunately, they were dead at the time."

"What?" It was the most coherent thought Skinner could voice.

Michalski looked wistful. "Death by explosion would have been
better for them. It's so much more... permanent."

Skinner was shocked. "That was you I heard firing? At Mulder and
Scully?"

"I really didn't want to do it. I like..." He paused. "...liked
Agent Scully." He shrugged. "Mulder was a jerk, though. It's okay
that he's dead."

"Jesus, Stan. Listen to yourself. You just killed two people in
cold blood. How will you be able to live with yourself knowing
you're responsible for the deaths of two of your fellow agents?"

"Three," Michalski said, smiling. "Although you're high above we
mere agents, aren't you *Assistant Director?*"

"Is this about Keaney?" Skinner asked quietly.

"Yes, it's about Keaney, goddammit! You *left* him there! You and
Mulder just left him there to die!"

"Stan, listen to me. We tried. Mulder tried to get to him. There
was just no way--"

"Shut up!" Michalski screeched. "Your precious Mulder ran back in
for *you.* He had no intention of rescuing Keaney."

"Because he didn't know about him when he went in. Once he found
that Keaney was trapped, though, he tried to reach him."

"But he didn't." Michalski's voice was very quiet.

"He *couldn't,* Skinner stressed. 

"Forget it, Skinner. I've heard the lies already. I was standing
next to Millea when he gave the order."

"Michalski, Mulder didn't--"

"I said shut up!" Michalski's screams were becoming hysterical.
"He's dead. You're alive." Michalski smiled. "But not for long." 

Everything slowed then, from the rifle's moving up to point right
between Skinner's eyes to Michalski's finger tightening on the
trigger to the agent's pitching forward to sprawl at Skinner's
feet.

He stared at Michalski's body a second, then lifted his head,
blinking in disbelief when he saw Mulder limping toward him.

"Are you all right, sir?" the agent said, huffing painfully.

The AD nodded, still a little in shock by the whole turn of events.
His eyes met Mulder's. "Scully?"

Mulder indicated the road with his head. "Back there. She caught a
little of the concussion from the blast. She's okay, though. Just
not up to running in here and saving your life," he said, just
before he swayed and landed on his knees.

"Doesn't look like you got away clean, either," Skinner told him,
noting the dilated pupils. "What did you do? Recover before her and
tell her you weren't hurt?"

Mulder grinned up at him, then grimaced and rubbed his chest--in
exactly the spot a very neat bullet hole was etched. He unbuttoned
his overcoat and slipped a hand under the kevlar vest, massaging
what Skinner remembered from experience to be a very painful
bruise.

"Did Scully take one in the chest, too?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," Mulder breathed out. "She's gonna have one helluva black
and blue." The agent started to stand up. "Let's get back to her.
I don't want to..." Mulder paled and instead of rising, fell back
down heavily; he looked up at Skinner. "I hate to ask you, sir,
but..."

Skinner leaned over and held out a hand. Mulder latched onto the
AD's forearm, and Skinner pulled him to his feet. "Okay, Agent
Mulder?"

The agent's eyes were slightly unfocused, but he nodded, stumbling
back to stand on his own. "I'm a little wobbly, but I can walk.
What about you?"

Skinner considered keeping up the facade, but quickly changed his
mind when he saw the sincere concern on his agent's face. "Same
here," he said, suppressing a smile as Mulder raised an eyebrow in
surprise. 

"Let's go then, shall we?" Mulder said.

Skinner nodded and took a step. Mulder took a step and fell onto
his face. Skinner sighed and picked his agent up. "Why don't you
just let me help you, Mulder? It doesn't look like you'll be making
your way out any too soon, and I don't think Scully will be too
happy if I left you lying on your face in the dirt."

Mulder's eyes met Skinner's. "You look like you could use a little
help yourself."

Skinner chuckled. "I don't doubt it." Then he eyed his agent
critically. "But I don't have a concussion."

Mulder stared a moment, then nodded. The AD supported the agent
with an arm around his waist, and Mulder's arm draped over the AD's
shoulder in return. Skinner braced himself for the shock of
Mulder's hand hitting his sore arm, but the agent hooked his arm
around Skinner's neck instead. Skinner looked at him, thoroughly
surprised. 

"Don't want to bite the hand that's feeding me--so to speak,"
Mulder said.

Too weary to smile, Skinner simply nodded and started them on their
way. "How are you doing, Mulder?" Skinner asked, after they'd gone
a few steps.

"Fine," the agent said.

"Fine enough to tell me what happened back there? Michalski said he
shot you and Scully before the car exploded."

"Yes, sir," Mulder said. "He caught us flat-footed." Skinner heard
anger and glanced at his agent's face. "We got out as soon as we
heard the first shot..." Skinner sighed, partly in frustration over
his agents' overt disobedience to his specific order, and partly in
gratitude that they never even considered obeying it. "...and he
was down the road, about a hundred feet behind us, waving. Scully
walked over to me, waved back, and he raised his rifle and shot
her." Mulder swallowed and closed his eyes. "At that moment, when
Scully went down without a sound, I understood how he felt, and why
he was doing what he was doing. I wanted to kill him myself."
Mulder veered off suddenly toward a tree trunk lying on its side.
"I'm sorry," he panted, wheezing. "I need to sit a minute."

"Mulder? Sir?" 

Caught off guard by Scully's voice, Skinner had to catch a very
surprised Mulder as the man nearly toppled from his perch. "Agent
Scully?" Checking with Mulder and receiving an emphatic nod that he
was all right, Skinner hurried to the shaky female agent and helped
her over to the log.

"Thank you, sir," she said, sitting beside her partner. She ran her
eyes up and down Skinner, not missing his wounded arm, his
unbandaged hands or, he imagined, his bark-pocked face. "I called
for the EMT's and backup," she said, taking hold of his arm and
starting to examine it. "What happened to your face and eyes?"

He sighed. "Never use a tree as cover, Agent Scully."

Briefly glancing away from the bullet wound, she inspected his
face. "Your eyes seem clear now. Were the particles cleansed by
your natural optic secretions?"

It took him a heartbeat to decipher what she'd asked him. "Yes," he
answered, smiling to himself and silently thanking Scully for
finding a dignified way of asking him if he'd cried them out.

"And your hands? The bandages?" She nodded to the appendages in
question.

"I needed to use my weapon." That seemed to satisfy her, and she
returned her concentration to his arm. He didn't miss her wince of
pain as she moved her head too quickly. "Actually, I seem to have
come out of this better than you two."

She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm all right." He followed her
gaze to Mulder, who looked to be on the verge of collapse. "I think
you may be right about him, though." She let go of Skinner's arm.
"The bullet just nicked you. It doesn't look too bad."

"Agent Mulder was telling me about the two of you and Michalski. Do
you remember anything after you were shot? Michalski thought you
were dead."

She nodded. "He was pretty far down the road, so he aimed for the
chest. I went down, but I wasn't unconscious. I heard Mulder shout,
and then he was down. We had no cover, and he had a rifle. All in
all, it seemed that the best way to stay alive was to play dead."

Skinner was slightly confused. "I heard a car, but that was after
Michalski had already arrived."

Scully thought for a moment. "Michalski got back in his car when
the first explosion hit. I felt Mulder tugging on my arm, saying
that we had to get away from the car. Michalski or no, if we were
next to it when it exploded..." She left the thought unfinished.
"We managed to get a few feet away before the next shell hit. I
don't remember anything until I woke up and found *him* on top of
me." She glanced over at her partner with an expression of annoyed
affection.

Mulder picked up the story, his voice softer than normal, Skinner
noted. "I heard firing back here. Michalski's car was behind ours,
but he was nowhere to be seen. Scully was a little out of it, but
otherwise okay, so I came after him." He shrugged. "You know the
rest."

Scully scowled at her partner. "Well, *I* don't."
Mulder's look of schoolboy guilt almost made Skinner laugh, until
the agent looked at him pleadingly. "Sir, would you mind? I don't
feel too well." 

"What's wrong, Mulder?" Scully asked, her voice softer.

He turned to his partner, looking for all the world like a man
about to face a firing squad. "My side hurts."

Skinner exchanged a look with Scully, confirming that they both
feared the same thing: internal bleeding. "Any idea on the ETA of
the medics, Scully?"

"About thirty minutes from when I called." She glanced at her
watch. "About twenty now." Scully bit her bottom lip, clearly
worried. "Sir..."

Skinner nodded; while Scully unbuttoned Mulder's coat, the AD stood
up. "I'm going to get Michalski's keys. Maybe we can meet them
partway." 

Hardly feeling his own injuries, Skinner ran to where the fallen
agent lay. As he pulled the keys from Michalski's coat pocket, it
struck him how just one incident, one minute, could change--or
end--a person's life. He stared at Michalski a moment, gave a
fleeting glance to the forgotten briefcase full of cash, then
hurried back to Mulder.

"Don't be such a baby. Just hold it there while I check the other
one."

Hearing Scully's voice, Skinner immediately relaxed. If she was
yelling at Mulder, then it couldn't be too serious. "How is he?"
Skinner knelt beside the--he could see now--thoroughly exasperated
female agent.

"Whiny," she said, more to her partner than to the AD. "He's got a
couple of pieces of glass in his side."

"It hurts," Mulder said so pitifully that Skinner threw an accusing
look Scully's way.

"Sir, would you, please?" She indicated the bloodstained cloth
Mulder was pressing to his hip. "I can't hold that and examine the
other wound, and *he's* not much help."

"Are these the only injuries?" Skinner asked cautiously, taking
over for the wounded agent.

Scully nodded. "And a concussion. Which would account for the
nausea."

Skinner darted a glance at the male agent, feeling a pang of
sympathy as he took in the tightly-closed lips and the pain-filled
eyes. "Then he's not..."

Scully looked up at him for a second, a question in her eyes, then
shook her head. "There are no signs to indicate internal bleeding,
no. Other than the nausea and dizziness, and those can be
attributed to the bump on the head and in some small part to the
wounds."

"Scully, I had no idea he was hurt."

"I know, sir. For someone to whom the truth is paramount, he covers
it up pretty well."

"Scully, I didn't--" Mulder broke off abruptly in a fit of
coughing; Skinner wrapped an arm around the agent to prevent him
from falling off the log. "I swear I didn't even feel these until
a few minutes ago." He turned to the AD. "Thanks, sir."

"You're welcome, Agent Mulder," Skinner said softly. "Don't talk
anymore, all right?"

Mulder swallowed and nodded; he let his eyes close and leaned into
Skinner. Almost in reflex, the AD tightened his hold on his agent.
"Why do you--" Skinner turned to Scully, but broke off when he
found her staring at him, her eyes alive with amusement. He cleared
his throat and fixed her with a stern look. "How could he have run
around with wounds like these? Shock?"

"Shock, adrenaline, fear..." She shrugged, examining the other
wound. He heard her suck in a breath. "This one's going to hurt,
Mulder."

The male agent said nothing, but Skinner winced in sympathy when he
felt Mulder stiffen. As Scully drew out the thin piece of glass,
Skinner held onto the agent trying so hard to keep himself in check
that he was shaking.

Finally, the piece was out. Mulder collapsed against Skinner,
panting heavily. Scully shook her head at the two-inch-long shard
of glass covered in Mulder's blood. She threw it on the ground in
disgust.

"Scully," Skinner said. "My coat pocket. There's a handkerchief in
there."

The agent reached in and pulled out the clean cloth. "Thanks." She
pressed it to the wound, which was now bleeding freely. "How are
you doing, Mulder?" she asked, gently brushing a sweat-soaked
strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Okay," he said in a voice so clearly out of it that Skinner
wondered how he even heard the question, let alone answered it. The
agent shuddered suddenly, and Skinner realized that while he and
Scully were buttoned up snug and warm inside their coats, not only
was Mulder's unbuttoned, but his pants and underwear were peeled
down enough to reveal his injuries. Skinner was about to suggest
they move somewhere warmer when Scully spoke up.

"Can you help me get him to the car, sir? This cold's not doing him
much good." Without waiting for his reply, she told the trembling
man, "Mulder, I need you to stand up. Can you do that?" Skinner
could only wonder at her about-face. A minute ago, she had likened
her partner to a whimpering child; now she treated him like he was
the most precious gem in the universe.

Beside him, he saw Mulder nod; the AD helped him to his feet while
Scully checked the two wounds on his left hip. "The bleeding's
slowed; I think he can withstand a short trip." One by one, she
held each handkerchief to a wound and carefully pulled the material
of his boxer shorts over it. She zipped her partner's fly, but left
the button and belt undone. When he looked at her in curiosity, she
explained. "If that wasn't necessary to keep your pants from
falling off, I'd  have left it down, too. You don't need anything
rubbing up against those injuries." 

"All set, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked. "He's not going to last too
long on his feet, and I don't think either of us are in condition
to carry him."

"Yeah. Sorry." She slid under Mulder's other arm. "Let's go."

It was only about twenty-five feet to the car, but before they
reached it, the soreness of Skinner's hands, which he hoped had
gone on permanent vacation, began to assert itself once more. The
rough material of Mulder's wool coat rubbed against the bare skin
where he'd torn the bandages, and he gritted his teeth against the
pain.

"You can let go, sir. I've got him."

"What?" he asked, not really hearing the question.

"Let go," she said, and her voice was so soft that he stared at
her, baffled.

"Your hands hurt."

He nodded.

"Let go, sir. We can make it the rest of the way on our own."

 "But--"

"It's okay, sir," he heard Mulder say. "I appreciate your help, but
I'm all right now." 

"Well, it's all moot now anyway," Scully said, stopping their
progress. "We're there."
Skinner quickly released his hold on Mulder; he let his hands drop
down to his sides but almost immediately raised them chest-high
when the blood rushing into them increased the pain level. 

"Do you have the keys?" he heard Scully ask.

"Yes. In my..." He stopped, and when his eyes met Scully's, they
shared a tiny smile. 

"In your pocket?" Her hand slipped into his coat pocket and came
away with the car key. She met his eyes again. "Are there any I
haven't tried yet?"

He nearly choked on his surprise.

"Sir!" He heard Mulder's voice and felt Scully's hands close around
his arms. 

When he could breathe again, Scully's apologetic face shimmered
into focus in front of him. Skinner found himself sitting on the
ground, Scully kneeling before him, Mulder off to the side leaning
against a tire, looking worried. 

"I'm sorry," Scully said softly, biting her lip to keep herself
from laughing. 

"It's all right," he sighed. "I was a little... unprepared."

He saw her bite harder on her lip before turning to her partner.
"Mulder? Are you okay?"

"Is Skinner all right?" he asked.

She nodded and glanced at the AD. "He's fine. Just swallowed
wrong."

A siren sounded suddenly, and they were invaded by FBI and medical
personnel. While Skinner informed the agents about the bodies in
the woods, Scully filled the EMT's in about his and Mulder's
injuries. Mulder was hurting again, but he had enough presence of
mind to send a message Skinner's way a second before an IV needle
was jabbed into the agent's arm.

"Just a minute, please," Skinner directed at the EMT's starting to
work on him. "Agent Scully was injured also."

She whirled around on him, a mixture of betrayal, confusion and
gratitude in her eyes. "I'm--"

"No, she's not," Skinner cut her off. "She was shot in the chest--"
As the EMT's stared at her in alarm, he continued quickly. "She was
wearing a vest. But I want her checked out. And she was unconscious
for about five minutes from the explosion of that car." He
indicated the smoldering heap that was his Bureau-issue car.
Mulder smiled. "I think you're outnumbered, Scully."

She sighed and plopped down onto the ground between Mulder and
Skinner. "Okay. I know when to give in."

"But never give up," came Mulder's drug-slurred voice. "Michalski
was wrong. We didn't give up." Hopeful eyes turned upon Skinner.

Skinner met Scully's eyes; the conviction he saw there was what
finally convinced him. He looked at the male agent and smiled when
he saw the hope change to belief. "No, Agent Mulder. We never gave
up."

*****
Epilogue

FBI Headquarters
Employees' Break Room
Friday, December 12, 1997
7:30 a.m.

"How are the hands, sir?"

Skinner's eyes alit briefly on the white gauze his hands were
encased in. "Pretty damned useless," he answered, fumbling with the
full coffee pot, raising it awkwardly to hover shakily over his
mug. The pot grew too heavy before he could make the attempt to
fill his cup, and he set it down none too gently.

Mulder silently picked up the glass container and filled the empty
cup with coffee. "Were you going to drink this in here?" 

Skinner got the feeling Mulder already expected the "no" but asked
anyway as a courtesy. "In my office," the AD answered, reaching for
the cup.

"I can get it." Mulder moved the mug out of Skinner's reach, picked
up his own full cup and started for the corridor. The agent paused
at the open door, and Skinner sighed as he preceded his agent out. 

Walking swiftly ahead of Mulder, Skinner reached his office and
opened the door, holding it ajar, waiting for the agent to catch
up.

"Give me those. Are you trying to reopen that wound?" 

He looked back in surprise as Scully's irritated voice reached his
ears. Hurrying to the agent caught halfway between the break room
and the AD's office, Skinner reached out to take his cup from the
female agent. "It's my fault, Agent Scully. I shouldn't have let
him carry it."

She moved the coffee away from him. "You shouldn't be carrying this
with those hands, either."
"I'm fine, Agent Scully. Give me my coffee."

She pulled it back. "Begging your pardon, but I don't think so,
sir." 

A wisp of the coffee wafted up to his nostrils; his mouth started
to water for the life-giving brew. "All right. Conceded. Could you
take it to my office, please?"

She nodded. "Be glad to, sir." A quick glance to her partner. "Come
on, Mulder, before you fall."

"I'm--"

"Don't even say it." And she turned, walked away, and disappeared
into Skinner's office.

About to apologize for his inadvertently causing a disagreement
between Mulder and his partner, Skinner was surprised to find the
agent gazing fondly at the door Scully had just vanished through.
"I'd say she could definitely use a cup, wouldn't you, sir?"

Skinner nodded. "Definitely." He looked at his hands, then at
Mulder holding up the wall. "But I'm not going to be the one to
bring it to her." 

Mulder glanced toward the break room, then to Skinner's office.
"Me, neither. She'd cut me up into little pieces and feed me to my
fish."

Skinner smiled at the idea of his six-foot agent fearing for his
life from his five-foot-three-inch partner. He almost laughed when
he realized that he'd just about admitted the same apprehension a
second ago.

His heart started beating rapidly as Scully exited his office and
headed for the two men. Very quickly he replayed the past minute in
an attempt to determine which of them was about to incur her wrath.
He darted a glance to Mulder and when their eyes met, he realized
that the agent was running a few calculations of his own. 

Agent Scully was certainly a force to be reckoned with, yet Skinner
knew that she'd managed to piece her partner together on more than
one occasion. And if he was honest with himself, Skinner would
admit that she'd done a little repair work to his psyche the past
week also.

So it was with a feeling akin to glee that he realized that he'd
managed to shock her by nullifying her steely glare with his gaze
of warmth and gratitude. He caught Mulder's understanding smile out
the corner of his eye as the AD bowed gallantly to his female
agent.

"Agent Scully, I'd like to buy you a cup of coffee."
The End


My God, this is a hell of a job. I have no trouble with my enemies.
I can take care of my enemies all right. But my damn friends, my
goddamn friends. They're the ones that keep me walking the floor
nights. --Warren G. Harding

Comments would be greatly appreciated! Jo-Ann at 70302.3654
@compuserve.com