chapter 19.

Doggett hugged his knees to his chest. Shit, it was cold in here. 
The bare floor of the hole was covered in gritty bits that dug into 
him wherever his skin touched it. Lying down was a nightmare; his 
body was a mass of bruised flesh. In the past two and a bit days, 
he'd discovered there was no comfortable way to lie, sit or stand. 
But at least he was safe from another beating. Giving him chance to 
heal.
He poked gingerly at his hip bone. There was a deep blue bruise 
across the bone, one that ached clear through to the other side. A 
boot in the side that had stopped just this side of a giving him a 
fractured pelvis, he imagined.

The clank of door key made him jump. He looked up, still not used to 
the silence in the Hole, not after the unrelenting noise of the rest 
of the prison. The door swung open and his heart sank. So much for 
being left alone.
"Hello, Jackie-boy."
Officer Howell grinned down at him. Her eyes traveled slowly up and 
down his nude body, stopping to study his groin.
Not bothering to cover himself, Doggett glared back up at her. 
"What d'you want?" he growled.
"Just thought I'd see how you're gettin' on, Sweetheart." She stepped 
into the cell. "See if there's anything I can do for you." The door 
creaked shut behind her.

"Can't think of anything in particular," Doggett muttered. He tensed 
up, but he didn't think he'd have the strength to fight her off if 
she made a move on him.
"How `bout a blow-job?"
Utterly stunned, he stared up at her. She tucked her baton in her 
belt. 
"What?"
"A blow job." She winked and moved closer. "You do know what one of 
those is, don't you, honey?"
Nodding incredulously, Doggett felt his balls creep closer to his 
body. The very idea made his flesh shrivel. "I know."
"Then how `bout it?" She bent to put her hands on his knees.
"Uh..." He swallowed. "No, thanks all the same." He braced his legs. 
What the hell? What did she think she was doing? Surely she didn't 
mean it...
"I'm good," she told him, kneeling, pulling his legs apart. 

Fuckin' hell. She meant it.
Doggett tried to squeeze his legs together. He didn't want this crazy 
bitch touching him. He put his hand over his dick.
"No... Don't."
Howell grinned and shook her head. "C'mon, baby. Don't be shy." She 
reached down between his legs.
"No!"
Slapping her hands away, Doggett tried to scramble away, his sore 
body protesting at the harsh floor, the sudden movement.

There was a noise outside the door.
Standing swiftly, Howell took her baton out from her belt. Doggett 
cringed. Shit, now he was gonna get a different kind of attention.
"Stand up!" she yelled at him, raising the stick as another officer 
came round the door.
"Having trouble?" he asked her.
"I got it covered. Get up, Costello." She kicked out. "NOW!"

Doggett yelped as her boot thudded dully against his thigh. He 
scrambled to his knees and pushed himself upright, using the wall to 
steady himself.
"That's enough, Officer Howell."
Doggett turned. Sister Pete stood in the doorway, a bundle of clothes 
in her hands. 
He felt the color rise in his face. 
"I'll take it from here. You can go."
Howell straightened up. "I don't think that's appropriate, Sister."
"I'll manage." She turned to Doggett. "Are you going to behave 
yourself, Jack?"
He nodded, keeping his back to her.
"There you are. Jack is going to behave."
"I don't..."
"I said, I can manage." Peter Marie's voice held an edge to it. 
Doggett glanced at her. It was the tone of voice his mother had 
always used, right before she'd make his dad take the strap to him.
There was a moment of stand-off between the two women, and then with 
a shrug, Howell shoved her baton away.
"Suit yourself. But don't come running to me when he rapes you."
She jerked her head at the other officer and they both left the cell, 
the door swinging behind them.

Doggett and Pete stared at one another.
At last, she smiled. "You're not planning on raping me, are you, 
Jack?"
The slight blush he'd been nursing roared into full-bloom. "It wasn't 
on my list of things to do today, no."
"I didn't think so." She held out the clothes to him. "Here you go. 
Why don't you put these on and then we can get out of here."

Doggett hugged the wall, not moving. He blinked. There was no way he 
was moving from here while she was in the room. Bad enough she was 
getting an eyeful of his bare ass. 
"I... I'm naked," he said, pointing out the obvious.
"So I see..." She sighed. "I'm not intimidated by your nudity, Jack. 
I know what a man's body looks like." She waggled her outstretched 
hand. "Come on. Now."

She was using that tone again. He stared at her and she stared at 
him. Although he was impressed her eyes never wavered from his, he 
wasn't comfortable.
"Turn around," he said, reaching out a hand to the clothes.
"What?"
"I'm not moving from here til you turn around."
Smiling, she held out the clothes with one hand and turned her head 
away. "Happy?"

Grunting, Doggett snatched the clothes and began to pull them on, 
keeping one eye on her, checking she wasn't going to peek.
"I never met a prisoner who was bashful, before."
Snorting, Doggett pulled the tee shirt over his head.
"Especially one with no good cause."
Pausing with his head about to pop through the hole, Doggett stared 
at the back of her head, shocked.
"What d'you say?"
"Hurry up," she said, ignoring him. "Before Howell changes her mind 
and comes back."
With that thought uppermost, he finished dressing and wriggled his 
feet into his trainers.
"Ready," he said, running his hands through his hair. He must look 
like seven shades of shit. 
Black and blue, hair all over the place, and a weeks growth of beard.
Pete turned round. 
"Okay. Let's go."

Following her up the corridor, Doggett wondered why she'd come to get 
him. McManus had gone ballistic when he was dragged from the gym and 
he'd screamed that he was going to spend the next thirty days in Ad 
Seg.
By his count, he was short of that by twenty seven days.

"Why am I getting out so soon?"
"Your lucky day, I guess."
They walked further in silence, the doors to the other cells passing 
one by one until the end of the block. They waited side by side as 
the door was unlocked.
"I don't believe that."
"Really?"
He shook his head as they mounted the stairs. "I messed that guy up 
pretty bad." He held his ribs as he climbed.
"Yes. You did." Pete stopped and turned to him. "Why?"
"I believed he was going to kill me."
"Raymond Doyle is going to have to have reconstructive surgery on his 
upper jaw. He has a fractured cheekbone and is missing four teeth." 
From two steps above, she looked down on him. "Did you enjoy what you 
did to him, Jack?"

Doggett swallowed. He felt a little queasy. "No. I didn't." He shook 
his head and spoke quietly. "It makes me sick."
"Good." She carried on climbing.
Following more slowly, Doggett held on to himself and wondered what 
the hell was going on.
First he was in the hole, then he was out... It didn't make sense. 
Unless...
He reached up and touched Sister Pete's elbow. She turned to look at 
his hand.
"Is this the Governor?" he asked. Had Leo Glynn arranged for him to 
be released early?
He couldn't do his job locked away from Keller.

Pete stared at his hand until he got the message and let go of her 
elbow.
"Yes. It is. He apparently sees good reason why you should be 
returned to your pod."
From her tone, she wasn't convinced it was the right decision.
Doggett nodded. 
"Was it the right decision?" she asked.
He looked at her. "No, I don't think so." He surprised himself. That 
wasn't what he thought he was going to say.
"Oh?"
"I haven't been punished enough for doing what I did." He 
sighed. "But I'm sure someone will find a way of rectifying that."
"Probably." She stepped down to look at him eye to eye. Her voice 
dropped to barely a whisper. "But you can't do what you came here to 
do in the Hole, can you, Jack?" 
He stared at her. 
"Is it `Jack'?"
Dumbly, he shook his head. He opened his mouth a couple of times. 
Stunned by her comment. 
"It's John," he whispered. 
Pete nodded. "John... You listen to me. You take care, you 
understand? Be very careful. If word gets out amongst these men that 
you are an officer of the law, your life will be over within minutes. 
Is that clear?"
Doggett nodded. "How did you..."
She gave a one shouldered shrug. "I badgered Leo. I knew something 
wasn't right."

She started up the stairs again. Doggett followed. Seemed that his 
whole life he was running into women who took the world in their 
hands and strangled the truth out of it. He snorted softly, using the 
stair rail to pull himself up to the landing. Seemed that the only 
one he knew that didn't possess that tenacity was his wife. She just 
didn't have the heart to fight for anything, least of all him.
He stood beside Sister Pete, wincing at the pain in his side. 
She reached up and held his chin. "You get what you need and get out 
quickly, John." 
He nodded, surprised at the strength in her fingers. "I intend to."

chapter 20.


"It's not a priority, Assistant Director."
Skinner slammed his hand down on the table.
"It's a goddamned priority to Agent Doggett!" he shouted.
"We can't endanger the operation."
"For crying out loud, his father might be dying!" Skinner knew that 
shouting at his superior wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done, 
but the whole situation was too close to home, too sore an issue for 
him to see and think clearly. He would have given anything to have 
had the chance to say goodbye to his parents. He didn't want Doggett 
to spend the rest of his life thinking the same thing.

The Deputy Director shrugged. "He might be... May be. It's not a 
certainty..." He held up a hand as Skinner opened his mouth to 
speak. "And even if it were, I can't justify losing the only chance 
we have of finding out about possible corruption in the courts."
"POSSIBLE corruption?" Skinner straightened up. "I thought it was a 
certainty."
Kersh shook his head. "It's not been proven. But I have it from a 
reliable source..."

Skinner felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. "I don't believe it... 
He's there on a hunch? On one of your..."
"Reliable information."
"So you said." Skinner stood up. "One of our best agents is placed in 
an extremely hazardous situation on the basis of your `hunch'." He 
glared across the desk. 
"Happens all the time, Assistant Director. You know that."

But not to someone I love, thought Skinner. 
He fought down the urge to punch Kersh in the mouth. Well, fuck 
Kersh, fuck the FBI and fuck the Justice Department. He was going to 
get word to Doggett. His family was more important than any half-
assed operation. Especially one cooked up because Alvin Kersh fancied 
getting some glory. He made a move to leave, his jaw set.

"Don't even think about it, AD Skinner." Kersh stood up. "You will 
not jeopardize this operation. If I hear that you contacted Agent 
Doggett, then I will personally see to it that you are busted so far 
down, you won't have clearance to clean the men's room." 
Fair exchange, Skinner thought. 
He stood up, still determined.
Kersh smirked. "And if Agent Doggett abandons this case, I shall see 
to it that his employment is also terminated."

Skinner stared. He wouldn't? Just to save face?
Kersh stared back, his face stony.
Yes. He would.


*


"You're out early." Beecher looked him up and down. 
"Guess the boss had a change of heart." Doggett placed his laundry 
in a machine.
"Lucky you."
"Yeah. You'd think." Wincing as he pushed the door shut, he 
sighed. "God..." he groaned. "I'm too old for this shit." 
A good night's sleep on a bunk had turned into a chat-marathon from 
Rebadow, and an insomniac's wet-dream of wakeful fretting. Whether it 
was the pain, the creaky bed or the thought of Skinner, it didn't 
really matter. It all had the same result. Staring at the bump 
Rebadow's ass made in the upper bunk most of the night.

"I take it you didn't sleep too well?" Beecher grinned, tipping 
powder into his own machine.
"Not so's you'd notice."
"You'll get used to it."
Doggett shook his head. "I hope not."

Someone burst through the door. "Hey, Jack! You got out!" 
It was Keller. Doggett nodded. "Looks like." He couldn't help the 
tiny stab of resentment that the other man hadn't so much as spoken 
up for him in the gym.
"Cool. You wanna play some poker? Me and the guys are lookin' for 
another body."

Torn between the desire to pump the cheerful shit for the information 
he needed, and the more pressing need to just lie down somewhere and 
sleep, he hesitated too long.
"Hey... Whatever, man. Suit yourself." Keller flicked his eyes to 
Beecher. "Hey, Toby. Wanna come play with me?" Doggett got the 
impression there wasn't poker in that invitation, but he couldn't be 
sure.
"No." Beecher's voice was cold and dead.
"You sure?"
"I'm busy."
"That's too bad." Keller smiled. It brightened up his whole face, 
Doggett thought. "See ya around, man." Without waiting for a reply, 
Keller turned left the laundry room.

"Friend of yours?" Doggett asked. 
"Not any more."
"Oh." 
Beecher's tone made it clear that questions wouldn't be welcome. 
Doggett watched the man savagely turn the dials on the machine and 
sighed. Didn't look like he'd get any information from Beecher. 
Never mind. He'd try again with Keller later. When he felt a little 
less like a pile of minced shit.
Damn. He felt rough.
He reached up to rub his eyes, but never finished the move, a sharp 
pain in his shoulder reminding him that he had gotten the shit kicked 
out of himself a few days ago. His body wasn't gonna let him forget 
that, just yet.

"Shit..." he pulled a face.
Beecher came up to him. "Hey, you look like crap, man."
"Thanks."
Beecher smiled. "Sorry. But you do." He peered closer. "You wanna go 
to the infirmary?"
"Nah. I'll be okay." He stretched to try and work the kink out of 
his shoulder.
"Here..." 

Next thing he knew, Beecher's hands were on his shoulders and neck, 
rubbing and kneading.
Doggett flinched. "Hey..."
"Oh, get over yourself. I'm just trying to help, not fuck you."
Doggett's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to pass comment on that, 
but the man's hands just felt too good. He groaned again, this time 
in satisfaction, recalling the times Rudy had sat behind him and done 
this, all the time complaining good-naturedly because Doggett 
wouldn't let him suck him off.

"See? Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," he muttered. 
Fuck it. Right at that moment, he really didn't care if Beecher was 
trying to make a move on him, it just felt too damn good.

"Besides, if wanted to fuck you, you'd be bent over that washer with 
my dick up your ass by now."
Doggett choked back a laugh. "Oh yeah?" Shit, more like his old 
friend that he could believe.
"Uh-huh."
"You reckon I'm that easy?"
"Nah..." Doggett felt the whisper of breath against his neck. "But 
I'm that good."

The laugh made it all the way out this time. "Jesus, Beecher..." He 
shook his head.
The hands dropped from his body. "Does that frighten you, Jack?"
Doggett turned. "Take more than your sad ass to frighten me."
Beecher grinned and took a handful of his tee shirt, bunching it up 
like he was going to hit him. "Oh, yeah?"
Doggett gazed back calmly. He bet his sore and bruised face on the 
gut instinct that told him Beecher wasn't the type to smack him 
around. He smiled. "Yeah."
"Ooh. Tough guy."
"Better believe it."

The two stared at one another, and then Beecher ducked in suddenly 
and put his mouth over Doggett's.
Startled beyond what he had been half-expecting, Doggett jumped and 
put his hands up to Beecher's chest. But he didn't pull away. And 
that surprised him even more.
He allowed the other man to kiss him, without protest, without 
struggling. He allowed Beecher to part his lips with his tongue and 
probe deep into his mouth. 
He didn't know why he didn't struggle and he didn't bother to ask 
himself.
Maybe he missed the intimacy, or maybe in some way he was allowing 
Rudy the kind of kiss his friend had always wanted to give him. He 
wasn't sure; he just stood there and let it happen.

Eventually, Beecher pulled away. 
"Well. You kinda surprise me, Jack. I didn't think you'd let me get 
away with that."
Doggett shrugged. Didn't see any mileage in admitting that he hadn't 
thought he'd let him get away with it, either. 
"It was just a kiss." 
"Thought you said you were married."
"Thought you said you were, too."
Beecher smiled. "Touche." He let go of Doggett shirt and stepped 
back. "What can I say?"
"Nothin'. It doesn't matter."
"That mean you want to fuck, or not?"
Doggett winced. 
"Hey! Not much point in dicking around with niceties in here."
"So I gather."
"Well? What's it to be?"
Doggett sighed. "It's complicated." Wasn't that the truth? Ancient 
history and guilt bleeding together.
Beecher grunted. "Isn't it always? You married again?"
"No. But I have someone. On the outside, you know."
"Guy?"
Doggett nodded. Didn't seem to any point in lying.
Beecher gave a grim smile. "And you think he's still gonna be there 
when you finally get out of here?"
Doggett couldn't help the smile. "I sure hope so."
Beecher shook his head. "You're either a very stupid man, or a very 
lucky one, Jack."
"Time will tell," he said, pulling his shirt straight. 

He turned to turn his machine on.
From the corner of his eye, he could see someone standing on the 
other side of the glass. He looked up.
Keller was standing motionless, his arms above his head, forehead 
resting on the glass. 
He didn't look pleased at all.
Doggett wondered why. And more importantly, if he'd just gone and 
made another huge mistake.


*


Scully pointed at the folder on the left. "....And you'll see that 
the figures balance out between the two." 
There was no reaction from the other side of the desk.
"Sir?" She looked up. Skinner was holding his pen, turning it over 
and over, his expression indication his mind was anywhere but on the 
expense claims in front of him.
She exchanged a glance with Mulder.
"Sir?" 
The pen tumbled over and over between his fingers. No sign that he 
heard.
Mulder leaned forward. "There's this new Multi-system home 
entertainment thing on offer at the store down the way. I thought 
I'd charge it to the Bureau. Is that okay, sir?"

Skinner nodded.
Grinning, Mulder pushed a blank 302 across the desk. "Can I have that 
in writing?"
Blinking, Skinner stopped juggling his pen and focused on him. 
"What?" 
"Welcome back," Mulder smiled.
Frowning Skinner looked down at the 302. What had they been talking 
about? Expense accounts? Signing off? Signing off on what? Jesus, he 
had to get a grip. Try and keep his mind on work for more than five 
minutes at a time.

"Sir?" 
He looked up at Scully. 
"Yes, Agent?"
"Are you feeling quite all right?"
He frowned. How dare she... Sighing, he studied the fountain pen in 
his hand. Damn. She could see through him like plate-glass. He 
closed his eyes briefly and looked up.
"Are you..." she started.
He shook his head. Not here, he said with his expression. With sudden 
decisiveness, he unsnapped his pen lid and pulled the 302 towards 
him. Scribbling quickly, he turned the paper around for her to see.
Gino's Diner. 15 minutes.



*



Something nagging and buzzing inside his head dragged Doggett out of 
his doze. The dream had started off good, with Skinner in it, but it 
had changed as he slept, turning inside-out to become a small horror-
flick with his mother in the starring role. 
All spiky legs and scales. Very unnerving.

But despite the nightmare trip to Lord of the Rings, it'd been a good 
nap; deep and refreshing. He wondered how long he'd been out of it.
Carefully scrubbing his face and yawning, he stretched and opened his 
eyes. Rebadow was standing inches from his face.
"Jesusfuck!!" startled, Doggett scrambled back in his bunk. "What're 
you tryin' to do to me, man?"
"I wanted to check you were just asleep."
"Well, I'm not fuckin' dead yet,okay?" Vaguely pissed at himself 
from being frightened by the old man, Doggett moved back to the 
middle of his bed. "What time is it?"
"About half past four. It'll be time to eat, soon." He smiled 
broadly. "It's pizza day, today."
"Yay." Doggett tried not to sound too sarcastic. He eased himself up, 
holding on to his very sore thigh. Howell's boot was making itself 
known. "Jeez..."
"You still hurting?"
He pointed at his face. "What do you think?"
"Ah."

Rebadow puttered around the pod a while, moving stuff, straightening 
books, papers. Doggett poked and probed his body, finding out what 
bits ached too much to ignore. He was gonna live, but it wasn't going 
to be much fun for a while. 
He ran a hand over his beard. It was thickening out now. Always took 
him a while to get a decent coverage, especially on his cheeks. But 
it was pretty near all over now. Hadn't sported a full-on beard for 
God knows how long. Barb had hated it.
Wasn't sure he liked it, either. Kinda made him feel a bit unclean. 
He wondered if Skinner would dig the hippy-look. 

"She does love you, you know."
Doggett looked up, his mind a blank. "Huh?"
"You might think she doesn't, but she does."
He screwed up his face. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"She's always loved you best." Rebadow frowned, trying to get his 
toothbrush to stand upright. 
"I don't think that's right, having favorites. But there you go." 

He used his toothpaste to prop it up. It fell over again.
"Rebadow... Are you havin' a stroke, or somethin', man?"
"No. He is. Not me."
Doggett shook his head. Great. Hundred's of inmates and he got to 
share a pod the loopy one.
"You remind her of Michael. That's why she loves you best."

Doggett opened his mouth to ask who the fuck Michael was, but closed 
it with a sigh. He wasn't going to get into conversation with a crazy 
man. He didn't have the energy.
"Yeah, right."
"You do. You have the same eyes. Same color hair."
"Yeah... Michael." He shook his head. "I'm going for a walk." He got 
up carefully. "See you around, Rebadow."
Seemed everyone in this place was crazy in some way or another. He 
had to get this job done and out of here, before it was his turn.




*



They came in together, which while not surprising him, did disappoint 
him slightly. He could have done without Mulder's company. 
Indicating at the waitress, he let them get settled in the booth 
before ordering.
"Coffee. Black, no sugar."
"Latte, with hazelnut syrup."
Mulder picked up the menu. "Can I get something to eat? I'm starved." 
He glanced at the food orders. "I'll have the bacon and cheese on 
white, with a side of onion rings and a root beer."
He grinned. "Skipped breakfast," he told the waitress, winking.
"Anything for you guys?"
Scully shrugged. "Okay. I'll have a bagel. Cream cheese and salad, 
thank you." She looked pointedly at Skinner. "And what would you 
like, Walter?"
He sighed. What would he like? Peace and quiet, Alvin Kersh's nuts on 
a plate and John Doggett back in his arms, he thought.
He cleared his throat, frowning. "Cherry Danish."
"Is that all?" The waitress held her pen over her pad.
"That's all, thank you." He didn't really care for that kind of 
pastry, but it was John's favorite, and that seemed appropriate.

"So." Scully leaned on her elbows. "What is it? What's wrong? Have 
you heard from John?"
Skinner shook his head. He watched Mulder stacking the sachets of 
sweetener.
"No."
"Then what?"
He sighed. The stack of little packets grew. Jesus, Mulder was such 
a baby. Couldn't sit still for a second. He took off his glasses and 
rubbed his face. "Sal Doggett called me last night. John's father's 
ill. Very ill."
There was silence, except for the rustle of little packets. The noise 
grated on Skinner's nerves.
"They think stroke."
"Oh, Walter."
"Thing is, John needs to know, but Kersh has vetoed it. Says that if 
John wants out, the whole thing's lost."
"God..."
Skinner spread his hands. "He needs to know about his father. Needs 
to be allowed to make the choice of whether to see him, before..." He 
sighed. "Damn. I don't know what to do." 

The packets tumbled in a heap. 
One of Skinner's hands snapped out and slammed Mulder's to the 
table. "Can't you leave things alone?" he snarled. "Just for five 
fucking minutes?"
Mulder sat, meerkat-eyed across the table.
"Excuse me?" Three sets of eyes turned to the waitress, who stood 
with a large tray in her hands. 
Skinner removed his hand, embarrassed. He thrust his glasses back on 
his face and swept the debris aside for the food.
Distributed in silence, the three of them sat and looked at it for a 
moment or two.
"Sorry," Mulder spoke quietly.
Skinner grunted.

For the next few minutes, they all ate in silence. Skinner stuck a 
finger in the middle of his pastry and sucked the fruit off. Just 
like John would do on a Sunday morning, when they ate breakfast in 
bed. It was sharp, tangy. He felt his mouth cramp up and water at the 
taste. He felt like the rest of him wanted to crampup, too.

"So you can't contact him?"
He shook his head. "I asked." He sucked off another fingerful. "Kersh 
informs me that if I show my face there, he'll see me fired."
"Jeez. You must have really pissed the boss off, huh?" Mulder wiped 
cheese grease off his chin.
"Apparently the set-up is one of his babies. He doesn't want to see 
it go down the tubes."
Scully snorted. "Asshole."
The word, coming from her, made Skinner smile. "Quite. And while I'm 
sorely tempted to test him out, he's hanging John's career over my 
head, too."
"He wouldn't?"
Skinner looked at her. "He would. Just to prove he's the boss."

Picking at the Danish, Skinner watched the other two eat in silence, 
the sounds of the diner strangely comforting. A blast of normality in 
this fucked-up situation. This was the sort of place Doggett would 
choose to eat when it was his treat. Preferably a place with good 
rock and roll music playing in the background. Although those 
establishments were getting harder and harder to find, nowadays.

Scully put down the last bit of her bagel. "If you can't go and see 
John, then how about sending someone else?" 
"I thought about that. I know Sal would go, but I don't think she 
should be away from her parents right now."
"I'd do it. Only..." she shrugged. "I met Tim McManus at a seminar a 
while back. If you think I could get away without him seeing me, then 
I'm willing to go."
"It's not worth the risk. If you're recognized, then word will get 
out and Kersh will have your career, too."
Scully pulled a face. "I think I..."
"No. Scully. I won't risk you, too."
Mulder held up a fork. "Can't you call him? I mean, prisoners are 
allowed phone calls, aren't they?"
Scully gave him a look. "You think this is the sort of thing you'd 
want to hear over the phone, Mulder?"
He looked abashed. "Oh. I guess not."
"I should think so."
"I need to get word to him, so he an either hurry things up, or blow 
it off. Without Kersh guessing."
Scully nodded, deep in thought. "Maybe we could get one of the 
gunmen..."
"I'll do it."
Skinner snorted. "I don't think they'd be too keen on going inside a 
max security prison."
She frowned. "Probably not." 
"I said, I'd do it."
They both turned to look at Mulder. 
"What did you say?"
He cleared his throat and put his fork down. "I said I'll do it. I'll 
go to Oz." He grinned. "I'll follow the Yellow Brick Road."

He looked from one to the other, waiting for them to say something. 
The silence stretched on. "What?"
Skinner stayed quiet. Scully shook her head. "Why would you..."
"Hey! You don't have to make such a big deal out of it. I just 
thought that no-one knows me there, I could get a visitor's pass and 
get inside easily."
Scully frowned, obviously thinking it over. "It might..."
"No." Skinner sat back and folded his arms. 
"Why not?" Mulder mirrored his pose. "Neither you or his sister can 
go. Scully can't. That leaves yours truly."
Skinner shook his head. "No."

Mulder sighed. "Look. I know I'm not exactly your favorite person..."
Skinner grunted. 
"But I might be your only option." He leaned forward. "Besides... I'd 
like to do it."
Skinner glared. "Why?"
Shrugging, Mulder looked down at his plate. "Can't a guy just offer 
to do a good thing without being interrogated?"
"Depends on the guy and the reason."
Mulder looked up at the sharp tone. "Ouch." He nodded. "Okay, I 
deserved that." He spread his hands. "Look. We all know I have some 
serious making-up to do...." A blush tinged his face. 
"And maybe this could be part of it. Doing something for Big Dog."
"Don't call him that."

Skinner weighed up the offer. Most of him wanted to say no. Wanted to 
tell Mulder to fuck off, they didn't need his help. Not now, not 
ever, thank you very much. But another, more sensible part had 
already agreed that it was the best solution, God help him.
He just hoped Mulder would find it in himself to be considerate when 
he told Doggett the news. And he hoped Doggett would forgive him for 
sending Mulder. 
"Okay," he said, with great reluctance.
"All right!"Mulder grinned and rubbed his hands together. "I'll get 
the Gunmen to work their ID magic and I'll just take a few days off 
sick. No problemo." He made a zipping motion with his hand. "In like 
Flynn."

Skinner reached out and grabbed the hand. He squeezed it tight, 
leaning forward. He allowed Mulder to struggle slightly, and then 
spoke in a low growl.
"You just make sure you tell him kindly. You hear me, Mulder?" 
Big hazel eyes regarded him with unease. "Uh-huh. I promise."
Giving the trapped hand one last hard pinch of his fingers, Skinner 
let go. 
He would personally rip Mulder into little pieces if he fucked this 
up.