Title: A Matter of Choice
Author: Drmchaser (Lia)
Email: aerltec@aol.com
Rating: NC-17
Category: Skinner/Scully
Keywords: Post-EP SR819
Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Chris Carter, 1013 Productions, and Fox. Just borrowed them for this little bit of fluff, no infringement intended.
Time Frame: Two days after the final scene in SR819.
Feedback: Welcome (aerltec@aol.com). This is my first attempt at a Sk/Sc fanfic and it has taken me months to work up the courage to post. The level of intelligence and quality of writing found on this site is out of my league, but I'm hoping that my enthusiasm for this romantic couple will make up for some of my shortcomings. **

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A Matter Of Choice

by: Drmchaser

Walter Skinner looked up from the report he was reading and stared unseeing across the room. One hand lifted the wire rimmed glasses from the bridge of his nose and placed them gently on the desk in front of him. The other swept over his tired eyes.

As Assistant Director, he was hard pressed to understand his
dissatisfaction with the report he had just finished reading. Obviously written by Agent Jeffrey Spender, it was factual, concise, and technically perfect. Its contents were a sharp contrast to some of the more startling reports submitted by Agents Mulder and Scully during their five year tenure on the 
X-files. Spender's constant dismissal of any paranormal findings should be looked on as a blessing. Instead, it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Maybe it was time to admit that it wasn't just the report that was bothering him. The cold hard truth of the matter was much more brutal and dark. Years of hard work, dedication to a system he had always believed in, and loyalty to the men in charge of that system could no longer save him. His ultimate fate - his very existence, was no longer secure in his own hands. Joining the Marines and then the FBI had been proof of his willingness to sacrifice for his country, and he had made these decisions by his own free choice Not so this latest development. He had been turned into a walking dead man waiting for the final cards
to be dealt.

Was this what Scully had gone through when her cancer was first
diagnosed? Scully… his heart still burned with the memory of her shocked expression just two nights earlier. The inevitable debriefing had taken place in this very same office. The back log of work on his desk had provided him the perfect excuse to avoid her and her partner for days, but on Wednesday his luck had run out. Returning to his office after a quick dinner in the restaurant across the street, he spotted the two of them as they talked quietly in the hallway outside of his office. They had not even been aware of his presence until he walked past them to his door.

"Agents," his greeting was curt and business-like. They jumped apart at the sound of his voice.

"Sir," Mulder said quickly, "We were hoping to have a word with you."

The Assistant Director nodded at the slim, dark-haired agent. He spoke with tired reluctance, "Right now is a good a time as any."

Mulder had perked up immediately, ushering Scully into the office ahead of him.

Skinner watched them take their seats, resting his dark, implacable gaze on the tired redhead. Despite his own mounting problems, he was worried about her. She had shouldered enough grief during the last two years to fill a lifetime, hence, his refusal to hand her any more. How many more blows could a sane person take without falling apart? Whatever he thought passed between them in hospital, it could never be explored. Her hands and her heart were undeniably filled with Mulder.

The weight of Mulder's gaze prompted him to finally snap, "What is this about, Mulder? I can give you five minutes. I have a lot of work to catch up on."

The meeting that followed was quick and to the point. Mulder had offered a surprising list of discoveries, including photographs of their long-haired mystery man and the news that S.R. 819 had been withdrawn by committee. Scully had spoken compassionately as she relayed the results of her consultation with his doctors.

Skinner glanced down at the photographs Mulder was pushing across his desk. At this point, he knew the meeting had gone on long enough. The necessary words crossed over his lips with as much detachment and conviction as possible. His refusal to authorize further investigation and the cold reminder that they were still working under the direct supervision of AD Kersh was met with stunned surprise. The tension in the room mounted as he dropped his final bombshell. The case was officially closed. It wasn't too difficult too feign disgust at Mulder's conviction that the events were somehow related to the X-files. Widening
blue eyes, brimming with pain, had silently cursed his betrayal. By the time they walked out of his office, he had almost been convinced by his own performance. Krycek's appearance in his car a short time later brought reality crashing back.

Old-fashioned guilt continued to weigh him down despite his certainty that what he had done was for the best. Mulder and Scully would now assume that his death bed confession had been just that, the rattling regrets of man preparing to meet his maker, but he knew better. Coming to terms with his impending death that night in the hospital had given him the freedom to open up and try to make use of his final moments. What he expressed to Scully had been more than just idle regrets. He
wanted her, of all people, to understand. To know that he believed in the validity of her work with Mulder. He had tried to help them the best way he knew how, but looking back, it no longer seemed like enough. Scully had reached out to him that night, trying to ease the conscience of a dying man. Taking his hand in hers, she had reminded him of all the times that he had been able to help - letting him know that his efforts on their behalf and his life had not been in vain. Two tired spirits had
searched for solace in that hospital room, and amidst all the chaos and confusion, two very private, very human souls discovered a much more personal cause for regret.

That tenuous hold, that intimate insight, had been destroyed in the meeting on Wednesday night. It was a sad commentary on his life that neither agent cared enough to question his actions. In fact, there had been no contact with either Mulder or Scully in almost forty-eight hours. Whatever dead end assignment Kersh had thrown their way was keeping them out in the field.

So here he sat on a late Friday evening, restless and dissatisfied. Uncomfortable emotions for a man who had once carefully structured every hour of his demanding life. Leaning back in his chair, he gave up any pretense of work and let his guard down for a moment. Maybe he should have taken them into his confidence... but to what purpose? No one on earth was more tenacious than Mulder when the bright light of righteous
battle flared in his eyes. There was no point in putting both agents in danger until Krycek made his intentions known. Both Mulder and Scully had lost too much to the treasonous bastard already, and he was not about to deliver them into the rat's control. Alex had become an expert at using their emotional responses for his own benefit.

It would be far wiser to try and handle the situation himself. It was a strategy that had served him well for decades, and should he fail, at least he would fail alone. Solemn brown eyes searched out the corners of his large office. There was nothing personal here. Nothing to show for the sixteen hours a day spent at his desk or locked in meetings. There was no one left to mourn for him. No wife. No children. His glance rested on the photographs of the President and the Attorney General. The
austerity of the room had never bothered him. He had allowed himself to be defined by his position, but if he ever did choose to personalize the place, where would he even begin? What would he display to express the true passions in his life?

Cruel fate brought with it a wealth of forbidden thoughts, impossible to put into words. How does one begin to describe the longing for a simple glance that can come only from one other human being on this earth? Something deep inside of his gut burned with the desire to have her see him for who he was. Not as an Assistant Director of the FBI or an ally to be called upon when she and partner needed help, but just as a man. A man who couldn't help but be in awe of her intelligence and strength,
appreciative of her honesty and wit, and yet often rendered speechless by her beauty. God help him, any search for a late night release needed no more than the thought of those amazing blue eyes watching his every move.

Strong fingers pressed against the side of his temple, trying to rub away the budding headache. He was way over the line with these thoughts, and well aware of his own folly. Fortunately, he was far too wise to ever approach her with them. Years in the military had had taught him the advantages of classifying information. She would certainly never guess his wayward thoughts on her own. Dana Scully's affections belonged right where they were - directed at her partner of five years, Fox
Mulder. There was a connection between those two that was undeniable.

And who could blame her? Agent Mulder was an intelligent, good looking, healthy man. Speculation about the duo had circulated around the building for years, but he had never bothered to confront them or inquire about the veracity of the gossip. There were no written guidelines in the FBI manual forbidding personal relationships between partners or co-workers. The only expressly forbidden personal relationships were those between any employees, no matter what rank, and their superiors.

A short rap on the door went unheard. Kim, his executive assistant, stuck her head inside the office. "Do you need anything else before I go?" She frowned after spotting the brooding look on his face. "Sir?"

Skinner looked up into the kind eyes of his concerned assistant. He hadn't heard her question, but answered her instinctively, "I'm fine. Thanks, Kim." Offering her a tired smile, he picked up his glasses and set them back in place. "Have a nice weekend."

"You, too, Sir." Closing the office door, Kim sighed. Whatever had been bothering her boss lately, showed no signs of being resolved.

"Kim?"

Taken by surprise, Kim tried to keep a blank look on her face. "Agent Mulder, can I help you?"

"Is he still in?"

"Yes. I'll let him know you're here." Kim reached for the phone, but Mulder walked right past her and entered the AD's private domain without knocking.

Annoyed, Kim followed him in. "I'm sorry, Sir. Agent Mulder wouldn't wait."

"I need to speak to you," Mulder interrupted as he approached the large desk. The look in his eye was defiant.

Skinner sighed and settled his chair back into an upright position. "It's okay, Kim. You can go." His assistant threw Mulder one last annoyed glance before leaving. Once the door was closed behind her, Skinner indicated a chair for Mulder to sit in.

"What is it, Agent Mulder?" It was a question that had been asked a hundred times before, but never with as much reluctance as it was right now.

"You owe me an explanation, Sir." Mulder met his former boss' glance head on without wavering. Skinner was the first to look away, focusing his attention back on the report in his hands.

"An explanation for what, Mulder?" The cool impersonal tone left little doubt about Skinner's unhappiness with the topic of conversation.

"We've been down this road before, Sir. You know what I'm talking about, so I won't bore you with the details. I dropped that previous matter because you asked me to and because I know it was very personal and painful for you."

"I appreciate that fact, Agent Mulder. I believe I told you so at the time."

"But not this time, Sir. There is too much at stake."

Skinner finally looked back up in annoyance. "At stake for who?" he asked sharply. "For you and the X-files? They aren't yours anymore, Mulder. Let it go."

"I can't. Not this time."

Shaking his head at the man's stubbornness, Skinner quietly insisted, "You don't have a choice."

"You owe us."

Skinner stood up and turned to face the window, searching for the right words. Stiff shoulders and a ramrod straight spine belied the uncertainty coursing through his veins. Outside, the night sky was dark and forbidding, refusing to give him the guidance he so desperately needed. Drawing a deep breath he spoke without turning around. "Is that what this is all about?" he asked harshly. "What I owe you? Maybe you should check your scorecard again."

"Sir?"

"It's been a long five years, Agent Mulder, but I'll limit my list to the highlights. By my account, I've been beaten, shot, framed for a murder I didn't commit, and officially reprimanded by the director of the FBI." He paused, knowing that both he and Mulder were thinking about the one incident that he dare not mention out loud. "What more do you want from me?" he asked roughly.

Mulder answered quietly , "Agent Scully filled me in on your
conversation with her in the hospital."

"I thought I was dying," Skinner stated matter-of-factly. Pain flickered unseen in dark eyes.

Mulder, always an astute observer of body language, picked up on the changes in the AD's stance. "Are you telling me that you didn't mean what you said?"

"People say a lot of things when faced with their own mortality."

"I know you better than that, Sir."

"Let it go, Mulder." The desperate plea was the first noticeable crack in the stony facade.

"If this were just about me, I might be able to do that."

Skinner turned to look at the dark-haired agent. "Does it always come back to this quest of yours, Mulder? Does everything that happens have to be viewed through the eyes of your work?"

"This is not about a quest. This is about Scully." Mulder took
satisfaction in the jolt of surprise that passed over Skinner's face. The Assistant Director was a powerful man, both in position and physical strength, and Mulder knew that he, himself, had come to rely on that strength, even borrow from it when necessary over the last few years. The relationship between them hadn't always been a easy, but it was one born of respect and hard won trust. He hadn't hesitated to refer to this man as 'friend' when confronting Senator Matheson. 

"Explain yourself," Skinner demanded sharply, dropping his tired frame back down into his chair. He loosened the knotted silk at his neck, trying to hide the slight tremble in his hands. The lingering effects of his recent illness were surely to blame.

The clipped words and impatient tone didn't phase Mulder.. In typical fashion, he and Scully had ignored Skinners orders and continued their unofficial investigation into the poisoning. The long-haired man in the surveillance photographs had been identified quickly. Holmes had his Moriarty, and it seemed that he, Mulder, had Krycek. The last forty-eight hours had been spent doing grunt work for Kersh by day, and searching for answers to this latest complication by night.

It was during one of these late night excursions with Scully that his long-held suspicions had been confirmed. The main topic of conversation of conversation had been Skinner's apparent change of heart regarding his involvement with their work. While Skinner's attitude had been a blow to both of them, it was obvious that Scully's hurt went deeper. He could see it in her eyes - her interest in the man had become more personal. Concern for both Skinner and Scully had prompted him to drop in unexpectedly tonight.

"Agent Mulder?" Skinner was still waiting for Mulder to speak, wondering if the thunderous heartbeat echoing in his own ears could be heard across the wide expanse of desk. "Is there something wrong with Agent Scully?"

Mulder arched an eyebrow, unconsciously chewing on a phantom sunflower seed. Could that possibly be vulnerability in the AD's expression? No, not likely. Vulnerability was not a word associated with the man in front of him right now. "Physically she is fine, Sir." He swallowed a grin as Skinner returned to defcon one. "To put it bluntly, she feels betrayed."

Skinner glanced away quickly, before Mulder could read his expression. Dark eyes swept across the room. It would be safe to assume that his office was bugged. Probably by more than one interested party. Why wasn't Mulder taking this into consideration?

"I can't help you, Mulder."

"I'm not asking for help, Sir."

"I don't understand, Agent Mulder." Skinner's eyes narrowed in
suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner?"

"There is a little Japanese restaurant across town that serves a
wonderful swordfish. How about it?"

Surprised, Skinner watched Mulder closely. One message was coming across loud and clear. The younger agent was offering him the opportunity to explain himself. To make amends. Dare he take him up on it? To involve Mulder and Scully could mean endangering all three of their lives for what still felt like selfish reasons.

"Sir?" Mulder stood up expectantly. Although he had originally been confused by Skinner's dismissal the other evening, he was sticking by his instinctive refusal to believe the worst about Walter Skinner. Everyone reacted to life threatening situations and stress differently, but the basic character of a person remained constant. There had been no need for Skinner to remind him of all he had done for them. There were very few men or women in the world that Mulder considered trustworthy, and Skinner was one of them. The man had put himself on the line for
them one too many times for Mulder to take recent events at face value.

Skinner stood up and slipped into his jacket. The decision was made - God help them all.

~*~*~*~*~

Dana Scully stepped out of the white, claw-footed tub, fragrant bath water dripping onto the floor as she reached for her cell phone. "Scully," she answered abruptly, wrapping a large fluffy towel around herself.

"He's on his way to see you."

"Mulder?" Scully tucked one end of the towel securely between her breasts and padded barefoot into the living room.

"Yeah, Scully. It's me."

"Who is on his way?"

"Skinner."

"What!" Scully glanced frantically around her apartment and pulled the towel up higher. "Mulder, what have you done?"

"I don't have time to talk right now, but he wants to explain about the meeting in his office on Wednesday."

"What did he tell you?" A long pause was her only response. "Dammit, Mulder, don't leave me hanging like this. What's going on?"

"He wants to explain in person," was the unexpected reply.

She was starting to worry about the secretive tone in her partner's voice. "Are you coming over?"

"Not tonight," Mulder explained in a rush. "I have a few leads to check out. I'll talk to you about this tomorrow."

"What kind of leads?" Exasperated, Scully headed into her bedroom to dress. "Mulder?"

"Gotta go!" The connection was severed as abruptly as it had begun.

"Dammit!" She tossed the small phone onto the white, down-filled
comforter. The door bell rang just as she finished pulling on an old pair of jeans and a gray cashmere pullover. There was no time to fuss with her hair. A quick glance in the mirror was not very encouraging. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the bath, while damp copper ringlets clung to her forehead and neck.

The doorbell chimed a second time and she hurried into the living room. The peephole revealed a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. She turned the bolt lock and opened the door slowly.

"Agent Scully… I…." Skinner stumbled over the words.

"Sir…" Scully stammered at the same time. He was an imposing figure in the small hallway, his black trench coat resting magnificently on strong, broad shoulders. Still processing the fact that her former boss was standing larger than life outside of her apartment, she managed to take a step backwards and open the door wider.

Skinner acknowledged the silent invitation with a curt nod. He moved forward into living room, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his coat. Dark eyes scanned the warmth of her apartment. Scully's tasteful decor was not surprising. The plush couch and pastel wing chairs looked comfortable without being overly feminine, while the cherry wood end tables looked expensive and well cared for. Her computer sat on a neatly organized desk, the monitor lit up with whatever she was
working on. Framed pictures of family members hung in clusters on every wall.

"Can I take your coat?"

The polite hospitality caught him off guard. Mulder had convinced him to come here tonight and he had been led to expect nothing less than anger and cold civility. Which, in all honesty, was what he deserved. "No, thank you," he muttered through a clenched jaw. "I need to talk to you, Scully." He flexed his neck nervously, as if the tan column of skin were
still bound by the tie thrown carelessly on the front seat of his car.

Scully pressed her lips together in order to hide a grin. It wasn't often that an agent was treated to the sight of a nervous Walter Skinner. This was probably all Mulder's fault. Whatever he had said to Skinner had sent the Assistant Director to her apartment at nine o'clock in the evening, and he seemed determined to remain standing in the middle of the room. Although the matter was undoubtedly serious, it was impossible to deny her reaction to him being there. Her toes curled
unconsciously into the deep pile carpeting. She glanced down at her bare feet in shock. Embarrassment sent a flush of color to her cheeks, distracting her from whatever Skinner was trying to say.

"Mulder came to see me tonight." Skinner frowned at the heightened color in the petite woman. She appeared even smaller than usual as she walked over to the couch and sat down. He caught a brief glance of small, perfectly formed feet as she tucked them under her legs and hid them from view. He tried to force his attention back to the reason for his visit, but she looked like a well-fed kitten curled up on the couch cushions. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I owe you an explanation, Agent Scully."

"Dana."

Dark eyes narrowed in confusion. This confession was becoming even more difficult than he had imagined. He dropped down into one of the wing chairs, his long legs sprawling out in front of him. Lord, he was exhausted. "Scully…" He watched her frown, and corrected himself quickly, "Dana…. Mulder was correct tonight when he accused me of holding something back from the two of you."

"You were trying to protect us, Sir."

Skinner's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you know?"

Dana rose from the couch and walked over to her desk. She pulled a large envelope out of the top drawer and handed it to him. "I didn't recognize him that night in your office."

Skinner emptied the envelope onto the coffee table. Each photo was painfully clear to him. "I had hoped to spare you this," he whispered, shoulders hunched over in weariness. Tired hands removed his glasses, dropping them onto the table before rubbing his eyes. "This is my battle now."

Scully remained standing next to the chair. She reached out to touch his shoulder. The muscles were knotted with tension. Understandably so. "Whenever Krycek is involved," she reminded him gently, "so are we. He's been a part of every tragedy in our lives over the last five years. And now, he's done this to you."

"I'm not a part of your cause or Mulder's," Skinner insisted stubbornly. "I won't have either one of you going off half-cocked over a man this dangerous."

Their eyes met, Scully's softening in concern. "Turn around," she instructed, guiding his shoulder away from her when he failed to move. She placed both hands at the base of his neck. Strong, sure fingers had the desired effect, and his head fell forward in submission as she worked each muscle group in order.

Scully remained silent, lost in thought as she tried to ignore her own bodily responses. Her professional detachment had apparently gone on holiday the minute this man entered the room. She had know him for more than five years, yet in all that time there had been very few opportunities for physical contact between them. Most of those occurrences had taken place under extreme medical conditions. Admittedly, there had been that one little overreaction on her part in the elevator a few months ago. The quick kiss had been a form of gratitude. An instinctive reaction. At least that was how she rationalized it at the time.

Skinner was near comatose from the hypnotic rhythm of her skilled hands. Every tired muscle in his neck and shoulders turned to butter at her touch. His life had been missing this element of softness, this human touch, for far too long. He had buried himself in work, and for what?

When the rhythm of her hands changed, he was almost too relaxed to pick up on it. What had begun as a methodical working of muscles, suddenly felt more like a caress. It was easy enough to blame his imagination, but his body was reacting all the same. A soft groan slipped from his lips, and the hands suddenly disappeared. Disappointment kept him from turning around. "Thank you," he whispered simply.

Embarrassed by her own erotic response to his groan, Scully had let go of her former boss immediately and wrapped her arms self-consciously around herself. "I'll make some coffee," she muttered and headed for the kitchen.

Skinner waited a few moments before turning to watch her disappear into the small kitchenette. His expression remained impassive, but his mind was racing a mile a minute. He rose from his chair to follow her.

Dana felt his presence but kept herself busy spooning dark grounds into the coffee maker. She didn't have to glance over her shoulder to know how amazing he looked, resting against the door jamb, filling the doorway with his unconscious grace and style. He was a man's man. Nothing soft or feminine about him. He was strength and reliability. A man worth waiting for. A man worth fighting for. She was shamed by all her doubts in the past. How had Mulder been able to recognize all these
qualities in the man while she, herself had fallen victim to one
falsehood after another? Mulder had been a much better friend to
Skinner. But then again, Mulder hadn't been trying to ignore the
multitude of conflicting emotional and physical responses to the man in the same way she had. Maybe she had been afraid to see him for who he really was.
      
Skinner shifted from his position in the doorway, pushing away from the wall and stepping into the small room. "Can I help?"

Dana shook her head, and turned to the tap, filling the glass pot with water. "No. I've got it." She poured the water into the back of the machine.

He drifted closer. Close enough so that if she turned, she would be face to face with the second button of his shirt.

"You still haven't let me explain," he whispered.

"You don't have to," she responded. With a flick of a switch, the coffee began to drip down into the empty pot. A large hand settled lightly on her back, and she turned to look over her shoulder. "Once I recognized who we were dealing with, it wasn't too hard to figure out. In his own way, Alex is fairly predictable."

"How do you do it?" he murmured, his jaw clenched tightly as he searched her face for the source of her deep inner strength.

"Do what?"

"How do you live with that chip in your neck?" Blunt fingers brushed across her nape as he spoke. "How do you live knowing that ultimately you are at their mercy?" His eyes darkened in anger. "How do you convince yourself not to take back what little control you can by ending your own life on your own terms?"

Dana twisted her body around, placing herself unexpectedly in his close embrace. She raised a hand to his cheek and stroked the side of his face. Unaware of his own actions, Skinner pressed into her palm, taking solace in the honesty of her touch. Her thumb stroked the side of his mouth, and his eyelids drifted downward - but not before she spotted the flash of emotional response.

"You'll fight this," she promised him, "just like I do."

"How?" The agonized question came out in a burst of painful laughter. Two arms slipped inside his coat, wrapping around his waist. A small, exquisite face came to rest against his white shirt, and she hugged him fiercely. He found himself automatically tightening his arms.

"Choose to live." The words were murmured directly over his heart. Dana pulled away and willed him to understand. "Make every moment of every day count."

Pride at her bravery warred with sorrow for both of their predicaments as he met her gaze. She was an amazing woman. Physically small, yet stronger than most men when it came to what really counted.

"I'm not sure I was very good at living even before this current
circumstance," he confessed. "I'm not sure where to begin." It was an honest admission from a man who had long ago forgotten the ground rules of intimacy.

Scully stood up on her tip toes, and whispered, "Begin here." One hand cupped the back of his neck and drew his face down to hers. Warm breath fanned her cheeks just before her lips brushed across his. Tracing the corners of his mouth with the tip her tongue, she tasted his surprise. There was no hesitation left when he parted his lips and granted her entrance. She teased and taunted until he responded in kind.

Scully knew the exact moment Skinner gave in to the simmering passion building between them. Two large hands spanned her waist, pulling her up higher against his chest as he became the aggressor. Her feet left the ground and she found herself placed on the counter top, pinned against the wood cabinets as the kiss continued. He stood between her legs, cradling her face with one hand while the other remained securely at her waist. Her bare feet curled around the back of his rock solid thighs, her hands moved through the short, dark fringes of his hair, and she
jumped when his hands closed over her hips. Liquid heat pooled in her lower extremities and she continued to grind her mouth against his. He tasted just as she knew he would. A taste so wonderfully addicting, she was destined to crave it for the rest of her life. He broke away from the kiss suddenly, leaving her bereft and confused.

"Scully…" Skinner ignored the small hands gripping his upper arms. He looked away, rubbing the knot of tension that was quickly returning to the back of his neck. "I'm sorry," he apologized in an impersonal voice. "That shouldn't have happened. This is not the time to be complicating matters further." His gaze was drawn back to her like a magnet. She
remained sitting on counter top, her legs swinging freely, her lips red and swollen from their kiss. Beautiful blue eyes regarded him steadily. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to calm his racing pulse and rapidly beating heart. He refused to even consider the painful hardness in his groin. Scully reached up, wiping a drop of moisture from the side of his mouth and he flinched.

"I'm not a child," she reminded him softly. "I know what I'm doing."

The comment brought a near smile to his face. "I realize that, Dana." He shook his head in utter amazement at his own behavior. "Boy, do I realize that." Skinner whipped his head around to stare out into the living room. It was an instinctive gesture that she was long familiar with. He was closing himself off again. He stubbornly refused to allow anyone close enough to care. As soon as he stepped away, she knew he was headed for the front door. Hopping down quickly, she followed, managing to get a hold of his glasses before he remembered where he set them down.

Skinner held out his hand and waited for her to return the wire rims. His expression darkened dangerously as she held them up like a trophy. "I don't want your sympathy!" he informed her loudly, but the Assistant Director voice fell on deaf ears. "That isn't why I came tonight." He moved forward impatiently.

Scully refused to back away. She stood her ground until they were face to face, the electricity simmering and snapping between them despite his refusal to acknowledge it.

"You'll get no sympathy from me," she stated bluntly, handing over the glasses without a fight. It was worth it just to see the surprised look on his face. "What you will get, if you're willing to accept it, is someone who has lain awake at night wondering what it would be like to have you there beside her." Afraid of losing an opportunity that might never come around again, she continued with brutal honesty. "I've sat through years of meetings with you and Mulder, trying to control urges
that I didn't yet understand, and I'm tired of it." Her head tilted to the side, "You're a good man, Walter Skinner, and I want to make you smile...." She took a deep breath, watching the subtle play of emotions on his face before adding, "and then I want to make you moan."

Skinner stood frozen in place, the glasses exactly where she had placed them in the palm of his hand.

"Most importantly," Dana continued, "I want to feel alive again, and I want you to feel it too. What I don't want," she added in a faint whisper, "is to waste any more time." Her fingertips traced the side of his jaw. "It's far too precious for both of us." With a final glance at his stunned expression, she left the room, knowing he had to come to a decision on his own. She had done all she could do. She had risked everything by making her own feelings crystal clear.

Back in her bedroom, she stood in front of the dresser and picked up a silver-framed photograph, running her fingers over the smiling faces of her mother and father. They had taught her so much. Her father especially. While they had both given her unconditional love, it was her father who had tried to teach her the value of nobility and strength. He would have appreciated those traits in Walter Skinner.

"Dana?"

A warm hand closed around the woolly softness of her upper arm. He stood behind her in the small, dimly lit bedroom, glancing over her shoulder at the picture she held. She carefully set it back down.

"Your mother looks very happy." It was idle chit chat, but an opening all the same.

"She was very much in love my father."

"It shows."

Dana's eyes warmed with the memories. "They were always touching. I used to think that love like that was reserved for their generation. It all seems so fleeting nowadays. People marry and divorce easily."

"It's a complicated world." Walter removed his hand from her arm, and fingered the tips of her hair. The coppery red strands had fascinated him for years. Especially when she had worn it in a longer style. He used to watch it swing across her shoulders as she stormed out of his office. He'd stare at the closed door like a schoolboy. What queer twist of fate had brought to this unexpected crossroads in his life? As if sensing his muddled thoughts, Scully tilted her head back to get his attention. His fingers wove deeper into the fiery mass until he was cupping the nape of her neck. He bent over to plant a soft kiss on the top of her head. She smelled heavenly. With an amused shake of his head, he tried to remember what they had been talking about. "Do you still feel that way?"
 
"About love, Sir?"

"Yes," the word slipped out as a seductive growl.

Scully turned around, surprised to see that Skinner had shed his
overcoat. The sleeves of his white shirt had been rolled up and he looked amazingly relaxed. "Let's just say," she began with a smile, "my ideas about love have recently undergone a material change."

Skinner reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Cupping a hand around her neck again, he bent down to whisper one word in her ear, "Walter."

"Walter?" Her eyebrows arched in surprise.

"Do you think you could manage to call me Walter again?"

"You liked that?"

"Yes," he admitted with a rare smile, "I did." Gazing down at her now, he made no attempt to hide the desire in his eyes. The differences between them were striking. His large hands and thick fingers looked awkward against the delicate features of her face. His thumb brushed across a pale cheek. She twisted unexpectedly, closing her mouth around the soft, padded digit. Coral lips released him a moment later, leaving him to wonder about the sucking motion that had been felt all the way down to his toes.

"Dana…" he ground out in a husky whisper.

"Will you stay?" she asked softly.

"If you want me to."

"I've never wanted anything more in my life." As if to prove her point, she began to slowly unbutton his shirt. Once the last button had been freed, warm palms slid under the material, pushing it off of his shoulders and down his arms. Her hands flexed over the muscular curves and hard planes of his impressive upper body. Closing the last remaining distance between them, her lips pressed into the warm skin over his heart.

Walter touched her chin, guiding it upward to look into her eyes. What he saw there was indescribable. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. "This must be a dream because I know I don't deserve you."

"Shhh...." A lone finger touched his lips. "You deserve the world, Walter, and if it were mine to give, I would lay it at your feet. Let me love you," she begged. One masculine leg slid between hers, and she gasped. He captured her face in his hands again, touching his tongue to hers in a kiss so intimate, they groaned simultaneously. Pulled higher onto his thigh, the rhythmic caresses rendered her tremulous and weak. The passage of time went unnoticed as they explored each other's desire.
Still fully clothed, she was ready to come apart in his arms.

Walter guided her backwards to the bed. Oxygen was sought in quick gasping breaths, neither one willing to give up the riotous sensations born of their fantasies come true. Hands grew bolder, touching and seeking, never stopping their frantic exploration. His lips strayed from her mouth to trail across her jaw and neck, feasting on the sensitive skin just below her ear. Agile, feminine, hands brushed across his nipples, leaving them distended and aching for a return of her attention. It was all happening too fast, but he could no more stop the inevitable, than she could. He no longer wanted to. Life was too short.
Love was too precious.

Taking hold of the gray sweater, he lifted it up and over her raised arms. By the time he tossed it onto the floor behind him, she was already stepping out of her jeans. Words could do no justice to her beauty so he paid homage in the best way he knew how. His mouth touched her collarbone, leaving a moist trail downward across the swell of her breasts. His hands cupped their fullness through the ivory lace of her bra. Dana had unhooked the back and he hesitated when the fragile material fell into his open palms. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and pleasure. "No second thoughts," he murmured huskily. It was not a question.

"No regrets," she added, reaching for his belt. Unsteady hands dealt quickly with the buckle, sliding the leather out of the loops with a whoosh that darkened her companion's eyes to ebony. Lowering his zipper, her knuckles brushed across the straining hardness beneath the soft white cotton material. First things first, her hands slid around to his hips and tucked inside the waistband of his briefs so she could push both briefs and slacks to the ground. His erection sprang free, pressing into her lower stomach, massive and hard. She reached down to stroke him. Lord, help her, he had to have been created with every personal
preference of hers in mind. He not only had the body of a Greek god, but the heart of a lion, and the intellect of a born leader. She let him lower her to the bed, shuddering in anticipation as he braced one knee next to her.

Walter saw the tremor pass through her slight frame. She was delicate and fragile, yet all he wanted to do was press her into the mattress and ease the rampaging hunger her passionate confessions had inspired. Covering her body with his own, he tried to rest the bulk of his weight on one elbow, allowing himself the freedom to move without hurting her, but he hadn't counted on her impatience. Strong arms encircled his neck as she demanded the return of his lips, and pulled him full length on
top of her. The kiss was soul-baring and deep, leaving no room for doubts or insecurities. One quick tug on a narrow strip of lace rid them of the only barrier still standing in their way. Massaging her lower stomach and hips, his hand circled closer to the valley between her thighs. She was straining upward into his hand, and when his fingers finally dipped between her legs, she was drenched and desperate for his touch.

He left her lips, lowering his mouth to her navel and kissing his way across her lower belly. She cried out from the sensual onslaught, but pulled on his shoulders before he reached the triangle of red curls. His eyes glittered in response, waiting for her demands.

"Not yet," she managed hoarsely. She wanted him, no - needed him, to be inside of her first. "Please," was all she said and he immediately returned to her arms. Her legs shifted further apart and he settled between them, turning his attention to her breasts. She clutched his shoulders as he suckled noisily, flicking and tonguing one flushed peak at a time. Each tug from his mouth sent additional moisture between her legs and she squirmed against the heavy thickness resting there.

Walter released a damp nipple, watching her intently. He was poised at the entrance of her body, straining to control the desperate hunger coursing through his veins. Her hands urged him on and he carefully pushed into her. She whimpered softy, and he paused, afraid of causing her pain. She was small and stretched tightly around him. He waited for a signal to continue, perspiration beading on his brow as he froze half way to heaven.

Being a medical doctor, the fullness was not a surprise to Dana, but the sensual onslaught was. The mild discomfort was fading fast, replaced by the amazing ability to feel every inch of him because of his size. She moved slightly, taking him in a little bit further before retreating again. The engorged head scraped erotically against her vaginal walls. Her lower body pulsed with pleasure, and she was alive with an intensity that she had never imagined possible.

"Have I hurt you?" Walter asked in a shaky voice. His thighs trembled with the effort of staying perfectly still. Her answer was a surge upwards and it was his turn to gasp. Her playfulness encouraged him to continue. The depth and speed of his strokes increased as he coated himself with her moisture time and time again. He gripped the back of her knees, lifting her legs higher, allowing himself to plunge deeper.

Their breathing grew frantic and shallow. Over and over again, he whispered she was beautiful. She claimed he was beautiful too. It resulted in his second smile of the evening. They were both hovering on the verge, their bodies tightened into coiled springs searching for that ultimate release when he decided to prolong their pleasure. Wrapping his arms around shoulders, he rolled to the side until their positions were reversed.

"Tired?" she gasped as the word crossed her lips. With a mischievous smile she shifted astride his hips, experimenting with her new found control.

"I just wanted to check out the view from this position," he admitted, keeping both hands splayed across her thighs. The sight of her passion was a gift he had never thought possible to experience. Her head had tipped backwards, the fiery hair he loved, pushed back from her sweat covered brow. Her eyes were half-closed, and soft, firm breasts jutted out from her body, well within his reach. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked in between groans. Dana had found a new rhythm and took charge as if born to it.

"What?" she responded in a distracted voice. Each time she rose up and thrust herself back down onto him, she rubbed against the thick base of his erection. Pinpoints of pleasure shot through her over and over again. It was only a matter of time.

He tightened his grip on her thighs as she landed once again and slid forward. A guttural groan slipped out through his lips, echoing loudly in the small bedroom. His tongue passed over his own parched lips, and his head rolled from side to side as he tried to remember what he wanted to say. "Dana…"

"Walter….." the word was more of a hiss.

He surged to an upright position, wrapping his arms around her waist, waiting for her to look him in the eye. Small hands framed his face, and she kissed him deeply. Holding her naked in his arms, her body impaled upon his, was the single most erotic moment of his life. "Tell me the truth," he begged, wanting to hear the words once again. "Have you really dreamt about this moment?"

"Yesssss……." His thumbs pressed against the spot where their bodies were joined, cutting off whatever she had been about to say as every muscles in her body tightened unbearably before releasing her into a blinding orgasm. She closed her eyes and buried herself in the safety of his arms.

Walter took hold of her hips as the convulsions began, lifting her and lowering her back down as the ripples of pleasure coursed through her. Scully's face pressed into the crook of his neck, her cries muffled against his damp skin. The erotic sounds, coupled with her continuing contractions soon had him grunting loudly with his own intense release. His body pulsed with life as he poured himself into her.

Fifteen minutes they were stretched out under a sheet, fondling and kissing each other in the tired aftermath of their love making.

"Are you trying to tell me that Mulder had all this planned out?" Walter asked incredulously. Dana stared down at him with laughing eyes, her chin propped up on hands that rested comfortably over his heart. The sheet had slipped lower when she moved, baring a slender back to his appreciative view. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead.

"Would that surprise you?" One of her legs rested comfortably between his.

"Yes," he admitted with a gruff laugh. "He'd be a fool not to want you all for himself." Dana shifted on top of him, her flattened breasts dragging erotically against the hair on his chest.

"There are many choices in life, Walter, but who we fall in love with is not always one of them." Her fingertips traced the firm, straight line of his mouth.

"Love." He savored the word like a sip of fine wine. "You and I have a lot to talk about, Agent Scully."

Her smile widened at the formal title spoken with affection by the naked man beneath her. "Yes, Sir, we certainly do." His hands were on the move again, meandering along the curves and valleys of her spine. "I'm free this weekend if you are."

Dana's cell phone rang, interrupting the intimate moment. She found it buried under the comforter and answered reluctantly, knowing there was only one person who would be calling her this late at night.

"Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder," she responded, "it's me."

"Are you alone?"

"No, I'm not, but I'll bet you know that already."

His soft chuckle brought the smile back to her face. "I had my
suspicions," he admitted.

Their verbal shorthand made any further comments unnecessary. Bed check had been performed. His blessings on their union understood.

"Goodnight, Mulder," Dana murmured, her eyes flickering hungrily over the man at her side.

There was a long pause.

"Take care of him." Mulder finally added in a serious voice.

"I promise." The connection was severed on the other end. Dana stared at the small phone before placing it on the night stand.

"In the old days," Skinner commented with a sly smile, "I could have buried him in paperwork for a few days so we could have a little privacy."

"Maybe you can talk to Kersh for me," she teased, settling back down across his chest.

They both spoke up at the same time.

"Maybe not."

"I don't think so."

The look on her face was priceless. Her scrunched up nose, adorable. A rumbling started deep in his chest, and before Walter Skinner could stop himself, he was laughing out loud. Maybe what Dana said earlier in the evening had been correct. If the rest of his life was going to be a matter of choice, then the choice was simple. She was right here in his arms.

*

The End

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