TITLE: Phantom Pain
AUTHOR: Kristen K2
EMAIL: kristenk2@deslea.com
WEBSITE: 
http://lzl.dreamhost.com/ExtFamily/Kristen/KristenMain.html
KEYWORDS: Jeff Spender, Kim, Skinner
SUMMARY: "They aren't star-crossed lovers kept apart by a 
cruel twist of fate; even from the hazy distance of memory, 
dating Kim was awkward and rushed and full of embarrassing 
gaffes."
RATING: PG
SPOILERS: One Son, William. Set immediately after the scene 
in William where Scully confronts Jeff in the interrogation 
room.
DISCLAIMER: The characters herein belong to 1013 and Fox. 
ARCHIVES: Anywhere, just ask first.
FEEDBACK: Love the stuff. 
THANKS: To Maidenjedi for the Jeff challenge, Ursula for 
the beta, and to the Harem for indulging my Kimfic 
cravings. I cheated and went way over 500 words. Think of 
this as 3 fics in one. 

+++

His ear itches.  
 
He doesn't scratch it, instead letting his mind savor the 
pinprick of pain where his ear used to be. Phantom pain, 
Alex called it. Alex enjoyed the sensation, but Jeff never 
understood the appeal. Now he almost gets it. 
 
It reminds him that he's still alive. That underneath all 
the scar tissue and synthetic and skin grafts, his heart 
still pumps red blood. Now that all the anger that's fueled 
him for so long has dissipated in the wake of his 
confession, he's oddly glad to have something replace it.  
 
Pain instead of rage; that's a hell of a trade-off. Still, 
he considers as the door to the interrogation room finally 
opens, it's better than being dead. Isn't it?

Maybe he should ask his newest visitor. If anyone knows 
about cheating death, it's Skinner. 

His former boss seems ill at ease; once inside, he lingers 
by the doorway. 

"I'm not contagious," Jeff offers, but the joke 
disintegrates somewhere between his mouth and Skinner's 
ear. The other man steps forward, and Jeff watches from 
across the table as two large hands grasp the back of the 
chair. 

"I know that. Jeffrey, I'm sorry for what happened. If I 
had known what..." Fingers squeeze the chair slat so tight 
Jeff wonders if the wood will moan in protest. "I would 
have done everything I could to stop it."

For the first time, Jeff looks at Skinner's face. He 
expects pity, but what he sees is regret. He likes that 
expression even less. He's not one of Skinner's agents 
anymore, and he doesn't want to remember when he was. 
Thinking about what he used to be, when he was whole and 
stupid and unknowing, is a more futile gesture than 
scratching his missing ear.

"Am I free to go?" 

Skinner nods. "Do you have somewhere to stay? I can 
arrange--"

"No. I don't want that." The thought of being under the 
government's 'protection' again is chilling. He's all too 
aware of the horrors that lurk beneath.

"Jeffrey." Skinner stops his hasty departure with a hand to 
his elbow. "Go see her before you leave."

It doesn't surprise him that Skinner knows. She always used 
to talk about her boss in admiring tones, and he knows from 
seeing Alex's surveillance tapes of Skinner's condo they 
have become a hell of a lot closer since then. What does 
surprise him is that Skinner would want to rub that in. 

"She's moved on," he says flatly. "Give her my regards, 
okay?"

"Go see her," Skinner repeats. "She's going to want to see 
you."

"Not like this, she won't." 

The words taste bitter against his tongue. He's willed 
himself not to care about how people react to him. He knows 
he's now an object of pity, repulsion, or scientific 
interest in other people's eyes. Those aren't expressions 
he could stand to see in hers, even now. If she has any 
fond feelings for him left, he'd prefer to keep them 
intact.

"She won't care, Jeffrey." The corner of Skinner's mouth 
tilts upward. "And she'll kick my ass -- and yours -- if 
you walk out of here without letting her know you're still 
alive."

Point taken. He pictures her, hands on her hips and her 
face flushed in annoyance. It used to fill him with a 
perverse pleasure whenever he managed to piss her off; he 
liked knowing she could be as stubborn and ungraceful as he 
often was. 

He has no illusions about the kind of relationship he had 
with her. They aren't star-crossed lovers kept apart by a 
cruel twist of fate; even from the hazy distance of memory, 
dating Kim was awkward and rushed and full of embarrassing 
gaffes. He remembers the first time he kissed her, in the 
storage room next to the basement office. He'd gone in 
there to investigate the source of the loud crash and found 
her sprawled on the floor surrounded by fallen files. When 
he helped her back to her feet, the top of her head had 
smashed into his chin and sent him tripping backward into 
the shelving unit. And somewhere between stuttered 
apologies and muffled giggles, his mouth had found hers. 

Romeo and Juliet they weren't, but it had worked for a 
while. Right up until the day his father shot him point-
blank in the face.

He gestures with his head toward the door, and Skinner 
releases his elbow. "Still on the fourth floor?"

The other man seems relieved. "Yes. I'll ride up with you."

When the elevator stops to pick up passengers on the second 
floor, he notices that Skinner shifts his weight in front 
of him, blocking the incoming stares. Jeff wants to tap him 
on the shoulder and tell him not to bother, but the truth 
is he's grateful for the concern. Since Alex's 
disappearance last year, he hasn't had anyone who gave a 
damn about him. Not that Alex was Florence Nightingale, but 
he'd taught Jeff how to cope with his mutilated body, and 
somehow they'd forged the closest thing to a friendship 
that he suspected either of them had had in years. He 
wonders if Skinner knows what happened to Alex, but he 
knows better than to ask. His days of naivete are long 
over.

He follows Skinner down the hallway, nearly stepping on his 
heels when the other man stops short of the door. He 
glances over Skinner's shoulder to see her empty desk.

"She's in my office," Skinner says quietly. "Go on in. I'll 
make sure you're not disturbed."

Memories he's long suppressed rise to the surface as his 
Converses squeak across the linoleum. He used to love 
sneaking up on her in the kitchen as she waited for the 
coffee to finish brewing. After her initial shiver of 
surprise, she would melt back against him, her body still 
warm and lax from sleep. He doubts sneaking up on her now 
will evoke the same reaction.

She's standing behind Skinner's desk, hunched over the 
blotter as she scribbles a note. Her hair is flopped 
forward and shielding her face, and it strikes him that 
maybe cameras do lie. She looks much thinner and faded than 
she did on the grainy black-and-white tape. 

He raps his knuckles on the door to get her attention, and 
she jerks upright.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in," she says as she 
closes the open folder on the desk and starts to walk 
toward him. The weariness he just glimpsed is quickly 
covered over by her professional sheen. He likes her better 
the other way. "Are you here to see A.D. Skinner?"

"No, I..." He hesitates, not sure what to say. Should he 
introduce himself? He wishes he'd asked Skinner for some 
time to prepare. He's never been any good at impromptu 
moments.

Her walk stops mid-step as their gazes catch, and the 
polite smile freezes on her face. 

"Oh my God," she whispers. "Jeff?"

Oh God. She *recognizes* him. He didn't expect that. Even 
Scully had been fooled into thinking he might be Mulder. 

"Hi, Kim," he says lamely, wishing he could look away as 
her eyes fill with tears. He did a lot of crappy things to 
her, but he never made her cry. 

Then her arms are tight around his neck, her fingers 
digging into his shoulders, and he doesn't have the heart 
to tell her it hurts to be held like this. His hands reach 
around her waist and she presses herself harder against 
him...and then it isn't phantom pain. It's real, and he 
welcomes it.

She shifts, and her mouth is soft and wet against his. He 
knows this is wrong. He's in Skinner's office, kissing 
Skinner's assistant. Skinner's lover.

But once upon a time, she was his. Once upon a time, he was 
a man who could have loved her. He's not that man anymore, 
and he can't love her any more now than he could then, but 
it doesn't matter. 

What matters is she reminds him that he's alive. She always 
has. And when they break apart and go their separate ways -
- as he knows they will -- this is the sensation that will 
penetrate his scar tissue. The feel of her hands on him, 
the kindness of her lips parting against his, the ripple of 
her breath on his scars. The soft acceptance of Kim that 
burrowed under his defenses right from that first awkward 
clutch in the storage room. 

She will be his phantom pain.

THE END

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