Subject: Crossing the Line 6 Sent: 28/01 11:50 AM Received: 28/01 9:29 PM From: Sharon Nuttycombe, avalon@terranet.ab.ca To: dobbo@c031.aone.net.au Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 1/2 Sharon Nuttycombe celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca May 31, 1996 ************************************************************ This is the second-last chapter of "Crossing the Line", a Scully and Skinner romance. It takes place in a universe in which Avatar never happened. Part one is still PG-13, but part two will (finally) be NC-17. I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story, style, or anything else you care to mention. Thank you. Acknowledgements: Thanks to Linda Campbell, my co-conspirator and unofficial, unpaid research assistant. Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, and Mulder belong to Chris Carter...Do you think if I said copyright infringement was intended then the FBI would come to investigate me? Would they look like Skinner...? Oh no - Canada is out of FBI jurisdiction. Whimper. ************************************************************ Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 1/2 Mulder was brooding. Again. He rested his chin on his hand and stared speculatively into space. He recognized the unpleasant fact that he was becoming obsessed, but couldn't seem to help himself. Yesterday had been...a shock. He might have been more surprised if a group of extraterrestrials had transported into his office singing a selection of barbershop quartet numbers, but he doubted it. Scully and Skinner... He had been speechless, yesterday afternoon at the hospital, when he had recognized Skinner's as the voice on the phone that had informed him that Scully was in the shower. A shock. That was an understatement. He had never suspected, never guessed - - and he called himself an investigator. His powers of observation were obviously on a level with the produce aisle of the local supermarket -- and even potatoes had eyes. It didn't help that Scully was avoiding him. He had missed her at the hospital, had returned from his aimless wandering to find that she, Jack, and Celeste had gone. He had hastened back to the office...and waited...and waited. The only visitor had been a courier with several truckloads of paperwork for him to fill out, courtesy of A.D. Skinner. Skinner... Eventually he had discovered that she had called in to take the rest of the day off. So he had sat at his desk all that long, lonely afternoon, forging through reams of file folders, and wondering what he would say when next he saw her. He had gone home that evening and stared glumly at the telephone -- but hadn't called. She knew where he was, after all. If she wanted to talk, well, she had his number... He was being childish, he knew. Fine. What's the point of being grown up if you can't act childish? He was feeling...put out. Not jealous. Oh no, not that. He just wished she had told him that she was...involved. He was her partner, after all. Surely she owed him that much. "You didn't tell her about Kristin." His conscience gnawed at him. "True. But that's different" "No, it's not," the voice inside him shot back. "Yeah, but..." This was insane. He was sitting alone in the basement of the FBI Building arguing with himself. "I'm an idiot," he said out loud. "I can't argue with that." Scully's voice startled him out of his reverie, and he jumped. She stood framed in the doorway, her expression hooded. Mulder swallowed. What was he supposed to say? Scully braced herself. She had come to work this morning in a foul mood. The tensions of the last week had finally caught up with her, and she felt like someone had scraped every nerve- end raw. Skinner, Mulder's unofficial jaunt to Canada, Celeste's false labour...Skinner...It was becoming too much. Scully had always prided herself on her control, but it certainly wouldn't take much to push her over the edge today. The oceans of coffee she had consumed hadn't helped; neither had the ultra-strength aspirin. "One word, Mulder," she thought, "just one word, and I won't answer for the consequences." "Uh, hi Scully." "Hi." Her voice was cold. "I missed..." "Where did...?" They both spoke at once, then stopped. "You first," Scully said. "After you." There was a brief silence. "Okay." She came all the way in and shut the door behind her. "Sure. Fine. Let's start with where you were this weekend." Her adversarial tone surprised even her. Mulder blinked. "You know where I was," he said, mildly enough. Scully narrowed her eyes. "Yes. I suppose I do. How was Vancouver?" The sarcasm in her voice was not lost on him. "Wet." The tension in the office began to rise unbearably. Scully leaned against the wall. "So. Catch any sea wolves?" Mulder essayed a weak grin. "Not even a cold." The humour was lost on her. "Uh huh." Mulder was beginning to feel like a frog on a dissection table. He shifted uncomfortably. "Look Scully, if this is about my trip to Canada..." "You bet it's about your trip to Canada." She pushed herself away from the wall and crossed over to his desk, anger rising in her voice. "You ignored Bureau policy and engaged in illegal activities in a foreign country. You didn't tell me where you were going. You made me look like an idiot and you got me in hot water. I had to lie to cover for you, Mulder -- to the Assistant Director." Mulder suspected that the last item on her list was bothering her the most. Had she really lied to Skinner? Where did her loyalties truly lie now? With surprise, he realized that that was part of what was bothering him -- he had trusted her unconditionally. Could he continue to do so? "First," he said, trying to maintain his composure, "I did not engage in 'illegal activities'. I took a personal trip north of the border, and while there, did a little looking around. There's nothing illegal about..." "Mulder," she interrupted, "You were thrown off of two Native reservations, were nearly arrested by the RCMP, and were 'asked politely' to leave the country!" "Scully..." "Let me finish. Worse than that, you ran off without me. Again. I'm getting really tired of that. I don't like being the last person to know where you are. I don't like having to cover for you to our superiors, and I certainly don't like worrying about whether you're all right or lying dead at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean." "Scully..." "No. You went too far this time. Loyalty has it's limits. We have to draw the line somewhere." That did it. Mulder's tenuous hold on his control slipped. She wasn't even letting him defend himself. "You haven't been too worried about stepping over that line lately, it seems," he said coldly. "Excuse me?" "Since we're on the subject of explanations, perhaps you'd care to explain what Assistant Director Skinner was doing at your apartment on Sunday. And why you just happened to be in the shower?" He paused expectantly. Scully felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her. The fine Irish fury she had been working herself up to vanished and she swallowed. He knew. Of course he knew. Great. Oh well. Deal with it and move on... "Not that it's any of your business, but there is a perfectly logical explanation for that." She was proud that there wasn't a single tremor in her voice. "Oh good." Mulder leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I just love perfectly logical explanations. Pray elucidate." His sarcasm grated on her, and her temper began to build again. She gritted her teeth. "We were caught in a rainstorm. He took shelter at my place. I was cold and took a shower. You phoned. He answered. He left. End of story." That was all true enough, but oh, what volumes it left out. The sight of Skinner standing shirtless in her living room, the light playing across his bare chest...all those muscles...Skinner holding her close...the warmth of his body...Get a grip, she thought fiercely to herself. There were times for erotic fantasies, and this was not one of them. She stared evenly back at her partner. "Uh huh." There was a note of disbelief in his voice. Scully narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means 'uh huh'. Sure. Fine. Whatever." She was going to kill him. She was definitely going to kill him. It would feel so good to pick up the paperweight and start beating him with it. Violence had never seemed so attractive. "You know what I think?" her partner was saying, "I think you decided to pick a fight with me about going to Canada, just so you wouldn't have to deal with what's obviously going on between you and the Assistant Director." Her mouth dropped open. "I did not." "I realize what you do in your spare time is your business and that you have no obligation to tell me anything at all, but I thought we were friends. I thought you might have confided in me. And I also thought you had more sense than to get involved in another office romance, considering how the last one ended." Scully's hands twitched closer to the paperweight. "That was low, Mulder, and I am _not_ involved in an office romance," she said through gritted teeth. "Su-" "If you say sure, fine, whatever, Mulder, I'm going to kill you." "Sure...okay." "Fine." Scully couldn't resist the impulse. "Whatever." He stared back at her challengingly. Scully suddenly realized they were both trying to get the last word. This was insane. Two grown adults, behaving like small children. Fine. Women were supposed to be more mature anyway. She turned away and crossed stiffly to her desk. "I think we've just about exhausted the usefulness of this conversation, don't you?" She sat down and began to sort through some papers, not looking at him. "I agree." She did not respond. A cold silence descended over the office, broken only by the rustle of papers. * * * A hot bath hadn't helped. Relaxing nature music hadn't helped. Scully had lit enough exotic candles to start a forest fire, and they hadn't helped. She had tried reading, but Jane Austen gave her a headache. Everything gave her a headache. The sound of her eyelashes gave her a headache. She had finally opened the largest bag of potato chips she could find, curled up in front of the TV, and watched everything that was on. Absolutely _everything_. She had flicked unseeingly through the news, cop shows, legal dramas, MTV, The Country Network, game shows, prime time soaps, PBS nature shows, infomercials, community news, British sitcoms, and The Weather Network. Nothing had helped. True, she had a much better sense of what was going on in her community, had rediscovered that she _really_ hated heavy metal, and knew that it was probably going to rain tomorrow...but none of that helped the situation she found herself in. Scully was miserable. There was no other word for it. Dry waves of unhappiness swept over her at regular intervals, and her throat felt tight. All she really wanted was a warm shoulder to lean on and a little sympathy. She had picked up the phone half a dozen times to call Celeste, but had put it back each time. Celeste had enough problems of her own right now. She wasn't going to burden her further. And of course, her mother _would_ be out of town this week. There was no one she could turn to. Normally Scully would have phoned Mulder. He was her partner, after all. He was always there for her. But not now. Now he was part of the problem. Her mind replayed their fight in harsh, uncompromising detail, and she shuddered. She regretted her words...now. Of course at the time, she had wanted to murder him, but now...now she needed a consoling shoulder. And his wasn't available. They had spent the day in frosty silence, speaking to each other as little as possible. They had gone their separate ways at lunchtime, and Scully, unwilling to face the rest of the day trapped in the basement with him, had found an excuse to do a _lot_ of research in the Bureau library. She had seen no sign of Skinner, either, had seen no one all afternoon but Monica, the librarian, a tall, willowy woman who always made Scully feel slightly frumpy. Of course, given the state of her mood today, frumpy was just icing on the cake. The agent put another potato chip in her mouth and stared blankly at the home repair show where a sawdust-covered man was explaining grommets. What exactly was a grommet, anyway? The grommet-man eventually finished and a pledge-drive break began. Scully finished the potato chips and crumpled up the bag, tossing it toward the wastepaper basket. Missed. Of course. What else? Scully sighed and leaned back against her sofa, considering the container of double-deluxe chocolate nut fudge ice cream in her freezer. Tempting. Very, very tempting. She went so far as to get up and open the freezer door then stared pensively inside. She paused. "This is ridiculous," she thought, "I refuse to reduce myself to a cliche." She closed the door with a bang and wandered back to the sofa where she wrapped herself in her most comfortable quilt and flicked the remote control yet again. When her clock chimed two, Scully was in the middle of some Canadian show about a vampire who was also a cop. "Why not?" she thought idly. "It's no less believable than Melrose Place." And actually, it wasn't half bad. At least the vampire-hero was easy on the eyes. That thought led inevitably to Walter Skinner, and the way he had looked when... Scully groaned and closed her eyes. She couldn't go on like this. Her work was suffering. Her friendship with Mulder was _really_ suffering. And she was suffering. This had to end. Somehow. Abruptly she leapt from the sofa, untwisting herself from the quilt and strode decisively to her room. She was going to talk to Skinner. They had to come to a solution. Talking would help. It always did, didn't it? She ignored the lateness of the hour as she pulled on a faded pair of bluejeans and a t- shirt. Action. That was what was needed. Face the problem, find a solution, and move on. And she was going to find that solution come hell or high water. She was tired of hiding. END OF PART ONE * * * Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 2/2 Sharon Nuttycombe celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca May 31, 1996 ************************************************************ This is the second-last chapter of "Crossing the Line", a Scully and Skinner romance. It takes place in a universe in which Avatar never happened. It is (finally) NC-17. (Everyone has been very patient...) I would appreciate any comments or criticism, about story, style, or anything else you care to mention. Thank you. Acknowledgements: Thanks to Linda Campbell, my co-conspirator and unofficial, unpaid research assistant. Disclaimer: Scully, Skinner, and Mulder belong to Chris Carter...Do you think if I said copyright infringement was intended then the FBI would come to investigate me? Would they look like Skinner...? Oh no! Canada is out of FBI jurisdiction. Whimper. ************************************************************ Crossing the Line 6 - Tempest part 2/2 Scully stood shivering in the Autumn darkness on Skinner's front doorstep. She had driven straight over, not allowing her mind to ponder...anything. For once in her life, she had simply acted. So now, here she was, feeling like a complete and utter fool. "I should go," she thought unhappily. "What did I expect to say to him anyway? 'Excuse me sir, I came over here at 2:00 am to tell you that I am incredibly attracted to you, and that you probably feel the same way too, given that you kissed me the other night. Except you were drunk at the time and don't remember it, so perhaps it doesn't count. Anyway, I just thought I'd drop in to see if we could work something out. Perhaps you'd consider moving to Alaska? Or getting married to somebody? I know Monica the librarian is available...'" A pang went through her. Even the thought of Walter Skinner and...somebody else...hurt. A lot. And she knew, deep down, that even if he did move to Alaska, or Vladivostok for that matter, she would still feel the same way. Hells, she'd probably follow him. This wasn't going to work. Scully turned to leave. * * * Skinner set his glasses on the table with a bang. It was no good. He'd been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now, and he still didn't know what it said. All he could think of was a certain red-haired Federal Agent. The way she moved. Her body... Stop it. He climbed to his feet and reached for the remote. A distraction. Any distraction. Of course, at this hour, the chances of anything good being on tv were slight. A quick spin through the channels proved him correct. Infomercials, more infomercials, a bad movie made in the seventies, and some damn vampire-cop show. Skinner flicked the television off irritably and, coming to a quick decision, reached for his coat. Some fresh air, no matter how late the hour, seemed to be in order. Quit kidding yourself, Walter. You know you're going to drive by her apartment. Skinner scowled and told the voice in his head to shut up. * * * The door opened. Scully froze in mid-turn as her boss appeared in the doorway, carrying a coat. He too stopped and they stared wordlessly at each other. Scully's heart caught in her throat. Neither knew who took the first step, but suddenly they were only inches apart. Skinner did not hesitate, did not think...he dropped his coat then slid his arms around her waist, unwilling to question whatever quirk of fate had led her here. Her body melded willingly against his. He dipped his head toward her mouth, finally succumbing to the impulses he had been combatting for what felt like a lifetime. Scully forgot why she had come, forgot everything but the sensations flooding over her. At his first touch her every nerve burst into flame and she quivered in his arms. When his lips descended brutally on hers, she did not flinch, but returned the kiss with equal hunger. He deepened the kiss, tilting her head back, his tongue roughly demanding an equal response from her. Her lips parted and she gasped as he probed deeper. Her body arched against his as his hands roamed over her back and buttocks. He pulled her yet closer, her breasts crushing against his chest. Scully moaned in the back of her throat, her legs beginning to buckle. Abruptly he reached down and lifted her, pressing her body tightly against his. She wrapped both legs around his waist, her tongue still duelling with his while he somehow backed up into the house and kicked the door shut behind him. He braced her against the wall, desire throbbed through him. Scully's senses exploded when he bent his head first to her throat and then to her breasts. Suddenly she had no patience for this. She wanted him _now_. Her fingers moved of their own accord to his shirt and she fumbled with the buttons. Impatiently he set her down and pulled the shirt over his head. Scully caught her breath as she ran her hands over his bare chest. She had wondered what all those muscles would feel like, and now she knew. He immediately dipped his head back down to hers, scorching her mouth. It took him only a moment to remove her t -shirt and bra. He slid his hands over her ribs then moved upward to cup her breasts, ravaging her mouth while pressing every inch of himself yet closer. She could feel his hardness through his jeans. Scully found she could no longer breath. Skinner felt her tremble, and a stray flicker of sanity pierced the desire that was threatening to engulf him. He should stop. They should stop. He looked down at her, her lips parted and bruised, her eyes dark with passion. Stop this now, he thought, while you still can...And then she arched her body against his and ran her fingers down to the edge of his waistband...and sanity bid him a fond farewell. He swept her up again and she clung to him, locking her limbs around his hips. He carried her to the bedroom and set her on the bed. Scully tightened her grip on him and dragged him down with her, rolling on top to kiss him deeply, her hands moving freely over his shoulders and chest. She reached down to unbutton his jeans, sliding them over his hips, then removed his underwear. Skinner paused a moment to drag his socks and shoes off, then turned his attention back to her. It took him only a moment to remove the rest of her clothing. Scully twisted sinuously on top of him, glorying in the feel of his naked body against hers. She had wanted this for so long, had dreamt of him for what seemed like forever... Skinner was losing control. He tried to draw back a little, but she wouldn't let him, her own needs dictating the pace. She moaned and slid her hands lower, and then there was nothing but need and desire. They were no longer Assistant Director and Federal Agent but only two people who needed each other desperately. He ran a hand over the inside of her thighs, then moved it higher, and Scully's fingers tightened on him. She whimpered, and gasped for breath. Then, with a sudden twist, their positions were reversed and, without pausing, he drove himself deeply into her, groaning. Scully cried out, arching upward to meet him. She wrapped both legs fiercely around his waist, her body straining to match his every move. Oblivious to everything but sensation and need, Skinner plunged into her again and again, angling her rocking hips so he could bury himself ever deeper into her. The force of his thrusts left them both gasping. He slid his hand between them and caressed her. A tremor ran through her, then Scully called out his name as waves of desire crashed violently over her, dark lights exploding behind her eyes. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders and her nails dug into his skin. Skinner stiffened. A savage shudder went through him as he gasped and emptied himself into her. He buried his face in her hair, groaning her name while Scully clung helplessly to him, her breath coming fast against his cheek and tears forming on her eyelashes. Then he collapsed, his full weight settling on her. Silence slowly descended. Scully quivered violently, aftershocks rippling through her frame. Gasping for air, his heart racing, Skinner tried to withdraw, ease his weight from her a little...and found he couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, could barely see... "I'll get off in a minute," he managed to whisper hoarsely. Her arms unconsciously tightened around him. "Take your time." Her voice was thin and ragged. For an eternity they did not move, then strength began to return to the Assistant Director, and he slowly withdrew, to collapse once more beside her. His breath was still coming in short gasps. He could feel her shivering against him, the cool air beginning to chill both of their damp bodies. With hands that shook, he managed to reach down for a blanket and dragged it around them, pulling her even closer into his arms. Together, their hearts resumed a more regular pace. Scully blinked tiredly, then closed her eyes. She felt... shattered. That had been...there were no words. Actually there were words, but they were generally used to describe cosmic events like the birth and death of stars or _really_ powerful explosive devices...If she had to describe this, she'd probably have to use the Richter scale. And even that didn't go high enough. She clung tiredly to Skinner, her limbs entangled with his, unable to move. Sanity slowly returned to the Assistant Director. It came back, took a quick look around, and decided to head out again for a quick pint or two. Skinner didn't miss it. He didn't want to deal with what they had done, didn't want to become the Assistant Director again. He just wanted to hold the woman beside him...for a little longer. An lifetime passed. Finally, when he knew he could delay no longer, Skinner reluctantly opened his eyes. Scully's face was flushed, her body still damp with sweat. For a moment he delighted in the feeling of her nestled closely against him, one hand resting on his chest, the other folded around his waist...but then he saw the bruises on her lips and the streaks of tears that marred her face... and remorse shot through him. What had he done? He had just brutally attacked the woman he...No. Don't say it. Don't think about it. Just lie here quietly, and maybe the world will go away. It didn't. Hesitantly, Skinner brought a gentle hand up to brush away the dampness on her cheeks. Her eyes opened, her lashes brushing against his fingertips and she gazed at him blankly. There was no recrimination in her eyes, only a sort of stunned surprise. No wonder. He probably looked the same way. Scully felt dazed. She had just had one of the most... significant...experiences of her life, and it was with someone she shouldn't be with. For a moment she wondered why. Why shouldn't she have slept with Walter Skinner? Her mind went blank and then she remembered. The FBI, her career, professionalism, lines that shouldn't be crossed. Ever. A familiar pain clutched at her heart and she knew it was reflected in her eyes. The expression on his face changed, to something very like guilt. Her pain increased. She wanted nothing more than to lie here in his arms and wake up beside him tomorrow morning. But she couldn't. Circumstances, pride, and her sense of duty wouldn't let her. Slowly, Scully began to gather up the shattered remnants of her self-control, preparing to draw away. Skinner watched her withdraw mentally and a piercing wave of pain swept over him. What had he done? "Dana," he said hoarsely, realizing it was almost the first word either of them had spoken since she had arrived on his doorstep. "I...I'm sorry." Her eyebrows arched in surprise. "Sorry?" There was a note of disbelief in her voice. The pain in his chest increased in magnitude. "Sorry for what?" she asked, her retreat momentarily halted. Skinner swallowed. "I should have been...gentler. Slower. I never asked..." A look of relief crossed her face and her lips curled upward in a faint smile. "Slower would have been less...that was...you were..." She was beginning to babble incoherently. Take a deep breath, Dana. She did. She started again. "Fast was...good. Better than good. I...didn't want you to slow down." This was ridiculous. She was blushing. After what they had just done, she should have been beyond blushing. The look of relief in his eyes made her feel better though. He truly was...wonderful. In more ways than one. Which brought her back to her original problem. She had just slept with her boss. What was she going to do? Skinner watched the momentary amusement fade from her eyes, to be replaced by a look of anxiety and guilt. Guilt he understood. The larger issues were beginning to crowd in on him too. He had just slept with someone under his direct supervision. What was he going to do? Scully began to slide backward out of his arms, her face reflecting her emotional maelstrom. And suddenly, the pain in her eyes was more than he could bear. He pulled her back into his embrace and whispered: "Wait. We need to talk." Talk. Yes. They needed to talk. But she couldn't seem to concentrate, considering...everything. Walter Skinner was more than a little distracting at the best of times. Now...naked, well, it would be like trying to ignore an out-of-control high- speed train headed straight toward her, all whistles screaming. "I should go." Her voice was no more than a whisper. "No. Not like this." Without thinking about what he was doing, Skinner bent his head once more to her lips, kissing her infinitely more gently this time, determined to prove that he was more than the madman who had attacked her at the door. For an endless moment, Scully did not respond, then she quivered slightly and her lips parted beneath his. Skinner held himself firmly in check, caressing her lips lightly with his own, but the kiss nevertheless held more than a little desperation. Skinner knew that it was coloured by fear -- fear that she might leave him -- but he couldn't seem to suppress the emotion. He had spent a lifetime controlling his feelings, but now...now they were getting away from him. Tentatively, he ran his fingers down her body, exploring the curves that he had missed the first time around. Scully hesitated. They shouldn't be doing this...shouldn't have...but she couldn't help herself. Where Walter Skinner was concerned, she had less control than a fighter jet without a pilot. Whoever was in command of Dana Scully had obviously bailed out without a backward glance and was rapidly disappearing over the horizon. She was running on automatic pilot again, and she couldn't find it in her to care. She slid her arms sensuously around his ribcage. Skinner was gently but firmly deepening the kiss when a stray thought sliced through his mind, and he pulled away from her with a jerk. Scully's eyes flickered open in surprise. "What?" Skinner pulled even further away. What had he been thinking...? "I didn't...that is...I...didn't use any protection." He came to a stumbling halt. For an instant Scully paled, her grip on him loosening, then her mind ran through some rapid calculations, and a look of relief flitted across her face. "It's okay," she said. "It should be okay." She paused, then continued, seeing the stricken look on his face. "It's not your fault. I...I didn't think of it either." That didn't help. Skinner still felt like a...well, there were no polite words for what he felt like. Irresponsible, selfish dolt. That was the least of them. He must have been insane... Scully cast him an strained half-smile. "Don't worry," she said softly, pulling out of his arms and wrapping the blanket more tightly around her, "I suppose the only thing wrong with either of us is a complete lack of...patience." Her voice rose slightly at the end of the sentence, making it into a question. Skinner stared guiltily at her. "Yes. Only a lack of patience. Nothing else." He didn't miss the brief look of relief that crossed her eyes. "Yes. Only that." They stared at each other, the mood effectively broken, passion and need no longer colouring their thoughts. With the return of reason came the knowledge that they were going to have to face what had happened. They couldn't ignore what was going on anymore. Skinner and Scully stared silently at each other, a myriad of emotions playing over their faces. * * * Scully paused a moment, then awkwardly wrapped a blanket around her body and eased herself from the bed. It was probably too late for modesty, but old habits died hard. Skinner did not move, but watched her silently, with troubled eyes. Then he reached for his jeans. Scully averted her gaze and bent down to retrieve her clothes. She followed a trail of garments back out to the living room, some his, some hers, then she vanished into the bathroom. Once there she ran the cold water and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like she had just emerged from the other end of a three-day orgy. Her lips were swollen and slightly bruised, her hair rumpled, and her eyes dark with shadows. She shivered and looked away, then rubbed cold water over her face. Okay. She couldn't avoid the issue anymore. Actually, the issue had just walked up and thumped her on the back of the head. Hard. It was time to face facts. Celeste had been wrong. Sleeping with Skinner -- *sleeping with Skinner, oh my god, what have I done?* -- had not helped. She couldn't think any more clearly now than she could half an hour ago. They still had to work together, still had a supervisor/employee relationship. This hadn't helped at all; it had only made things worse. *But it had felt so good*. Scully grimaced and stared at herself once more in the mirror. She had to talk to him as she had originally planned, had to find some sort of solution. And she really had to stop talking to herself... * * * Skinner found his shirt by the door and pulled it over his head. All he was missing now were his socks. Where...? Oh yes, under the bed. He returned to the bedroom and was reaching underneath for them when Scully appeared in the doorway. He slowly straightened, and they stared at each other awkwardly. The silence between them grew. Scully was the first to speak. "I'm missing a shoe." Inside, she cringed. Of all the things to say... Now that she mentioned it, she was standing a little lopsided. Skinner tore his gaze from her and cast his eyes around the room. There. Beneath the chair. He bent and picked it up then crossed the room to her. Wordlessly he held it out. As she took it, their fingertips brushed, and Scully shivered. Something flickered behind Skinner's eyes, and then they were several feet away from each other again. Scully looked down at the shoe in her hands and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "I'm..." "We..." They both spoke at once, then fell silent together. Scully looked up and met his gaze, unhappiness evident in her own. "I didn't plan this when I came over here," she managed to say evenly enough. "I believe you. I didn't intend to do...what I did." Scully drew a deep ragged breath. "We should talk." "I agree." This was insane. They were behaving like two polite strangers. Again. After all that had happened. Life couldn't get much more bizarre. She drew another deep breath. "Okay. I'll start." He waited expectantly. "I guess we could say we're both...fairly attracted to each other." Understatement of the century, Agent Scully, he thought silently. "I suppose...this was sort of inevitable," she continued. "And we are two consenting adults..." Very consenting, it would appear. "But we're also both professionals. We still have to work together." "What exactly are you saying?" She squared her shoulders. "I'm saying that we may have crossed the line, but that we don't have to remain on this side. Things can be as they were..." As they were? With herself hiding in the basement and launching unprovoked verbal attacks at her partner, and her senses rioting every time she laid eyes on the Assistant Director? Even now, her gaze lingered appreciatively on his chest through the open front of his shirt...Scully bit her lip and pulled herself back together. "We need to behave as professionals. And nothing more." Skinner felt a brief, irrational flare of disappointment. For an instant, only an instant, he had wanted her to forget who they were, had wanted...But no. She was right. Of course she was right. "I agree," he said. He was proud of his voice. It gave nothing away. As usual. They might have been discussing the weather. He could feel the walls around him beginning to reappear. Scully nodded, fighting the absurd sensation of sorrow that passed through her. Of course she was right. But then why did it feel so wrong? Suddenly, she felt very, very tired. She bent and slid the shoe over her foot. It was time to go. Time to try to salvage whatever professionalism still existed between them. She turned to leave. "Dana." His voice stopped her in her tracks. "You're right. About everything..." There was a pause. "But?" "But I'm not going to say I'm sorry." She looked up at him in surprise. He continued. "Oh yes, I'm sorry about...well, I'm not normally so out of control like that...and I'm sorry about the lack of precautions...but I'm not sorry." For some absurd reason, Scully was suddenly filled with a sensation of joy. He wasn't sorry. Why should that make her feel so happy? The same problems still existed, and they had just compounded them...exponentially. But...he wasn't sorry. A small smile crossed her face. "Goodnight, Walter." * * * The fleeting moment of happiness faded as soon as Scully crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it for a long moment. So much for not hiding from the situation. She was still hiding, perhaps now more than ever. She braced herself. She was doing the right thing. Wasn't she? Then why did it hurt so much? Scully couldn't answer that question. Blinking hard, she pushed herself away from the door and walked out once more into the cold, empty night. * * * Skinner watched her go and did not move to stop her, even though a part of him cried out to. She had to come to her own decisions, as did he. The thought came unbidden to his mind: "You're letting the woman you love walk out the door." A shock rippled through him. Love? What he felt wasn't love. Passion, desire, lust, maybe, but not love. He didn't love Dana Scully. Did he? Only silence and the deepening chill of the room answered him. THE END (FOR NOW - ONE MORE EPISODE TO GO!)