Classification: SRG Rated PG Scully/Skinner romance
Summary: Scully asks for a transfer and Skinner tries to talk her out of it.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to Sally and Bonnie. Their editing, comments,
and suggestions helped immensely, especially after the file was lost and I had to
re-write this from memory.
This story is the second in the Shining Armor series. It can stand on its own, but
you might want to read the first story before this one.
This story may be posted where ever you like and passed around etc, as long as
my name remains attatched to it.
Comments, flames, suggestions for the next parts of the story, etc all received
glady at adtroi@planetx.bloomu.edu
Disclaimer: They ain't mine and I never said they were. They belong to CC and all
the folks at 1013 productions. No money made from this.
*********************
Shining Armor: Brass
by
Angie
Dana was cooling off after her run. She leaned forward, bending one knee while
straightening out the other behind her. She switched legs, not wanting to chance a
cramp if she didn't stretch properly.
As she sat down on the floor to stretch her other muscles, she caught sight of a
familiar figure at the weight bench. The solid form of her AD was replacing the
barbells he had used back in the rack. The muscles in his chest and shoulder flexed
fluidly as he moved. She found herself staring in fascination, her mouth dry. He was
wearing a tank top that clung to his torso due to the sweat that soaked it. His
muscular legs were exposed by the grey shorts he wore. She gazed at him , noting
the sparse covering of hair on his legs and strength that lay latent in him.
She heard a soft whimper, then suddenly realized that she had voiced it. She
shook her head, shifted uncomfortably as a wave of heat spread through her center.
Dana closed her eyes, tilting her head back and trying to remember the breathing
exercises Melissa had tried to teach her. Breathe in through the nose. Hold it.
Breathe out through the mouth. Again. She sat with legs crossed, back straight,
hands resting on
her knees.
It wasn't working. Seething with frustration, she sighed and opened her eyes
again...only to realize that Skinner was looking right back at her. she thought to herself.
She dropped her eyes, picked up her towel as casually as she could manage, and
stood. She wiped the sweat off her face and headed toward the women's locker
room, eyes on the floor.
She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around to find herself
face-to-face...with Walter Skinner. His hand slid down to her upper arm as she
trembled with the sheer physical reaction of his presence. Her head hurt slightly.
Another attack, courtesy of the mystery drug.
"Agent Scully. I just wanted to ask how you are doing. I expected you to take
the whole week off. No need to return to duty so soon after your...experience."
"Um...no, sir...I'm fine. I wanted to keep busy." She somehow managed to look
him in the eyes for a brief second as she spoke, but her gaze kept returning to his
chest. She stammered her way through a few more minutes of conversation then fled
to the locker room, pleading weariness and (truthfully) a headache. Had she spoken
to him much longer he would have known exactly what was going on in her head.
The drug she had been injected with was not completely out of her system. It
came back to her at odd times, preceded by the mild headache and made notable by
an inability to hide her emotions or to lie.
Once in the relative safety of the women's locker room, she grabbed her bag and
fled to her car, anxious to get to the safety of her apartment before something
triggered an anxiety attack. She could shower and change clothes when she got
there.
////////////////
Skinner was putting away the weights he had been using when he glanced up
and saw Scully sitting on the mats along the edge of the gym. Her posture was
perfect, shoulders back , spine straight, her head tilted up slightly. The way she sat
emphasized her figure and his eyes traveled over her curves. He remembered, briefly,
how she had felt when he lifted her into his arms to carry her. So light. Easy to
carry. His mind flashed from that to the dress she had worn at the Christmas party a
few months earlier. She had been stunning. And now, this, a form fitting green and
rust leotard that clung to her sweaty body in a way that he wished his hands could
emulate.
As his eyes feasted on her, she suddenly opened hers, looking directly at him.
She looked startled, but scooped up her towel and headed for the exit. He thought
she looked drawn and upset. Perhaps he should make sure she was doing well. After
all, the hospital had only released her the day before. He had wanted her to take the
rest of the week off, but she had insisted on returning to work immediately.
He caught up to her a few feet from the doorway. She trembled as he caught her
shoulder, spinning to face him. After a few minutes of conversation, she disappeared
into the locker room, leaving him worried about her.
He could order her to see a psychologist. But that wouldn't necessarily help.
He'd talk to Mulder. After all, if she were to confide in any one it would be her
partner. And since Mulder had a degree in psychology, Skinner could kill two birds
with one stone.
///////////////////////////////
"Well, sir, all I can tell you is what she told me. Whatever that substance was
they injected her with, it's still in her system. She has told me that every once in a
while, she feels emotionally vulnerable. All of her defenses drop, in effect." Mulder
sat back in the chair, a slight frown on his face. "She hasn't been herself since the
other night, though."
"In what way?" Skinner kept his voice flat, calm. As if he were inquiring about
lunch or the weather.
"Well, on her last night in the hospital, I walked into her room to find her
throwing a temper tantrum. Like a four year old. The nurse had turned off the
television and told her to get some rest. It took me twenty minutes to calm her. The
attacks get more mild and are not as frequent, but, still, she is not acting like Scully."
"I don't like the idea of sending her on a field assignment like this. But I don't
want to order her to take time off. You can give Violent Crimes a hand and she can
help out in Forensics until this passes." Skinner noticed a frown cross Mulder's face
and held up a hand. "It's only temporary, Agent Mulder. We can't let her out in the
field."
Mulder nodded reluctantly. "Of course, sir." He stood up and walked to the
door, where he paused and turned around, "And, sir...Thank you."
Skinner just nodded and Mulder left.
/////////////////////
(Two Weeks Later)
Scully sighed and looked at the form in front of her again. She didn't want to do
this. She REALLY didn't want to do this. But if she didn't get out of here, soon, she
was going to make a fool out of herself. The attacks came less often now, about once
or twice a day, and were pretty mild. No more temper tantrums or crying jags. Just
an inability to hide her emotions or to lie at all. Which is not good when your
emotions involve desire and affection for a superior.
She signed the Request for Reassignment and slid it into an inter-office mail
envelope. If she was lucky, Skinner wouldn't ask any questions. Or at least not
many. If she wasn't she would have to hope she could bluff her way out it.
/////////////////
Skinner sighed as he shuffled through the paper that comprised his daily quota of
paperwork. A request for family leave, due to the birth of a child, expense reports
from various cases that needed approval, a reprimand from an AIC to one of his
agents for loss of equipment. He didn't even give this request much thought until he
noticed the name of the agent on the request.
He felt slightly ill. Why would Agent Scully want a transfer? He didn't know
but he intended to find out. The space on the form marked Reason for Request was
filled in with the cryptic phrase "personal reasons", which could mean anything.
He buzzed Kimberly on the intercom.
"I want Agent Scully in here as soon as she arrives."
"Yes, sir."
As he waited he reflected on the night that he sat next to her hospital bed,
calming the terrors brought on by the drug. Mulder and Scully still weren't doing any
field work, as Skinner was trusting Mulder's judgement that she wasn't ready yet.
Perhaps that was why she wanted to be reassigned.
Skinner tried to concentrate on the other forms in front of him while he waited.
But his mind kept returning to Scully.
He had felt so close to her that night. Had called her Dana, held her hand,
stroked her hair. He had dropped his emotional defenses in order to help her and had
been affected by her on a personal level.
The feelings that had gone through him that night stunned him even now as he
remembered them. Aside from the anger at her condition, the worry about getting her
out of the warehouse without getting them both killed, the RAGE at the bastard that
had tried to rape her...he had felt a need to protect her, a softening of his heart when
her looked at her and a totally unprofessional wave of affection.
And there was more to his feelings toward her than that. He remembered how
she looked that day in the gym. How her skirts slid up a bit when she sat on the
chairs in front of his desk, to expose a little of the creamy skin they normally covered.
Just thinking about her lithe form was enough to cause an age-old, physical, very
masculine reaction. He wanted her.
But he was her superior and he couldn't act on those feelings. He found himself
looking forward to the meetings she attended in his office. Hell, he tried to find
reasons to have meetings just so he could see her. Since she came back he had her
working mostly on autopsies, so he would call her into his office, asking for a
clarification on this autopsy, more details on that one. Even called her into the office
just to assign her to an autopsy instead of just calling.
She had acted tense each time, often looking distracted. He supposed that she
was still embarrassed that he had seen he so emotional that night. He knew she
preferred to be in complete control of her emotions and that any lapse in her control
bothered her. But would that embarrassment be reason enough for her to want to
transfer?
//////////////////
Scully sighed as she paused outside the door. This was not good timing. He
was going to ask her why she wanted a transfer and she was getting that headache
that forewarned an attack. She was determined to tell him as little as possible.
She gave herself an mental pep talk as
she knocked on the door.
She opened the door and paused.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" she managed to ask without her voice trembling.
"Yes, Agent Scully. Sit down." He waited until she was seated then looked at
her expectantly. He handed her the request and asked, "Will you please explain this
to me?"
She cleared her throat. "It's a request for reassignment, sir. I need to be
transferred." She looked away from him as she said it, trying not to meet his gaze.
Skinner stood up and moved around the desk, leaning against the front of it. He
looked down at the petite woman sitting in front of him. Her eyes seemed to be
fastened on his chest as he spoke firmly to her.
"I need more of an explanation before I give up one of my best agents. Why do
you want to be transferred? Is it because of what happened that night?"
she thought to herself.
She had kept her eyes on his chest, which REALLY wasn't helping matters any.
So she met his eyes for a second and swallowed once before replying, "No sir, not
really. It's personal."
"Well, I can't approve your request as is. Truth be told, Agent Scully, there
would have to be a damned good reason before I would even consider reassigning
you." He paused then said "No one else can handle Agent Mulder." He smiled as he
said it, trying to get her to relax a little.
"I am having problems with someone I work with." She spoke clearly, but her
voice seemed strained.
Skinner was puzzled. Problems with some one she worked with, that were bad
enough she wanted transferred...he didn't think she and Mulder were having any
major conflicts. Whatever the problems, he didn't want her to discuss them here.
*They* didn't need to hear about this.
He took out a notepad and scribbled on it. As he handed the slip of paper to
her, he said, "Well, Agent Scully, I'll take your request under advisement, and let you
know my decision. Dismissed."
She read the note, nodded and walked calmly to the door.
/////////////////////////
Benna's Bar and Grill, one hour later
Skinner walked in and looked around for Scully. Not seeing her immediately, he
caught the attention of the woman behind the counter. She looked up and smiled at
him.
"Walt! Good to see you. How have you been?"
"Fine, Benna. How's business?"
"Busy as ever. Kinda slow this time of day, though."
"I'm meeting someone here, a red-headed woman about this tall..." he gestured,
approximating Dana's height.
Benna nodded. "She's here. I gave you two a table in the back room. It's
usually closed this time of day."
"Thank you. Can you bring us back some coffee?" At her nod, he headed
toward the back room.
He stopped at the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and was
able to discern Dana at a table hidden behind a divider. She was staring at her hands,
lost in thought, and didn't see him till he was standing next to her.
"Scully?"
"Nice place, sir. Come here often?" She gave a half-smile as she said it that
caused his pulse to quicken.
"That I do. Benna is a friend. And she makes the *best* soups I have ever
tasted."
The woman they were discussing walked in then, carrying a pot of coffee and a
tray. She set the pot down and unloaded the tray, setting cups, sugar, cream, and
spoons down before setting a tureen of soup and the table and giving Skinner and
Scully each a bowl.
"Here you go, Walt. Clam Chowder, made with you in mind." She winked at
him and walked off.
Walt ladled some soup into his bowl and offered Dana some. When she nodded,
he filled her bowl and waited till she began to eat and relax before he quietly asked
her, " Now, would you care to talk to me about this?"
"I'd really rather not , sir." She was flustered. She understood his reasoning in
not speaking in the office, but was put off balance by the intimate atmosphere here
and had been lulled into a false sense of security by the relaxed manner he was
exhibiting. That, and the major headache that the minor one had morphed into.
He put down his spoon and moved his chair so that he was facing her.
"We need to discuss this. I can't approve your transfer without knowing the
reasons behind your request. You are too valuable where you are. Now, what kind
of problem are you having?" He tried to sound paternal, non-threatening.
"Well..." she seemed to be having difficulty phrasing what she wanted to say.
"There is a man I work with that I have developed ...feelings for.."
Skinner felt like someone kicked him in the gut and a roaring filled his ears. He
choked down the emotion and forced himself to clear his throat, asking, "Is it, umm...
is this man Agent Mulder?"
She looked up at him, a bit startled. "No, it's not." She smiled a little as she
shook her head. "No, Mulder and I are best friends, but that is all. He's not my type."
Skinner was quiet for a few moments, as he reviewed the people she worked
with. The thought crossed his mind and he quickly
suppressed it, not wanting to take *that* road just now.
"I can't imagine who else you work with where such a situation would cause
serious problems. Is there more to it?" A thought struck him. "He's not married or
otherwise spoken for is he?"
"No. Not that I know of. I haven't told him how I feel. But he wouldn't be
interested. And I can't go on hiding my feelings, especially now. So it would be
easier if I transferred. Even if it were temporary."
Skinner's mind raced. He wanted to talk her out of this. It would set a bad
precedent. Mulder would be on his own. The sections were shorthanded as it was.
There were so many reasons to refuse. But the real reason he wanted to was
personal. So he didn't give in yet.
"You said a temporary absence would be okay. Why?"
She looked unhappy. "Because of whatever I was injected with that night. I
have come so close to behaving inappropriately every time I have been near...this
man. And I don't know how long it will be before the side effects wear off. And I
don't think I can control myself around him much longer." He was being so damned
sensitive about his. He actually seemed to care. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he
*did* feel something. He had asked her to call him Walter, after all.
His legs brushed hers under the table, and suddenly, all she could think about
were his strong, muscular thighs and how sexy he had looked in the gym that day.
The touch sent a shiver up her spine and she had to shift slightly in her seat. She
didn't dare look at him now, as she was suppressing her emotions with the last little
bit of control she possessed.
"Why don't you talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel?"
"You really think I should, Walt?"
"Dana, I think you should. *I* would want to know." His voice was husky and
low. The way she had said his name had affected him instantly. He leaned closer to
her, his head just above hers as she looked down. He needed to remain professional,
he had to. But he couldn't seem to draw away from her. Perhaps she would take his
nearness as a gesture of friendship.
Her head snapped up, then and their faces were just inches apart. Her eyes
fastened on his. They were so close that he could feel her breath feather across his
lips.
He had to stifle a moan and thrust down the urge to kiss her that was screaming
trough his brain. If he were any less disciplined, he would have.
At the same time she was struggling to hold herself in check. She couldn't
believe how close she was to throwing herself at the incredibly masculine body in
front of her. The last fine threads of her willpower were fraying and ready to snap.
"But there is another problem," she said softly, unable now to break his gaze.
"He is one of my superiors."
His eyes widened a bit. His gut twisted...she couldn't mean...
"Walt.." she breathed his name softly as the last thread of self control gave way.
She leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. Then she pulled back and looked at
him again, a small frown of worry on her face.
He reached out a hand to smooth the frown from her face. His other hand
grabbed one of hers. His thumb brushed the back of it as he leaned forward and
kissed her, his lips firm on hers.
"Agent Scully, I think we can work things out. I would prefer it if you stayed
right where you are." His voice was soft, but teasing.
She smiled at him, eyes shining.
He leaned over to give her another soft kiss and was startled by the ringing of a
cel phone. Both checked their pockets, but it was he who answered it, and he who
had to return to the office immediately.
He crouched on one knee in front of her chair, a grim look on his face.
"Dana, how much of what you feel is the effects of the drug?. Because I don't
want to take advantage of that. If this isn't what you truly want, let me know and I
will never mention it again."
Dana sighed and placed a hand on his cheek to reassure him. "Walt, I have
desired you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I have been falling for you since you
reopened the X-files after I was returned. Such daring, such brass..." She smiled
fondly. "To take such chances for us. I really admired that. " Her face became
serious. "That is why I lashed out at you when we thought that Mulder was dead. I
felt so betrayed. I actually believed that I had been wrong about you all along, that
you were
on their side."
His hand reached up to cover hers where it rested on his face. "I am on your
side, Dana. Do you trust me?" His eyes were suspiciously moist and Dana felt tears
gather in hers as well.
"Yes, Walt. I do."
They both leaned into the kiss this time, as each tried to convey the emotions
they felt through the touch of lips upon lips. Dana's mouth opened slightly and Walt's
tongue slipped inside, softly caressing Dana's tongue then withdrawing as he lifted his
head.
He squeezed her hand in reassurance, then stood and walked out.
Dana sat there for a minute, amazed at the events of the day. She was worried
though. Was it right for her to jeopardize his career, by giving in to her impulses?
Could she deal with a clandestine romance, sneaking around and always afraid of
discovery? Would such a relationship be worth it? Then she remembered the way her
head had spun and her pulse had speeded up when he kissed her.
END
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