xXx

EPILOGUE

WEST TISBURY, MARTHA'S VINEYARD. MASSACHUSETTS.

Three Weeks Later.

Walter Skinner glanced at the directions on the seat one last time and focused again on the road. A fine mist coated the windshield. The wipers swiped it off. It was dark, and Skinner gripped the steering wheel as he looked for the turn-off.

After Wisconsin he hadn't seen Mulder and Scully for a week. Then a week ago when things seemed back to 'normal', he’d been forced to throw himself across Mulder's body when he threatened Gregory Pinkus, calling him a monster. It wasn’t that Skinner doubted him...well...after the fact anyway. But he was afraid the accumulated stress from Wisconsin and the hostage situation in Chicago might have caused Mulder to have some kind of PTSD incident. At the time he didn't trust him not to shoot Pinkus. Mulder had to be temporarily committed to a psychiatric hospital. The whole case was typically X-Files; everything was unsolved but Mulder and Scully somehow came out of it all right.

He apologized to Mulder for not trusting him on the Pinkus case and the agent accepted his apology with good grace, saying he'd been pretty intense and couldn't blame Skinner for his concern. But Skinner insisted that they all see the Bureau psychologist anyway. It was his only demand after everything that they'd been through. He hadn't spoken to Mulder or Scully about what occurred in Wisconsin since the night he called Dimitri's brotherhood to cover-up the situation. Not a single word. Skinner wondered if they'd discussed their feelings at all together or with the psychologist. If they'd talked about him. He didn't think so. He based that idea on the fact he hadn't said anything to Karen Kossoff about them yet either. He hadn't even discussed them with his priest now that he'd started going to church again.

Skinner was still experiencing budget woes...and yes, he'd been in mourning for Dimitri as well. So, he signed off on the case report and just let it go.

After they'd found their clothes, guns and cell phones in Laura Massey's office, Skinner used Dimitri's phone number. A Russian accented voice answered. He explained what had occurred at the church and the voice asked for the address. Skinner gave it and then the man at the other end instructed them to leave, go to Mitchell Field and wait by the corporate jet hangers.

Skinner angrily threw his cell across the office snarling, "Leave?"

"Maybe it's better we don't know," Scully had signed. Even Mulder agreed with her that night.

Luck or God was still with them. They were able to walk to Skinner's rental and found Mulder's rental parked outside the fence at the back of Jack's Auto Ranch. Mulder's keys had been in his pants pocket. They managed to drive both rentals to Mitchell Field and returned them to the rental lot.

After about two hours they were met by a private jet. All of them were obviously suffering from various degrees of shock so none of them questioned the pilot or the taciturn man in the cabin who examined them. Luckily their worst injuries were cuts, bruises and exhaustion brought about in part from dehydration. Their doctor spoke very little English as he drew blood from them all but got it across that they would receive the results soon.

Their facial bruises barely drew a glance back at the Hoover; Mulder and Scully were always showing up as the walking wounded. Skinner passed his off as the results of a dropped left during a round of boxing. All their tests came back negative.

Skinner had no idea what had gone on back at the church in Concord. There were no clues about what happened to Dimitri's body, Ross Lyon's body....where Laura Massey's body had gone...nothing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. It was clear the brotherhood had powerful backing within the Orthodox Church, the Russian Government...maybe even the US government as well. He was willing to let matters run their course. He had faith that they gave Dimitri a decent burial with full honors.

Skinner could only hope the powers that be could mollify the local authorities and offer support to Lyon's and Massey's families. But it wasn't his problem. They filed no official reports. There had been no repercussions of any kind. Skinner merely reported to the local FBI field office that he'd finally located Mulder at the airport trying to get back to DC and he, Mulder and Scully left Wisconsin bruised and exhausted, largely silent and lost in their own thoughts.

But this past Monday Mulder stopped him in the parking garage.

"Sir!" he called as Skinner was heading toward his car.

It was still, 'sir'.

What happened in Wisconsin ran through Skinner's mind as Mulder told him he wanted to talk to Skinner and Scully. Skinner thought that saying they had much to discuss was an understatement. He almost laughed at the formality of the conversation and the irony. Even though they'd seen each other naked and heard their deepest secrets revealed, their emotions were well hidden again behind a facade of nervous hesitation every bit as much as their bodies were covered by their Bureau 'uniforms'.

Mulder had suggested they meet the following Saturday night in West Tisbury at his late father's house. Mulder and his mother paid for its upkeep after his death in the hope that if Samantha did return she might go there.

So Skinner had agreed to meet with Mulder and Scully in Martha's Vineyard. He rode the last ferry over and now was about to pull up to the house in question.

xXx

INSIDE WILLIAM MULDER'S RESIDENCE.

"He'll come," Scully said from a comfortable chair in front of the window facing the porch.

Mulder stepped away from the curtains.

"Was it that obvious I was checking?" he asked, giving her a self-deprecating smile. Scully rolled her eyes a little and Mulder chuckled. "Well I know he's a man of his word and all...well...I think he...I mean..."

"He'll be here," Scully said, putting an end to the matter. "You know that."

Mulder nodded.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

Mulder was glad Scully had come up early. They'd been able to have a good, long talk. They hadn't talked much about Wisconsin really...it was as if by tacit agreement that most of that conversation would wait for Skinner's arrival.

But over a glass of wine they had discussed the tension between them for so many weeks. They discussed the work, the quest and their commitment to it. They even discussed God and religion and what both meant to them now...and gradually the tension just ebbed away. Mulder again felt the warmth of Scully's regard, and dared to hope for the renewal of their official partnership and the beginning of a relationship too.

Scully fingered her wineglass and watched Mulder smile and take a seat across from her. He picked up his wineglass content to sip it quietly while they waited. Instead of the silence feeling forced and odd as it had so many times lately...it felt natural, and right, and Scully smiled as well.

She wanted to ask Mulder, 'penny for your thoughts?’ but she had an idea what was on his mind. They'd really done a lot to clear the air. She felt like they were on the same page in regards to the work and their partnership. And there was a pleasant warmth and anticipation of deepening their relationship that she could definitely feel as well.

Now they only needed Skinner to join them. Scully knew he would. She had faith that he would.

xXx

OUTSIDE WILLIAM MULDER'S RESIDENCE.

Skinner parked his Olds down the street from Bill Mulder's residence in order not to draw too much attention to which house he was in. It was a half-hearted and maybe ineffectual precaution but they'd agreed to do it. It was surprising how much risk they all were willing to take. Well, maybe not surprising after they'd all nearly died in Wisconsin. Skinner knew the epiphanies, the changes that could come from a near death experience.

The street was largely deserted but he recognized the car across from his as Scully's. Mulder's must be elsewhere. Grabbing the green bottle of Mosel wine wrapped in a paper bag from the car seat next to him, he smiled in self-deprecation. The offering of liquid courage had been a spur of the moment buy at a liquor store along the way.

"Spatlese," he mumbled, reading part of the label where it shown over the top of the bag. "A wine that tends to be more intense in flavor and concentration. Maybe that's appropriate."

Skinner exited the car and strode purposefully up the street, the bag tucked under his arm. The night air was balmy and he could smell sea salt on the breeze. He took a deep breath and stilled his mind, hoping to calm his nervous stomach as he headed up the sidewalk.

xXx

INSIDE WILLIAM MULDER'S RESIDENCE.

Mulder put down his empty wineglass.

"I'd like some more wine. Would you like some more wine?"

Before Scully could answer he was up and nervously heading toward the kitchen where they left the wine bottle.

Scully shook her head in amusement, put her wineglass down and rose to hurry after Mulder. She paused for a moment to admire his long, lean legs and tight butt giving thanks to Levi-Strauss, then she caught up with him and grabbed his arm. Mulder stopped, turned and looked down at her.

"Come back in the living room," she murmured, smiling up at him.

"You think I'm pretty funny, don't you?" he said, chuckling.

Scully's voice was very quiet.

"I think you're sweet."

Mulder stared at her, his hazel eyes intense and full of love. For a moment, the only sound was the ticking of the hallway wall clock. Then he touched her cheek.

"I'm going to kiss you."

"I know."

And Mulder pressed his lips to hers as Scully stood on tiptoe to meet him.

xXx

OUTSIDE WILLIAM MULDER'S RESIDENCE.

Skinner stared into a window in the front door at Mulder and Scully kissing. The bag with the wine bottle dangled forgotten in his hand. His body flushed with hot embarrassment. The scene was so idyllic, so intimate and caring that he felt like the world's worst voyeur for not being able to take his eyes off it.

"Christ...they don't need me," he murmured in a moment of self-loathing. He backed away and his foot hit a loose porch board causing it to squeak loudly. He glanced back through the window and saw Mulder break the kiss and look up. Their eyes met. 'Busted', Skinner thought.

"Here's here," Mulder said. Scully looked up and smiled in Skinner's direction. Mulder gently released her and went to answer the door.

Skinner smiled uncertainly when the door opened and Mulder stood on the threshold.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey. Come on in," Mulder replied. 'He looks tired...but really good,' Mulder thought as he ushered Skinner in and took the bottle of wine from him.

Mulder shut and locked the door, feeling a profound sense of relief fill him now that the AD was here. He didn't know what would happen next...although he hoped they'd all clear the air. There were a lot of questions to ask and answer...truths to be discovered here on all sides. He wanted truth to allow his relationship with Skinner and Scully to deepen even further. He loved them both. He didn't want to go on without at least knowing if it was possible to be with them both.

"I thought...you know...it's customary to bring wine," Skinner mumbled, indicating the bottle as Mulder set it aside on a small hallway table.

'Oh yeah...that's right,' Skinner thought. 'Remind them of what a by the book, tight ass you are most of the time.' He shook his head imperceptibly to banish the encroaching depression and self-doubt. 'What had Dimitri said after all? Trust in the ones you love and have faith in them and in God.' The least he could do was listen to the advice and thus honor his friend's memory.

"Good thing you thought of it, I only brought one bottle," Mulder replied, his face showing amusement.

Scully hung back. She discovered her hands were shaking after the kiss and Skinner’s arrival under these circumstances. She wanted a moment to catch her breath and calm her suddenly fluttering nerves. Skinner looked fabulous in jeans and a soft, short-sleeved dark green Henley. She remembered the muscular arms that the shirt flattered holding her protectively in Wisconsin. She had no idea what was going to happen next...although she hoped at least that they would all ask and answer many questions. She wanted the light of truth to shape the relationship between them and hopefully to deepen it. She loved both men. She didn't want to travel forward without at least knowing if it was possible to be with them both.

They stood awkwardly together for a moment and then Skinner dipped his chin.

"I'm sorry I...I didn't mean to stand there gaping earlier. Maybe...maybe you'd rather be alone," he sighed.

Mulder raised an eyebrow and looked at Scully. She bit her lip and shook her head.

"No, sir...I don't think that's the case at all," Mulder said softly but firmly.

Scully and Mulder walked forward and both of them wrapped their arms around Skinner, drawing him into their embrace. Skinner felt a tremendous weight lifting off his soul as he put his arms around them both in the dimly lit hallway.

"We're so glad you're here," Scully said.

Skinner took a deep breath.

"I know there are a lot of questions. I don't know if I'm ready for, for any of...this. I need to work through a lot after what happened in Wisconsin. I want to be with you…want to be with you both and work it out together," he stammered. But I'm willing to take it wherever or however far you want it to go," he murmured.

 "So am I," Scully said, raising her head and pinning Skinner's eyes.

Mulder studied Skinner's face and nodded.

"That makes three of us."

Skinner looked from Scully to Mulder, smiled wide and hugged them both tight.

-THE END-

Author's notes:

Beyond the end of the story it's my idea canon was a little different. LOL. I'm just one of those people who imagines Mulder, Scully and Skinner together I guess...either as firm allies and friends or more...what can I say?

"Our Ladies of Sorrow" started out as a somewhat different fanfic a number of years ago. In fact I had it posted on Three Way Stop for a while but removed it after the bulk of the story got lost in my old PC's hard drive crash. I always wanted to finish it, and one day Paige and I were talking about the story and I proposed we re-tool it and collaborate on finally getting it written.

It proved not to be an easy story to write. I don't think the difficulty had anything to do with the length, subject matter or imagery really. I think it had more to do with the fact that in the middle of it, September 11, 2001 occurred and also, personal real life intruded for both myself and Paige during the writing as well. There were points where neither one of us wanted to continue with it, especially for over a month following the horrible events in New York, DC and Pennsylvania.

But, during that awful time in September and the dazed days afterward, the members of the I Want to Believe list to which Paige and I both belong rallied together in support of each other, showing me what being part of a true on-line community can mean. Their continued interest in this story over the months, and their kind words as we worked to complete it kept me writing it to be honest. And also...I hated to give up on the story a second time. It was a matter of stubborn pride I guess. LOL.

The other thing that kept me going was the inspiration of Paige Caldwell's writing and conversation. She was intellectually stimulating to work with and her talent shows through in so many ways in this story, particularly in her creation of Dimitri Yvashko. She just had a lot of great ideas and it was a joy discussing the direction the story would take with her. It was just enjoyable collaborating with her all the way around. Real life responsibilities curtailed her contributions to the work at the end, but she's been there with feedback right through the final beta and I've really appreciated it.

So...thanks for sticking with a long story that was comprised of some disturbing images to reach our author's notes. I know it was a long road but I appreciate you taking the trip. Take care. Stay well and walk in peace.

Bests,
frogdoggie

Every so often a writer comes along who not only impresses you with his/her style, but tantalizes you with a story idea that you can't resist! "Our Ladies of Sorrow" was brilliantly conceived by frogdoggie and quite a pleasure to co-author. Although real life difficulties curtailed my collaborative efforts, I couldn't be more pleased with the end result. And I couldn't be more grateful to frogdoggie for his inspiration, vision and friendship along the way.

Regards,
Paige Caldwell