Subject: Crossing the Line 2B
Sent: 28/01 11:44 AM
Received: 28/01 9:29 PM
From: (Sharon Nuttycombe)(by way of avalon@terranet.ab.ca (Sharon Nut, av
To: Jenny Dobson, dobbo@c031.aone.net.au
Crossing the Line 2 - Celestial Intervention part 2/2
Sharon Nuttycombe
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca
April 23, 1996
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This is part two of an ongoing story arc called "Crossing the Line" which is a
Scully and Skinner romance. It will probably make more sense if you read
Friday Night (2 parts) first. There is no sex (yet). There is an X-File, but
this is primarily a relationship story. There is one (small) third season
spoiler.
I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story, style, or anything
else you care to mention. I can be reached at my e-mail address, listed
above. Thank you.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Linda Campbell my co-conspirator and unofficial,
unpaid research assistant.
Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, and Mulder belong to Chris Carter and have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended...Enough of
this - on with the story!
*****************************************************************
Celestial Intervention 2/2
Celeste was already in the cafe when Scully arrived, feeling slightly
windblown and dishevelled. Catching her friend's eyes, she shrugged out of
her coat and crossed the floor to the table.
"Sorry I'm late," the agent said, a little breathlessly. I got caught
up in one of Mulder's explanations."
"Don't worry. I just got here myself. I haven't even ordered yet."
Scully sat down and glanced sharply at her friend. The dark-haired
woman looked a little pale.
"Are you all right?" she asked, concern evident in her voice.
"I'm fine." Celeste smiled and shook her hair back off her shoulders.
"Just eight months pregnant, the size of a small sea-going vessel, and tired
of needing a forklift every time I want to get up."
"Well, it will all be over soon."
"I know. Then there's just the midnight feedings, all the childhood
illnesses, ballet and piano lessons, paying for college...Do you think it's
too late to give her back?"
Scully smiled. "I did suggest you get a cactus instead."
"Not strongly enough."
Scully looked up as the waitress arrived to take their order. Once the
waitress had filled up their coffee cups, gathered up their menus and left,
Scully turned back to her friend.
"How are you really?"
"Scared, anxious, impatient. But you should see Jack. You think I'm
bad..."
"Impending fatherhood can have quite an effect, I'm told."
"It was bad enough when he was suffering from sympathy morning
sickness," Celeste said with a smile, "but now he's starting to twitch. He
called me ten times yesterday from work. I'm sure he expects me to give birth
at any moment."
"You're lucky," Scully said, a trace of envy in her voice.
"I know," Celeste replied simply.
Scully decided to change the subject. Thinking of Celeste's life with
her husband served only to remind her of the emptiness in her own. Normally
it did not bother her, but lately...
Scully glanced around the cafe. "So, what made you choose this place?"
Celeste smiled wickedly, forgetting the discomforts of her body.
"Someone told me about it."
Scully's instincts sharpened, and a nasty suspicion began to form.
"Who?" she asked. Celeste's gaze slid over Scully's shoulder.
"He did," she replied.
Scully swivelled around in her seat, already guessing who would be
there...and stiffened. It was Skinner. Almost immediately their eyes met
across the room and he paused in the act of removing his coat, holding her
gaze with his own.
Reaction hit her - a wave of desire and longing so strong it left her
gasping in its wake. What was wrong with her? She couldn't remember ever
feeling this way before. It's just Skinner, she thought. Skinner, her boss.
Scully was sure her face must be revealing everything she was feeling, but she
was unable to look away. The Assistant Director, for his part, also seemed
unable to break the eye contact. The moment seemed to stretch forever. And
then Celeste was rising a little in her seat and waving to the ex-marine.
"Walter," she called, while Scully managed to wrench her gaze away from
her boss. Slowly, almost reluctantly, Skinner crossed over to their table.
"This is a coincidence," Celeste said sunnily, "isn't it, Dana?"
Scully resisted the urge to sink under the table. Now that she had
managed to drag her gaze away from the man, the turmoil of attraction she had
felt had been replaced by embarrassment and a hearty desire to run. She cast
the man a quick glance, relying on peripheral vision more than anything else.
"Yes," she managed to say, "It is."
She was the last person Skinner had expected to see. And after all the
trouble he had gone to to avoid her...For a moment, at the doorway he had been
tempted to flee, and then her gaze had caught his and he had been lost. He
wanted her. Here. Now. He swallowed deeply, trying to get his body's
reactions under control. Stop it, he told himself sternly. You can't have
her. Not now or ever. The trouble was, he didn't believe himself.
He managed to murmur something polite. Celeste hastily slid her chair
to the side and invited him to join them. Reluctantly he accepted and sat
down. Scully avoided looking at him then she glanced up furtively, and they
both froze, lost in the other's gaze. This is ridiculous, some deep, sane
part of him managed to say. I'm staring at her like I've never seen a woman
before. Like a schoolboy. Somewhere in the distance, Celeste was talking
non-stop, filling in the awkward silences in the conversation, underlying glee
evident in her voice.
Scully managed to wrench her attention away from the good-looking,
muscular man sitting before her, and she responded to something Celeste had
said, though scarcely knowing what she said. Desperately she searched for
something to say to distract herself from her body's reactions, and to avoid
looking like a complete idiot.
"Celeste said you told her about this place?" she asked quietly.
"I mentioned it on Friday night. At the concert."
"Oh."
There was a long, painful silence. Finally Scully managed to get
herself under some sort of control. I am not going to do this, she thought.
I am not going to sit here like an undersexed fool, drooling over my boss.
She pasted a sunny smile on her face and sailed back into the conversation
gallantly.
"You were right about my car," she said. "The transmission is shot."
Skinner looked relieved to have something to discuss, even if it was the
death of her car. They spoke about automotive problems for a while, then
gradually the conversation turned to work and an upcoming review. Celeste
watched them with ever-increasing disappointment.
Skinner was beginning to feel on firmer ground. Apart from a stricken
expression on her face when she first noticed him across the cafe, she had
displayed no reluctance to see him. On the contrary, there had been a moment
when...no. He was imagining things. Nothing had happened and nothing ever
would.
The hour passed swiftly and Scully stood up to leave. Skinner rose to
his feet and likewise reached for his coat hanging over the back of his chair.
As he turned, his hand lightly brushed Scully's. An electric current, more
akin to a seven-megaton blast than a mere spark, shot through him. She felt
it too. Her head turned quickly and for a startled moment, they stared at one
another's eyes. Scully quivered slightly.
"I think we just redefined chemistry," Skinner thought randomly, trying
to put his thoughts back in some sort of order. "Now what do I do?"
The question became moot, however, as Scully hastily gathered up her
coat and purse and, murmuring a quick goodbye, beat a hasty retreat, leaving
the cafe at high speed with Celeste in tow. Skinner watched them both
bemusedly through the window, then slowly followed them across the street.
* * *
Scully breathlessly said goodbye to Celeste, ignoring her friend's
attempts to draw her out in conversation, then bolted back down to the
basement. In the elevator, she ran a shaking hand through her hair.
So much for control. So much for hiding her feelings. If Walter
Skinner didn't know how she felt, he didn't deserve to be in the Federal
Bureau of Investigation. A blind man could have read her body language. He
must think her a fool...A fool who had somehow become infatuated with her
boss, over the course of one weekend.
"I wonder if it's too late to emigrate," she thought as she pushed open
the door of the basement office.
* * *
A cold wind was blowing from the North, and rain clouds gathered
ominously on the horizon. Scully stared at them with trepidation. She hadn't
brought an umbrella. Her mind had been on things other than the weather this
morning.
The afternoon had passed in something of a daze. She had tried to
concentrate on Mulder's sea wolves, but had found her thoughts straying back
to lunch and what had happened between her and Skinner. The shock that had
gone through her when he had accidentally brushed her hand had made Vesuvius
look like a firecracker. And he had felt it too. Scully shied away from the
disturbing thought that Skinner might be sexually attracted to her. That only
seemed to make it worse. If he was interested in her...how in Hades were they
going to maintain a professional relationship? If she had learned one thing
during her time at Quantico and the FBI it was that office relationships were
doomed to failure...and that the aftermaths were invariably painful. I will
not do that to myself...
Scully clutched her coat tighter, looking vainly up the street for the
bus, her thoughts as cold as the autumn wind. Mulder had offered her a lift
home after work when he had learned that her car was in the shop, but when six
o-clock had rolled by and he had made no effort to move, she had decided to
take the bus. He had looked up and offered to run her home, but she knew that
all he really wanted to do was keep researching the "case". It would have
taken something extreme to prise him out of his office, and she didn't feel
like waiting all night. So here she was, standing alone in a dark street,
frozen to the marrow, and waiting for nonexistent public transportation.
"That's more of an X-File than Mulder's sea wolves," she thought to herself.
"Why is there never a bus or a cab when you really need one?"
A blue Taurus passed her then slowed and reversed. A chill shot through
her. It couldn't be...could it?
Of course it was. Walter Skinner rolled down a window and said:
"Would you like a ride?"
No. Not him. Not now. What in hell was she supposed to say to him? --
'Sure Walter, I'd love a ride. Oh, and did I mention that I also want your
body?' Scully drew a deep breath.
"I'm waiting for the bus." Great, Dana. Nothing like stating the
obvious.
"It's going to rain."
Unconsciously she looked up at the darkening skies. He was right. Of
course. She may as well get this over with. She couldn't very well tell her
boss that she preferred to stand in the cold than accept yet another ride
from him. She sighed. She was beginning to grow very tired of needing to be
rescued by Walter Skinner.
Not saying a word, Scully walked around to the passenger side and
climbed in. Silently, Skinner put the car into gear and set off.
Skinner had surprised himself yet again. Which wasn't really a
surprise, given his recent record. He had just spent the entire day trying to
avoid Dana Scully and now, here he was, driving her home. Again. But she had
looked so cold and forlorn, standing there in the gathering darkness. He
could no more have ignored her than he could have run over a kitten.
"Thank you." She said abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. He cast her
a sidelong glance.
"You're welcome."
"That's twice you've rescued me now."
He suppressed a smile. "I've been told I have an over-developed sense
of chivalry."
"Maybe I should call you Sir Walter Raleigh instead."
"Step on my coat, Agent Scully, and you walk the rest of the way,
chivalry or no chivalry."
She chuckled softly. Suddenly it was all right. The humour had
lightened the mood and, for a moment, Scully forgot the embarrassment and
raging sexual tension that had been tearing at her for the better part of
three days. She enjoyed his company, his dry sense of humour. In another
place, another time, they might have been friends. Subconsciously, she
relaxed.
Skinner sensed the tension leave her body and likewise some of the
tautness eased from his shoulders. Maybe it would be all right. After all,
it's not like either of them had ever said or done anything that did not fall
under strict FBI guidelines. Of course she had sung a version of "Crazy" sexy
enough to make grown men cry, and he had wrestled with a pink rabbit, but
other than that...Actually there were no FBI guidelines to cover Patsy Cline
and stuffed toys, so they were both safe, he decided. And as for what had
happened at lunch...well, he was a healthy male and she was a beautiful woman.
He didn't have to read anything into it other than the fact that all of his
hormones were still functioning normally. Perhaps a little too normally...
This time the silence between them was more comfortable, more like
Friday night. Scully sighed again and leaned back, enjoying the car's warmth
after the icy wind outside. She turned and stared idly out the window. They
were passing a movie theatre. "Othello" was playing, she noted.
"Have you seen that?" Scully spoke without thinking.
"What?"
"Um...Othello."
He glanced at her. "No, not yet."
"Me neither." Scully suddenly went cold. What if he thought she was
angling for a date? Hastily, she added:
"I doubt if it could be as good as the Olivier version."
Did Olivier ever play Othello? She couldn't remember. Still, he'd
played practically everybody else... Or was she confusing Othello with Lear?
"I hear he's working on Hamlet now," Skinner was saying. She looked at
him blankly.
"Who?"
"Kenneth Brannagh." He shot her a glance and she bit her lip. "I heard
he's filming Hamlet."
"Oh." She cast about in her mind for something else to say. "I've
always enjoyed the comedies more than the tragedies," she said, after a pause.
"So have I. What's your favourite?"
"Um...The Tempest. It's been playing in the park the last two
weekends."
"I know. I'm going this weekend."
"So am I."
There was a long pointed silence. After what seemed an eternity, they
reached Scully's apartment. Skinner halted the car and she reached blindly
for the door handle.
"Will your car be fixed by then?" Skinner asked impusively as she
climbed out.
"What?" She turned back.
"Your car. Will it be back by the weekend?"
She froze. "I...well, no. They said Monday."
Skinner heard the words coming out of his mouth, but couldn't seem to
stop them. "I could give you a lift. To the park, I mean. On Sunday"
Scully paused then somehow found herself answering in the
affirmative. "Sure. Thank you."
Skinner surprised himself by smiling. Her acceptance had sent a feeling
of happiness through him out of all proportion to what was actually being
said. "If the weather's all right, I'll bring the Matchless," he offered.
She gave him a genuine smile, remembering the exhilaration she had felt on the
back of his motorbike. She nodded again and closed the door. The car pulled
away from the curb leaving the agent alone on the sidewalk, the wind whipping
through her hair. Dismay slowly began to fill her.
"What did I just do?" she wondered. "Did I really just agree to go on a
date with the Assistant Director? -- I did, didn't I?"
She replayed the conversation in her mind. How had that happened? Why
had she said yes? And more importantly, why had he offered in the first
place? Nonplussed, she walked slowly up the path, reaching inside her pocket
for her door key. Then she paused, momentarily leaning her head which had
started to ache, against the door. It was going to be an interesting week,
she decided ruefully. And an even more interesting weekend.
THE END (FOR NOW)
(
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