The pizza had tasted delicious--at first. Now the smell of it was turning his stomach. He went to the back of the room and sat at the rickety table.

"A little too much?"

He took another breath of the non-aromatic air before he faced Scully. "What?"

"The smell. It's getting to you, isn't it?"

"Oh. Uh...." He glanced at the table laden with boxes, sodas and salads. "A little," he admitted.

"Mulder told Russett that he's not ready to offer any theories yet, and I still need time to put together the notes on my autopsy results, so as soon as Mulder's done, we're leaving." They looked over to where Mulder was sitting by himself, happily munching on a slice of pepperoni pizza. "He came for the food," she said.

"So I see," Skinner laughed. "But where does he put it?"

Scully shook her head. "He's got one of 'those' metabolisms. He knows that I hate him for it." She smiled at her oblivious partner. "Anyway..." She turned her attention back to Skinner. "He told Russett that we were all pretty done in... what with the heat and hardly any sleep..."

"And?" Skinner prompted her.

"And I don't think he heard a word Mulder said." She shrugged. "Well, that's his problem. When he looks around and finds you gone, maybe he'll recall a conversation he didn't have with someone who doesn't exist."

"Mulder said I should give him a chance."

"Mulder's a jerk."

"I've often thought that myself," he said, smiling. Then both their gazes drifted over to the agent, who looked up at the same time and caught their eyes.

What? he mouthed, checking his shirt front before looking up questioningly. Am I wearing pizza? Picking up his plate, he started toward them, then hesitated and left it on the table.

"Have we all been banished to the back now?" he quipped, pulling a chair over and sitting. Then his demeanor underwent a one-eighty. "Do you want to leave?" he asked, seriously, looking from Skinner to Scully.

"You can finish eating, Agent Mulder." Skinner felt a little foolish, like he was a sick child whose parents had to cut short their visit to take him home.

Mulder laid a hand across his stomach. "If I eat any more, I'll explode."

Skinner directed his eyes to Mulder's unfinished pizza on the table where he'd left it. "You were doing pretty good a minute ago."

The agent sighed. "I think that was one piece too many. I'll probably be up all night."

Scully snorted. "You'll be up all night anyway."

Mulder looked like she slapped him. "I sleep a few hours," he said defensively.

Scully stared at him a moment, and then Skinner saw understanding dawn in her eyes. "I know, Mulder. I was just teasing."

Their eyes held another few seconds, and when Mulder's gaze left Scully and focused on him, Skinner caught a few lingering vestiges of sorrow before the agent slipped into happy-face mode. "Well, shall we make our good-byes, or just slip out unnoticed?"

Skinner shook his head. "We'd never pull it off." He let his gaze roam over his agents. "Watch." And he stood up.

The Roanoke agents snapped to, and Mulder's and Scully's eyes widened. "Wow. Your very own trained seals," Mulder observed. "Shall I throw them an anchovy?"

Skinner blew out a breath and sat back down; his audience's attention relaxed but didn't flag. "See what I have to put up with?"

"We know, sir," Scully said quietly. "Do you want Mulder to distract them while we make a break for it?"

Skinner stared at her, unsure whether or not she was serious. "How?" he asked.

She glaawed at her partner, then returned her gaze to Skinner and smiled. "Believe me, you'll be better off not knowing."

Skinner was very tempted, but his sense of duty--as always--overrode his feelings. "I appreciate the thought, Agents, but..." He sighed. He really wasn't up to playing nice with the other kiddies. "Let's do it."

They rose, and Skinner noted the glee on Mulder's face at the jack-rabbit response of the Roanoke agents; Scully merely looked disgusted. The AD stopped in the midst of the pack of agents. "Well, good night, ladies and gentlemen. Thanks for supper. We'll see you in the morning."

"Where are you going?" Russett asked.

Skinner turned to the man beside him. "Mulder, I thought you were going to explain to SAC Russett why we would be leaving right after we ate."

Skinner could tell that Mulder lived for moments like these. "I thought I did, sir."

The AD returned his confused gaze to Russett. "Jim?"

The SAC's skin tone underwent a rainbow of colors: red to white to green and back to red. "I don't recall having a conversation with Agent Mulder. And I assure you, Walter--I would." The other agents chuckled and sniggered in the background.

Skinner glanced at his agent. Not only had Russett called Mulder a liar, he had ridiculed him in front of his colleagues. Yet Mulder looked more shocked by the outright lie than by the SAC's disparaging remarks.

The AD turned back to Russett and spoke very quietly. "If Agent Mulder said he spoke to you, then he did. That you chose not to hear him is a shortcoming on your part, not his. We're leaving. Now. Good night."

A subdued chorus of "good night's" followed them out the door.

"Asshole," Skinner muttered once Mulder pushed the door closed. He turned to his male agent as they walked. "What's that you were saying about giving him a chance, Mulder?"

Mulder looked a little contrite. "Maybe he didn't hear me," he mumbled.

"Didn't hear because it was you, you mean," Scully argued.

"Maybe," he said in a small voice. "What does it matter anyway? Sir, I don't think their killer is your dead perp." Mulder pulled the outer door open and held it for Scully and Skinner. "The M.O.'s certainly similar, but there are vast differences. When you feel up to it, I'd like you to take a look at what I've got so far."

"Not tonight, Mulder," Scully said.

"I didn't say tonight." Mulder's voice was sharp.

"Don't let him get to you, Mulder," Skinner said softly.

The agent opened his mouth to protest, then closed it and nodded; he looked down at the ground. "Sorry, Scully."

"It's okay, Mulder," she said, and Mulder looked up and gave her a smile.

The AD was surprised when Mulder turned the smile on him. "Thanks, sir."

Skinner was taken aback. "For what?"

"Russett. For sticking by me. I know you didn't have to."

"Of course, I did, Mulder. For Christ's sakes, did you honestly think I could stand by and let him treat you like that?"

Mulder shrugged. "It's happened before."

"By me?"

He was pleased to see that Mulder required no thought whatsoever on the subject. "No. Not by you."

"Then why--"

"Because that's the exception rather than the rule."

Skinner sighed. He'd seen it, on more than one occasion. "All right, Mulder. Point conceded." They finally reached the car, and Skinner motioned Scully to the front seat. "I feel like something the cat dragged in. I'm just going to curl up in the back, if you don't mind."

"I'll want to take a look at you when we get to the motel," Scully warned.

"Yes, Agent Scully," Skinner sighed.

The only thing he could think of as he drifted off was that he had never heard Mulder laugh before.

"I think you should stay here today," Scully said, reading the thermometer and then shaking it.

Although Skinner wanted nothing more than to comply, he shook his head. "We're visiting the crime scenes today, and if what Mulder believes is true, then I have to see them for myself." He shifted uncomfortably on the bed; God, everything hurt today.

"You have a fever, and the pills aren't helping it."

He sighed. "Believe me, Agent Scully, I know."

A knock sounded on the door, then it opened and Mulder's head peered in. "Everyone decent in here?" he asked cheerily.

"No!" Scully yelled, shocking the hell out of Skinner and causing Mulder to pull back quickly and whack his head against the door frame. Skinner admired her mean streak as she smiled and said sweetly. "Oh, my mistake... yes, we are."

Mulder pushed the door open and came in rubbing the side of his head. "Very funny."

"Let me see, Mulder," Scully said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle her laughter.

The male agent pulled back out her reach. "It's fine."

"Let me see," she said, reaching for him, serious now.

"I said it's fine." He jerked away.

"Fine," she said, grabbing up her medical bag and heading for the door. "The two of you can just take care of each other since you obviously have no need of my services." She slammed the door on her way out.

Mulder was the first to recover. "So what did you do to piss her off?"

"I have a fever."

Mulder nodded. "Scully doesn't approve of fevers. She especially doesn't approve of walking around with fevers."

Skinner sighed. "Tell me something I don't know."

Mulder chuckled, then winced and touched his head.

"Got an egg?"

"A beaut." The agent turned his head. "Can you see it?"

Skinner whistled at the impressive-looking lump. "Maybe we should both stay here and let Scully go to the crime scenes without us."

Mulder stared at him. "You think she wouldn't?"

The AD shook his head slowly. "I never discount anything where Agent Scully is concerned. Or you," he added.

Mulder's eyes narrowed. "Were we just insulted? I hate it when I can't tell."

Skinner's eyes closed tiredly. "No insult, Mulder," he drawled.

"You're falling asleep, sir," he heard Mulder saying. "Do you want to skip the crime scenes today? I could take a look and then work what I can into the profile."

Skinner forced his eyes open. "No, I want to get this over with today. Give me a hand up, will you?"

Mulder took hold of Skinner's outstretched hand and eased him onto his feet very slowly. It made no difference. The room swayed and blurred, and when it steadied long enough for him to open his eyes, he found his head resting on Mulder's shoulder, his lips pressed into the man's neck. "Oh, shit," he muttered, lifting his head and stumbling backwards.

Mulder quickly reached out and steadied him. "That's not the reaction I usually get, but then again it's not usually a man's head I have on my shoulder." The agent smiled at him, shaking his head. "We've got to stop meeting like this, sir."

As foolish as he felt, Skinner couldn't help but smile back. "Sorry," he said. "I think Scully does it on purpose. Gives me one of those damned pills, then leaves me to my own devices--or you."

Mulder's smile evaporated; he released his hold on the AD. "Come on, let's go before Scully decides to leave without us." The agent walked swiftly to the door and held it open, waiting for a Skinner who felt ninety years old.

"Mulder, I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he said, pausing in the open doorway to catch his breath.

Mulder met his eyes and took a deep breath. "I know. It's me, not you. Scully was right: I didn't get much sleep last night."

Uncertain as to whether or not Mulder wanted to continue this line of dialogue, Skinner nodded and shuffled out the door.

"Are you going to be able to make it to the car?" Mulder asked, and Skinner worried about the worry in his agent's voice.

Skinner took a deep breath, pleased and surprised when he didn't fall over. "Damned if I know, Mulder."

A slow smile spread over his agent's face; then Mulder's expression softened. "Come on. I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks."

"It's no trouble, sir." The agent pulled Skinner's door shut and aimed them toward the car. Almost immediately, sweat broke out over both their foreheads. "I have a feeling, though, that you're going to wish you had taken Scully's advice and stayed in bed." Mulder paused to catch his breath. "We'll be out in this a lot today. All the crime scenes are outdoors."

Skinner stopped walking. "You're kidding."

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not."

"Shit."

"Do you want to go back to the room?"

Skinner finally realized that they were standing in the same spot, and he made his legs move forward. "I just want it to be over, Agent Mulder. I want to be home, in my own bed, where I can sleep in my underwear and leave the TV on all night."

"Jesus, sir, I hate to tell you this, but you sound like me."

Skinner stopped walking. "You're kidding."

Mulder shook his head. "I'm not."

"Shit."

"Do you see it, sir?"

Skinner shook his head. "Is this what you meant? There's nothing here?"

Mulder nodded. "They're conspicuous by their absence, aren't they?"

"No trace of them anywhere?" the AD asked, taking one last glance around the interior of the house. They stepped out onto the porch, the sun almost directly above them, and Skinner swabbed the thin film of sweat that sprung out on his forehead. "They weren't the easiest things to find, you know."

"I know," Mulder answered. "Don't you think we would have found at least one if they were here?"

Skinner sighed. He was hot, and he was tired. "You know where to look?"

"Yes, sir." When Mulder did not elaborate, Skinner looked over at him. The agent looked as exhausted as Skinner felt.

"Mulder." Skinner motioned him to the shady side of the house, leaning back against it, letting it support him; he wiped his face with his sleeve. "I think I've seen enough to know it's not Lemmen. Except for the missing hash marks, though, it's him to a T."

Mulder got that gleam in his eye that Skinner had come to know as the spark of an idea forming. "Did Lemmen have a brother? A twin, perhaps?"

The AD stared at his agent in awe, his discomfort momentarily forgotten. "Yes and yes."

Mulder nodded absently, lost in thought. Skinner jumped when the agent's eyes suddenly focused on him. "I need to do a background check on the brother. Did his brother visit him in prison?"

"Yes, but they weren't allowed contact. They met with a wall between them, and they were monitored the entire time."

"But they spoke? They could see each other?" Mulder was shifting into high gear, and Skinner was fascinated.

"Yes."

"I need to do a background check on the brother," Mulder repeated. "Do you know where he lives?"

Skinner shook his head. "I don't, but I'm sure Roanoke must have kept tabs on him--especially now."

Mulder's head was bobbing with barely-restrained energy; that spent agent of a minute ago was merely a memory. "Come on, sir. Let's get down to the field office." And he strode away, leaving Skinner feeling like he'd just survived a close encounter with a cyclone.

"You're lucky he even remembered you were here."

He started, and nearly fell over trying to twist around to face his other agent.

"Easy, sir," she said, steadying him, the outside wall of the house supporting his back while she kept a firm grip on his arm. He let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed, while he waited for his heart to slow back to normal and his breathing to calm. The Roanoke agents were all around them, and he was certain that they were witnessing this little scene, but he didn't care anymore. His connection to the case was finished. He could retire to the motel, crawl into bed and stay there until Mulder solved the case.

"Scully..." He opened his eyes and looked at her. She was analyzing his condition, he could see, noting every unsteady breath and every muscle twitch. She didn't mention any of it. She had given her professional opinion to him, and he had chosen to disregard it.

"Yes, sir," she asked, as calmly as if he were behind his desk at headquarters instead of sweating, shaking and holding onto her for dear life.

"I think I'd like to go back to the motel, please." His voice was unsteady now, too, and he was afraid that if she said no, he might start sobbing like a baby.

"Good idea, sir." She shifted him until she was in a position to support him. "I don't suppose you're too concerned with 'image' at the moment?"

If he could, he would have smiled. "Not a damned bit. Just get me somewhere I can lie down, Scully."

Their car was at the far end of the drive, not too far by normal standards, but miles away according to Skinner's. They limped past Russett's car and Jacobs' car and Donnelly's car and... God, how many of them were there? These people had all been to the scene before; Skinner wondered why they felt it necessary to return. He glanced up and saw every eye upon him. Jesus, he'd become such a part of the woodwork in DC, he'd forgotten that not everyone saw him as such.

They were about ten feet from the car when Russett stepped in Scully's path, breaking their momentum and causing Skinner to pitch forward. He was watching the gravel drive rush up to meet his face when a pair of strong hands grabbed him from behind. His reflexes took over, and he tried to break away, until he heard Scully's voice.

"It's all right, sir. It's Mulder."

His struggling immediately ceased, and Mulder gently set him on his feet.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Russett sounded panic-stricken.

"Just a touch of flu, aggravated by too much sun." Scully's calm voice was very soothing to him. "He'll be fine, sir."

"Should we take him to the hospital?" The SAC's voice was getting louder yet seemed farther away. Skinner looked up and found that Scully had pulled a protesting Russett aside while Mulder and Skinner made their way to the car.

"Agent Mulder. Stop."

It was a command if Skinner ever heard one. Mulder must have felt the same way because he obeyed it.

Russett had made himself into a roadblock again. "What, sir?" Mulder sounded exasperated, and Skinner couldn't blame him.

"I'll take care of this," Russett said in a stern tone. "Now step aside."

"It's okay, sir," Mulder said. "We're taking him back to the motel."

"You'll do no such thing. I'm going to take him to the hospital."

"There's no need, sir," Scully said, coming up beside Skinner. "It's only the flu. Mulder and I can handle it."

"No disrespect to your medical credentials, Agent Scully, but this is the Assistant Director, and he warrants more attention than you or Agent Spooky there are capable of giving him."

Skinner was afraid he'd fainted or gone deaf, because suddenly there was an absence of all sound. He lifted his head as much as he could and was confronted with Scully's stormy face.

"Leave them alone, Jim." Skinner heard his voice, raspy but strong. A reserve strength surged through him, and he straightened to his full height. Mulder's grasp loosened, but didn't let go.

"But, Walter, you need--"

"Agent Scully is a physician. She told you I have the flu, and that I'll be fine. I'm going with them, and that's that." He turned to Mulder to tell him to start walking, and found the other agent red-faced, his temper barely under control. Now was the time, he decided. He faced Russett again. "One other thing, Jim. I don't appreciate your treating my agents like second-class citizens. They may not meet your standards, but they damn well meet mine. Do I make myself clear?"

"I haven't--"

"Yes. You have. Your preconceived notion of Agent Mulder as an alien-hunting nutcase--sorry, Mulder--has obliterated your knowledge of his well-documented prowess in the art of profiling. Here he's solved your damned case for you, and you're too fucking busy sucking up to me to pay attention to what the hell we came here for in the first place!" He paused to catch his breath, and felt all his strength drain away; he felt himself floating down to the ground. "Oh, shit. Mulder..."

"Right here, sir. After that speech, I'd be a fool to let you fall." Mulder grabbed him up in a bear hug, just short of carrying him. Skinner's face was pressed against the man's chest, and as he breathed in Mulder's clean scent, he felt protected and exposed at the same time.

"Mulder, get me out of here, please." He'd had enough of heat and crime scenes and SAC's with high ambitions.

"Yes, sir," came the quiet reply.

In two steps they were at the car. Mulder held Skinner firmly against him while Scully unlocked the doors. Suddenly Skinner started to cough into Mulder's chest, and Skinner heard the agent sigh in disgust. The AD's face got hot, and he wished he were anywhere but where he was. "Sorry," he wheezed, trying to shrug free and turn his face away.

"Sir? It's okay. Take it easy." Then another exahalation of air from the agent, deeper and louder this time. Anger. But Mulder still held him tight, and Skinner didn't understand. "Scully, would you..."

"Can we have a little privacy, please?" Her voice echoed Mulder's distaste, and when Skinner finally realized that their antipathy wasn't directed at him, he stopped struggling and rested his burning head against the cool of Mulder's shirt. "Goddamned fucking brown-noses," he heard Scully mutter. "Let me see him, Mulder."

"Why don't we let him sit down first, Scully?" Mulder asked. "I think that coughing did him in."

"Okay. Get him around to the other side where those assholes can't see him." Mulder did as directed, and helped Skinner into the car, then backed out to allow his partner access. A litany of colorful language escaped her lips as she checked his eyes, his throat...

Mulder chuckled, and Skinner realized that he'd been staring at Scully. "She was a navy brat," Mulder whispered to him when Scully left to get her medical bag. Mulder automatically took her place supporting the AD. He offered Skinner a half-empty container of bottled water. "I hope you don't mind. It's mine, and it's warm--"

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," Skinner barely choked out, accepting the bottle and taking a swallow. "It's wonderful." He downed the whole thing greedily. "I don't suppose you have more?"

"Sorry," Mulder said, taking the empty bottle from his hands. Skinner felt something soft and dry on his forehead, and closed his eyes while Mulder gently ran a handkerchief over his face. "How are you doing, sir?"

Skinner decided to go with the truth. "Terrible. Can't we get out of here now?" He didn't understand why they weren't already heading for the motel.

"As soon as Scully gets in, I'll take you back. You just hang in there until then, okay?" Mulder's voice was soothing, and he patted the AD's shoulder.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Fox Mulder?" Scully's voice came from the other door, as she climbed in beside Skinner.

"Hmph," Mulder sniffed. "Try to be a nice guy, and see what it gets me." He started to pull away, but Skinner grabbed hold of his sleeve.

"Thanks, Mulder."

"Anytime, sir."

It was then that Skinner knew how really tired he was, because his eyes were playing tricks on him.

When Mulder smiled at him, he had seen genuine affection in his eyes.

End Part 3/4