Subject:     Crossing the Line 7
Sent:        28/01  11:51 AM
Received:    28/01  9:29 PM
From:        Sharon Nuttycombe, avalon@terranet.ab.ca
To:          dobbo@c031.aone.net.au

Crossing the Line 7 - Brief Encounters part 1/2
Sharon Nuttycombe 
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca 
June 3, 1996 
 
************************************************************ 
 OK.  I lied.  _This_ is the second last story of " the
 Line", a Scully and Skinner romance.  There will be just one
 more after this.  Promise.  Also, this takes place in a universe
 in which Avatar never happened.  It is not NC-17. 
 
 I would appreciate any comments or criticism.  Thank you. 
 Thanks also to the many people who have e-mailed me with their
 comments.  I'm glad you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've
 enjoyed writing it.  There will be another X-Files story out
 eventually, along somewhat different lines than this (no pun
 intended), but I need to recover from this one first.

 Acknowledgements:  Many thanks to Linda Campbell, without whom
 this would have been a much poorer story (besides being a heck
 of a lot shorter!)
 
 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 7 - Brief Encounters part 1/2


	Scully paused outside the door to the basement office.  She
 felt as if she were about to enter Dante's Inferno.  Abandon
 hope, all ye who enter...or something like that.  How was she
 going to face Mulder after their argument yesterday...and after
 what had happened last night?

	Her cheeks burned red.  She must have been mad.  She had
 never lost control so thoroughly in her life.  She had done some
 stupid things before, but sleeping with Walter Skinner surely
 ranked as one of the stupidest.  Except, down deep, it did not. 
 It felt right.  As if she had belonged there with him.  It was
 almost enough to make her believe in fate.

	Fate.  There was no fate.  No unseen force controlled her
 actions.  Hormones were responsible for what had happened last
 night.  Hormones, and the sad lack of a social life.  Anyway, it
 was done.  There was no turning back time.  She had slept with
 her boss.  Now she had to live with the consequences of her
 actions.

	The first consequence had been coming into work and facing
 Mulder.  He had already made his feelings perfectly clear on the
 matter.  He thought she was a fool to become involved in an
 office romance.  "Although I really don't consider one lust
 -filled night a romance," she thought.  Still, she had to face
 him with the memory of what had happened still burning in her
 mind.  And on her body.  She might as well have hung a sign
 around her neck.  Sighing deeply, she pushed open the door and
 entered the office.

                          *     *     *

	Mulder glanced up as she entered.  His partner looked
 haggard and tense.  Shadows lined her eyes, and something about
 the set of her mouth told him she was intensely unhappy.  A
 spasm of guilt shot through him.  This was his fault.  He
 shouldn't have said what he did yesterday.  He had spent the
 entire evening regretting his words, and had even tried to call
 her in the early hours of the morning to apologize, but there
 had been no answer.  She had obviously not wanted to speak to
 him.

	Mulder had done a lot of soul-searching in the last eighteen
 hours, and had come to some fairly unpleasant conclusions about
 himself.  First, that he had obviously attended the Sylvester
 Stallone School of Diplomacy, and second that he was wrong not
 to have given Scully the benefit of the doubt.  She was his
 partner.  He should trust her judgement (even if he did think
 she was making the biggest mistake since Fox cancelled VR5). 
 Attacking her personal life and her decisions was a mistake.  A
 big one.

	"Good morning," Scully said hesitantly.

	"Good morning.  Sleep well?"

	Scully frowned.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

	Mulder blinked.  "Nothing.  Just -- I hope you slept well." 

	She narrowed her eyes and cast him a suspicious glance. 
 "Just fine.  Thanks."

	"Oh.  Good."  The conversation sputtered and died.  Scully
 wandered over to her desk and dumped her briefcase on it. 
 Mulder eyed her with some trepidation.  If she were going to
 launch another attack like yesterday's he wanted to be ready to
 duck.  Scully paused, sent him an unreadable glance, then sat
 down.  They stared at each other in silence for a moment.

	"I'm sorry," he said simply.

	Scully breathed an unconscious sigh of relief as some of the
 knotted tension eased from her shoulders.  "So am I."  She gave
 him a hesitant smile which he returned, and suddenly she felt a
 little better.  Then the memories resurfaced and her smile
 faded.  She couldn't ignore what had happened, or the fact that
 she and Skinner had not resolved anything last night - except
 perhaps a lot of sexual tension.  That still didn't take care of
 the pain searing through her being, mingling with a healthy dose
 of guilt and self-recrimination.

	Scully suddenly realized Mulder was staring at her, and she
 refocused her gaze on him.  "What?"

	"Are you all right?"

	"Yes, I'm fine.  Why?"

	He did not hesitate.  "I'm worried about you."

	Scully tightened her jaw.  "Why?  Because you think I'm
 having an affair with the Assistant Director?"  Her voice was
 sharp and accusing.

	"No.  You told me there's nothing going on between you, and
 I believe you.  Your word has always been good enough for me,
 Scully.  And besides, I should mind my own business." 

	Scully stared at him in consternation, guilt and dismay
 threatening to engulf her.  She had lied to him, and he was
 giving her a vote of confidence.  Something pricked at the
 corners of her eyes.  "Stop being so nice to me," she thought,
 "or I really will cry."  Then, the thought of Mulder's
 expression if she did burst into tears, almost made her laugh. 
 Her emotions had never felt so out of control.  Scully took a
 deep calming breath.  "Thank you," she said simply.

	"You're welcome."

	Silence fell once more, but it was not the tension-filled
 hush she had endured for the last few days.  Scully looked over
 at his desk.  He was almost hidden behind a towering pile of
 paper which was threatening to cascade to the floor at any
 moment.  Surely it had grown?  It hadn't been that large
 yesterday.

	"Can I help you with that?" she offered.

	"What?"

	She gestured.  "That paperwork."

	The look of relief he wore was almost comical.  "Yes
 please," he said, a beseeching expression on his face.  Scully
 smiled slightly, rose, and took a sheaf of papers from the top
 of the pile, causing a small avalanche in the opposite
 direction.  Mulder clutched at the pile then grimaced and let it
 fall.  The papers joined several others scattered around his
 desk.  

	Scully looked at the top sheet in her hand and frowned. 
 That didn't look right.  "Mulder," she said, flipping through
 the rest of them, "this is from Forensics.  What's it doing
 here?"

	He gave her a rueful half-grin.  "I think the entire Bureau
 has found out that I'm stuck on paperwork detail.  I've been
 receiving stuff like this since yesterday.  I'm sure some memo
 is circulating even as we speak telling people to send all their
 paperwork to me.  They're probably dancing in the aisles up
 there."

	Scully shot him a look.  "You deserve it." 

	The half-grin grew wider.  "Yes ma'am.  I surely do.  And
 I'm going to take my punishment like a man -- cowering under my
 desk."

	She felt a reluctant smile curling at the edge of her lips. 
 "Well, Mulder, you know what they say about when the going gets
 tough..."

	"Yeah.  The tough hide under tables."

	Scully laughed aloud.  It felt good to joke with him again. 
 She had missed that these past few weeks.  Her mind had been so
 distracted with...other things, that she had pushed herself away
 from her friend and partner.  She hadn't realized until now how
 much she had needed him.  Now, though, things seemed to be
 getting back to normal.  Perhaps everything would work out after
 all...But then her mind automatically returned to Assistant
 Director Skinner...and last night...and she knew nothing would
 ever be the same again.

	Mulder watched the smile fade from Scully's lips, and the
 tension around her eyes return.  Something was bothering her. 
 Something more than their argument yesterday.  But what?  For a
 moment he considered asking her straight out.  Would she answer
 him?  Once again he realized that, despite what he had said, he
 was having difficulties accepting...whatever it was he was
 having difficulty accepting.  Nothing like some good old
 -fashioned recursive logic to really confuse him.  In the end he
 said nothing, taking the coward's way out of the whole issue. 
 He bent his head once more to the small Everest of papers before
 him.

                          *     *     *

	Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner was in a worse mood
 than yesterday, if that were possible.  He stared darkly out his
 window, watching the traffic go by below.  He wasn't even making
 a pretext of working today.  Instead, he stood, hands in
 pockets, thinking fiercely.

	"Let's recap." he thought to himself.  "In the last few
 weeks I have gone on a date -- two "dates" -- with Dana Scully,
 nearly kissed her at her apartment, gotten drunk, did kiss her
 at my place, forgot I kissed her, remembered I kissed her, and
 practically dragged her in off my doorstep to make love to her
 last night.  In addition, I have let my work suffer, alienated
 my secretary, spent a lot of time avoiding practically
 everybody, and haven't slept in decades."  Life couldn't get
 much more complex.

	What was really bothering him, though, was that he had let
 her leave last night without truly resolving anything.  The
 problem still existed; he couldn't drag his thoughts away from
 her, still wanted her...and he couldn't have her.  The crowning
 point had occurred when his subconscious had suddenly informed
 him that he was in love with her...and he had been in denial
 ever since.  He pressed his fingers against the bridge of his
 nose, trying to ward off the headache appearing ominously on the
 edges of his vision.  It wasn't working.  Nothing was.  He
 removed his hand and returned his gaze to the streets below.  It
 was beginning to rain.  Wonderful.  The weather matched his
 mood.

                          *     *     *

	Lunchtime came and went.  Scully managed to rein in her
 wandering mind long enough to make a substantial dent in the
 pile of paperwork on Mulder's desk.  They had spoken little,
 both preferring to avoid any dangerous topics and so resume
 their argument of yesterday.  Of course, dangerous topics seemed
 to include everything except perhaps the stock of banana
 plantations in Costa Rica.  For a moment, Scully missed their
 former camaraderie, and she seriously considered confiding in
 her partner.  But then the idea of even broaching the topic --
 "oh, by the way Mulder, I slept with Assistant Director Skinner
 last night, and I was wondering if I could ask for some advice"
 -- made her shudder.  Scully had always been a very private
 person, and she couldn't change her spots now.  Even if she
 wanted to.  Which she didn't.  Really.

	The phone rang on Scully's desk.  She picked it up, her
 nerves too shredded to even feel any apprehension as to who it
 might be.

	"Hello?"

	"You've got to save my marriage and take me out to coffee." 
 It was Celeste.  Scully blinked.

	"Excuse me?"

	"You heard me.  I need to go out for coffee.  Now."

	"You were in the hospital two days ago.  Shouldn't you..."

	"I'll be in there again if I don't get out of the house
 right now.  Or Jack will."

	"Jack?"  Scully was beginning to feel the thread of the
 conversation getting away from her.

	"Yes.  My husband.  Jack.  He's driving me _crazy_!"

	Oh.  Scully smiled.  "I see," she said.  

	Celeste's voice rose.  "He's hovering.  Constantly.  He
 thinks I'm in mortal danger."

	Scully's smile widened a little.  "Well, you probably
 shouldn't have let him watch that episode of ER last year."

	"Please, Dana.  Let's do coffee.  Or rather, you drink
 coffee and I'll watch and drool.  While I drink _milk_."  The
 distaste in her voice was evident.

	Scully glanced at her watch.  It _was_ nearly time for a
 break.  She looked up at her partner who was obviously listening
 in on her side of the conversation while studiously writing up
 some notes.  "Should I bring Mulder?" she asked.

	"Are you two talking to each other?"  Surprise coloured
 Celeste's voice.

	"After a fashion."

	"Sure.  Why not?  Bring him along."

	Why not, indeed.  Quickly they arranged a meeting place -
 the small cafe across the street.  Scully felt a chill course
 down her back.

	"Celeste."  Her friend was just about to hang up.

	"Yes?" 

	"You haven't invited anyone else, have you?"  There was a
 long silence, then:

	"No."

	"Good."  Scully hung up the phone and looked at her partner.

	"Are you coming for coffee?" she asked.  

	"Are you asking?"

	"I'm asking."

	"Then I'm coming."  He tossed her a quick grin, threw the
 pen down on his desk and reached for his coat.  Scully stood and
 was reaching for her own coat when the phone rang once more. 
 She cast Mulder an apologetic glance then picked it up.

	"What did you forget, Celeste?" 

	There was a brief silence on the other end of the line then
 a man's voice said:

	"Agent Scully?"  It was Skinner.  Scully went cold.  

	"Um.  Yes."

	"I...could you...come up to my office please?  Alone."

	Scully choked.  "Now?"  Her voice came out in a squeak.

	"Yes.  Please."  There was a pause, then he hung up.  Scully
 stared at the receiver in her hand, her senses reeling.  

	"Are you all right?"  There was an edge of concern in
 Mulder's voice.  She tore her gaze away from the telephone and
 met his eyes.  He stood across the room, his coat half on. 
 "What is it?"

	Scully knew her face must have gone paper-white and she felt
 as if someone had kicked her.  Hard.  She had thought that 
 Skinner would spend the day trying to avoid her as much as she
 was trying to avoid him.  It seemed she was wrong.  Hastily she
 tried to get her reactions back under control.

	"Uh.  It's nothing," she managed to say.  Sure, and Elvis
 really _was_ a vampire.  "Skinner wants to see me in his office,
 that's all." 

	Mulder frowned, his investigative instincts kicking in. 
 There was something she wasn't telling him.  Actually, there was
 a lot she wasn't telling him.  Her reactions did not match her
 words.  A simple call to their supervisor's office should not
 have sparked such a response in her unless...Unless what?  What
 was going on?  He began to remove his coat.

	"I'll wait," he said simply.  

	No.  Absolutely not.  There was no way in the world Scully
 wanted to deal with her partner immediately after hearing...
 whatever Skinner had to say.  "No.  You go on.  Give Celeste my
 apologies."

	Mulder did not move.  Scully shifted uncomfortably.  "I have
 to go," she said, hoping he would take the hint.  Finally, he
 nodded and pulled his other sleeve on.  

	"Okay.  Fine.  I'll tell Celeste you said hi."

	Scully gave him a tense smile that did not fool either one
 of them, then turned and left the office, with Mulder following
 close on her heels.

                          *     *     *

	Scully watched Mulder leave the elevator and turn back to
 say something to her.  She stabbed the button and the doors
 closed behind him before he could speak.  

	She was trapped in the elevator ride from Hell.  Scully
 knew just how the doomed aristocrats felt during the Reign of
 Terror as they were taken through the streets of Paris.  Of
 course, here there were no shouting French peasants; only a thin
 weedy clerk in the corner who avoided her eyes; and no
 guillotine waiting for her at the end of the journey.  She
 hoped.  Although, given the way she felt, a nice, fast end might
 be easier than what was to come.  She began to pray that the
 elevator would get stuck.

	It did not.  The doors swung open and Scully paused on the
 threshold.  The clerk looked at her expectantly and somehow she
 managed to force her body into motion.  "'Tis a far, far better
 thing I do..." she thought randomly as she exited the elevator. 
 
	Once in motion, it was a little easier to keep going.  One
 foot moved in front of the other automatically.  All too soon,
 though, she reached the outer office.  Heart pounding, she
 entered the room.

	Kimberley looked up from her computer and said immediately:
 "He'll see you right away, Agent Scully."

	Scully could say nothing, could only stand there trapped. 
 She felt as if she were caught in quicksand and the more she
 struggled, the deeper she sank.  Her vision blurred for an
 instant.  Great.  Now she was probably going to hyperventilate. 
 She took several deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and slowly
 walked past Kimberley into Skinner's office.


                          END OF PART 1

                          *     *     *
Crossing the Line 7 - Brief Encounters part 2/2
Sharon Nuttycombe 
celtic@freenet.edmonton.ab.ca 
June 3, 1996 
 
************************************************************ 
 OK.  I lied.  _This_ is the second last story of " the
 Line", a Scully and Skinner romance.  There will be just one
 more after this.  Promise.  Also, this takes place in a universe
 in which Avatar never happened.  It is not NC-17. 
 
 I would appreciate any comments or criticism.  Thank you. 
 Thanks also to the many people who have e-mailed me with their
 comments.  I'm glad you've enjoyed reading this as much as I've
 enjoyed writing it.  There will be another X-Files story out
 eventually, along somewhat different lines than this (no pun
 intended), but I need to recover from this one first.

 Acknowledgements:  Many thanks to Linda Campbell, without whom
 this would have been a much poorer story (besides being a heck
 of a lot shorter!)
 
 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 7 - Brief Encounters part 2/2


	Mulder spied Celeste immediately.  Of course, she was hard
 to miss at the best of times.  Now though, just over eight
 months pregnant, she still looked lovely, if somewhat tense. 
 Jack sat beside her.

	Celeste watched him come nearer, her eyes unconsciously
 looking for Scully.  She tilted her head questioningly when he
 reached their table.  Mulder shrugged.

	"She was delayed.  Skinner wanted to see her."

	The expression that flitted across Celeste's face was
 remarkably similar to the one Scully had first worn when she had
 answered the phone.  Just what was going on?  Mulder hated being
 kept in the dark -- it made him feel like a mushroom.  Still, as
 a Federal Agent, he also knew when to bide his time.  Now was
 not the moment to start digging for answers.  But soon.  Very
 soon.

	Celeste looked away from Mulder toward her husband.  "Jack."

	"Yes?"  He leaned forward.

	"Go away."

	Jack smiled ruefully.  "Yes, dear."  He rose from his seat
 and spoke to Mulder.

	"Give me a call later, and I'll come back to pick her up." 

	Mulder nodded.  

	"Jack..."  Celeste's voice grew ominous.

	"I'm going, I'm going."  He looked once more at Mulder. 
 "I've been driving her crazy."  There was an apologetic tone in
 his voice.  "It is my first baby, after all."

	Celeste spoke to the empty air.  "You'd think he was the one
 who was going to be giving birth.  Some men handle the whole
 creative process much better than this."

	Jack bent to give her a swift kiss on the mouth.  "Not this
 one.  You shouldn't have let me watch that episode of ER."

	"That's what Dana said."

	"See you later."  And then he was gone.  Mulder slowly
 folded himself into the chair across from her.
	
	"Well?"  he said expectantly.

	"Well what?"

	"Well, what's going on between Scully and Skinner?"

	Celeste looked uncomfortable.  "I don't know what you're
 talking about."

	Mulder put his elbows on the table.  "You should know better
 that to try to lie to the FBI.  Didn't I already catch you on
 that video piracy thing?"

	Defensively, Celeste replied:  "If they didn't want people
 to copy movies, they should never have invented VCR's.  And it
 was only one movie."

	"It was more like thirty, and you're changing the subject. 
 What about Scully?"

	Celeste sighed and leaned back, shifting in her seat
 uncomfortably.  "You're going to have to ask her about that,"
 she said.

	"I did."

	"And...?"

	"And she said nothing's going on."

	"Well...?  Don't you believe her?"

	"Yes.  No.  I don't know."

	Celeste regarded the agent for a long moment.  "It's really
 bothering you, isn't it?"

	Mulder sighed.  "Yes.  I suppose so."  He forestalled her
 next question.  "And in answer to what you're about to say - I
 don't know why it's bothering me.  It just is."

	"So -- tell me."  Mulder said nothing.  Celeste continued. 
 "You need to talk to someone.  It will make you feel better. 
 Really."

	Mulder exhaled and leaned back.  Maybe she was right.  He
 did need to talk to someone.  And Scully wasn't available.  

	"OK," he said slowly.  "I guess I'm...afraid of losing her. 
 She means...a lot to me."  Celeste looked at him encouragingly
 and Mulder suddenly found himself talking about his partner, and
 the changes she had wrought in his life.  How, after years
 alone, he had finally found someone to trust.  Someone who
 trusted him back.  Unconditionally.  Someone who would always be
 there for him, no matter how foolishly he behaved.  Someone...

	Mulder gradually became aware that Celeste was not
 listening.  Her eyes were focused inward, a frown creased her
 forehead and her hand was unconsciously rubbing her rounded
 stomach.  He broke off what he had been saying.

	"Celeste?"

	She blinked and refocused on him, smiling waveringly.  "It's
 OK.  Just another false alarm.  Go on."

	Mulder fought down a sense of dismay and began to speak
 again at random, all the while watching her closely.  The next
 time she sucked in her breath and stiffened, he glanced at his
 watch.  Two minutes.  

	"Celeste...?"  She looked at him.  "Hospital?"

	She nodded.  "Hospital."

	The sudden burst of adrenaline that flowed through his body
 launched him out of his seat like a Saturn 5 rocket.  He helped
 her from the chair, restraining the impulse to throw her over
 his shoulder in a fireman's lift and gallop from the cafe. 
 Instead, he forced himself to remain calm.

	"Everything will be fine," he said reassuringly.  "I'll
 drive you to the hospital, and call Jack to tell him to meet us
 there."  Celeste nodded.

	"Sorry," she said as they left the cafe.  

	"For what?"

	"You were working through your feelings about Dana.  Sorry
 to interrupt."  

	Mulder smiled down at her.  "Celeste, you're in labour. 
 That's a pretty good reason to interrupt."

	"Still..."

	"You should have been a psychiatrist."  They were at the
 curb by now.

	"And miss being an archivist at the 'Smith?  I don't think
 so.  Besides, I'd hate to have to listen to other people's
 problems all day long."

	He helped her into the car.  "You listen to Scully and me." 
 He entered the driver's side and pulled out into the traffic.

	"Yeah, but your problems are so interesting."  She broke off
 and clutched her middle, her breath coming hard.  "Mulder."

	He cast her an anxious glance.  "Yes?"

	"Drive faster." 

	He gunned the engine.

                          *     *     *

	Skinner was standing by the window when Scully entered.  The
 light framed his shoulders and she felt her by-now customary
 response to the sight of him.  Stop it, she chastened herself. 
 You'd think that after last night...Thoughts of what they had
 done brought a blush to her face.

	Skinner watched her cheeks redden and knew what she was
 thinking.  Intimately.  And she knew that he knew.  This was
 getting complicated..."Have a seat.  Dana."

	He had called her Dana.  This was not going to be a business
 meeting, then.  Oh dear.  Scully sat in the chair across from
 his desk and self-consciously smoothed her skirt flat across her
 legs.  His eyes traced her movements and she hastily removed her
 hand.  He looked up and their gazes locked.  Slowly he folded
 himself into his chair.

	The setting was wrong.  There shouldn't be a desk between
 them, for what he wanted to say.  But, short of moving all the
 furniture in his office, he didn't have much choice in the
 matter.  Of course he could have gone down to the basement, but
 then there was Mulder.  He knew for a fact that Mulder would be
 there.  Skinner had sent down enough paperwork to keep the Agent
 at his desk well into the next millennium.

	"I think we..." he began.  He was interrupted by the
 insistent buzzing of his intercom.  He barely suppressed a
 growl, then, giving an apologetic glance to Scully, stabbed a
 finger at the button.

	"I thought I said I wasn't to be interrupted, Kimberley."

	"I know, Sir.  I'm sorry, but it's the Director on the
 line." 

	Skinner glanced over at Scully.  "Do you want me to go?" she
 asked.

	No!  It had taken him half the morning to get up the nerve
 to send for her.  If she left now... "No.  Please.  This will
 just take a minute."  He picked up the phone.

	Scully politely averted her gaze and focused on the picture
 on the wall, giving him at least the semblance of privacy. 
 Inside, her emotions were in turmoil.  She had been given a
 brief reprieve, but the stress of everything was getting to her
 and she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take.  Here
 she was, sitting across from her boss, the man who had left her
 practically unable to walk the night before, examining a picture
 of JFK in minute detail.  Perhaps it was all a dream.  "That's
 it," she thought.  "Any minute now, someone will step out of a
 shower and tell me the whole thing was a dream..."

	Skinner finally ended his conversation and returned the
 phone, his gaze going back to Scully.  The sharp wave of desire
 that crashed over him was entirely unanticipated.  Damn it.  How
 was he supposed to think, when all he really wanted was to
 repeat what had happened last night, here and now?  One part of
 his brain immediately began to calculate the logistics.  He
 could sweep everything off his desk, lift her onto its edge, and
 then...He gave himself a mental shake.  These are counter
 -productive thoughts, Walter.  But very enticing...He'd probably
 never look at his desk the same way again...

	He was opening his mouth to resume the conversation when the
 phone rang once more.  He glared at it and Scully shot him a
 sympathetic smile.  Sighing, he picked it up.  

	"Hello?"

	Scully once more focused inward.  Another reprieve.  Good. 
 Maybe the building would catch on fire next.  Or there could be
 an earthquake and the building would sink beneath the ground. 
 Of course, that would mean she would be trapped in here with
 him.  But was that really such a bad thing?  Scully was sure
 they could find _something_ to occupy their time while they were
 waiting to be rescued.  The desk looked sturdy enough...She
 didn't think she could blush any redder.  She was going to have
 to control these thoughts...somehow.  She realized with a start
 that he had hung up the phone and was looking at her.  "Here it
 comes," she thought.

	"Dana, I...about..."  When the phone rang again, Skinner was
 ready to wrench the device from the wall and fling it out the
 window.  Then he realized it was not his.  It was Scully's
 cellular.  She started and automatically withdrew it.  

	"Hello?"  Casting him a guilty glance, she listened for a 
 moment then said:  "OK, I'll be there" and disconnected it.  She
 met his gaze.  "That was Mulder.  He's taken Celeste to the
 hospital.  She's in labour - for real this time."

	Skinner sighed inwardly.  "Go," he said in resignation.

	She hesitated.  "Are you sure...?"

	"I'm sure.  Go.  Give Celeste my best wishes.  And Jack."

	Scully looked searchingly at him.  "I will.  Thank you." 
 And then she was gone, fleeing from his office as if all the
 hounds of hell were after her.

	Skinner leaned back in his chair and ran a tired hand over
 his eyes.  Not one, but three interruptions...and he still
 hadn't told her what he wanted to say.  Maybe fate was trying to
 tell him something...Maybe this just wasn't meant to be. 
 Feeling deflated, he turned back to the window and stared
 gloomily at the falling rain.

                        THE END (FOR NOW)

                          *     *     *