Harm's Way
Fandom: X-Files
4th Season spoilers -- "Memento Mori"; brief mention of events from "Paper Clip" and other 3rd
season shows.
Summary: Skinner reaches a decision about where he stands in relation to the shadow government, and begins to understand its consequences.
Rating: PG for some language.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and the Cigarette Smoking Man are the property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, nor are the characters being used for commercial purposes.
Harm's Way
February 1997
Walter Skinner's apartment, Crystal City, VA
3:30 a.m.
He started awake -- the gun shot still echoing in his ears. The memory
of fire and pain in his gut so immediate that he found himself clutching
his stomach; his fingers finding only the scar instead of the expected
stickiness of blood.
Fully awake now, his rational mind smoothly taking control again, he was
only vaguely surprised to realize that in his dream -- reliving the
shooting in the cafe -- instead of Cardinale's face, his would-be-
assassin had had no face at all.
It was, he supposed, inevitable.
It was, he supposed, only the first of many such nightmares.
But there had been no real decision to make. The odd thing,
in fact, was that his decision had been made years ago. Had in fact
been made at the moment of his greatest triumph against Him.
Against that black-lunged son-of-a-bitch. ("This is where you
pucker up and kiss my ass.")
Skinner had known, even then, that there would be a day of
reckoning for the DAT and the Navajo code talkers. It was a turning
point. He'd openly declared his allegiance in the unspoken cold war
that was being waged in and around the Justice Department. Even
while savoring the unexpected triumph, Skinner had recognized that
it was only one battle. He'd known that it would never be that simple.
There were sides. But he knew that the lines blurred and shifted. The
skirmishes had been waged for year. That time he'd wound up on Mulder's
"side." Skinner had always known that the sides could and would change again.
But he'd always thought that when he finally sold his soul to the
devil it would be for Mulder's life. It never occurred to him that it would
be Scully.
**************
Office of the Assistant Director
3 days earlier
The news of her cancer had indeed been a surprise of the worst sort.
Another blow to the pair. How much more could they take?
He was struck anew by her presence and bearing. Standing in his office,
straightbacked, her gaze direct and unyielding, she embodied for him
what an FBI agent should be: honest, ethical, dedicated to principles
of truth and justice. Skinner realized that such words had lost much of
their power in this day and age. That they were regarded by many as
trite -- hackneyed. It made him feel suddenly old.
Scully had pulled a gun on him, she'd lied to him, she'd been furious
with him over the closing of her sister's file, but she'd also saved
his life. In every case he'd known that she was driven by a clear
vision of truth, and, trite as it sounded, justice.
She had always been direct and unyielding in her insistence on the truth,
whatever form it took. Delivering what he understood to be her own death
sentence, she remained unflinching in her recognition and acceptance of what
she knew to be the truth this time. He wondered how Mulder could stand it.
He'd brought up the leave of absence only because he knew it would be expected
of him. Knowing Scully -- knowing Scully and Mulder -- Skinner had
figured that she'd want to keep working.
He'd been surprised, however, when they'd brought up "investigative avenues"
and the abducted women. When Scully insisted on pursuing things through the
Justice Department, "for my own reasons," he'd known that the day had arrived.
On his way home that night, for reasons only partly obscure to himself,
he'd walked up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Navy Memorial.
The plaza was quiet and deserted on that cold night. The understated
elegance of the memorial had always appealed to him, despite his lingering
loyalty to the Marines. He had always found a certain familiar comfort in the
quotes inscribed on the edges of the fountain that ringed the map of the oceans
and seas at the center of the monument. Sea-faring men who understood duty,
loyalty and sacrifice -- concepts that it sometimes seemed to him belonged
to a different country and a different time.
That night, it was the John Paul Jones quote that stopped him,
"I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast;
for I intend to go in harm's way."
Harm's way. A little melodramatic for an ex-marine -- but fitting, perhaps.
Scully's father had been a Navy Captain. Besides, it was clear that things
were going to be a bit melodramatic for a while.
The next morning, he began to make the necessary arrangements.
******
Two days later, when he walked into his office to find Mulder there (how
did people keep getting past Kimberly? he wondered with only idle
exasperation) he knew he'd made the right decision.
Mulder had barely been able to hold himself together. Staring at some
indiscernible point outside Skinner's window, his voice was scarcely
recognizable as he asked Skinner to "set up a meeting."
The ensuing conversation had held further unpleasant surprises, but
perhaps not unanticipated. Skinner had never been able to fully
decide what had happened to Scully in those missing months, but he
had generally come to believe that it was a less extra-terrestrial explanation
than Mulder was likely to. The file directory from the fertility clinic
simply compounded those suspicions.
Vietnam had instilled early and immutable lessons about what man
can do to man.
He'd won. He'd convinced Mulder that he had to find another way.
It had been a narrow victory, he realized. Mulder was closer to the
edge than he'd ever seen him. But it reinforced Skinner's decision.
Mulder had to find a way to the truth about the conspiracy, without
becoming its tool.
Skinner needed that. He would need that. Mulder had to stay his own man.
Skinner wasn't naive or stupid. He knew that there was a conspiracy and that
his agents were both inextricably caught in it. Skinner understood however,
that it was far darker and more subtle than either Mulder or Scully, for all they'd
seen, currently understood.
Oddly, though Skinner had long ago realized that only Mulder's brash
approach -- blunt, almost naive -- fueled by his dogged determination would
ultimately bring down the network. And Skinner also knew that Mulder
could only keep going with Scully at his side.
And, finally, Skinner understood that he would have a much better chance
of leveraging the black-lunged son-of-a-bitch than Mulder. Mulder had far
too many weakness and pressure points of his own -- the chain smoker could
manipulate Mulder a hundred different ways. If Mulder managed to bargain
for a cure for Scully, he would never escape, because there were too many other
vulnerabilities: Samantha, alien bodies, hybrid technologies....
Skinner was far less vulnerable -- no wife, no family, carefully concealed
views -- it meant that maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance to escape
when all was said and done.
************
Entering Mulder's office for the meeting -- the lack of subtlety in the SOB's
location choice scarcely escaping his notice -- Skinner felt a tightening in his
stomach, a speeding of his respiration that he hadn't felt since Vietnam. A
day he'd been the point man on his patrol, and had walked into a jungle
clearing where he suddenly knew there was an ambush. He'd nearly been
killed that day, and one-third of his patrol had been wounded or killed.
He wondered now how he'd leave Mulder's office. And, of course, the chain
smoker had had to toy with him. They had to play
out the drama. The devil took his due. Skinner was forced to ask:
"I need a miracle."
Perhaps it was fitting, after all, that he trade his soul for a miracle -- for a
modern miracle. And he couldn't help but think of the situation in those
quite melodramatic terms. The truth was that he did think the cigarette
smoker was the devil, or at least evil incarnate, which was pretty much
the same damned thing.
If Scully wasn't the embodiment of truth or honor (and he knew
instinctively that she'd hate to be called that) she was probably the
closest thing the FBI had to such a thing. He felt a kinship with Mulder
in his desire to protect her. Knowing at the same time, that she would
hate to think that either of them felt that need.
The only question, really, was the price. It would be significant --
of that Skinner had no doubt. He had spent the night before running
scenarios through his mind: a demand to shut down the X-files;
dissolving Mulder's and Scully's partnership; transferring one or
both to remote field offices. He'd carefully prepared arguments and
counter-offers to each.
You tried breaking them up once before. It didn't work. If you remove
them from Washington they will be that much harder to watch, to control.
There were other, darker possibilities: betrayals, treacheries, misdirections,
lies. He thought, perhaps, that Cancer Man would exact some personal price
from Skinner himself, as well as fulfilling whatever impersonal agenda he
represented. Skinner knew that there was a score to be settled, and this time
he held very few cards.
But when Cancer Man refused to name the price for Scully's miracle, Skinner
knew it was going to be much worse than he had initially anticipated. The back
and forth was tedious:
"What'll it take?"
"For Agent Scully's life? What would you offer?"
"What'll it take?"
Then, an unexpected and awful reply:
"Well. I'll have to get back to you on that."
And suddenly the abyss yawned even more widely. Far from being the devil,
Cancer Man was only a minion, a messenger. Skinner knew with a terrible
certainty that he hadn't stepped through a looking glass; he'd walked off a cliff,
and there was no telling what waited at the bottom.
***********
That 5 a.m. meeting, he realized later, had been no accident. Hadn't been
merely to prove that the Cigarette Smoking Man could make him come and
go at inconvenient will. They'd known, somehow. Known that Penny
Northern would die that morning; that what Mulder had found would prompt
him to call, one way or another.
He was glad to know that Agent Scully had decided to return to work. Mulder
would need her support more than ever in the coming days.
"There's always another way."
Repeating his earlier insistence to Mulder, he savored the irony for a brief
moment. There were always other ways, but they were fewer now, and
probably not the ones Mulder envisioned.
"Yes, I believe there is...If you're willing to pay the price."
The price had been named.
The bargain sealed.
As he watched his new master leave, Skinner found himself realizing that
there no hope of escape. None at all.
END
Harm's Way II
4th Season spoilers -- "Memento Mori"; brief mention of events from "Paper Clip" and other 3rd
season shows.
Summary: Skinner reaches a decision about where he stands in relation to the shadow government, and begins to understand its consequences.
Rating: PG for some language.
Disclaimer: The characters of Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, and the Cigarette Smoking Man are the property of Chris Carter, Fox Broadcasting and Ten-Thirteen Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended, nor are the characters being used for commercial purposes.
Harm's Way
February 1997
Walter Skinner's apartment, Crystal City, VA
3:30 a.m.
He started awake -- the gun shot still echoing in his ears. The memory
of fire and pain in his gut so immediate that he found himself clutching
his stomach; his fingers finding only the scar instead of the expected
stickiness of blood.
Fully awake now, his rational mind smoothly taking control again, he was
only vaguely surprised to realize that in his dream -- reliving the
shooting in the cafe -- instead of Cardinale's face, his would-be-
assassin had had no face at all.
It was, he supposed, inevitable.
It was, he supposed, only the first of many such nightmares.
But there had been no real decision to make. The odd thing,
in fact, was that his decision had been made years ago. Had in fact
been made at the moment of his greatest triumph against Him.
Against that black-lunged son-of-a-bitch. ("This is where you
pucker up and kiss my ass.")
Skinner had known, even then, that there would be a day of
reckoning for the DAT and the Navajo code talkers. It was a turning
point. He'd openly declared his allegiance in the unspoken cold war
that was being waged in and around the Justice Department. Even
while savoring the unexpected triumph, Skinner had recognized that
it was only one battle. He'd known that it would never be that simple.
There were sides. But he knew that the lines blurred and shifted. The
skirmishes had been waged for year. That time he'd wound up on Mulder's
"side." Skinner had always known that the sides could and would change again.
But he'd always thought that when he finally sold his soul to the
devil it would be for Mulder's life. It never occurred to him that it would
be Scully.
**************
Office of the Assistant Director
3 days earlier
The news of her cancer had indeed been a surprise of the worst sort.
Another blow to the pair. How much more could they take?
He was struck anew by her presence and bearing. Standing in his office,
straightbacked, her gaze direct and unyielding, she embodied for him
what an FBI agent should be: honest, ethical, dedicated to principles
of truth and justice. Skinner realized that such words had lost much of
their power in this day and age. That they were regarded by many as
trite -- hackneyed. It made him feel suddenly old.
Scully had pulled a gun on him, she'd lied to him, she'd been furious
with him over the closing of her sister's file, but she'd also saved
his life. In every case he'd known that she was driven by a clear
vision of truth, and, trite as it sounded, justice.
She had always been direct and unyielding in her insistence on the truth,
whatever form it took. Delivering what he understood to be her own death
sentence, she remained unflinching in her recognition and acceptance of what
she knew to be the truth this time. He wondered how Mulder could stand it.
He'd brought up the leave of absence only because he knew it would be expected
of him. Knowing Scully -- knowing Scully and Mulder -- Skinner had
figured that she'd want to keep working.
He'd been surprised, however, when they'd brought up "investigative avenues"
and the abducted women. When Scully insisted on pursuing things through the
Justice Department, "for my own reasons," he'd known that the day had arrived.
On his way home that night, for reasons only partly obscure to himself,
he'd walked up Pennsylvania Avenue to the Navy Memorial.
The plaza was quiet and deserted on that cold night. The understated
elegance of the memorial had always appealed to him, despite his lingering
loyalty to the Marines. He had always found a certain familiar comfort in the
quotes inscribed on the edges of the fountain that ringed the map of the oceans
and seas at the center of the monument. Sea-faring men who understood duty,
loyalty and sacrifice -- concepts that it sometimes seemed to him belonged
to a different country and a different time.
That night, it was the John Paul Jones quote that stopped him,
"I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast;
for I intend to go in harm's way."
Harm's way. A little melodramatic for an ex-marine -- but fitting, perhaps.
Scully's father had been a Navy Captain. Besides, it was clear that things
were going to be a bit melodramatic for a while.
The next morning, he began to make the necessary arrangements.
******
Two days later, when he walked into his office to find Mulder there (how
did people keep getting past Kimberly? he wondered with only idle
exasperation) he knew he'd made the right decision.
Mulder had barely been able to hold himself together. Staring at some
indiscernible point outside Skinner's window, his voice was scarcely
recognizable as he asked Skinner to "set up a meeting."
The ensuing conversation had held further unpleasant surprises, but
perhaps not unanticipated. Skinner had never been able to fully
decide what had happened to Scully in those missing months, but he
had generally come to believe that it was a less extra-terrestrial explanation
than Mulder was likely to. The file directory from the fertility clinic
simply compounded those suspicions.
Vietnam had instilled early and immutable lessons about what man
can do to man.
He'd won. He'd convinced Mulder that he had to find another way.
It had been a narrow victory, he realized. Mulder was closer to the
edge than he'd ever seen him. But it reinforced Skinner's decision.
Mulder had to find a way to the truth about the conspiracy, without
becoming its tool.
Skinner needed that. He would need that. Mulder had to stay his own man.
Skinner wasn't naive or stupid. He knew that there was a conspiracy and that
his agents were both inextricably caught in it. Skinner understood however,
that it was far darker and more subtle than either Mulder or Scully, for all they'd
seen, currently understood.
Oddly, though Skinner had long ago realized that only Mulder's brash
approach -- blunt, almost naive -- fueled by his dogged determination would
ultimately bring down the network. And Skinner also knew that Mulder
could only keep going with Scully at his side.
And, finally, Skinner understood that he would have a much better chance
of leveraging the black-lunged son-of-a-bitch than Mulder. Mulder had far
too many weakness and pressure points of his own -- the chain smoker could
manipulate Mulder a hundred different ways. If Mulder managed to bargain
for a cure for Scully, he would never escape, because there were too many other
vulnerabilities: Samantha, alien bodies, hybrid technologies....
Skinner was far less vulnerable -- no wife, no family, carefully concealed
views -- it meant that maybe, just maybe, he would have a chance to escape
when all was said and done.
************
Entering Mulder's office for the meeting -- the lack of subtlety in the SOB's
location choice scarcely escaping his notice -- Skinner felt a tightening in his
stomach, a speeding of his respiration that he hadn't felt since Vietnam. A
day he'd been the point man on his patrol, and had walked into a jungle
clearing where he suddenly knew there was an ambush. He'd nearly been
killed that day, and one-third of his patrol had been wounded or killed.
He wondered now how he'd leave Mulder's office. And, of course, the chain
smoker had had to toy with him. They had to play
out the drama. The devil took his due. Skinner was forced to ask:
"I need a miracle."
Perhaps it was fitting, after all, that he trade his soul for a miracle -- for a
modern miracle. And he couldn't help but think of the situation in those
quite melodramatic terms. The truth was that he did think the cigarette
smoker was the devil, or at least evil incarnate, which was pretty much
the same damned thing.
If Scully wasn't the embodiment of truth or honor (and he knew
instinctively that she'd hate to be called that) she was probably the
closest thing the FBI had to such a thing. He felt a kinship with Mulder
in his desire to protect her. Knowing at the same time, that she would
hate to think that either of them felt that need.
The only question, really, was the price. It would be significant --
of that Skinner had no doubt. He had spent the night before running
scenarios through his mind: a demand to shut down the X-files;
dissolving Mulder's and Scully's partnership; transferring one or
both to remote field offices. He'd carefully prepared arguments and
counter-offers to each.
You tried breaking them up once before. It didn't work. If you remove
them from Washington they will be that much harder to watch, to control.
There were other, darker possibilities: betrayals, treacheries, misdirections,
lies. He thought, perhaps, that Cancer Man would exact some personal price
from Skinner himself, as well as fulfilling whatever impersonal agenda he
represented. Skinner knew that there was a score to be settled, and this time
he held very few cards.
But when Cancer Man refused to name the price for Scully's miracle, Skinner
knew it was going to be much worse than he had initially anticipated. The back
and forth was tedious:
"What'll it take?"
"For Agent Scully's life? What would you offer?"
"What'll it take?"
Then, an unexpected and awful reply:
"Well. I'll have to get back to you on that."
And suddenly the abyss yawned even more widely. Far from being the devil,
Cancer Man was only a minion, a messenger. Skinner knew with a terrible
certainty that he hadn't stepped through a looking glass; he'd walked off a cliff,
and there was no telling what waited at the bottom.
***********
That 5 a.m. meeting, he realized later, had been no accident. Hadn't been
merely to prove that the Cigarette Smoking Man could make him come and
go at inconvenient will. They'd known, somehow. Known that Penny
Northern would die that morning; that what Mulder had found would prompt
him to call, one way or another.
He was glad to know that Agent Scully had decided to return to work. Mulder
would need her support more than ever in the coming days.
"There's always another way."
Repeating his earlier insistence to Mulder, he savored the irony for a brief
moment. There were always other ways, but they were fewer now, and
probably not the ones Mulder envisioned.
"Yes, I believe there is...If you're willing to pay the price."
The price had been named.
The bargain sealed.
As he watched his new master leave, Skinner found himself realizing that
there no hope of escape. None at all.
END
Harm's Way II