TITLE: Allegro dans Adagio

NAME: frogdoggie

E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com

CATEGORY: SRA

RATING: NC-17, and I mean it. WARNING! THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC SEXUAL SITUATIONS. Once again, consensual sex between two people you may never have expected to see together. Forewarned is forearmed. If you don't care for the physical, graphic stuff, STOP HERE!

SUMMARY: This is a direct sequel to my story "Innigkeit". You must read the other story first or this one won't make any sense. The story attempts to answer the question of how Skinner, Scully and finally Mulder, deal with what happened in the Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys. Also note - this has become the second part of a trilogy. The third part, Crescendo will be out soon. FEEDBACK? LOVE IT - FEEL FREE TO E-MAIL ME. Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? Flames are for roasting 'weenies' with a marshmallow chaser.

TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Late this season I should think. Or, maybe next year. Skip the movie and go with this idea. HA! Slight referrals to "The Red and the Black" and "All Souls" otherwise no significant spoilers.

KEYWORDS: story romance angst Skinner Scully Mulder NC-17

DISCLAIMER: Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, and Fox Mulder belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use.

Adagio
by frogdoggie

Allegro - at a brisk lively tempo - used as a direction in music.

Adagio - 1: a musical composition or movement in adagio tempo 2: a ballet duet by a man and woman or a mixed trio displaying difficult feats of balance, lifting or spinning.

--Webster's Dictionary

Somewhere in the garage a CD player was cranked up in a maximum audio assault. Walter Skinner gritted his teeth. "I knew I should have brought my portable Sony," he thought as he wiped a greasy hand against the front of the coveralls he was wearing. The music blared and he couldn't help but catch the lyrics. "What the hell is that group's name?" he thought as the words broke against his ears.

Be what you wanna be
See what you wanna see
Been what you wanna be
I don't like what I see 

Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter chill
Heaven beside you...Hell within
Like the coldest winter will
Put heaven beside you
Hell within
And you think you have it still, heaven inside you 

Oh yeah, *Alice in Chains*. Christ. Well at least it wasn't Marilyn Manson. The jerkwad with the Harley had been blasting Manson's sadomasochistic satanic shit for the denizens of the garage earlier in the morning. Skinner was ardently grateful when the long-haired, bearded *Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider* look-a-like had roared off on his hog a half hour ago. God! Whatever happened to his kind of music? *Nam music?* he thought. The stuff he used to suck down into his soul along with the pot smoke he sucked into his lungs *In Country*. Jimi Hendrix, The Doors, The Stones, Janis Joplin, Otis Redding. Well for one thing most of them were dead, except for the Stones and some members of The Doors. Dead and gone. Just like a part of Walter Skinner. The part that died in the steaming God damned jungle near the Ho Chi Minh trail. 

Skinner pulled another spark plug out of his red, 1961 Chevy Corvette convertible and studied it with speculation. "Out with the old..." he thought tossing it into a box on the floor. The Napa Box was full of new plugs for the car. Skinner bent down and picked up a new plug as *Alice in Chains* continued to spill out of the CD player. 

So there's problems in your life
That's fucked up
And I'm not blind
I'm just see-through
Faded
Super jaded
And out of my mind

Do what you wanna do
Go out and seek your truth
When I'm down and blue
Rather be me than you 

Skinner grimaced. Well the song wasn't number one on his hit parade, but somehow the lyrics were apt. Indicative of his entire Godforsaken life right now. His life since the month he had walked out of the Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys wearing nothing but his white BVDs and with Agent Dana Katherine Scully at his side. 

That had been a day in the middle of August. This was September 23, the first day of fall but Indian summer was in the air. He had been in hell since the middle of August. 

He and Scully were held captive by persons unknown in a small room in the abandoned Boys Home. They had been forced to have sex under the threat of death. The act was committed to video for some unnamed, uncaring, unholy authority. Skinner had no idea whether the tape would surface somewhere to damn them both. With his luck it would show up as a screen saver on every fucking PC in the J. Edgar Hoover Building. And oh yeah, it was damning all right. Why? Because despite the coercion at the beginning it was obvious from their actions that he and Dana Scully had more than enjoyed themselves during the liaison. That obvious fact had been shattering for them both. Shattering but for totally different reasons Skinner thought with disgust. 

Skinner had held Scully close afterwards. Sought to comfort and protect her as she cried. "Just hold me, please. Don't look at me, not yet," she said. He hadn't looked at first. But then he had and the expression on her face had been... strange. He couldn't quite fathom what he was seeing. Her face was...open? But open to what? She looked slightly stunned but...accepting? loving? He had been overcome and kissed her one last time. She had been reluctant and sighed against his mouth. She broke the kiss and then looked into his face at last. She had touched his lips and shaken her head in negation. She had nodded away what had happened between them in one shake of her red hair. But she had allowed him to continue to hold her and he had stroked her, murmuring words of comfort, until she fell asleep against him. 

As he shielded her body from whatever was to come next he had felt a sudden loosening of something in his chest, deep in his heart. She had done something to him, touched his soul somehow. He had felt hot tears in his eyes and revealing words spilling out of his mouth because he knew what he was feeling and it profoundly disturbed him. He didn't want to feel it. He had to deny it and not believe it. He couldn't love her. Not after one night. Not after screwing her on a filthy mattress on the floor of a school for juvenile delinquents. Hadn't it just been lust? Hot, desperate sex between two lonely people who, let's face it, had little or no social much less sexual life at the moment. 

But the emotion was there, embryonic, but undeniable and it terrified him in it's implications. But the thing that had really bothered him, frightened the living shit out of him was that he hadn't been sure the love for Scully was a new emotion for him at all. Maybe it had been lying hidden for a long time. Maybe he had buried the love. Maybe it HAD been there all along. 

When the electronic lock on the door had snicked open Skinner had found it difficult to contemplate releasing Scully's slender, warm body in order to get up and open the door. As soon as they rose off the mattress neither looked at the other as they gathered up their underwear and quickly redressed. By the time Skinner had retrieved and donned his glasses from the spot next to the wall where Scully had so carefully placed them he was Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner and she was Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully and they were back to avoiding each other's eyes. Skinner didn't know what Scully was thinking. He didn't want to know. What he was thinking was difficult enough to stomach. He couldn't take on the burden of her thoughts as well. Not right then and maybe not ever if he could avoid it. Shit. 

They had physically left the room. Skinner hoped they had mentally left it as well. It was a vain hope as it turned out. 

Scully found her clothing in the building's lobby. Her cell phone and ID were in her coat pocket. Her gun was gone. Skinner's clothes, ID, cell phone and weapon were among the missing. At that point he was pretty much beyond caring. Scully had phoned for help. She'd called Mulder, of course. They had been the object of a state wide manhunt spearheaded by Fox Mulder. He had been close, 10 miles away when the call reached him. It seemed like half the frigging FBI had shown up to rescue them. Dozens of agents, like cavalry to the rescue, in bu-cars instead of on horseback. 

Mulder had taken one look at Skinner's face and for once (call the God damned Guinness Book of World Records), had been struck silent. Everyone followed Mulder's example and no one said a single thing about the A.D.'s state of undress. Both he and Scully had refused medical treatment. Scully had been particularly adamant. Skinner winced when he thought about why. Her breasts and the base of her neck sported several large hickeys. Jesus. Eventually Mulder had driven Scully home and Skinner had accepted a ride from section head, Roger Ward. A guy Skinner almost called a friend. 

The investigation into their kidnapping yielded little. Van tracks were found in the overgrown parking lot behind the school. A GMC van with tire prints just like tens of thousands of other tires on the road. Tire tracks to nowhere once they had reached the highway. The electronic lock traceable to a false company name and address. Nothing to help them find out who had taken them. The room itself was swept for clues. Of course they had found dried semen on the mattress. Before any DNA typing could be done Skinner admitted he had woken up on the mattress. It was rather obvious he had been having a very pleasant drug induced wet dream. No one wanted to bring up the subject again after his seemingly embarrassed admission. There just weren't any other clues. Nada. Zilch. 

Skinner and Scully had suffered through their debriefing. Skinner had let Scully take the lead during the meeting. He had been willing to accept whatever version of events she wanted to give. She didn't mention the sex. Skinner had been rather shocked that she'd lied during almost the entire interview. Scully wouldn't meet his eyes. It was evident that she was humiliated to be prevaricating. However, she also seemed unable to stop herself. She told the assembled investigators that someone had drugged them and then thrown them into the room without any explanation. She had no idea why and no idea of how they had gotten to the location since she had been out cold for most of the night. She also said Skinner had been unconscious just as long. She reiterated that neither of them had any idea why their captors had abandoned them. The last part at least had been true. 

Skinner agreed to it all and the case was marked as unsolved. It had been rather laughable actually because everyone believed them. Even Fox Mulder. He wanted to take the case as a fucking X-File. Only Skinner's insistence that the case file belonged in VCS kept him from getting it. Skinner knew VCS would leave the case open and then it would sit until the file developed dry rot. 

He knew they'd never find who had taken them anyway. In the long run it was immaterial. Scully's lies were of no consequence despite her guilt over telling them. No one would find the real guilty parties. The individuals responsible would remain a mystery just like the mystery regarding who had taken Scully after Duane Barry and the mystery regarding who had nearly killed Mulder in a boxcar in Arizona. Skinner knew who was behind the mystery. Or suspected he did anyway. Their mystery was part of the greater conspiracy. Their mystery was floating in a haze of cigarette smoke. 

Skinner knew that fateful night would remain a mystery unless he did something to rock the boat. If he caused trouble of any kind, the mystery would develop teeth, jump up and bite him in the ass. Well, fuck that shit. He could deal with that eventuality. He'd been shot once for being a thorn in the conspiracies side for Christ sake. Dealing with threats like this one were a common occurrence in his life. Still it made him writhe inside to think that Scully would have to go through the ordeal. It made him vibrate. It wasn't a good vibration. 

Just one more item to make his ulcer burn. A month of burning necessitating prescription ulcer meds that were finally starting to deaden the pain. But he didn't give a shit anymore. None of it mattered. It didn't matter because the only thing that really filled his mind was the confusion over his feelings for Dana Scully. He hurt, he suspected Scully hurt, and it sucked. Damn it to hell he just wanted to be able to cope. He wanted to be in control again. 

Skinner's reverie was interrupted by a change in the musical accompaniment. *Alice in Chains* was done and the group's discordant harmonies faded in favor of *George Thorogood and the Destroyers*. Old Lonesome George wailed out over the sudden revving of a Jeep's engine. "Well, that's a little better," Skinner thought as he inserted another new spark plug into the Corvette. The song *One bourbon, One scotch, One beer* sounded pretty damn good. Yeah, great change-up for the batter! Yessir. He could use one of each. Fucking A. He could use about a quart of each to drown out the previous work week. The past 5 days had been the worst since the middle of August debacle. Only the sixth day, the non-JOB Saturday, in his rented bay in Hank Luttrell's garage had been anything close to normal. His maintenance on the Corvette a welcome diversion. 

His mind wandered again as he pulled another spark plug. The week started out with a bang. He had another *Nam nightmare* on Sunday night. Skinner hadn't had one in a long time. Not since the sessions at the sleep disorder clinic. Not since the murdered call girl. But he had begun having them again after his little incarceration in the Home for Boys. He had awakened sweating and screaming. God, the dream had been terrible. He hadn't been able to go back to sleep. 

Monday morning everyone under his immediate jurisdiction had taken one look at his face and fled if they could. His long suffering Executive Assistant, Kimberly, had been reduced almost to tears. Skinner had ended up apologizing to her and asking if she had any Advil for the headache that was cracking his skull open. All she had in her desk was Midol. Skinner had choked the Midol down without complaint. He felt like he had a raging case of PMS anyway. 

Four Midol had helped his head and by quitting time he had felt a whole lot better. He'd gone home, fixed himself a decent meal and had been proud that he'd stayed away from the booze despite the fact that he wanted to drink himself into a stupor to forget about Scully. He hadn't been so proud about the fact that without the booze he had been unable to get her off his mind and ended up jerking himself off twice before falling asleep on the couch. 

Tuesday had brought a fight over his departmental budget as well as an argument with his dry cleaner's over a ruined shirt. Wednesday had seen a fight with of all people, the head of building maintenance over the leaky toilet in his executive washroom. Thursday heralded a knock down drag out fight with the VCS over loaning out Mulder for another profile. Mulder had expressed the desire not to be loaned out and for once Skinner had agreed with him. Besides the fact that VCS really didn't need Mulder's expertise on the case, Skinner knew Mulder wanted to stay close to Scully. He couldn't blame him. Scully must have been struggling with her own issues regarding their captivity. 

But, she had been keeping her own counsel which upset Skinner. Walter had a feeling it upset Mulder also. There were little signs culminating with his request not to be loaned out. Scully hadn't said a single syllable to either man about what had happened between her and Skinner. Walter admired her for her fortitude but he feared for her as well because of the possible emotional consequences. If she was going through half the hell he was he pitied her as well. And it enraged him further that he didn't know what to do to help her and he didn't dare do anything even if he did know what to do. For some reason the fact that he was struggling to suppress the entire issue didn't even register as a blip on his radar. It only niggled at the back of his troubled mind. It stayed back there, scratching like some hound dog asking to go out to relieve itself. 

Scully had admitted her feelings for Mulder to Skinner while they were held captive. However, she had tried to hide the depth of her love for her partner, tried to obscure the extent of the relationship. She had done it in order to make Walter more comfortable with the situation in that room. She had done it to help him function and to save their lives. 

But Skinner had seen the devotion in her eyes and heard it in her voice. He knew she was deeply in love with Mulder. He wasn't sure if they were in a relationship yet. If they weren't he thought it was only a matter of time until they were involved with each other. She had screamed Mulder's name when she came for God's sake. That was enough of a clue as to how she felt about him wasn't it? No shit. 

From Mulder's reaction since the incident it was equally obvious how he felt about Dana Scully. At least it was obvious too many in the Bureau. Word got around. Rumor and innuendo. Office gossip that had died down reared it's ugly head. But, Skinner saw little evidence of anything between the two agents when they were in his office. Both of them were completely professional. Even Mulder seemed to step up his polite sincerity during their reports to him. He suddenly seemed so sincere in his dedication to making nice for Skinner. Christ! And talk about dedication - Scully had taken off exactly 3 days after the Home for Wayward Boys. 3 fucking days leave. Of course Skinner had taken only one but that was beside the point. Scully was all agent, Ms. FBI, the model of stoic efficiency. Watching Scully hold it all in nearly sent Skinner straight into Karen Kosseff's Employee Assistance Program office. Almost, but not quite. 

But, every time Mulder and Scully met for a conference with him, Skinner squirmed in his chair. Mulder would invariably begin giving his side of the report first as senior agent. Walter Skinner barely heard a word Mulder said. All he could do was stare at Scully like some besotted teenager and wait for her to add her comments. He tried to cover his obsession with her as best he could and he hoped to God neither one of them noticed his reactions. This went on for a month. 

Then the inevitable had happened. Mulder finally made an asinine mistake. A typical Mulder stunt. He had gone off unauthorized during their current case and somehow persuaded Scully to join him for the ride this time. "At least he didn't ditch her," Skinner mused ruefully. But he was forced to call Mulder and Scully in for an explanation of why they were missing for 24 hours and then why they had turned up with a barely running Agency vehicle that looked like it had been hit by a semi or maybe a train. 

So, on Friday both agents had been due in Walter S. Skinner's office. Both would be in the hot seat. Skinner knew they both would show of course. Both would be sitting in front of him but he would only have eyes for one. And hot seat were two words he really didn't want to think about in Dana Scully's presence. 

He had been reading their report and the reports from the Bristol, Virginia Police Department when Kimberly had buzzed him to say Mulder and Scully were in his outer reception area. He had told her to admit them. Skinner had taken a deep breath and set his face into a neutral, impassive mask. 

Mulder came through the door first. He had a large bandage on his forehead. Scully had a smaller bandage on her head just below her scalp line. Besides the physical injuries something else was wrong and Skinner studied the agents as they walked into his office. 

He took one close look at them both and he knew. He knew without a doubt that Scully had told her partner about what went on at The Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys. Skinner's stomach lurched and his mouth went as dry as dust. Neither agent would meet his eyes. They both dripped professional decorum. Stiff and properly attentive. Except for the fact that they wouldn't look in his direction. All right if you want to play it that way he thought I can damn well play it as it lays too. 

"Sit down," he commanded tersely. He inclined his head towards the ubiquitous chairs placed side by side before his desk. Mulder and Scully sat as if someone had suddenly shouted duck and cover. Skinner took a few more minutes to glance through the reports. He did it mostly to compose himself further and not to refresh his memory. 

Finally he spoke, "Agent Mulder. Do you have anything you'd like to add to this report regarding uh, the incident with the J.I. Case backhoe and the Ford Crown Victoria?" 

"No, sir. I think the report sums it up. You should also have the police report included there as well." 

Short and too the point Skinner thought. Icy calm except for his eyes. Mulder was looking at him now, he had to in order not to appear completely insubordinate. His eyes, usually hazel were dark with tumultuous emotion. Mulder's lips were tight. Skinner felt his jaw tensing in response. He didn't want to look at him anymore. He wanted to look at Scully. But that would be bad as well. He settled for looking down at the report again. 

"I see that Agent Mulder. Do you have anything to add, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked glancing towards the red headed woman. 

"No sir, Agent Mulder is quite correct. The report speaks for itself." 

So formal. So clipped and precise Skinner thought. He looked up and caught her eyes square on. He cringed inwardly because they were filled with pain. He saw it despite the fact that she tried to hide it from him. 

Mulder cleared his throat, "Will that be all sir?" he asked.

Skinner swiveled his head in Mulder's direction. Mulder was staring at him and his face was blank now. His eyes were hooded. Skinner had seen that expression before. Fox *I'll just put on my poker face so you can't read a fucking thing I'm thinking* Mulder. Skinner's mouth tightened into a thin, hard line. A dull ache began to throb just in back of the bridge of his nose. "Shit," he thought. Well he wasn't through with either of them yet. He had to make this look good. He had to look like the usual by the book, ball breaking Walter Skinner. 

If Skinner had stopped at this juncture to realize what he was about to do to Mulder and why, he would have been extremely upset and guilty. However, the depth of his emotional stress caused him to barely realize why he reacted as he did that afternoon. It was only later, after both Mulder and Scully had left the meeting that Skinner broke into a cold sweat over his treatment of Fox Mulder. 

"No. Agent Mulder, that is NOT all. Let me get this straight one more time. You're telling me that you were in pursuit of three males, ages 13, 15 and 17. All juveniles. Is that correct?" 

"Yes sir." 

"And these three boys were responsible for the UFO incidents near Bristol that you originally thought were genuine and which you had gone down to Virginia to investigate?" 

"Correct, sir. The sightings were a hoax," Scully added flatly. 

"Well, I'd have to say that much is self evident Agent Scully. "Wouldn't you say it was self-evident, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked pinning Mulder with his eyes. His voice dripped with sarcasm. 

"Not necessarily, I..." Mulder's voice was low and he shifted under Skinner's gaze. 

Skinner broke in before Mulder could get another word out, "I would think if the hoax had been obvious to Agent Scully, the local authorities, the local press and even the boys parents that you would have realized the sightings were a hoax as well, wouldn't you Agent Mulder?" 

"Sir, I don't think..." Mulder began. 

"THAT statement is self evident as well, Agent Mulder." Skinner barked silencing Mulder immediately. "You're not thinking in this situation is why you're getting your ass kicked in here this afternoon, isn't it?" Skinner hissed his voice menacing. "And it's why Agent Scully is being forced to sit here and watch my foot connect with it, isn't it Agent Mulder?" 

Mulder's mouth opened in a stunned expression. Scully's lips parted as well. <Oh God, what, what's going on here?> Scully had just enough time to think the thought before Skinner pressed on, relentless in his questioning. 

"So, despite the fact that the local police told you they had the situation under control, you and...what does it say here?..." Skinner rifled through the reports, "a *reluctant*, Agent Scully went in pursuit of these three young men and cornered them in the department of public works equipment and supply yard?" Skinner continued. 

"We cornered them, sir, yes, but Scully..." Mulder began finally finding his voice. Anger was creeping into it despite his attempt at iron control. 

"You drove in there with Agent Scully in the Crown Victoria?" Skinner snapped interrupting Mulder's protest. 

"Yes. So what?" Mulder snapped. His breathing was starting to pick up just slightly. Scully glanced over at him. Mulder was struggling desperately to keep control. There were spots of color in his cheeks and his eyes were narrowing into slits. Scully looked back at Skinner. Identical expression. "Shit," she thought. He's going to really stick it to Mulder. This...this isn't right." She became instantly incensed. Her face filled with color. <How dare he do this to Mulder. What the hell is wrong with him?> But of course she knew what was wrong and she shook slightly. Skinner was jealous. Skinner was jealous of Mulder. "Oh shit," she thought. She had to do something about this fast. She interrupted them both and her voice was tight with her suppressed anger and fear. 

"Sir, Agent Mulder had discovered earlier that the oldest boy, the ring leader, Calvin Mathis, had insisted he was an abductee. It was common knowledge that he thought he had been taken aboard UFOs since the age of 4. Calvin was deeply disturbed and in danger of hurting himself and others at this point. Agent Mulder acted out of concern for him and the other two boys. He was more then justified in his pursuit of them into that municipal lot." 

"Don't defend him Scully," Skinner thought, "Don't even try to help out the little prick." In the back of his mind he knew something was seriously wrong with his reactions during this meeting. Meeting? It was a fucking war now. A war of wills between him and Mulder. He was determined to come out on top. But he saw the look of disapproval on Scully's face. He didn't want her to disapprove. He wanted her to..to... 

"So he was perpetrating this hoax because he thought he was an abductee?" Skinner asked, "or perhaps he was doing it because he was just...unstable?" Skinner lowered his voice, softened it because he was addressing this question to Scully. He gazed into her blue eyes. God, she, she's so beautiful he thought. He had to make her realize he was doing this for her own good. A voice in the back of his mind said, "Walter, you are really fucked." He ignored it. 

Mulder interjected the answer. Skinner's jaw flexed and he swiveled his head back towards Mulder, eyebrows raised as the agent spoke. Mulder's voice dripped ice but his eyes were on fire. 

"Calvin perpetrated the hoax in order to get people to believe him, sir. He thought if he could manufacture his own UFO flap then his parents and everyone else from his high school classmates to the police and press would realize he had been telling the truth all along," Mulder answered. 

Scully watched in horror as the scene in the office continued to spiral out of control. She realized with cold logic that Skinner was chipping away at Mulder. Skinner was upping the ante on a routine calling on the carpet in order to humiliate Mulder and impress her with his power, authority, masculinity? Skinner was throwing his weight around and pulling rank in the worst way in order to get a rise out of Mulder. He wanted Mulder to do something really insubordinate so that he could slap him down hard. This was some kind of dominance display all right and Scully was disgusted almost beyond words. How could Skinner possibly think she would find this acceptable? Be impressed, aroused? Not bloody likely. What can I say to stop this she thought, her mind spinning. What can I say? Mulder was speaking again and she snapped back to attention to hear his words. 

"Sir, I wanted to try to persuade Calvin to let us help him. He...he was a very frightened and disturbed young man. I was hoping..." 

"Frightened and disturbed enough to hot-wire a J. I. Case backhoe and use it to ram your Crown Victoria while both of you sat helplessly inside because the car had suddenly refused to start? Is that a fair assumption Agent Mulder?" 

"Fair? Uh, none of this seems very fair, sir..." Mulder hissed his words. Scully thought his voice sounded just like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. A very short fuse. She wanted to say something, anything. She did and it was the wrong thing to say and she kicked herself mentally immediately after opening her mouth. 

"Essentially yes, sir." Scully blurted out. Mulder's head shot sideways and he looked at her. His expression was a rictus of emotion. Anger, sadness at his perceived betrayal by her, more anger, more sadness and then, oh fuck - guilt. She could almost hear him saying, <God, I'm so sorry, Scully. I got us into this and now I don't know how to get us out and I'm going to lose it here in a second and then, and then>.....Scully shook her head into his stricken hazel eyes. 

Her look spoke volumes, "No, Mulder, I'm not betraying you, I made a stupid comment. I'm guilty too. Forgive me. I forgive you. Don't worry, I'll take care of this." It all passed between them in the silent communication of two partners who knew each other so well. 

Scully reached over and gently brushed Mulder's arm. The contact calmed Mulder almost instantly. He swallowed and shut his eyes for a moment. His shoulders sagged imperceptibly and he shifted back in his chair. Scully withdrew her hand and placed it with her other hand in her lap. She held her hands together very tightly because they were starting to shake with barely contained rage. 

She heard Skinner's intake of breath as she touched Mulder's arm. She looked up and glared at Skinner, "Just keep it up, you bastard," her look told him. "keep it up and I'll flay you alive." 

Skinner's eyes were locked on hers now. She looked deeply into them. They belayed all his actions. They were saying, "Stop me, help me." It began to dawn on Scully that maybe Skinner realized what he was doing but was temporarily powerless to stop it. There was more going on here then Skinner screwing with Mulder's head. Skinner's head was in trouble and that idea frightened Scully. She needed to get to him and help him break out of this situation. She had to help him realize what he was doing was wrong. She wanted him to come to his senses, to come back to reality. 

"Sir, BOTH Agent Mulder and I did what we thought was necessary to help a very troubled person. Whether the UFO scenario was true or not became rather immaterial because the Mathis boy believed it and that was what really mattered that night in the municipal lot. BOTH Agent Mulder and I wanted to help the boy. We knew we were taking a risk but if you had seen Calvin's pain I think you would have taken the risk as well...Walter." 

Scully spoke softly and the use of Skinner's first name was a revealing gamble that brought another hurt look from Mulder. But, she had to use Skinner's Christian name no matter what the cost at that moment. She needed a shock to jolt Skinner. Apparently her gamble was going to pay off. 

Skinner blinked. As he looked at her his hands shook slightly and then he swallowed hard. Whatever unpleasant irrationality that had been driving him disappeared as he gazed into her eyes. The old acerbic Skinner returned. He was still going to give them a hard time but it was more in line with bluff and bluster and not the crazy testosterone filled one-upmanship that he had been performing. 

Skinner sighed and he reached a hand up to rub his forehead. "What the fuck was I doing?" he thought. He was suddenly afraid. He could hardly remember what he had been saying. Oh Christ he had been really out of line. Really unprofessional. Oh God. This was bad. He looked at Scully again. Her expression was filled with kindness. It, it would be ok he thought. I'll just finish this up now...just get it over with...

 "I, I'm sorry, what was I saying?" he asked quietly. 

Mulder and Scully glanced at each other. Mulder spoke. 

"You were just going over the part about the car again sir." 

"Yes, you were just wrapping things up," Scully added sympathetically. 

Skinner shook his head. "Right," he thought. "I'd better wrap this fucking show up." He knew where Scully was coming from now. She wanted to face the music and get the fuck out of his office. Skinner sighed again. Of course she did. And suddenly Skinner realized he wanted them both the hell out of his sight as well. 

"So once they rammed the car you were both knocked unconscious and when you woke up you were locked in the metal equipment shed?" 

"Yes, sir. Agent Scully and I were trapped for approximately 24 hours. The boys had taken our cell phones and our guns. They had duct taped our hands and feet. They had double locked the shed's door with padlocks and a chain through the handles. If it hadn't been for the screen covered ventilation openings near the ceiling we would have suffocated, sir. At any rate, they threw us in the shed on a Saturday night. When the Bristol Sanitary Engineers reported for work on Monday they let us out." 

"I take it your mouths weren't taped shut?" Skinner asked with an arched eyebrow. 

"No, sir you would be correct to assume we were quite capable of yelling for help...and talking," Mulder replied significantly, "Unfortunately the lot was in the middle of nowhere sir, or relatively isolated. No one heard us call for help," Mulder replied sardonically. Scully leveled a warning look at him. He reined himself in again.

And there it was Skinner thought. 24 hours trapped together in a tool shed in the pleasant southwestern Virginia city of Bristol. Mulder and Scully alone together and the truth had definitely been out there. Christ on a crutch. Why couldn't they have just talked about the Redskins? Scully looked up from under her eyelids at him. She rolled her eyes slightly and then looked off out the window in back of him. 

Skinner sighed, "What about the cell phones and..." he began. 

"When the two younger boys were apprehended they had both phones and our weapons in their possession." 

"I see here that one boy had called Hong Kong and asked for the local time..." 

"Yes, and left the connection open. Sorry. He said he saw that one on Jerry Springer, sir. *Don't Get Mad Get Even* I think the show was called." 

Skinner chuckled. It was a bit of the old Mulder. A lot of the tension in the room was deflated even further. 

"Too bad he wasn't an Oprah fan," Skinner quipped. "I understand she's trying for the kinder, gentler approach this season." 

"Yeah, well the kid must have read the Nielson's. Oprah's out, Jerry's in," Mulder retorted with a slight grin. 

Skinner nodded and let his expression soften a bit more. 

"What happened to the other boy, Calvin Mathis?" Skinner asked with genuine concern warring with dismissal in his voice. Crap. I should show a little interest here for crying out loud. The kid did sound like a tragic figure, a disturbed young adult. He looked at the report again. Of course he knew what had happened to Calvin. Despite his wish to show his sympathy now, he knew he was just killing time and it made him hate himself. Fuck, was he just killing time until he could get Calvin, and his friends and Mulder, and Scully out of his mind, out of his office, out of his life? "Oh hell," he thought letting his eyes drop shut. "I am such a cold, selfish piece of shit." 

"He disappeared, sir. The youngest boy said he walked out of the municipal lot and over a couple of hills. There was a bright light and when they ran to find Calvin he was gone. 

"And you're saying in your report that there's a possibility he was abducted again?" 

"One can infer that from further evidence in the area - scorched earth, trace radioactivity, the lights, the..." 

"All right, Agent Mulder I think I get the picture now." Skinner sighed. He felt bone crushing fatigue stealing through his body. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. 

Both Mulder and Scully were silent. They were obviously still waiting for the *Sword of Damocles* to fall. 

Skinner cleared his throat, "Ok, Look. The next time the local authorities tell you they're capable of handling three juvies listen to them. I mean it. I'm going to have to do a real waltz here to justify the expenses from this little fiasco. I can't afford to do this very often, agents. Do I make myself clear?" 

"Yes, sir," they replied in unison. 

"Thank God we're almost done here," Skinner thought, "I'm about to fall on my face." 

"Good. Now - are both of you...are you both fit for duty?" Skinner asked. He regretted almost everything he had said up to this point. Hated himself for his actions. He just wanted to connect with both his agents now. He wanted to let them know he was sorry and that he still respected them and...oh MotherofGod his head hurt. 

"I've applied for a couple of days off, sir," Scully admitted quietly, "I'm afraid I'm still a bit woozy." 

Skinner squinted at her. She did look pale. Whether it was from the head injury or the emotional turmoil or a combination of both Skinner wasn't sure. <Jesus, how could I have done this to her this afternoon?> Another inconsiderate Walter Skinner blunder. <What in damnation was wrong with him?> Well, in the back of his mind he knew what was wrong as he looked into Dana Scully's face. "Get fucked, Walter," his inner voice cursed him. <Oh yeah, and that is the problem too isn't it?> he answered it with a weak internal sob. 

"That's fine, Agent Scully. No problem. Go home and get some rest. Mulder?" he asked pinning the other agent's eyes. 

Mulder's hazel eyes were hooded again, and his reply equally as quiet, "I'm taking a couple of days myself sir, if that would be all right. I...I need to go up to Connecticut to see my Mother anyway." 

"Fine." Skinner replied glancing back down at his desk, "Uh, take it easy on the trip Mulder. Head injuries aren't always conducive to driving," he added nodding his head at Mulder's bandage. He'd done Mulder a terrible disservice and all he could do was remind him not to drive with a possible concussion? How humane. What brilliant humanity you're capable of showing, Walter. What care for your fellow man, for your friend? Friend? Bloody unlikely now. God! 

"Yes, sir, I will," Mulder nodded back. 

"That's all then, you're both dismissed." 

Just as Mulder and Scully reached the door Skinner thought of one last thing. He said it and he knew what the reply would be because the answer had been in the Bristol Police report. But he asked the question anyway because in one moment of ultimate self-loathing he wanted to give Mulder the last word. One last chance to get back at him too. 

"Uh, agents. Did the authorities tell you what would happen to the other two boys, Calvin's accomplices? What was the final disposition on their cases likely to be?" Skinner had seen their fate in the report. It was bleak. The charges were severe: breaking and entering, resisting arrest, kidnapping, possession of stolen firearms, wire fraud because of the phone call, etc. etc. God what a mess for two kids. 

"The Chief of Police told us the kids would most likely have the book thrown at them. Mandatory detention in the Roanoke, Virginia, Home for Wayward Boys, sir. Incarceration until the age of 21," Mulder answered bleakly. Skinner didn't miss the emphasis on the words *Home for Wayward Boys*. >Yes, there you go Mulder. Stick it in and twist it, my man. I owe you one. And thank you agent, may I have another.> 

<But oh hell...Mulder didn't, he wasn't...> Skinner's stomach burned against his back bone at the look of hurt confusion that should have been triumph in Fox Mulder's eyes. Scully's tortured backward glance had Skinner reaching for his ulcer meds before both agents had fled through his office door. The door closed silently behind them. 

So that had almost concluded Skinner's weird and woebegone week. Almost but not quite. After Mulder and Scully had left for their respective days off Skinner sat with his head in his hands. He sat immobile at his desk, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The headache that had been threatening all during the meeting came then with a vengeance. He shook his head and it suddenly hurt like hell. 

He realized in that moment of pain that he had just chewed Agent Fox Mulder a new asshole while simultaneously humiliating him in front of his partner. And why? Because without even knowing it, Walter Skinner had allowed himself to think of Mulder as a rival for Scully's affections. This was bad. Very bad. And to Mulder's credit, he hadn't said a thing during the grilling. He'd kept his cool for the most part and remained professional. Fuck! Skinner's hands shook slightly at the implication of what that might mean. It most likely meant that Scully had asked Mulder not to say anything to Skinner. He had respected her wishes. Marvelous. This was one royally screwed up situation. 

Walter Skinner groaned into the large hand that was rubbing between his eyes. He came to an abrupt decision. He put his glasses back on and checked the rest of his schedule. Nothing much of importance for the remainder of the day. "Thank Christ," he thought. He had to leave, to get out of his office. He needed to move. And then he needed to talk to someone. He grabbed his suit coat and his car keys. 

"Kimberly, I'm leaving for the day. Would you reschedule my 3 o'clock meeting, please. Try to make it for first thing Monday. I'll see you then," he told her wearily. Kimberly looked into his face with concern, "Are you all right, sir?" she asked tentatively. Skinner stared at her for a moment, blinked at the look of worry on her face. 

"Kim, I'm fine, really, it's just another blasted headache. Thanks for..thanks for being so patient with me this week. Have a good weekend," he nodded and turning on his heel left Kimberly to shake her head at his receding back. 

Skinner had wandered towards Karen Kosseff's office almost without thinking about his actions. He stood outside her door rocking on his heels for several seconds. He just couldn't go in. He needed to talk to someone but the damned Company shrink wasn't the one. Not the one yet anyway. He hissed between gritted teeth, "to hell with this crap!" He turned on his heel again. Skinner stalked down the hall and out of the building proper into the parking garage. He did need to talk, but not to Karen Kosseff. He needed to talk to an old friend. 

The black wall seemed to stretch on forever under the afternoon autumn sun. It cast a shadow, dark and inky to match it's black surface. The wall was long, and tall and spoke volumes about loyalty, respect and honor while remaining mute stone. Row upon row of names marked it's surface. Guys from every state in the Union. Dead men. Real dead men. Not imitation dead men like Walter S. Skinner. These guys were resting in peace or pieces as the case might be. Many in Arlington. Others at home. Some still in Vietnam. They slept in the earth. They were able to sleep, unlike Skinner who lately had trouble sleeping at all. The Vietnam Veterans Memorial stretched out next to him on his left as Skinner walked along it. He shook his head as he strode past the rank upon rank of names engraved in the wall. Walking he was oblivious to the other afternoon visitors that flanked the monument. He needed to find a point about midway. He knew the spot. He knew the name. He had an appointment to keep. 

As Skinner approached the half way mark he fingered the tiny package in his coat pocket. Bazooka Bubble gum. He smiled slightly as he reached the name he sought. He turned to the wall and faced the name. 

"Hello John," he whispered, "How are you doing buddy?" Corporal John C. Rand. Killed near a tiny village on the border of Cambodia. Shot through the head right in front of Walter Skinner's eyes. His brains and skull splattering all over Skinner's flack jacket. "Cracker" Rand, from Georgia. Skinner's best friend *In Country*. John C. Rand killed in the ambush that had wiped out everyone in their platoon. Everyone that was except the gravely wounded Walter Skinner. 

"Sinner!" John C. Rand's southern drawl twanged nasally through Skinner's head, "Sinnuh," it pronounced the nickname. They'd all had their nicknames in Nam. John's had been obvious given his Georgia point of origin. Skinner's rechristening had come after he'd refused to attend worship with the chaplain any longer. That had come after Skinner had blown the head off that 10 year old Vietnamese kid loaded for bear with all those lethal hand grenades. Somehow church services had seemed pointless after THAT kill. Rand had brushed it off, handed Skinner another joint and said, "Well, Waltuh, ain't you just the unrepentant sinner now." And the name had stuck like fucking glue. 

Skinner pulled out the pack of bubble gum and kneeling down placed it carefully and reverently against the wall under Rand's name. Cracker had loved his Bazooka bubble gun. He could chomp on a wad of the stuff and become as content as a cow chewing a cud. "I brought you something, Cracker. Something to keep that damn yap of yours shut for a while," he smiled, "after we talk, of course," he added with a small grin. He stood back up and reaching forward ran his fingers over John's name. The granite felt solid, cold. The chiseled name's outline felt hot. "Must be the sun," Skinner thought. But the sun was at the back of the wall. Rand's voice came to him again. 

"Bazooka Joe? Well blow me!" he laughed. "Thanks Sinnuh, it's been a while." 

"I'll bet," Skinner sighed as he straightened and stared at the wall. 

"So, what can I do for you, Waltuh," Rand's southern twang crooned softly inside his skull. Skinner knew John was serious now. He'd dropped the nickname flat. 

"John I...I'm hurting man. I...I'm fucked. I've really fucked up," he whispered. He hardly knew where to start. It was too hard to voice what he was going through. Too hard to put into words. 

"You haven't been fucked up in years," Rand replied a grin in his voice. "No smokin' dope at the FBEI-UH," he smirked. "Even if J. Edgar was a fuckin' pansy and had no room to criticize," he added. 

It was Skinner's turn to laugh softly. "Yeah I guess you have a point there, John. But shit I...it's..." 

"Love or Lust Sinnuh? To be or not to be...that IS the question. Right my man?" 

"Christ that's the trouble I just don't know," Skinner sighed. He leaned forward and placed his forehead against the cool, black surface of the wall. It felt good. It soothed his headache. He knew if he leaned there for long however, he'd have Stanley J. Hopkins, the soldier's name that was bitten deep above John's embedded in his flesh. But he didn't really give a flying Frito whether he did. He just needed to shut his eyes and let the memory of Cracker's soothing southern tones wash over his soul. 

"You never liked red heads, Sinnuh. You always believed blondes had more fun, big dawg." 

"Yeah, I know." Skinner shrugged his shoulders. "But, this red head is just a LITTLE different, John." 

"She's little all right. You two made quite a pictcha, Waltuh." 

"Fuck you John. Come on, Cracker! I'm looking for advice here, not cheap shots. She's a lady. She's not like one of those Saigon whores you used to dip your wick in." 

Rand gave out a sympathetic and gentle laugh this time. 

"Ah know, Waltuh. Ah know." 

"So what the hell am I supposed to do about it, Cracker? I'm totally fried here. No clue." 

"I think you got a clue Walter. I just don't think you want to admit it. Wise up Sinnuh. Things will go a lot more easy if you wise up." 

Walter Skinner pulled his head away from the wall. It was sound advice but not exactly the advice he wanted to hear. 

"Fuck me!" Walter cursed himself silently. 

"Sinnuh, I did once," John Rand laughed like hell then. Skinner turned red. That was one memory he would probably never forget. The sensations and images came instantly into his mind. He could almost smell the streets of Saigon. They were on leave at last. Vietnamese food, cheap booze, John buying condoms, cruising for whores, Walter buying information, cruising for dope. Finding all the prime pot they could toke. Falling into bed in one of the better Saigon hotels. Rand's whispered suggestion. Skinner too drunk and stoned to protest. Not really wanting to protest anyway. Rand's gentle hands all over his body. Skinner's mouth on John's cock. John's cock up his ass. Jesus, it had been hot and not just because it was Saigon in summer either. God, they had been so young and dumb. Young, and horny, and scared shitless they were going to die tomorrow. Well one of them had been right about that fear. Oh yeah. 

Neither one of them had admitted what had happened in the morning. But hell, it hadn't been such a big deal. Somehow the experience hadn't been as disturbing as Walter Skinner thought it would be. Rand had gone back to pumping whores and Skinner had gone back to pumping the porpoise and fantasizing about Raquel Welch. He realized he didn't really want to shake off the memory of that hot coupling in the hotel room in Saigon. He shook his head with humor instead. 

"God, Cracker you really knew how to show a guy a good time," he laughed. 

"Always Sinnuh, always." Rand answered. His voice was fading then and Skinner knew time was just about up. 

"Cracker, what should I do?" Skinner asked one last time desperation in his whispered voice. 

"You still got that '61 Vette, Waltuh?" Rand asked cryptically. 

"Yeah," Skinner answered in confusion. 

"Well, if I were you Sinner I'd give that baby a lube job tomorrow. She needs it bad," and then the voice of the late Corporal John C. Rand spun away in the afternoon autumn wind and was gone. 

So, Walter S. Skinner had taken John C. Rand's advice and driven the Corvette over to Luttrell's garage on Saturday morning. He had backed it into the rented bay he used for repairs. Skinner had his own tools in the trunk. He had decided to do the points and plugs, change the oil and the filters all at the same time just for kicks. She HAD been due for a tune-up. He'd had his head under the hood and underneath the car all morning and into the afternoon and now at 2 PM he was feeling gritty, greasy and as relaxed as hell despite the shitty taste in music exhibited by the garages other inhabitants. 

He was just putting in the last of the new spark plugs when someone cranked up a tape or CD much more to his liking. Jimi he thought. Hendrix with a capital H. The Man. Hendrix's frantic, soaring electric guitar split the air and the first chords of *Foxy Lady* echoed off the walls of the cavernous garage interior. Skinner smiled for the first time in days and rammed the spark plug home with one quick flick of his wrist. 

A piercing wolf whistle sounded almost immediately after the plug settled into it's spot in the Corvette. "What the hell?" Skinner thought. Someone is taking this song way too seriously he mused. He started to pull his head out from under the hood, and as he did so, he looked up. He found himself staring directly into the electric blue eyes of FBI Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully. 

"Shit!" he cursed silently and then he smacked his head on the underside of the hood. "Crap!" he barked. He extricated himself rubbing his scalp. Embarrassment and anger flashed across his face. 

"We have to talk, sir," Scully replied a frown creasing her forehead. She was so focused she totally ignored Skinner's discomfort. 

Skinner stood up, towering over Scully, "What?" he asked struggling to regain his composure. Another wolf whistle punctuated their brief exchange of words. Skinner's face went stony as he looked past Scully and located the source of shrill opinion. "Would you pardon me for a minute, Agent Scully?" he hissed quite formerly. 

Scully merely raised an eyebrow and stepped aside as Skinner walked purposefully away from her. He strode quickly to a point two bays down on the same side of the garage. Scully watched as Skinner stood toe to toe and glared at the owner of another late model car. The man was as tall as Skinner, younger, dark and thin, but with hard muscles. A thug Scully thought. A dangerous man with insolent, aggressive eyes. She watched as Skinner moved close and spoke into the man's ear. She watched as the man's eyes went a bit wide and his face pale. The man swallowed, nodded twice and turned away to busy himself with his late model Chevy Impala. Skinner turned and strode back to Scully's side. His glasses reflected afternoon sunlight from an overhead skylight. The lenses flashed and Scully struggled to see his eyes. They were suddenly revealed and she silently studied their deep brown depths. 

For the last month Dana Scully had thought of her life as being divided up into only two blocks of time. 

The first block she'd dubbed *From Dusk Till Dawn*. Yes, after that idiotic film starring George Clooney and Quentin Tarantino that started out as a bank robbery and ended up awash in gallons of blood and exploding vampires. One of Mulder's favorite films of course, and one she had only sat through on video because well, OK - George Clooney had been in it. 

At any rate, that block of time had been subtitled a night in The Fairfax County Home for Wayward Boys co-starring Walter S. Skinner. Since that night her world had been turned upside down. What had happened in that room in the Home for Boys made liver eating mutants, UFO abductions, killer artificial intelligences, and yes, even vampires look like Auntie Em from the *Wizard of OZ* in comparison. 

"Lord, maybe I am in Oz?" Scully speculated. "I'm sure as hell not in Kansas anymore Toto," she winced. And God, who did that sound like? she thought shaking her head slightly. Mulder of course. Mulder. That brought her to the second block of time. 

While she had been spinning about in confusion, aching with the pain of not knowing how she felt over what had happened between her and Skinner, Mulder had insisted they needed to fly down to Bristol, Virginia. Of course they just had to investigate a series of UFO sightings. In truth, with everything that was running through her mind the case had barely registered on her radar at first but after reading through the file something had touched her regarding the Mathis boy. His situation had seemed profoundly sad and at this point in her life she could relate to his abduction fears, oh yes. She could also relate to the fact that no one believed the kid. She only had to look as far as Mulder's new skepticism to relate to Calvin on that little issue. 

So, Mulder was on a crusade to find out if what the Virginia kid had seen was true although he half thought it was a hoax all ready. But, he also wanted to help the kid realize the folly of his ways and on the off chance the sightings were genuine and the kid was an abductee, grab at a straw that would help him to regain his faith in the truth, the good fight, the quest. Oh, and yeah, help the kid out under those circumstances as well. 

Calvin Mathis had repaid both their sympathy and their hopes of helping him by first rear ending and then broad-siding their stalled Ford Crown Victoria bu-car. The fact that he had used a J.I. Case backhoe really added insult to injury. Scully and Mulder had been knocked unconscious during this procedure and had awakened, bound hand and foot with duct tape inside a tool shed in the Bristol, Virginia Department of Public Works equipment and supply yard. 

Scully had dubbed this second block of time *True Lies* starring Dana Scully and Fox Mulder with apologies to both Jamie Lee and *Ahnold*. 

The shed was metal sided, metal floored and metal topped. It had been very hot inside despite the vents near the ceiling. In addition, it had been about the size of her apartment bedroom - 12' by 14' at the most. It was full of small tools. There were metal racks at one end. It was just one of many sheds full of similar tools that dotted the municipal lot. 

Of course they had gotten out of the duct tape. The kids must have been stupid if they didn't realize they would be able to cut the tape. There were so many sharp instruments available in the shed to do so. But, Mulder and Scully soon discovered that they had underestimated the teen's intelligence. It never paid to underestimate a really clever juvenile delinquent. The kids had taken an extra precaution against their escaping. Just as their report would say, the boys had chained and double padlocked the shed handles shut. Nothing could budge all those restraints. After a few rounds of pointless yelling for help in their isolated prison, the two agents had settled in for a long night. 

And long it had been. Embarrassment had set in almost immediately. Despite the heat of the shed, neither one of them were sweating out the cups of coffee they had consumed during yet another dismal meal at Denny's. It became obvious rather quickly that both of them were going to have to figure out what to do about his and hers restroom accommodations. 

Luckily, the metal racks at the back of the shed were full of boxes and larger tools and afforded a modicum of privacy. During Mulder's trip to the makeshift men's room he'd come back with a warm 6 pack of Bud Light. Some maintenance worker was going to be as mad as hell on Monday when he discovered his secret stash was gone. 

Drinking the beer had been a mistake. But the shed had been like a sauna and they'd been so thirsty. It had loosened their tongues. And Mulder, God damn him (God bless him?) had at last started to tell Scully what he really felt about her. "Wonderful timing, Mulder," Scully thought. For Mulder it had been *True Confessions*" time and then *Truth or Dare* as he had gently kissed Scully. He had released her and then pinned her eyes waiting for her to say something, anything in the way of acceptance or rejection. The truth, it was always about the truth with Mulder. 

Well the truth he got that night really wasn't the truth he expected to hear at all. And Scully thought maybe it wasn't the real or complete truth anyway. Dana Scully wasn't sure what she felt anymore. She had been sure she loved Mulder. God, she lusted for him anyway even though she still felt guilty at wanting him physically. The problem was she was no longer completely positive she loved him. Oh sure she knew she loved him like a brother. He was her trusted best friend. Her spiritual soul-mate. But the other kind of love? The love of a woman for a man? She didn't know any more. All that had changed during her *From Dusk Till Dawn* with Walter Skinner. She felt as if she had betrayed Mulder's trust. She felt as if she was betraying him still. 

Her attempts to tell Mulder about her night with Skinner had failed miserably. She had hurt him in that tool shed without really meaning too because she hadn't been able to give him an adequate explanation of her feelings for either him or Skinner at that point. The worst part of her hesitant and miserably inadequate explanation had come when she begged Mulder not to say anything to Skinner. Scully wanted to talk to him first. She wanted to try to bring some type of closure to the situation. She wanted to discover her own truth in order to settle her confusion once and for all. Mulder nodded his head in resigned agreement. 

So, Mulder had pressed for the truth and Scully hadn't been able to give him a clear cut version at all. It hadn't really been a lie had it? A lie that she didn't really know what she wanted now? That she didn't know the truth? God help her. By Monday morning neither of them was really speaking to each other. Oh, they talked to each other but it was a pale imitation of their previous conversations and done in a very distant manner. Mulder had closed himself off to her. He was polite, formal. He became Agent Fox Mulder for Christ sake. He had suddenly started to treat her very much like the first day she had walked into the basement office. It upset Scully terribly. So, now she was mortally afraid that she had ruined everything for all three of them and she needed to find out if there was a solution to the situation. A clarity. Some kind of resolution. She couldn't go on in this state. She hated being stuck between heaven and hell. Purgatory was not the location of choice for Dana Scully to spend any more time in. 

But, Dear God! She still could not believe what was going on in her head regarding the Assistant Director. She couldn't possibly be attracted to him? Love him? You had to get to know someone just a little bit longer then overnight before you admitted you loved them. Like maybe 5 years? she thought ruefully. She had barely talked to Walter for God's sake. There had barely been time. They had had very pressing business that night. Fuck or die just about summed it up. 

Dana had spread her legs for Skinner on a stained King-sized mattress on a scratched wooden floor in a detention home for boys and Holy Mother of God, she had loved every minute of it. She could still feel his hands on her body. She dreamt of his cock inside her. One sharp image was etched in her mind. The image of him holding her hand in order to have her squeeze it if he hurt her. She recalled him squeezing HER hand as he lie wounded on a hospital gurney. What had she been thinking about him then? she asked herself. 

After their frenzied sex, Skinner had kissed her again. Her insides had melted even though she had pushed him away and denied her pleasure in the touch of his lips. She had thought for a long time that their coupling had been the result of raw lust and she could almost deal with that explanation. For crying out loud it HAD been ages since she'd gotten laid after all. The lust part had been a given even though it was hard to admit she could lose control like that under those circumstances and with Walter Skinner of all people. 

But afterwards - afterwards had been different. She hadn't been able to take it any more. Couldn't stand the sensations washing over her. Couldn't look at Skinner. Didn't want him to look at her either. As he stroked her back, she had feigned sleep just to get away from facing what they had done and the mind numbing confusion she felt in her heart and the rocketing thoughts speeding through her head. 

The worst part had been what he had said to her while he held her. She didn't even want to think about it. Something must have broken inside Walter Skinner that night. Or something had healed was maybe more accurate. His deep gruff voice had droned on hypnotically, softly - words of comfort at first but then when he had thought she was asleep - other words. 

Words about Vietnam, Sharon his ex-wife, The Bureau, his respect and admiration for Mulder and Scully, and his hatred of a certain black-lunged bastard that he considered the devil incarnate. All his loneliness, fears, self-doubts, self-loathing - The words had come out and they had been horrible to hear. She realized he was probably almost unaware of what he was saying but the stress and strain of the situation was having some kind of cathartic effect and it all came spilling out of his guts. So, even though Dana Scully had barely talked to Walter Skinner she had nevertheless heard him loud and clear. 

By the time the electronic lock on the door had made it's deactivation sound, Scully's mind was reeling over everything Skinner had said and done. Her feelings for him and Fox Mulder had become mixed, entwined, and hopelessly confused. Scully had walked out of the Fairfax Home for Wayward Boys into the dawn's early light with a huge, dark, cloud that only she could see, hanging over her head. 

Now she stood in a noisy garage staring up into Walter Skinner's glasses and thinking - what in the hell am I doing here? What am I doing, period? 

Skinner looked down into Scully's face and all he could think was, "What in the hell is she doing here?" and then almost immediately he also thought, "Shit, that's a loaded question and a really bone headed one too." He knew he was staring so he decided to say something. He'd better or look like a complete cretin. He spoke the first words that came into his mind. 

"How did you know where to find me, Agent Scully?" 

Scully blinked, "Oh. Well...I found out by accident actually, sir. Kimberly was a little concerned about you on Friday. She mentioned that you had left early and wondered if I'd check up on you over the weekend. She recalled you sometimes came here on Saturday to work on your car. She... I guess she was worried, sir." 

"Do you often discuss my personal business with my Executive Assistant, Agent Scully?" Skinner asked stiffly. 

"Wonderful," Scully thought with exasperation, "this is going down hill fast. The bastard! Does he always have to be in control?" She squashed her anger down. Skinner's face once again belayed his words. He looked so utterly lost and sad that Scully's heart squeezed in her chest. 

"No sir. And it was Kimberly who broached the subject when I came back up to your office," she answered quietly. It was enough of a protest to make him know she wouldn't let him go for another power trip. But her words weren't meant to sting. 

This time it was Skinner's turn to blink, "Came back to my office? I thought you were going home and then taking a couple of days off?" he asked quietly. 

"I was. But...Walter, I really needed to talk to you," she whispered looking down, "I came back to your office to talk." 

The use of his first name caused Skinner's posture to relax and his face to soften immediately. He sighed and ran his hand over his mouth. He glanced up and looked around the garage. Everyone was busy with their own vehicles. The sun from the skylight played across the cars and their owners. Gasoline smells. Grease. Engines revving. Music. Noise. Noise. He looked back down at Scully. In the immediate circle of her presence it was dead calm, silent, odorless except for her natural scent. Quiet in the gaze of her downcast eyes. Scully was still studying her shoes. Skinner made his face carefully neutral. 

"Do you drive stick?" he asked abruptly. 

"What?" Scully asked looking up. There was confusion written on her brow. 

"Can you drive a car with a manual transmission?" Skinner clarified. 

Scully raised an eyebrow, "As a matter of fact, sir, I can." She let a small smile quirk across her lips. 

"Good," Skinner nodded. The return grin didn't quite make it across his entire mouth. 

It only took Skinner a few minutes to wash the grime and grease from his hands and shuck his oversize coveralls. He had on jeans and a plain white t-shirt underneath. He'd brought a jacket but it was in the back of the car. 

He sauntered back over to where Scully leaned up against his '61 Vette, her arms hugging her chest. He took a moment to savor the picture she made. She was perfection. Stunning red hair. Shining blue eyes. Alabaster complexion marred only by the now unbandaged bruise and scrape near her hairline. Gray hooded zip up sweatshirt. White t-shirt. Black jeans. Running sneakers. Skinner swallowed hard. Christ she looked pretty. God, belay that shit. He had to keep his big head here. No more thinking with your little head, Walter! He gave himself a quick mental kick in the ass. They did have to talk and his hormones would NOT get in the way, damn it. He shook his head to negate his dangerous thoughts and reached into the pocket for his car keys. He frowned. Crap he'd left them in the pocket of his coveralls. He held up one finger towards Scully signifying he had to go back to his rental locker. He spun on his white sneakered heel. 

Dana Scully had watched Skinner approach her. God. She'd never seen him in jeans before. "My he does look nice," she thought blushing slightly. She knew she really liked Mulder in jeans. She wasn't too surprised to realize she liked Skinner in them as well. When he turned around to walk back towards the wall of lockers behind him Scully had really gotten an eyeful. His ass looked almost better in jeans then it did buck naked. Now she really reddened. She shook her head in self-depreciation. Well, the lust part of the equation was certainly alive and well. Scully realized she would have to be very careful this afternoon that her more prurient thoughts didn't influence the truth she sought. She needed logic, not raging hormones. She bit her lip and reigned in her libido as Skinner came back towards her. 

He held his car keys out to her, "I just tuned her up. I need to listen to the engine. I can concentrate better if you drive and I listen. After I listen to the engine we can talk. Drive wherever you want, Scully. Park it, and...we'll discuss...whatever you need to discuss." 

Skinner had composed his face into the trademark blank slate expression with which all his agents were all to familiar. Scully knew it. This she could handle. It was typical *I won't let you in Skinner* and maybe that was for the best at the moment. It would allow her to compose her body as well as her mind. Scully reached out and took the keys. 

"Get in," she said. 

They drove along the Beltway. And Yessir, Scully did know how to drive stick. She was a virtuoso. Skinner watched her work the clutch, and the gear shift and the gas with expertise. He lay his head back against the seat and listened to the engine purr. She purrs just like a great big cat Skinner thought. He deemed his tune-up a success. An unequivocal success. The wind blew across his scalp. They hadn't bothered to put up the rag top. The autumn sun was still warm on their skin. The car sped on. 

Skinner opened his eyes in a narrow slit. Opened them just wide enough to allow him to sneak a peripheral peak at Dana Scully as she drove his car. He shut them again because the sight of her gripping the wheel in rapt concentration, hair blowing in the wind and right hand moving up and down and back and forth as she shifted gears put him in a place he desperately didn't want to go. 

"Scully...the engine...sounds fine. I don't need to listen any longer. Uh, you can start thinking about that parking spot," he said swallowing hard. 

Scully had pointed the car back towards downtown DC. The parking spot near the National Gallery had been a lucky find. It was almost 4 PM. The shadows were lengthening as the day was shortening. Scully put the car in park and cut the engine. She took the keys out of the ignition and handed them across the seat towards Skinner. Skinner held his hand out, palm up and she dropped then into his hand, careful not to touch him at all. Skinner took the keys and shoved them down into the pocket of his jeans. Scully looked at Skinner. 

"God, I can hardly stand to sit this close to him now that I don't have something to occupy my mind," she thought uncomfortably, "or my hands," she added ruefully to herself. She realized driving the car had been a really welcome diversion but also an excuse for avoiding the inevitable. She dragged her eyes away from Skinner and made to open the car door. 

"What the hell?" Skinner thought as Scully pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. "Scully?" he asked her receding back. 

"I'd like to go sit in the shade," she mumbled, barely audibly as Skinner hastened to follow her, grabbing his coat from the back seat. 

"What?" he called as his long strides allowed him to quickly catch up with her. 

"I thought it might be more pleasant to sit in the shade." Scully replied as Skinner reached her side and gently grasped her arm. 

Scully looked down at his hand on her arm. He released her arm as if it was a red hot poker. 

"Fine, Scully. But, let's not lose sight of my car, all right?" he asked quietly. He hadn't restored the damn thing for some fucking car thief to boost it out from under his nose. 

Scully nodded and they both moved over into the mall and under a large old growth tree. Skinner threw his jacket down and stood waiting in expectation. 

Scully raised an eyebrow. "Oh good Lord, he expects me to sit on his jacket?" she thought with amusement. If it had been Mulder she would have laughed in his face. But this wasn't Mulder. And this was serious. 

Scully sat down without further hesitation and scooted her back up against the tree bark. She sat Indian style. She heard rather then saw Skinner sit down just far enough around the tree so that she could hear and see him in profile sitting against it. He crossed his legs as well and she heard his deep exhalation of breath. Their positions were eerily similar to their postures during their night in the Home for Boys. 

Skinner took a minute to gaze off across the mall without speaking. They sat in companionable silence for a while. Skinner put his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. He didn't want to look at Scully for the moment. He didn't have to really. He could see her face and body in perfect detail on the inside of his eyelids. He could see her up close and even though he knew he shouldn't be thinking of Scully in those terms any longer - he thought she looked incredibly incandescent. 

Scully took the opportunity to study Walter Skinner. She hadn't really looked at him, avoided watching him actually since the night they'd been together. Now she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "God he looks good," she mused. Skinner looked clean and almost freshly shaved even though it was a Saturday. She thought he looked like he kept a razor at the garage in case he wanted to go out after working on his car. He was clean and despite working around the Corvette all morning and half the afternoon he still smelled faintly of Old Spice. Scully liked the smell. She admired his hard muscularity again. His biceps looked particularly good in his white t-shirt sleeves. She had to admit that Walter S. Skinner was indeed a very attractive man. But oh brother she'd better not go there. Better not visit that territory again - no sir. 

Scully cleared her throat. She finally got to the point of her meeting with Skinner. 

"I told Mulder," she said quietly. 

"I surmised as much on Friday." 

"He didn't take it well." 

"That was obvious." 

Scully shifted against the tree. 

"Yeah, well it was obvious you didn't take it well either, sir." Scully replied. 

Skinner winced, "Right to the point. OK. I deserved that he thought, "Point for Scully." 

"Look, Scully, I...I'm really sorry about that meeting. I think, I...Oh, Fuck. I don't have a good excuse. All I can say is I hardly knew what I was doing. I feel like I'm going insane - losing what's left of an all ready feeble mind Scully. That whole load of crap I laid on Mulder was totally unfair. My actions were idiotic - uncalled for. It, it won't happen again. Please believe me." 

Scully let her breath out. All right she thought, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, "All right, I believe you, sir. I'll talk to Mulder about it. I'll try to smooth it over." 

"Point for Skinner," he thought with a sigh of relief. And then Skinner decided he'd better broach what else was on his mind. What he figured was on Scully's mind as well. 

"Scully, I...I'm also terribly sorry about that night. Jesus I didn't think, I...I want to apologize for how...I want to apologize," he said barely audibly. 

"Sir, you have nothing to be sorry about. It happened and we can't pretend it didn't and neither one of us can afford to be sorry about it any more." 

Skinner was silent for a moment. Scully glanced over to look at him. He was leaning his head back against the tree and his eyes were closed. His jaw muscle jumped. Scully's eyes traveled down to his hands. They were gripping his knees. His knuckles were white. His hands shook slightly. "God!" Scully thought in alarm. She reached over and gently touched the back of his hand. Skinner jumped and his head turned instantly to look at her. He gazed into her eyes. Scully felt like she was being sucked into a dark vacuum. She held her breath. Skinner turned his hand over and clenched hers in a death grip. The shaking of his hand began to slow and then stop. 

Skinner spoke at last and she had to strain to hear what he said. 

"I'm such an unmitigated liar, Scully. I'm not sorry. I can't be sorry for something I wanted so much. God help me." 

"Oh shit," she winced silently letting her breath out in a rush. She gently extricated her hand from his. It joined her other hand in her lap. 

"Sir..." 

"Please don't interrupt me because if you do I'll never get this out," he hissed a note of hard desperation in his whispered voice. 

Scully was silent. He plunged on. 

"I can't lie anymore, to myself or to you," he continued, "I'm not sorry about what happened in that room. I...I enjoyed it, Scully. I wanted you and I hoped you wanted me too. I haven't been able to stop thinking about, about holding you in my arms and...God, I can't forget it. I want to forget it. I've tried hard to wipe it out of my mind." 

"Sir..." 

"I said don't interrupt me, PLEASE!" 

Scully went completely mute. She was beginning to blink back tears. She surreptitiously wiped at her eyes disguising it as a swipe at the sweat on her brow. Her fingers came into contact with the scrape on her forehead. She cringed slightly as it stung. It covered the cringe that ran through her body at the sound of Skinner's words. Walter Skinner was begging and she hated to hear that tone in his voice. She thought she knew what it cost him to sound like that. It made her ill. 

"Scully, this...this is hard for me to say. I need you to shut up and let me get it out or I'm...just let me get it out," he glanced at her. His larynx was working to swallow. Scully nodded her silent assent. Skinner let it all out. 

"I could never be sorry about the way you made me feel that night. I hadn't been with a woman in so long and damn it I just craved your touch. I'd never be sorry for...for giving you pleasure either. I wanted you to feel like a queen Scully. Like you were the center of the whole fucking world that night. I started out thinking - well - I'll have to do this and just get it over with because it's a matter of life and death and I ended up thinking...I wanted the experience to go on forever for you, and Christ for me too, because you felt so good. Scully, you made me feel like a man that night. Something I...Oh hell...something I haven't felt like in a long time. And God, how could I be sorry about something like that?" 

Scully was aghast. She could barely believe her ears. There was no way she'd think of interrupting Skinner now. There was nothing she could even think to say. 

"The only thing I'm sorry about is that I've hurt you and I've obviously hurt you and Mulder and that really bothers me," Skinner's voice trailed off. He looked at Scully. "I'm sorry I may have ruined something precious between you and Fox Mulder and I can't forgive myself for that, Scully, I really can't." 

Scully looked into his eyes. They were very soft behind his glasses. Almost unfocused. Scully sighed. He looked so tragically handsome at that moment. Scully felt slightly weak. She struggled to regain her composure as she glanced up through the leaves above her head. 

She couldn't believe there was someone in the world who was quite capable of matching Fox Mulder in the guilt department - but here he was sitting right next to her. Wonderful. Two men in her life and both of them carrying the worlds' guilt on their shoulders. Scully knew she wanted to comfort him and she also knew that he probably wouldn't accept her comfort. He'd probably mistake it for pity again like he had that night in the room and react with anger. But she had to try to reassure him. She thought she knew the way. She needed to do it with a dose of the truth - the few facts that she did have at her disposal. She wanted to repay his honesty with some of her own. She reached across and touched his arm briefly for reassurance and then removed it. She idly plucked at the grass by her right leg as she began to speak. 

"Well, I can't lie to you either, sir. I guess I can tell you that Mulder and I weren't really involved in any kind of sexual relationship. I mean, we hadn't even talked about our real feelings for each other for God's sake. We, we've been doing this avoidance thing for 5 years now. Just...it's just stupid. God, talk about denial. Repression? Mulder and I are the masters of that disaster let me tell you. We've just been so ultra professional - don't laugh I mean Mulder too! Mulder's been a total gentlemen - well no white knight but, God - you know what I mean. All innuendo and word games and...Oh shit - it was driving both of us half crazy with unresolved sexual tension I think...and then those kids locked us in that shed." 

Skinner looked at her his mouth hanging open. He was rather stunned. Scully would have laughed at his expression but she couldn't see any humor at all in her recitation now. She looked down. She plucked some more grass up and threw it to the side. 

"Mulder, God bless him - he has such a knack for bad timing - he chose that moment to proclaim his undying love for me. I...Oh God," she bit her lip and held her breath for a moment. She was close to tearing up again and she really didn't want to do that now. 

"And that's when you told him about what happened in the Boy's Home? 

"Yes." 

"Damn." 

"Sir, I...he expected me to tell him I loved him in return before I told him about us. I...I wasn't sure I did. I was sure once. I...Oh, I'm so confused I don't want to put this all on you, sir. It's not fair. I should go talk to Karen Kosseff. This is not your business any more - it shouldn't be an issue we're even discussing..." Scully was waving her hands in the air and she knew she was dithering and cursed herself mentally over and over for doing it. 

"Scully.." A large hand reached over and caught her hand. He drew her hand down and held it steady. His fingers caressed her fingers, "Scully, I'm confused as well. I...I don't know what I should be feeling and it hurts. I know what you're going through because I'm going through the same hell right now. I..." 

"Sir..." 

"Scully, you called me Walter that night," he whispered, "Walter, you said," he barely uttered the words as he studied her face intently. A bolt of raw sexual heat drove right between Dana Scully's legs. Oh God, she thought. Not now, NOT now. She tamped it down but before she could the sexual arousal forced the next words out of her chest in a rush. 

"What are you trying to say?" Scully looked into his eyes again. Her heart started to sink when she saw the emotion that was growing there. "Oh, no, not this," she thought. But even as she said NO a voice in the back of her mind was trying desperately to say YES. 

Skinner dropped her hand but his hand traveled up to her cheek. He lightly stroked her face as he spoke. 

"I...I think. God, Scully this, this is just so wrong. But, Jesus. I can't help it. What I'm trying to say is...I'm trying to say - I'm falling in love with you." Skinner replied and then his hand left her face and he looked away. "I'm sorry, he mumbled, "I should...I'll drive you home." 

"Will you stop saying you're sorry, for God's sake you're starting to sound just like Mulder..." Scully stopped. OH GOD! Wrong thing to say - Good going Dana. But hell she had to take this horse by the reigns right now. Or did she? Hell yes! she decided in a rush. The feelings that were coursing through her were exceedingly dangerous and she did not want to face up to them at all. She just wanted them to disappear. She wanted Skinner to make them go away. She needed to be blunt to do it. She hoped Skinner would appreciate the honesty and respond to the short sharp shock of her words because at this point she didn't know what else to do. 

"Listen, Walter. Be still here a minute OK!? I'm going to try to tell you what's going on in my head. Don't interrupt me either all right? If you thought talking about this wasn't easy for you...Well, it sure as hell isn't any easier for me, God damn it." 

Skinner swiveled his head around and stared at her, speechless. She took no comment to mean - spit it out. And she did. 

"Fine. Walter - I don't know if I'm in love with Mulder or not. I'm not even sure where I stand with him in his life or the X-Files or...Oh hell. Look - at one time I would have said - I love him as a friend. I respect him, and he me. I trust him with my life and I know he trusts me. I'd die for him, and I know he'd do the same for me. But now I...God I just don't know. And I might have even said I loved him as...as a woman should love a man, spiritually AND physically but my God - I'm not even sure about that any longer. I started to have doubts when he started to have his own doubts about the X-Files, about...about everything. He's been so distant. He didn't believe me about the bridge and Cassandra Spender - didn't...he's changing right before my eyes and I have no idea how to cope. All this had been going on for a while, for quite some time before that night in the Boys Home." She glanced at Skinner again. 

"Go on, I'm listening," he replied in a low voice. 

"After you...after we were together I didn't know what to do. Oh, yes, I enjoyed the sex too, Walter. I...I can't even begin to tell how much. You...you're one hell of a lover, Walter. Good Lord, I'd never believe you had ANY doubts about your manhood after the way you...well, God..." Scully couldn't continue on that note. It was just too much for her to voice what his hands, mouth and cock had done to her. Even now Scully knew that she was still hot. That was all too obvious. She still desired him, she....she shut it off as best she could and plunged on. 

"Anyway, I still don't know what to think about my feelings, and your feelings and Mulder's feelings. Damn it - it's too complicated and my head is reeling over the whole damn issue. I hate being unable to unravel the emotions. I HATE IT! Everything is all jumbled up and I don't know where to even start." 

She stopped to get her breath. 

"But Mulder does love you." Skinner stated flatly but with gentleness in his voice, "Apparently he's loved you for quite some time. I have to respect that, Scully. Mulder deserves that respect. You both do, for God's sake. I all ready came dangerously close to letting my feelings for you influence how I treated Mulder during that Friday meeting. I stopped myself and I don't want that to ever happen again. It was a shitty thing for me to do to Mulder. It was...it was sick." 

"Walter - No matter how hard you find it to believe you have to realize Mulder respects you too. He's told me as much. I wouldn't lie to you about it. And - you know I respect you," Scully sighed as Skinner shrugged his shoulders and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"Scully, really, I do realize that and that's, that's why..." 

"That's also why this is hard for all three of us?" 

"No shit," Skinner replied with a rueful nod of his head. Scully nodded also and continued her thoughts on the matter. 

"I know you feel you were acting out your jealousy during that meeting. Walter, Mulder was to a degree also. I'd asked him to try to keep himself in check and let me handle this situation. He was trying but he did have that rage just simmering below the surface. I know you saw it. I think you may have been reacting to it as well." 

"It's no excuse, Scully." 

"All right, we, we've been down that path all ready, I guess." 

"Right. So?" 

"Well, Lord Walter! Now you've told me you may love me too. What do you think Mulder's going to say about that revelation?" 

She glanced over at Skinner again. He had turned to look at her and she saw the guilt warring with anger and sadness in his face. She knew he was trying to fight his feelings for her. Denial of everything he felt for her was winning out. It made Scully feel more comfortable but it also upset her. She still wasn't sure whether she wanted him to deny anything. She moved to touch him again, thought better of it and let her words try to comfort him instead. 

"Oh, crap. I'm sorry, that, that wasn't necessary. Talk about being way out of line. I shouldn't belittle your feelings. It's not fair." 

"Not fair? I'll tell you what's not fair," Skinner replied, "not fair is me shoving my dick between you and Mulder and then expecting you to..." 

"Oh, please, Walter. Don't think it's unfair to expect me to still be attracted to you. Of course I'm still attracted to you. I mean - God, I AM a woman you know. For Pete's sake - even Kimberly is attracted to you - or didn't you know that? She wasn't just asking me to check up on you because she expects that raise with her annual review, Walter. If your Executive Assistant can have the hots for you, to maybe care a little bit about you, why can't I?" Whoa Scully thought. Rein it in, stop now. This is really getting dicey here. 

Skinner shook his head. His face was caught somewhere between distress and bemusement. He settled on bemusement and smiled just a bit. Then he grew serious again. 

"But Scully, lust and love are miles apart. I think you, and Kimberly for that matter, are savvy enough to know the difference. I give you both a hell of a lot more credit for smarts in that area than you seem to think I do. I know you don't really love me even if you do care for me. I know you're concerned for my well being. You're a very caring person, Scully. You hide it behind that stoic exterior of yours but I've seen it. I've seen it shown towards Fox Mulder all the time. I have no business letting my feelings, my recent feelings for you overcome my common sense. I should not be forcing myself between you and Mulder. It just isn't right." 

Scully ran a hand over her face. Ok fine she thought. So he's going to fight the feeling now. Well, that's good but I still can't let him think he's a total loser as a human being. And what makes him think I'd throw myself at Mulder instead of him anyway? Well, I know he hates himself. He said as much in the Home for Boys. He must think he's totally worthless and that I'd naturally prefer Fox Mulder. Oh, for crying out loud. She spoke and her voice cracked with her words. 

"This is too much, Walter. Look, even if your feelings are a recent development what the hell difference does that make? Are you trying to say I should go throw myself at Mulder because he had first dibs?" she asked somewhat shrilly. "Shit," she thought. This was all starting to get to her wasn't it? Oh Mother Mary. Please don't let me get hysterical now. I can't afford it. 

"Scully, that's not fair for you either, I..." 

"Fair? I'll tell you what's not fair for me. Not fair is for me to have no idea whether I love you or Mulder, or whether I love either of you at all. Not fair is having my head completely fucked up and then dreaming every bloody night that I'm fucking you both!" she blurted out before she could stop herself. She turned beet red and slapped her hand over her mouth. Oh God, Oh God. How could I possibly have said that out loud. 

Skinner shifted next to her and then he gave out a sharp barking laugh. This was beyond the Twilight Zone, shit, it was way beyond an X-File, he thought. I HAVE gone round the bend. To hell in a hand cart. Looney Toons. Nuts. 

"What's so funny?" she said turning to fix him with a piercing glare. 

"Remind me to tell you about a dream I had once," he chuckled cryptically. An image of a dance floor, really loud techno rock music, and a hotly erotic Mulder and Scully ran through his head. OK, don't go there - he gave himself a hard mental slap in the face. 

"What?" Scully asked again annoyance permeating her voice. 

"Nothing, it's, it's ok. What I meant to say was if it's any consolation, I can't stop dreaming about you. When I haven't been having a nightmare, you've been, uh..." Skinner began and then he stopped dead. Crap, he thought I didn't mean to let anything about the nightmares slip out. 

Scully's face softened almost instantly. "Oh God," she thought. He'd mentioned nightmares when he was talking to me after we...I knew about the nightmares and the sleep clinic, that incident with the prostitute....and now - they're back?" 

"You mentioned nightmares in the room, Walter. You talked about your Vietnam nightmares..." she whispered. 

"You heard me talking about those?" he asked quietly, "I thought you were asleep," he added tensely. 

"Oh no," Scully thought, "How could I be so stupid to get busted so easily," Because I'm rapidly losing my rational mind that's why she thought with bitter chagrin. She made a vain attempt to soften the blow of her faux pas, "I...I wasn't asleep at first. I couldn't help hearing a lot of what you said." 

"Oh, for Christ sake," Skinner blustered, "I...those were...shit." He had rambled that night. He knew he had spilled his guts. After a certain point he wasn't able to hold any of it back. But, he had thought Scully was asleep and now he knew she had been awake. Heard some of his innermost secrets. Knew his heart. 

"Scully, those were deeply personal...matters. Things I wish you hadn't..." 

"Walter, I felt honored to hear them. And I just wanted to let you know that I all ready knew about the...about the deal. During my cancer. When I said Mulder and I respected you more than you could ever know...That's only one of the reasons why we do." Scully replied in a low voice, "And I'm terribly sorry about the nightmares." She let her hand stray to his again. It just brushed the back of it as Skinner pulled his hand away. 

Skinner shrugged again. He stared off into the distance. He was staring at nothing for a moment. Then he sighed deeply. 

"Scully, what do you want to do about all this...about us?" he asked. 

"I don't know. I need more time to think about it now that you've...after what you said." 

"About falling in love with you?" 

"Yes." 

Skinner nodded. "Do you want my advice Scully?" 

Scully sighed, "Do I have a choice?" she saw Skinner tense up immediately at the words. "Sorry. Not the best way to word the question I guess. Oh hell. Yes, Walter, I'll take any help I can get to sort this out." 

"My advice to you would be to call Mulder up right now. Maybe he didn't go to Connecticut. Shit, I'll drop you off if he's still home. I'd go over there Scully and tell Mulder how much you really do love him and then I'd never look back." 

"Walter!?" Scully exclaimed slightly shocked. 

"I mean it Scully. Even if I do love you I know this would never work. You can't love me. You may, and pardon the bluntness here, you may have enjoyed fucking me as much as I enjoyed having you. But I know you don't feel for me the same depth of commitment, love, and trust that you feel for Fox Mulder. Just give it some thought Scully and I know you'll realize you don't love me - you're in love with Mulder." 

"Well, thank you for settling that for me. Should I stop calling you Walter and just start calling you Daddy now?" Scully spat out the words, anger rushing into her chest. "Oh, and by the way - I didn't know you were psychic," she added sarcastically, "Maybe I SHOULD tell Mulder about that new talent, SIR." 

Skinner frowned deeply. His face began to flush. "Scully..." he started to growl. Scully caught his eyes. The depth of his discomfort and unhappiness made her want to scream. 

"Walter, look, I'm sorry." Scully let out her breath with a shudder. Her anger went with it. She was just so damned tired. "I shouldn't have gone there. My head still hurts a bit and I'm ...God, I'm just beat. Forget it," Scully finished. She ran a hand through her hair and pushed several strands back behind her ear. 

Scully said the words and anger warred with fatigue for possession of her body and her mind. How dare he assume he knew what's good for me even if he just might be right. And of course he was selling himself short - just like Mulder. God she was so sick of this shit. The guilt, the lack of confidence. The whining. Oh for God's sake what was wrong with these two men? 

She felt like throwing her hands up in disgust. But, suddenly she realized two things very clearly. The first was that she just didn't have the emotional energy to continue the conversation. The second was that even though she was angry and drained she was also once again becoming utterly and undeniably sexually aroused. She groaned inwardly. Skinner's close proximity, his warm, hard masculinity the scent of his cologne, the fact that they had touched each other several times over the last few minutes, and all her emotional turmoil were becoming too much for her at last. She shook her head in self derision. She wanted him again and she really did not want to go there. Nope, not right now. Maybe not at all. "Oh sure you don't Dana," a voice in the back of her mind chimed in. The voice got her attention and made her come to an instant decision. 

"Listen, Walter. I...I think I've discussed this subject as much as I can today. Would you take me home? I'll go home and rest for a while and then I'll consider calling Mulder. All right, sir?" She looked over at Skinner. The look of tenderness on his face made her swallow hard. Oh God, he...he looks so... 

"Good, I...I think that's a good decision, Scully," Skinner said gently. He reached into his pocket for his car keys. 

Walter Skinner gripped the steering wheel of his '61 Corvette in grim determination. He drove like a man possessed by the devil. And maybe he was he thought with dismay. Maybe his head would start spinning in a minute like what was her name? Regan? Yeah his head would rotate like that kid in the damned Exorcist. Sit and spin Walter, sit and fucking spin. Oh Shit. 

He wanted to get Scully home as quickly as possible. He wanted to dump her off on the sidewalk in front of her apartment, find the nearest bar and get stinking, shit-faced drunk. He could take a cab home. He'd get falling down, blind drunk. Why? He didn't want to see the truth that's why. 

Because, in spite of all his noble pronouncements in the park, he had lied - lied like a rug to Scully under that tree. He didn't want her to call Mulder. Oh sure he knew she SHOULD call him. She loved Mulder. She should be with Mulder. It was the best thing for her. But God help him he wanted her. He was half positive it was love, but he was completely sure it was lust and his blood was beginning to boil with the raw heat of his sexual arousal. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop the combustion. He needed to pour some bourbon down his throat to quench the flames. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer - just like the song. And he needed to do it soon. What in the name of God is wrong with me? Who the hell cares - a voice in the back of his mind laughed in his face. 

So Skinner was speeding, one eye out for the DC cops and the other eye on the road ahead. This was best because neither eye could watch Dana Scully. He didn't want to think about his third eye. Nope. He was hoping it really was a third eye blind as he raced towards the setting sun. 

Scully tried to stare straight ahead. She was still angry and she stoked her anger. If she was angry the other emotions wouldn't enter her head. Oh Lord. She couldn't help herself. She glanced over and caught a glimpse of Skinner's muscular arm in his tight white t-shirt sleeve. His bicep was flexing as his forearm moved his large hand on the gear shift. <Oh shit>. "I'm losing it for sure. What is wrong with me?" she asked herself over and over. I mean is it a full moon tonight? Or maybe I'm ovulating - Oh right - I don't have anything to ovulate with do I? Oh MY GOD how much further can I sink! It must be my hormones. Raging hormones. See! Fuck you Mulder! This is what 5 years of sexual tension has done to me. You bastard. Fuck you...I should have, you should have... 

She just wanted to get home. She wanted Skinner to drive her home as quickly as possible, drop her at her apartment so she could race up the steps, throw open the door, and then slam it shut and bolt it behind her. Because if she didn't she wasn't sure what would happen now. Oh liar, liar pants on fire. And hell they were too. 

"Scully, this is your apartment isn't it?" Skinner was asking her. 

"What?" Scully replied in alarm. She had been concentrating so hard on reading license plates that she hadn't even noticed they had reached her residence. 

"This is your HOME, isn't it Scully?" 

Scully blinked at Skinner. Her face was flushed and her breath shuddered in her mouth. Her mouth dropped open and nonsense came tumbling out.

"Oh, yes..Uh. Thanks for the lift, sir. Uh, look Walter, I'm sorry. We, we can talk about this more later. And I...I really will seriously consider your advice about calling Mulder." 

Skinner looked at Scully intently. His brown eyes were piercing her blue ones. Their darkness was rushing, rushing at her....Scully suddenly thought she heard and felt something flowing towards her. The air seemed to grow very thick - like black strap molasses. It was flowing darkly over her. Everything grew quiet, sounds were deadened as if the molasses was flowing into both her ears. She felt like her brain was soaking in it. A slow soak. It was lazy, and gooey, and sweet and... 

"Scully, do you have any beer? I'm really thirsty. I could use a drink," Skinner was saying from some sticky, soft and sweet place. He sounded very far away. 

"Beer, oh sure, Walter. Come on up and have a beer," Scully heard herself answer. 

Skinner stood just inside the door to Scully's apartment and looked around. <Well, here I am and now what?> He hadn't really expected Scully to invite him up. Jesus he had hardly realized he had asked her for that beer. But he really was thirsty. Parched. His mouth was as dry as a desert. Right Walter. Thirsty - uh huh. He watched as Scully tossed her hooded sweatshirt over a chair. 

Scully turned to him and said, "Why don't you sit down on the couch and I'll go get you that beer. Just make yourself comfortable." 

"All right, thanks," he replied with a diffident smile just playing about his lips. Scully disappeared into the kitchen. 

"OhGodOHGOD," she thought as she opened the door to her fridge. Why in the hell did I invite him in here? What now? I have to get rid of him as soon as possible. I'll just get him a beer and then..." She realized the inside of the fridge felt really good. Cold and refreshing and wonderfully icy on the front of her body. Refreshing on the front and her back? Good Lord - her back was warm, warmer... so hot...OhDAMN! She grabbed the beer and slammed the door shut. 

Scully walked back out into the living room. Skinner was seated on the couch just where she had directed him to sit. "Will wonders never cease?" she thought. He'd taken an order from her. As soon as he spotted her he stood up, smoothing the front of his jeans down in a reflexive movement. Force of habit from the office Scully thought and then - Oh don't look there, as her eyes strayed below his waist. 

"Is that Beck's?" Skinner asked. 

"Yes, Beck's," Scully managed to choke out, jerking her eyes up to look at his face. 

Skinner walked around the couch and stood leaning up against it's back. He extended his hand towards her. Scully walked forward and slapped the beer into it quickly. She wanted to step back but found that her feet had suddenly lost their will to move. 

Skinner hefted the beer but he never took his eyes off Scully. "God, it, it's hot in here," he thought. He lifted the beer and ran it across his brow savoring the icy coolness of the bottle against his scalp. He ran it down the side of his neck. He considered running it down inside his jeans to cool off his dick too but that idea didn't stay under consideration for very long. He didn't want to think about that area of his anatomy. But of course he couldn't help it now. 

He twisted the cap off the bottle. He tipped the bottle up to his lips. He took a long pull from the neck. The beer hit the back of his throat in a frigid blast and he closed his eyes in pleasure. 

Scully was mesmerized as she watched his larynx work to swallow the brew. She felt her own throat swallow air. 

Skinner lowered the bottle, "Thank you. This is very good. I was really hot, and nothing cools me off like an ice cold beer, Scully," he whispered. He glanced at the half empty bottle, turning it in his large hand. He lifted his other hand and fingered the cap. He looked up at Scully and held the cap out to her with a raised eyebrow. 

Scully walked close and held out her hand, palm up. Skinner brought his hand up to hers and started to place the cap in her palm. As he touched her fingers his hand closed over hers. The cap was trapped between their palms. He pinned her eyes. 

"Are you hot, Scully? Would you like some beer?" Skinner asked. 

"Yes," Scully whispered looking up into his lenses. 

"Yes, what?" Skinner asked huskily. 

"Yes, I'm hot," she replied, "and I'd like some," she added. 

Skinner continued to stare deep into her blue eyes. He reached forward with the beer bottle and ran it's still frosty surface down the side of her face and then down her neck. 

He rolled the cold, green bottle down her neck and over the top of her tits. The heat of her sexual arousal caused water to run off the bottle. A tiny rivulet ran past the top of her t-shirt and down inside and over her right nipple. Scully's lips parted as Skinner touched the rivulet through her t-shirt with one fingertip. He uncurled his finger from the bottle to do so. He traced the rivulet's path, circling her erect nipple with first his fingertip and then the rest of the bottle. What remained of the bottles coolness only served to stoke her heat further. Scully licked her lips. 

Skinner's eyes focused on her mouth. The bottle began a lazy ascent across her other breast, up onto her neck, the side of her neck, up...up...and over to her chin. 

Scully's eyes grew wide. "Tttthat's all folks," her mind stuttered. Skinner brought the bottle up to her lips. 

"Some what?" Skinner asked. His low voice drove right through her chest. It took her breath away when it burst from her back. 

"Walter..." she breathed, "Oh hell, wrong thing to...." she thought. 

The beer bottle pulled away from her lips and went behind Skinner's back. It slid gently down the back of the couch to come to rest upright and snug between the cushions. Skinner simultaneously shifted his hand on hers and the bottle cap fell from between their palms. It fell to the floor and bounced away. 

Scully gasped as the skin of their palms touched. An electric shock of scalding arousal zapped from her palm, up her arm and then took a sharp U-turn down her body and right between her legs. She was instantly wet and a tiny whimper issued unbidden from somewhere deep in her stomach. 

"IwantIwantIwantIwant...I WANT HIS..." Scully's mind and her whole body screamed but actions speak louder then words. 

"OhChrist," Skinner growled and then they were all over each other. 

Scully yanked on Skinner's t-shirt pulling it up violently out of the top of his jeans and over his muscular chest. He helped her to pull it off and threw it down onto the floor. His hands took her t-shirt off in one hard pull and then he reached forward and undid her bra - the front fastening running bra she had decided to wear that morning. The bra fell down to join their t-shirts. Both of them managed to get out of their sneakers and socks without even bending to do so. 

Skinner's hands took both her breasts at once but he remembered dimly that she didn't like it rough and instead he bent his head forward and began to gently suck and lick each of her nipples in turn. Scully's breath came in short gasps. She lifted one breast up from the bottom, encouraging him to take more of it into his mouth. She moaned as he nursed at her heavy, swollen flesh. 

Walter Skinner knew very distantly that what he was doing was horribly wrong - totally incorrect and now he had successfully damned them both. If he had stopped to think, the words *Farewell Fuck* might have entered his mind. But the overwhelming sensations of suckling at Scully's breast, of going back to a much earlier memory of something he could barely define as the ultimate comforting pleasure drove every thought of impropriety right out of his mind. He was lost, hopelessly lost, and he never wanted to be found. He gave in to the moment and focused all his attention on making Scully writhe and moan under his mouth. 

Dana Scully knew this was probably, no, was really the most foolish thing she had ever done in her life. Foolish, dangerous and damaging in the long term. Yet, she couldn't stop herself. God help me she thought - it, it's been so long and I just need someone's touch, the feel of someone's body against mine. She knew the man she really wanted wasn't Walter Skinner but it was a very fleeting knowledge which disappeared as soon as Skinner went down on his knees before her and began to unzip her jeans. 

"Oh..." she groaned as he pulled her jeans and panties down. "OH!" she cried loudly as his mouth kissed between her legs. 

Skinner tasted Scully. Her taste was indescribable. He savored her and he was beyond thought. He was on complete auto-pilot now and relying mostly on instinct and recall of a night on a musty mattress, in a small room, in a reform school for boys. He looked up over Scully's stomach, focused on her face and saw the face of an angel. "OhGod, you're so beautiful," he mumbled into her flesh. He nuzzled her clit experimentally and was met with a quick buck of her hips. Her thrust sent his head thudding into the couch back. It knocked his glasses up off his nose. He growled in his throat as he pulled the distraction off his face and tossed it over the couch back. He heard his specs clink against the beer bottle but the sound barely registered as he sucked on Scully's sensitive flesh. 

Scully's hips twisted and bucked under his mouth. OhGODOHGOD she thought. He...this is so good. He's going to make me come with just his mouth. OHDEARLORDYES. No words made it past her lips. All she could do was moan incoherently as Skinner sucked her off. 

Skinner could feel her thighs begin to tremble and he knew she was close. He reached up with his hand and thrust two fingers into her body. He pumped them as he nipped at her clit. That did it he thought, a triumphant groan erupting from him, as Scully groaned with him, grabbing his head with her shaking hands. 

"OHGOD!" she screamed at last as she crashed over the edge into a ripping orgasm. Skinner supported her legs as she shook against him. 

"That's it, that's it..." he murmured into her pubic hair as she trembled. 

As the tremors in her legs began to subside Skinner stood up and held her close with one strong arm. He reached down and undid the top button on his jeans. He needed to let himself lose or he was going to explode. 

Scully reached down and began to help him. She unzipped his fly and pushed his jeans down from his trim hips. Skinner wriggled against her. "Uhhhhh" Scully gasped at the movement as his jeans fell down to his feet. She glanced down and grinned slightly. He was wearing a pair of red boxers. So, Saturdays aren't for *tightie whities* she thought. The boxers were the same shade as his Corvette's paint job. Skinner followed her eyes and when she looked up he could just see her grin. He returned it. Scully reached down and pulled at his boxer's. She had to tug a bit to get them past his erection. The scraping of cloth over his swollen flesh caused Skinner to groan loudly. 

Skinner gasped as she pulled his cock free and his boxers fell the rest of the way to the floor. He kicked them to the side. Ohshit. She started to run her fingers up and down his length. He struggled for control. He didn't want to shoot his wad yet, no sir. He started to count cadence in his head. Funny how those Marine cadences came back to an old soldier he thought as he called it off. "This is my rifle, this is my gun. One's for killing the other's for fun." He started to moan and then Scully was on her knees in front of him. "OHSWEETJESUS!" he cried as she took his cock into her mouth. 

She worked her mouth all the way to the base and then back up to the end again. More than once. She cradled his balls in one hand and rolled his testicles around in their sack. By the time she let go and ran her tongue around the head of his penis Skinner had to brace his arms on the couch back to hold himself steady. His hips were thrusting forward under their own power. He gripped the couch. He felt his neck muscles cording under the absolute sensory overload of it all. 

"Oh good...that...that's so good," he just managed to whisper. And then she went back to swallowing him again. It was going to be too much - he knew it. He felt himself begin to leak pre-ejaculate and he managed to get one hand off the back of the couch. 

"Wait," he growled entwining his fingers in her red tresses. Scully looked up over his flat stomach. OHGOD! he thought. She was grinning around a really full mouth. Skinner shut his eyes and tilted his head back because he would have blown up like a fucking hand grenade if he'd kept looking. 

He felt rather then saw her release his cock. He let go of her hair and straightening up, reached for her shoulders and pulled her upright. He rocked back a bit into the couch for extra leverage. 

"I...I..." he wanted to tell her how much this meant to him. How wonderful she looked, and smelled, and tasted and how he wanted to be inside her right now - but all he could do was make gurgling sounds in his throat. SHIT! 

Scully looked down at his straining cock and then back up into his eyes. She knew she was more than ready. Christ, her thighs were slick with her inner juices. 

"Walter," she purred, "just fuck me." 

Skinner didn't need to ask her to repeat herself. He reached forward with both hands and picked her up. Scully mewled in surprise as he pulled her quickly forward, shifted her up and rammed her onto his cock with one tremendous thrust. 

"OHGOD!" she screamed in pleasure. She could feel every inch of his hard, thick cock. He was so huge but oh God he felt so good. How in the hell can he be doing this? she thought as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Is he that strong? she wondered vaguely as he began to thrust into her. Guess so. She began to go along for the ride. 

Skinner felt like a bull. Like a God damned, blue ribbon winning bull. And oh yeah, he was standing at stud for sure. He felt like he could stand there holding Scully up on his dick forever and fuck her until her tonsils rattled. He pulled out and pumped back into her using his arms, and hips and the back of the couch to propel her forward half off and then back onto the entire length of his erection. Scully clung to him. She was sobbing and slapping his shoulders begging him to do it harder and faster and...he was only too happy to oblige. Soon the only sound in the room was their moans and the sound of Walter's balls slapping up hard against Scully's cunt. 

It was so good but he realized he was going to have trouble coming this way. He needed to push in even harder. And he wanted to free up his hands too so he could...so he could help Scully come again as well. He glanced up. Oh yeah. There are walls in this room he thought with an inner laugh. He slowed his thrusting. Scully made a small noise in protest. 

"Hang on baby," he hissed into her hair, "I just need a little support here." Scully sagged against him as he held her by the ass and walked forward. She felt her back hit the opposite wall, next to the kitchen door. 

"Here we go," Skinner growled and then he snaked one hand down between her legs. The force of his body against her and her legs wrapped around his waist kept her tight against the wall as she shut her eyes and savored his fingers stroking her clit. 

"Is this good?" he whispered. She grunted slightly and tightened her body around his cock. 

"Is this?" she laughed. 

"YouBitch," Skinner chuckled. And then he began to thrust into her again. Hard. Scully's back thudded up against the wall in time with his pumping hips. Scully threw her head back and bit her lip over the sensations of his rock hard erection twitching inside her, the movement of his hand on her own small feminine version of a hard on. 

"OhfuckohFUCK" Skinner began to sob with each pistoning movement into her. He had to take his hand from between her legs and place it, palm flat against the wall. He was all ready using the other hand to grip the edge of the door frame so he could really ram into her. He was so close and Jesus did he ever want to come. He hoped to God Scully was close enough to come too because he just couldn't concentrate on anything anymore as the wave of his own orgasm began to roll towards him. From the feel of things it wasn't going to be just a wave. It was going to be a fucking Tsunami. 

Scully realized he couldn't keep up his circling movement on her clit. He was pretty much beyond rational thought. Well, she had just enough mind left to reach down with one hand to take care of things on her own. She was so close anyway it only took a couple of quick tugs and she was home free. "OHGODWALTER!" she yelled as her entire body convulsed in a mind blowing orgasm. She gripped Skinner's waist tight with her legs and her inner muscles clamped down over his cock. 

"Uhhhhhhhh" Skinner grunted as he rammed into Scully hard, fast and deep. So tight, so tight so fucking tight, fuckfuck his mind shrieked over and over. "Ssssc..." he tried to say her name but nothing would come out. He groaned one last time and then the huge wave that had had been rushing towards shore broke over him, and throwing his head back he howled in ecstasy. 

He pounded Scully into the wall as her body milked his cock for all it was worth. Once, twice, three times, and a last, desperate shuddering thrust. They were both crying out hoarsely trying to ring out every last spasm of pleasure from their flesh. Skinner's thrusts began to finally slow and become more languid. His knees went weak all at once and he collapsed towards the floor. He tried to go slowly, lowering Scully along the wall until he felt the carpet below his naked ass. He fell back taking Scully over on top of him. She slid wetly off his now flaccid penis. She lay over his chest and hips gasping for breath. 

"JesusGod, Scully," Skinner's breath came in noisy rasping gasps as well. He brought one heavy arm up and tenderly placed it over Scully's back. He stroked between her shoulder blades. 

"Are...are you all right?" he asked quietly. He felt her nod her head in the affirmative. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" she whispered shifting over to slide off next to him 

"Yeah, I was dying under the weight," Skinner chuckled. He ran his large hand along her ass as she slipped down. 

He laid flat on his back and looked myopically up at Scully's ceiling. She pulled closer and rested her head on his shoulder and bicep. She stroked his chest as his breath finally began to slow. He shut his eyes. 

"Christ Scully, I'm...I'm so tired," he whispered in a very small voice. 

"Go to sleep, Walter," she breathed into his ear. There was a note of sadness in her voice. "Go to sleep," she said. And he did. 

Walter S. Skinner's head snapped up in confusion. He blinked rapidly. "What the hell - where? Oh yeah, patrol. Whoa I must have been tired," he thought, "Well, fuck - that was all right - the sergeant had said take five after all." Skinner rocked back against the huge gum tree he was sitting against. He swatted at a fat, whining mosquito as it buzzed past his nose. "Christ I hate this friggin' jungle," he thought for about the thousandth time that day. "God, what a weird dream," he thought. "A fuckin' wet dream," he smiled ruefully. He shifted his rifle where it lay across his lap. It was pressing too hard against his sudden, raging hard on. 

"So, Sinnuh, what're you grinnin' about? Feeling mighty fine are we, son?" 

Skinner swung his head around. John "Cracker" Rand sat a couple of feet away from him. He was leaning against the base of a mammoth palm tree. Cracker was unwrapping another piece of Bazooka bubble gum and popping it into his mouth. As he chewed he grinned at Skinner. 

"What are you trying to say around that wad, Cracker?" Skinner chuckled. Rand had so much gum crammed into his maw that he looked like a God damned chipmunk. His hazel eyes sparkled as his jaw worked over his stash. 

"Well, I just thought you'd be feeling real feisty after that little bit of poontang you just had buddy? I mean Jesus that red head could really wail." 

Skinner raised an eyebrow in confused amusement. "Red head? Do you know something I don't know, you twelve-toed hillbilly." 

"You mean you don't remember her Waltuh? Shame on you long dong. How could you possibly forget a piece of prime pussy like - what the hell was her name?" Cracker laughed. His thin, feral face took on a wicked grin. 

Skinner shook his head to clear it. There was suddenly a loud buzzing in his ears. It was a hell of a lot louder then that God damned mosquito. "Red head? What the fuck. Yeah, he'd been dreaming about a red head a minute ago. A gorgeous, blue eyed, red head and she'd been, they'd been..." 

"Scully, her name was Scully," Skinner whispered in wonder as Rand nodded his head in confirmation. 

"Yessir, Sinnuh. Scully, Dana K. Scully. How do you feel about your little lady today, Waltuh? How do you think she feels about her Boss man now? Do you think she really enjoyed having you bang her up against that wall, Waltuh? Was what's she's going to think in the morning worth it, big man?" Rand asked. His voice was no longer filled with humor. He was very serious. Dead serious. 

Walter Skinner stared at his friend. Cracker's handsome face was pulled down in a frown. He raised an eyebrow and then he turned his head to the side and spat out his wad of bubble gum. It hit the jungle floor and disappeared into the foliage. Cracker's soft sensual lower lip gave him a really annoying pout. Skinner couldn't help but realize that his best friend thought he was the biggest idiot in the whole world right at that moment. 

Skinner took in Rand's words and his expression of reproach and he became infinitely sad as well. In fact he felt horrible. Guilty. Disgusted with himself. He knew he shouldn't have fucked her. It was...it was wrong. Never meant to happen. They were never meant to be together like that. Not Walter Skinner and Dana Scully. Scully was...she was meant for another. 

"Cracker - I, I..." 

"Waltuh, I asked you love or lust buddy. That was lust you dick. Not love - and not to be - ever. I told you to wise up, buddy. I didn't say, fuck up." John Rand scolded his friend with a rueful shake of his head, "You've been putting it to another man's woman, big dawg. There's gonna be hell to pay." 

"Oh Shit," Skinner replied, "I really screwed the pooch this time." 

"Well I wouldn't exactly put it that way, Sinnuh. Screwed the pooch - nah! I'd say more like you fucked the fox, hound dog. Yeah, you can't fuck the fox on the foxhunt, Sinnuh. it ain't right to fuck the fox!" Cracker barked a harsh laugh and then he shook his head. 

"Wonderful," Skinner sighed cradling his rifle in his hands. He didn't have a clue what John was going on about with the God damned fox shit. All he knew was he felt terribly sad and wretchedly tired and he wanted to lay his head down and go back to sleep. As he formed the thought he heard a ringing in his ears. A loud insistent ringing." 

"Cracker, do you hear that ringing?" Skinner asked, his brow furrowing in worry. "What's up with that ringing?" he asked. 

"I hear it Sinner," Cracker's voice came to him suddenly devoid of his southern twang. Skinner turned to look at his friend. Cracker was staring at him and Skinner thought - Jesus I guess I never realized just how much he looks like.... 

"Yes, I hear it, Walter, why don't you ask Kimberly to answer the phone?" Cracker suggested from his spot against the palm tree nearby. 

"Kimberly, who the fuck is Kimberly?" Skinner asked in fearful confusion. 

Walter Skinner awoke with a start, his breath rushing out of his chest. He gagged and then coughed violently as he rolled over and sat up. Oh Christ, he moaned. He looked around, struggling to take in his whereabouts. What the hell am I doing lying naked on the floor? Oh yeah. Damn it to hell. He more than remembered where he was now. He still heard the ringing. It WAS a phone and suddenly it stopped and an answering machine message kicked in. 

"You have reached the home of Dana Scully. I can't take your call right now. If you'll leave a concise message and your phone number after the beep I WILL get back to you." There was a shrill piping electronic bleat and a voice came over the line. 

Skinner blinked in utter confusion. The voice sounded all the world like John C. Rand minus the Georgia boy drawl. Skinner realized with dismay that it was Fox Mulder speaking and he could plainly see, even without his specs, a naked Dana Scully standing right next to the phone as Mulder's words wound out into the room. 

"Scully, pick up if you're there. Pick up Scully. Dana?" The last word was said very quietly and followed by an audible sigh. Skinner watched Scully. She stood as if hypnotized. Her right hand rested at the base of her neck. Her other arm was stretched tightly across her breasts. 

Mulder's voice came out of the machine again. There was a catch in it. He sounded bone tired and very upset although he was trying magnificently to mask it. Scully's hand began to shake slightly on her neck, and Skinner could see that her eyes were starting to tear up too. "Oh fuck," he thought. His chest filled with emotion. He ran a hand over his mouth and Scully's mouth moved and formed one word, "Mulder," she whispered and a tear slid down her cheek. 

"Ok, I guess you're not home. Scully, I just wanted to let you know - I didn't go up to Connecticut. I...I couldn't go. I...shit - I've been sitting here in the apartment since Friday night trying to get up the guts to call you and say I'm sorry. Please - I acted like a total asshole Friday afternoon. God, I've been acting like a fucking asshole for months. I'd like to come over to your place and talk. Just talk about...about us. Scully, I...this thing with Skinner, it doesn't matter. I think you know how I feel. I love you Scully. Come on, pick up if you're there. Crap! I'm such a total dickhead. I don't blame you if you tell me to go to hell and burn there. I deserve it. But look, if, if you can see clear to forgive me - please call me when you get in OK? I'll be here. I can come over or you can come over here. Whatever. Just...please call me. Uh, OK, I'll talk to you later." The line went dead. 

Skinner watched as tears streamed down Dana Scully's face. The words *Farewell Fuck* jumped instantly into his mind at last. Yeah. Fucking A. Fare-the-well and good riddance to you, Walter. He more then deserved it. Guilt and self-loathing followed his unspoken words. He felt his own hot tears spring into his eyes. "I am a total loser as a human being and I should be shot again and put out of my misery," he thought. "and failing that possibility - I should get the fuck out of this apartment and out of that brilliant woman's life. It's probably too late to repair the damage I've done to her and the man she should have been with here tonight. But at least she won't have to look at the face of her betrayer any longer. He shook his head in condemnation and then without a word he got up off the floor and began to silently gather his clothing. 

The first article of clothing he put on was his glasses so he could find all the rest of his garments. He shoved the specs onto his face with such violence he knew he'd bruised the bridge of his nose. Skinner dressed as quickly as possible. Finally, he fished his car keys out of his jeans pocket and walking to Scully's front door let himself out without looking back again. Dana Katherine Scully's eyes never left the answering machine. 

Fox Mulder was a man on a mission. He devoutly hoped it wasn't *Mission Impossible*. He could just about see his entire life self-destructing just like Phelp's TV tape recorder and it was making him want to vomit. After Scully hadn't called him back for hours Mulder began to worry that something was really wrong. He'd hurried to shower and shave and don some clean clothes so he'd look presentable when he broke down her door. JesusHChrist. He had a key for God's sake. He was so far gone he didn't remember he had her spare key. 

Now he was driving over to her apartment and he was pounding on the steering wheel because some guys car had stalled at the stop light and he couldn't get through traffic. It was almost 10 PM and he didn't want to waste another minute. 

God I've been such an ungrateful moron, a total imbecile for months and cruel beyond measure. How could I have done this to Scully? he thought. The only woman in this entire world, in my entire life, that I've ever had one iota of true feeling for - true love, respect and trust and now I've hurt her in the worst way possible by abrogating it all. Selfish and despicable were only two words to describe what he thought of himself. The rest would have filled Websters Dictionary and there would still be some left over for Roget's Thesaurus as well. 

So what if he was having a personal crisis of faith? Did he have to drag her down into the maelstrom of self doubt with him? Was that fair? Was it kind? Hell no. God what a fuck up. The worst part had been that recent business with her daughter. He could still hear his voice - he gritted his teeth as he thought of the utter stupidity of his comments. "Oh yeah, take a step back - it's not a good idea to get involved in this type of case, Scully - or some such crock of shit. Yeah right. The pot calling the kettle black! Who's been involved up to his eyeballs here for years and has refused to step away even when it was in doubt his sister was even still alive? Shoot me, just shoot me now! He might never have a chance with Scully now. He would be better off dead and she would definitely be better off without him. 

No wonder she'd fucked Skinner. OH God. It hadn't been like that at all. Logically Mulder knew what had gone on in that room in the Home for Boys. "I mean what should Scully have done - taken a bullet instead of spread her legs?" Shit. There had been no choice for either her or Skinner that night. What must she have gone through... 

And Skinner? Walter Skinner? He could just imagine what Skinner had gone through too. God! Mr. Walter F*Buttkicking*I Skinner?? Mulder's mind boggled at the idea. Still he couldn't help but envision them together and wonder if maybe...I mean could she have...oh shit no way. Skinner's such a...tight assed son of a bitch he couldn't possibly have...couldn't have given her the best fuck she'd ever had - made her scream his name and beg for more. Driven me right out of her mind with his cock? OhHellOhHELL - Grow up. This is Dana Scully. Logical, rational, Dana....I haven't been laid since maybe Ed Jerse and Jesus what the hell is taking Fox Mulder so long doesn't he see the way I'm looking at him, and my mouth is open a little all the time and how my lips are so inviting and...and...I can hardly stand it, I can hardly stand...I can hardly... 

Not see them together. I can still imagine them in my mind's eye. I'm trying not to but the visions are there. Skinner? God the guy's as big as a fucking house. And Dana is so...fragile, so petite. Christ. He's hung like a fucking bull. Whoa yes! How the hell can I ever hope to measure up to that? Once Scully had a taste of Walter *Brick Wall* Skinner she'd probably never want a limp dicked wonder like me. Well - I'm not really limp but I don't have the fucking Washington Monument between my legs either. I've seen Skinner in the FBI gym locker room a couple of times. HOLY SHIT. Mulder's mind reeled it all out just like one of his pornographic videos and he felt nauseous again. 

But Scully HAD told him she was confused about things now. About their relationship and her relationship with Skinner. She had been so obtuse and evasive in that tool shed in Virginia that Mulder wasn't totally sure what she meant regarding seeking closure. All he knew was he had to make her understand that he loved her beyond life itself, that he was sorry for his actions over the last months, and none of the stuff with Skinner mattered and could she just please love him and forgive him, let him hold her and love her and...His mind spun as he pressed the accelerator and wound his car past the traffic jam and on into the night. 

Dana Scully had stood next to her answering machine for quite some time after Mulder's voice had ceased to come out of it. She had been vaguely aware that Skinner was moving about her living room picking up his clothing and getting dressed. She bit her lip and refused to look at him. All she could look at was the phone, and all she could think about was Mulder. She had barely heard her front door shut on Skinner's back. 

This must be what burning in the fires of hell feels like she thought with gut-wrenching grief and guilt coursing through her very bloodstream. She absentmindedly touched the golden cross that hung around her neck trying to take comfort in the golden circle of her keepsake. 

How could she have done it? Had she really been that desperate - so lost in lust that she didn't stop to think about the consequences of her actions. Yes she answered - and I should burn for it. God should strike me dead. I escaped death once. God should rectify the mistake. But she had suffered so much, and she was only human. She was being unfair, too hard on herself. She always was her own worst critic too. She did have that in common with Mulder and apparently Skinner as well whether she wanted to admit it or not. But, she still had to face up to the consequences of her act. She should atone for her mistakes. She would have to talk this over with both Mulder and Skinner and make things right. That would be her penance. And it would be punishment enough. 

But Skinner? Walter Skinner was to blame to a degree as well. He could have had more restraint for God's sake. He was so uptight, so restrained in every way before. Why lose his mind now? Why? Because he's wants you. He thinks he may love you and he lost himself in the carnality of the moment. After all how long has it been since he's been laid for crying out loud? And what did I say - "Just fuck me, Walter?" OH Christ I gave him the damned permission! An engraved invitation just like the damned tattoo on my ass. 

She would still have to talk to him, though. She needed to explain that they could never be. It really would never work as he had said. Would never work because she really was in love with Fox Mulder. But oh God, that was going to be a hard thing to tell him. Hard to tell a guy after you've been pounding on his shoulders and screaming for him to fuck you harder that you don't care to have him touch you again. Right, sure! The only tiny bit of hope she held was that Skinner had chosen to flee her apartment rather then face her afterwards this time. So, he must have had some idea that what they had done was the biggest mistake of both their lives. 

She had known she didn't want him, didn't really love him as she had lain next to Skinner's sleeping form. She had felt remorse, and such an overwhelming feeling of self-loathing and disgust that she had crawled away from him. When she reached the couch she threw the beer bottle to the floor, climbed up and fallen asleep curled in a fetal position on the cushions. She had promptly dreamed of Mulder. She had dreamed he was putting a gun in his mouth in his apartment and Scully couldn't get to him in time to stop him. She jerked awake, in tears, to the sound of her phone ringing. 

Now she stood by the phone and Mulder's voice was replaying in her head without benefit of hitting the *Repeat* button on the answering machine. She should call him. She should just go to him. She had to explain. She wanted to make it all right. But Dana Scully still stood paralyzed. And she felt so cold, and so dirty and so.... 

Mulder pulled up in front of Scully's apartment. He was in near total panic now. He'd tried to call her several more times on the way and she hadn't answered her cell phone. He barely got the car in park and the keys out of the ignition before he jumped out and raced up the steps. He stopped short however and took a deep breath when he reached her door. All right. Let's...let's just calm down here he thought. He stepped close and knocked on the door. He waited. There was no answer. He waited some more. He knocked harder and harder...and...before he knew it he had the key in the lock and his gun drawn and he was inside and he heard running water somewhere in the back and he was running, and at the bathroom door, and looking into the stand alone shower, into steaming, rushing water and... 

"Christ, Scully! Dana! You're going to scald yourself!" he yelled. Mulder jammed his gun back in his holster as he grabbed a towel. He quickly wrapped it around Dana Scully's nude body where she crouched in the tub under the jet of hot water. Mulder pulled her up and out and into his arms as he fell back onto the floor, taking her down with him. 

"How long have you been in there Scully!? Dana - how long?" he cried examining her body for burns. There didn't seem to be any so she must have not been under the spray for long and actually it wasn't as hot as he had originally thought. He hadn't been burned when he pulled her out of the tub he realized. 

Mulder pushed up and turned the tubs faucet off with a yank. He settled back down again. He still held Scully tight, and he leaned up against the tub and tucked her head underneath his chin. She crawled up closer into his lap and clung to him pressing herself as close as she could. 

It didn't even register with Mulder that Scully was nude under the large fluffy towel. All he knew was she was crying, absolutely sobbing her heart out and Mulder rocked her and tried to calm her shaking body. 

"Oh God, Mulder! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you," she kept repeating over and over. Mulder held her close and kissed her hair. 

"Scully, I love you too. I'm so sorry too. Forgive me. It doesn't matter. I love you." 

Their words and tears mingled as they rocked together and the truth was out there and they felt at peace. 

The peace didn't last for long. 

Mulder sat in a chair across from Dana Scully and stared at her as she sat in her flannel bathrobe on her couch. She was sipping a cup of coffee that he had made for her. Mulder's hands were shaking and he was struggling once again to hold in his anger. He felt betrayed and he was trying to fathom just what additional dismal turn their lives, their relationship (Hell - what relationship?) could take. When it came right down to brass tacks he could almost understand what had happened but it didn't make it any easier to stomach. It was hard to take because he knew ultimately that it had been his fault and that's what bothered him more then anything. But he was angry - almost raging, and he knew he was dangerously close to slipping into some really infantile behavior. He felt, for instance, like he wanted to shoot Walter Skinner and he knew, logically, that that was really the last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to shoot himself a hell of a lot more. 

"Mulder, I'm sorry...I just...it was just fucking. I mean total raw lust and I don't have any other excuse. I just needed to...I needed to feel...to feel..." 

"Alive?" Mulder whispered. "Like maybe feel close, to feel like someone really cared even if it was just...just for sex alone and not for...." 

"Yes, maybe that is what I mean. I just needed to connect with someone. I wanted it to be you. I still want it to be you." 

"Oh, Scully..." 

"Mulder I love you, I...I don't love him. God, when I came...I - I saw your face Mulder. I didn't realize it until I thought about it afterwards but I imagined it was you making love to me not Walter Skinner. It was the same that night in the boys home. I screamed your name then, Mulder." 

"Jesus, Scully," Mulder said looking away. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this at all. 

"I'm so sorry," 

"All right, stop it with the *I'm so sorry* shit, Dana. That's my line. I'm the one that should be down on my knees begging you to forgive me for driving you into Skinner's arms. I've been the uncaring, selfish son of a bitch in this equation." 

"Mulder, I just felt terribly confused and I've felt that way for months. You've been so distant, skeptical. I thought you didn't trust me or want me around anymore. I...it's just been horrible." 

"I know it, Scully. I've been a total asshole. I'm to blame here - not you and not Walter Skinner. Skinner? He..he just took advantage of the situation. Maybe his position of authority..." 

"Took advantage!?" Scully thought all at once, "What the devil?" her mind tightened around those two words. 

Tick, tick, tick. The air in the room went suddenly very still. Dana Scully heard the noise of a ticking time bomb playing through her head. She could almost feel the clicking ticks of a relationship getting ready to blow right before her eyes. Scully thought she could also hear an approaching sucking sound as well. A sucking sound and a time bomb. The bomb had the words *DOWN THE TOILET* stenciled on the side. 

Scully frowned slightly, "Took advantage?" 

"Well, maybe that wasn't the right wording, I mean..." 

"Mulder, what DO you mean?" 

"I mean he should have realized - should have known..." 

"Known? How could he have known anything about us?" Scully asked. "Us? That's a joke. What us?" she thought. 

"Well, Scully I just find it hard to believe that after you told him there was someone special that night that he wouldn't think..." 

Scully started to tune Mulder's words out as he droned on and on about how Skinner should have known that she and Mulder had feelings for each other when neither one of them had even admitted it to themselves. It would have been a damn X-File if Walter Skinner had thought that she and Mulder were involved in some kind of real relationship, with real feelings and real sex instead of innuendo and banter.. He WOULD have had to have been psychic - precognitive - to figure that one out. Mulder found it hard to believe? What the hell? 

Scully felt anger growing in her chest. OhNoPLEASEdon'tlet THIShappenbetweenUSnowNOTNOWGOD...but it was happening and she was beyond stopping it. Scully set the coffee cup down and wiped what was left of her tears from her face.

I cannot believe him, she thought. How can this be happening? Just minutes ago Mulder was holding me and telling how much he loved me. He hadn't blamed her or Skinner in one breath and now he was accusing Skinner of taking advantage of her in the next. 

He's actually going to cop an attitude about Skinner now? I haven't even had time to really explain what happened. We haven't really talked yet. We've only scratched the surface of the problem and he's ready to throw his new found skepticism at me again? Well fuck this, fuck Mulder. Fuck Skinner. Fuck it all! 

She refocused on Mulder. 

"Blah, blah....So, I think Skinner really should have known when..." he was saying. 

"Skinner should have known what Mulder? That we've been lying to each other for five years regarding our real feelings? That both of us were too afraid to admit we love each other? That you have absolutely no claim over me really, and I don't have any on you either for that matter because we don't have THAT kind of relationship?" 

"No, Scully, that's not fair, I..." 

"Not fair? What the hell does that mean?" 

"I just mean I thought Walter Skinner would have more respect for you Scully. More respect for himself too." 

Scully gaped at Mulder, a stunned expression on her face, "Oh. So because Walter Skinner had the audacity to tell me he might love me that showed a lack of respect? Or maybe he was showing his contempt for me when he said he wanted to stop himself from loving me because he knew it was wrong and that I was really in love with you? Was that disrespectful?" 

"Come on Dana..." 

"No, wait, I know! It was lack of respect for YOU Mulder. He was showing his disrespect for you when he said he didn't want to ruin something precious that you and I had together - that you didn't deserve to be treated that way? Yes, that certainly showed lack of respect for us both, didn't it?" her voice was rising and she was powerless to stop it. 

"Scully..." Mulder tried to interrupt her again but she pushed on. 

"But - I bet I really know when he was being the MOST disrespectful. Yes, I know for sure. He was at his worst tonight Mulder. He showed his real contempt for me when he heard me say, "Walter, just fuck me," and then had the balls to accept the invitation. At least he had the respect to give me what I wanted Mulder, which is more than you've ever done in 5 years, you asshole." 

"What?" Mulder asked, blinking rapidly. 

"I said..." 

"I heard what you said," Mulder whispered, "You just said you asked him to fuck you. You said he's in love with you." 

Scully sighed. She was too emotionally wrecked to handle any more verbal fencing. Her previous remark bore out that fact. God, Mulder really hadn't deserved to find out she'd begged for Skinner's cock. And the self-centered, self righteous, idiot didn't realize it was Skinner's dick she'd wanted and not his love. She should have at least tried to temper that knowledge with a little kindness, a little tact, a little clarification. 

But hell, Mulder wasn't the King of tact or clarification either for God's sake. Why am I always so polite? Scully thought with a shake of her head. Well, she could still try to explain. She might as well try to do some damage control. Mulder was a friend (had been until tonight she thought sadly), and she tried to be honest with her friends. She felt her stomach begin to constrict with nausea. A voice in the back of her mind was gibbering and then howling in protest over the thought that she was most likely losing the man she loved more than anything else in the world. 

"Mulder I think what happened tonight was unfortunate. The result of two, well - God - two lonely people's raging libidos. Skinner's confused and he's very hurt and vulnerable right now. He's been under a terrible strain since that night in the Boy's Home. I think...I think he may be a bit delusional and he really didn't have control over his actions. I..I don't think I did either - not really." 

"No control? The Titan of Tight-Ass? Mr. Walter *Hard-on, oh, excuse me - *Hard-ass* Skinner lost control? Now that IS just a bit delusional, Scully," Mulder interrupted in a very hard, low voice. He'd spoken without thinking. OHSHIT he thought instantly. 

"Get out," Scully hissed coldly. 

"What?" 

"You heard me, I said get out of my home. Leave." 

"Scully I..." 

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Scully yelled rising to her feet in a rush. She stood shaking. She balled her fists as Mulder got up out of the chair and backed towards the door. 

"I want you to leave now, Mulder, before, before I shoot you again, you bastard. I can't take this any more. I need time away from you both. Get out. GET OUT NOW!" 

Mulder turned and became the second man that night to walk out of her apartment (out of her life?) without uttering another word. 

Dana Scully, tears flying from her eyes, picked up the coffee cup and sent it violently crashing into the closed apartment door. 

"So what will it be tonight, Walter?" Casey the bartender asked, placing a glass down between them on the bar. Skinner chuckled. Casey always asked the same question even though Skinner was a regular. It was just his way. 

"The usual, Casey." 

"Panther Piss?" the Irishman laughed turning for the bottle of top shelf bourbon at the back of the bar. 

"Bourbon, Casey, and make it a double," Skinner replied. 

Casey uncapped the bottle and poured some of the amber liquid into the glass. 

"Say when Mr. Skinner." 

Skinner let a double shot's worth slosh into the bottom of the glass. 

"When," he said when he was sure it was enough. 

Casey nodded and took the bottle away. He came back with a bar rag and started to wipe the dark wood a bit further down the bar. He worked his way back up towards Skinner. Skinner was his only customer tonight. It was late and he looked like shit.

"You want to talk about it, Walter?" Casey asked kindly. His eyebrows arched up slightly. 

Skinner looked up into his round face. Casey was such a stereotypical Irishman he thought. Jolly, fun, sympathetic, florid faced, blue eyed, red-haired, red-haired? OHSHIT!" 

"I don't think it would do much good, but I appreciate you asking, Casey." 

"The F*Bastard*I giving you a hard time?" he asked fishing. 

"Not exactly." 

Casey peered close. Oh yeah, NOT the Bureau, Nope. NOT work. 

"Ah, ha, a little female trouble is it Walter? Shit, sorry to hear that, my man." Casey knew about Skinner's ex-wife. Mother Macree when was this guy going to get lucky in love? Not any time soon it appears. 

Skinner barked a laugh, "Female trouble? Sounds like a damn John Waters film, Casey. But, yeah, you've pretty much hit the bullseye." Skinner took a first sip of his bourbon. The liquid fire slid down his throat. It was a fire that cooled his very soul. 

Casey chuckled, "Well, as long as it ain't Pink Flamingos you'll be doing all right. So, did she walk out on you, or did you walk out on her, or..." 

"I walked out, and not soon enough," Skinner replied sighing. 

Casey nodded, "She did you wrong?" 

"No, I did her more wrong than you could ever imagine, Casey. I came between her and the man she's really in love with and...oh shit. I've really screwed things up royally. It's a fucking fiasco of monumental proportions." 

"I'll be damned." 

"I should be, Casey. Or shot at dawn with my own FBI issue.

Oh, hell," Skinner cursed. He upended the glass of bourbon and sucked the rest of it down in one swig. 

"Pour me another one, Casey," Skinner said as he set the glass back down on the bar. 

"She must have been a hell of a woman," Casey observed, He glanced past Skinner, "I'll be with you in a second, buddy." he added. Another customer had come into the bar. He reached for the bottle of bourbon again. He uncapped it and began to refill Skinner's glass. He sat the bottle down next to them on the bar. Looked to be a long night. He made a mental note to call Skinner a cab later. 

"She IS one hell of a woman, Casey. She's brilliant AND beautiful. The whole God damned package," Skinner replied. 

"I just gotta ask you one thing, Walter. Brunette, blonde or red-head?" 

"Red-head," a voice came suddenly from directly behind Skinner's right shoulder. Walter's eyes squinted in consternation as Casey looked past him, a puzzled look on his face. 

"She's a FUCKING red head," the voice amended and then the man choked out a harsh, short laugh. 

OHSHIT," Skinner thought as he turned on the bar stool. "Oh bloody hell," he sighed inwardly. Fox Mulder. Drunk, breathing heavily and as mad as hell. 

"Hey, buddy, watch your mouth," Casey began. 

"Casey, it's all right, I know this guy, uh, why don't you go clean the other end of the bar," Skinner replied quietly. He didn't take his eyes off Mulder. Casey frowned looking from one man to the other. He shrugged his shoulders, and taking the bar rag walked to the opposite end of his domain. 

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing here...no strike that, I guess that's a given. How the devil did you find me?" 

"How? I work for the F*Blee*I for Christ slake," Mulder mumbled. He was drunk as a skunk. He must have been to every bar between Scully's apartment and Crystal City looking for Skinner. He smelled like he'd been bathing in beer at each stop as well. "Jesus. I hope he hasn't been driving around under the influence," Skinner thought dismally. 

"Mulder, you reek and you're wasted. Sit down before you fall down. Or maybe I should just call you a cab." 

"I just paid off the damned clab driver, Walter. I've been riding around half the night. I want to tttalk to you." 

Skinner wanted to talk to Mulder also, but he could see now was definitely not the right time. The guy's eyes were hardly focusing. If he could get some coffee into him it might help him to start sobering a little. 

"Mulder, sit down, I'll get you some coffee." 

"I don't want to sit down and I don't want ccccoffee from you, you, you cocksucker," he hissed angrily, "I want to ttttalk about...about...about Ssscully," he was stammering horribly and Skinner realized with resignation that he'd have to get him out of the bar before he either fell down or vomited his guts up. 

"Mulder, let me take you home. We can talk there. My car's outside," Skinner offered quietly. 

"Are you asking mlee to step outside?" Mulder replied, menace in his voice. 

"Oh, Right. Fuck this shit," Skinner thought in amazement. He glanced down at Mulder's hands. They were balled into fists. Skinner sighed again. 

"Come on, Mike Tyson, I'm taking you home," Skinner rose up off the stool and taking Mulder by the arm, steered him towards the bar's rear door. Skinner's car was parked in the back parking lot, off the alley. 

"Mike Tyson? I shlould bite your flucking ear off you bald- headed bastard," Mulder mumbled under his breath. 

Skinner shook his head and chose to remain silent as he dragged the rubber legged agent across the room. 

"Put it on my tab, Casey," he shouted as he pushed Mulder through the door and into the alley. 

As soon as he had Mulder outside, the younger man twisted in his grasp and tried to take a swing at him. 

"Mulder, for God's sake!" Skinner hissed as Mulder slid back and forth in some garbage beneath their feet. 

"Lemme Go, you prick! You shit. How could you have fucked her, you asshole? I...Jesus I love her, you didn't see I loved her? Scully didn't tell...no, of course not!" Mulder's speech was becoming more clear with every angry word he spit out. He was still twisting and trying to slap Skinner's hand off his arm. Skinner tightened his grip. 

"Mulder, shut up and listen," he tried again. No good. Mulder swung on him again and almost went down. 

"I won't shut up you muscle bound Judas! Why don't you kiss me on the cheek and betray me again? You wouldn't be the first asshole to do it. Mutherfuck - you'd have to stand in line." 

"You stupid son of a bitch..." Skinner hissed. 

"Stupid? Yeah, I'll say! How could I be any more stupid!" Mulder whined slapping his own head hard, "How could I think Dana would have mentioned a thing about us to you, Boss man. Not after that first time. Well, fuck her too. Jesus, she must have really wanted your cock, Walter...wanted your huge, hard... 

"OK, that's it..." Skinner thought as he spun Mulder around. 

"Fucking LET ME GO!" Mulder yelled suddenly as the older man lifted him up off the ground. 

Skinner felt anger boil from the bottom of his toes right up to the top of his head. His entire body flushed scarlet. He picked Mulder up and slammed him hard into the wall of the building. That shut him up Skinner thought. He held one hand across Mulder's chest and neck, griping his t-shirt in the process. His other hand yanked up hard on his belt in front. Mulder sagged under his hands as his jeans dragged up on his penis and balls. Skinner held the younger man still and then he stepped very close and looked him in the eyes. 

"Mulder I want to tell you something and I'm only going to say it once. I want you to focus your beer soaked brain and listen up. Are you listening you drunken little twit?" 

Mulder nodded his head, breathing hard. 

"What happened earlier tonight was MY fault. Dana Scully...Scully didn't have anything to do with it. Her body was there Mulder but I think her mind was somewhere else. All right? She doesn't love me. She fucked me. It was a mistake and I think she more than knows that now. She doesn't want me - she wants you. She's in love with you. She's yours Mulder, she's been yours for years, you jerk. For a brilliant agent and profiler you're one unobservant, sorry, son of a bitch, do you know that, Mr. X-File? I don't know how you missed the way she looks at you. *I* noticed it for Christ's sake. Let it go, boy. Go back to her apartment and...just go back to her, Mulder. She needs you. And you sure as hell need her." 

Skinner loosened and then released his grip on Mulder's t-shirt. He stepped back slightly and dropped his arms. Mulder's feet finally touched the ground. Skinner continued to stare into his eyes. There was still rage in their hazel depths. Skinner sagged under the weight of Mulder's condemnation. 

"Boy?" Mulder hissed. 

"It's a term of endearment," Skinner replied in exasperation. 

"Term of endearment? HA! So, you wanna fuck me too big man? I got a news flash baldy - you all ready have - you cocksucking.." 

Skinner gritted his teeth and stepped close again, "Shut the fuck up, Agent Mulder or I'll ram a fist up your ass right now." 

"Try it, asswipe, come on - try ta do me, I'd love it." 

"Mulder, come on..." 

"No, really! Put up, or shut up, Walter, I can take you. You're old, big and slow - it outta be easy." 

I can't stand this. I AM getting too old for this shit Skinner thought. 

"You'd really like to hit me wouldn't you?" he said, lowering his voice to a menacing growl. 

"Hit you? No! Actually, I'd like to rip your fat head off and shit down your neck." 

"You'd need Ex-Lax to do it, you constipated, turtle-assed geek," Skinner grated. 

"OK, let's go," Mulder shoved at Skinner's arms. Skinner raised his eyebrows and stood with his hands at his sides. 

"Humph, thought so. Vietnam vet huh? You cowardly piece of..." 

Skinner's lips tightened into a thin white line. He took a step back and slapped his stomach, once, with one hand. 

"Fine, Mulder, come on then. Take your best shot. Fire at will, you dick." He lowered his hands again and pinned Mulder's eyes. 

Mulder looked at Skinner owlishly for a split second and then his face twisted in a mixture of anger, sorrow, humiliation and yes, guilt. He cocked his fist back, stepped forward, and hit Skinner in the stomach with the full force of his rage. It was like connecting with the brick wall behind him. Skinner didn't budge. He didn't even flinch. Mulder rocked back on his heels from the force of the blow. He swung his hand up and down and then he stuck it under his armpit for a moment. 

"Feel better, Mulder?" Mulder's breath came in gasps but he was speechless. 

"NO? Well, come on then. Try again you motherfucker - try here - higher," Skinner suggested pointing towards his jaw. 

Mulder's eyelids blinked rapidly. He took his hand out from under his arm. Once again, he cocked his fist back. He brought it up hard into Skinner's jaw. 

Skinner's head twitched sideways. His glasses went askew and barely missed falling off. Skinner brought his head back around slowly and reaching up adjusted his glasses. He worked his jaw back and forth. There was a tiny bit of blood at the corner of mouth. He looked into Mulder's eyes. A phantom grin twitched his lips. 

"My turn," he said. 

Mulder's head snapped back with the force of Skinner's back handed blow to his cheek. It had been a love tap really. Nowhere near the amount of force Walter Skinner was capable of using. Skinner had been a Marine after all. They trained you to kill men with your bare hands in the Marines. 

Blood flew from Mulder's split lip and a cut on his face. The only thing that kept him from flopping into the alley's garbage at his feet was the fact that Skinner had a firm grip on one of his arms once again. 

"I'll kill you," Mulder hissed into Skinner's stricken, dark brown eyes. 

Skinner growled in his throat and lunged forward. He grabbed at Mulder's waist. He pulled the younger man's Smith and Wesson from the holster there. He rammed the gun into Mulder's hand and then stepping close pushed the weapon into his own stomach. He shoved his face into Mulder's nose. 

"Here you go Mulder. Go ahead. Pull the fucking trigger. Kill me. Put us both out of our misery." He rested one hand on the gun. He brought his other hand up and gently touched the side of Mulder's neck. It was a very intimate gesture, almost a caress. Skinner stood very still his hand resting against Mulder's neck and face. His breath came in steady, hard and deep gasps. To his embarrassment tears welled up in his eyes. Let them come he thought. They ran down his cheeks. 

"Mulder, pull the damn trigger - you'd be doing me a favor." he whispered. 

Fox Mulder looked into Walter Skinner's face. The tears shocked him more than the gun he held to Skinner's guts. The enormity of his actions and their consequences came rushing at him like a runaway freight train. He felt all the disgust, horror and self-loathing overwhelm him. And a new emotion - betrayal. Not Skinner's betrayal. His own betrayal of the friend standing before him and the woman he loved who had always stood at his side. Mulder felt his knees weaken. He released the gun and began to sag under Skinner's gentle grasp. Skinner let him fall slowly to his knees into the pile of garbage in the alley. Mulder rocked back and sat down. Skinner was no longer touching him. 

"OhGod," Mulder moaned, putting his head down in shame. He gagged slightly and covered his head with his hands. 

Mulder began to cry then and Skinner was wiping his own tears away. He placed Mulder's gun down carefully next to him as the agent moved his arms to further cover his head. 

"I'm...Jesus, I'm so sorry, sir. Please, I...Please...." Mulder pleaded. 

Skinner stepped forward and touched Mulder's hair gently. 

"Fox, it's all right...I understand more than you could ever know, believe me. Forget it. Get out of here. Go to Scully. Go home to Dana, Fox." Skinner sighed and turning on his heel left Mulder to bend over and vomit onto the filthy stones in the alley behind Casey's bar. 

The very act of cleaning up broken crockery, coffee and beer stains had gone a long way towards calming Dana Scully down. "It's just lucky I keep Resolve in stock," she thought ruefully as she wiped at the last of the stains, "Or maybe I should buy stock IN Resolve," she amended with a tight smile. "With as much as Mulder was always showing up injured and bleeding on her rugs..." 

"Mulder!" she thought. Damn. She was infinitely sad at what had transpired between them earlier. Sad, and guilty and disgusted. Both of them had acted like fools. She sighed. She hoped the damage wasn't beyond repair. She knew she'd like to do some repair work and have it stick. 

Scully realized without a shadow of a doubt now that she loved Fox Mulder. Their fight had only reinforced that knowledge. She felt like she was dying inside. If it hurt this much it had to be love. It couldn't be anything less. She smiled slightly. Yup, hopelessly in love and not afraid to admit it any longer. Too bad in took the end of their not even blossoming relationship to get her to admit it. 

Scully felt close to tears again. No, I won't go there. No more self-pity. This is time for action. She took the remains of the coffee mug, her rag and the trusty bottle of Resolve into the kitchen. She came back out into the living room and picking up her phone dialed Fox Mulder's cell phone number. 

Skinner had gone back into Casey's bar and phoned a cab. He realized he was in no shape to drive either. The cab was due in 10 minutes. He went over to the bar. 

"Look, Casey. I'm going to take a cab home. Can you take my keys and baby-sit the Vette for me?" 

"Your '61 Chevy? Hey, Walter, I don't..." 

"No, listen, man, I trust you. Just keep an eye on her for me tonight. I'll be back to get her in the morning." 

"All right Walter. I'll sleep in the car if I have too." 

"Thanks buddy," Skinner sighed. 

"Oh, and by the way, there's a guy sitting out in your alley puking his guts up." 

"The guy you walked out there?" 

Skinner grinned ruefully, "Yeah, uh, he's one of my agents actually. His name is Fox Mulder. He's had a bad day, Casey. A hell of a lot worse then mine. Can you see he gets a cab home. Here, this should cover it," Skinner said handing Casey some bills from his wallet. 

Skinner began to walk away so he could get out front and wait for the cab he'd called for himself to pull up. 

"Will do, Walter. Good night," Casey called after his receding back, "and Walter..." 

"Yeah, Casey?" 

"What the fuck does John Waters know anyway," the Irishman chortled. 

Skinner laughed as he pushed through the bar's front door and went out into the night. 

Dana Scully punched in Mulder's apartment phone number again for the third time. He hadn't answered his cell phone and after the second try on it Scully had resorted to trying to reach him at his apartment. Now she was getting frightened. Visions of her earlier nightmare regarding Mulder and his gun ran through her head. She listened as his home phone rang. His answering machine came on again. 

"This is Fox Mulder, leave a message after the beep." 

This time Scully decided to leave a message, "Mulder, if you're there pick up. Oh LORD. Please be there." There was no answer. 

"All right. I guess it's my turn to leave a message when I'd really like to be talking to you face to face. Mulder, I'm sorry, OHGOD. Please, just come back here as soon as you can. We can talk. I..I never meant to...I know you didn't...Oh hell, just come back as soon as you hear this. I don't want something to be over between us before it ever had a chance to start. I love you, Mulder." 

She didn't know what else to say so she let the receiver fall gently into it's cradle. She shook her head and picked it up again. She re-dialed his cell phone number. She suddenly heard a distant ringing. Christ, he must be calling me on MY cell she thought. She looked around the room to ascertain it's location. But just as she thought to look for it, Mulder's voice came over the telephone receiver. 

"Mudler..." he slurred, "I mean Mulder..." 

"Mulder, MY GOD, where are you? Oh Lord, I'm so sorry! Oh Fox, I've been so worried, I love you. I want to talk...how soon can you get here?" Her words spilled out in a rush, "Please, can you come back..." 

There was a tiny self-depreciating chuckle on the other end of the line, "Uh, yeah, that should be easy, Scully. I'm standing outside your apartment door." 

Scully dropped the receiver and dashed to her front door. She threw it open. She took one look and stopped dead. 

"MotherMary!" she whispered. Mulder stood on her doorstep, his cell phone in his hand. He was covered in stinking garbage, vomit and blood. Tears were still leaking from his eyes and despite his bravado at chuckling earlier his lower lip was trembling. 

"Scully...I...I..." he stammered. 

"Mulder, what in God's name happened to you?" Scully asked gently. Her face softened and she let all the love she felt for Mulder show in her eyes. Mulder began to cry in earnest then. 

"Scully, Skinner sent me home..." was all he could choke out before he completely lost it all. 

"Oh Mulder, Oh Lord, let me help. Come in here. Let me make it better..." Scully whispered. And ignoring the garbage, the vomit, and the blood she took Fox Mulder into her embrace. 

Walter Skinner took a cab but he hadn't taken it home. He'd asked the driver to let him off about 2 blocks from his apartment. Now, he was standing in front of the upscale *yuppie-puppie* micro brewery/bar that had just opened right near his front door. It wasn't his favorite watering hole. It wasn't Casey's bar. The place would never come close. But it had booze and that's all that mattered right now. It also had late hours and was crowded to boot. 

Good. The perfect place to get stinking drunk. THE spot to get lost in the crush of humanity and still be able to get home without driving. Thank you God, Skinner prayed as he walked through the trendy, etched glass entrance. 

"Pour me another," Skinner barked, setting his glass down on the bar. He was well on his way to *waste city* and he felt just wonderful. All thoughts of Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, the FBI and even Vietnam receded under the influence of his fourth bourbon. He tested his leg on the barstool. Yup, it was still steady. He could still walk home. Time for one last drink and then he'd head for bed. 

"OK, buddy, but this is your last one. You're shit-faced and I don't want to be responsible." 

"Fine, pour the fucking drink, and don't worry - I live two blocks away," Skinner growled dangerously. 

"That's what they all say, bubba," the bartender mumbled under his breath as he went for the bottle of bourbon. 

The crowd had thinned a bit but there were still enough people milling around to make him feel anonymous. He grinned bitterly. As anonymous as a sweaty, bald headed, garbage and blood stained Assistant Director of the FBI could be in a yuppie bar. It was only after he'd flashed his fucking ID that the bartender had even deigned to serve him. No one wanted to sit next to him at the bar. It was just as well. He didn't really want any company. 

"Mr. Skinner? Walter Skinner?" a quiet voice came from close behind him. "Oh Shit, what now?" Skinner sighed shifting around to see who was about to breach the peace on him again that night. 

A stunning blonde stood behind him. The woman smiled sympathetically into his eyes after she first looked him up and down. Skinner recognized her instantly as she moved to put her glass of wine down next to him on the bar. 

"You look like you could use someone to talk to, Assistant Director Skinner," she prompted gently. "Mind if I sit down?" 

"It's a free country, Ms. Covarrubias. Be my guest..." he answered indicating the barstool next to him with a nod of his head. 

--- To be continued...and you won't have to go to the movie theater to find out what happens next. Just hang on - and watch this space. I'm typing as fast as I can. --frogdoggie

And oh yes, even though she's a loose cannon:

DISCLAIMER #2: Marita Covarrubias belongs to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from her use either.
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