ATF Untold (PG-13)

Rolling his bike in ahead of him, Skinner let himself into the apartment with the key to the extra lock he had installed.  It wasn’t the apartment he’d had when everything had fallen apart.  He had not liked the idea of having a third floor apartment when the power died.  The fact that it hadn’t happened still didn’t matter to him.  The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in an elevator for however long he had with only a bicycle for company.

He still kept things in his old apartment, spare food, some clothes, but he took the stairs when he visited it. 

The emptiness of the apartment pulled at him again.  His building hadn’t been taken over by the homeless.  There was plenty of room now for anyone left in Washington, and this building was a little far away from the markets on foot.  The Watergate seemed to be full but being farther out had its advantages, like privacy and less looting.  Even that had slowed now that the barter system was working and open markets dotted neighborhoods.

He’d been lucky, and he had Mulder to thank for at least part of that.  As soon as he heard the report about bees he had known.  He’d even tried to explain it to the powers that be but had been tossed out unceremoniously.  All the better for him.  He had looked for Mulder and Scully, but they were already gone. 

He had taken the cash that he kept on hand at his place and gone shopping.  The army-navy store had been first, stocking up on MRE’s, ammunition and heavy duty clothing, socks, boots, etc.  At the grocery he’d stuck to non-perishables assuming that the power would go out at any time.  Too bad, he could have stocked up on more meats, but after burglarizing several of the apartments in his building, he hadn’t done too badly.  It was just him, after all.  He’d created a small hydroponics garden in his old apartment and expanded it already, so he had some fresh vegetables to eat and occasionally trade.

He had been concerned about the cholera that was bound to develop from the bodies of the victims, but after checking out the morgue of a deserted hospital first hand, he realized it wasn’t going to be a problem.  The victims of the virus had melted, leaving a green goo in their wake.  That was the majority of the deaths.  If he had needed any more proof that Mulder knew what he was talking about that had taken care of it for him.

Mainly the problem now, at least for him, was loneliness.  Oh there were people, a bunch of strangers that didn’t trust each other, who lived in close proximity in order to survive.  After all this time he was just in a nodding acquaintance with the people at the market.  The aliens seemed to have retreated, leaving the remaining humans alone, at least for now.  Mulder had said they wanted consumables and that hadn’t happened, at least not in any way Skinner could see, but for now he was just trying to stay alive.  He turned on some music just to cut the silence once he had secured the entrance and then unloaded the bags from his bike.  He’d gotten another pair of shoes for some linens he’d found in an upstairs apartment.  It had been a bad deal for them, in his opinion, but he brushed aside any guilt.

After a tasteless meal, made more tasteless by the company, he got ready for bed.  The joy of being one of the remaining alive had burned out long ago, now he looked forward to sleep following a little time reading the classics again.  He could remember how he had looked forward to his evening meal, spent only in his own company, to shuck off his day.  That seemed a long time ago.

The night passed without dreams thankfully and he was up again at dawn.  The earlier you got to the market the better.  Even when he didn’t need anything he usually made this trip, at least information, or rumor, could be exchanged and discussed.  Maybe someone would have a few eggs for sale.  It had been a while since he had had one and he found himself with a goal for today at least.

He rode the bike farther this morning; he was familiar with the markets close to his place.  There were no eggs but he enjoyed seeing a part of the city he hadn’t seen lately.  Skinner was getting ready to head home when he spotted him.  Could it be? 

He was too far away to call out, and he didn’t want to attract that kind of attention anyway, so he followed discretely for awhile, gaining on the man slowly.  There was nothing else to do.

The smaller man ducked between two buildings and Skinner sped up to close the distance.  He turned the corner and right into the gun sites of his prey.  “Frohike?”

“Skinner?”  Frohike let the pistol dip just a little when he recognized the man.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“We’re just careful these days.  It’s good to see you.  Been doing okay?”

Skinner shrugged.  “Lonely.”  That surprised him, he hadn’t meant to admit something like that, but Frohike nodded.

“Hate to ask, but I need to see your blood.”

Skinner looked at him for a moment, then realized what he was saying.  He nodded and took his ever present knife from his pocket.  He opened the smallest blade and pricked a finger.  A spot of crimson showed immediately and Frohike smiled.

“I need the same from you.”

Frohike already had a diabetes tester out and was pricking his finger.  Skinner didn’t realize until he saw the tiny red spot how tense he’d been.  “I’m headed home,” Frohike said.  “If you don’t have an important meeting . . . “

Skinner grinned then.  “I think I could work you in.”  His spirits lifted just seeing this old acquaintance.

At Frohike’s building, Frohike looked up at the camera and made some complex movements with his hands.  Skinner heard the locks begin to disengage. 

“Skinner?” Langly gawked at him. 

Byers joined them from another room and approached Skinner, hand out.  “It’s good to see you.”  Skinner shook his hand, smiling.  It felt good to smile, to have a reason to smile.  “I’m just fixing lunch, please join us.”

“I couldn’t.  I didn’t bring anything.”

“You can the next time.  Please.” 

Skinner blinked at that, ‘the next time’.  Damn that sounded good.  He nodded then and took off his jacket.  “It looks like you’re doing okay here.”

“Yeah, miss the internet, but we got a lot downloaded before it went dead.  Used up a lot of memory.  Did you hear from Mulder?”

Skinner’s head swiveled toward Frohike.  “No, did you?”

“Yeah.  He was trying to reach you, but with the phones dead, he was using email when it was up.”

Skinner shook his head.  “I’m sure the Bureau took the time during the crisis to turn off my access as soon as they booted me out.”

“Booted you?” Langly stared at him.

“Yes.  As soon as I heard about the bee connection, I went to my superiors to try to explain what was happening.”

“You didn’t!”  Langly chortled.

Skinner nodded ruefully.  “I tried anyway.  I was told that I was wasting valuable time in a crisis and had spent too much time with ‘Spooky’ in the basement.  Things were grim by that point and they didn’t want to hear how we’d screwed around long enough for ‘them’ to just waltz in and take over.  I was escorted from the building.”

Byers was shaking his head.

“Hey, they did me a favor, since it looks like the pension fund wasn’t worth anything anyway.  I knew what was happening.  It gave me a couple of days to drive up my credit card and use cash to get the things I needed for long term survival.”

Frohike nodded at that.  “Yep.  We were already pretty well set up, but got in a few luxuries other people didn’t see as luxuries at the time.  Toilet paper for example.”

Skinner laughed out loud at that.  He’d made a similar purchase.  They settled in to eat and though it was a meal he would have turned his nose up at in the past, sharing it with friends made it the best meal he’d eaten in weeks.  After clean up, they settled in the main room to visit.

“So, Mulder, is Scully with him?”

“Of course.”

“Do you know where they are?  If it’s confidential don’t - “

“We don’t know.  We think he was trying to tell us, in some sort of code, but that was after email got really wonky.  All we know is they were together and safe, or at least as safe as he could make it for her.”  Byers looked over at Frohike who nodded.

“Maybe it would mean something to you.”  Frohike picked up a sheet of paper, in protective plastic and handed it to Skinner.  There was a lot of garbage in the script but he could pick out some words here and there.  “We got it down to ‘here her stro’, but after that with all the extra . . . “he shrugged.  “We assume ‘her’ is Scully but that’s the last message we got.

Skinner studied it, reading up and down through the letters and symbols on the page.  The guys had done a good job of making out what they had.  “Could I have a copy?  I could study it at home.”

“Sure.”  Frohike took the page back from him and made him a quick copy.

“Well, I should get going.  It takes longer on the bike and I like to be in before dark.”

“I don’t blame you,” Byers said.  “You will come back and see us?”

Skinner stopped then, looking at each of them.  “I’d really like that.”  He scribbled his address on a notepad.  “Same building I was in, but I moved downstairs.”

“Probably a good idea.  I can’t believe the power’s still on, but I’m willing to take advantage.”

Skinner grinned and Frohike let him out.  “Be careful, man.  Wish you could call us so we’d know you were home.”

“Yeah, I wish I could too.  I’ll be in touch.  I’ve gotten pretty good with the bike.  It, it’s nice to have a place to go.”

Byers nodded and Skinner moved out the door.

*****

He wasn’t able to sleep.  Seeing the guys had awakened memories, and studying the message for a long time this evening had stimulated him.  He had purposely avoided thinking about Mulder and Scully lately.  Of all the people he had known before, those two had become close to him.  He wasn’t sure they felt the same about him, but he missed them even with all the aggravation they had caused him.  Mulder had been right about the aliens, about the invasion, about everything.  If he had helped them more would anything have been different?  Would so many people have died?  There was nothing he could change.

He finally rose and moved into the living room of his borrowed apartment.  He didn’t bother with any lights, just turned on the music and sat listening.  Eventually he fell asleep on the couch.

He woke at his regular time, but his sleep had been dream filled.  Nothing that he could remember specifically, but not restful either.  As usual he headed for the market, but his mind was on the email from Mulder.  There was no news, just more of the same rumors, talk of coming shortages which was always a favorite topic.

He found he had no desire for company, at least not the company of these strangers.  Why had seeing those three old acquaintances brought up such a loneliness?  Regardless, he headed home earlier than usual. 

He handled his chores, checking his garden, doing laundry, and found that he was talking aloud to himself.  The words on his lips startled him, “where her stroke happened - “ He jerked upright.  That’s what the message had said!  They had gone to that lake house he had mentioned when his mother had her stroke.  Skinner had taken the message himself, he hadn’t been able to pronounce the word, but it had tripped off Mulder’s tongue.  Where?  Where had that been?

It was too late to make the trip over to the Gunmen’s place.  It would be dark before he could make it, and that wasn’t a good idea.  He’d go at first light. 

He rose at dawn, no better rested than the night before, but with a purpose now.  He dressed quickly and headed over to the guys’ apartment.  It was barely light when he set out.  He made good time, there were few people out this early and he couldn’t wait anyway.

Byers answered his adamant knock.  Skinner spotted Frohike guarding him from the door.  “Sorry, I know it’s early, but I know what the message means.”

“What?  What message?”

“The last message you got from Mulder. ‘Her’ wasn’t Scully, it was his mother.”

“What the hell’s going on?”  Langly joined them, squinting in the light of the living room.

“Hush, Langly.  Go on, Skinner.  What are you talking about?”

“The message.   Remember when Mrs. Mulder had her stroke a few years back?”

“Yeah, he and Scully took off up there,” Frohike offered.

“Up there where?” Skinner looked over at him.

“Uh, I don’t . . . “

“That’s where they are.  I’m sure of it.”

“How?” Byers asked.  “How can you be sure?”

“It, it feels right.  I can’t explain it better than that.  It’s like I was supposed to run into you and, and help with this message.”

The three friends just stared at him for a long moment.

He found himself grinning.  “That doesn’t sound like me, I know.  Maybe Mulder did infect me, but . . . “

“But you’re right,” Byers nodded.  “It does feel . . . right.”

Skinner nodded.  “Now we just have to remember the name of the place.  All I’m sure of is it was unpronounceable.”

“Shit,” Frohike was already digging through a drawer, ignoring the fact he was only in his pajamas.  He came up with a handful of maps.  He opened the first one and spread it out on the table.  Skinner looked over at Byers and picked up another of the maps, moving to the far end of the table.

It was Frohike who spotted it - the unpronounceable Indian name at a lake in Rhode Island.  It wasn’t the only one, but once they had seen it, they all agreed it ‘felt’ right.

“Okay, what’s the question here,” Langly finally asked, looking at all three of them.

Skinner blinked, he hadn’t really thought it through, but heard himself say, “I’m heading up there.”

Langly gaped at him.  “You serious, man?”

“Yeah, I am.”

There was dead silence for a long moment, then Byers and Frohike exchanged looks.  “Want some company?”  Frohike asked.

Langly’s head swiveled toward the smaller man, but before he could speak, Byers nodded.  “I’d like to come too.”

Skinner looked at both of them, then turned to Langly.  “I have no intention of breaking up the set.  Langly?”

“You guys really think we can do this?”

“Yeah, we can,” Frohike said adamantly.

“What if we’re wrong?”

Skinner took a deep breath.  “We still need to get out of the city.  We eked by last winter, but the city doesn’t have the food for another one.  We need to be where we’re not dependent on supplies being imported.”

Langly opened his mouth, but he couldn’t dispute that.

“So, what do we need to do?” Byers covered the silence.

Skinner took a deep breath.  “Do you have bicycles?”

“Yes, but we also have the van.”

“Your van?  Do you have gas? Tires?”

“Yes. Probably not enough here to reach Rhode Island but - “

“In the best of times driving that would be a full day, it’s over 400 miles but we’d need to avoid the cities,” Skinner mused.  “Still that could get us quite a head start.  Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Byers spoke for them all this time.  “We need to start making plans.”

*****

Their lists began long and had to be pared down.  They all agreed that the laptops and as many memory disks as they could take made the final list.  The information was unobtainable elsewhere in most cases.  After that importance dropped off quickly, food, clothing, and gasoline basically.

Skinner began bringing his things over in small bunches, what he could carry while on his bike.  They would load up the van and go as far as they could with it, then transfer over to bikes.

*****

Skinner approached the vendor as he was closing up and smiled.  He’d traded with him several times and had noticed the young boy that usually accompanied him. 

“You have a trade for me today, Sir?” the younger man looked up.

“Not exactly.  Is this your son?”  There was a resemblance, though the boy was still young, not quite a teenager yet.

The vendor looked wary immediately.  “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . I’m Walter Skinner.”  He pricked his finger, allowed a spot of scarlet to show, then held out his hand as in the old days.

After a small hesitation, the other man nodded. “Parker Samuels, this is my son, Kent.”

“Pleased to meet you, Kent.”  Skinner turned back to Parker, “There’s something I want you to see.”

“I’m not sure I - “

“I realize this is an unusual request.  Before, I was a Director with the FBI, that means nothing now, but I was in a job of protection, not harm.  I think what I want to show you will be a good thing for you and your family.”

Parker looked him up and down, then glanced over at Kent. 

“I don’t have any children, Parker, but I know how valuable they are and I won’t harm yours.  You have my word.”

The younger man nodded.  “Let us get this stuff packed up.”

“May I help?”

“Uh, sure.  We just need to load the cart.” Skinner helped Kent lift a box into the cart, then watched the father and son work together.  They had obviously done this together many times.  Once the cart was loaded Parker and Kent got on their bikes.  Skinner pulled up beside Parker, understanding that being too near Kent would put the man on edge.

They accompanied him to his building and after a slight hesitation, accepted his invitation to bring their bikes into the lobby.  He locked the door behind them and they moved the bikes out of view.

“I use the stairs.  The elevator works, but since I’m alone in the building, it doesn’t feel like a good idea.”

Parker nodded and they followed him up the three flights to his old apartment.  Skinner unlocked the door and entered first.  “The building’s abandoned, but there’s furniture in every apartment.  I’ve consolidated the food, linens, things like that and put them in strategic locations.  This is what I wanted to show you.”  He led the way to the back bedroom.  Parker’s eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing.

“How did you do this?”  He stepped forward instinctively, looking closely at the apparatus of the hydroponics. 

“A book,” Skinner shrugged.  “I would have said I don’t have much of a green thumb, but I liked the mechanical aspects of this.  Took me a while to figure out pollination, I wasn’t keen on inviting bees into the place.”  He grimaced and Parker nodded.  “Anyway, I’m leaving town.  I found some old friends and we’re going to be heading out to meet up with other friends.  This was too valuable to just abandon, so I wanted to see if you might be interested in taking it over.”

Parker gaped at him, unable to speak.  Finally he swallowed and looked around the room again.  “Are you serious?”

“Yes.  You might want to move your family in here.  It’s a nice building, fairly new and it was well kept up when such things were possible.  I own this apartment, but I live in one on the first floor now.”

“Why, why me?”

Skinner looked over at Kent, and nodded in his direction.  “I have no children, I don’t know what’s going to happen to future generations, but Kent here is the only child I see regularly.  It feels right.”  Damn, he’d used that phrase a lot lately, but it was the one that fit.  Maybe he was getting Spooky in his old age.

“This is . . . this is incredible.  You don’t even know me.”

“I knew you well enough to know you’d appreciate this.  I’d thought about going into business with you,” Skinner grinned, “but I need to go with these friends.  I want to go, but I’m also not sure they’d make it without me.”  He shrugged.

“I’d say they’re lucky to have you.”

Skinner smiled.  “I feel pretty lucky myself.  We’ll be leaving in a couple of days.  If you want to bring your family over to see the place, I’ll be here this evening and tomorrow evening.”

“I need to talk to my wife tonight, hopefully bring her by here.”

“Your wife’s alive?  You’re a very lucky man.”

“I know.” Parker met his eyes.  “It’s a little scary.”

“Coming here with me must have been hard.”

Parker nodded.  “It’s hard to trust these days.  I saw someone attack one of them last year, the fumes . . . Thank you for showing me your blood.  I should have reciprocated.”  He did then, allowing his own blood to show.

“Thank you,” Skinner said quietly.  It was a start, now to move on, with friends.

*****