Subject: Crossing the Line 1
Sent: 28/01 11:46 AM
Received: 28/01 9:29 PM
From: Sharon Nuttycombe, avalon@terranet.ab.ca
To: dobbo@c031.aone.net.au
Crossing the Line - Friday Night 1/2
Sharon Nuttycombe
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca
April 13, 1996
************************************************************
This is a Scully and Skinner (sort of) romance story. If the thought of
that offends you, read no further. There are no X-Files or paranormal
phenomena. Just a brief little interlude in two lives...
I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story, style, or
anything else. Thank you.
Disclaimer: Scully and Skinner belong to Chris Carter and have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement...yadda, yadda,
yadda. Enough of this...on with the story!
************************************************************
Friday Night 1/2
"Hell's bloody bells!"
Dana Scully kicked at the fender. This was all she needed - her
car had sputtered and died in what had turned out to be the most
deserted part of Washington DC. There was no garage in sight. In fact,
there was no one at all in sight. No traffic, no passing tow trucks,
not even an evening jogger. Of all days to forget her cellular phone...
Of course, she had been running late. She had left her apartment
practically at a dead run, pausing only to scoop up her purse and coat.
And now here she was, stranded. It was definitely going to one of those
days.
With a sigh of frustration, Scully angled the flashlight deeper,
trying to get a better look at the innards of the engine. Squinting
against the ever-increasing darkness, she checked everything she could
think of, trying not to get oil on her dress. Finally, she straightened
up, brushing her hair out of her eyes with one forearm.
It was definitely dead. Dead as a dodo. Dead as an Edsel.
Unhappily she looked down at her watch. She was going to be late.
Maybe if she managed to get a cab in the next few moments, she could
still make it. Hopefully she looked up and down the deserted street,
ignoring the fact that not a single vehicle had passed her in the twenty
minutes she had been stranded here. It served her right for trying to
take a shortcut...
Scully was just debating with herself the wisdom of walking to the
nearest phone, when the sound of an engine coming closer broke into her
thoughts. Hopefully she turned, praying inwardly.
"Please, let it be a taxi. Or a tow truck. Or a knight in
shining armour..."
It was a motorcycle. Scully watched as an anonymous figure,
hooded by a black helmet astride a gleaming bike roared toward her.
Surreptitiously she flicked open her purse and curled her fingers around
the gun she always carried. Not that she really expected any trouble,
but it was better to be prepared. This could be a dangerous city, after
all.
The motorcyclist noticed her and slowed down, coming to a smooth
halt a few feet away. The figure on the bike turned off the engine.
The abrupt silence was startling. Scully stiffened slightly, but didn't
move as the motorcyclist reached up and removed the helmet.
Scully's jaw dropped open in surprise. It was Skinner. But a
Skinner she had never seen before, dressed in jeans and a black jacket,
looking completely at home on the bike. Realizing she was staring, she
closed her mouth again, but knew her face must reflect her shock. She
just couldn't seem to reconcile this biker with the immaculately suited
man she saw so often at work.
"Car trouble, Agent Scully?"
Scully swallowed and nodded, taking her hand away from her gun.
Gracefully Skinner swung himself off the bike and walked toward her.
"Can I give you a hand?"
Finally, she found her voice. "I think it's beyond help." He
cast her a faint smile then leaned over the engine. Scully
automatically noticed the way his jeans stretched with his movement,
then hastily averted her gaze. This was her boss she was eyeing, for
heaven's sake. Carefully maintaining a polite distance, she too peered
over the engine and handed him the flashlight.
Skinner tinkered with the engine for a few moments, checking the
same things she had checked, before straightening up and returning the
flashlight.
"You're right. It is beyond help. I think your transmission's
shot." He closed the hood with a bang.
Dismay flooded over her and she subconsciously glanced at her
watch again. Skinner noticed her movement and allowed his eyes to
wander over her for a moment. The agent was dressed for a party...or a
date. She was wearing a blue dress that came to just above her knees
and matching high-heeled shoes. There were diamond earrings in her ears
and a faint hint of perfume wafted toward him. Something French...and
expensive. Realizing he was staring, he focused once more on her face.
Her eyes flickered back up at that precise moment to meet his and he
realized with a shock that they matched her dress exactly. What was
wrong with him? He normally didn't obsess over women's perfume or eye-
colour like this...unless he found the woman very attractive. Shying
away from this uncomfortable thought, he asked:
"Can I give you a lift somewhere?" Even as he said it, he
wondered again if she was on a date. Showing up for a date on the back
of another man's motorcycle would probably not be the best way to start
the evening. Suddenly, he hoped that she was not meeting a man.
Scully hesitated. She had wished for a knight in shining armour
and here he was, right on cue. The fact that he rode a motorcycle and
not a white charger, and was her boss in the bargain, came as something
of a shock. Always be careful for what you wish, she thought to
herself, you might get it. Once more her eyes strayed down to his
unusual attire.
"Maybe to the nearest phone...?" she said, somewhat hesitantly.
"You're obviously going somewhere important. And in a hurry.
Please...let me give you a lift. I'm not heading anywhere in
particular." He paused. "That is, if you don't mind riding a
motorcycle. And abandoning your car."
Scully paused in indecision. "Well, I am supposed to be meeting
someone..."
Skinner was surprised by the flash of disappointment that went
through him. She was on a date.
"Well, tell me where, and you won't have to keep him waiting
long."
"Her."
"Excuse me?"
"It's a her." Scully smiled. "I'm meeting my friend Celeste.
It's her birthday and we're planning to go to a concert in the park,
then dinner."
"I'll take you there." He could see the hesitation still on her
face. "Please. I very seldom get to rescue damsels in distress. Or
FBI agents either, for that matter."
Scully smiled ruefully. "Well, I do have to admit that I was
hoping for a knight in armour to come along just now."
Skinner smiled back and bowed in his most courtly manner. "Then
if my lady will come with me, her steed awaits..."
Scully had to laugh and for a moment they stared warmly at each
other. He seemed so different. So relaxed. It was like she was seeing
a whole new side of him. Or a more laid-back twin brother. Abruptly
she decided. Going along with the joke, she dropped into a mock curtsy.
"I accept, kind sir. And thank you."
Skinner nodded, pleased, and returned to his bike while she
retrieved her coat from the car and locked its doors. Skinner unclipped
a spare helmet from the back and handed it to her. Scully struggled
into it then fumbled with the strap at the throat, unfamiliarity evident
in her manner. Skinner hesitated, then moved forward to help her. As
his hands gently moved hers away and began to thread the strap through
the loop, Scully stiffened. His fingers brushing against her throat had
suddenly set every nerve on fire and she could feel the warmth of his
body close to hers. The strength of her reaction surprised her. She
hadn't felt a such a strong surge of attraction for a man in a very long
time...
What was she doing? This was her boss. The man she worked for.
The Assistant Director of the FBI. Sternly she tried to get her
emotions under control. She searched for something to say, to distract
her from the confusing signals her body was emitting.
"I never took you for the biker type, sir."
"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men."
"Or in their garages."
He grinned at that. "Actually," he said, "it's one of my few
passions. I put her together from scratch. What do you think?"
Scully felt as though he had just opened a window into his soul.
All this time, she had never felt as if she knew what made Walter
Skinner tick. And now she knew what one of his passions was. "I wonder
what the others are," she thought, then hastily focused her thoughts in
another direction.
"What is it?"
"A Matchless. It's a British bike," he added.
"Very impressive."
He finished securing her helmet and moved back a pace.
Thankfully, he gave no signs of having noticed her reaction to him. He
picked up his own helmet.
"I usually drive my Taurus," he said, "but I find the Matchless
helps clear my mind after a bad day."
"So you're just a biker at heart?"
"Uh huh. The call of the road, the wind in my hair...well - the
call of the road."
Scully stifled a giggle. Skinner swung himself back onto the
motorbike, jerked it forward off it's kick stand and looked at her.
"Ready?" He made it sound like an invitation to walk on the wild
side. Or maybe that was just her overactive hormones and overheated
imagination. Scully took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.
"Absolutely," she said and, putting one hand on his shoulder,
climbed somewhat awkwardly onto the back of the bike. Skinner started
the engine and the roar broke the silence.
"Ready?" He said again, loudly. Scully nodded and accidentally
hit the back of his helmet with the front of hers.
"Sorry. Yes."
"Then hang on."
Scully put her hands lightly on his waist, conscious that her
skirt had hiked up around her thighs, revealing more of her legs than
she would have liked, and that his body was even more muscled than it
looked. She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, and thought to herself:
"I really need to get out more."
Skinner eased the bike smoothly into motion and tried to ignore
her hands which tightened their grip around his middle. What was wrong
with him tonight, he wondered? True, he didn't usually see Agent Scully
in anything but neat, tailored office suits...and the feminine look
definitely suited her, but that shouldn't account for the strength of
his reactions.
"I really need to get out more," he decided.
* * *
Scully and Skinner roared through the Washington night. Scully's
reluctance to touch him had long since vanished, especially when the
motorbike had gained some speed. She had been clinging to him like a
barnacle...or a lover...for the last ten minutes.
"I'll be embarrased tomorrow," she decided, and held on even
tighter as they rounded a corner. At last, or all too soon, depending
on one's point of view, they reached the park. Distant music could be
heard - classical strings and harps. And there, sitting on the hood of
their car, was Celeste and her husband Jack.
"Is that them?" Skinner asked, slowing the bike.
"Yes."
They rolled up to the car and stopped. Scully removed her arms
from around Skinner's waist and sat back, surreptitiously trying to pull
her skirt a little further down around her legs. Skinner held the bike
steady, waiting for her to dismount.
Scully climbed off and reached up to remove her helmet. She
managed to unbuckle the strap herself and pulled it off, her hair
exploding in a static-filled cloud around her head. She tried to smooth
it down, then gave up in annoyance. Skinner meanwhile had turned off
the engine and was removing his own helmet.
Celeste levered herself off the car's hood with difficulty, aided
by Jack. The woman was heavily pregnant, and her husband subconsciously
hovered close to her. Celeste was the first to speak.
"So you found a date after all?" The woman grinned merrily.
Scully felt herself blushing a little and carefully did not look at the
tall man beside her.
"This is Walter Skinner. My boss." Celeste's eyebrows climbed
even higher and her smile widened. Scully hastened to continue.
"My car broke down. He gave me a lift." She gestured toward her
two friends. "This is Celeste and Jack Hastings."
Skinner reached out a hand. "Pleased to meet you." After the
introductions were made, Celeste took Jack's arm.
"Come on," she said, "we've already missed half of it."
Skinner hesitated and spoke a little awkwardly.
"Well, I'll see you Monday. Have a good weekend."
He began to walk back to his bike.
"Wait." Scully spoke before she thought. He turned.
"Don't go. Um. I mean, would you like to join us?"
"I'm not exactly dressed for a concert."
"That doesn't matter." Suddenly she very much wanted him to stay.
"Please. Won't you...it would be nice...that is...if you're not doing
anything." This was ridiculous. Now she was beginning to stutter like
a teenager on a first date. There is nothing remotely romantic in this,
she told herself, ignoring the fact that the night seemed to be made for
romance. The stars overhead were shining like candles, Tsaichovsky was
playing in the background, and her knight in black leather was standing
before her. Get a grip, Dana, she thought.
Skinner glanced at the others. "You're here to celebrate with
your friends. I'll just be in the way."
Celeste and Jack exchanged a look. "Not at all," said Jack.
"Please stay," added his wife.
Surrounded by three people watching him expectantly, Skinner
surrendered to the inevitable.
"All right. Thank you."
Celeste smiled and wordlessly took her husband's arm, steering him
in the direction of the music with undue speed. This adroit maneuver
left Scully and Skinner staring at each other in some consternation.
"Well, shall we?" he said, extending an arm. Their eyes met and
slowly she reached out to take it.
As they followed Jack and Celeste across the grass, Scully battled
a feeling of unreality. This was just too weird, she decided. Somehow,
she had ended up spending Friday evening with her boss. They were going
to a concert together. It was almost like a date. The unlikelihood of
the whole thing, contrasted to their usual transactions together, left
her speechless. She had lied to him, been suspended by him, pulled a
gun on him, had seen him shot, and had saved his life. Nothing in their
past experiences though had remotely prepared her for how to act or what
to say at a concert in the park.
For his part, Skinner was feeling as nonplussed as Scully. How
had he gotten himself into this, he wondered? Why didn't he just go
home after bringing her here? Because he had wanted to stay, he
realized. He enjoyed her company. He always had.
Scully glanced up at him, and he wondered what she was thinking.
Probably finding this as strange as he was. Hastily he searched his
mind for something to say. Some brilliant conversational gambit.
Actually, it didn't have to be brilliant, it just had to fill the ever-
growing silence between them.
"So...you like classical music?" That was safely mundane.
"Yes. Some. What about you?"
"Some." Another eternal silence. "Nice night, isn't it?" He
cringed inwardly. He couldn't get much more insipid than that.
"Yes."
Her voice was shaking. He looked down at her in some dismay. She
glanced back up, her eyes shining with pent up mirth and as their gazes
met, she laughed out loud.
"This is incredibly awkward, isn't it?"
He sighed in relief.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one feeling this way, Agent Scully."
"Please, call me Dana. At least for tonight."
"All right. If you call me Walter."
"Walter." Scully rolled the word around in her mouth. "You don't
really seem like a Walter, though. I keep having visions of Walt
Disney."
At that moment, the musicians chose to break into the music from
Sleeping Beauty, and the two looked wryly at one another.
"Just so long as you don't call me Goofy," said Skinner.
Scully suppressed a smile. "Or Daffy."
"That was Warner Brothers, not Disney."
"My mistake...Walter." Together they hurried to catch up with
Celeste and Jack.
* * *
The concert had been Celeste's idea, Skinner discovered. As it was
her birthday, control of the entire evening was in her hands. The woman
loved classical music and had chosen to spend the initial part of the
night at the concert, to be followed by dinner at the restaurant of her
choice. This latter decision was still up in the air, it seemed.
After the concert had ended, in a rousing burst of "Nessun Dorma",
that could have inspired even the most fervent opera-hater, the four had
returned to the parking lot. They waited now, for Celeste's choice of
restaurant.
Skinner couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed himself so
much. He liked Scully's friends and had discovered he had a lot in
common with the agent herself. They both shared passions for action-
adventure movies, seafood, Shakespeare, and exotic teas. This was
certainly a vast improvement over the Friday night he had planned, which
had involved a long evening at home alone, going over some reports that
were due on Monday. He had already been dragooned into continuing the
evening by going to dinner with them, and quite frankly, he hadn't
argued very strenuously.
"I've decided." Celeste interrupted his reverie. "Let's go to
Angelo's."
Scully groaned and rolled her eyes up. "No. Not Angelo's.
Anywhere but Angelo's."
Celeste grinned impudently. "It's my birthday and my choice.
After all, you dragged us all to that 1950's soda shop on your
birthday."
"I like fifties' music, OK?" Scully said defensively.
"It was like being in an episode of "Happy Days". I expected
Ritchie and Potsie to show up at any minute."
"Not Fonzie?" Skinner asked in amusement.
"I think he did. Anyway, if I had to sit through a night of Elvis
and Chuck Berry, you can go to Angelo's.
Besides, I'm pregnant, and pregnant ladies are supposed to be humoured."
"That excuse isn't going to last much longer," Scully said dryly.
"I know. Why do you think I want a Doctor along with me?"
"And I thought it was for my scintillating personality. Fine.
You win. We'll go to Angelo's. But just wait till my next birthday.
I'll take you to a country bar and make you line dance."
"Aagghh. No. Not that. Anything but that." Celeste clutched
her throat in mock horror.
They reached the vehicles. They had purposefully lingered after
the concert to allow the parking lot to clear and now it was almost
deserted. Skinner withdrew his keys from his jeans pocket.
"What's the address?"
Jack pulled out a notebook and wrote it down. Skinner glanced at
it, then put it in his pocket. He looked over at Scully, then at his
bike and Jack's red sports car.
"I guess I'll meet you there. I imagine you'd have a more
comfortable ride with your friends."
Scully suppressed an involuntary surge of disappointment. He was
right of course. The night was growing cooler and she wasn't exactly
dressed for riding a motorcycle. But still...
Celeste broke in.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have any room. We weren't expecting a
passenger tonight, Dana. Jack's got all sorts of junk in the back."
"I do...?" Jack began, then stopped as his wife kicked him in the
ankle. "Er, yes. I do. Sorry."
Scully cast a suspicious glance at their car, but couldn't see
into the back seat. Skinner spoke.
"Well, I don't mind if you don't..."
"Thank you." She glared at Celeste who smiled innocently. "I'd
appreciate that."
"Well, saddle up, you two." Celeste waved at them. "We'll meet
you there." With that she and Jack climbed into their car and pulled
out of the parking lot, leaving Scully and Skinner alone.
END OF PART 1
Crossing the Line - Friday Night 2/2
Sharon Nuttycombe
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca
April 13, 1996
************************************************************
This is a Scully and Skinner (sort of) romance story. If the thought of
that offends you, read no further. There are no X-Files or paranormal
phenomena. Just a brief little interlude in two lives...
I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story, style, or
anything else. Thank you.
Disclaimer: Scully and Skinner belong to Chris Carter and have been
used without permission. No copyright infringement...yadda, yadda,
yadda. Enough of this...on with the story!
************************************************************
Friday Night 2/2
Scully managed the motorcycle helmet herself this time, and swung
herself up behind her boss with at least a semblance of grace,
automatically looping both arms around his waist. "I'm getting better
at this," she thought.
She had never ridden a motorcycle before tonight. It was
exhilarating. It was also too damned sexy. She could feel every curve
of Skinner's body in front of her, every movement, could feel the warmth
emanating from him. As they rounded each corner, she tried to move with
him, leaning into the turns. The speed, the wind, and the sense of
power filled her with recklessness. She leaned forward and shouted
above the wind.
"How fast will it go?"
"I've had her up to 90. Why? Are you asking me to break the
speed limit?"
"Yes."
Skinner caught her spirit of adventure and, checking his
surroundings carefully, opened up the engine. In an instant it seemed,
they were flying. Her grip on him tightened, and she leaned forward,
careful not to bash his helmet with her own this time. The sound of the
engine grew louder, and the wind increased to a howl.
All too soon for Scully, the Assistant Director brought the bike
back to a more decorous pace. Skinner pulled up in front of Angelo's
and removed his helmet. Reluctantly Scully pulled her body away from
his, shivering a little in the coolness of the night. He felt her
shudder and turned, speaking over his shoulder.
"Cold?"
"A little. But is was worth it." She removed her own helmet, and
dismounted somewhat stiffly. Her eyes were glowing.
"That was marvellous. I think I need to get myself a
motorcycle," she continued. He felt a surge of pleasure that she had
enjoyed something that was so important to him.
"I'm glad you liked it." He hesitated. "Maybe we...". He
stopped.
"Yes?"
"Nothing." He offered her his arm again, which she took
unhesitatingly. "Shall we go in?"
Scully cast him a sideways glance as they entered the restaurant,
wondering what he had been about to say. Skinner interrupted her
thoughts by asking what kind of restaurant it was.
Scully sighed. "It's a karaoke restaurant. You have to sing for
your supper."
Skinner stopped dead and stared down at her. "I do not sing.
Ever."
"Not even in the shower?"
"Not even in the shower."
Scully sighed. "Don't worry. It's not obligatory."
His wave of alarm receded somewhat. "Good."
"But Celeste can be very persuasive."
The feelings of alarm came back.
* * *
It wasn't as bad as he had expected. Angelo's was a curious twist
on the typical karaoke bars Skinner had heard about (but never visited).
The food was marvellous, and the singing was...well, interesting. Only
those who were brave (or drunk) enough to humiliate themselves in public
actually went up to the stage at the front to sing their hearts out. As
for the rest, there were sort of group sing songs. Whole tables could
run through a quick verse of "You are my Sunshine" or "Home on the
Range", and the management would bring them a free round of drinks or a
plate full of fortune cookies. It was more like a communal sing-along
around a campfire than anything else. The food was prepared in front of
the patrons and brought to the table steaming hot. The atmosphere was
pleasant and congenial, the conversation sparkled like the champagne,
and the company...
Skinner stared across the table at Dana Scully, who was laughing
at something Celeste had said, and felt a sense of wonder. This was a
side of her he had never seen. From the professional, capable federal
agent he knew at the office, to the lady trading jokes and insults with
her friends, and joining in when the waiters had all gathered around the
table to sing "Happy Birthday" to Celeste...it was as if she were two
people. Or one very complex person with two sides. Which was the real
Dana Scully, he wondered?
Scully, looked up and met Skinner's eyes. Her breath caught in
her throat and, for an endless moment, they sat frozen in time while the
sounds of the restaurant flowed around them. Finally, Scully managed to
break the contact and looked away, a faint blush colouring her cheeks.
Skinner too, looked down at his plate and fiddled with a mushroom.
Celeste glanced from one to the other, a faint smile creasing her
lips. Abruptly, she leaned forward and spoke to the Assistant Director.
"I bet you don't know what a good singer Dana is, do you, Walter?"
Skinner looked up at her, then at Scully who was now blushing
furiously. Scully elbowed her friend slightly.
"And he's not going to find out, either." She rose, and the two
men half-rose from their seats too. "If you will excuse me..." Scully
left the table, beating a hasty retreat to the ladies room.
Inside, she combed her hair and retouched her makeup. After a
few moments the door opened behind her and Celeste entered. Scully eyed
her friend through the mirror.
"So?" Celeste said expectantly.
"So what?
"So tell me all about Walter Skinner. And why you've never
mentioned him before."
Scully shifted uncomfortably. "I told you. He's just my boss.
He gave me a ride."
"Just your boss. Yeah, right. You two are emitting enough
electricity to light up half of Washington. And he's 'just your boss'."
Scully put her comb back in her purse and refused to meet
Celeste's eyes.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I just find it a little
awkward talking to my boss on a social occasion..."
"That's not it, and you know it. Face it, Dana, the man is sexy
as hell, and he seems to think you're fairly interesting too..."
Scully turned away. "I am not going to have this conversation,
Celeste. I work for him, and I am going to keep our relationship on a
purely professional level." She paused. "Or die trying." With that,
the agent left the washroom, leaving Celeste watching her with a knowing
look. Scully tried to be cross about her friend's insinuations but
couldn't. The trouble was, Celeste was perfectly right. The man was
sexy as hell, damn it. Maybe it was just the jeans and black leather,
but the underlying current of attraction that had always been there had
suddenly erupted within her, like Vesuvius. It wasn't fair. If he'd
been anyone but her boss she could have acted on her impulses. Or tried
to. She'd never been all that adept at the dating scene, preferring to
throw herself into her career. But now, career and romance seemed to be
on a collision course, and she didn't know what to do about it. She
tried to picture Skinner as he usually looked at the office - suited,
official, and stern, but that didn't help. All she could think of was
the way his white shirts fell across his broad shoulders...his
well-muscled arms...
"Stop it this minute, Dana Katherine Scully," she thought. "Think
of something else." With a deep breath, and her mind fixed firmly on
Einstein's theory of relativity, she returned to their table.
* * *
Skinner and Jack had been chatting about a variety of topics.
The younger man was a civil engineer, hopelessly in love with his wife
and anticipating the birth of his first child with delight and some
trepidation. Skinner envied him his family and the happiness he
obviously felt. The Assistant Director was generally fairly happy with
his solitary life, at least until someone or something reminded him of
the possibilities he did not have. And tonight was one of those nights,
when he'd been given a glimpse into another life not his own. Skinner
sighed, a brief surge of melancholy going through him.
He recognized Scully's step behind him and rose to his feet,
pulling her chair out for her. She glanced up at him in some surprise
then sat down and thanked him. Celeste arrived moments later.
There was a brief silence at the table. At that moment, the
Manager of the restaurant, a handsome Oriental man, took the microphone
at centre stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen. Are you all having a good time tonight?"
Applause and cheers answered him. "Good. Then I'd like to introduce
the second part of tonight's entertainment - the talent contest." More
cheers and whistles. He looked down at a list. "And the first
contestant is... Ms. Dana Scully."
Scully stiffened in her chair as the restaurant filled with the
sound of applause. Celeste was turning bright red trying not to laugh.
"Well go on," she said, "don't keep everyone waiting."
Scully glared at her friend but did not move. Unwillingly, the
agent glanced at Skinner, knowing her face must be burning by now.
Skinner gave her a supportive smile and leaned over to whisper:
"You're right. She is very persuasive. Better just get it over
with."
Scully glared at her companions. "I'm going to kill you, Celeste.
I'm going to kill all of you."
"That would probably be a poor career choice, Agent Scully."
"Not at all. Justifiable homicide. I'd get off with just a
warning."
By now the rest of the audience was growing impatient and people
were calling encouragement to her. Caving in to the inevitable, Scully
rose from her chair, to increased cheers and started to wend her way to
the stage, with one last venomous glance at her dinner companions.
Skinner didn't know what to expect. When Celeste had entered
Scully in the talent contest while the agent was in the washroom, he had
thought about interfering. It didn't seem very fair, somehow. But Jack
and Celeste had been all for it, and he had to confess to a certain
amount of curiosity. He'd never heard her sing before. This could be
interesting...
On stage, Scully spoke briefly to Angelo, choosing her music.
Then she took the mike and drew a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as
silence descended over the room.
Skinner was stunned when she launched into the sexiest version of
Patsy Cline's "Crazy" he had ever heard. Her voice was low and sultry,
and had stunning range and clarity. He had no idea she was so talented.
Brains, beauty, and now voice. And the fact that she had chosen one of
his favourite songs...
As Scully let herself be lost in the music, she forgot her
embarrassment. She had always loved to sing, and this song seemed
especially appropriate tonight. She was crazy. She was singing her
heart out in front of a man she had to work with. But she didn't really
care anymore. Live for the day, she thought, as the song ended and a
roar of approval went through the crowd.
Skinner joined in the applause, rising to his feet as Scully was
given a standing ovation. She bowed slightly, if a little awkwardly,
and replaced the mike, then returned to the table, where she was warmly
congratulated. Her face was flushed, but her eyes were sparkling.
Behind her, another patron took her place and launched into something by
the Beatles.
Scully's gaze meanwhile wandered over her three companions.
"Happy?" she asked.
"Oh yes," said Celeste. "Thank you."
"I'm still going to kill you, you know."
"Uh huh. But not on my birthday, right?"
Scully sighed and leaned back. "I suppose I can wait a while."
"So what's the prize for this?" Skinner asked.
"It's a surprise," Jack told him. "You don't know until they
announce the winner."
"Well, I think you deserve to win," Skinner said to Scully.
"Thank you. But I'm not exactly holding my breath."
She reached for her glass of wine and brought it to her lips.
Their eyes met once more over the glass and they both hastily looked
away.
* * *
The evening was winding down. Several other people had entered
the contest, but no one could sing like Dana Scully. Finally, Angelo
took the stage once more and announced, to the surprise of no one except
perhaps Scully herself, that the agent had won the contest.
Scully squirmed a little in her seat, carefully avoiding
Skinner's eyes as Angelo made his way to her table carrying an enormous
pink stuffed rabbit.
"First prize goes to Dana Scully, for her rendition of 'Crazy'.
Congratulations!" The Manager handed her the bunny, smiling at her
bemused reaction and bending over to kiss the back of her hand. Skinner
suppressed a mindless jolt of jealousy at Angelo's kiss, then joined in
the general applause. Scully thanked everyone gracefully and sat down
again, holding the rabbit on her lap.
She met Skinner's eyes once more. "Just what I've always wanted,"
she said wryly.
"At least it's not a stuffed elephant. It would never fit on the
Matchless."
"That's a thought."
Celeste interrupted. "I think Jack and I had better be going. We
pregnant ladies need our sleep." Beside her, Jack reached for his coat.
"It is late." Scully glanced at Skinner, to see if he was ready
to leave and he nodded, "and besides," gesturing to her rabbit, "the
night just couldn't get any better after this."
By the time they had sorted out the bill and Celeste had turned
down Scully's offer of the stuffed bunny for her soon-to-be-newborn, the
crowd had thinned noticeably. Together they left the restaurant and
headed for their vehicles, Scully feeling slightly ridiculous carrying
the pink rabbit. They said goodbye to Jack and Celeste in the parking
lot, and Skinner offered to tie the rabbit onto the back of the bike.
Scully watched the Assistant Director struggle with the toy and tried
mightily to suppress her mirth. The sight of the tall, masculine
ex-marine fighting with a pink bunny...she could never have imagined
such an ending to the evening. Finally, she could contain herself no
longer and burst into laughter, tears swimming in her eyes.
Skinner cast her a rueful gaze over his shoulder, finally tying
the rabbit down. "It's not funny," he said.
"Yes, it is," Scully replied trying to get herself under control.
He looked down at the toy again. "You're right. It is." He gave
her a wide smile, then handed her her helmet. "I'll tell you what...I
won't tell anyone about you singing, if you don't mention the rabbit.
Deal?"
Scully stuck out her hand. "Deal." He took her hand in his own
and unconsciously ran his thumb across the back of it. Scully froze.
For an endless moment, they stood there, staring into each other's eyes,
all laughter gone. Finally, with what seemed like reluctance, Skinner
released her, and she swallowed hard. Not meeting her eyes, Skinner
mounted his motorcycle and she followed him, very aware of his body
touching hers. He started the engine and, with more speed than was
perhaps necessary, drove off into the night.
* * *
Skinner pulled up outside Scully's apartment, and waited for her
to dismount, his eyes unconsciously following the expanse of thigh
revealed by the manoeuvre. Then she was off, and untying the pink
rabbit. He too dismounted and removed his helmet.
"I'll walk you to your door."
"No that's all right. I'll be fine. Thanks." Suddenly, Scully
wanted nothing more than to get rid of him. That moment in the parking
lot...that one small touch had unleashed so much raw sexuality that he
must surely have noticed. Now she only wanted to get inside, before she
embarrassed herself any further. She straightened, her arms full of pink
fur.
"I insist." He hung the helmet over the back of the bike and
followed her up the path. Not knowing any polite way to dissuade him,
Scully gave up. At the door, she turned to him, her keys already in her
hand. She searched desperately for something to say.
"Well..."
"It was a good evening, wasn't it?" There was a slightly wistful
look in his eyes, as if he hadn't had that many good evenings lately.
Her embarrassment slowly faded and she smiled up at him.
"Yes. It was. Thank you for rescuing me."
"Any time." Another silence fell between them and he stared
searchingly down at her, as if he were about to say something else. He
leaned slightly closer and Scully's heart skipped a beat. Her mouth was
dry. The moment seemed to last forever, then the Assistant Director
backed up a pace.
"Good night, Agent Scully."
"Good night, Sir."
He hesitated another instant, then turned and walked back down the
path to his bike. Scully stayed by the door, watching him start the
engine. He raised a carefully casual hand to her as he pulled out into
the street, and she returned the gesture. And then he was gone. She
unlocked the door, feeling her heart-rate gradually return to normal,
and not knowing if she should be bitterly disappointed or relieved.
Pensively she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She glanced at her
watch. Two minutes past midnight. Friday night was over.
The End?
Sharon Nuttycombe
avalon@terranet.ab.ca
--"I have as much respect for the chain of command as the next guy.
--Only if you're standing next to Fletcher Christian." Adderly
-- (
geocities.com/hollywood)