Loveland Series 1: You Don't Know Me

by Jennie

Pairing: Mulder/Skinner

Rating: PG for language

Disclaimer: The boys aren't mine ::sob::

Spoilers: Existence is referred to by way of William & Alex

Notes: Written for the X-Files Lyric Wheel. Thanks to Pollyanna for the lyrics and to Sue and Teri for the terrific beta jobs.

Summary: Scully kicks Mulder out. Guess where he goes...

Love Land 1: You Don't Know Me
by by Jennie

Why the FUCK is he at my door?

My first instinct is to gruffly send him on his way, but the pain in his expression - and the hope that I'll actually be able to help him - make me sigh in resignation and open the door. "C'mon in, Mulder."

The relief on his face is almost scary. I've worked long and hard to put my feelings for him into a well-hidden compartment of my brain - almost have myself convinced that I can get past this... this crush, or infatuation, or whatever the fuck I feel for him. And here he is - yet again. Apparently hoping that I can fix his current problem.

He walks over and sits on my couch, the very picture of confusion and misery. A silent picture.

Great. I'll have to pull the problem out of him word by word - I recognize the signs all too well.

"You want a drink?" I ask.

He nods. "Whatever you're having is fine."

"I'm drinking Scotch, Mulder," I inform him. "Not quite your style is it? I have beer in the fridge. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer that?"

"Nope - thanks - Scotch, please."

Whatever it is, it's bad. In all the years I've known him, Mulder has never been much of a drinker. And I've NEVER seen him drink anything stronger than a beer.

Once I return to the living room from the kitchen, I hand him his drink and settle in a chair. I wait for him to get a little liquid courage into his system before tackling the problem he's brought to me. And, truth to tell, I need a little time, myself. Helping Mulder face his demons is both the joy and the bane of my life.

Figuring that he's about as ready as he's likely to get and knowing that I have to start SOMEWHERE, I opt for the simple and direct approach. "Tell me, Mulder."

All that gets me is a fleeting glance from obscenely pretty eyes and more silence. Okay, a guessing game, then. "How are your future plans coming?" I inquire. "Have you any idea what you're going to do next?"

He shrugs.

Hmmm.

"How's William?"

"Fine." Well, at least it's a word. Delivered in a strangely hopeless tone. I think I'm headed in the right direction here.

"And Scully?"

Ah ha! He sets his drink on the coffee table, gets to his feet and starts pacing the room in an agitated fashion. Watching him, I find myself growing afraid. What if she's-

"She isn't ill again, is she? I mean, no complications from the pregnancy?"

"No," he finally answers in a low tone. "She's fine." Pausing as he passes the balcony door, he stops to stare out at the city lights through the glass. "She, uh... FUCK!"

Damn! Whatever it is, it's worse that I thought - Mulder does not make a habit of cursing. Not in my presence at any rate.

"Mulder," I say quietly but firmly, "just tell me. Get it out - then maybe we can talk."

After several moments of tense silence, he spins around suddenly, pinning me with a confused, angry and very hurt expression. "She's apparently decided that we're not meant to be together. Not as lovers, anyway." He walks over and sits at the other end of the sofa - well, actually he perches there - ready to jump up and start his damned pacing again.

And I - well, hell, I don't know what to say. I'm so afraid of allowing my own feelings for him slip out that I take refuge in my drink. If I'm swallowing Scotch, he can't expect me to respond - can he?

But - damn, he's looking at me with such an expectant expression. What the hell ever made him think I had any answers? He's seen all too well how I've fucked up my own life - most especially my marriage. And now he expects ME to help? Shit.

Removing my glasses, I rub wearily at my eyes. "I don't know what to tell you... we both know that relationships aren't my forte. I'm perfectly happy to listen to you, discuss it - but, Mulder, PLEASE don't expect me to have any easy answers for you."

He suddenly decides to talk and now his words come in a rush. "I... I don't have anywhere to stay, Skinner. Gave up my apartment when I moved in with Scully - and, somehow, a motel seems so... so lonely." He drops his head into his hands and the next burst of words is muffled. "I don't want to be alone right now. The idea scares me - I can't stop thinking. About what a failure I am - Jesus, I can't even manage a relationship with someone who's been my closest friend for eight years; she's the mother of my child, for chrissakes. What's wrong with me, Skinner? I can't figure out why I keep failing."

"Okay," I find myself saying. "Tonight, we'll talk - and, Mulder, you'll stay here for now. I have an extra bedroom upstairs."

And there you go. Walter Skinner, idiot. Not satisfied to play agony aunt and solve his romantic problems, I've all but ordered him to move in with me. Early onset of Alzheimer's? Dementia? Or, god forbid, hormones?

I rise to head into the kitchen and mix us each another drink. I pause halfway across the living room. "Listen, Mulder... you're not working for me any longer. Think you could manage to call me 'Walt' instead of Skinner or," I grimace, "sir?"

"I - uh, sure, Walt." He says my name slowly, testing the sound and his comfort level with the change. "I think I can do that - as long as," he grins, "you don't call me 'Fox'. I really do hate that name, y'know."

"Deal," I tell him with a grin of my own before leaving the room.

When I return, he's a little more relaxed. I have no idea whether it's the liquor or my offer of a refuge, but I'm not going to worry about that right now. Settled once again on the couch, I put both drinks on the coffee table and turn so that I can meet his eyes. "Okay, Mulder, tell me what happened."

"Jesus, Walt - you don't waste any time, do you?"

I raise one brow at him. "You'd prefer to discuss basketball - or soccer? Big time wrestling, perhaps?" His expression tells, me clearly that while he DOES want to unload on me, he's still a little hesitant. Not that I can blame him - I've never faced a situation like this one. Dealing with him as a subordinate was one thing - irritating, confusing and downright mind-bending at times - but I haven't a clue as to how to deal with him as a friend.

And then there are my feelings for him. Feelings I've kept under tight wraps - this... this is NOT going to be easy. Hiding my rather embarrassing fascination with him, my almost overwhelming need to touch him, to offer physical comfort, is going to be... Shit, it'll be the best performance of my life, hiding those feelings.

Particularly from this man. He sees too much - always has, in my experience.

In the feeble hope that alcohol will dull his uncanny perception, I make sure that his glass is never empty. And, as time passes, he's starting to loosen up; I can see it in his body language. We don't talk much; I simply keep plying him with liquor and wait.

After several false starts, he finally starts to talk - good thing, too, the Scotch bottle is getting near to empty. On the other hand, I realize, as he gains steam, there's probably not enough Scotch in the world to make this easier for me to hear. I wonder if I'll suffer too horribly tomorrow if I switch to something else - the liquor cabinet holds vodka, whiskey, and rum. And there's beer in the fridge.

I decide against that idea - god only knows what might get revealed if I drink any more. So, I settle back into the comfortable sofa and just listen as he pours his hurt, his confusion, his insecurities all over me.

"I was so sure that it was right for us to move on ... to become lovers, best friends we already were, but, I thought we both wanted more. And," he continues, "we have William - he's my son. MY son. Our son. But, right from the beginning, I had this feeling that she was doing it for me - and waiting for me to realize, as she obviously did, that we didn't belong together. I suppose," he pauses for a moment and clears his throat, "I suppose I wanted it to be, because I want a family... security. And, she makes me feel safe."

While I can well understand, I can't help but wonder if he hears and comprehends his own words. Not a single one of his reasons for wanting this relationship with Scully even remotely resembles that desperate love and longing to spend their lives together that most couples feel.

I should know. If that overwhelming NEED to spend your life with another doesn't exist - if the love - and the spark of passion aren't there... well, it'll only cause pain in the long run. Not to mention boredom and the eventual loss of the friendship and respect that was once so important to both of you.

"Mulder," I finally say, "I can't help but notice that not once did you mention loving Scully in a romantic way. Yes, you've been partners for many years, learned to count on and trust each other. And, you DO love each other... as friends." I sigh and roll my tense shoulders. "Now you have William. But, Mulder, think about it - does he really deserve to grow up in a home where his parents aren't in love? Romantically, I mean. Do you really want to jeopardize your relationship with Scully? The friendship and respect you have for each other? Because sooner or later, you'll grow apart - start to resent each other." I turn to meet his eyes. "Believe me, Mulder, it WILL happen - take it from one who knows."

His expression tells me that he's hesitant to ask, but, after a deep breath, he gathers his courage. "You mean... you and Sharon were never in - shit, never mind - not my business."

I sigh. "Sharon was my best friend - and I loved her as such. But, she WAS in love with me - and that made it even harder, more painful for her. Eventually, she grew bitter - withdrew. And, well, you know what happened in the end."

"Did you... ah, did you cheat on her? Fall for someone else?"

Uh oh - we're hitting very treacherous ground here. But, I can tell him nothing but the truth. "No, Mulder, I never 'cheated' on her. Not that the temptations weren't there... but, no, I never did - unless you count that unfortunate thing with the - " I break off, avert my eyes away from that sharp gaze of his. "Well, you know all about that, don't you?"

He nods and clears his throat. "Yeah, I do. You are one bull-headed SOB."

"Part of my charm, I guess," I joke feebly.

He snorts.

"Sooo," he continues, apparently deciding that he likes poking around in my private life, "you didn't answer my other question - DID you fall for someone else?"

Fuck all. I should've known. Mulder's a damned bulldog when after information.

After drinking the last of my Scotch - Dutch courage - I shake my head. "Yeah, Mulder - I did fall for someone - still have... strong feelings for him."

"Him?"

This time I'm the one to rise and pace around the room. How to say this? How much do I reveal here? Eventually, I stop and stare through the glass doors, keeping my back to him. Safer that way - god knows he'd probably see how I feel towards him.

"Yeah, Mulder," I say quietly, watching his reflection. "HIM."

Silently, he sits on the couch.

Not good. A silent Mulder is a dangerous Mulder.

"Do I know this person?"

I shrug. "Yes." I answer simply. "You do."

More silence. "Walt... jesus, Walt, PLEASE tell me it's not Krycek."

I laugh. Can't help myself. Turning back to face him, I raise my brows. "C'mon, Mulder, you can't really think that I could ever fall for that bastard. I'm gay, not crazy."

"Uh, I see," he says, looking anywhere but at me. And, he's blushing.

What the hell?

"Mulder, what made you ask me that? I mean, of all the guys we know, why Krycek?"

"He, um, Krycek, I mean... he made a pass at me once," Mulder informs me in a very quiet tone. "When I said no, he - well, he accused me of being your lover. Sounded pretty jealous, too. So I thought that maybe you and he - "

"You think too much, Mulder," I say wearily. "Have I ever mentioned that to you?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "Sorry, si - um, Walt. I didn't mean to pry. Well, no more than I usually do. It just seemed... well, look, he was certainly attractive - you have to admit that."

"Okay, I'll give you that, he was a good-looking man. But, Christ, Mulder - even if I HAD been interested in him, he was my subordinate, then my enemy. I make it a policy to never fuck around with either - and, in case you've forgotten, I killed him. I'm not a fucking black widow. I don't kill my lovers."

"Oh." He takes another sip of his drink, glancing at me from the corner of one eye. "So, I don't suppose you're going to tell me who this person you fell for is?"

"No." I shake my head. "There's no reason to even discuss the matter. He has no idea how I feel about him, he's straight, and he's my friend. It wouldn't be worth the probable repercussions if I ever told him."

"So, this guy works for you?" That's my Mulder - always in search of some truth or another. Unfortunately, this is one truth I'm not willing to share.

"Mulder," I deliberately use my AD voice in an attempt to quell his curiosity. "We're not here to discuss my love life, or lack thereof - The topic here is you and Scully."

He gets the strangest expression on his face. I can't even begin to imagine what he's thinking. Whatever it is, though, I strongly suspect that I don't want to hear it.

"The thing is," he says, "Scully knows that I'm bisexual and I think that's a large part of her reason for not believing that we could make a go of it together. She said," he pauses, clears his throat and stares at the blank television screen. "She said that my um, preferences would eventually make me resent her... that I'd want to, you know, see men. Which would make me feel guilty, then angry."

Okay, he's done it - finally managed to shock me into speechlessness. He's Bi? And Scully knows? But he's never, to my knowledge, been involved with a man. At least not since I've known him. And now, NOW the bastard tells me? After I've invited him to stay here with me?

I am so fucked it's not even remotely funny.

Lifting my glass, I'm more than a little dismayed to find that it's empty. I briefly consider another drink, then my eyes fall on him.

And he's looking at me hopefully.

Pitifully.

Mournfully.

No. N. O. This is NOT going to happen. I refuse to take this man into my bed - not when he's only looking for comfort. Ain't gonna happen. My feelings for him are far too strong - I'd never be able to hide the truth from him if we...

Nope. Strategic retreat is the order of the day - er, night. "Mulder, I'm tired. In fact, I'm exhausted. The guest bedroom is the second door on the right upstairs. I'm going to sleep now, you make yourself at home. Eat, watch TV, whatever you want."

With a shrug, he rises and walks to the stairs. "I'm tired, too, Walt. Think I'll try to get some sleep myself."

In silence, I turn off the lights and we walk upstairs together. After I hand him a fresh set of towels and point out the guest bathroom, I bid him a rather brisk good night and take refuge in my room.

Not bothering to undress beyond removing my shoes, I lie on top of the covers and try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do now. He won't let it drop, not Mulder, he'll keep after me and after me until I break down and tell him how I feel.

Jesus-fucking-christ.

Why ME?

link to next chapter follows...

You Don't Know Me
Ray Charles
(C. Walker/E. Arnold), Unichappell Music, BMI

You give your hand to me
And then you say hello
I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me

Oh you don't know the one
That thinks of you at night
Who longs to kiss your lips
And yearns to squeeze you tight
No I'm just a friend
That's all I've ever been
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love
Though my heart aches with love for you
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
You'll never, never know
The one who loves you so
You just don't know me

I never knew the art of making love
Though my heart aches with love for you
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by
The chance that you might love me too

You give your hand to me
And then you say goodbye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
Who'll never, never know
The one who loves you so
You just don't know me

You'll never, ever know
mmmm, cause you just don't know me

END