Friends and Lovers III: Any Port in a Storm

by J D Rush

Title: Friends and Lovers III: Any Port in a Storm Author: J.D. Rush
Fandom: X-Files
Feedback: oh, yes, please! yanksfan462@aol.com Webpage: http://itak.slashcity.net/
Pairing: Skinner/O
Rating: R for language and m/m affection

Summary: The third story of the 'Friends and Lovers Trilogy'; sequel to "It was a Very Good Year", and "Third Wheels". Mulder is gone, Scully is pregnant, and Skinner is at the end of his rope. Sometimes, you need to lean on your friends.

Spoilers: Requiem; Within; minor ones for SR-819, Field Trip, En Ami, and Brand X.

Disclaimers: Sorry. I refuse to write one. 1013 threw them away-these boys belong to US now!

Author's Note: This story takes place approximately three years following the events of "Third Wheels", during those missing hours between "Requiem" and "Within". Just a possible scenario of what happened after Skinner left Scully's hospital room.

Special Thanks: Once more to sweet Shamrock, for her superb beta skills. You're a peach, my friend.

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Any Port In A Storm
By J. D. Rush

MAY, 2000
SKINNER:

<He's gone. I can't believe he's fucking gone! Vanished right in front of me. One minute he was the there, the next--ptttthhh. The crazy bastard had been right all these years, after all. Fucking UFO's DO exist, and he's on one of them. SHIT! I can't believe this is happening. I refuse to believe it's happening.

You hear that, Mulder? I DO NOT BELIEVE!!

Yet. . .how can I NOT believe? Scully is sleeping right now in a hospital bed, resting from the tests performed on her, one of which concluded she was pregnant. Dana Scully--who is sterile, who was MADE sterile by those bastards who abducted her--sobbingly confessed to me less than two hours ago that she was going to be a mother.

And Mulder is the father. She didn't tell me that, but it was implied. I don't know what they did but whatever it was, they did it behind my back. And it hurts, dammit! How could they do that to me? How could they betray me like that?

Oh, Christ. What the fuck am I going to do now?>

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I somehow found my way to Mulder's dank little apartment. He's kept it all these years as a cover for our relationship. Scully, too, still has her own place in Annapolis. We had to be careful not to be discovered--we all had too many enemies. No way we could just find a house somewhere in the suburbs and live like normal people. Normal. Now there's a laugh. How could our little m,nage-a-trois ever be considered 'normal'? But it was, for us. Absolutely, perfectly normal.

So they spent some evenings at my place, and we spent some time at Scully's residence, and occasionally we'd converge on Chez Mulder. Like I was doing that night. I had to be near him somehow, and his depressing apartment seemed to fit my mood. The best thing about the joint was the liquor store right on the corner--even questionable neighborhoods have their good points. I ran in and purchased a few bottles of scotch, knowing I was gonna need all the help I could to get through the night.

I was stretched out Mulder's lumpy old leather couch, having just cracked the seal on the second bottle of J&B, when I heard some scraping at the keyhole. Looking up, I saw shadows under the crack of the door--someone was obviously standing right out in the hallway and wanted in. Without hesitating I picked up my service weapon, the one that had been staring at me for the past hour as it sat on Mulder's cluttered coffee table, and aimed it at the front door. Boy, that stupid fucker was gonna get the surprise of his life to find me here. Half of me was hoping it was Krycek--I was itching for a good fight, and I knew Alex wouldn't disappoint.

Another second or two and the door sprung open. "Voila," I heard a familiar voice say, and I instantly put down the gun.

Great. Just what I needed tonight. The fucking Three Stooges.

Suddenly the room was filled with artificial brightness as the ceiling light was flipped on, and I was forced to shield my eyes from it. "See, I was right--he IS here," Frohike trumpeted. "You owe me a ten-spot, Langly."

"Yeah, you're always right, Mr. Know-It-All," came the snotty reply from the younger man.

"Guys. . .another time, okay?" Byers the Diplomat broke in.

I was REALLY not in the mood for this.

"What the hell do you guys want?" I growled in my most intimidating AD's voice. "And how the hell did you find me?"

Byers flinched at my barking, but was able to get out, "We stopped by your condo."

"But you weren't there," Langly continued the thought.

"Figured this would be your next stop," Frohike finished. It was freaky the way the three of them spoke, as if one entity. I had heard Mulder say they had some kind of geek-telepathy. . .now I was getting a first-hand look at it.

By this point they had made their way into the room and started to make themselves comfortable. Frohike came and sat on the arm of the couch to my right while Byers sat down on the other side of me. Langly, meanwhile, sat on the floor, Indian-style, at my feet. The only way I was going to get them out of there was to physically throw them out. And since that was virtually impossible in my inebriated condition, I had no choice but to let them stay. "You boys want a drink?" I asked through gritted teeth, showing my irritation. "Spare glasses are in the kitchen."

As I reached for the bottle to refill my tumbler, Frohike nimbly snatched it from my fingers along with my nearly-empty glass. "Looks to me like you've already had enough, Walt," he informed me, condescendingly.

"Fuck you, Frohike," I snarled, even though I knew he was right. "Give that back! And don't fucking call me Walt!"

"Make me," he challenged, as he hopped off the armrest and started walking to the kitchen. I tried to do the same, but Byers placed his hand on my arm to still me.

"I think Mel's got the right idea," he said softly, removing his hand once he was sure I wasn't going anywhere. "Perhaps you have had enough for now."

Langly then threw in his two cents, "Yeah, Skinman--this isn't the time to be getting hammered."

"What the hell do you know about it?" I mocked.

"We know what happened to Mulder," Byers replied, gently.

"And we know about Scully's baby," Frohike added, walking back into the room.

I know my eyes grew wide. There was no way they could know that. Hell, Scully had just found out a few hours ago herself. "How. . .?"

"We, ah, we have our ways," Langly answered, vaguely and uneasily.

"We grew concerned when Scully fainted in your office," Byers explained.

"And we tracked her progress at the hospital," Frohike finished, taking up his former place on the armrest.

I snorted contemptuously, "You hacked into her personal medical files, you mean."

"We were VERY concerned," Byers emphasized.

"We didn't do it maliciously," Langly protested.

"Or because we were nosy," Frohike supplemented.

"We only wanted to be sure she was okay," Byers concluded.

I felt like I was watching a three-way tennis match, trying to keep track of this conversation and I briefly wondered if it would have made any more sense even if I WAS sober! "And now you're here. What for? More information?" I accused.

Frohike shook his head and uttered an emphatic, "No."

"We're here to make sure YOU'RE okay, too," Langly insisted.

I shot him a look of disbelief and sneered, "Lanlgy, I lost Mulder to some fucking UFO. I should say I'm as far from fucking okay as you can get."

Byers threw his arm around my shoulders and gave a sympathetic squeeze. "Walter, we're here to help."

"We'll find Mulder," Frohike assured, patting me on the thigh.

"We're your friends," Langly persisted, laying his hand on my left knee. "We're concerned about you, too."

Didn't they understand? I didn't deserve their friendship. I didn't deserve their concern. I had failed, the ultimate failure. I had failed to keep Mulder safe. I had promised him I would. And Scully. I promised her everything was going to be okay. And now. . .

Now she was pregnant, with a child who would never know his father, and it was all my fault. Poor little guy. Or girl. Yeah, a sweet little girl in pale pink lace who'd look just like Scully, accusing me with big blue eyes for not protecting her father. Oh, God. I just wanted to be left alone. "Just go away. Please," I all but begged. "I want to be by myself for awhile."

"Why? So you can blow your fucking brains out?" Frohike fired back angrily, as he pointed at the gun on the coffee table.

Okay. Now I was starting to get seriously freaked out. How could he POSSIBLY know I had thought that? It had only been for a split-second, a moment of weakness when it seemed like my entire world was coming to an end. Only the thought of Dana alone--and my beautiful missing Mulder-- stilled my hand. "That was for protection," I protested, weakly.

"Don't jerk my chain, Skinner," Frohike chided me. "I know what you were thinking. Now look, you're probably feeling really shitty right now and the easy way out is looking better and better. But goddammit, Mulder is out there, and he needs you."

"He needs all of us," stated Langly.

"We have to pull together if he's to be found," Byers proclaimed.

At that point, I snapped. I hadn't asked for visitors, and I sure as shit hadn't asked for visitors with nothing better to do than to bug the fuck out of me. "For your information, Mulder is NOT out there!" I bellowed. "I don't know how many times I can tell you guys that, but get it through your thick heads--he's gone. He's not even on this fucking planet anymore. There's no WAY to find him. He was abducted right in front of me. I couldn't stop it. I--FAILED--HIM!" I enunciated as clearly as I could.

It got instantly silent as my words sunk in. But just when I thought they'd pack up and leave me the fuck alone, Byers whispered, "What about Scully? She needs you now more than ever."

Scully. Shit. He would have to bring her up. I was so wrapped up in the loss of Mulder that I hadn't really had the time to work through all my feelings over her and her joyous announcement. On one hand, I was very happy for her, ecstatic, even. I knew how badly she wanted to have children, and somehow she had been given the chance to have her wish come true. And part of me was very excited about the event. Sharon and I were never able to have a child--this would be my one opportunity to be a dad.

On the other hand, I was angry at both her and Mulder for making this decision without me, for leaving me out of the loop. For keeping secrets from me. I didn't know their reasons, but I couldn't help feeling hurt by it. After all, everything boiled down to a matter of trust with them. I did everything I could to prove to them how loyal I was, how dependable I was. My biggest concern was how to protect them and keep them safe, even when my own safety--my own life--was in jeopardy. I'd do anything for them and this was the way they repaid me. When push came to shove, I was not awarded the same trust they gave so easily and so freely to each other. And that hurt more than I could possibly explain.

As for the possibility that they were thinking of cutting me loose so they could get married and live like a 'normal' family--I didn't even want to think about that. It was far too depressing.

"How could they do this to me?" I found myself mumbling, my voice small and stripped of its authority. "They never told me what they were doing. . .I. . .I didn't think we kept secrets from each other. But they did. They lied to me. They betrayed me."

"Walter, I'm sure that was never their intention," Frohike said compassionately.

Langly patted my knee and added, tenderly, "It's possible that it was going to be a surprise."

"And they didn't want to tell you until they were sure," Byers continued, his tone even and calm.

"So you wouldn't be disappointed if it didn't work out," Langly completed.

I looked from one to the other to the other, my jaw dropping to the floor. They had just presented a scenario to me that had never crossed my mind. Improbable, but not impossible, knowing those two. "Do you think so?" I asked hopefully, hating the way my voice cracked as I said it.

Frohike slapped me hard on the thigh. "I know Mulder loves you, big guy. He'd never do anything to hurt you. And neither would Scully."

"Whatever their reasons, Scully is alone now," Byers stated with his customary tact. "She's going to need your strength and your love to pull her through this."

"I. . .I don't know, Byers," I stammered. "I don't know if I can do it anymore. I'm always 'the strong one', but I'm so tired. Just once I wish. . ."

"Someone else would be strong," Frohike finished first.

"Someone else would take responsibility," Byers came in second.

"Someone else would take care of YOU for a while," Langly pulled in third.

Once more I looked from one Gunman to another, wondering how they had gotten into my head so easily. And the single word I spoke came out as little more than a sob: "Yes."

Oh God, how had it gotten so out of control? How had everything fallen apart so quickly? For three years--three glorious years--Mulder, Scully, and I were happier than anyone deserved to be. Sure there were valleys along with the peaks--being infected with those damn nanocytes, nearly losing both of my lovers to some goddamn mile-long underground fungus, Mulder's battle with mutated tobacco beetle larvae, not to mention Scully running off with Cancerman behind our backs. But in the end, the good times more than outweighed the bad. And even during the worst of times I wouldn't have changed a thing--just being able to wake up with those beautiful people curled up around me made it all worth while. I'd watch them as they slept, and thank my maker for giving me so much bliss. But now. . .now. . .

I was so lost in my memories I barely noticed Frohike pick up my gun and start to head out of the living room. "Where are you taking that?" I demanded.

"Someplace safe, where it won't go off accidentally," came the compassionate reply as he walked away. I knew I should have stopped him. A law official doesn't let anyone touch his gun, but I could tell from Frohike's face I wasn't going to get it back without a fight. And in my weakened condition, he would have kicked my ass into last week.

He returned a minute or two later, carrying a large kelly-green velour bathrobe. I recognized it as one that Dana had given me for Christmas last year. I kept it here at Mulder's place--it had come in handy on numerous occasions. (Fox always looked so sexy all wrapped up in it--the green really brought out the color of his eyes.) "Let's get you into bed, big guy," he called out.

As if that were some kind of secret code, Langly and Byers began to strip me out of my clothes. Catching me completely off guard, they managed to peel off my jacket, tie, and dress shirt before I even realized what was going on. Feeling Langly's hands on my belt buckle, however, snapped me out of my daze. "Stop that!" I commanded, swatting their hands away.

"Jesus, Walt, chill out," Frohike chuckled. "Your virtue's safe with us. We're just trying to get you ready for bed."

"I'm not tired," I insisted, even as Langly continued his task. Byers, meanwhile was busy folding up the clothes they had managed to get off.

"Bullshit," Frohike scoffed. "You're practically falling asleep on us anyway."

"Besides, you're going to need to be strong and alert if you're going to hunt for Mulder," Byers expanded.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. He's gone! I saw the fucking spaceship fly off! The aliens have him and he's not coming back!" I reminded them curtly.

"Nice defeatist attitude, Skinman," Langly grumbled sarcastically.

"Not defeatist," I corrected. "Realistic. He's gone." <Oh fuck, he's GONE!>

Dropping the robe on a nearby chair with obvious disgust at my attitude, Frohike put his hands on his hips and declared, "Then we'll just have to look for him ourselves. You can join us if you want, or you can stay here and drown in your scotch. But dammit, that boy is gonna be found if it's the last thing I do!"

"Yeah, if only so we can kick him in the ass for what he's done to you," Langly promised.

"And Scully," Byers added.

"And us," Frohike finished with a sly grin.

"I can't sleep," I confessed uneasily as Langly completed his task by peeling my dress slacks down and off--thankfully he left my briefs on. "I'm. . .I'm afraid to fall asleep." I had barely slept a wink since leaving Oregon. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mulder strapped to a chair, being forced to submit to experiments against his will. I didn't know if that's what was happening to him--I could only pray that I was wrong.

"We know how hard this is for you, Walter," Byers sympathized.

Frohike came over and took a seat to my right on the couch. "That's why we came here tonight," he said kindly, patting me on the shoulder. "To be here for you, and help you get through this."

At that point, Langly kneeled up from his sitting position, and wrapped his arms around my neck. "You were there for me once, Walter," he whispered tenderly, "and we shared something very special. You gave the courage to go after my heart's dream. I owe you so much. Let me thank you for all you gave me." He smiled at me fondly, then softly kissed me. Nothing sexual, just an affectionate, sweet pressing of his warm lips to mine.

It felt so good, yet so undeserved. Mulder was out there, alone, and it was my all fault. And HIS friends were here comforting me when all I really deserved was their condemnation and their wrath. From somewhere, a sorrowful keening echoed in my ears, and I was distressed to find out it came from me.

Langly had no sooner withdrawn from me than he was replaced by Byers. He cupped my face in his elegant hands and shushed, "Let us be here for you, Walter." His kiss was as gentle as the man himself.

A strong hand on my right shoulder made me turn towards Frohike. We stared at each other for a long time--a couple of grizzled old vets who had both been in the game too long, we shared more than most people would think possible. I saw in his eyes that he understood my pain and could easily imagine where he would be if it had been Byers or Langly instead of Mulder. Hell, he was so close to Mulder himself, almost a father figure to my fatherless agent. Only then did I realize how much Fox's disappearance must have been tearing Frohike apart. He raised a gloved hand and stroked my cheek. "Let us take care of you tonight, Walter," he said quietly, and this time, I met his kiss halfway.

As we parted, I whimpered, "I. . .I. . I don't know," my voice so low and scratchy even I could barely hear it. "Everything's gone." I felt alone, lost, adrift. Nothing was going to be the same, ever. Part of me had been ripped away, never to return.

"Not everything," Byers affirmed, caressing my neck.

"We're still here," Frohike chimed in.

"And we care," Langly concluded, his fingers brushing through the fringe that was left of my hair.

Their kindness, their unwavering friendship, their caring, loving words, tore through the last of my defenses, and the tears I had been damming up would be denied no longer. I broke down and started sobbing in a way I never had before. For me and Mulder, and for my failure to keep him safe. For Scully and her unborn child, who would never know what a uniquely beautiful individual its father had been. For everything we had lost. For the complete hopelessness of it all.

Fuck me, I hated myself for being so weak.

Langly, God bless him, held me tight and just kept murmuring soothing words in my ear. "That's okay, Skinman. Let it out. Just get it all out of there. We're here for you." He let me cry myself hoarse until there were no more tears left, then continued to hold me, rocking me like an infant. I should have pushed him away--it was bad enough that he and the other Gunmen had witnessed my shameful breakdown, but to be cradled like that was so undignified. Still, I didn't push Langly away. It felt good to be held, to be. . . protected.

Against all logic, I sensed that I was drifting off to sleep. Langly must've sensed it as well because the next thing I knew, he had grabbed me by my arm and was trying to haul me up off the couch. "Hey guys, can I have a little help here?" With his plea, Byers stepped forward and the two of them got me standing--quite a feat after the amount of booze I had consumed--while Frohike wrapped the huge robe around my shoulders. They took a minute to slip my arms into it and tie the sash before the four of us stumbled towards Mulder's bathroom.

They were considerate enough to leave me on my own for a few minutes, so I concluded that Frohike hadn't hidden my gun in there. Taking care of my personal needs proved rather challenging (though quite necessary, I can assure you), but once that was done, the trio took control again. They half-carried/half-dragged me into Mulder's bedroom, and it wasn't long before they had me tucked into the king-sized waterbed that dominated the room. Where the hell Mulder had gotten a waterbed, we never learned. One day a couple of years ago, we came back to his place and there it was. We were pretty convinced it was a surprise gift from Scully--she certainly has enjoyed it--but she's maintained her innocence to this day. Frohike leaned down, removed my glasses, and carefully placed them on Mulder's cluttered nightstand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Langly getting undressed. He stripped down to his underwear, and slid into bed beside me. I couldn't imagine what he was thinking. If he was hoping for a repeat performance of our encounter a few years back, I knew he was in for a disappointment. Even if it wasn't for the alcohol, I just wasn't in the mood for some casual pity fuck. But once again, I had underestimated these men. Langly simply spooned up beside me, wrapped his arm around me, and held me close.

While all this was going on, Frohike pulled Byers off to the side to talk. He probably thought I was so out of it I couldn't hear them. He was wrong.

"You two take care of Skinner. I'll stand watch until morning."

"You sure, Mel?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Besides, I want to do some snooping around, see if there's anything that could be of use to us."

"Do you believe his story?" Byers asked, curiously.

"Well, it pretty much echoed what Scully was saying in his office last night," Frohike explained. "Perhaps these alien visitors were after Mulder all along. And now that they've got him. . ." It grew quiet for a moment between them as they absorbed the impact of Frohike's words before he continued, "Look, John, I know this isn't gonna resolve itself in just a day or two. I'm in this for the long haul. I can't ask you and Langly to join me in this. . ."

"Mulder is our friend, too," Byers cut in. "No matter how long it takes, we're in. You can count on us." And I almost cried at the sincere determination in his voice. I wasn't alone after all. And for the first time in over 24 hours, I had hope that Mulder would be found.

"I was hoping you were gonna say that," Frohike replied, a smile clearly heard in the tone.

"What do you want me to do while you're 'snooping'?" Byers asked.

"Just look after Skinner. He needs all the help he can get to make it through tonight." Ironically, he had just voiced my earlier thoughts. The scotch was supposed to do that for me; instead, I had been blessed with three friends who cared enough to pull me back from the brink.

I heard the unmistakable sound of a lingering wet kiss, then Byers whispering, "I love you, Mel."

"Back at ya', babe," came the affectionate reply. "Now, get some sleep. We're gonna have some rough seas ahead." Next thing I knew, Byers had also stripped down to his boxers and T-shirt, and was crawling into bed with us--next to me, across from Langly. He tenderly caressed Langly's cheek, earning a smile filled with happiness and love from the young man, before he wrapped his arms around me, my head cradled on his shoulder.

Gorgeous redhead on one side, lanky troublemaker on the other. If I tried real hard I could pretend they were my own lovers--'cept I'm pretty sure Scully's never had a beard. I fell into a fitful sleep, safely held in two sets of friendly arms.

The next morning, I woke up alone. I was momentarily disoriented until I realized I was sprawled across Mulder's waterbed. Then reality hit me like a speeding train, and I remembered WHY I was sprawled across Mulder's waterbed. I gave a call out to the guys, but the Gunmen were gone. Maybe I had just dreamed the whole thing--it certainly made more sense that way.

I gingerly got up and wandered into the bathroom, making sure to avoid the mirror over the sink--I already knew I looked like shit. Once nature had been taken care of, I grabbed a handful of Advil, then padded into the kitchen, hoping some coffee would bring me back to the world of the living. I found a freshly brewed pot sitting there, waiting for me; next to the machine sat my gun and a short note:

"Checking on a lead. We'll be in touch."

Apparently, I hadn't dreamt it after all.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, sat down at Mulder's kitchen table, and tried not to dwell on the hopelessness that was consuming my soul.

EPILOG:

The Gunmen stayed true to their word. Later that day, as Skinner pretended not to be nursing the massive hangover he still bore, his faithful PA, Kimberly, walked into his office and presented him with an envelope that had arrived for him. Except for his name and the word URGENT, there was no indication where the letter had come from. He thanked Kim, who gave him a sad little smile and a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before she headed back to her desk. Once he was alone, he opened the letter; a single index card slipped out, blank except for an address and a time.

But that was all Skinner needed.

At the appointed hour Skinner arrived at the arranged meeting place. There he found Langly, Byers, and Frohike, their equipment hot-wired into one of the many satellite dishes strewed over the landscape. They nodded to him in greeting, then went right into their spiel, presenting the information they had gathered and the satellite photos they had managed to pull down. With their cards out on the table, the quartet then swapped ideas on what it all might mean.

There was no talk of what had happened the night before. Not even a look or a glance that would tell the tale. Skinner knew the Gunmen would never say a word, that the secrets of that night had already been locked away, never to be revisited. Now there was just one concern for everyone involved--just one mission on everyone's collective mind:

Find Mulder, before it was too late.

THE END

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