Walter Skinner stared at the paperwork on his desk; he wasn't making any progress at all. He was deeply worried about his lover. His eyes strayed to the large photo on his desk. Earlier this year he had gotten his whole team of agents together at the annual picnic for a photo – he and Mulder were standing right next to each other, Scully directly in front of them. His other agents surrounded the three in a semi-circle. No one had seen Mulder surreptitiously slip his hand into Skinner's while the picture was taken; he had looked away from the camera slightly, looking bored, keeping up his "spooky", anti-social persona. Skinner smiled sadly, thinking about Mulder's outer self, so hard and rigid; deep inside, buried by all the pain and betrayal in his life, was a loving, caring man who would do anything for those he loved and trusted. Skinner cheered up a little; he was drawing a little bit of that hidden Mulder out into the open despite all of Mulder's tough words and antagonizing behavior. Skinner chuckled to himself, thinking how stunned Scully would be if she knew what a pussycat Mulder really was, especially after sex. He loved to cuddle and kiss and even talk a little baby talk, snuggling up to Skinner like a little boy.

If only Mulder were safe back at home! Skinner always worried about him when he was travelling on assignment, but this time it was different. Mulder was so evasive on the phone. Something just had to be wrong!

Skinner was startled out of his reverie by the buzz of his phone.

"Yes, Kim?"

"A gentleman to see you, sir," Kim replied. "Your colleague."

Damn! That was Kim's code word for the smoking man – Spender! Skinner groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Send him in."

Skinner turned to his office door and watched him come in. The man slithered in, cigarette dangling from his lips, oblivious to all the non-smoking signs in the building. Spender settled himself in the chair in front of Skinner's desk. He sat quietly, puffing his cigarette, flicking the ashes on the floor.

"Could you at least use the ashtray?" barked Skinner, shoving the ashtray he kept on his desk toward Spender.

"Might touchy today, aren't we?" sneered Spender, flicking more ashes on the floor. Skinner glared.

"Just tell me what you want and get out."

"All in good time." Spender continued to drag on the cigarette, not taking his eyes off Skinner's face. He knew the big man couldn't stand it, but he had to have all his power cards in play to make this work.

Skinner watched the clock on his wall tick away. He could feel his blood pressure rising as Spender sat there and stared. He was in rare form today – ever since all the events of the past spring he hadn't been this cool and collected. Skinner had thought the smoker had lost the power over him and his agents.

"Mulder is in North Carolina," the smoker said after a few more minutes.

"Nothing slips by you, eh?" replied Skinner, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"I wouldn't take that tone, Skinner. You wouldn't want me to leave without giving you the information I know."

"You're going to tell ME something? I don't believe it."

"Now, that isn't fair, is it? I've helped you quite a few times. If someone didn't tell you when to reign your agents in, you would have been fired long ago."

"Really? And I thought they kept me around for my good looks."

"A joke? From the tough, no-nonsense ex-marine? Imagine that."

"Get to the point, or I'm going to throw you out of this building myself," growled Skinner. He got up and leaned on his desk, hovering menacingly over Spender. This move intimidated most of his agents, but Spender simply blew smoke in his face.

"Get out!" shouted Skinner, coming around the desk ready to grab Spender.

"Mulder is in quite a bit of danger," the smoker said quietly.

Skinner stopped, standing still as a statue. After a moment, he pulled himself together and returned to his chair behind the desk.

"Go on," he said quietly.

"What? No more idle threats of physical violence?"

"GO ON!" roared Skinner, his face turning red. He wanted to strangle Spender, tear his head off, take a knife and cut him from throat to groin – he couldn't think of enough violent acts to perpetrate on the smoker.

"You better calm down or you'll have a stroke right here," cautioned Spender. "Relax a moment – I'm feeling very generous. I'll tell you all I know."

Skinner closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to clear his mind. He wouldn't be able to help Mulder if he had a stroke. When he felt control again, he opened his eyes and sat back.

"Tell me what you know."

"Like I said, Mulder is in danger. Our favorite little traitor is headed his way even as we speak."

"You don't mean…"

"Yes, the handsome but oh so deadly Krycek is probably even now quietly stalking our favorite F.B.I. agent."

Skinner got up and started pacing. Not Krycek! Every time that rat bastard shows up Mulder gets into lots of trouble.

"Of course, he might not have murder plans for Mulder," said Spender thoughtfully. Come on, you big oaf – fall for the bait.

Skinner stopped pacing. "What do you mean? He's going after Scully?"

"No."

"Just spit it out, you no good son of a bitch!"

"Temper, Mr. Skinner, temper. This may come as a shock to you, but I have it on a very reliable source that," Spender paused and leaned forward. "Your agent Mulder is, well, gay," he whispered.

"What?" choked Skinner, trying to keep his cool. Was Spender serious? Could he really not know that Mulder and he had been lovers for the past six months?

"Surprised you, did I? I couldn't believe it myself until I saw the surveillance photos."

"Photos?" squeaked Skinner.

"Yes, of Mulder and Krycek. Some of them are quite, well, intimate." Spender could hardly contain himself. If his son hadn't been truly in danger, he would stop right here and watch the thick-necked A.D. go apoplectic over the idea of Mulder and Krycek together. "Would you like to see them?" he asked, pulling a yellow envelope out of his coat pocket.

Skinner sat and looked at the yellow envelope Spender had dropped on the desk. He hesitantly reached out for it several times, but drew back. He couldn't. He shouldn't. But, HIS Mulder, his Fox, and Krycek? Krycek had killed Bill Mulder, most likely killed Scully's sister Melissa, was instrumental in Scully's abduction, had exposed Mulder to the black oil, had done everything in his power to sabotage the X-Files. Mulder couldn't possibly have been his – he couldn't even think the word – lover?

Spender watched as the internal war raged in Skinner's head. He knew the A.D. was insecure in his relationship with Mulder when it came to his age and his baldness – who wouldn't feel inadequate compared to the charms of Alex Krycek?

No, it wasn't true, thought Skinner. A memory flashed in his mind. A couple of months ago, he and Mulder were sleeping. They hadn't made love that night because Skinner had been too tired – he couldn't get an erection. Mulder was so understanding, so sweet – they just cuddled and kissed. Skinner had awakened about 3:00 am; Mulder had kicked him in his sleep. He looked down at the dark lashes, the mole, the full lips. He loved to watch Mulder sleep. He noticed that Mulder had a hard-on, and would occasionally stroke it while he was asleep. Skinner had reached for it when he stopped at what Mulder moaned in his sleep. "Ooh, Alex…"

Alex? Who was Alex?

"Alex, stop that!" Mulder giggled slightly, still sound asleep. His erection swelled even larger. Mulder fingered his penis again. He ejaculated, then slipped into a deeper slumber.

Skinner looked at the yellow envelope again. He had convinced himself that Mulder was remembering a sexual encounter with a woman. But he knew Mulder was gay, so why would it be a woman? And what other Alex could there be? No – he would trust Mulder. Mulder would have told him if he and Krycek had been lovers. Wouldn't he?

Skinner snatched the envelope up and whipped the pictures out. He turned pale as he flipped through them. He lingered on a few – Mulder and Krycek holding hands on a park bench, Mulder leaning in to whisper in Krycek's ear; the two of them kissing, Mulder's arms around Krycek's neck; worst of all, Mulder naked, on his knees, deep-throating Krycek's cock as he sat on Mulder's leather sofa. Skinner shoved the pictures back into the envelope. He barely heard what Spender said next.

"You see now why I think Krycek may have some other goal in mind. There have been rumors reaching me that insinuate he's planning to get Mulder back as a lover. By any means necessary."

"I see," Skinner replied quietly.

"I'm giving you a heads up. You better get your agent back here right away, or there's no telling what will happen to him. Or to any petite, red-headed partners that might get in the way."

"Leave," hissed Skinner, not wanting to here anymore.

"I'll leave the pictures with you. I have my own copies," Spender said, laughing. "I haven't even shown you the best ones. There's a particularly good one of Mulder on his hands and knees, looking over his shoulder at Krycek, begging…"

"Enough! Get out!" shouted Skinner, leaping toward his office door, tearing it open. As soon as Spender cleared the door, he shouted at Kim. "No more calls or visitors!"

He slammed the door as hard as he could and locked it. He stood near the door, every part of him shaking in – grief? Anger? He didn't know. His insides were twisted up in knots.

Skinner walked over to the couch and sat on the edge. He was staring out into space – he couldn't believe his Fox had been Krycek's lover. And he hadn't told him! And now his life was in danger again from that lunatic!

Skinner slid to the floor, on his knees. He leaned his elbows on the coffee table and covered his face with his hands.

It took him a while to realize that he was crying.

Jo's next!