Vampire Series IX: Southern Comfort 
bu DiAnn

Rating: NC17 - language, adult themes

Category: MSSR/ Pure Trash / Discipline/ m/m Sex

Warning: Mulder/Skinner/Scully Romance. Slash





Vampire Series IX 
Southern Comfort
by DiAnn



The Open Vein Bar & Grill 
Tuesday, 9:00 p.m.

Walter Skinner looked around the dimly lit bar. He had been here once 
before with Mulder. It was a fetish bar, catering to those who wanted 
to be or thought that they were, vampires. A delusional and spooky 
group of nut cases. It was just the kind of whack-o place that Mulder 
loved.

The AD waited alone, at a small table pushed back against the far 
wall. No one had come near him yet. If Mulder were here, these people 
would be crawling all over him. Fox could never get them to stop 
touching him but with Skinner, they kept their distance. It wasn't 
that Walter wanted their attention but the obvious avoidance just made 
him that much more uncomfortable here in this Mulder-Place.

These people all acted so timid and frightened of him. Weren't 
vampires supposed to be fierce and deadly creatures? Somebody needed 
to give these people some lessons on how to pull off vampire.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice, "You wanted to see me, 
Mr. Skinner?"

A tall, handsome man stood in front of him. He looked to be in his 
late twenties with blond hair that just brushed his collar and wide 
blue eyes. He was so pale he looked to be almost translucent in the 
eerie lighting that barely reached this far corner of the large open 
room.

Skinner cleared his throat, "Yes. Vince . . . isn't it?"

When the vampire nodded, Walter continued, "Care to join me? I could 
use a scotch about now but no one seems to be waiting this table."

"They're afraid of you, Mr. Skinner. They think Fox is extraordinarily 
courageous for being your and Agent Scully's lover. They're afraid of 
her, too."

Skinner nodded his head, "Well I can understand that part at least. 
You do not want to piss off Scully. She even kicks Mulder's ass on 
occasion. Of course, she won't let anyone else get away with it."

Vince smiled at that thought and gestured into the shadows to a girl 
with long red hair. She came over with two glasses and a bottle. When 
she got close, Skinner noticed that she had a neon green streak in her 
hair and hypnotic golden eyes. The Assistant Director realized that he 
was mesmerized by those eyes and tore his gaze away and back to his 
companion. Vince was smiling at him knowingly. "Yes, Agent Scully's 
possessiveness of her partner is well known and accepted here. We 
always make sure we return him to her in the same condition we found 
him. Safer that way."

"You got that right." Skinner glanced around again, "If they want to 
pretend to be vampires, shouldn't they be more frightening or . . . 
something?"

"You don't believe we're real, Mr. Skinner?"

"I know that you believe you are a vampire. I know that Mulder 
believes it, too. I also know that you've helped him with some of his 
cases in the past." Skinner looked down into his glass and then back 
up at the vampire, "I came here to ask if you would help me."

"In what way, Mr. Skinner?"

"It's . . . it's Mulder, he's missing. I need to . . . to see if . . . 
if you can find him. I need . . . I mean . . . I want him back."

Vince reached out a hand to comfort the obviously distraught man. "Of 
course I'll help you find Mulder. But I have to tell you, we are very 
close. 

I usually sense when he's in danger and I feel nothing like that at 
the moment. Of course, he and I did have a little falling out a few 
days ago." Vince waved his hand as if to indicate how trivial the 
disagreement had been, "He worked on a fascinating case where I could 
have been most helpful. He found some pretty Russian Spy Boy to help 
him instead. I was very hurt."

"Krycek and the self-detonating witch." Skinner mumbled under his 
breath. He had been upset with Mulder about that case himself. A wave 
of guilt ripped through Walter's heart. He had really ripped into 
Mulder about that witch and of course, Mulder had proceeded to pout 
looking like some ten-year-old who wasn't really sure what he had done 
that was so bad.

"Yes, that's the one, Mr. Skinner. Witches are one of my specialties. 
Are you sure he isn't just off somewhere looking for some new kind of 
trouble to get himself into?"

Tears ran silently down the Assistant Director's face. Several 
vampires moved closer. They were voyeurs by nature, drawn to any kind 
of strong human emotion but also, they sensed a vulnerability in 
Skinner that they had not seen before. It was hard for a man to seem 
dangerous when he was in so much pain.

"I ... I got a note and . . . and this. " The AD shakily held out a 
cardboard box to Vince. When the vampire opened the lid, he found it 
to be filled with glossy chocolate brown hair. He carefully put his 
hand down into the box, feeling it's silky texture. He then brought it 
to his face and closed his eyes. Skinner would have thought he was 
smelling it except there was no sign of breath going in or coming out.

Skinner took a deep wobbly breath and continued, "They must have . . 
.have shaved his head, all that beautiful dark hair. The note said . . 
. said that they were going to send me a . . . a . . . piece of him 
every three days. They didn't even ask for anything. Just . . . just 
threatened to . . . to . . . cut him up . . . and . . . "

"It isn't his."

"Wh . . . what? We had it analyzed at our labs. It was a 99% match for 
his DNA. It has to be his."

"Mr. Skinner, this hair has never been on or near Fox Mulder. I don't 
know why your tests would show that match but I guarantee you, it 
isn't his."

"Why? How?"

"Where is Agent Scully?"

"She . . . she's in London. She got a much deserved opportunity to do 
some exchange work with Scotland Yard. It's quite a feather in her 
cap. She was personally requested for the assist. She . . . I can't 
call her back like this. I need to find him. If I find him in the next 
few days, she won't have to know. I can stall her that long. Tell her 
he's out running or working on a case. I . . . "

Skinner buried his head in his arms on the table. He felt a dozen icy 
cold hands stroking his back. He should have been repulsed but somehow 
it was very comforting.

When he lifted his head, the crowd of vampires had dwindled. "We are 
putting the word out that someone has stolen one of ours. We will find 
him, Mr. Skinner. Vampires are not the blood thirsty ghouls of legend 
but we do have our little tricks."

"Why would they send this hair to me if it isn't his?"

"You are too close to this, Mr. Skinner. You aren't thinking clearly. 
Either they don't have him and they are trying to deceive you for some 
reason. Or, they do have him but didn't want to actually ruin his 
looks. Mulder is absolutely gorgeous without the self awareness that 
usually accompanies such attributes. That is a powerful lure for 
some."

"Yes, I know. I get on him all the time about that. He's just so 
careless with his own safety. He has no idea how attractive he is." He 
looked up at the vampire, "I really do appreciate your help in finding 
him."

"I am most happy to help you. I appreciate you coming to me for 
assistance." Vince eyed the big man. He really hated to take advantage 
of him in such an unguarded moment but still . . . "Mr. Skinner, may I 
assume that I will be collecting my regular fee from you. I hate to 
mention it but . . . "

"Yes. Yes, of course. I just want to get him back. I know you will 
have expenses to cover. Whatever it is that Mulder usually gives you 
is fine, or more if you need it. I really don't care. You can have 
every cent I have if you get Mulder back safe and sound for me."

Vince smiled at the emotionally devastated man, "Mr. Skinner, I have 
no need of your money. And you might even enjoy the price I usually 
extract from my Sweet Boy. He should, after all, be the one to pay for 
his own recovery. Don't you think that would be only fair?"

Walter smiled for the first time in days. This man sounded so 
optimistic. If he was willing to wait to collect his fee from Mulder, 
then he must be quite sure of his ability to find him.

"Yes, Vince. You're right, it should be Mulder who pays you."

One Days Later Midnight

Vince stood outside a peaceful house located on a nice suburban 
street. Why would anyone think this quiet neighborhood was a good 
hiding place for a captured federal agent? The vampire could sense his 
Sweet Boy inside. He was hurt. He had been hurt earlier today. Vince 
had ascertained the injuries the moment they happened. It had been 
Mulder's own fault. He had once again managed to totally antagonize 
his captors. Captors who had, up until the time the agent opened that 
sexy but infuriating mouth, been completely infatuated with the dark 
and beautiful young man. It was hard to stay enamored with Mulder once 
he started to talk.

Vince was still furious about this whole thing. Of course, Mulder was 
annoying. You had to take that as part of the package. If these two 
morons couldn't cope with it, they should have left his Sweet Boy 
alone. These two men would be sorry that they ever took an interest to 
Fox Mulder.

The darkly handsome Giorgio materialized at his side. His soft Italian 
accent drifting on the night breeze. "These are some very bad men, 
Vince. They are hurting your beautiful mortal."

"No, they hurt him earlier but he's asleep right now. We have time. 
They won't be able to awaken him, I've seen to that. We'll wait for 
our king. He is very fond of Mulder and wants to exact revenge on 
these men. To be honest, I'm relieved. I would kill them if need be 
but I would prefer to just get Mulder back. Let King D'Argario do the 
dirty work. He comes from a time when vampires had to kill to 
survive."

"Yes, we should all be very thankful for the invention of blood 
banks."

Giorgio smiled, "You know, Mr. Skinner is still under the impression 
that you are going to ask for money in payment for your services."

"Mulder will know better. I should think this is worth a whole week of 
my choice of sexual fantasy. Don't you agree, Giorgio?"

"Are you going to let Mulder heal first?"

"No, not unless he is hurt worse than I think he is. I plan to give 
Mulder to Mr. Skinner to take care of. I find the big man as caretaker 
to be very erotic. There is no reason he can't care for his injuries 
while I collect my fee. My Sugar Boy was very naughty. He didn't let 
me help him solve a case that I was interested in. I don't think he'll 
do that again after this little adventure."

"Be careful, Vince. Mortals can be fragile and Mulder had been through 
a lot already. You haven't had your powers very long, remember, you 
must maintain complete control at all times. Otherwise Mulder could 
get hurt."

"I'll be careful. I would never hurt Mulder, I really do adore him. 
And after all, it was Mr. Skinner who made the deal. It is only fair 
that he suffer a little in this fantasy of mine. He wanted his sly 
little Fox back and he shall have him."

Ten minutes later Antonio D'Argario, the Vampire King, walked out of 
the house followed by three of his favored bodyguards and carrying Fox 
Mulder's limp body. He handed the agent to Vince with a small bow. "I 
would grant you many powers if you would let me keep this one, 
Vincent."

"I'm sorry, Sire. He is more valuable to me than even my powers."

The vampire king smiled knowingly, "Ah, so exciting to love a 
bewitching young mortal. And Vincent, do not tell the FBI man, 
Skinner, where we found him. I don't want an investigation of this 
little <crime> that would lead back to us. Those men were evil, they 
deserved what they got."

Vince nodded and returned the bow, "Yes, Sire. That will work out well 
with my own plans as well. Thank you."

As the vampire king vanished from sight. Vince spent some time 
analyzing the injuries that Mulder had incurred during his captivity. 
Two severely bruised but not broken ribs, assorted other bruises to 
his upper body, a bleeding cut on the back of the head and another 
above his left ear, split bottom lip. Vince sighed, how could anyone 
want to ruin the looks of that lip. Foolish mortals! The only injury 
that was of any real concern was a nasty knife wound to the right 
shoulder. It was about three inches long but not very deep. Vince 
thought it would be fine in a few days.

The vampire smiled, his Sweet Boy was merely battered and bruised. 
Mulder would be in pain tomorrow but he was not in any real danger 
from his wounds. Vince could collect his fee without delay. The 
vampire vanished with his beloved charge still in his arms.

Crystal City Friday, 2:00 a.m.

Walter lay studying the ceiling for another night. He couldn't 
remember the last time he had eaten a meal or slept for more than 
fifteen minutes at a time. Dana had been furious when she called 
tonight and still not gotten the opportunity to speak to her partner. 
She was suspicions. Her Mulder radar was up and she was threatening to 
take the next flight home.

He actually flinched at the sound of the phone, it seemed obscenely 
loud in the quiet, lonely apartment. God, he missed Mulder and Scully.

"Skinner."

"Mr. Skinner. Good news, we've found your lost boy." Skinner sprang to 
his feet, reaching for the jeans and shirt he had thrown over a chair 
in the corner of the bedroom.

"Vince? Where is he? Do you need backup to get him out? Is he all 
right?"

"Mr. Skinner, he'll be fine. But he is injured and does need your 
help. You must come get him and you must come alone. That's very 
important. Can you do that, Mr. Skinner?"

"Yeah sure. But . . . why alone?"

"Because he is still in danger and only you can save him." Vince gave 
him an address in rural Georgia and hung up before Skinner had a 
chance to ask any more questions. Walter looked at the phone for 
several long moments. Could this be some kind of set-up? Mulder 
trusted Vince when he trusted few others. Skinner decided to put his 
trust in Mulder's intuition about the man. He grabbed his gun and 
headed for Georgia.

Rural Georgia Just South of Summersville

Skinner slapped another hungry mosquito off the back of his neck. The 
directions he had received seemed to be leading him into a lot of 
nothing. He was hot and tired and rapidly losing his limited reserve 
of patience.

He had to leave the car about three miles back and come in on foot, 
there had been no choice. This was rough country, overgrown, wild and 
filled with wildlife. It was actually the kind of hike that Skinner 
might enjoy under different circumstances but right now all he could 
think about was regaining possession of Mulder.

As he rounded a curve in the path he had been following through the 
thick woods, he came upon a structure, an old weathered barn. The 
paint was almost all gone but it still looked sturdy. Even as 
miserable as Walter was, in this ninety-degree humidity, he had to 
admire this kind of workmanship. This barn had been built to last a 
hundred years. It had accomplished that feat and more.

Walter realized with a start, that the hair on the back of his neck 
was standing up and all the birdsong had stopped. The forest was 
deadly silent. He slowly approached the structure. Where before he had 
seen craftsmanship and simplicity of line, now he saw a hundred places 
where someone could be waiting with an ambush.

It was a classic set up, an abandoned building. Shit! No one around. 
Shit! In the middle of no where. Shit!. He hadn't even passed another 
building after turning onto the gravel road at least ten miles back. 
Where the hell was Mulder, or even Vince for that matter? This place 
looked like it hadn't been disturbed in years. He needed to have his 
head examined for playing into this stunt.

Pulling his gun from his waist holster, he crept quietly around the 
old barn. This was ridiculous, there was no one here, this had 
obviously been some kind of sick joke. In hindsight, he wasn't even 
sure that had been Vince on the phone. Losing Mulder had made him 
reckless and negligent. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't pay for it with 
his life. He did not want Dana Scully to come home to find him dead 
and Mulder still missing. She did not deserve that. As he once more 
reached the front of the old barn, he felt a little disorientated. 
Something seemed different but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Without warning, a tall, broad shouldered, unkept looking man stepped 
out in front of him. "Glad you could make it, Mr. Skinner." Skinner 
bent his knees and leveled his gun at the man's chest, "Who are you? 
Where's my agent?"

The man snapped his fingers and an equally burly man stepped into 
view. He was casually carrying an unconscious Mulder in his arms.

Skinner groaned inwardly. Why did he always find Mulder unconscious? 
Shit! Shit! Shit! Could things get any worse than this?

"Which one do you want, Mr. Skinner? Your choice. You get one now and 
one after your debt is fully paid.."

"Debt?! What debt?! One what?!" Another man stepped out of the barn 
carrying Scully. How had Scully gotten back from England in time to 
get herself kidnaped along with Mulder? Did she have to follow her 
wayward partner down every lame brained path he decided to take?

Skinner bristled, "I don't know what you're trying to pull here but it 
is a federal offense to kidnap an agent of the . . . "

"Stop spouting rules and regs, Mr. Skinner, you're in no position to 
argue with me about this. You take one of them now, we keep the other. 
You must be back here to collect your remaining agent at exactly 
midnight on Saturday, April first. That gives you precisely one week. 
What I have just told you is very important, Mr. Skinner, you must not 
be even one minute late."

The man smiled evilly as Skinner's face flushed an angry red, "I 
cannot negotiate for the return of Federal . . . "

"No more discussion, Mr. Skinner! You must have strong feeling for 
these two or you would not be here alone like this. I think they are 
very special to you. Now which one do you take with you today?"

Skinner glanced at Scully. Her smooth porcelain face was slightly 
pale, surrounded by bright red glimmering hair. She was being cradled 
carefully in one of the men's muscular arms. She almost looked like a 
sleeping child being carried lovingly to a warm bed. The giant of a 
man holding her was looking down at her tenderly. This was all so 
strange, even for something involving Mulder.

And then there <was> Mulder. His dark head was lolled far back over 
the arm of his captor, exposing his long neck. Skinner could see his 
chest rising and falling but just barely. There was a wicked looking 
bruise on his jaw and blood trickling down the side of his face. There 
was also blood dripping from the fingers of his right hand which hung 
limply down toward the ground. Skinner had no idea where that 
particular blood supply was coming from. The man holding Mulder has a 
smirk on his face. He expected Skinner to take the woman out and that 
meant he could have another go at the good-looking young cop he was 
holding.

Skinner read the man's intentions in his eyes. He sighed. No choice 
really, he had to get Mulder out of here and fast. He would not 
survive one day, let alone one week with this guy. But if he were to 
wake up and find out Skinner had left Scully here, he would be like an 
unleashed Doberman. Nothing or no one would be safe.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard 
place. "Tell me your demands now. I need to take both of them with 
me." "Sorry. It must be at precisely midnight on the first of April. I 
have no choice and neither do you. Choose one of your agents now. I'm 
losing my patience."

"Why are they unconscious?"

"Agent Mulder got a little mouthy and had to be corrected. We had to 
quiet the woman down when she saw what was happening her <partner> 
there. Rimy went easy on her. She reminds him of his baby sister." At 
the mention of his name, the man frowned and pulled Scully further 
into his embrace. Skinner looked from Scully to Mulder. Drip - Drip - 
Drip. There was now a small pool of dark blood on the ground under 
Mulder's soaked hand. Shit! "Give Agent Mulder to me." Skinner noticed 
the man holding Scully glower and pull her even closer to his large 
body. The Assistant Director certainly hoped she could still breathe. 
The big man was glaring at Skinner, he looked shocked, angered and 
extremely protective. <Please God, make that true, for all of our 
sakes.>

Skinner's words slowly sank in on the man holding Mulder. His eyes 
narrowed and his face flushed brightly, "Boss, you said he would take 
the woman. I'm not finished with . . . "

"Shut up, Slater." The leader smirked, "Just give the man his pretty 
little boyfriend." Skinner had to hold himself back, his temper had 
most assuredly reached its limit. He wanted to strangle these men with 
his bare hands. But he had to control himself for the moment or he 
would get them all killed. "But, Boss, you said I could have him and . 
. . "

"Mr. Slater, give the man his property, now."

The man holding Mulder walked slowly toward the Assistant Director. He 
stopped about three feet away and let Mulder's body drop a few inches, 
bouncing the man roughly in his arms. He did this several times, 
grinning broadly. <This guy is strong as a bull, and twice as dumb.> 
Skinner held his breath, if this guy dropped Mulder, his head would 
bounce off the rocky ground below. Something, he was certain, his 
agent did not need at the moment.

Skinner took a careful step forward and held out his arms, never 
breaking eye contact with Slater.

Their leader was losing his patience. "Give him his Pretty Boy, 
Slater. We have to go now. The time grows short."

Slater practically threw Mulder at Skinner. The Assistant Director 
barely kept his legs under him and Mulder's limp body in his arms. He 
regained his feet and backed away slowly.

He chanced a glance behind him to locate the path he had come in on. 
It was gone! Now the forest was only on two sides of the structure 
with the rest of the land being taken up in a wide expanse of fields, 
laying fallow, but stretching as far as the eye could see. And he was 
standing on a crude, hard packed dirt road, no gravel. <What the 
hell.*> Now what was he supposed to do. He looked back at the men in 
front of him. They were gone, too. And the barn . . . the barn . . .

It looked almost new, it's soft red paint glowing in the late 
afternoon sun. Skinner felt his mouth go dry. That was what had seemed 
different to him earlier, the color of that barn. He felt goose bumps 
raise up all over his body. He looked down at Mulder, hoping for an 
explanation. All he got was a flutter of eyelashes and soft muttering, 
"Da . . . Dana . . . I . . . I'm so sor . . . sorry . . . "

Shit!Shit!Shit! If Mulder regained consciousness now, he would throw a 
holy fit about Scully. Walter wasn't sure what had just happened but 
he knew they needed to get out of here. Whatever was going on was out 
of his control. And Walter did not feel comfortable without full 
control.

He laid Mulder down in the dirt. The agent was just beginning to open 
his eyes as Skinner's fist connected solidly with his jaw, knocking 
him flat on his back. What was one more bruise on that face right now 
anyway? Mulder would never know that some of his hurt could be 
attributed to the man who supposedly loved him. Walter shook his head 
sadly. At one time, he would have loved the opportunity to deck 
Mulder. Now, it hurt him worse than it did his young agent.

He pulled Mulder up by his shirt, it felt course and rough. Why the 
hell was Mulder wearing wool in this kind of weather? He sank his 
shoulder into the agent's mid-section and lifted him to fold over one 
broad shoulder. They wouldn't move fast but at least they would move. 
Now he had to find a phone or maybe a ride back to civilization.

He decided to stay on the unpaved road for a short time, to put as 
much distance as possible between them and that blasted barn. Mulder 
was getting heavier by the minute. He was going to have to put him 
down shortly for a brief rest.

All of a sudden, something heavy slammed into his back and he and his 
burden plunged forward onto the hard roadbed. The last thing he heard 
was Mulder's groan as he flew from his boss' arms, landing mercilessly 
on the rock strewn dirt road.

As Skinner came to himself several minutes later, he saw Mulder lying 
on the ground a few feet to his left. A large shape was hunched over 
his unresponsive body. As his vision cleared even more, he noticed it 
was Slater, the big man who had wanted to keep Mulder. And, he had his 
hands on Mulder's body in places the young man would not have 
tolerated had he been awake. Whoa! Nobody was going to rape Mulder 
right in front of Walter Skinner.

Skinner waited quietly until the man was totally engrossed in his 
exploration of the young, good-looking agent. Stupid Jackass, should 
have waited long enough to take Mulder somewhere else. Now he was 
going to pay for his depravity.

Skinner's big fist leaped out of the semi-darkness sending the man 
reeling backward. Skinner was on him in a heartbeat. Where the hell 
had his gun gone? He was getting as bad as Mulder. He looked around 
frantically for his weapon. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Skinner forced his bruised body to move, pummeling the man under him 
with everything he had. Finally the man fell lifeless. Skinner stood 
and used his toe to turn the man over. Out cold. To be safe, he should 
kill the bastard but it really wasn't his style.

Skinner moved back over to Mulder. Still unconscious. Good. He did not 
want to have time to deal with Fox Mulder right now. Especially one 
who had just been forcefully separated from Scully. He had to get them 
out of there. And Mulder was still bleeding. He had to get a look at 
him and see where all that blood was coming from.

The road was obviously too dangerous. He hadn't seen any buildings 
coming in and no traffic since he had entered this place. He would 
have to find shelter for the night and look for help in the morning.

He lifted Mulder, let him drop over his shoulder again and hooked a 
large hand around the back of his thighs. He glanced back at Mulder's 
would be attacker, only to find the body had vanished. What the 
hell!!! The now familiar goose flesh crawled up his spine.

He turned and all but ran into the forest, attempting not to disturb 
the ground or foliage, he did not want to leave a trail to be 
followed. The sky was beginning to look ominous, it was very likely 
going to rain later. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Moving steadily into the dense woodland, Skinner made sure to keep a 
sense of their location. Unlike Mulder, who got lost with frightening 
regularity, Skinner had a good sense of direction. It could be natural 
or it could be his time spent in Viet Nam. You <did not> get lost in 
the jungle and live to tell about it.

Thunder rumbled in the background and he heard Mulder moan softly. 
Looking around he spotted a large pine tree. Its heavy branches 
sweeping low to the ground. On closer inspection, he found there to be 
ample space underneath for the two of them and the ground was covered 
in a thick, soft layer of needles. This was probably the best shelter 
he was going to find at the moment. And he needed to check Mulder to 
find out just how badly he was hurt this time.

He carefully lowered his agent to the ground, started to unbutton the 
blue jacket. What the hell! Mulder was wearing some kind of uniform. 
Or at least the threadbare remnants of one. He looked down at himself. 
He had on a rough, dirty cotton shirt. It looked like a special 
handmade weave, worn gray pants and well scuffed black boots. Shit! He 
had never seen these clothes before. What the hell was going on here. 
His eyes flew back to Mulder. Somehow he knew that the younger man 
would be able to figure this whole thing out. Then they would find a 
way to get Scully and go home. As he pulled the wool coat away, he 
expected to see the shirt underneath covered in blood. He was half 
right, no shirt but lots of blood. How did Mulder stand that rough 
wool next to his body like that? He inspected the well-muscled chest. 
Then sucked in his breath, Mulder's entire rib cage was 

a deep, dark, stunning shade of purple. No wonder they had to 
immobilize Scully. She would have happily killed them for doing this 
to her esteemed partner.

But where was all this blood coming from? He gently removed the coat 
sleeve, searching for the source of the Mulder leak. Then he found it. 
A nasty looking cut on his right shoulder. It was red and raw, already 
looking severely infected. Walter grew lightheaded and released a 
breath he had not realized he had been holding.

Skinner lifted his hands to Mulder's hair. Sure enough he found two 
large bumps on his head, the one on the back, bleeding freely. There 
was also one above his left ear. An ear that had been scraped and cut, 
it too was bleeding onto his face. "Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, what am I 
going to do with you?" His agent did not answer.

Skinner tore off the tail of his own shirt, using it as an improvised 
bandage to curtail the bleeding in Mulder's wounded shoulder. He then 
buttoned him back into his jacket. It wasn't nearly enough to ward off 
the chill that had fallen with full darkness. He wished he could get 
Mulder out of here and into a hospital.

And then there was Scully. He hoped the man who was holding her back 
there was only half as protective as he had appeared to be. If 
something happened to Scully, it would literally kill Mulder. Then 
Walter would lose both of them. He didn't even want to think of how 
that would destroy his own life.

He lifted Mulder under his arms and drug his body under the protective 
tree. Skinner lay down beside him, pulling him tightly into his arms 
and wrapped his large warm body around the shivering agent. Had to be 
shock. Shit, why was it so cold in Georgia in April?

A short time later the storm arrived with a vengeance. The tree 
afforded a good deal of protection from the rain but Skinner was 
concerned about the lightening. He felt very vulnerable out in the 
open like this. And to make matters worse, Mulder's temperature had 
risen sharply. He was thrashing around under Skinner and calling for 
Scully. His voice often little more than a sob.

"Stop . . . no . . . don't. Stop. No . . . no . . . don't do it. Go . 
. . going to st . . . stab me. I can't move . . . No . . . no . . . 
Dana, oh, Dana . . 

. Agh-h-h-h . . . it hurts . . . can't stop him . . . my head . . . 
hitting my head . . . can't stop him . . . strong . . . no . . . 
Skinner, no . . . please, Walter . . . don't . . . No-o-o-o-o . . . "

Skinner's head flew up to look down at Mulder. "What?!" He had never 
hurt Mulder. Well he had strapped him a few times but not that hard 
and not when he didn't deserve it. Mulder always looked like a kicked 
puppy when he was being disciplined but he had never been that hard on 
him for Christ's Sake. Had he? Shit! Shit! Shit!

At least now Mulder was generating enough heat to keep them both warm. 
Sleep was defiantly out of the question with Mulder's desperate cries 
for this lost partner and rambling diatribes from his nightmares. 
Nightmares that seemed to feature Walter Skinner in the role chief 
torturer. Just great. He pulled Mulder further into his arms and 
kissed his forehead. "I'm going to get you out of this, Mulder, 
whatever it is, I promise."

Walter awakened the next morning staring into wide hazel eyes and with 
the sound of someone sneaking through the trees close by.

He put his finger up to his mouth to warn Mulder to speak softly, then 
whispered, "You okay?" He gently touched Mulder's hot, flushed face. 
The smile he got was almost worth the terrible night he had just spent 
under this damned tree.

"Are we there yet, Walter? Did you get us across the line."

Skinner stared at him. What line? Maybe it was part of the fever 
dreams. "We're in Georgia, Mulder. And I had to leave Scully." He 
waited for the fireworks to start.

"Scully?" He looked puzzled, "Bill or Charlie? And why would they be 
in Georgia? They're naval officers, there's no ocean in Georgia." 
Mulder was looking at him as if he were the crazy one. Now that was 
new and different. What the hell was going on here? "No Mulder, I had 
to leave Dana Scully back at that barn."

"Dana?!" Skinner clamped a hand over Mulder's mouth. The agent nodded 
as he tried to raise himself to a sitting position, "Leave Dana 
where?!" he whispered. "Dana is back in Washington with her father, 
Admiral Scully. She isn't here? What are you talking about, Walter?"

Skinner eyed him closely, as he gently pushed him back down, "Mulder, 
who is Dana Scully?"

"She's my fiancee. I told you about her, Walter. Don't you remember? 
Red hair, beautiful, smart." Mulder smiled again.

"Look Mulder, I don't know . . . what I mean is, don't worry about 
Scully . . . I mean, Dana. I'm sure she is exactly where she should be 
right now. You've had a hard bump on the head. Just stay right here, 
I'm going to go see if I can get some help."

"Be careful, Walter. You know I won't be welcomed in Georgia. If we 
get caught, you tell them that you found me hiding and captured me. 
Don't you try to save me. I mean it, Walt, don't you play the hero. 
The war is over, it's no time to die now, not this close to your 
home."

Skinner spared him one puzzled glance before crawling out of his 
hiding place. War? The sound of boots on dry leaves was off to his 
right. He wished he hadn't dropped his gun. He wasn't going to be able 
to chastise Mulder about his slippery fingers nearly as harshly in the 
future.

He made his way slowly in the direction of the sound, keeping the tree 
where he had left Fox as a focal point. He could not afford to get 
turned around here. Especially since whatever rabbit hole he had 
fallen down tended to change without notice.

"Hey, Walt. Didn't know ya'all had made it home." Skinner found his 
hand being pumped by a old man with an antique gun over his shoulder. 
"You remember me don't cha. Folks always called me Old Man Feeney. 
Reckon I am an old man now. You been ta' see yer mama yet? I bet 
she'll be cryin' tears o' pure joy when you step foot on her porch."

"No . . . I . . . I haven't . . . "

The man placed a sympathetic hand on Walter's shoulder. "It's all 
right, Walt. Lots of boys are coming back a little confused. Tell you 
what, why don't I walk with you fer a ways. I'd love to see the look 
of Miz Katherine's face when ya' show up there."

"Sure, fine . . . look I have someone over here who's hurt. I need to 
get him and then we can go." Skinner had no idea who this man was. He 
did have a mother named Katherine but she lived in Virginia with his 
dad. Maybe wherever this man took him, there would be a phone.

With some effort the two men were able to extract Mulder out from 
under the tree. Walter looked him over carefully. He was too pale and 
had an unnatural brightness to his hazel eyes.

"How you doing? I found us some help."

"I'm okay." Mulder eyed the old man standing nearby suspiciously, "Is 
this someone you trust?"

Walter was so engrossed in evaluating Mulder's condition, he didn't 
see the look on Feeney's face as he heard Mulder speak.

"Is that a Yankee Boy, Walt? Shit, why didn't you just shoot him. We 
can't be hauling no Yankee butt all the way back to your folk's house. 
Here you stand back and I'll take care of him right now."

Skinner was so shocked, he just barely slapped the gun away before it 
went off. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Old Man?"

"Just killing me a Yankee Boy, Walt. You didn't think I was gonna' let 
you young bucks have all the fun. We been gettin' rid of ever Blue 
Belly that got lost down here. Now stand back, you made me miss last 
time."

"Stop. He's . . . he's not what you think . . . "

"Sure he is, I heard him talk. That boy's from one of them up north 
states fer sure. New York or maybe Pennsvlvanie."

"Martha's Vineyard." Skinner whispered to himself.

"See, I knowed it. That's up north, right? I never rightly heard of it 
but it's got a northern sound to it. Now stand back and let me put him 
out of his misery."

Skinner grabbed the barrel of the gun. He felt like his head was full 
of cotton.

Everything was happening as if from a great distance. Then he heard 
Mulder talking to him. He had evidently been trying to get his 
attention for some time and was struggling to get to his feet.

Skinner reached down to help him and was shocked when his hand was 
slapped away, "Get your hands off me, Reb. I can stand up and die like 
a man. You just go on and find your family. You don't need to worry 
about taking me prisoner, I'd rather be shot anyway."

Skinner gaped at him as Mulder swayed dangerously on his feet and 
turned to face the armed man, "Come on, Old Man. Do what you have to 
do." George Feeney raised his gun as Fox swayed once more and then 
collapsed into Walter's arms.

"Well, Shit! Stand that boy back up, Walt. I can't get him when you're 
holding him like that."

Walter lost his patience. He laid Mulder on the ground as gently as 
possible. He then easily relieved the man of his gun. "You listen to 
me, Old Man. I don't know who you are or what you think you're doing 
but no one, and I do mean no one, is going to shoot Fox Mulder while I 
stand by and watch." "I can't believe it. Walter Skinner gone soft on 
some pretty Yankee Boy. Your brothers are going to be turning over in 
their graves. Your poor mama. This'll pert near kill her, fer sure."

Skinner suddenly felt a chill run up his spine. "What did you say 
about my brothers?"

"Didn't you hear Walt? Robert, Jacob and Steven, they was all kilt in 
the war. You're the last Skinner boy left. Your pa's still alive but 
he took a bullet in the knee at Appomattox and can't get around too 
well. They been waitin' fer word of you fer months.

Skinner felt the world around him fade into faint sounds and blurs of 
color. This was ridiculous. He did have three brothers but Bobby had a 
wife and three kids and lived in Oregon. Jake sold real estate in 
Tampa and was on his fourth wife. Steve was a surgeon and lived in 
Virginia with his Pediatrician wife, Joanne. What the hell was going 
on here! He needed to get Mulder someplace where he could take care of 
his injuries and get him conscious long enough to explain just what 
was going on. They were in the middle of an X-File and Mulder was 
missing the whole damned thing. Walter wished he could be so lucky 
himself.

"Tell me how to get to my parent's house." He glared at the Feeney. He 
did not have time for silly games right now and the man would be wise 
to recognize that fact right now.

"Oh, so that's it. You been hurt in the war. Lost your memory. That 
explains it." Speaking to Skinner like was part of a slow learner's 
class in elementary school, the old man gave him directions to White 
Oaks Plantation. Skinner felt like his back was going to break at any 
minute. He and Scully may have to force feed Mulder at times, but he 
was still no light weight. He had come to about an hour ago demanding 
to be let down so he could walk on his own. That had lasted all of ten 
minutes before he had tumbled into a ditch by the side of the road. If 
he woke up again, he <was not> getting down. It was easier to carry 
him than to dig him out of ditches.

Skinner topped a small rise and stood stunned at the sight before him. 
A marvelous white plantation house, complete with stately pillars and 
a drive bordered by giant oak trees. White Oaks Plantation?

He hefted Mulder's weight a little more comfortably on his shoulder. 
"Don't suppose I could get you to keep your New England mouth shut, 
huh Mulder? I've never been able to shut you up before, I can't 
imagine I'll have any better luck now." He sighed and headed for the 
house.

White Oaks Plantation Time Unknown

Kate Skinner had just come out to chase the chickens away from her 
front veranda. Just because they didn't live as graciously as they 
once had, didn't mean they had to live like animals. Maybe if Charles 
had a good day tomorrow, he would feel like fixing that chicken coop 
so those disgusting birds wouldn't have free run of the grounds.

She looked up to see a big man with something over his shoulder, just 
starting to walk down the drive. She knew in less than a heartbeat. 
Walter! She took off running, tears streaming down her still lovely 
face, to greet her only remaining son.

Walter stopped his slow progression as he saw someone fling themselves 
off the front porch and start running toward him. As she got closer, 
he recognized his mother. His mother who should, at this very minute, 
be sitting in her pretty kitchen in Virginia having coffee with a 
neighbor. He tightened his hold on Mulder's legs. They were caught in 
the Twilight Zone and his agent's accent was going to get him killed. 
He struggled not to drop the man over his shoulder, as his mother 
descended on him with hugs and kisses and tearful rejoicing at finally 
being reunited with him.

"Walter, you're home at last. I was so worried. When we didn't hear 
any word . . . I was just so scared . . . I don't know if I could have 
stood . .. "

"Mom. Mom! Please, everything is fine, Mom. I'm here now. Everything 
will be fine." He kissed the top of her dark head.

Mrs. Skinner wiped her eyes on her apron, laughing now but still with 
tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh Walter, of course it will, 
everything will be fine now. Come in the house. Your father will be so 
pleased to see you. And what do you have there?"

She darted a look around her son, turning Mulder's face so she could 
see him. "Oh, it's just a boy."

"He's older than he looks."

"I'm sure he is, Son, this war has made everyone older. What happened 
to him, Walter? Is he one of the Matthews from Auburn? They always had 
such nice looking dark-haired boys."

Walter didn't know what to say to her. This was his mother but then 
again it wasn't. Walter himself seemed to be the only one who knew 
that he did not belong here, not in this place and not in this time. 
That thought made him dizzy again. It was Mulder who could deal with 
things like this, not him. And Mulder, if that little demonstration of 
self sacrifice he put on for Old Man Feeney was any indication, 
thought he was a Yankee soldier, too.

"Mom, I . . . he's hurt. I need to get him into a bed so I can take 
care of him. I need . . . "

"Sh-h-h, of course you do, Dear. I'm sorry, I don't know what I was 
thinking, keeping you standing in the road like this. You bring your 
friend in the house, we'll have him up causing mischief before you 
know it."

She laughed at her son's expression, "Oh Walter, any mother can tell a 
rascal when she sees one and that boy has it written all over that 
handsome face of his."

************ 

Walter Skinner laid the wet, cool cloth across Mulder's eyes. He had 
stripped him of his blue uniform and stuffed it under the bed. He 
planned to bury it at his first opportunity. His mother had found a 
pair of patched but clean trousers somewhere. Walter would find a 
shirt for him once he was up and around.

He looked down at the unconscious man. He hadn't awakened since he 
took that last fall in the road and was shifting restlessly on the 
bed, mumbling under his breath. Walter was worried, there were 
certainly no hospitals available now.

"How is he, Dear?" He smiled at his mother as she came in carrying a 
large basket. She really did look lovely in that long faded gown. Of 
course, his mother had always been a beautiful woman and neither age 
nor ragged clothing had dimmed that beauty in the least.

"I wish he would wake up."

"He will, Walter. Now you move aside and let me use some of my herbs 
on him. We'll have this boy fit as a fiddle in no time." She took some 
leaves from her basket and began crushing them in a small bowl. A 
large black woman appeared in the doorway carrying a steaming bowl of 
water. She smiled brightly at Walter who returned the smile. He had no 
idea who she was but she knew him, that was more than obvious.

His mother touched his arm to get his attention, "You better hold him 
down, Walter. This is going to cause him some pain but it's necessary 
to stop the infection that has set in that wound."

Skinner got a good hold on Mulder's upper body, pulling him back to 
rest against his own broad chest. Mulder's head immediately lolled 
back to rest on his shoulder. Walter could feel the heat radiating 
from his body. Even holding the agent tightly, he was unprepared for 
the man's violent reaction when the hot poultice was placed on his 
injured shoulder.

Skinner ran a soothing hand through his hair, "Sh-h-h-h, Fox. It will 
be all right. Calm down now, this is the best medicine we have 
available to us at the moment."

"Did you call him <Fox>, Walter. That is such an unusual name. I don't 
remember any of the Matthews' boys having such an odd name. Virginia 
Mathews will just be beside herself, she thought all of her boys were 
killed. I can't wait to let her know that I have one of them here 
waiting for her." "Mother." He waited until Kate Skinner was looking 
into his eyes, "He isn't 

a Mathews. His name is Fox Mulder."

"I don't remember any Mulders, Walter. Where is he from? Is he one of 
yours Walter? Was he under your command."

Skinner would not lie to her. He could not lie to his mother, even 
this woman who was his mother but not. "Yeah, he is . . . was . . . 
Yes, he's one of mine. But, Mom, he's . . . from Massachusetts."

Mrs. Skinner froze. "He's . . . he's a Yankee? Oh Walter, no." She 
rose and turned away from the bed and her son.

"He . . . "

"The Yankees killed your brothers, Walter, all three of them. And they 
crippled your father both physically and mentally. He isn't even my 
husband anymore. Not the same strong man that I married anyway. That 
boy can not stay in this house, Walter, I won't allow it. I can't."

Walter laid Mulder down gently and rose from the bed. He placed his 
hands on his mother's shoulders, turning her softly to face him. 
"Please, just until he's well enough. I can't allow him to die. He 
saved my life, maybe more than once. And in more than one way. Can't 
you find a little charity in your heart for a man who saved your only 
son?"

Kate looked deeply into her son's eyes. Then she looked at the young 
man still thrashing restlessly on the bed. He did look terribly young 
and helpless. This damned war had already claimed so many mothers' 
sons. She felt her heart soften.

"All right, Walter. If you say he is worth saving, I will save him. 
But the minute he can travel, I want him off this property." She 
turned to the other woman, "Sally, I think it would be best if neither 
Mr. Skinner nor Mr. Krycek were to hear about this. We will tell them 
that this is one of the men who fought with Walter. Will that be all 
right with you, Sally?"

The woman nodded her head and studied Walter closely. He had the 
feeling that he had never gotten anything over on Sally. "Yes Ma'am, I 
think that would be for the best."

"All right, Walter. Now tie his hands to the bed. I have to put more 
of these leaves on that wound and I don't want him moving too much."

"Mom, I don't want to tie him. Can't I just hold him down and . . . "

"Do as I say, Walter, and stop calling me that ridiculous name. I am 
still your mother and I expect to be addressed as such. Now, your 
father is waiting for you in the library. He can't manage the stairs 
anymore. Why don't you go on down and speak with him while I finish up 
here."

As gently as possible, Walter tied Mulder's wrists to the bed. He gave 
one last look at the bound man, who looked ridiculously young lying 
there like that. He winced as his mother slapped another hot poultice 
down on the ugly wound and Mulder screamed in pain. The agent's hair 
was dripping with perspiration, his hands clawing at the bed posts.

"Don't hurt him, Mo . . . Mother. Please."

She looked up at her son and her eyes softened. "Go on with you now, 
I'll make sure nothing happens to him before you get back. He'll be 
fine, I promise, Walter. I won't hurt him more than is necessary."

Cont'd part 9b