Title: Profiles in Caring: The Everett Case 05/13
Author: Daydreamer
Author E-mail: Daydream59@aol.com
Rating: NC-17 for language, graphic violence, 
        and disturbing imagery 
Category: SAR, Profiler!Mulder 
Spoilers: none
Keywords:  M/Sc/Sk friendship, MSR - established
Archive: Yes, please.
Feedback: Yes!  Please! 

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner are owned by 
Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, Fox Television 
Network, etc.  They are wonderfully brought to life 
by David Duchovny, Gillian Anderson, and Mitch Pileggi. 
I will make no profit from this, and neither will Fox 
if they sue me, for I am poor and have nothing material 
they can profit from. 

Comments: Check out my web page, Daydreamer's Den
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dunes/2113 

Summary:  To find and rescue Skinner's nephew, Mulder
faces the hardest challenge of his career -- entering
the mind of a pedophile.


Profiles in Caring: The Everett Case 05/13

"What happened to him, Walter?"  Tom's words were spoken
in a quiet tone as he followed his wife and Mulder down 
the hall to the kitchen.  "He looks dead on his feet."

"He's tired, Tom.  And he got mugged today."  That was 
the cover story they had agreed on prior to coming over
to his sister-in-law's house.  

Mulder was seated at the table and Lynne was fussing 
with the coffeepot as Skinner joined his agent.  He
really didn't want Mulder drinking coffee now, because
the man needed to sleep tonight instead of staying up
all night again.  But he also didn't want to make 
a big deal about people needing sleep when he knew
Lynne and Tom probably hadn't slept more than a couple
of hours at a time since Tommy had been taken.

Skinner took off his glasses and rubbed his face, 
finally deciding on silence and a late start tomorrow.
He'd get Mulder to sleep, however late it was, and
the day would start when his agent woke up.

"Tell me about Tommy," Mulder said as he nodded his
thanks for the coffee placed before him.

Skinner accepted his cup with a quick, "Thanks, Lynne,"
then added, "Now, come sit with us."  He pulled out
a seat next to him and watched as Tom took the last
two cups from his wife's hands, seated her, then went 
back and brought the cups over.  He sat on the other 
side of his wife, which inadvertently left Mulder on 
the far side of the table -- alone.

"Did Tommy know Swinton?"

Tom jumped as if he'd been slapped and Lynne dropped
her head.  "Uh, yeah, sort of."  Tom lifted a hand
to rub his eyes.  "I mean, we didn't socialize, if
that's what you mean.  But, well, the guy was our 
neighbor.  We didn't have any way of knowing he ...
that he ..."

"Of course you didn't," Skinner soothed.  "It's not 
your fault."  He waited a minute for Tom to regain 
his composure, then asked, "How did Tommy know Swinton?"

"He didn't go over to his house or anything!"  The 
words were angry, full of hurt and remorse.  "I was
sitting on the front steps one day, a couple of weeks
after that bastard moved in, and he came over and
introduced himself.  I introduced Tommy."  Tom dropped
his head and a strangled groan escaped his throat.  
"I introduced our baby to that sick fuck!"

Lynne began to cry and Tom visibly pulled himself 
together, struggling for control as he turned to 
his wife.

Mulder took a swallow of coffee, watching closely as
Tom wrapped his arm around his wife and murmured into
her ear.  "Tommy?" he nudged.  "Tell me what he's
like."

"Like?"  Lynne sounded confused as she lifted her head
from her husband's shoulder.  There were tear streaks 
visible on her cheeks and her breathing was ragged.  
"What do you mean 'what he's like?'"

"What does he do?  What does he enjoy?  Sports?  Books?
TV?  Video games?  Is he quiet or rambunctious?  Always
in trouble or is he a low-maintenance kid?"

Tom smiled at Mulder's words.  "Low-maintenance.  That's
what I always said, and Lynne hated it.  But it's true.
We couldn't ask for a better kid."  Tom squeezed his
wife's shoulder as he spoke.  "I don't think that kid
has ever been in trouble a day in his life."

"He's quiet," Lynne added softly.  "He loves to read."
She glanced over at her husband, then said, "Tom worries
that he's not 'boy' enough, whatever that means."  She
pulled away from her husband, shaking off the arm he
had wrapped around her.

"Now, Lynne, that's not fair."  Tom turned and looked 
at Mulder then at Skinner.  "I just don't want him being
the class geek -- getting picked on and teased."  He
held his cup in both hands and stared into the inky liquid.

Mulder looked acutely uncomfortable, and Skinner could 
see that he wanted to say something comforting but didn't 
know what to say.  He knew that Mulder's childhood had 
been anything but idyllic, and wondered what old wounds
this conversation was opening for his friend. 

Had Mulder been a low-maintenance kid?  Class geek?  Did
he get teased a lot?  Somehow, he was sure Mulder had 
had more than his fair share of pain as a boy, even 
before his sister disappeared.  There was just something
about the man that radiated suffering.  

But now was not the time to delve into his complicated
friend's past.  They needed to focus on Tom and Lynne,
and finding their son.  He studied the two, no longer
sitting together, no longer touching, both staring at
Mulder as if he had the magic answers that would make
everything all right. 

"Every kid is different.  You both know that."  Skinner
forced himself to speak up, distracting Lynne and Tom
from Mulder.  "I bet you didn't know I was a reader as
a boy.  Always liked books better than other kids."
It wasn't exactly the truth.  But it seemed to serve the
purpose as both Tom and Lynne relaxed.  And when Tom 
reached for Lynne's hand, she didn't draw away.  

"So, er," Mulder cleared his throat.  "Tommy likes to read.
He's kinda quiet ..."

"He's smart," Tom interrupted.  "Incredibly smart.  He's 
in the gifted program at school."

Mulder nodded.  "Very smart.  A lot of smart kids are 
low-maintenance."  This was directed at Lynne.  "They
seem to be able to grasp the concept of unpleasant
consequences earlier than their peers, and they just
avoid bad situations."

"So why didn't he avoid this one?"  Tom rose in anger,
the wooden chair banging hard against the floor as he
knocked it backward.

"Tom!" Lynne gasped.  "It's not his fault!"

"No, it's not," Skinner said as he rose to stand behind
his brother-in-law.  "And it's not your fault, either."
He spoke softly and let one hand come out to rest on 
the other man's shoulder.  "You are not at fault here,
Tom.  You didn't fail your family.  You didn't fail
your son."  

The other man stood there for a long moment, his face
buried in both hands, struggling for control.  When it
seemed he wasn't going to move, Skinner motioned to 
Lynne, who had been frozen in place by her husband's
outburst, but she rose and moved to stand with him.
Slowly, she insinuated herself between Tom and the 
wall, and even more slowly, his arms came down and
wrapped around her.

Mulder was staring miserably into his coffee, refusing
to look up.  Skinner stepped away from his in-laws,
and went back to the table, this time resting his hand
on Mulder's shoulder.  "You want to look at Tommy's
room?" he asked quietly.

Mulder nodded.

"This is probably a good time."  

Mulder rose and they slipped out of the kitchen and
up the stairs.  Once inside, Mulder leaned against 
the wall, staring without seeing.  He shuddered and
buried his face in his own hands, then slipped downward
until he was sitting on the floor.

Skinner knelt quickly before him.  "What's wrong?"

" 's like looking at my mom and dad.  It was like that
all the time after Sam disappeared.  Sorrow, then anger,
then despair, then more anger.  It was this unending
cycle ..."  He shook himself, then looked up as if seeing
Skinner for the first time.  " 'm sorry, Sir," he began,
as he tried to scramble to his feet.  

Skinner held him in place.  "Hush.  You have nothing to
be sorry for."  Mulder was still struggling to get to
his feet, and Skinner tightened his grip, saying, "Just
sit for a minute, Mulder."

"I need to get started ..."  Mulder's face was flushed
with emotion, but which emotion, Skinner couldn't tell.
Scully would know.  He always felt so inadequate when he
had to deal with this gifted, talented, complicated man.
He was working in the dark, with no idea if he was doing
the right thing, or causing more damage.

"You need a few minutes."

"We don't have a few minutes!"  Mulder pushed hard against
Skinner but the older man didn't move.

"If it will make you feel better, Mulder, go ahead and
take a swing.  But you're not getting up yet."  Skinner
sighed as Mulder paled again, seeming to crumple within
himself.  "Look, Mulder, I'm not trying to discount how
critical things are -- but I am not going to let you
destroy yourself.  That scene downstairs, that brought
up some pretty powerful feelings for you.  Take a few
minutes and deal with them.  You want to tell me more?"

Mulder shook his head.  "Not really.  I mean, I was
a pretty low-maintenance kid, too.  Not quite as bookish
as Tommy, I don't think.  My dad was into sports, and 
I was always trying to impress him..."

Mulder had stopped struggling and Skinner moved to sit
beside him against the wall.  "It was hard on your whole 
family, when your sister disappeared."

Mulder nodded.  "It tears a family apart.  I was lucky
I was low-maintenance -- pretty self-sufficient.  I can't
remember my mom cooking after Sam was gone.  I, uh ..."
he flushed uncomfortably, and Skinner looked away.  "I
just sorta took care of things -- cooking, cleaning, the
yard."

"What did your folks do?"

"Oh, uh, it was hard on them.  Things were so confused.
Everybody was blaming everyone else."  

Mulder was staring at the floor.  He'd gone incredibly 
still, not a muscle moved, not a nerve twitched.  It was 
as if he were waiting for something, and Skinner hadn't 
a clue what it was.  He studied the man, a task made
easier because of Mulder's unnatural stillness.  

At length, Skinner reached out and touched Mulder,
shocked when the man flinched.  "Mulder?" he asked
quietly.

Mulder gave a shaky laugh.  "Sorry, Sir."

Skinner's hand still rested on his friend's arm.  "What
was that about?"

Mulder shrugged.  "Old memories."

"You do know that you were not responsible for your
sister's disappearance."  Skinner waited until the
younger man looked up.  "You do know that, right?"

Mulder nodded slowly.  "It didn't always seem that 
way."

There were footsteps on the stairs and Skinner scrambled
to his feet, reaching down to help Mulder up in deference
to the bruise on his side.  They made it up just as Tom 
and Lynne arrived.  Mulder was moving across the room to 
look at the window, and Skinner realized that he'd just 
lost a valuable opportunity to get a good look at his 
agent's past.  And who knew when it would come around 
again.  He made a note to discuss this with Scully.  
Maybe she could fill in the blanks.

"He, uh, that bastard Swinton, came in through the window,"
Tom said from the door.

Mulder nodded.  He spent a few more minutes looking around,
then nodded at Skinner, indicating he was ready to go.

"Lynne, Tom, we're going to take off now."  Skinner moved
to the door, forcing the couple to back up, and then
followed them down the stairs.  

"That's it?" Lynne asked.  "I thought you were going to
go through everything again."

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't want to put you through
that again.  I just wanted to see what Tommy is like."
He was very careful to use the present tense -- 'what
Tommy *is* like,' not 'what Tommy *was* like.'  He
smiled and reached out to gently touch Lynne's arm.
"He's a wonderful boy.  You both have a lot to be proud
of."

"Please find him for us!"  Lynne threw herself at Mulder,
begging.  "Please!  We'll do anything, pay anything.  Just
bring him home!"

Mulder had tensed at the woman's assault, but he brought 
his hand up to stroke her back once, then he gently 
passed her to her husband.  "I'm doing everything I can.
We have some new information, and I'm hopeful that it 
will be very useful."  

Skinner touched Mulder, gently pushing him toward the
front door.  "Tom, Lynne, we're leaving, but I'll be in
touch.  I'll let you know the minute we know something."
He reached out again, touching first his sister-in-law,
then his brother-in-law.  "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

And then he turned and followed Mulder out.

Mulder was waiting on the front steps, just outside the
door, and Skinner almost tripped over him.  When the
AD stopped, Mulder stood and the two men walked quickly
to the car.  "What was that about new information, 
Mulder?"

"The window.  It was done from the inside."

"That's not what forensics said."

"Then they were lazy, or sloppy.  I'm telling you,
the window was done from the inside."

"You know how it happened?"

Mulder nodded.  "Did you notice that the door to the
master bedroom was closed?"

Skinner shrugged.  He hadn't noticed.

"Did you see the hide-a-key in the shrubbery?"

Skinner shook his head.  "No ..."

"Here's what I think happened ...  Swinton waits
til everyone is asleep.  Then he uses the hide-a-key
to go in, goes up to the boy's room.  He tells the
kid something happened to Mom.  She's sick or something,
and Dad took her to the hospital.  Tommy is supposed
to go with the neighbor."  Mulder shrugged.  "So he 
goes."

"You think he'd fall for something like that?"

"Why not?  I mean, the bedroom door is always closed,
so he doesn't see that his parents are sleeping, and
the guy is a neighbor, someone his dad introduced
him to.  And the guy is in the house.  Kid's sleepy,
not processing real well.  Probably worried about
Mom.  Of course he's going to go with the one adult
around who promises he can answer all the questions."

"What about the other kids?"

Mulder shrugged.  "Can't be sure.  But probably something
similar."  He tugged at the seat belt, having to open the
door to free it, and then buckled himself in.  "I'm
willing to bet all the boys were quiet, bookish, low-
maintenance kids.  The kind who obey adults and have a
good sense for when it's okay to question and when it's
best to just do as you're told."

Skinner thought it through for a minute.  "I fucking
hate this."

"Me, too."

"Is there any way to keep a kid safe nowadays?"

Mulder shook his head.  "Nobody's safe.  Ever."

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

His cell phone rang loud in the quiet car.

"Skinner."  

He was quiet for a long time, listening, and Mulder
watched him curiously.  At length, he pulled over to
the side of the road, stopped and squinted up at
the street signs.  "Corner of Jamboree and Irvine."

He listened a minute longer, then said, "We'll be
waiting.  And you'll have someone escort Agent Scully
to the scene?"  Skinner nodded.  "Thanks."

He closed the phone and looked at Mulder.

"There's been another one, hasn't there, Sir?"

Skinner nodded.

"Abduction, or murder?"

"The boy is dead."

"Where?"

"Some old warehouse in LA.  Tustin is sending a car
to escort us.  They'll be here shortly."

"And Scully?"

"She'll meet us there.  LAPD is picking her up and 
taking her to the warehouse."

Flashing lights pulled up beside them and Skinner lifted
his badge to the officer. 

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Skinner," the man said, "if you'll just
follow me, I'll get you to the scene as quickly as 
possible."

"How far a drive is it?" Mulder asked quietly, and
Skinner repeated the question to the officer.

"About 45 minutes, normally, but we're to go with
lights and sirens so that will shave some time."

Skinner nodded.  "Let's go."  He put his hazard lights
on and pulled out behind the squad car, punching the
accelerator to keep up.  He glanced over at his agent, 
slumped in his seat, one hand wrapped around his middle.  
"You okay, Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged.  "Hurts a little, I guess."

"Tylenol.  Glovebox," Skinner said shortly.  When Mulder
didn't move, he added, "Now."

Mulder shook himself, sat up in the seat, and opened the
glovebox as directed.  He pulled out the bottle Skinner
had stashed there earlier, opened it and shook out three
of the small red and yellow capsules.  He closed the
bottle and replaced it, then looked around in confusion.

"Water bottle is still in my pocket," Skinner said, pulling
it out and passing it to his agent.  

Mulder swallowed obediently, capped the bottle and leaned
back, closing his eyes.  "Thanks, uh, Walter."

"You're welcome."

Mulder opened his eyes to look at Skinner.  "No.  I mean
it.  Thank you, Walter."  He waited until Skinner met
his gaze then added, "I mean, you think about things
like this.  I, uh, appreciate it."  He turned his head
and stared out the window.  "I feel lucky."

Skinner suppressed a snort as he looked at the battered,
bruised and exhausted man next to him.  "How so?" he 
asked quietly.  

"Got two people who care about me."  Mulder leaned against 
the window.  " 'm gonna sleep now," he said, and Skinner
let him get away without talking about it anymore.

End part 05/13

Profiles in Caring: The Everett Case 06/13

"Mulder!"  Scully hurried across the bare concrete
floor to take her partner's arm.  "Are you all right?"

He smiled, then winced as the movement pulled his
split lip.  " 'm okay, Scully."  He looked around at the
local cops, the representatives from the Inspection 
Service, one of whom was a decidedly dark shade of
green, and all the crime scene people who were racing
around doing what crime scene people did best --
chasing everyone else out.

He turned and looked at Skinner.  "I need a few minutes
in here alone.  Can you arrange that?"

"Not alone," Scully said firmly, her hand still holding
his arm.

"Well," Mulder amended, "I need a few minutes in here 
with only my pathologist."

Skinner smiled and nodded and began to clear the area.
It took a few minutes and Mulder watched as Skinner had
to pull rank several times, but eventually, the space
was clear and he was free to observe the scene.

Three walls had been set up to mimic a room and the boy
lay within their confines on a bare mattress.  He was
face down, his knees on the concrete floor and his
upper body across the dirty mattress.  Lights hung from 
the walls, and a tripod for a video camera stood at the 
end of the bed, though the camera was nowhere to be found.

The boy was nude.  Blood streaked his back and buttocks.
Welts and broken skin were visible beneath the blood and
his arms were extended across the bed, secured by cords
tied to his wrists.  He had black hair and dark skin --
he looked Hispanic.  There was a man's tie wrapped tight
around the boy's neck -- the apparent cause of death, 
though Mulder suspected it had been neither swift nor
painless.

"We'll have to amend the victim profile to include
darker-skinned boys now, Scully," Mulder said forlornly.
"I knew it was too much too hope for that these people
would stick to one type."

"We'll have to check for other bodies then, too, Mulder"
she responded.  

Mulder nodded as he continued to study the boy.  He was 
bigger than Mulder would have expected, probably 5'1" 
or 5'2" and closer examination revealed the first
tufts of hair under the child's arms.  He reached out
and carefully pulled the boy's legs apart, noting the
fine lined scars on the inside of his thighs as well 
as his genitals.  "Oh," he said thoughtfully, "he'd
gotten too old."

"What?"  Scully asked.  She had been trying to wait 
patiently as Mulder made his observations, but it was
hard.  Her partner was obviously in pain, and not
just from the beating he had taken.  Everything about
this case was hurting him, and she felt powerless
to help.

"Pubic hair."  Mulder made the statement then walked 
away.

Scully moved quickly to intercept him.  "Explain, 
Mulder."  She stopped his forward movement, then tookay
his hand and led him around behind the hastily set 
up false walls, drawing him down to sit beside her.

"The boy had gotten too old.  He had hair under his 
arms and pubic hair.  They didn't want him anymore."

Scully nodded.  "So they killed him?"

"Probably not on purpose.  They could have passed
him on to someone who liked teenagers, but I think
this boy had been with them a long time.  He was
damaged."

"Of course he was damaged!"  Scully closed her eyes
for a moment, then said, "He'd been whipped till he
bled and sodomized."

Mulder shook his head.  "Not that.  They wouldn't
consider that damage.  That's just part of the scene --
part of the excitement."  Mulder shuddered violently,
and Scully moved closer to him, nudging him until he
lifted an arm and wrapped it around her.  "He had
scars on the inside of his thighs.  I think they were
self-inflicted."

"Cutting for control?"

"Exactly.  I think he had so much pain in his life,
that this was the only thing he could control.  If 
he hurt himself, he was in control."  Mulder shook 
his head sadly.  "Unfortunately, it signed his death
warrant."

"How do we find them, Mulder?  The ones who did this
to this boy?"  She snuggled in closer, her arms wrapped
around her lover, careful of his bruised and tender 
side.  He was cold again, and she could feel his breathing
grow ragged.  

"They filmed this.  A special performance for someone 
with very specific tastes."  He rose suddenly and moved
quickly to the bed.  "I need a glove, Scully," he demanded,
hand outstretched.  He slipped it on quickly, his eyes 
never leaving the boy on the bed.  "It was someone 
rich -- someone who can afford to indulge his desires."  
He grabbed the tie around the boy's neck, and stared down 
at the elegant little label, hand-sewn onto the delicate 
silk.  "Someone who can afford hand-made silk ties from 
Andre's."

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

Mulder was lying on the bed again, skipping through the
channels with one arm thrown over his eyes.

"I'm going for Chinese," Skinner said quietly.  "When
should I come back?"

Scully looked at her watch.  "It's 8:15 now.  I want 
to change before I go back to the morgue and start on
the boy from the warehouse."  She glanced back at her 
partner.  "He wants to come with me.  Says he doesn't 
want me going alone."  She smiled as she uttered the 
words.

"Does he just not want to be alone?"  Skinner still
wasn't always sure how to read Mulderspeak.

"Probably."  She smiled again.  "And besides, he doesn't
need to be present at the autopsy, not the way his 
stomach's been acting."  She looked up at Skinner.  "I
really want him to sleep tonight."

"He's going to fight you."

"I'm going to insist."  She sighed softly.  "He didn't
sleep at all last night and he's been going full tilt
all day, plus the assault.  He needs to rest."

"You can't make him sleep."  Skinner sympathized, but there
really was a limit to what they could do.  

"No, I can't.  But I'm tired, too."  She set her lips in 
firm resolution.  "And I'm going to be even more tired
when I get back from this autopsy at midnight."  She
looked over at her partner.  "He can just damn well lie
down with me and sleep."

"What was that?" Mulder called from the bed.

"I said, when I get back, we are both going to sleep."

Mulder sat up, looking almost panicked.  "I, uh, don't
think I can sleep, Scully.  There's still so much to
do."

She moved across the room to sit on the bed with him.
"I understand, Mulder.  But you can lie down with me while
I sleep, so I won't be alone, right?"

He nodded at once, and enfolded her in a hug.  "I can
do that."

She pulled away reluctantly and nodded at Skinner.  
"Walter is going for Chinese.  What do you want?"

Mulder waved dismissively.  "Some kind of soup.  Chicken
rice, chicken noodle.  Something like that."

"You can't eat anything more substantial?" Scully asked
quietly.

He shook his head.

"All right," she sighed.  She looked up at Skinner.  "Got
that?"

"Yeah," Skinner answered.  "I'll just get a bunch of 
stuff and we can all pick."  He looked at his watch 
again.  "I'll be back in an hour?"  It was a question,
and Scully answered it as such.

"An hour will be fine, Walter.  And -- thank you."

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

They were in the shower.  He had flat out refused to 
take a third shower that day, but then caved when she
said she would join him.  Or he would join her.

The warm water beat down on his head, sluicing down
his back as she worked her hands across the tense
muscles of his shoulders.  Hands slippery with soap,
she worked on smoothing out the kinks in his arms,
his back, his neck.  He stood in the classic pose of
'assume the position,' arms lifted, hands against the
wall, leaning forward with his legs spread.  

She washed his back carefully, letting her hands linger,
strokaying his arms and delighting in the feel of strong 
muscles just below the soft skin.  It was part of her
joy in touching him, to be constantly reminded of both
his strength and his vulnerability, the hard and the
soft.  

Her arms wrapped around his chest and she carefully
bathed the vivid bruise, then let her hands wander 
upward to pluck at his tiny nipples.  He sighed softly, 
dropping his head, but when her hands worked their way
down to his genitals, he was flaccid.

"Uhm, 'm sorry, Scully," he whispered, and she turned
him to face her, silencing him with a soft kiss.

"It's all right, Mulder.  I don't think either of us
is up for that right now."

"Can't stop seeing what those boys went through," he
mumbled, standing unmoving as she finished washing him
and then turned off the shower.  

"Shhhh," she soothed.  "Don't.  Try and let it go, just
for a little while."

He nodded, then swooped up a towel and enfolded her in
it.  He knelt slowly, still stiff and sore, and began to 
dry her.  His touch was soft but sure, and he strokayed her 
almost lazily, large hands kneading her calves, her 
thighs, her buttocks.  There was a sensuality to his 
touch that somehow avoided sexuality -- it was vaguely 
arousing, but mostly comforting, and she hoped it 
comforted him as well as her.

Once dried, she led him to the bed and watched as he
dressed in the sweats she put out for him.  She dressed 
casually as well, in jeans and a sweater, rightfully 
assuming that the corpse she would be working on would
not mind that she didn't wear her suit to work.

She was pleased to see that Mulder lay down again
while she went to do her hair.  She had been afraid
he would start rereading the files that sat on the 
table by the window.  But he was apparently trying
to follow her injunction that he let it go, just
for a little while.  

Her hair dry, she went and joined Mulder on the bed,
curling up against his good side, her head pillowed
in the hollow of his shoulder.  His eyes were closed,
and he had one arm thrown over them.  He cradled her
against him with his other arm, the hand making 
lazy circles on her shoulder and playing with her
hair.  

"This is stirring up a lot of memories, Scully,"
he murmured to her.

She swallowed hard.  "So Skinner said.  Reminds you
of when Sam disappeared?"

He nodded and she could feel the rough stubble of 
his evening beard scrape against her scalp.  It was 
oddly comforting, a reminder of the many nights they'd
lain together, content to hold and be held.  She sighed
quietly, thinking that while their sex life was good
and satisfying, their work life all too often put
them in situations where neither felt like partaking
of that particular fruit.  And how fortunate they
were, that their relationship was based on so many
more elements than just sex.  Now, for example, 
they were able to lie quietly with one another 
and draw strength from that sharing.

"Walter said you flinched when he touched you."
She waited a moment for a reaction, then went on.
"He thought that you thought he was going to hit 
you."  When Mulder still didn't answer, she added, 
"You were talking about your dad."

Mulder gave a deep sigh and removed his arm from
his eyes, bringing it across his chest to encircle
Scully.  "My dad was angry -- a lot."

"He hit you?"  Scully kept her voice quiet, and tried
to keep her body relaxed.

Mulder shook his head.  "I can't talk about this now,
Scully," he groaned.  "Please don't ask me."

"It's all right," she whispered.  "I'm just worried 
about you."

"I know," he said, his head dipping down so his lips
brushed her ear as he spoke.  "But I'm going to be
okay."  He smiled; she could feel the movement where
his lips rested on her neck as he pressed a tender 
kiss there.  "Didja know Walter had Tylenol in the
car for me?"

"He cares about you, Mulder."  She brought her hand 
over to gently rub his chest, carefully avoiding the
bruised area.  

"I know, I know."  Mulder paused, pulling himself up 
to lean on his elbow and looking down into her face.
"I just have trouble remembering that.  It seems ..."

"Right," she finished for him.  "He's your friend, so
it's right that he cares."  She looked up into his
beautiful gray-green eyes, eyes swirling with emotion,
and pulled him down to her.  His lips met hers, and
if the intensity of the kiss was dampened by her
desire not to hurt his already damaged lips, the 
intensity of the emotion behind it only flared higher
for her care and concern.

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

It was nearly midnight.  He hadn't thought it possible,
but Mulder had actually given in and fallen asleep.
Skinner stretched in the chair, then rose and paced 
to the far side of the room.  Scully should be back 
any time, and to be honest, he would be happy to 
give up Mulderwatch and get some sleep of his own.
Not that he begrudged the exhausted man his rest, 
but truth be told, he wasn't all that young anymore, 
and he could use a little rest himself.

He walked to the sink and splashed some water on 
his face.  He didn't want Scully to come back and
find him sleeping on the job.  It wasn't long before
he realized he was scrubbing at his face and hands,
as if mere soap and water could ever take away the
stain that this case had marked on his soul.  He'd
read what had been done to those boys, viewed a couple
of the videos, and there was a filth in his mind now
that would never go away.  Skinner had stopped reading,
long before the file was done, and still he felt
soiled, tainted.  How much worse it must be for Mulder,
who'd read everything, most of it more than once.  If
Skinner worried that it would never leave his mind, how
much more so that must be true for Mulder of the eidetic
memory.

He shook his head, turned off the water and patted his
face and hands dry with the clean white towel.  He was
putting his glasses back on when he heard it.

"No..."

The word was whimpered, and Mulder twitched in his 
sleep.

"Mulder?" he called softly.

"Noooo ..."

This time the cry was drawn out, still soft, but a 
long, plaintive protest that seemed to echo in the
room.

Skinner reached out to the man, but drew back when 
Mulder cried, "Don't touch me there!"  This outburst 
was accompanied by a violent roll and then Mulder 
began to thrash about and fight with the covers on 
the bed.  He was crying, huge, gulping sobs, and the 
panic on his face was evident as Skinner struggled 
to free him from the confines of the linens without 
touching him.

He had never been so happy to see a door open in all
his life as he was when Scully slipped in.  "What's
going on here, Walter?" she asked as she raced to the
bed.

"Damned if I know."  He was busy trying to unwind a sheet
from around Mulder's foot without touching him and 
without getting kicked.  Scully reached out, but Skinner 
stopped her.  "He was crying out about not being touched."

She drew back, nodding. 

"Does he do this often?"

"Nightmares?"  Scully grabbed the bedspread and pulled.
Skinner had most of it untangled and her yank pulled it
free.  "Yes.  He has nightmares."  She studied Mulder
who had settled now that he wasn't confined, but was 
still crying in his sleep.  "But he's never said he
didn't want to be touched."

Skinner eyed the man on the bed, then watched as Scully
spoke quietly to him and slowly slipped onto the bed
beside him.  

"Scully?" Mulder whispered, still mostly asleep.

"Shhh," she answered, "it's all right.  It's me."

He was on his side, and she inched over to him, carefully 
spooning herself behind him.  At her touch, he relaxed 
and the crying slowed and then stopped.  Under her touch,
he stilled and fell back into a deep sleep.  All the while, 
she crooned to him, soft, low nonsense sounds aimed at 
comfort and soothing.  

"You all right here, Scully?" Skinner asked at last.

"We'll be fine, Walter."  She looked up at the big man.
"Thanks for looking out for him for me."

Skinner nodded.  "Try and get some sleep.  We'll meet
in the morning and discuss your report."

She nodded again.  "Good night, Walter.  You get some
sleep, too, okay?"

Skinner picked up the blanket and draped it over his 
two agents, then slipped out of the room.  Scully's
comfort sounds had begun again, and they followed him
out, vaguely soothing to his own troubled soul.

End part 06/13

Profiles in Caring: The Everett Case 07/13

There was that sound again.  He groaned as he rolled 
over, one hand groping the empty bed beside him.  What 
the hell was that noise?  It came to him in a shock of
adrenaline as he popped up in bed, fumbled for his
glasses, and dragged the cell phone off the night table
and up to his ear.

"Skinner," he grunted, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Oh, fuck!"  He threw back the sheet and rose, padding
quickly to the bathroom.  "Have someone pick us up in
front of the hotel.  We'll be down in ten."

He stepped to the doorway between the rooms, offered
up a quick prayer that his sudden appearance wasn't 
going to result in anyone being embarrassed, knocked
once and walked through.  Mulder was peering blearily
at him, and Scully had rolled over to look up at his
unexpected entry.  "Ten minutes, agents," he said in
his best AD voice.  "Swinton was trying to get another
kid and the father woke up.  He's still got the kid, 
but every cop in the state is on his tail, and we're
going to join them."

Mulder was out of bed before he finished the first 
sentence, and he backed out quickly so that Scully
could rise as well.

He was at the elevator in eight minutes, and wasn't
surprised to see Mulder and Scully coming up behind 
him.  They, like him, had dressed for the day.  Mulder
had on a charcoal gray suit with a white shirt, and 
Scully had on a gray suit, with a pale blue blouse.
He looked down at his own gray suit, and wondered if
there was some subliminal transfer that went on at
Quantico.  It was all gray and navy.  Why didn't anyone
ever wear a brown suit?

There was an unmarked car waiting for them in front 
of the hotel, and the night clerk looked very pointedly
at the clock -- 3:38 am -- as they all walked out in
their business suits, carrying attaches and laptops.
It would almost be comical if the current events weren't
so dire.

"What's the situation?" Skinner asked as he climbed
into the front seat beside the detective who'd drawn
driver duty for the out-of-towners.

"He wrecked the car.  Hit a light pole.  He's holed
up with the kid in an abandoned tenement on the 
outskirts of town with about 100 cops and so on 
surrounding him.

Mulder leaned forward.  "Don't let them get near him,
Sir.  He'll kill the boy if he feels threatened.  He'll
kill himself.  I've got to talk to him."

Skinner nodded and said to the detective, "Who's in
charge at the scene?"  

The man flushed uncomfortably.  "That would be Inspector
Matthews, Sir."

Shit!  Skinner removed his glasses and pinched the bridge
of his nose.  Nothing to do but deal with it.  "Get him
on the radio for me," he ordered.

It didn't take long until Matthews was on the radio, 
obviously furious at having what he saw as his command
thwarted once again.  Skinner gave the order not to
approach, but he wondered seriously if the man would
follow it.

"Who else is there?" Skinner asked, looking at the
LAPD detective next to him.  

"My captain," the man responded.  "Want me to get 
him on the horn?"  He smiled as he spoke and Skinner
couldn't tell if it was because he was pleased to 
think LAPD would take over from the Inspectors, or
if it was because he, too, thought Matthews was an
asshole.

Skinner spoke to Captain Beltran, and then leaned
back, waiting to arrive.  There was nothing else he
could do.

They pulled up a block away and jumped out, Mulder
racing ahead to reach the scene.  "I need to talk
to him," he called back over his shoulder to Skinner
as he pushed his way through to the front to look at
the building.  

It was a four-story apartment building, very old, with
bricks missing from its facade, boarded up casements, 
and gaping holes where windows used to be.  The streetlight
on the corner was dark and the full moon cast the only
light on the area.  Fortunately the sky was clear and 
the moon bright, so there was some visibility.

Matthews strutted up, walking past Mulder and ignoring
his questions, to stand before Skinner.  He pointed to
a couple of men setting up high wattage lights on either
side of the cordoned off area.  "We'll chase the bastard
out as soon as we shed a little light on the subject,"
he said, obviously impressed with his own witticism.

"No, Sir," Mulder interjected.  "No lights.  You've got 
to let him stay in control."

"Fuck that!" Matthews spit on the ground.  "Only one 
in control around here is me."  His eyes cut to Skinner
and he quickly amended, "Us.  The good guys.  Ya know ..."

Skinner ignored him.  "All right, Mulder.  No lights.
What else do you need?"

"I've got to have a way to talk to him."

Skinner looked at Matthews.  "Bullhorn?"

The man stared back angrily, then nodded.  He gestured
with his head.  "Over there.  And I'm outta here."  He
glared at Mulder, taking in the battered face and the
tension in his body.  "Shame whoever got you didn't put
you out completely.  Fucking burnout."  He turned on
his heels and stormed off.

"Delightful man," Mulder observed casually to Scully as
Skinner loped off to grab the bullhorn.

"What are you going to do?" he asked as he passed it to
Mulder.

"Open a dialogue."

"Swinton," he called through the bullhorn.  "You're in
control here."  

He waited to see if there was an answer but it was silent.
Mulder looked over at Scully.  "What's the boy's name?"

"Robby Hayes," she answered.

"Swinton, nobody wants Robby to get hurt.  And we know 
you control that.  It's your show.  You're in control
and we work this however you want."

Mulder paused again.  

"Get rid of the cops."  The voice came from a second story
window, one without glass or board.

"Do you have a phone?" Mulder asked, ignoring the man's
order as if he hadn't heard it.  "You need to be able to
communicate with us -- to tell us what you want."

"Get rid of the cops!"  The voice was louder this time, 
but Mulder still ignored it.

"Tell you what, Swinton, I'm going to give you my cell
phone number.  You just call me so that I can hear you,
and we'll work this out." 

"I said, GET RID OF THE COPS!"  The man was screaming 
now, but still Mulder ignored him.

He rattled off his cell phone number, then settled against 
the hood of a car to wait.  It was a short wait.
Mulder's phone rang and he flipped it open.  "Swinton?"
He nodded at Scully.  "My name is Mulder."

"Get rid of the cops."

Mulder shook his head.  "I'm sorry, I can't."

"I thought you said I was in control."

"Well, I did," Mulder replied, "but only as far as they
will let you be.  You understand that, don't you, Swinton?
I mean, you've got people you report to, I've got 
people I report to.  We're both just soldiers, following
orders, right?"

"I don't want to hurt the boy."

"No, I understand that.  I don't want Robby to get hurt
either."

He looked up to see Scully nodding at him.  "That's good,
Mulder.  Keep using the boy's name.  Don't let Swinton
depersonalize him."

"Why Robby?" Mulder asked.  "Why did they want Robby?"

"Wasn't my idea," Swinton whined.  "I don't like to 
hurt the boys."

"No, of course not," Mulder soothed.  "You're not like
the others."

"Damn straight!"  Swinton spoke with feeling.  "I *love*
my boys.  I'm not into that sick shit, like Dalton and 
Everett."

Skinner was on another phone and he quickly passed along
the new names.

"You're not like the others, Swinton.  I knew that.  I 
could tell from your house."  Mulder swallowed hard.  He
lifted one hand and wiped his face.  "You loved the boys
you touched.  Not like the others."

"I made it good for them.  I showed them how good it 
could be."

Mulder closed his eyes and stepped away from Scully
and Skinner, holding up one hand to keep them from 
coming too close.  "I understand.  You wanted it to 
be good for them.  You were going to show Robby how
it could be good, too, weren't you?"

Mulder winced and he strangled a moan that tried to 
escape, holding his hand over the phone as he struggled
to keep breathing evenly.  He could hear the boy cry,
could see in his mind's eye as the man caressed the 
child and the child drew back in terror.  He had to 
see things the way Swinton did, understand what drove 
the man, in order to get him to give up the boy.

"I don't want all these cops around.  Makes me nervous."

"It's not my call.  I just do what I'm told, just like
you."  Mulder waited a minute.  "Who told you to get
Robby?"

"Everett."  Swinton sounded distracted, and Mulder
could hear the boy crying harder in the background.

"Bob?  May I call you Bob?"

"Oh, uh, yeah."  

Mulder had the man's attention again now, and the
boy's crying softened.

"Well, Bob, we've got to figure out a way to get
you and Robby out of there, without anyone getting 
hurt."

"What if I just let the boy go?  Will you let me go
then?"

Mulder nodded.  "I think that can be arranged.  I 
mean, you were just doing what you were told, right?"

"Yeah."  There was fear in Swinton's voice as if he
was really beginning to understand that he was in
a lot of trouble, and just maybe, the man on the other
end of the phone could make it better.

"So, why don't you let Robby go now?  Just send him
down the stairs and when he comes out, we'll talk 
about getting you out of here."

"Can't you get rid of the cops?" Swinton whined again.

"Sorry, man, I would if I could."  Mulder tried to keep
his voice relaxed.  He wanted the man to know it was
totally out of his hands.  "But once Robby is out, my
boss here says we can talk about it."

"You said I was in control."  Anger and resentment from
Swinton now, as the reality of his situation began to
truly sink in.

"You are, Bob, you are.  But you know, and I know, we 
can only be in control as long as they let us, right?"
Mulder paused, still holding Scully and Skinner away.
"You're in control with the boys, right?"

"Totally.  My show, my way.  I don't hurt 'em -- I love
the little guys."

"Right."  Mulder paused, considering.  "You love 'em. 
But you still have to give 'em up, right?  You pass
'em along to Dalton and Everett, even if you love 'em?"

"That's the deal, man."

"Well, here's the deal tonight, Bob.  You pass Robby
along to me, and then we can see about getting you a free
pass out of here."

"You want the kid?"  Swinton sounded surprised.  "What
are you going to do with the kid with all those cops
around?"

Mulder took a deep breath, struggling for control of
his stomach.  "Same thing you do, Bob.  I'm gonna love
him."  The phone dropped from his suddenly numb hands
only to be caught by Skinner before it could hit the
ground.

"You're doing fine, Mulder."  Scully was there, her
hand on his arm and he jumped from her touch, stepping
away.  

"Don't touch me, Scully.  Not now."  He was fighting
panic and nausea.

"You've got to keep talking, Mulder," Skinner said
urgently, holding out the phone.  "He's ready to let
the boy go."

"I KNOW, I know ... I'm trying.  Give me just a minute."
Mulder ran his hand through his hair and stalked away.
"I just need a minute."

"You don't have a minute, Mulder."  Skinner was pushing
the phone at him.  "I'm sorry -- I'm sorry.  I'd give it
to you if I could, but you've got to talk to him.  He's
calling for you."

Mulder shuddered, then nodded and took the phone.
His whole demeanor changed and the panicked, pained man
of a few seconds ago was replaced by the cool and collected
FBI agent.  "Sorry, Bob, that was my boss.  We're ready
for you to send Robby out."

"What the fuck???"  

Mulder heard the exclamation through the phone and then
the boy screamed and there were two gunshots and the 
sound of a heavy body hitting the floor.

"Bob?  Bob?  Swinton?"  Mulder was screaming into the
phone, and then he grabbed the bullhorn and screamed 
again, "What's going on, Bob?"

Swinton appeared briefly at the window, and then 
a police badge holder was thrown at them.  "Fuck all
of you!  If I'm not getting out of here, neither is
the boy!"

Mulder watched in horror as Swinton disappeared again,
and then he took off, racing across the cleared area
in front of the building and disappearing into the front
door.

"Jesus H. Christ," Skinner swore, looking around.  "Did 
he at least take the fucking phone?"

Scully turned haunted eyes his way as she held up the
abandoned phone.

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

Mulder stood outside the door.  "Swinton?  Bob?  It's
me, Mulder."

"Go away or I'll kill the boy."

"What happened, Bob?"

"As if you didn't know."

"I don't know.  Remember?  I just follow orders, like 
you."

"Well, someone ordered a cop to try and kill me."

Mulder dropped his head.  So that was what had happened.
Someone had tried to get the drop on Swinton while he
was talking to him.  Time to try another tack.  "Hey,
Bob?  I, uh, didn't exactly follow orders when I came
in here, ya know?"  He waited, but the other man didn't
respond.  "Like you?  You didn't follow orders all 
the way either.  You took the boys, but you loved them
first.  Everett doesn't know that, does he?"

"Didn't matter.  I just didn't want their first time 
to be bad.  I loved them."

"I know."  Mulder grimaced as he forced the next words
out.  "I love them too.  I can still get you out of
this.  You just have to let me in."

"You want the boy?  Is that what this is about?"

"Yeah," Mulder answered smoothly, "I want the boy."

"With all the cops around?  How good do you think you
can make it for him?"

"Good," Mulder said.  "And it doesn't have to be here.
I'm a cop, too.  I can spend time with Robby."

"You'll get in trouble.  He'll say you hurt him."

"He's just a kid.  Who's going to believe him against
a cop?"  Mulder waited a moment, then said, "I'm coming
in."

"Push your gun through the door first."

Mulder dropped the clip from his gun, then obeyed, 
kicking his weapon in with his foot and pulling his 
spare from the ankle holster and slipping it into his 
pants.  He positioned the weapon in his crotch, 
thinking it could serve two purposes.  It would 
provide protection, and in case Swinton checked, it 
might pass as an erection so the man would think he was
stimulated by the thought of having the boy.

"I'm coming in now."

"You can really get me out?"

"Yeah.  I can.  That other guy, the one you shot?  He
was acting on his own.  My boss, he listens to me.  If
I say let you go, he'll let you go."

Swinton was silent for a minute, then he said, "All 
right.  You can come in."

Mulder took a deep breath, then came around the corner
and stopped in the doorway, both hands raised above
his head.  Swinton was pointing a gun at him, and he
moved forward and quickly patted Mulder down.  "Come
on in."

Mulder pointed at the man laying face down on  the 
floor.  "I need to check him."

Swinton nodded and Mulder knelt by the man.  The man
moved, coughing.  "Where you hit?" Mulder asked quietly
as Swinton moved back to stand beside Robby.  His hand
reached out and stroked the boy's hair, and Mulder 
could see the boy's eyes fill with tears again, but
he did not move.  There was a large bruise on the 
boy's face -- a handprint clearly visible.

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"You want to tell me where you're hurt, or you want
me to roll you and take a look?"

"Fuck off!"

"Quiet, asshole.  There's a kid present."  Mulder
rolled the man, already sure of who it would be.    
"God damn it, Matthews!  Don't you ever learn?"

"Leave me the fuck alone."

"Yadda, yadda, yadda."  Mulder kept one eye on Swinton,
trying to think of an intervention if the man's hand
moved below the boy's head.  He looked back at the man
on the floor, taking inventory.  "Leg.  Not too bad.  
Looks like it grazed you.  Chest."  He leaned closer,
hearing the bubbles as the man breathed.  "That one's 
bad."  He leaned over and whispered in the man's ear,  
"Hang in there.  I'm gonna get you out."

"You and what army?" the injured man breathed, as Mulder
patted his shoulder gently.

"You shouldn't have come in," he said in a louder tone
for Swinton's benefit.  "You weren't following orders.

"Fuck orders," the man swore.  "You weren't doing anything
but getting your rocks off talking to the perv."

"Let me see the boy," Mulder said.  When Swinton hesitated,
Mulder added, "That was the deal.  I get the boy, you get
out."

"Fuck that," the man on the floor moaned.  "You ain't
never gettin' out, you fucking pervert."

Mulder toed the man on his uninjured leg, trying to 
make the motion look more brutal than it was.  "You
should shut up, if you want to live."

He looked at Swinton, the man's hand still fondling
the boy.  "Give me the boy.  Once I have the boy, I'll
tell my boss and he'll arrange to get you out."

"Why don't you come and get him," Swinton teased.  
"I like to watch, too."

Mulder swallowed, then walked over to the man and
the boy, and reached down.  The child shrunk from his
touch.  "C'mon, Robby," he said softly, "I'm not going
to hurt you."

Swinton had the gun on Mulder and the boy.  He licked
his lips.  "Show him what you mean, Mulder."

Mulder touched the boy's hair, then leaned over and
whispered to him, "I'm a cop, Robby.  I'm not going
to hurt you."

"What'd you say to him?"  Swinton sounded curious, as 
if he wanted to share in a nasty secret.

"Just told him what I was going to do."  He leaned down
again, whispering to the boy.  "Please hold my hand and
come with me."

The boy nodded and took Mulder's hand, eyeing Swinton
warily.

"Go on," Swinton urged, licking his lips again.  "Touch
him."

Mulder moved closer to the door, walking carefully with 
himself between Swinton and the boy.  He stopped in the 
doorway, then dropped the child's hand and stroked his hair.

"Go on," Swinton urged.  "Do it."

Mulder looked at the man; the gun was turned on him
now, and he turned back to the boy, dragging his left 
hand up and outward to stroke the boy's cheek.  He let 
his thumb rest on the boy's lip.  His right hand dropped
to his crotch and he shifted the gun, then reached inside.

"Fucking pervert!" Matthews screamed.

Swinton turned at the sound and Mulder shoved the boy 
backward, out the door, and whirled with his gun in hand, 
firing once and hitting Swinton in the knee.  The man went
down and Mulder landed on him, knocking the gun from his
hand and cuffing him in one swift move.  He lay there for
a moment, breathing heavily, then rolled off Swinton.

"All clear," he called out the window.  "All clear."

End part 07/13

Profiles in Caring: The Everett Case 08/13

"Matthews said you touched the boy."  

Skinner remained silent as Inspector Simms spoke quietly.

Mulder shrugged.  "I did."

"Not the way Matthews means, Mulder," Scully said shortly.
"He touched the child's hair, and his face, Inspector.  
Held his hand.  That was all."

Mulder shuddered.  "I tried to talk to him -- tell him 
what was happening."

"Matthews also said you were, uh, touching yourself."
The man was obviously uncomfortable, and he flushed
dark as he spoke.  "He said you had your hand in your
pants."

"Oh, for God's sake!  My gun was in my pants!"

Simms nodded.  "That's what the boy said."

"Then why are you even bringing this up, Inspector?" 
Skinner interjected.  "Don't we have other things we
need to be focusing on?"

"Matthews may bring formal charges of misconduct."  
Simms paused, one hand on his hip as he paced a few short 
steps to the window and then ran his fingers through
his close-cropped hair.  "I'll be surprised if he 
doesn't."

"But if the boy denies it ..."  Scully let the question
hang in the air.

Simms shrugged.  "It could still be a problem.  Matthews
is likely to claim the boy couldn't tell the difference
in the kind of touch Mulder used."

"Oh, for Christ's sake!"  It was Mulder's turn to pace
and he quickly filled the room with frenetic energy until
Scully placed a hand on his arm and stilled him.  "I
don't have time for this," he mumbled.

"Matthews is likely to be facing some charges of his
own, Inspector.  Let's start with failure to follow
a direct order, unauthorized entry into the building,
putting the life of the hostage and my agent at risk, 
and insubordination, just to name a few."  Skinner sighed
and removed his glasses, then pinched the bridge of his
nose before replacing them  "Inspector," he said, "we'll 
deal with Matthews, when and if the issues arise.  In 
the meantime, we have more pressing business."

"Matthews is good at his job," Simms said quietly.  "I
don't know why he took such a dislike to your boy here."

"He feels threatened," Scully answered.  "We've run into
this before."  Her hand was still on Mulder's arm and 
she led him to the table, pushing to get him to sit down.

"I just want to find the boys," Mulder said softly.

Simms watched as Scully sat beside the profiler, and
the big AD moved to stand behind him.  This man had a
talent, and it exacted a tremendous toll on him.  He
was lucky he had people like his partner and the AD
to take care of him.  Simms couldn't remember a single
working colleague whom he had related to the way these
three did.  He sighed, thinking about the horrors he
saw daily and knew if it wasn't for his wife, he'd
be walking the edge the same way this man was.  

"I'll do what I can to keep a lid on Matthews," he said
firmly.  "In the meantime, do you have any ideas what 
we do next?"

Mulder looked up, a tight expression on his face.  
"Actually -- I do."

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

"You said your boss would let me go."

Mulder nodded.  "And he would have, too, if you hadn't
shot the cop."

"What was I supposed to do?  Let him kill me?"  Swinton
dropped his head, cradling it in his hands as he stared
down at the table.

"No, but I can guarantee you that guys are gonna be lining
up to do just that on the inside."  Mulder watched as 
Swinton jumped, wrapping his arms around himself.  
"They don't like child molesters on the inside."

"I didn't hurt them," Swinton protested.

"I know," Mulder said soothingly.  "You're different.  
You only loved them."

"You understand."  Swinton looked up.  "You gotta
keep me outta there.  You gotta keep me safe."

"I may be able to arrange something," Mulder said,
nodding.  "After all, you did give me the boy."

Swinton's black eyes glittered as he licked his lips.
"Was he good?  Did you love him?"

Mulder shrugged.  "He was okay."  He leaned over, planting
his hands on the table and staring right into Swinton's
face.  "I like blondes," he murmured.  "Tell me how to
get a blonde, and I'll make sure you don't get into
the general population."

"Blonde?  Fair-skin?"  Swinton nodded.  "I can do that."
He looked around the interrogation room, as if for the
first time.  "Do you really want to talk about this
now?  I mean, don't they record everything in here?"

He pulled back from Swinton, standing up.  "Can't.  
Gotta tell you if we're recording."  He shook his head.
"Now, tell me about the boy -- the blonde one."

"I just got him a couple days ago."  The man was 
getting visibly excited as he spoke.  "He was my
neighbor's kid.  Everett saw him one day -- said he
had to have him."

"Did you touch him?"

Swinton shook his head.  "Nah -- no time."

Behind the mirrored glass, Skinner breathed a sigh of
relief.

"Everett wanted him right away."

This time, Skinner let out a groan, and raised a hand
to cover his eyes.  Scully placed a hand on his arm in
silent support.

"How do I get in touch with Everett?"

"E-mail," Swinton said.  "Whenever I have a client for
him, I e-mail him and he sets up a meet."  He looked at
Mulder.  "It ain't cheap, ya know."

Mulder shrugged.  "I've got money."  He smiled as he
moved to the wall and leaned casually against it, staring
at the man at the table.  "It's amazing what you can do
when you're a cop."

"So ... I set up the meet and you get me outta here?"
Swinton's eyes were hopeful.

Mulder shook his head.  "No can do.  You set up the meet,
and I keep you out of the general population.  You shot
a cop.  No way can I get you out."

Swinton looked at the table for a long time, then nodded
slowly.  "I need a computer," he said.

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

"Mulder," Skinner said softly as they sat at the table
in the hotel room, "what exactly are you planning to 
do?"

Mulder was wrapped in a blanket -- he'd been shivering
since they left the stationhouse -- and he held a cup
of hot tea in both hands.  Scully stood behind him, 
her hands working on the knots in his shoulders.

"I'm going to e-mail this guy Everett, tell him I'm 
looking for a fair-skinned, blonde-haired 8 year old,
and then I'm going to go and get your nephew."  He
sighed as he contemplated what that entailed.  He
would have to convince this man Everett that sex with 
a child was what turned him on.  He dropped his head,
drawing both hands down his face and wincing as his
stitches pulled and he pressed against the bruising
around his eyes.

Scully reached out and caught his wrists. "Stop, Mulder,"
she said softly.  "Don't do this to yourself."

"Pain's a big component, Scully.  I've got to fit in."

"Not like that, you don't," Skinner said firmly.  "Isn't
there something else we can do?"

"They've had your nephew four days.  Two weeks for the 
Anderson boy.  A month for Dennis Jenkins.  Jack Potter's
been gone two months.  And that's just the boys we know
about.  Jack was eleven when they took him.  He was small
for his age, immature, but that could change.  Hell, it
could have already changed in two months.  Do you really
want to see another boy laid out like the last one?  Just
because he got too old?"

"We can track Everett.  Set up the meet, you go in, and
then we follow him."

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't think we'll get away 
with it.  And I can guarantee we'll only get one shot
at this."

There was a knock at the door and Skinner rose, opening
it and allowing the server to push the cart with their
lunch inside.  He busied himself setting out soup for 
each of them, and warm bread and drinks.  He pushed the
cart back by the door, then said, "Take my seat, Scully.
I'm going to pull the desk chair over."

It was a tight fit, with all three of them at the small
round table, but Mulder seemed comfortable sandwiched
between his lover and his friend.  Skinner watched him
closely, sure that whatever was running through his mind
was disturbing, but from his outward appearance, you
would never be able to tell.  He was eating, and seemed
relaxed and Skinner revised his earlier opinion.  Maybe 
nothing more than feeling comfortable and cared for
was running through Mulder's mind.  Maybe the man was
finally learning how to live for the moment, to appreciate
the now and enjoy it.  

It was something he himself had a hard enough time doing,
but something he'd been working on since his relationship
with his agents had shifted from supervisor to friend.
Mulder was trying to pull a piece of bread from the loaf,
and Scully smacked his hand gently, before he could crush
the loaf, then delicately separated a slice and passed 
it to him. 

"What?" he asked in mock hurt, "you're not going to butter
it for me?"

She gave a long-suffering sigh, but buttered the warm 
bread and passed it over, her hand lingering on his after 
he accepted her offering.

Skinner saw how they were so comfortable with each other, 
so in sync.  In a way, it pointed out his own aloneness, 
but it also made him feel that he belonged.  That they 
were so open with each other before him, made him feel 
accepted, almost a part of the group.

The table was small, very small.  When reached for a 
piece of bread, he jostled Scully, and some soup sloshed 
off the spoon that was partway to her mouth, leaving a 
spot on her blouse.  He started to apologize, but she 
brushed him off with a quick, "Don't worry about it, 
Walter."  He watched as Mulder dipped a napkin in water 
and sponged at the spot for her.

Again, he felt that sense of acceptance and belonging,
that he was privileged to be with these two very special
people.  He looked at them both, relaxed and smiling, 
and he hated to be the one to break the mood, but they
needed to move on.  Time was critical, and the short 
break for lunch seemed to have done wonders for Mulder.
For them all, truth be told.  

The meal had been demolished and he sat back as Mulder 
took a turn at clean up, watching as the younger man
stacked the dishes back on the cart, then pushed it out
into the hall.  He stuck the 'do not disturb' sign on 
the door, closed and locked it, then flopped onto the
bed.

Skinner watched as Mulder settled, pulling off his tie
and toeing off his shoes.  He'd shed his suit coat when
they'd first arrived, and as he watched, Scully sat
next to him, unbuttoning his cuffs and then taking one
hand into her lap.  They both turned and looked at 
Skinner.

"I'll do it," the big man blurted out without thinking.  
"I don't want you to have to do that, Mulder."

Mulder smiled, a self-deprecating expression that he
had down pat.  "I appreciate that, Walter, but you 
can't."

"Why not?  I can be a pervert."  Skinner flushed as 
the words escaped his mouth.

"Actually, Sir," Mulder drawled, "I don't think you
can.  You're too uptight."  He pulled his hand free 
from Scully's and sat up.  "And you're too high profile 
anyway.  You've already held two press conferences on 
this case.  There's no way Everett is going to think 
you're a kiddie lover."  He rose from the bed, moving 
to the far side of the room and distancing himself from
Scully and Skinner.  "I'm the one to do it.  You both 
know that."  He shrugged and his arms came around his 
chest as he hugged himself.  "I can convince him it's 
my kink, just like I convinced Swinton."

Skinner moved immediately to Mulder, Scully only a 
step behind.  "Don't do this, Mulder," he murmured,
one hand reaching out to grasp the other man's arm,
halting him before he backed into the wall.

"Do what?"  Mulder looked up, seemingly surprised to
see them both so close.  "Be a pervert?  Talk about 
little boys like they're the biggest turn-on of my life?
Like I think about touching them, stroking them, holding 
their little ..."

"Shhhh," Scully whispered, silencing him with a finger 
on his lips.  "Don't do this."  She indicated where 
he was, the far side of the room, backed all the way
into a corner.  "Don't run from us."  She removed her
finger from his lips, and turned her hand to stroke 
his cheek.  "Don't ever run from the people who love
you."  She moved forward, pressing herself against him,
and when he didn't respond, Skinner lifted one of Mulder's
arms and placed it around Scully.  

Mulder stared at the AD, then slowly brought his other
arm around to enfold Scully.  He met Skinner's eyes for 
a long moment, then dropped his head, burying his face
in a mane of red.  Skinner's hand was still on Mulder's
arm, and he took his other one and placed it on Scully's
shoulder, connecting the three of them for a short space
of time.  Then he cleared his throat and backed away.

"It was an early morning.  I think a nap is in order."
He looked at his watch, then added, "I'll see you both
at 3:00," and turned and slipped into his room.

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

Skinner's eyes were closed.  There was a warm body
beneath him and he could feel his erection, hard and
strong, jutting forward.  It felt good.  He stroked
soft skin, murmured in an ear, and then nibbled on
the tiny lobe.

There was a sound from beneath him, high-pitched and
strangled, and he immediately adjusted his weight a 
bit, holding himself up with one hand as the other 
roamed the pliable body beneath him.  He was a considerate
lover; he always wanted it to be good for his partner.

Eyes still closed; he lowered his head and sucked 
gently at the pulse point on the woman's neck.  God,
she was small!  He could feel her feet at his knees,
and he drew himself up a bit more, trying to keep his
weight off her.  His hand moved to her breast and 
then stopped.  There was a moan, and a strangled 
cry, and then he felt again. 

Nipple, but no breast.  

His head was down again, buried in the woman's neck,
and he ran his hand across her chest.  Still no
breast.  

He knew he wasn't thinking clearly, he never did in 
the heat of passion, but hadn't this woman had breasts
when he brought her home?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, then
ground his erection against her, an unconscious reaction
to the wriggling she was doing.  She cried again, but
this time there was something about it that hinted
of fear, rather than passion and he stopped moving.

With a growing sense of dread, Skinner opened his 
eyes and stared down into the face of a terrified 
child, naked and pinned beneath his body, tears
streaming down his face.

It was as if he been burned!  He threw himself backward,
off the boy, off the bed, landing hard on the floor
and scuttling back until he connected with the dresser.
His heart was racing and he couldn't breathe, and then
his stomach lurched and he knew he was going to be
sick.  He tried to stand, but he was too dizzy, so he
settled on a fast crawl to the bathroom, and lost his
lunch in the bright, white toilet.

He leaned back against the tub, cradling his head in 
his hands, the blood pounding in his temples.

It wasn't true.  It wasn't true.  It wasn't true.

He crawled to the door, peeked around the corner, half-
terrified there would be a child in his bed, and then
drew back in relief when all he saw was an empty expanse 
of white sheet and blanket and spread on the floor.

It was just a dream.  Not true.

He rose shakily to his feet, and washed his face in
cold water, then pulled back the shower curtain and
stepped in.  The water was cold when it came on, and
he relished the discomfort.  Was this what it was
like for Mulder?  Did he have to make it this real 
to be able to understand the monsters he hunted?

Skinner shivered in the freezing stream, but made
no move to turn on the hot water.  

Was it this connection to the monsters that made
Mulder self-destructive?  Was it because he made it
real, that he felt he had to be punished?

Skinner stood motionless, feeling his testicles 
retreat into what little warmth was left in his
body, all vestiges of an erection erased by the
icy water.  Intellectually, he knew he was not 
responsible for his body's reaction to a dream.
And in the dream, he'd truly thought he was with
a woman -- nothing wrong with that.  

He shivered again, standing stubbornly in the cold.
He waited, letting his mind blank, letting the water
wash over him, letting time pass.

It hadn't been his fault.  It was a dream, and we're
not responsible for our dreams.  We don't control
them, we don't direct them.  They just come to us.

He'd thought it was a woman.  His body had reacted
to a woman.  He'd been aroused by a woman. 

Not a frightened little boy.

His mind flashed on the vision of the boy in the bed,
wide, terrified eyes staring up at him in fear and pain,
and Skinner felt the tears fill his eyes and spill over
onto his cheeks.  The child had been so scared, so
afraid, and so helpless.  

And he'd been hard, and erect, and pushing against
the small body.

Skinner choked on a sob.  He shivered in the hard, 
cold water, his hands covering his face as he cried.
He was so cold.  He couldn't think, he couldn't feel,
and he didn't want to.  

Only one thing remained.

Dear God -- he'd thought it was a woman.

End part 08/13