"Right now, sir?"

Skinner nodded a "yes" to Mulder's question. His eyes darted to Scully, then returned to rest on Mulder. "They want us there for the 7 a.m. briefing."

Mulder stopped in mid-rise; his head snapped up to stare at his superior. "Us?"

Scully rose, and Skinner watched her lay a hand lightly on her partner's still-bent back; Mulder straightened at her touch, neither of them even aware of the action. God, to be that attuned to another person...

"You're going with us, sir?" Scully's request was polite, yet Skinner detected just the slightest hint of discomfort in her voice.

Skinner resisted pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that was building. "If you wouldn't mind, yes."

"Um... no. Of course not, sir." Skinner sighed at Mulder's polite, yet uncomfortable tone.

"Fine. Shall we meet at the garage in..." He consulted his watch. "...an hour and a half?" He looked from one face to the other; the agents both looked as though they'd been condemned to life at hard labor.

After they left, Skinner slumped into his chair; he dropped his head into his hands. Perhaps taking a four-hour drive with two of his agents wasn't such a good idea after all.

A glance at his watch brought him bolt upright. 6:30? Half an hour since he'd sent Mulder and Scully literally packing? He couldn't recall the last time he'd fallen asleep at his desk. He grabbed his briefcase, left the office and was halfway home before he was hit with the realization that he felt like shit. The fact that he was going on a field trip with the X Files agents couldn't solely account for his rapidly beating heart, his shaking hands, and his chilled body. His face didn't feel like the inside of a furnace just because Mulder--and sometimes Scully--made him hot under the collar.

God damn it all to hell. He swiped at the sweat on his forehead, turned the AC on full throttle, and opened his window to the July heat. When he stopped at a red light, he popped three Tylenol Extra-Strength from the bottle in his briefcase and prayed that they'd work. He didn't want to be the object of pity, even a one as sincere as his two wayward agents'.

Arriving home, he threw his things into a suitcase and by the time he was racing back to the garage, he had forgotten to even acknowledge that his prayer had been answered.

"So, sir, are you heading up the investigation?" Mulder asked.

Skinner shook his head. "No. I'm part of the team just like you."

The AD watched Mulder's mouth form an "O" in the rear view mirror.

Skinner's eyes met Mulder's. "This killer's modus operandi has a certain... familiarity to it. Sounds like a guy we put away fifteen years ago."

"He escaped?"

"He died."

Mulder's mouth opened slightly, but it was Scully who spoke. "He died right around the time of the first killing, right?" She turned around to face him. "You were there," she stated as surely as she knew her own name. "The first time."

"I was on the team that captured him, yes," Skinner acknowledged.

"It was more than that, though." Mulder again. "You were somehow..." Skinner read the amazement in his agent's eyes. "You were attuned to him." Although Mulder's gaze returned to the road, Skinner could almost see the gears shifting as the agent delved into that storehouse he called a memory. "He was a Vietnam vet, too, and--" Mulder glanced at Scully, then said softly to Skinner, "He didn't come out of it well at all, did he, sir?"

"You mean like I did?" Skinner said this a little more bitingly than he'd meant to, and Mulder's shoulders tensed. The AD purposefully softened his voice. "No. He didn't have the level of support that I--" He broke off at the quizzical look on Scully's face. "Something wrong, Agent Scully?"

The female agent shook her head. "Just trying to put the pieces together, sir."

Skinner glanced at Mulder; the agent shrugged. "It never came up in conversation." Mulder's tone was offhand, but Skinner picked up on the affront Mulder had taken at Skinner's cavalier assumption that Mulder would betray a confidence, even to Scully.

The AD leaned back in his seat, suddenly bone-tired. "No, of course it wouldn't."

Mulder seemed to accept this unspoken apology as he looked into Skinner's eyes. "Shall I tell her or would you like to?"

Skinner's eyes closed. "You."

As he drifted in and out of sleep, Skinner heard the story of his being the only survivor of an ambush being related to Scully in Mulder's soft voice.

Suddenly a bright light stung through his eyelids, a loud "crack!" startled him awake, and a low rumbling shook the car. Skinner leaned forward to talk to Scully, but found her seated next to him in the back, her hand pressing on his chest.

"Scully, what--"

"It's only thunder, sir. Lie back. Please." Scully's voice was strained, and Skinner wondered what was going on.

"Agent Scully?"

"We pulled off the road about ten minutes ago. We hit a little... uh... wild weather."

The AD's eyes narrowed. "What kind of 'wild weather?'"

"Thunderstorm at first," Mulder replied to Skinner's reflection in the mirror. "Then hail. When I saw a tornado touch down, I put us through some creative driving before I found an overpass to park under." The agent turned around in his seat, grinning worriedly. "You didn't say peep one, sir. Scully was just making sure you were all right."

"And...?" He directed this at Mulder, then glared at Scully, daring her to tell him anything but that he was. "Am I?"

"Just how many aspirin did you down before meeting us, sir?"

His eyes widened as the woman caught him totally off-guard. Damn, she was good. "Tylenol. Three." A barely noticeable raise of her eyebrow prompted him to admit, "Extra-Strength."

"How long ago?" Her voice had softened, and he felt inordinately relieved, like he'd avoided a trip to the woodshed.

"About two hours."

She nodded. "Well, they appear to still be effective. You don't have a fever." She eyed him accusingly. "Did you?"

He was tired, and he was growing irritated by her superior attitude. "I'm not sure; I might have. My head hurt. I took aspirin," he said curtly. He closed his eyes and turned his head away.

"What about now?"

All he wanted to do was sleep, and she wouldn't let him. His eyes snapped open, and he leaned forward, hating her at that moment. "It hurts. Okay?"

Scully flinched as though hit. "Sir, I'm only trying to help you."

He turned his back on her. "Then leave me alone and let me sleep."

"Okay," she whispered. He heard the door open, and the seat beside him shifted slightly. She stepped out of the car and settled into the front seat beside Mulder.

Despite the storm raging around them, an uncomfortable silence settled over the car; it suited Skinner just fine. He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

A gentle hand was shaking him awake, and when he opened his eyes he was surprised to find that it belonged to Mulder. "Sir? We're at the motel now." The agent spoke softly, as if somehow aware of the pounding in Skinner's head.

The AD started to nod his head, then thought better of it and accepted Mulder's offered hand. He looked into his agent's eyes and found in them the expected concern--and a tinge of anger. Confused, he sought out the more level-headed half of the duo; she was hauling suitcases out of the trunk, studiously avoiding eye contact with him.

A fuzzy memory of Scully leaning over him, asking him questions, and... Oh, lord. He had practically bitten her head off.

As he let go of Mulder's hand and straightened, he fell back against the open car door, dizzy and out of breath. Strong arms kept him from sliding to the ground on suddenly-useless legs.

"Let me see him, Mulder," he heard through a haze.

"Can it wait till we get inside? This heat isn't helping him any. Or me." For the first time Skinner noticed that his agent was panting. Scully beside him was doing the same.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Mulder shook his head. "Nothing a little air-conditioning won't fix." He wiped a hand across his forehead. "Can you walk?"

Blinking rapidly a few times, Skinner was able to shake off the dizziness. "I'm fine," he said, and Mulder appraised him a few seconds before he released him fully.

Walking to the back of the car where Scully had deposited their bags, Skinner and Mulder reached for his suitcase at the same time. Skinner's hand grabbed the handle first, Mulder's hand hovering above it uncertainly. "I can get it, Mulder." He looked into his agent's eyes and nodded. "Thanks."

Mulder returned the nod, and picked up his own bag. "Your room's right over here." The agent crossed the tarmac and slid a key into the lock. "Uh, sir..." He stopped and looked at the ground.

Skinner turned the key and pushed the door open, sighing as the cool air inside reached out for him. "What is it, Agent Mulder?" he asked when nothing more was forthcoming from the man.

"I think Agent Scully would like to check you out before you go to bed."

About to protest, Skinner decided to succumb to reason. "All right," he said. "But let's all change into something more comfortable than these

"Okay," Mulder agreed.

The AD waited until they headed toward their rooms, then let the coolness engulf him.

Tanglewood Motel
12:40 a.m.

It was a much-refreshed Walter Skinner who opened his door to admit his two agents. Although a little dismayed that Mulder would be audience to his 'examination,' he nonetheless motioned them to the room's only two chairs. Mulder remained standing by the door, however, and Skinner eyed him inquiringly.

"I'm going for food," he said. "Scully and I didn't have supper. Did you?"

Skinner thought a second, then shook his head.

"Is there anything you really hate?" Mulder asked. "Because I'm stopping at the first open place I find."

The AD took in the weary form before him. "Anything will be fine, Agent Mulder."

"Okay," Mulder said, nodding. The door closed behind him with a soft "click."

Alone now with Scully, Skinner felt acutely uncomfortable--and thoroughly ashamed. He walked over and sat on the bed, across from her. "Agent Scully, I'd like to apologize. My behavior in the car was rude and uncalled for."

Slowly, Scully raised her head and looked into his eyes. She stared a moment, and then nodded. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. I think maybe the heat got to me a little."

She shook her head in that way doctors do, and said, "I don't think that's all it was."

An hour ago he would have been peeved by her holier-than-thou attitude; now he found it charming. He smiled in defeat. "Does anything ever get by you?"

He was pleased to see her return the smile. "Not much," she said, touching a hand to his forehead.

"You let Mulder think he does, though, don't you?"

She shrugged, removing her hand and reaching into her medical bag. "Sometimes."

"Why?"

She stopped her rummaging and regarded him with curiosity. "Why sometimes, or why at all?"

"Why at all."

She considered for a moment. "Every once in a while he just needs to win."

"Even at your expense?"

She resumed her search, then pulled out a thermometer. "It's a small price, and besides... he knows."

"Then why bother?" he asked, puzzled.

Scully sighed; she shook the thermometer, then gave it to him to place under his tongue. "When you were a kid, did your school have any sort of field day activities? Competitions, really."

He nodded. "You mean baseball tosses, foot races... that type of thing?" he asked around the thermometer.

"Right. Don't talk." She hesitated for a second, as if trying to decide whether or not she wanted to tell him. "Did you ever notice the kids who didn't win at anything? They'd try their best, but it was never good enough."

He raised an inquiring eyebrow at her.

"No, not me," she said. "I was a tomboy. I won--a lot." She smiled, remembering. Then her face clouded. "I noticed the others, the ones who never won, though. At the start of the day's events, they were so excited, so hopeful--we all were. But as the day wore on, and they lost and lost and lost..." She stopped, sighing. "There were some 'mercy' events--games and contests where they couldn't help but win. And even though they knew they were being allowed to win, they didn't care. At that point, they needed it, and needed it badly. It didn't matter how it came to be, so long as it was." Her eyes searched his for understanding. "Sometimes Mulder just needs it to be."

On more than one occasion he'd wondered how Mulder coped. How he picked himself up, defeat after defeat, and carried on against overwhelming odds. Scully played a big part in that, Skinner knew, and although she was defeated right along with Mulder, the male agent took it to heart much more than his rational partner.

"I suppose he does," Skinner said softly.

They finished the rest of the check-up in silence, and when Scully sat back and frowned, Skinner knew that although the news wasn't dire, neither was it rosy.

"You have the flu," she announced.

He wasn't surprised; he still felt like the underside of a shoe after it had tromped around in a cow field. "I need to be there tomorrow," he said.

She nodded. "I know." She looked up from putting her medical bag back in order. "Did you take any more Tylenol?"

He shook his head.

"Good," she nodded approvingly. "Mulder's bringing you back something a little stronger."

Mortified that she had sent one of his agents on a personal errand for him, Skinner felt his face redden.

She touched his arm lightly. "He doesn't mind, sir."

Finding nothing but sincerity in her eyes, Skinner relaxed somewhat. Of all the agents under his command, only Scully and Mulder, upon gaining a glimpse of Walter Skinner, Human Being, had cared enough to look beyond that one brief peek. He supposed that was why he was here, now, with them, instead of hobnobbing with the Roanoke agents.

"Why don't you lie down?" Scully suggested. "If you turn out the lights and close your eyes, that headache will ease."

He didn't even bother to question how she knew about the headache. She was Scully: she just knew. "If it's all the same to you, Agent Scully, I'd rather wait for Mulder." He offered her an apologetic smile. "I'm starving."

"Okay," she said, snapping her bag shut. "I'm going to bring this back to my room. I'll be back when Mulder returns with the prescription."

He felt his mouth go dry. She had sent an exhausted, hungry agent in search of a pharmacy this late in that heat? "Scully..."

"It was his idea. Mulder never does anything he doesn't want to do." She gave him a grin. "You ought to know that by now."

He did. Still, the idea of Mulder searching for an all-night pharmacy for his boss didn't rub Skinner the right way. It made him feel awkward and beholden to one of his subordinates, and this was not a situation of which he was fond.

Nevertheless, it was the one in which he found himself. "All right. Give a knock when he's back, and we can all have a bite in here."

She seemed a little surprised by that, but recovered quickly. "Okay," she said, nodding. "We'll be over in a bit." She opened the door. "Lights," she reminded him, then she left.

Skinner frowned at the closed door; he got up and slapped the light switch to "off." He sat in the dark, and he sighed.

End Part 1/4