~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they reached their destination, Skinner was so drained of energy that he could hardly keep his eyes open. The strain of the last few days had finally caught up with him. Now that the glare of publicity was gone, the Ambassador's daughter was safely back with her family and the perpetrator was in custody, the adrenaline that had kept him alert and awake for the last 60 hours had melted away, leaving him almost catatonic with weariness.

He allowed Mulder to help him out of the car and even so, he stumbled slightly as the other man steered him towards the elevator in the parking garage. He reached blindly for something to stop him keeling over and found Scully's firm hand at his elbow. Supporting him on either side, the two agents got him to the door of the apartment and Mulder steadied him while Scully let them in.

Looking dazedly around the room, he knew he hadn't been here before. Whose apartment was this? Why had he let them bring him here? He should pull himself together and go home... but the edges of his vision were dimming and the floor looked awfully inviting, if he could just lie down for a minute...

The question of where he was, was soon answered, as Scully hung up hers and Mulder's coats in a closet and spoke to her partner:

"Run a bath would, you Mulder. I'll fix us some soup.
He doesn't look as if he'll last out much longer and I
bet he hasn't eaten since yesterday. That robe is in
your closet - top shelf."

Mulder nodded and disappeared out of the room and Scully turned back to Skinner with concern in her eyes. He'd backed himself up against the wall and was leaning there, his eyes closed, concentrating on staying upright. He was dimly aware of small hands pulling the coat from his shoulders and leading him to a chair.

"You can sleep soon, sir, but I think a hot bath would
help and I want you to try and eat something too. Just
some soup and bread."

She peered into his face. He looked awful, she thought, drawn and pale. Did he even have the strength to bathe or eat, she wondered, seriously concerned now. She touched a hand to his brow. No temperature at least. Just sheer exhaustion, she supposed, the burden of responsibility for a high-profile, nearly-tragic case that had been the focus of less than friendly media attention and nearly cost the AD his life into the bargain. No wonder the man was shutting down now, after the hell of the past few days.

Mulder stuck his head round the door, a black bathrobe over his arm. He'd changed into sweats and an old T-shirt and looked worried when he saw Scully checking Skinner over.

"How's he doing? I can't believe the shit that reporter
pulled back there. The guy's not slept for nearly three
days because he takes his job so seriously and she
had the nerve to question the necessity of having a
'desk-jockey' running the operation..."

Mulder's voice was heated and his eyes flashed with anger on his boss's behalf. He suddenly heard himself and shook his head ruefully. Not so long ago he hadn't had that much respect for Skinner himself, but that had slowly changed as instance after instance of Skinner showing his support and then suffering for it had convinced Mulder that this man was a true friend.

He joined Scully at Skinner's side, wrapping the soft cotton robe around the big man's shoulders.

"Maybe we should forget the bath and just make him eat
something before he falls down from malnutrition instead
of exhaustion?"

"Mmm. Sir? Can you manage some soup, do you think?"

Skinner roused himself and smiled gratefully. He felt highly embarrassed to be so feeble, but in truth he could hardly keep his eyes open and wasn't up to thinking about the wisdom or otherwise of being here in Scully (and Mulder's?) apartment, being fed and looked after like an invalid.

"That sounds good, Agent Scully. I don't want to put
you out, though. I'll get a cab after I've eaten."

"You'll do no such thing, sir, and I think you could
call me Dana tonight. You're our guest, remember?"

Our guest, he took note. So they were living together. He was happy for them. He missed another voice and presence in his own home and still found himself wondering if he and Sharon could have patched things up if her death hadn't snatched that chance away. He wasn't given to introspection of a self-pitying nature, but he had to admit that he felt lonely sometimes. These two had had the luck to find each other and recognise that they were stronger together than separately. He envied them.

They sat at the pine table, the three of them, and ate the warming soup and crusty bread. Skinner was aware of two pairs of eyes checking on him as he concentrated on not falling nose-down in his soup bowl. He felt better already: drowsy and relaxed, ready for sleep. He was eating more and more slowly and when his spoon clattered against the table, Scully took it gently from his hand and nodded to Mulder. Together, they led him upstairs and into a pale yellow bedroom, welcoming with soft light and a huge antique pine bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Skinner hoped they'd tell him what was next on the agenda because he didn't think he had the will to make a decision, however trivial. Reading his mind, Mulder crouched beside him, one hand on his shoulder, waiting until he had the older man's attention.

"I ran a bath, but it'll be cold now. I think you can go to
bed scruffy for once? We'll leave you in peace to make
yourself comfortable, but leave the lights on for us, huh?"

This was more than Skinner could get his head around at the moment. Leave the lights on for us...??? What...? He must be more tired than he'd realised. He began to slowly loosen his tie and toe his shoes off, autopilot taking over as he got ready for bed. Bending to peel his socks off, he almost rolled onto the floor and would have stayed there for sure, but he clutched at the bedpost and righted himself and even managed to haul himself upright in order to finish undressing. Finding himself naked, he was disconcerted as to what to wear. He was about to pull his boxer briefs on again, when he saw the robe pooled on the comforter. He pulled it on, pleased to find it was plenty big enough. Surely it wasn't one of Mulder's, he speculated, it would swamp the other man's slighter build. Too tired to worry about it, he belted the terrycloth around himself and got into the wide bed. It was bliss: cool, smooth sheets, a soft pillow...

He was reaching for the bedside lamp when he remembered something. "Leave the lights on for us". Now what was that about? Already slipping into sleep, Skinner let his stretching arm fall heavily onto the pillow and was only dimly aware of the two bodies that spooned in on either side of him after the lights were turned out.

In the dark room only the sound of breathing was heard. Then a soft rustle of sheets as Mulder and Scully shifted even closer to the sleeping man. A small hand slipped inside the cotton robe to caress the warm muscled chest, fingers circling in the soft hair. A dark head snuggled into the crook of the broad shoulder, full lips planted a soft kiss on the bare scalp. "Goodnight..."

Skinner made a small sound of contentment. "... mmmph... good."

THE END

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