Title : Reckoning

Author : Praetorian

Archive : Sure, fine, whatever.. Just tell me.

Spoilers : Existence

Rating : NC-17 for content.

Category : SK/Other

Summary : Does anyone else think Marita Covarrubias might be a
tad upset at Alex's untimely demise?

Feedback :  the_praetorian@hotmail.com


Disclaimer : All X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Fox,
and 1013 productions. I just made them do bizarre things.

Authors note : This follows events of 'Glimpse : One Weekend in
June' parts 1 & 2, and it isn't over yet.. There will be more to
come.



Reckoning

by Praetorian


A. D. Skinner stepped out the glass door of the gym and was
embraced by the warm spring night. He felt good, tired, but good.
Last weekend spent with Carin had put him in a fine mood. But
then again, why wouldn't it? He'd been sore and a little
scratched up when he'd returned home Sunday, but a hot soak, a
good nights sleep and he'd been a new man.

He knew that everyone from his secretary to the agents under him
wondered at the periodic change in his behavior, and they all had
their theories. He thought some of them may even be close to the
truth. Close, but not dead on. That was another benefit of
meeting Carin at the house on lake Anna. It was far enough from
D.C. to avoid any rumors. He could maintain his aloof, hard-assed
exterior, and that was just the way he liked it.

He crossed the parking lot to his blazer, letting his thoughts
wander with a smile on his face, and as he reached for the door
handle, a female voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Good evening, A.D. Skinner."

He turned to see a woman, half hidden in the shadows.

"Excuse me?" He asked, trying to place the voice that had spoken
to him.

She stepped out into the light, and he narrowed his eyes as he
recognized her face.

"Marita," he said curtly, slowly letting his hand drift to the
handle of his Sig, tucked into the waistband of his pants.

"I just wanted to give you fair warning," she said, walking
quickly across the distance that separated them.

"Oh? About what?" He slipped his hand more firmly around the butt
of his pistol, never taking his eyes off her.

"You took something away from me. I will repay," she kept walking
as she spoke, and the last sentence was almost a whisper as she
moved past him.

Skinner turned and watched her, a deep frown etched on his face.
She never looked back, and simply disappeared into the late
evening darkness.

He got into his car and cranked the engine. His good mood of the
past week was now a fading memory as he started for home. He kept
checking his rearview mirror, expecting to see someone tailing
him but no one was there.

/I will repay./

At home he headed straight for the bar and poured himself a
double shot of JB scotch. He tossed it back without hesitation,
and stared at the wall of his den, not seeing it at all.

/I will repay./

He threw the shot glass against the wall, not even caring that it
shattered, spraying his carpet with dozens of sharp fragments.

It wasn't like the little prick didn't deserve a bullet between
the eyes; Alex Krycek was nothing more than a shit stain in the
boxers of life, he deserved the bullet a long time ago.

He pulled off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose,
massaging it lightly. He had the beginnings of a monster headache
coming on. He went upstairs, and before turning in, he swallowed
four Excedrin from his medicine cabinet.


XxXxXxXxXx

He mumbled a quick greeting to Kimberly the next morning but
didn't even register her reply. He continued straight on into his
office and took off his suit coat.

The headache that plagued him last night was still present this
morning, and he couldn't give a green Goddamn about pleasantries.
Right now he couldn't give a green Goddamn about much of
anything. He sat down at his desk and checked his schedule. It
was mercifully clear, except for a couple of reviews after lunch
time.

He was about to call Kim over the intercom and ask for a cup of
coffee, when she tapped lightly on his door.

"Yes?" he barked, wincing as the sound of his own voice made his
head throb even worse.

She came in hesitantly, the sign of a smart woman, he thought to
himself; and held out a steaming cup of coffee and the days mail.

"Can I get you anything, Sir?"

"No, this is fine, Kimberly. Thank you."

She left and he took a sip from the cup, sighing as it hit the
back of his throat like a blessing. He pondered the stack of
letters and large yellow envelopes in front of him, as he drank
his coffee.

With the cup half gone, he began to open his mail. Most of it was
the usual crap, but one large envelope stood out. It had
'Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner' printed on the front and
no return address. He squeezed the thick package in his hands,
and recognized the shape of a video tape instantly.

He cautiously opened the brass wings that held the flap closed,
and shook the contents out onto his desk. Just as he thought. A
video tape. He peered inside the envelope and saw nothing else.
Not so much as a scrap of paper.

He picked up the tape and got no information from it's casing. No
label, no hint of what was on it.

Taking the last of his coffee with him, he crossed the room to a
cabinet that held a TV and VCR combo behind it's dark wooden
doors. He popped the tape into the player, and grabbed the
remote, stepping back a little, as he pressed the play button.

Static filled the nineteen inch screen in front of him, and then
it simply went black. White letters popped up all at one time.

I REPAY.

Anxiety coiled in his gut like a tightly wound spring as soon as
he read the stark message, which faded away a second later,
replaced by the view of a room. He could see the walls were rough
hewn, as the camera slowly rotated around to it's subject.

The coffee cup slipped from his fingers and spilled all over the
carpet as he stared at the TV screen.

He recognized the long blonde hair and the small, compact frame
immediately. It was Carin. Then he recognized the room, the same
bedroom he'd spent last weekend in, with the same woman.

"You fucking cunt," he swore softly, understand now what Marita
Covarrubias had meant last night.

He watched the tape, his mouth a grim hard line as Carin was
stripped of her clothing. He swallowed hard, noticing that she
never once made a sound. He could see the fear on her face, but
she never broke. It wasn't her style. She was tough, something
he'd always respected about her, but seeing it now, under these
circumstances, only made him angrier. She never cried out, never
begged for her release, even as three men approached her. Skinner
closed his eyes for a moment then forced himself to open them
again. His face was like a stone mask, as she was raped before
his eyes.

He felt a deep coldness settle into his chest as he stared at the
screen for forty-five minutes. He wanted to turn away, to close
his eyes, to not have the reality that this was happening to her,
but he wouldn't allow himself that luxury. After all, she had to
live through it; all he had to do was watch it.

He watched it all. She was sodomized, beaten, and raped again,
and each blow to her skin, each grunting thrust of her attackers
was burned into his memory with a deadly precision.

His biggest fear was that he would see her killed at the end of
the tape, but he was spared that. Instead, when her attackers
were done, and she was lying, bleeding and unconscious on her
bed, the screen went black, and once again stark white letters
flashed up.

WE ARE NOT EVEN YET.

The tape played on, showing only static now. He hit rewind with
one shaking hand, and walked over to his desk. He pressed the
intercom button and told Kimberly to clear his appointments for
the next week. He had a lot of accumulated vacation time, and an
emergency had come up. He was leaving town and wouldn't be back
for a while. She accepted this without question, and he snapped
off the intercom.

Rage was boiling in his blood, but he forced himself to remain
calm. He took his Sig from it's holster, and after looking at it
for a long moment, placed in his desk drawer. Alongside it he
placed his badge. After careful consideration, he left his ID
card clipped to his belt and pulled on his jacket. The last thing
he did before he left the office was to collect the tape from the
VCR.

XxXxXxXxXx

He went by his house long enough to change his clothing, and to
pick up his other pistol. The one with no serial number.

He sped along the highway, pushing the blazer up to ninety once
he was outside D.C. It still took him an agonizing thirty minutes
to reach lake Anna.

He pulled half-way up the drive to Carin's house, and shut off
the engine. He parked it there, and got out.

With his gun drawn, he stuck to the woods and worked his way
around to the house in an arc. He saw no cars or vehicles of any
kind in the drive, and slipped quietly up to the back door.
Taking the key down from it's hiding place above the doorjamb, he
let himself in.

The living room was untouched, not a single piece of furniture
was out of place. He moved cautiously down the hall, listening
and watching for any sign of anyone. He heard nothing. No sounds
at all.

The bedroom door is closed, and he stood by it, torn between
expecting the worst, and praying for the best. He shoved the door
open and stepped into the room, swinging his gun from corner to
corner. Only when he saw it was clear, did he look at the bed.

Carin lay on it, still tied, and unmoving.

"Carin?" he called softly, walking over to her. He reached for
her wrist, flinching at how cool it felt against his fingertips.
He found her pulse and breathed a sigh of relief.

He untied her quickly, gathering her up into his arms.

"Carin, hey? Wake up, baby... please wake up."

He patted her cheek gently, and her eyes fluttered open. She
blinked a few times, trying to focus, and when her eyes settled
on his face she screamed.

She thrashed in his stunned arms, and fell backward off the bed.
She crawled over to one corner, and huddled against the wall.

"Carin! it's me. It's Walter. It's OK. Shhh... It's ok."

She didn't turn toward the sound of his voice. Instead she looked
about the room, her eyes searching every corner, every shadow for
the next assault.

He walked over to her, his heart breaking as she tried to scoot
further back away from his presence.

"It's me Carin, it's ok. I promise. Shhh.. Settle down. You're ok
now. I'm here."

He said everything that came to his mind, every thing he thought
might comfort her. None of it seemed to break through the thick
fog of her nightmare.

He stopped a few feet away from her and knelt down. He snapped
his fingers a few times in front of her face, and she turned
toward the sound. Her eyes settled on him, but there was no
recognition.

"Carin, come on. Come back to me. Please..." His voice cracked as
he spoke to her. He couldn't stand the thought of her shying away
from his touch. Not Carin. She never backed down from him, not
for one second.

Her eyes cleared and locked with his. Her mouth worked, trying to
form a word, but all that came out was a short gasping sound. She
raised one trembling hand and pointed her fingers to her mouth.

"Water! Hold on."

He ran down the hall into the kitchen and grabbed a small glass
from the shelf. He filled it from the tap and raced back to the
bedroom, reminding himself to slow down at the door and not scare
her.

He squatted down, and held the glass out. She took it, her hands
still shaking and drained it three long gulps.

"Easy, easy.. Slow down," he said softly.

"Wal... Walter."

He smiled gently, and held out his arms to her.

She glanced around the room one more time before crawling over to
him. He pulled her tight against his body, trying to be careful
of the bruises and pain that he knew she must be feeling.

"Wh.. Why?"

"Shhh... Not now, sweetheart. Not now. We need to get out of
here. OK? I'm going to wrap you up and carry you out to my car.
We need to go. Now. Understand?" he whispered urgently.

He was relieved when she simply nodded, and he snagged the
comforter from the bed, wrapping it around her naked body. He
scooped her up in his arms, and retraced his steps out to his
blazer. He wouldn't feel safe until he had her back in D.C. She
needed a doctor, and he knew that, but he couldn't take her to a
hospital.

He raced along the lake drive, and spun back out onto the
highway. He breathed a little easier then, and glanced over at
her. She looked pale and weak, hiding deep inside the down
comforter that was stained by her own blood.

He reached his hand to her and she took it, squeezing it harder
than he thought she could.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said softly.

He whipped over just in time for her to open the door and vomit
onto the roadside. After a minute she spat and closed the car
door again.

He pulled back onto the road and floored it, watching his
rearview mirror almost as much as he watched the road in front of
him. He didn't trust that *bitch* Marita not be following him.

Carin didn't speak another word until after he'd pulled into the
parking garage of his apartment building. He pulled up next to
the elevator, and got out of the truck. He came around and opened
her door, reaching in to pick her up.

"I can walk."

"No, you can't. Not right now. Just let me carry you, ok?"

He didn't wait for an answer, lifting her out of the truck and
covering her completely with the ruined comforter. He kicked the
door shut with his foot and jabbed the up button next to the
elevator door.

Luck was with him, and he passed none of his neighbors as he made
his way to the seventeenth floor and sat Carin down long enough
to unlock the door. He pushed it open and walked her inside
before shutting, and locking the door behind them. He carried her
straight up to his bedroom and set her down gently on his king
sized bed.

He let out a slow breath as he unwrapped her from the comforter.

"We're safe now. It's ok," he said, resting his palm against her
swollen cheek.

"I need a bath, and something to wear," Carin said, twisting away
from his touch.

The small action hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

"You need a doctor, and I'm going to call one. You can't clean up
till she looks at you, ok?"

Carin nodded mutely. She was a police officer, and she knew the
drill just as well as he did.

Skinner pulled a long tee shirt from his dresser drawer and held
it out to her. He winced inside as he saw how tenderly she had to
move just to put it on.

He picked up the phone and punched in Agent Scully's number.


XxXxXxXxXx



He didn't explain the situation over the phone, he just simply
asked that she come over immediately. It didn't take much
convincing for her to agree. He coaxed Carin into laying down to
rest while he went downstairs to wait for Scully.

He opened the door quickly when she knocked, somewhat surprised
to see Mulder standing behind her. He motioned them inside
impatiently and shut the door again.

"Sir, what's going on?" Scully asked, a little surprised by his
abrupt actions.

"I need your help, Scully. And I need it as a friend, not as your
superior."

"With what?" she asked.

"I have a friend upstairs that I need you to examine, as a
doctor. Will you do it, and keep it quiet?"

Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance.

"Look," Skinner said, getting irritated, "I stuck my neck out for
both of you many times, all I'm asking is for a favor in return."

"Sure, let me get my bag, it's in the car," Scully left, still
looking puzzled.

"Walter, what's going on?" Mulder asked, as soon as they were
alone.

"An old acquaintance of ours decided she owed me a little
payback, so she took it out on... someone close to me."

"What are you talking about?"

Skinner sighed and rubbed one hand over his scalp.

"Last night I was coming out of the gym and Marita Covarrubias
came up to me. She said that I'd taken something from her, and
that she would repay. Well, she did. She... There's someone I've
been seeing for the past four years, a woman in Richmond. She had
her.. assaulted, and sent me the video tape from it this
morning."

Mulder was quiet and had a strained look on his face.

"You need to turn this over to the police, or the bureau,
Walter."

"I can't do that. Because if I do, there are certain things which
will come to light, that neither one of us wants known. Like the
whereabouts of one Alex Krycek," he hissed.

Scully tapped on the door then and Skinner opened it for her, she
carried a small black bag in her hand.

"Where is your friend?"

"She's upstairs, Scully. And she's in.. pretty bad shape. I'll go
up with you. Mulder, stay here."

Skinner led Scully up the stairs to his bedroom, where Carin lay.

"What happened to her?" Scully asked softly.

"She's been raped, beaten.  She's.. Can you do anything for her?"

"Sir, she needs to go to a hospital. I do have a rape kit, for
the evidence that needs to be collected, but..."

"You don't need to collect evidence, Scully. We already know who
is responsible. Just.. Examine her, tell me she's going to be all
right."

Scully's eyes narrowed as she looked at Skinner, and he suddenly
realized what was going through her mind.

"Oh, please... Don't even think it!" he growled with a look of
revulsion. He walked past her and sat down gently on the side of
the bed.

"Carin? Wake up baby." he said, touching her arm.

She stirred, and sat up slowly, eyeing Scully with suspicion.

"This is Dana Scully, she's a friend of mine, and she's a doctor.
She's going to examine you, make sure you're ok," he took her
hand as he spoke, stroking the back of it. "Do you want me to
stay, or to leave?"

"Go," Carin said, blushing slightly.

He nodded and walked to the door.

"I'm just downstairs if you need me, ok?"

They both nodded, and he reluctantly went back down to his living
room.

"Are you sure it was Marita?" Mulder asked.

Skinner pulled the video tape from the top of his bookshelf and
held it out to Mulder.

"That's what she sent me. If you want to see what's on it, I'd
just as soon go out and admire the view from my balcony."

Mulder nodded, understanding, and Skinner went out the sliding
door. Ten minutes later Mulder joined him.

"You obviously didn't watch the entire tape," Skinner commented.

"Obviously," Mulder answered, looking a little pale.

"If I knew where she was..." Skinner said, clenching his large
hands into fists.

"That's not the problem. The problem is; does she know where you
two are?"

Skinner's head turned quickly to stare at Mulder.

He hadn't even considered it, but he may have played right into
Marita's plans. All he had thought about was getting Carin out of
there, and to somewhere safe. He had come here, to home, and that
may have been a mistake.

"At the end it says 'we are not yet even'" Skinner said.

"Walter, as a friend, you *really* need to turn this over to the
bureau. You're too close, and we really don't know what Marita
might be capable of."

"Mulder, if I do that.. We could both end up on charges. Do you
want that? I know I sure as hell don't. Not for a piece of shit
like Alex Krycek."

"No, but there was someone else there, someone else who can look
into it, and be damn careful about it too. Someone else who would
be just as implicated as you and I, if it were ever brought out."

"Doggett," Skinner nodded thoughtfully.

Mulder nodded, "Meanwhile, I'd suggest that you and.. "

"Carin," Skinner supplied.

"Disappear for a while. She'll need some time to pull herself
together. Get away for a few weeks."

Skinner nodded, thinking it over.


XxXxXxXxXx


Scully came down the stairs and took a seat on the couch in the
living room, where Mulder and Skinner had adjourned.

"Well?" Skinner asked anxiously.

"I still say she needs to be a hospital, but she seems as
reluctant about it as you do. And, favor or no favor, I think I
have a right to know what the hell this all about.. Sir," she
added the last in a softer tone.

Skinner told her the details about his conversation with Marita
last night, and the video tape he'd received that morning.

"It never ends, does it?" she said quietly, when he had finished.

Skinner said nothing, and Mulder spoke up, telling Scully about
his ideas of involving Doggett to investigate the attack, and
Skinner taking some time off. She agreed with him entirely.

"And even though you said otherwise, I did use the rape kit. She
consented to it," Scully said.

"It was probably a wise move, all things considered," Skinner
agreed. "Where is she now?"

"Taking a shower. She was anxious to get cleaned up, and I can't
blame her."

"I should go check on her, make sure she's ok," Skinner said,
rising from his chair.

"Sir, with all due respect, give her plenty of space if she needs
it," Scully said gently.

"I will. Carin doesn't take any crap from me. She'll rack my
balls in a heartbeat. That's why we've always gotten along. She's
no push-over."

They rose to leave, and Skinner stopped Scully at the door.

"Thank you, I... really appreciate your help."

"I'll turn the evidence over to Doggett," she replied casually.

"Along with the tape," Mulder added, holding it up in his hand.

Skinner nodded, not knowing what else to say.

After they were gone, he went upstairs. He could hear the shower
running, and he wanted to knock on the door, to ask if she was
all right, but he didn't want to seem pushy or overbearing.

He saw the filthy comforter laying on the floor by his bed, and
his stomach clenched as he had a sudden memory of the video tape.
He snatched it up in his hand and carried it down to the kitchen.
He yanked a plastic garbage bag from the box in the pantry and
shoved the offending object into it. He tied the top closed and
debated on taking it down to the incinerator. Instead he shoved
it in the back corner of his hall closet. It was evidence.

He walked back up to the bedroom, and heard the shower had
stopped. He tapped lightly on the door and opened it slowly.

Carin was sitting on the side of the tub, wrapped in a towel.

"You ok?" he asked, knowing it sounded lame as hell.

"I'm great. Just great, thank you for asking," she snapped before
bursting into tears.

He suddenly felt awkward around her. He was leaning against the
wall, directly across from where she sat crying. He slid down
until he was sitting on the floor and took his glasses off. He
would have given anything to take this pain and humiliation from
her. It was, after all, his fault. He would have to tell her that
one day. He'd have to explain.

"What can I do?" he asked in a near whisper.

"I don't know," she said raggedly, "I don't know what *I* can do.
I don't know anything right now."

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Exhausted is more like it," she answered, drying her eyes with
the edge of the towel.

"I want to lay down with you, put my arms around you and let you
sleep. Would that.. be ok?"

She nodded, and he stood up, holding his hand out to her. She
picked up the tee shirt he'd given her earlier, and slipped into
it quickly. He had to look away as she did, but not before he
caught sight of the bruises, now darkening against her skin. She
took his hand then, and he led her to his bed.

He turned down the covers, and tucked her in before going around
to the other side. He slipped in between the sheets, and held his
arms open. Carin slid close to him, laying her head on his chest.
He enveloped her, tracing his fingers along the line of her
shoulder. He wanted to hold her tight, as he had done so many
times before, but he was afraid to.

Nothing was the same anymore.

Reckoning : Miles to go

by Praetorian



Skinner woke up before Carin did, and lay there for a while,
watching her sleep and thinking about the events of yesterday. As
the morning light begin to filter in through the blinds, he
slipped out of bed and crept downstairs..

In the kitchen he put on coffee and considered what to do next.
Inconsequential as it sounded, the first thing he had to do was
get her some clothes. After that, he knew he should take Mulder's
advice and get out of D.C. for a while.

Marita Covarrubias had been worked with both C.G.B. Spender, and
Krycek for years. Who knew what else she had in mind as revenge
against him. An outright attack on himself, he could have
handled; the brutal assault against Carin had enraged him, but
Marita knew that it would. This was a head game as much as it was
anything else. The verbal warning and the video tape were proof
of that.

/WE ARE NOT EVEN YET./

The words from the end of the tape came back to him now, and he
clenched his hands into fists. She wouldn't come after him
directly to balance the score, she'd go after Carin again because
he had reacted to it. Because she had found a chink in his armor,
a nerve that could be played for effect.

Carin was someone close to him, the closest thing he had to a
relationship, and it had been four years of just sex. No
delusions of love, no commitments, just the fulfillment of a
basic human need when it could no longer be ignored. She had
become his friend, someone he looked forward to spending time
with, and for her involvement with him she had paid a heavy
price. Her dignity, her safety, and part of her soul had been
stripped away at a whim. What had this done to the Carin that he
knew; would she still be the same?

With that question still on his mind, he filled two cups with
coffee and went back upstairs.

She lay on her side, still sleeping, and he sat down on the edge
of the bed next to her. He put one cup down on the nightstand,
and brushed a strand of blonde hair back from her cheek. Hidden
underneath it was a dark smudge against her jaw. A bruise. One of
many that covered her body. He remembered turning his eyes away
from her last night in the bathroom, as she had put on one of
his tee shirts to sleep in. The erratic pattern of bruises across
her back and ribs had sickened him, just as this one did now.

He swore to himself, and traced his thumb over the dark spot that
marred her skin. Bruises would fade over time, what he really
worried about were the scars that couldn't be seen.

"Carin," he said softly, "wake up."

She opened her eyes and blinked at him for a second before
stretching, wincing as she moved.

"What time is it?" she asked, sitting up and accepting the cup
from his hand.

"A little after seven. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.

"I'm going to shower and then I need to go out and get you some
clothes, is there anything else you need?"

"No, just something to wear home," she said.

Skinner stared at her, stunned.

"You're not going to let me go home, are you?" she asked, her
eyes locking with his.

He shook his head, and tension flared in the confines of the
room. He knew he had to say something.

"Carin..." he began, having no idea what to say next.

"I know," she whispered.

For the first time since he'd known her, her expression was
unreadable. Her face was carefully composed.

"I think," she started, then cleared her throat, "I think part of
their plan was for me to hate you."

He gritted his teeth. He'd wondered if they had told her it was
about him.

"You have every right to," he said quietly.

"I don't. But I am confused. The blonde woman, she told me,"
Carin paused and laughed bitterly. "She actually apologized and
said it was nothing personal, but that you had to be hurt, and I
was probably the best way to do that. She didn't tell me why
though. Are you going to?"

Skinner began hesitantly, "I killed her lover, I shot him. He
would have killed a friend of mine. He hurt a lot of people in
the past, and would have hurt many more."

"So why didn't she just kill me then?"

"Because Marita likes to play mind games. So did Alex, the man I
shot. Killing you would have been too easy. So, she... had this
done and sent me a video tape of it."

"You saw it all?" her face paled as she spoke.

He nodded, feeling guilt and shame war inside him. If she had
never been involved with him in the first place...

Carin drew her knees up to her chest. resting her cheek against
her kneecap. The gesture made her look small and frail in his
eyes.

"So, what do we do now?"

"To be safe, we get out of D.C. for a while, take some time to
let you heal. I've got an unofficial investigation going on it,
but I'm not sure it will do much good. Once you're well, we go
from there."

"You don't think it's over, do you?"

"No, at the end of the tape were the words 'We are still not
even'. She's got something else in store for me," he answered.

She said nothing, and her silence tore at him.

"I'm sorry, Carin. More sorry than I can ever say."

"You didn't do it, Walt. It makes me ashamed that you saw what
happened, but you were not directly responsible for it."

"Keyword being directly," he ground out angrily. "You didn't
deserve this, and if you had never met me it wouldn't have
happened."

"And if wishes were fishes, beggars would eat. What difference
does it make now? It's the past. Time to deal with it and move
on. I need to use your phone. If we're going out of town for a
while, I need to make arrangements at work."

He nodded and walked across the bedroom to retrieve his cordless
phone. He handed it to her wordlessly, and started toward the
bathroom to shower.

"Don't forget to have someone feed Jigger," he called over his
shoulder.

"No, Jigger is dead. They shot him when they stopped me at the
end of the driveway."

His steps faltered for a moment, but he said nothing in reply;
feeling a fresh tinge of anger rise up inside him.

He had given her the mongrel pup a few years ago. He'd stopped
for gas on his way to meet her at the lake, and the pups were
being given away. He'd seen them, and on impulse, taken one. He'd
driven to the lake house with the little mutt tucked inside his
shirt, and Carin had been overjoyed by the gift. He remembered
the way she had smiled and held the wriggling furry mass in her
arms.

He turned on the shower, setting the water to as hot as he could
stand it and got in.

XxXxXxXxXx

Skinner learned something strange that day. He hated shopping for
himself, but shopping for someone else was actually enjoyable.
Carin had written down her sizes for him, and he'd blushed like
hell when we asked the saleslady at Sears for help, but the whole
thing turned out to be kind of fun.

When he let himself back in his apartment, hours later, he was
loaded down with shopping bags. He set them down in the living
room.

"Either you're a closet shopper, or you lost the size list." she
stated with a grin when she saw all the parcels.

"Well, I didn't lose the size list."

"Jeeze, Walt, what all did you get?"

"Everything I could think of," he shrugged, watching her sit down
on the floor and start opening bags.

He sat on the couch, just behind her and hid a smile as she
examined each of his purchases.

"OK, now I have a new wardrobe for the next year," she laughed
lightly, glancing back at him. The sound was music to his ears.

"Anything happen while I was gone?"

She leaned back, resting against his shins, and he was surprised
at the contact. She'd flinched away from his touch yesterday, and
it had hurt him more deeply then he thought it could.

"Yes, Dana Scully came by to check on me, and we talked for a
long time. She's really nice. She gave me some pain pills, in
case I should need them, and said to have you call her later."

"I'll call her. What did you two talk about?"

When she didn't answer right away he started to say 'never mind',
but then she spoke, hesitantly.

"We talked about dealing with things. She's been through some
rough shit herself, so she kind of understands how I feel." Her
voice changed then, brightening, "She had her little boy with
her, William, he's so cute."

Skinner snorted, "Yeah, except for the nose on him, just like his
dad's."

Carin elbowed his knee sharply, "That was mean," she chided.

"Ow! So was that," he chuckled. For a second it felt normal. This
was the Carin that he knew, his friend. The one who would not
hesitate to knock him on his ass.

"Cry me a river, you big baby," she cracked at him.

But it wasn't normal. If all things were right, he'd have picked
her up at that point and kissed her, just to make her shut up. Or
tickled her until she screamed. But he held back, feeling awkward
and nostalgic for the way they used to act with each other.

"Think you'll feel like leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yeah, but where are we going?"

"I've got a couple of ideas, but I haven't decided yet," he
answered, looking down at her thoughtfully. He wanted to touch
her; it had been an almost unbearable urge ever since she'd
leaned back against his legs. He hesitated, then reached down and
placed his hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her
neck.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked casually, waiting to see
if she would draw away from him. When she didn't, he began to
gently massage her shoulder. She didn't answer his question, so
he repeated it.

"Where would you like to go?"

She turned to face him and her blue eyes were bright, wet with
tears that were barely restrained.

"Somewhere safe," she whispered, and the statement twisted his
heart in his chest, "Somewhere where I can forget. Where we both
can forget." The facade crumbled and the tears slipped down her
cheeks.

He leaned forward quickly, and wrapped his arms around her small
frame. She turned and embraced him, burying her face against his
chest, her arms winding up around his neck.

"Shhh... It's ok, you're safe now," he promised as she cried
against him, "It's ok."


XxXxXxXxXx

After she was calm she went upstairs 'to put her things away' she
said. Skinner thought she just needed a few minutes to herself.
He picked up his phone and dialed a number.

He hadn't spoken to David 'Hutch' Hutchinson in a while, but his
old college buddy sounded just the same. He was more than glad to
loan Skinner the use of his house, and said he would arrange for
someone to meet them in Houma.

When he hung up with Hutch, he called Scully.

They talked for several minutes, Scully warning him about signs
and symptoms of trouble on a physical level. He asked her what he
could do to best help Carin on a psychological level.

"She needs counseling, sir. But under the circumstances, you're
going to have to be her support system. You can't understand what
she feels, but you can listen if she talks."

He understood how she felt, more than he wanted to. They thought
alike in many ways. All he had to do was imagine himself in her
position and the fear, the insecurity, and anger all boiled to
the surface. When he put himself in her place and the emotions
surged up inside him, he had trouble keeping them in. He wondered
how she managed it, and if one day it would simply erupt.

She smiled little that night, and he was silent out of an awkward
sense of respect. He was trying to let her set the pace of
things.  Upstairs in his bedroom, they packed for the trip and he
told her where they were going.

"Have you ever been to Louisiana?" he asked, as he snapped the
latch on his duffel bag.

"Nope."

"I went to college in Texas, and a good friend I made there was
from Louisiana. He has a house on Bayou Cane, that's where we're
going."

"What's it like?" she asked.

"It's beautiful. I spent spring break there my freshman year. I
think you'll like it."


When they went to bed that night, he was careful to give her
space. When she finally turned toward him, and lay her head on
his out-stretched arm, he breathed a little easier. He pulled her
closer and let his hand rest on her back as they drifted off to
sleep.


XxXxXxXxXx


Skinner rented a jeep at the New Orleans airport. They drove the
forty miles to Houma with the windows open and the tang of the
salt marsh drifting in.

The flight from DC to New Orleans had been short, but
uncomfortable for both of them. The bruises on Carin's face were
highly viable. They earned her pitying looks from the
stewardesses and passengers; while he got a lot of cold, hard
stares.

"I think I understand why you wanted us to be in the middle of
no-where," she spoke up suddenly once they were on the highway.

"I wasn't counting on all the stares, sorry," he apologized.

"You drew just as much attention as I did. Guess everyone was
jumping to the wrong conclusions."

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. He had known exactly
what they were thinking. 'Look what that big bastard did to her.'
Problem was, they were at least half right by his estimation.

In Houma she waited in the car while he went into the garage of a
local gas station to meet Hutch's handyman. He came back out with
the key and they went on to the bayou house.

As they turned off the main road onto a gravel drive he said,
"This may have been a bad idea, Hutch's hired man said he hadn't
been out here to do the repairs on the place, so it might have a
few problems."

"Like?" Carin asked.

"He didn't elaborate, so I'm expecting the worst."

When they pulled up in front of the house, all he could do was
mutter, "oh shit," while Carin just sat there staring.

It really wasn't that bad, he told himself, but the place
definitely needed a little work. The screen door hung by one
rusty hinge, and the screen itself was torn in several places.
They got out of the jeep and he noticed the limbs and branches
that covered the roof, gave the house its decrepit look. The
limbs, the branches, the peeling paint, the broken window all
gave the house its decrepit look.

"Do we want to venture inside?" Carin asked.

"I'll go first," he said, stepping in front of her.

They walked up the rickety steps, and he pulled on the screen
door, which promptly came off in his hand. He stared at it,
fighting the urge to break it over his knee, while Carin started
giggling.

He spun around and glared at her.

"What?" he asked innocently.

She didn't answer, only pointing at the door in his hand, and
laughing harder. A slow grin spread over his face as he watched
her. He had a pretty good idea how ridiculous he looked at that
moment, but it didn't matter. Not if this was the result.

"When ever you are ready, we'll go inside," he said with a
sternness he didn't feel. She collected her composure, and made a
grand 'after you' gesture.

Once inside it looked a hell of a lot better, a little dusty, but
a lot like Skinner remembered it. It was rustic, homey, and
comfortable.

"Come see this," he said, leading her through the house to the
over-sized deck that stretched out behind it.

The deck hung right out over the black water of the bayou, and
all around were huge cypress trees. Even in mid day, their
shadows covered the house and kept it cool.

"It is pretty," she said distantly, standing near the rail and
looking out at the flat surface of the water.

He left her standing there, and went out to get their bags from
the car. On his way back, he stopped by the side of the house and
flipped the switches in the breaker box.

He came in and dropped both their bags in one bedroom, before
moving on through the house. The fridge was humming, and the
lights were all working. Satisfied that everything was all right,
he went out to find her.

She stood in the exact same spot, not having moved at all.

"Are you ok?"

"Fine," she answered without turning around.

'Sure you are', he thought, 'and I'm the Pope.'

He wished she wouldn't withdraw like this. He wished that she
would just say whatever was on her mind. He wished, he wished, he
wished.

"It's just going to take time," he said to the empty walls of the
living room. As much as he wanted, he couldn't make her forget
overnight.

XxXxXxXxXx


They made a trip into town, to buy groceries, even though he had
to talk her into going. She seemed depressed, and didn't speak
much. On the way back to the house, he tried to get her to talk.

"Something's wrong, tell me what it is."

"Just thinking," she answered, looking out the window rather than
at him.

He let it drop and they drove the rest of the way in silence. As
they pulled up at the house, he asked her, "Is it being here? At
a house on a lake?"

She shook her head.

"Is it me?"

Another shake.

"Then what is it?" he sighed in exasperation.

"It's me! It's everything! It's nothing!" she yelled at him
before leaping out of the jeep and slamming the door. She grabbed
two bags of groceries, and stalked off toward the house. He took
his time collecting the other two bags and following her in. She
was in the kitchen, putting the food away. He sat the bags down
on the counter.

"I'm sorry, Carin," he said softly.

She spun around to face him.

"And for God's sake, stop saying that all the damn time!"

He walked out of the kitchen while he still had his temper in
check. He moved restlessly through the house, looking for
something to do. Finally, to give them both some space, he went
out to the front porch and set out to fix the broken screen door.

He found some tools in a shed behind the house, and started to
work. It felt good to be fixing something, maybe because there
was so much he couldn't repair. It was warm outside, and before
long he stripped off his shirt, hanging it on a nail on the
porch. Just as he finished re-hanging the door, Carin came out,
carrying a can of beer.

"Peace offering?" she asked, holding the can out to him. He used
his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead before answering her.

"You don't have to make peace, but I'll take it because I'm
thirsty."

"I do have to make peace. I bit your head off, and I had no
reason to," she said, sitting down on the steps and plucking a
blade of grass between her fingers.

"It's ok," he said, sitting down next to her, and opening the
beer.

"No, it's not ok, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Yes you do, and so do I. You went through something that a lot
of people couldn't have handled with this much grave and courage.
You are traumatized, in the truest sense of the word. You are a
strong and independent person, you've always held your own.
Control over your life was taken away in the blink of an eye, and
at times you doubt it will ever come back again. And frankly,
that scares the shit out of you; losing control of your life."

She looked up at his face, and nodded.

"I'm glad you understand," she said softly.

"I wish I didn't understand, but I do, more than you know. Who
ever told you that only women can be raped?"



end


Reckoning 3 : Hard Healing

by Praetorian



He regretted it as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but
he couldn't pull them back. Carin's face tilted up to look at him
quizzically, before her eyebrows rose in understanding.

"You're shitting me," she said in the deepening twilight.

"No, I'm not."

"You? Jesus, that's hard to believe."

"Why? Because I'm a guy?"

"No," she answered, "But you are a *big* guy."

"Doesn't matter, does it? You're a woman I wouldn't want
seriously ticked off at me, but it happened to you, didn't it?"

She nodded, without comment.

"How did it happen?" she asked after few heartbeats had passed.

"I was in high school, and I always hung out with the older guys.
I ended up at a college party I should have never been at; got
drunk. I woke up face down on a bed with my pants around my
knees and someone of laying on top of me."

"What did you do?"

"I broke his jaw. No one ever knew, not until now. I was married
for seventeen years, and not even my wife knew about it. It's
hard to talk about, even now. I went through a phase after that
where I pretty much stayed in trouble. A *lot* of fights, and I
was screwing every woman who would give me a second glance. Guess
I was trying to prove that I was still a man. I ended up going
into the Marines, thinking that would prove my manhood," he
chuckled. He drained his beer, and they sat for a few more
minutes.

"Did you feel filthy all the time; after it happened?"

He nodded, crushing the empty can in his hand.

"I was the cleanest guy in the world for a long time there. I
showered four or five times a day."

"I catch myself washing my hands a lot, or wiping them on my
jeans."

"It sounds like a cliche, but I can tell you honestly that it
gets better with time.

"Yeah, but how much does time does it take?"

That he couldn't answer, so he didn't try. They went inside, and
he cleaned up while Carin made dinner. When he came out of the
bathroom, he noticed immediately that her bag was not sitting on
the bed next to his. He checked the closet, and the small
dresser, but none of her clothes were there.

He dressed, puzzling over where she had put her stuff, and as he
walked down the hall, he saw it. Her bag was sitting in the
bedroom opposite his. He stopped and stared for a second, letting
the implication sink into his mind.

'Guess I shouldn't have told her,' he thought bitterly,
continuing on to the living room.

He never was good at opening up to people, and whenever he tried
the result always seemed to backfire on him; like now. She
wouldn't sleep next to him because of something that happened
years ago in his past. 'Try a little irony, Walter,' he thought,
'it's good for the blood.'

The evening passed slowly for both of them, she acted reserved,
and he said little, but a lot of questions swirled in his mind.
Around ten she said goodnight, and surprised him by hugging him
before she went down the hall to her room. She offered no
explanation as to why she had taken the other room, and he
refused to ask. He was pretty sure he knew why.

He turned in shortly after that, but sleep was a long time
coming.

XxXxXxXxXx


A steady tension began to build between them over the next few
days. It was a polite, strained silence, that grated on his
nerves. The guilt over the attack, and the urge to protect her
were still strong, but the uneasiness left him feeling torn in
different directions. Being idle didn't help his state of mind
either, so he decided to work around the outside of the house. It
would give him something to do, and respect her obvious wish to
be away from him.

The next day, he started on the rickety steps that lead to the
front porch. Dressed in cut-off denim shorts, and a Houston
Astros ball cap, he hauled lumber from the tool shed and tore
down the old steps, figuring it would just be easier to make a
new set. The old ones were too far gone.

The sun felt good on his bare back as he worked, and anything
productive at this point made him feel better, more useful. Just
after noon Carin had to call him several times to be heard over
the whine of a circular saw.

He looked up to see her standing on the porch, and turned off the
noisy tool.

"Are you going to take a lunch break?" she asked.

He shrugged, "hadn't thought about it," he answered.

"Come on. I know you're hot, come inside and cool off for a
while."

He wasn't really hungry, but a glance at his watch showed he'd
been out here for four hours. It would be nice to rest for a few
minutes. He put down the saw and walked toward the door, brushing
small chips of wood and sawdust from his arms and chest.

Grabbing the door frame he hauled himself up onto the porch.

"You're filthy, and you look like you having too much fun,"
Carin grinned at him.

"It feels good to be doing something useful."

"Hold still a second," she said, brushing off his back and
shoulders. "I'll make some sandwiches for lunch; sound ok?"

"Fine," he said quietly, enjoying the feel of her hands against
his bare, sun-warmed skin. He was surprised to realize how much
he had missed it.

The cool dimness of the house felt wonderful after the heat of
the early summer day. He sat down at the kitchen table, watching
her move around the kitchen. Her bruises were almost gone now, he
noticed, as she handed him a cold glass of tea.

"You're looking a lot better," he said.

"Thanks, I'm feeling better, still a little sore though."

"Good," he answered, watching her over the rim of his glass.

"Are you ok, Walt?" she asked suddenly, glancing over her
shoulder at him.

"Fine, why do you ask?"

"You just seem distant lately, I wondered if you were all right."

"I don't think I'm the only one that's been acting distant," he
said without thinking. 'Way to go, just blurt out what's on your
mind here, buddy,' he admonished himself.

"Probably not. I know I haven't been acting like myself. But I
haven't been feeling like myself, either," she countered.

"Is that why you took the other bedroom?"

"Not exactly," she hedged, her back to him.

"Was it because of what I told you the other night?"

"Not exactly."

Skinner gritted his teeth, Carin had always been direct with
him, open and honest, even to a fault. This cat and mouse crap
was not something they'd ever done, and he didn't care for it.

"Then what is it?"

She turned around, handing him a plate with two sandwiches on it,
and sat down at the table.

"I felt like I was clinging to you, becoming to dependant. I just
thought I'd better get used to sleeping alone again."

Something in that statement didn't sit well with him. It was too
smooth, or maybe it was the fact that she didn't look him in the
eye when she spoke. He didn't say anything else, he finished his
lunch and went back outside.

XxXxXxXxXx

He stood on the deck later that evening, the wind had picked up
and the dark clouds rolling in from the sea were ominous. A storm
was coming, a bad one by the looks of it. Carin came out a few
minutes later and looked up at the dark sky.

"Look at those clouds," she said casually.

"We are definitely in for some rain," he agreed.

"Want to sit in the living room and watch it?"

It was something they'd done a few times at the house on Lake
Anna. They'd sit in the living room and listen to the rain fall;
or watch the bright streaks of lightning that would cut the sky.

"Sure."

It hit about forty-five minutes later with a vengeance. The wind
howled around the outside of the house, and the calm swampy water
of the bayou whipped into white caps that broke over there edge
of the deck. Bright flashes of lightning illuminated the
darkness, intermittent by deep peals of thunder. It wasn't long
before the power flickered out.

"Stay here," he said, rising from the couch and walking slowly
back to his bedroom. He had somewhat expected this, and a short
while ago he'd put a flashlight in easy reach by the door.

He flipped it on, and made his way back to the living room, just
as Carin returned with some candles from the kitchen.

"I found these in one of the cabinets the other day," she said,
setting them on the coffee table and opening a paper matchbook.

She lit the candles, casting a dim glow around them, and he
snapped off the flashlight to save the batteries.

"Wonder how long it'll be out?" she said softly.

"No idea, I wouldn't expect it back till tomorrow."

He turned to say something more to her and was struck by the
sight of her face, illuminated in the candle light. She looked up
a second later, as if feeling his gaze upon her skin. Maybe it
was the expression on his face, but she smiled softly and reached
up to touch his cheek. The tenderness of the simple gesture moved
him, and he turned his face toward her hand, brushing his lips
against her palm. Something broke inside both of them and they
drew together instantly. He pulled her into his arms, and she
slid over onto his lap. His lips brushed along the gentle curve
of her neck, as her small hands traced the line of his shoulders.

Her lips found his and they kissed deeply, tongues moving against
each other in a slow, sensual motion that left them both feeling
breathless and overheated. He rested one hand against her hip, as
the kiss deepened further, drowning out the old storm in favor of
the new one.

They broke apart, breathing deeply of the laden air around them,
and her hands slid across his chest; her thumbs brushing against
the tiny hardness of his nipples. He pulled her to him again, his
mouth closing over hers desperately.

'What the fuck are you doing, you asshole?' his mind suddenly
screamed at him. 'This is wrong! Wrong! Wrong!'

He pulled back abruptly, yanking his hands away from her skin as
if she had burned him.  He shifted her off his lap, and got to
his feet and backing away.

"I'm Sorry.. I... I.." he mumbled, stumbling, unsure of what to
say, but she was gone. He heard the slam of her bedroom door a
second later, and closed his eyes with a wince.


XxXxXxXxXx


He was up on the roof the next day, nailing back a few shingles
that had been torn loose by last nights storm. In truth, he was
just keeping himself busy. It was something to do, and he had
never been a man to just sit around.

Straddling the peak of the roof, a leather tool belt buckled
around his hips, he was able to keep his mind off Carin and the
fiasco of last night. It had only been a week since her attack,
and he'd turned into a horny school kid, pawing all over her at
the first opportunity.

He'd gotten up early and driven into town; picking up some
roofing supplies from the local hardware store. On impulse, he'd
also stopped by the liqueur store on his way home and picked up a
bottle of Jose' Quervo Gold. He normally wasn't a tequila
drinker, but the only Scotch they looked as if it had been
bottled in the backroom of the store.


"So tell me," her voice called from the ground below him,
startling him in mid swing of the hammer, "Is it just that you've
been possessed by Tim Taylor, or do you have a secret agenda to
turn this into your retirement spot?"

The hammer struck a glancing blow off the side of his thumb, and
he swore loudly.

"Was that a yes, or a no?"

"I just figured while we were here, and since Hutch was nice
enough to let me use the place, I may as well do a few repairs,"
he answered, shaking his hand.

"OK, because my third idea was that you're trying to avoid me,"
she said, holding up one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"Well, that too," he muttered under his breath.

"Need something cold to drink?"

"Yeah, it's not exactly air conditioned up here."

"I'll get something for you, but you'll have to come down. I
don't mix well with ladders."

By the time he reached the ground, she was on the porch with a
tall frosty glass of iced tea.

"Thank you," he sighed, draining most of it in one swallow.

"You're really getting tanned too, have you noticed?" she asked,
pointing to his bare chest.

"Yeah," he shrugged, "but I like the work."

"Walt, did you ever wonder if you made the right choice? As far
as your career goes?"

"Sometimes," he answered, looking down at her. "If I could live
another life, it would be a lot simpler. A lot of hard, outdoor
work; just like this. I like it. I like working with my hands."

"Yeah, you always were good with your hands."

He felt a blush tint his cheeks, and knew it was time to go back
up on the roof.

"I've got to finish this," he said quickly, gesturing toward the
ceiling above them. He handed the empty glass back to her, almost
but not quite flinching at the contact when her fingers closed
over his.



end

Reckoning 4 : Slow Heat

by Praetorian


It was hot. Not just hot, but sticky, humid hot. Skinner rolled
out of his bed and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Twelve
thirteen it displayed cheerfully. He sighed and rubbed one hand
across his face. He had been tossing and turning for more than
two hours now and sleep was still a distant hope, at best. He got
up, dressed only in a pair of thin black shorts, and walked
through the house to the backdoor. He wasn't surprised to see
Carin sitting on the dock in her nightshirt, hanging her feet in
the water.

"Can't sleep either?" he asked softly.

"No, it's too hot," she said, glancing up at him.

"Tell me about it," he grumbled, sitting down next to her and
dipping his feet into the cool water of the bayou. The full moon
above cast a perfect duplicate of itself on the smooth, still
surface.

"Walt, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are you uncomfortable around me because of what happened?"

"I'm not uncomfortable around you," he said quickly, too quickly.

"Lair. You've been staying as far away from me as you can, admit
it."

"I thought you wanted time to yourself, so I was giving you
space."

"And my bullshit detector just went hay-wire."

"Then your bullshit detector is wrong," he snorted. "This whole
ordeal has been hard on you, and yes; I've been a little reserved
lately. I'm not sure where the boundaries are anymore."

"I know, this is new territory for us. We've been together for
strictly one reason for years, and now you're not interested
anymore, so what are we?"

"Not interested? Where in the hell did you get that?"

"From you! If I even so much as touch you, you leap away," she
said with a wry smile.

"I do not leap," he scowled, "I just thought you needed some of
time before we... hell, you don't even want to sleep in the same
bed with me anymore; what am I supposed to think?"

"I haven't been sleeping with you because I thought you might...
I don't know.. Look down on me now, or something."

"Now *my* bullshit detector is going hay-wire. Why would I look
down on you?. I've been through the same thing, remember? I
thought you moved out of my room because I told you about it. I
thought that you thought..." he trailed off when Carin started
laughing.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Us!" she said, laughing harder. "We've been so busy worrying
about what the other one thought, that we never even bothered to
ask."

He knew she was right; he never asked why she moved into the
other room, he just drew his own conclusions.

"I'm sorry," she chuckled, pulling her laughter under control.
"It's just so unlike us. We've talked about a lot of things,
hopes, dreams, fears. But put the two of us in this situation,
and we suddenly clam up."

"So why did you move into the other room?"

Her expression turned somber, "Probably for the same reason you
leaped away from me the other night, during the storm."

"I don't *leap*," he muttered, "I just thought things were going
too fast. That you weren't ready for what would have happened."

"Which, in a nutshell, is why I moved to the other room. Let's
face it, Walt. We've never spent this much time together and
remained... celibate. We're usually boffing like bunnies from the
start."

"Cute terminology," he answered, cutting his eyes in her
direction.

"Deny it," she dared.

"No, I can't."

"That's what I thought. So, for two people who have been screwing
their brains out for years; why has sex suddenly become a tender
subject?"

"Because you were sexually assaulted, and I'm to blame."

"I never said that," she said firmly.

"You don't have to, I know it."

"But if I don't blame you, why should you?"

He sighed; a sound of pure exasperation.

"Carin, if you had never met me in the first place, then it would
have never happened."

"All righty then, if you want to play Atlas, and carry the weight
of the world on your shoulders, let's get something straight. In
your mind, you and the attack are connected, right?"

"Without a doubt," he answered grimly.

"Well, if God granted me the choice to forget what happened to
me; but I had to forget you too, then I'd choose to remember
both. The memories of time spent with you far outweigh the short
memory of what happened. You're worth the pain."

He glanced over at her, feeling his chest tighten. He understood
exactly what she was saying. Ever since the morning he'd watched
that tape, his life had been one agonizing, guilt-ridden day
after another and it would be heaven to just forget. But it would
also mean forgetting all the good times. He looked at her,
wanting to say something, but finding no words to express what he
felt. They had never made any pretense of commitment to each
other, but there was more devotion in her statement than anyone
had ever shown to him. He reached out and picked her hand up,
holding it gently in his own.

"Thank you," he said softly. She simply smiled and gave his hand
a squeeze. They sat there quietly, listening to the chirp of
crickets and tree frogs in the darkness.

"Come on," he said, getting to his feet without releasing her
hand. "Sleep with me tonight," he

Inside they lay down together and he pulled her close, her head
settling on his shoulder. It felt good, he thought, it felt
right. Her hand lay on the center of his chest, her fingertips
sending tiny spirals of heat through his body as he drifted off
to sleep.

XxXxXxXxXx

He woke before dawn, coming out of sleep a little at a time. He
lay on his side, curled up to Carin. Her softly rounded bottom
resting against his lap, and occasionally she shifted back,
brushing against the prominence of his erection. He raised
himself up on his elbow, and looked down at her sleeping form.
She moved again, and both the friction and the contact sent a
jolt through him. Part of him wanted to get out of bed, to put
some distance between them before anything happened; but another
part wanted to stay right there, to kiss the exposed skin of her
neck, to feel her shudder, to wake her up, to...

'Stop it and get your ass out of bed!' he thought to himself.
'Don't be so fucking pushy, you're a grown man for God's sake.
Not a horny school kid.'

He started to rise from the bed.

"Where are you going?" she mumbled, still half asleep.

He leaned back down and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.

"I need to get up."

"Why? What's wrong?" Her eyes blinked open immediately.

"Nothing is wrong, it's just that I *need* to get out of this
bed."

The emphasis and his tone of voice made it clear to her.

"Would you go even if I asked you to stay?"

He looked down at her face and a flood of uncertainty washed over
him, but it didn't drown out the desire that was already in his
blood.

"Are you sure it would be a good idea? I mean, what if you aren't
healed, and we..."

"No, it's ok. Doctor Scully and I talked about it, when we were
back in D.C." Her hand came up and brushed along his chest; one
finger tracing a pattern through the crisp hair that covered it.

"You're sure?" he asked again.

She nodded, "I won't lie though, I'm nervous; even more nervous
than the first time."

He broke into a smile, "You and me both."

"But we can always stop, right?"

"We can stop anytime."

He leaned down, kissing her gently. Her mouth opened under his
and the tip of her tongue traced across his bottom lip. He let
his tongue brush against hers, before he covered her mouth
completely with his own. Her hands trailed along his back,
finally coming to rest on his shoulders. He broke the kiss and
pulled back to watch her eyes as his thumb played over the flat
plane of her stomach, before moving down to rest against her hip.
A small shiver passed through her body, and he stopped.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked in husky whisper. He wanted
her to be certain; to have no doubts or reservations.

She nodded, her bottom lip drawn in between her teeth. He slowly
moved his hand underneath her shirt, and gently cupped her
breast. The peak hardened against his palm instantly. He watched
her eyes as he captured the taut nipple with his fingers and
rolled it between them. Her eyes drifted close, and her back
arched. He lifted the hem of her shirt and brushed his lips
against her breast. Her sharp intake of breath made him pause
momentarily before he continued. He circled her nipple with his
tongue before drawing it tenderly into his mouth. Her hands
clutched and squeezed at his shoulders as he swirled his tongue
over her nipple again and again. He raised his head after a
moment, glancing at her face, then bent his head to the other
breast.

After a few minutes she was squirming beneath his touch and he
moved up, until he lay nestled snugly between her thighs; only a
thin cotton barrier between their bodies. He kissed her deeply,
taking his time, giving her a few minutes to get used to the feel
of his body against her own. Her legs spread wider and he could
feel her heat and moisture through the fabric. He groaned and
kissed her neck, arching his hips forward. Her hands moved down
his back and slid the waistband of his shorts down as far as she
could reach, then cupping his bare ass. He straightened up on his
knees, his eyes locking with hers, as he slipped her panties down
her legs. He removed his shorts quickly and lay over her once
more, tenderly kissing her neck and cheek.

"Are you ok?" he whispered against her skin.

"Yes," she answered huskily, arching her hips and rubbing against
his cock.

"Not yet," he groaned, shifting away from her inviting heat, and
slipping his hand down between their bodies. One fingertip parted
her folds gently, and rubbed across her clit. She gasped,
suddenly arching hard against his hand.

"Jesus, Walter," she moaned.

His cock throbbed insistently as his fingers worked her closer to
orgasm. She looked beautiful; her face was flushed, her breathing
shallow and ragged. Her eyes opened and locked with his, the heat
in her gaze sent a tremor through his body.

"Why?.." she gasped.

"Shhh, just relax," he said, feeling her start to tense beneath
him. He pulled his hand away and she cried out in frustration. He
reached down and guided the head of his cock into her. She was
tight, but wet, and he slid in easily. He bit back a moan as the
sensation engulfed him, and he began to move slowly. Her hips
rocked up to meet him each time he moved forward, driving him
deeper, urging him faster. Her legs began to tremble, locked
around his hips, and she cried out his name. He drove harder as
her muscles clenched, bringing the wave of his own release
crashing down upon him and blinding out the world.

When he could move again, he eased away from her, laying down by
her side. She hadn't moved or said a word.

"Hey?" he said softly.

She turned to him and her eyes glistened with tears. 'Oh no,' he
groaned inwardly, but then she smiled and moved into his arms. He
let out the breath he'd been holding, and cradled her against his
chest, kissing the top of her head. He smiled as she began to
breath slow and even in his arms, drifting off to sleep.

When he was sure that she was sound asleep, he gently extracted
himself from the bed and searched through his bag to locate his
cell phone. With it in hand, he walked into the kitchen.

An hour later he came back to the bedroom carrying two cups of
coffee. Carin still slept, just as he'd left her. He set the
coffee on the nightstand, and crawled up next to her in bed. He
blew gently on her earlobe and she barely stirred. Stifling a
small mischievous grin, he blew harder this time.

"My head is not a wind tunnel," she muttered without opening her
eyes.

"Just checking to see if you were awake."

"Uh-huh, sure you were," she mumbled, turning over and draping an
arm over his waist. "Where have you been?"

"In the kitchen," he said, carefully picking up one of the coffee
cups and holding it out to her.

"Thank you."

"How do you feel?"

"Very good," she grinned, blushing faintly.

"No regrets?"

"No, you?" she looked at him curiously.

"None," he replied, pilling two pillows up behind his head and
leaning back against them.

"You know were going to have to go back to D.C.," he said after a
few minutes of comfortable silence had passed.

"I know," her voice was almost a whisper.

"Are you afraid?"

"If I said no, you'd know that I was lying. So, yes, I am."

"Don't be, it's time to balance the scales and end this shit."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head, wearing a strange smile, and wouldn't answer
the question.

XxXxXxXxXx


The next two days blurred by, broken only by images of
tenderness, lust, and joy. Not a bad combination in anyone's
opinion, he thought, as he hefted his duffel bag onto his
shoulder and carried it out to the rented jeep.

Carin was standing on the deck gazing out at the black water. He
walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm thinking about selling the lake house," she said quietly.

"Don't make that decision yet; not until we get back, ok?"

She nodded and leaned back against him and he circled his arms
around her chest, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of her
head.

"You ready to go?" she asked.

"Whenever you are," he said wistfully.

"Let's go home."




end

Reckoning 5 : Perfect Balance

by Praetorian


The flight back to D.C. was far more pleasant than the flight to
New Orleans had been. She didn't receive any pitying looks, and
he didn't  get the hard, cold stares. They were just two more
passengers on a plane, nothing more. After leaving the airport
they went straight to Skinner's apartment. He asked her to stay a
couple more days, while he took care of some business. She asked
what he meant, but he only gave a strange smile as an answer.

He made a few phone calls that were short and cryptic, then said
he had to leave for a while. He kissed her cheek and insisted she
keep the door locked until he got back.

Then he was gone.

What she didn't know; what he intended for her to never know, was
that they were not alone on the flight back. Three other
passengers had boarded in New Orleans. No glances were exchanged,
no greetings spoken, no sign given at all. The three men who
accompanied them on the plane were all dark, typically Cajun.
When Skinner left his apartment, he went to meet them. Along the
way he rented a video camera. It was past time to balance the
scales.

A plain, nondescript hotel room was the perfect backdrop for his
little home movie. It took less than ten minutes to make. When it
was done, he handed the tape over to the three men, along with
some last minute instructions.

Then he was done.

He smiled as he drove back to his apartment, whistling to
himself.


XxXxXxXxXx


Marita Covarrubias got out of her car in the parking lot beside
her apartment building. She never saw anyone approach her. She
was suddenly engulfed by blackness, to panicked to even scream as
something soft was pinched over her face. She felt her mind
getting fuzzy, disorientated, and her body went limp.


When she came to hours later, her mouth felt dry and she was
still encased in darkness. She began to fight, and only then
realized that she was merely covered by a blanket. Yanking it
away from her head, she looked around at her bare surroundings.

The walls and floor were aged wood, gray and splintering at the
edges. A glimpse out the broken window showed only dense forest.

"Where the hell am I?" she muttered, rising to her feet.

One object in the room caught her attention; because it seemed so
out of place. Sitting on the floor, in one corner, was a small
TV/ VCR combo. On top of the TV was a yellow post-it note which
said 'PLAY ME' with a smiley face.

She hesitantly hit the play button.

The screen flickered to life, and she was faced with the image of
Walter Skinner.

"Fucking bastard!" she hissed at his image.

"Hello Marita," he began, almost but not quite smiling. "By now
I'm sure you've realized that you aren't in D.C. anymore. You are
exactly where you deserve to be; nowhere. You are in a strange,
dark place, where no one should ever be alone. It's a lot like
the place you put a friend of mine. I'm sure you'll be glad to
know that she made it out; but then again, she had help. And she
wasn't fifty miles from civilization. You are on your own. No
cell phone, no radio, no way to call for help. You can scream
until you have no voice; no one will hear you."

"If you want to get out of there, I'd suggest walking. But you'll
have to flip a coin to decide which direction to take, and I'd
also keep my eyes open for snakes. Although they'll be the least
of your worries."

"Before I say goodbye, I'll give you something to consider.
*This* is only a warning. If you want to hurt me, come after me.
Leave the people in my life alone, because that's something I
won't tolerate. Best of luck to you, you're going to need it."

The screen turned to snow and she screamed in frustration.

Outside as the sun began to set the bayou came to life.




THE END