Skinner could feel the warm, wet tiles against his shoulder blades and buttocks. The fine hot spray flicked over his eyelids. He kept his eyes closed, letting the aches and pains settle in his abused muscles.

Not one of his best days, all things considered, but probably not as bad as the one Mulder and Scully had had.

His hands splayed across his midriff and down over his hard belly, willing the heat of the shower to soothe the humiliation along with the bruises.

Suddenly, he chuckled.

That Holly should be a place-kicker for the Redskins.

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