"Walter! Come in!" Special Agent in Charge James Russett grabbed hold of Skinner's outstretched hand and pulled him into the office; Russett's slamming of the door effectively stranded Mulder and Scully in the corridor outside.

"Jim, I'm with--"

"You know, I'd heard a rumor that you had driven down with Spooky Mulder and his partner, but until now I just didn't believe it." Russett was grinning from ear to ear.

"Her name is Dana Scully."

"What?" Russett's mirth faded a smidgeon.

"Mulder's partner. Her name is Dana Scully."

"Oh." Russett shrugged. "Fine. Spooky has a partner named Scully."

"Fox."

"Is she now?" Russett tried to look out the slits in the blinds. "I'll have to take your word for it."

"His name is Fox."

"Whose?"

Skinner yanked the door open and motioned for Scully and Mulder to enter. "My agents. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, this is Jim Russett. He's the regional SAC."

Mulder extended his hand to a flustered Russett. "Sir," the agent said, nodding respectfully.

"I've... um... heard a lot about you, Mulder."

"Yes, sir," Mulder said, releasing his hand and stepping back to stand beside Skinner.

When Russett took Scully's hand, he looked like he was at a loss. "Scully's a pathologist," Skinner informed him. "She'd like to take a look at your victims later."

"Uh... sure. Dr. Ryelin can show her."

"Right now we'd like to see what your team has on this guy. Agent Mulder was a profiler, and he may have something to add."

Skinner was pleased to see Russett finally gazing at Mulder with respect, if not downright awe. "I heard you were pretty damned good, Mulder. One of the best--if not the best."

Mulder nodded, and Skinner noted that he accepted the compliment matter-of-factly, and a little warily. His agent was no fool. Mulder was well aware that behind the praise lurked envy and scorn; the not-quite-hidden smirk on Russett's face attested to that.

"Could you point us in the right direction, Jim?" Skinner asked. He made certain that the "us" was heard--and understood. Skinner wanted to keep the "kissing up to the AD" to a minimum. He wanted to establish right here and now that his time would be spent in the company of his agents, not with the SAC stuck up his ass.

At least he felt safe with Mulder and Scully, enough so that he could let his guard down and almost relax. They didn't jump at his every word, and they left him alone when they thought he wanted to be left alone.

It would be a perfect relationship if they didn't think he wanted to be alone so much.

"Come on, sir. Sit down." Scully tugged on his arm, trying to pull him further into the room.

He felt light-headed and disoriented; the door frame seemed like a very good place to lean against. "In a minute."

He was shocked when his grip was ripped loose and she began dragging him across the room. "Get your ass in this chair now."

Certain that he would be kissing the linoleum any moment, Skinner's panic eased when he felt Mulder's arm slip around his waist and the agent's shoulder slide under his arm. "Take it easy, Scully," Mulder said softly, slowing the pace she'd set. "He wasn't trying to be difficult; he was just trying to regain his equilibrium."

Mulder continually surprised him. Possessed of an over-abundance of obstinacy, his agent had an equal share of compassion. Skinner had experienced it firsthand before, and it caught him off-guard each and every time it was directed at him.

Scully let go, and Mulder deposited him very gently in the straight-backed chair. "Okay, Scully, he's all yours." Even through the din pulsing in his ears, Skinner detected the warning/affection/apology in Mulder's tone.

Bracing himself, preparing for the full force of Scully's wrath, Skinner almost passed out from relief when her eyes reflected nothing but concern. "You need to be in bed." She snapped it out like the medical order it was, and Skinner immediately dismissed it on that basis alone.

"I just need a couple of minutes, and I'll be fine," he insisted.

"You will not be fine," Scully said, just as insistently. "I know you don't want to accept it, but the fact is that you're ill, sir. You had a few good hours, and now your body needs to recoup."

"Sir," Mulder interjected. "We've got several hours while Scully does the autopsies. I'm going back to the motel; why don't you come with me? They don't need you right now, and I need someplace quiet to study this." He held up the thick file folder.

"Go with Mulder, sir.You may as well rest while you can. Once he starts coming up with his absurd theories, you're going to need all the energy you can muster." She smiled at her partner, and when his eyes crinkled with an understanding known only to them, Skinner felt like a voyeur. "All right," he said, "but I still need a few minutes." He didn't think he could walk across the room, much less all the way to the car.

"Here. This will get that fever down a little." Scully handed him a dose of the prescription Mulder had returned with... God... was it only eight hours ago? They'd managed about three hours' sleep before they had to show up bright and early in Roanoke.

Skinner took the capsule from her hand, popped it in his mouth, and accepted the paper cupful of water she gave him to wash it down. He covered his eyes with his hand, and when he felt well enough to face the world--such as it was--he found Mulder seated across from him, trying to look like he wasn't watching him. Scully was nowhere in sight. Skinner's eyes met Mulder's questioningly.

"She left."

"Oh."

"Are you ready for the show?"

The words held absolutely no meaning for Skinner. "Show?"

Mulder indicated the door with his head. "Out there. Are you ready to face your audience?"

Skinner winced. "Being the AD really sucks sometimes, Mulder."

He expected the agent to laugh, but Mulder merely nodded in sympathy. "You usually pull it off," he said quietly.

Skinner eyed his agent; he'd always known Mulder was an astute man, but he was surprised that that insight extended to him. "Let's get out of here, Mulder."

Mulder was suddenly standing in front of him, a hand on his shoulder preventing him from rising. "Scully said to be careful when you get up. Your balance may be off." The agent reached into his jacket pocket and displayed Skinner's prescription. "The pills."

Skinner remembered. The night before, Scully had made a point of telling him not to take the pill until just before he went to bed. Of course, he didn't listen, and wound up on the floor, dizzy and frightened. When he finally lay in bed, trembling, he vowed that that would be the last piece of her advice that he'd disregard.

God, he was a stubborn man! Here it was only a few hours later, and he'd already argued with her about lying down. He looked up at Mulder, and suddenly another memory sprang to light: a soft knock on his door, and then Mulder by his bed, drying his face and talking softly to him until he fell asleep. He felt his face flaming, and had to look away.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

Unable to ignore the anxiety in his agent's voice, he looked up once again. "I'm fine, Agent Mulder." His eyes darted to the pills in Mulder's pocket, then back up to meet his agent's. Skinner nodded his thanks, and when Mulder nodded in response, Skinner was certain that he understood.

"Ready?" Mulder asked.

Skinner looked around, taking in the room's "decor."

"There are no windows," Mulder informed him. Skinner nodded and checked behind him. "And no 'mirrors'."

Satisfied, Skinner braced himself. "All right, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Mulder stood before him uncertainly, arms dangling at his sides. "Do you want a hand up?"

The AD sighed. "I think that would probably be a good idea."

Mulder placed his hands under Skinner's elbows. "Just hold on to me if you feel dizzy, okay?"

Skinner nodded and rose to his feet, then found himself clutching at air.

"I'm right here, sir." Something solid met his flailing hands, and he grabbed hold.

When the dizziness passed, he was almost afraid to open his eyes; he half-expected to find himself in Mulder's arms.

"Okay, sir?" Mulder asked, his voice muffled and directly behind Skinner's head. Oh, God, he was in Mulder's arms.

"I think so." Skinner wavered as Mulder let go.

"Do you need a few more minutes?"

He felt truly awful, but shook his head. "I think it'll have to be now or never, Agent Mulder."

"Okay," Mulder said. "I'll get us out of here as quickly as possible, but you do realize that you'll never be able to escape without Russett noticing."

"Doesn't this place have a back door?"

Mulder chuckled. "They do, but to get to it we'd have to go through the bullpen."

Skinner blanched at the thought of wading through a sea of eager-beaver agents. "The front door will be fine."

Mulder nodded. He took hold of the doorknob and hesitated. "Ready?"

Skinner took a breath. "As I'll ever be."

They weren't three steps outside the door when Skinner was assaulted by the SAC. "Hey, Walter," Russett began, and Skinner bristled at how he cut in front of Mulder to get to him. "Where'd you disappear to? I'm heading off to lunch. You can join me, and we can catch up on old times." The invitation clearly did not extend to the agent standing behind him.

Skinner was peeved at Russett's callous disregard of another person's feelings. "Sorry," he said, trying to reign in his temper, "but Agent Mulder and I already have plans." The invitation clearly did not extend to the man standing before him.

At the man's, "Oh," Skinner decided that Russett wasn't as dense as he'd been when they were agents together. "I'll see you later, then," Russett said.

"Right. Later." Standing was beginning to take its toll on the AD. He felt sweat breaking out on his brow. "Let's go, Mulder," he said, making a beeline for the door.

Mulder made no attempt to provide assistance until they were out of view of the office. Even then, he offered only the barest support, a hand gripping Skinner's upper arm, gently but firmly. "Almost there," he said softly.

Skinner knew Mulder was close; he could feel the agent's warm breath on his ear, but why was his voice so faint?

"Red alert." A whisper this time, as Mulder released his hold.

Skinner could make out Mulder's voice and... Jesus, the man was still fucking clueless. "Sorry, what did you say, Jim?"

"I said the team's going to be working tonight--casual dress, and we're having a few pizzas delivered--and we'd like you to join us." The SAC turned to Mulder. "Of course, that includes you and Agent Scully, too."

"What time?" Skinner heard himself croak.

"About five-thirty... Are you all right?" Russett looked curious, yet not overly concerned.

Skinner cleared his throat. "I'm a little tired. We got in pretty late last night."

Russett nodded. "That was some storm we had, wasn't it? Didn't clear out this heat or humidity, though."

Skinner couldn't agree more; he was just about to melt from standing in the sun in a long-sleeve shirt and jacket.

"We'll see you at five-thirty then, sir," Mulder said. "I don't know about you, but I'm not used to this heat." He made a move toward the car.

Russett nodded but stood his ground. "It can be oppressive at times."

"Are you ready, sir?" Mulder asked Skinner.

Skinner wiped a hand across his forehead. "Let's get out of this heat, shall we, Mulder?" He started for the car. "See you tonight, Jim," he called to the SAC.

They reached the car, and Mulder unlocked Skinner's door and opened it. "He's still hovering. You're on your own, I'm afraid."

Skinner sighed. "Just get me the hell out of here, Mulder."

Mulder waited until Skinner was all the way inside, then shut the door. The agent settled into the driver's seat, started the engine and cranked the air conditioning up to "maximum." He blew out a breath.

"Be glad to, sir."

The knock on his door woke him. He stumbled over to the peephole but couldn't focus enough for it to be of any use. "Who is it?" he asked hoarsely.

"Mulder."

He opened the door to his bluejeans-clad agent. "What time is it?"

Mulder didn't consult his watch. "Four-thirty. We're leaving in half an hour, okay?"

"Is Scully back?"

Mulder nodded. "About twenty minutes ago. Um..." He looked a little uneasy. "Scully's kind of exhausted. We're going to show up for dinner and then call it a night. I know Russett's a friend of yours, so--"

"We worked together, Mulder. We were never friends."

Mulder didn't look surprised. "Oh. Well--"

"He's a real ass-kisser, Mulder." Skinner looked into his agent's eyes. "In case you hadn't noticed."

Mulder smiled. "If you want to use us as your excuse to leave, we're at your disposal."

Skinner was starting to feel a little shaky, so he motioned Mulder inside, then sank into a chair. "Thanks, but he'll never buy it," the AD said, trying to catch his breath. "I'll have to come up with something better."

"How about, 'I don't feel well?'" Mulder suggested drily.

Skinner stared at Mulder a moment, then snorted. "If all else fails." He sighed. "Which it probably will."

"I heard Russett's actually a pretty good SAC most of the time." Mulder brushed at a patch of dust on his jeans' knee. "Maybe you just need to give him a chance."

He gaped at his agent. "Mulder, he's treated you like something he scraped off the bottom of his shoe."

Mulder shrugged.

Skinner studied his agent. Here was Mulder, who had been, in essence, snubbed by the entire Roanoke office, advising Skinner, who had been treated like visiting royalty, to be more open-minded.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Skinner wondered.

The agent looked up in surprise and Skinner thought that maybe this was the first time anyone--except perhaps for Scully--had ever asked him. "No," he said quickly. "Well, um... maybe... sometimes." His eyes returned to the scrutiny of his clothing.

Skinner sighed. "Okay, Mulder. I'll try."

Mulder met his eyes; the agent nodded slightly and gave a small, tight smile, then stood. "Okay. Well. We'll meet you at the car at five."

Skinner's eyes remained on the door after Mulder went through it. The man was so hard to fathom sometimes. Not once did Mulder ask after his health, yet he had a funny feeling that when Scully grilled her partner on the subject, Mulder would give her an unerringly accurate description.

Wiping the sleep out of his eyes, Skinner headed for the shower. Maybe tonight would be a little more comfortable than the morning session where he had been shamelessly fawned over by Russett and his agents, while Mulder and Scully had been relegated to a rickety table in the back of the room.

Skinner stripped as he walked, peeling off the white shirt that was starting to feel like a second skin, and then shedding the suit pants. Christ. He'd fallen asleep in his suit again. At this rate he wouldn't have anything left to wear to work soon. Mulder had been dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt; could Skinner get away with similar attire? Russett had said casual dress, hadn't he?

He wondered just how many of Russett's agents would actually "dress down" while the AD was expected to be in their midst. Shouldn't he wear a suit, too?

Oh, to hell with it, he thought. He didn't feel well, it was hot out, and he couldn't handle anything tight around his neck anymore. He grabbed his Levi's, a knit cotton shirt, and his sneakers, and laid them on the bed.

If he didn't look like an assistant director maybe they'd forget who he was and leave him alone.

End Part 2/4