Subject: Crossing the Line 6
Sent: 28/01 11:50 AM
Received: 28/01 9:29 PM
From: Sharon Nuttycombe, avalon@terranet.ab.ca
To: dobbo@c031.aone.net.au
Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 1/2
Sharon Nuttycombe
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca
May 31, 1996
************************************************************
This is the second-last chapter of "Crossing the Line", a Scully
and Skinner romance. It takes place in a universe in which
Avatar never happened. Part one is still PG-13, but part two
will (finally) be NC-17.
I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story,
style, or anything else you care to mention. Thank you.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Linda Campbell, my co-conspirator
and unofficial, unpaid research assistant.
Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, and Mulder belong to Chris
Carter...Do you think if I said copyright infringement was
intended then the FBI would come to investigate me? Would they
look like Skinner...? Oh no - Canada is out of FBI
jurisdiction. Whimper.
************************************************************
Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 1/2
Mulder was brooding. Again. He rested his chin on his hand
and stared speculatively into space. He recognized the
unpleasant fact that he was becoming obsessed, but couldn't seem
to help himself.
Yesterday had been...a shock. He might have been more
surprised if a group of extraterrestrials had transported into
his office singing a selection of barbershop quartet numbers,
but he doubted it. Scully and Skinner...
He had been speechless, yesterday afternoon at the hospital,
when he had recognized Skinner's as the voice on the phone that
had informed him that Scully was in the shower. A shock. That
was an understatement. He had never suspected, never guessed -
- and he called himself an investigator. His powers of
observation were obviously on a level with the produce aisle of
the local supermarket -- and even potatoes had eyes.
It didn't help that Scully was avoiding him. He had missed
her at the hospital, had returned from his aimless wandering to
find that she, Jack, and Celeste had gone. He had hastened back
to the office...and waited...and waited. The only visitor had
been a courier with several truckloads of paperwork for him to
fill out, courtesy of A.D. Skinner. Skinner...
Eventually he had discovered that she had called in to take
the rest of the day off. So he had sat at his desk all that
long, lonely afternoon, forging through reams of file folders,
and wondering what he would say when next he saw her. He had
gone home that evening and stared glumly at the telephone -- but
hadn't called. She knew where he was, after all. If she wanted
to talk, well, she had his number...
He was being childish, he knew. Fine. What's the point of
being grown up if you can't act childish? He was feeling...put
out. Not jealous. Oh no, not that. He just wished she had
told him that she was...involved. He was her partner, after
all. Surely she owed him that much.
"You didn't tell her about Kristin." His conscience gnawed
at him. "True. But that's different" "No, it's not," the
voice inside him shot back. "Yeah, but..." This was insane.
He was sitting alone in the basement of the FBI Building arguing
with himself. "I'm an idiot," he said out loud.
"I can't argue with that." Scully's voice startled him out
of his reverie, and he jumped. She stood framed in the doorway,
her expression hooded. Mulder swallowed. What was he supposed
to say?
Scully braced herself. She had come to work this morning in
a foul mood. The tensions of the last week had finally caught
up with her, and she felt like someone had scraped every nerve-
end raw. Skinner, Mulder's unofficial jaunt to Canada,
Celeste's false labour...Skinner...It was becoming too much.
Scully had always prided herself on her control, but it
certainly wouldn't take much to push her over the edge today.
The oceans of coffee she had consumed hadn't helped; neither had
the ultra-strength aspirin. "One word, Mulder," she thought,
"just one word, and I won't answer for the consequences."
"Uh, hi Scully."
"Hi." Her voice was cold.
"I missed..." "Where did...?" They both spoke at once,
then stopped.
"You first," Scully said.
"After you." There was a brief silence.
"Okay." She came all the way in and shut the door behind
her. "Sure. Fine. Let's start with where you were this
weekend." Her adversarial tone surprised even her.
Mulder blinked. "You know where I was," he said, mildly
enough.
Scully narrowed her eyes. "Yes. I suppose I do. How was
Vancouver?" The sarcasm in her voice was not lost on him.
"Wet." The tension in the office began to rise unbearably.
Scully leaned against the wall. "So. Catch any sea
wolves?"
Mulder essayed a weak grin. "Not even a cold."
The humour was lost on her. "Uh huh."
Mulder was beginning to feel like a frog on a dissection
table. He shifted uncomfortably. "Look Scully, if this is
about my trip to Canada..."
"You bet it's about your trip to Canada." She pushed
herself away from the wall and crossed over to his desk, anger
rising in her voice. "You ignored Bureau policy and engaged in
illegal activities in a foreign country. You didn't tell me
where you were going. You made me look like an idiot and you
got me in hot water. I had to lie to cover for you, Mulder --
to the Assistant Director."
Mulder suspected that the last item on her list was
bothering her the most. Had she really lied to Skinner? Where
did her loyalties truly lie now? With surprise, he realized
that that was part of what was bothering him -- he had trusted
her unconditionally. Could he continue to do so?
"First," he said, trying to maintain his composure, "I did
not engage in 'illegal activities'. I took a personal trip
north of the border, and while there, did a little looking
around. There's nothing illegal about..."
"Mulder," she interrupted, "You were thrown off of two
Native reservations, were nearly arrested by the RCMP, and were
'asked politely' to leave the country!"
"Scully..."
"Let me finish. Worse than that, you ran off without me.
Again. I'm getting really tired of that. I don't like being
the last person to know where you are. I don't like having to
cover for you to our superiors, and I certainly don't like
worrying about whether you're all right or lying dead at the
bottom of the Pacific Ocean."
"Scully..."
"No. You went too far this time. Loyalty has it's limits.
We have to draw the line somewhere."
That did it. Mulder's tenuous hold on his control slipped.
She wasn't even letting him defend himself. "You haven't been
too worried about stepping over that line lately, it seems," he
said coldly.
"Excuse me?"
"Since we're on the subject of explanations, perhaps you'd
care to explain what Assistant Director Skinner was doing at
your apartment on Sunday. And why you just happened to be in
the shower?" He paused expectantly.
Scully felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water
over her. The fine Irish fury she had been working herself up
to vanished and she swallowed. He knew. Of course he knew.
Great. Oh well. Deal with it and move on...
"Not that it's any of your business, but there is a
perfectly logical explanation for that." She was proud that
there wasn't a single tremor in her voice.
"Oh good." Mulder leaned back in his chair and crossed his
arms. "I just love perfectly logical explanations. Pray
elucidate."
His sarcasm grated on her, and her temper began to build
again. She gritted her teeth. "We were caught in a rainstorm.
He took shelter at my place. I was cold and took a shower. You
phoned. He answered. He left. End of story." That was all
true enough, but oh, what volumes it left out. The sight of
Skinner standing shirtless in her living room, the light playing
across his bare chest...all those muscles...Skinner holding her
close...the warmth of his body...Get a grip, she thought
fiercely to herself. There were times for erotic fantasies, and
this was not one of them. She stared evenly back at her
partner.
"Uh huh." There was a note of disbelief in his voice.
Scully narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means 'uh huh'. Sure. Fine. Whatever."
She was going to kill him. She was definitely going to kill
him. It would feel so good to pick up the paperweight and start
beating him with it. Violence had never seemed so attractive.
"You know what I think?" her partner was saying, "I think
you decided to pick a fight with me about going to Canada, just
so you wouldn't have to deal with what's obviously going on
between you and the Assistant Director."
Her mouth dropped open. "I did not."
"I realize what you do in your spare time is your business
and that you have no obligation to tell me anything at all, but
I thought we were friends. I thought you might have confided in
me. And I also thought you had more sense than to get involved
in another office romance, considering how the last one ended."
Scully's hands twitched closer to the paperweight. "That
was low, Mulder, and I am _not_ involved in an office romance,"
she said through gritted teeth.
"Su-"
"If you say sure, fine, whatever, Mulder, I'm going to kill
you."
"Sure...okay."
"Fine." Scully couldn't resist the impulse.
"Whatever." He stared back at her challengingly.
Scully suddenly realized they were both trying to get the
last word. This was insane. Two grown adults, behaving like
small children. Fine. Women were supposed to be more mature
anyway. She turned away and crossed stiffly to her desk.
"I think we've just about exhausted the usefulness of this
conversation, don't you?" She sat down and began to sort
through some papers, not looking at him.
"I agree."
She did not respond. A cold silence descended over the
office, broken only by the rustle of papers.
* * *
A hot bath hadn't helped. Relaxing nature music hadn't
helped. Scully had lit enough exotic candles to start a forest
fire, and they hadn't helped. She had tried reading, but Jane
Austen gave her a headache. Everything gave her a headache.
The sound of her eyelashes gave her a headache. She had finally
opened the largest bag of potato chips she could find, curled up
in front of the TV, and watched everything that was on.
Absolutely _everything_. She had flicked unseeingly through the
news, cop shows, legal dramas, MTV, The Country Network, game
shows, prime time soaps, PBS nature shows, infomercials,
community news, British sitcoms, and The Weather Network.
Nothing had helped. True, she had a much better sense of what
was going on in her community, had rediscovered that she
_really_ hated heavy metal, and knew that it was probably going
to rain tomorrow...but none of that helped the situation she
found herself in.
Scully was miserable. There was no other word for it. Dry
waves of unhappiness swept over her at regular intervals, and
her throat felt tight. All she really wanted was a warm
shoulder to lean on and a little sympathy. She had picked up
the phone half a dozen times to call Celeste, but had put it
back each time. Celeste had enough problems of her own right
now. She wasn't going to burden her further. And of course,
her mother _would_ be out of town this week. There was no one
she could turn to.
Normally Scully would have phoned Mulder. He was her
partner, after all. He was always there for her. But not now.
Now he was part of the problem. Her mind replayed their fight
in harsh, uncompromising detail, and she shuddered. She
regretted her words...now. Of course at the time, she had
wanted to murder him, but now...now she needed a consoling
shoulder. And his wasn't available.
They had spent the day in frosty silence, speaking to each
other as little as possible. They had gone their separate ways
at lunchtime, and Scully, unwilling to face the rest of the day
trapped in the basement with him, had found an excuse to do a
_lot_ of research in the Bureau library. She had seen no sign
of Skinner, either, had seen no one all afternoon but Monica,
the librarian, a tall, willowy woman who always made Scully feel
slightly frumpy. Of course, given the state of her mood today,
frumpy was just icing on the cake. The agent put another potato
chip in her mouth and stared blankly at the home repair show
where a sawdust-covered man was explaining grommets. What
exactly was a grommet, anyway?
The grommet-man eventually finished and a pledge-drive break
began. Scully finished the potato chips and crumpled up the
bag, tossing it toward the wastepaper basket. Missed. Of
course. What else? Scully sighed and leaned back against her
sofa, considering the container of double-deluxe chocolate nut
fudge ice cream in her freezer. Tempting. Very, very tempting.
She went so far as to get up and open the freezer door then
stared pensively inside. She paused. "This is ridiculous," she
thought, "I refuse to reduce myself to a cliche." She closed
the door with a bang and wandered back to the sofa where she
wrapped herself in her most comfortable quilt and flicked the
remote control yet again.
When her clock chimed two, Scully was in the middle of some
Canadian show about a vampire who was also a cop. "Why not?"
she thought idly. "It's no less believable than Melrose Place."
And actually, it wasn't half bad. At least the vampire-hero was
easy on the eyes. That thought led inevitably to Walter
Skinner, and the way he had looked when...
Scully groaned and closed her eyes. She couldn't go on like
this. Her work was suffering. Her friendship with Mulder was
_really_ suffering. And she was suffering. This had to end.
Somehow.
Abruptly she leapt from the sofa, untwisting herself from
the quilt and strode decisively to her room. She was going to
talk to Skinner. They had to come to a solution. Talking would
help. It always did, didn't it? She ignored the lateness of
the hour as she pulled on a faded pair of bluejeans and a t-
shirt. Action. That was what was needed. Face the problem,
find a solution, and move on. And she was going to find that
solution come hell or high water. She was tired of hiding.
END OF PART ONE
* * *
Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 2/2
Sharon Nuttycombe
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca
May 31, 1996
************************************************************
This is the second-last chapter of "Crossing the Line", a Scully
and Skinner romance. It takes place in a universe in which
Avatar never happened. It is (finally) NC-17. (Everyone has
been very patient...)
I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story,
style, or anything else you care to mention. Thank you.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to Linda Campbell, my co-conspirator
and unofficial, unpaid research assistant.
Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, and Mulder belong to Chris
Carter...Do you think if I said copyright infringement was
intended then the FBI would come to investigate me? Would they
look like Skinner...? Oh no! Canada is out of FBI
jurisdiction. Whimper.
************************************************************
Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 2/2
Scully stood shivering in the Autumn darkness on Skinner's
front doorstep. She had driven straight over, not allowing her
mind to ponder...anything. For once in her life, she had simply
acted. So now, here she was, feeling like a complete and utter
fool.
"I should go," she thought unhappily. "What did I expect to
say to him anyway? 'Excuse me sir, I came over here at 2:00 am
to tell you that I am incredibly attracted to you, and that you
probably feel the same way too, given that you kissed me the
other night. Except you were drunk at the time and don't
remember it, so perhaps it doesn't count. Anyway, I just
thought I'd drop in to see if we could work something out.
Perhaps you'd consider moving to Alaska? Or getting married to
somebody? I know Monica the librarian is available...'"
A pang went through her. Even the thought of Walter Skinner
and...somebody else...hurt. A lot. And she knew, deep down,
that even if he did move to Alaska, or Vladivostok for that
matter, she would still feel the same way. Hells, she'd
probably follow him. This wasn't going to work. Scully turned
to leave.
* * *
Skinner set his glasses on the table with a bang. It was no
good. He'd been staring at the same piece of paper for hours
now, and he still didn't know what it said. All he could think
of was a certain red-haired Federal Agent. The way she moved.
Her body...
Stop it. He climbed to his feet and reached for the remote.
A distraction. Any distraction. Of course, at this hour, the
chances of anything good being on tv were slight. A quick spin
through the channels proved him correct. Infomercials, more
infomercials, a bad movie made in the seventies, and some damn
vampire-cop show. Skinner flicked the television off irritably
and, coming to a quick decision, reached for his coat. Some
fresh air, no matter how late the hour, seemed to be in order.
Quit kidding yourself, Walter. You know you're going to drive
by her apartment. Skinner scowled and told the voice in his
head to shut up.
* * *
The door opened. Scully froze in mid-turn as her boss
appeared in the doorway, carrying a coat. He too stopped and
they stared wordlessly at each other. Scully's heart caught in
her throat.
Neither knew who took the first step, but suddenly they were
only inches apart. Skinner did not hesitate, did not think...he
dropped his coat then slid his arms around her waist, unwilling
to question whatever quirk of fate had led her here. Her body
melded willingly against his. He dipped his head toward her
mouth, finally succumbing to the impulses he had been combatting
for what felt like a lifetime.
Scully forgot why she had come, forgot everything but the
sensations flooding over her. At his first touch her every
nerve burst into flame and she quivered in his arms. When his
lips descended brutally on hers, she did not flinch, but
returned the kiss with equal hunger.
He deepened the kiss, tilting her head back, his tongue
roughly demanding an equal response from her. Her lips parted
and she gasped as he probed deeper. Her body arched against his
as his hands roamed over her back and buttocks. He pulled her
yet closer, her breasts crushing against his chest. Scully
moaned in the back of her throat, her legs beginning to buckle.
Abruptly he reached down and lifted her, pressing her body
tightly against his. She wrapped both legs around his waist,
her tongue still duelling with his while he somehow backed up
into the house and kicked the door shut behind him. He braced
her against the wall, desire throbbed through him. Scully's
senses exploded when he bent his head first to her throat and
then to her breasts. Suddenly she had no patience for this.
She wanted him _now_. Her fingers moved of their own accord to
his shirt and she fumbled with the buttons. Impatiently he set
her down and pulled the shirt over his head. Scully caught her
breath as she ran her hands over his bare chest. She had
wondered what all those muscles would feel like, and now she
knew. He immediately dipped his head back down to hers,
scorching her mouth. It took him only a moment to remove her t
-shirt and bra. He slid his hands over her ribs then moved
upward to cup her breasts, ravaging her mouth while pressing
every inch of himself yet closer. She could feel his hardness
through his jeans. Scully found she could no longer breath.
Skinner felt her tremble, and a stray flicker of sanity
pierced the desire that was threatening to engulf him. He
should stop. They should stop. He looked down at her, her lips
parted and bruised, her eyes dark with passion. Stop this now,
he thought, while you still can...And then she arched her body
against his and ran her fingers down to the edge of his
waistband...and sanity bid him a fond farewell.
He swept her up again and she clung to him, locking her
limbs around his hips. He carried her to the bedroom and set
her on the bed. Scully tightened her grip on him and dragged
him down with her, rolling on top to kiss him deeply, her hands
moving freely over his shoulders and chest. She reached down to
unbutton his jeans, sliding them over his hips, then removed his
underwear. Skinner paused a moment to drag his socks and shoes
off, then turned his attention back to her. It took him only a
moment to remove the rest of her clothing. Scully twisted
sinuously on top of him, glorying in the feel of his naked body
against hers. She had wanted this for so long, had dreamt of
him for what seemed like forever...
Skinner was losing control. He tried to draw back a little,
but she wouldn't let him, her own needs dictating the pace. She
moaned and slid her hands lower, and then there was nothing but
need and desire. They were no longer Assistant Director and
Federal Agent but only two people who needed each other
desperately.
He ran a hand over the inside of her thighs, then moved it
higher, and Scully's fingers tightened on him. She whimpered,
and gasped for breath. Then, with a sudden twist, their
positions were reversed and, without pausing, he drove himself
deeply into her, groaning. Scully cried out, arching upward to
meet him. She wrapped both legs fiercely around his waist, her
body straining to match his every move. Oblivious to everything
but sensation and need, Skinner plunged into her again and
again, angling her rocking hips so he could bury himself ever
deeper into her. The force of his thrusts left them both
gasping.
He slid his hand between them and caressed her. A tremor
ran through her, then Scully called out his name as waves of
desire crashed violently over her, dark lights exploding behind
her eyes. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her nails
dug into his skin. Skinner stiffened. A savage shudder went
through him as he gasped and emptied himself into her. He
buried his face in her hair, groaning her name while Scully
clung helplessly to him, her breath coming fast against his
cheek and tears forming on her eyelashes. Then he collapsed,
his full weight settling on her. Silence slowly descended.
Scully quivered violently, aftershocks rippling through her
frame. Gasping for air, his heart racing, Skinner tried to
withdraw, ease his weight from her a little...and found he
couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could barely
see...
"I'll get off in a minute," he managed to whisper hoarsely.
Her arms unconsciously tightened around him. "Take your
time." Her voice was thin and ragged.
For an eternity they did not move, then strength began to
return to the Assistant Director, and he slowly withdrew, to
collapse once more beside her. His breath was still coming in
short gasps. He could feel her shivering against him, the cool
air beginning to chill both of their damp bodies. With hands
that shook, he managed to reach down for a blanket and dragged
it around them, pulling her even closer into his arms.
Together, their hearts resumed a more regular pace.
Scully blinked tiredly, then closed her eyes. She felt...
shattered. That had been...there were no words. Actually there
were words, but they were generally used to describe cosmic
events like the birth and death of stars or _really_ powerful
explosive devices...If she had to describe this, she'd probably
have to use the Richter scale. And even that didn't go high
enough. She clung tiredly to Skinner, her limbs entangled with
his, unable to move.
Sanity slowly returned to the Assistant Director. It came
back, took a quick look around, and decided to head out again
for a quick pint or two. Skinner didn't miss it. He didn't
want to deal with what they had done, didn't want to become the
Assistant Director again. He just wanted to hold the woman
beside him...for a little longer.
An lifetime passed. Finally, when he knew he could delay no
longer, Skinner reluctantly opened his eyes. Scully's face was
flushed, her body still damp with sweat. For a moment he
delighted in the feeling of her nestled closely against him, one
hand resting on his chest, the other folded around his
waist...but then he saw the bruises on her lips and the streaks
of tears that marred her face... and remorse shot through him.
What had he done? He had just brutally attacked the woman
he...No. Don't say it. Don't think about it. Just lie here
quietly, and maybe the world will go away.
It didn't. Hesitantly, Skinner brought a gentle hand up to
brush away the dampness on her cheeks. Her eyes opened, her
lashes brushing against his fingertips and she gazed at him
blankly. There was no recrimination in her eyes, only a sort of
stunned surprise. No wonder. He probably looked the same way.
Scully felt dazed. She had just had one of the most...
significant...experiences of her life, and it was with someone
she shouldn't be with. For a moment she wondered why. Why
shouldn't she have slept with Walter Skinner? Her mind went
blank and then she remembered. The FBI, her career,
professionalism, lines that shouldn't be crossed. Ever. A
familiar pain clutched at her heart and she knew it was
reflected in her eyes. The expression on his face changed, to
something very like guilt. Her pain increased. She wanted
nothing more than to lie here in his arms and wake up beside him
tomorrow morning. But she couldn't. Circumstances, pride, and
her sense of duty wouldn't let her. Slowly, Scully began to
gather up the shattered remnants of her self-control, preparing
to draw away.
Skinner watched her withdraw mentally and a piercing wave of
pain swept over him. What had he done?
"Dana," he said hoarsely, realizing it was almost the first
word either of them had spoken since she had arrived on his
doorstep. "I...I'm sorry." Her eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Sorry?" There was a note of disbelief in her voice. The
pain in his chest increased in magnitude. "Sorry for what?" she
asked, her retreat momentarily halted.
Skinner swallowed. "I should have been...gentler. Slower.
I never asked..."
A look of relief crossed her face and her lips curled upward
in a faint smile. "Slower would have been less...that was...you
were..." She was beginning to babble incoherently. Take a deep
breath, Dana. She did. She started again. "Fast was...good.
Better than good. I...didn't want you to slow down." This was
ridiculous. She was blushing. After what they had just done,
she should have been beyond blushing. The look of relief in his
eyes made her feel better though. He truly was...wonderful. In
more ways than one. Which brought her back to her original
problem. She had just slept with her boss. What was she going
to do?
Skinner watched the momentary amusement fade from her eyes,
to be replaced by a look of anxiety and guilt. Guilt he
understood. The larger issues were beginning to crowd in on him
too. He had just slept with someone under his direct
supervision. What was he going to do?
Scully began to slide backward out of his arms, her face
reflecting her emotional maelstrom. And suddenly, the pain in
her eyes was more than he could bear. He pulled her back into
his embrace and whispered:
"Wait. We need to talk."
Talk. Yes. They needed to talk. But she couldn't seem to
concentrate, considering...everything. Walter Skinner was more
than a little distracting at the best of times. Now...naked,
well, it would be like trying to ignore an out-of-control high-
speed train headed straight toward her, all whistles screaming.
"I should go." Her voice was no more than a whisper.
"No. Not like this." Without thinking about what he was
doing, Skinner bent his head once more to her lips, kissing her
infinitely more gently this time, determined to prove that he
was more than the madman who had attacked her at the door.
For an endless moment, Scully did not respond, then she
quivered slightly and her lips parted beneath his. Skinner held
himself firmly in check, caressing her lips lightly with his
own, but the kiss nevertheless held more than a little
desperation. Skinner knew that it was coloured by fear -- fear
that she might leave him -- but he couldn't seem to suppress the
emotion. He had spent a lifetime controlling his feelings, but
now...now they were getting away from him. Tentatively, he ran
his fingers down her body, exploring the curves that he had
missed the first time around.
Scully hesitated. They shouldn't be doing this...shouldn't
have...but she couldn't help herself. Where Walter Skinner was
concerned, she had less control than a fighter jet without a
pilot. Whoever was in command of Dana Scully had obviously
bailed out without a backward glance and was rapidly
disappearing over the horizon. She was running on automatic
pilot again, and she couldn't find it in her to care. She slid
her arms sensuously around his ribcage.
Skinner was gently but firmly deepening the kiss when a
stray thought sliced through his mind, and he pulled away from
her with a jerk. Scully's eyes flickered open in surprise.
"What?"
Skinner pulled even further away. What had he been
thinking...? "I didn't...that is...I...didn't use any
protection." He came to a stumbling halt.
For an instant Scully paled, her grip on him loosening, then
her mind ran through some rapid calculations, and a look of
relief flitted across her face. "It's okay," she said. "It
should be okay." She paused, then continued, seeing the
stricken look on his face. "It's not your fault. I...I didn't
think of it either."
That didn't help. Skinner still felt like a...well, there
were no polite words for what he felt like. Irresponsible,
selfish dolt. That was the least of them. He must have been
insane...
Scully cast him an strained half-smile. "Don't worry," she
said softly, pulling out of his arms and wrapping the blanket
more tightly around her, "I suppose the only thing wrong with
either of us is a complete lack of...patience." Her voice rose
slightly at the end of the sentence, making it into a question.
Skinner stared guiltily at her.
"Yes. Only a lack of patience. Nothing else." He didn't
miss the brief look of relief that crossed her eyes.
"Yes. Only that." They stared at each other, the mood
effectively broken, passion and need no longer colouring their
thoughts. With the return of reason came the knowledge that
they were going to have to face what had happened. They
couldn't ignore what was going on anymore. Skinner and Scully
stared silently at each other, a myriad of emotions playing over
their faces.
* * *
Scully paused a moment, then awkwardly wrapped a blanket
around her body and eased herself from the bed. It was probably
too late for modesty, but old habits died hard. Skinner did not
move, but watched her silently, with troubled eyes. Then he
reached for his jeans.
Scully averted her gaze and bent down to retrieve her
clothes. She followed a trail of garments back out to the
living room, some his, some hers, then she vanished into the
bathroom. Once there she ran the cold water and stared at
herself in the mirror.
She looked like she had just emerged from the other end of a
three-day orgy. Her lips were swollen and slightly bruised, her
hair rumpled, and her eyes dark with shadows. She shivered and
looked away, then rubbed cold water over her face.
Okay. She couldn't avoid the issue anymore. Actually, the
issue had just walked up and thumped her on the back of the
head. Hard. It was time to face facts.
Celeste had been wrong. Sleeping with Skinner -- *sleeping
with Skinner, oh my god, what have I done?* -- had not helped.
She couldn't think any more clearly now than she could half an
hour ago. They still had to work together, still had a
supervisor/employee relationship. This hadn't helped at all; it
had only made things worse. *But it had felt so good*. Scully
grimaced and stared at herself once more in the mirror. She had
to talk to him as she had originally planned, had to find some
sort of solution. And she really had to stop talking to
herself...
* * *
Skinner found his shirt by the door and pulled it over his
head. All he was missing now were his socks. Where...? Oh
yes, under the bed. He returned to the bedroom and was reaching
underneath for them when Scully appeared in the doorway. He
slowly straightened, and they stared at each other awkwardly.
The silence between them grew.
Scully was the first to speak. "I'm missing a shoe."
Inside, she cringed. Of all the things to say...
Now that she mentioned it, she was standing a little
lopsided. Skinner tore his gaze from her and cast his eyes
around the room. There. Beneath the chair. He bent and picked
it up then crossed the room to her. Wordlessly he held it out.
As she took it, their fingertips brushed, and Scully
shivered. Something flickered behind Skinner's eyes, and then
they were several feet away from each other again. Scully
looked down at the shoe in her hands and shifted uncomfortably
from one foot to the other.
"I'm..." "We..."
They both spoke at once, then fell silent together. Scully
looked up and met his gaze, unhappiness evident in her own. "I
didn't plan this when I came over here," she managed to say
evenly enough.
"I believe you. I didn't intend to do...what I did."
Scully drew a deep ragged breath. "We should talk."
"I agree."
This was insane. They were behaving like two polite
strangers. Again. After all that had happened. Life couldn't
get much more bizarre. She drew another deep breath. "Okay.
I'll start." He waited expectantly. "I guess we could say
we're both...fairly attracted to each other."
Understatement of the century, Agent Scully, he thought
silently.
"I suppose...this was sort of inevitable," she continued.
"And we are two consenting adults..." Very consenting, it would
appear. "But we're also both professionals. We still have to
work together."
"What exactly are you saying?"
She squared her shoulders. "I'm saying that we may have
crossed the line, but that we don't have to remain on this side.
Things can be as they were..." As they were? With herself
hiding in the basement and launching unprovoked verbal attacks
at her partner, and her senses rioting every time she laid eyes
on the Assistant Director? Even now, her gaze lingered
appreciatively on his chest through the open front of his
shirt...Scully bit her lip and pulled herself back together.
"We need to behave as professionals. And nothing more."
Skinner felt a brief, irrational flare of disappointment.
For an instant, only an instant, he had wanted her to forget who
they were, had wanted...But no. She was right. Of course she
was right.
"I agree," he said. He was proud of his voice. It gave
nothing away. As usual. They might have been discussing the
weather. He could feel the walls around him beginning to
reappear.
Scully nodded, fighting the absurd sensation of sorrow that
passed through her. Of course she was right. But then why did
it feel so wrong? Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. She
bent and slid the shoe over her foot. It was time to go. Time
to try to salvage whatever professionalism still existed between
them. She turned to leave.
"Dana." His voice stopped her in her tracks. "You're
right. About everything..." There was a pause.
"But?"
"But I'm not going to say I'm sorry." She looked up at him
in surprise. He continued. "Oh yes, I'm sorry about...well,
I'm not normally so out of control like that...and I'm sorry
about the lack of precautions...but I'm not sorry."
For some absurd reason, Scully was suddenly filled with a
sensation of joy. He wasn't sorry. Why should that make her
feel so happy? The same problems still existed, and they had
just compounded them...exponentially. But...he wasn't sorry. A
small smile crossed her face.
"Goodnight, Walter."
* * *
The fleeting moment of happiness faded as soon as Scully
crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. She
leaned against it for a long moment. So much for not hiding
from the situation. She was still hiding, perhaps now more than
ever. She braced herself. She was doing the right thing.
Wasn't she? Then why did it hurt so much? Scully couldn't
answer that question. Blinking hard, she pushed herself away
from the door and walked out once more into the cold, empty
night.
* * *
Skinner watched her go and did not move to stop her, even
though a part of him cried out to. She had to come to her own
decisions, as did he. The thought came unbidden to his mind:
"You're letting the woman you love walk out the door." A shock
rippled through him. Love? What he felt wasn't love.
Passion, desire, lust, maybe, but not love. He didn't love Dana
Scully. Did he? Only silence and the deepening chill of the
room answered him.
THE END (FOR NOW - ONE MORE EPISODE TO GO!)
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