To paraphrase the Immortal Adam Pierson--it's finally happened.  I've completely lost my mind. 
If you read "Day at the Market" as closely as Caroline did, you were probably as confused as she
was over the date I put on that story.  It should have been October of _1996_, not 1995.  Sigh. 
I'll
be more careful next time.

As for this piece, it's a little unusual.  It's a series of vignettes that occur during a visit to the
National Zoo.  I wrote it this way because: 1. I've never been to the National Zoo (so excuse any
inaccuracies), and 2. transitions would have made this way too long.  So damn the transitions and
full speed ahead.

DISCLAIMER: Dana Scully, Maggie Scully, and Walter Skinner aren't mine, alas and alack. 
They belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.  Dana's niece and nephews aren't mine either. 
They belong to Bonnie's sister, Christine.  (I filled them with graham crackers and Dr. Seuss
before I put them to bed.)  Animal and Sam the Eagle also aren't mine.  They belong to the sainted
Jim Henson.

As always, thanks to Bonnie, whose advice makes these so much better!

Warning: Scully and Skinner romance under construction.

Previous Story: "Day at the Market"

                         Day at the Zoo
                               by
                        Sally Bradstreet

The National Zoo
November 19, 1996
10:15 am
     She scanned the jostling crowd with piercing blue eyes.  They were here, she knew; her
informant was always precise.  She darted around a slow-moving group of talkers, searching in
vain.  Then she heard it.
     "Aunt Dana!"
     Dana Scully's face broke into a bright smile and she dropped to one knee to gather niece
and nephews into a warm hug.  "Hi, kiddos."
     "We didn't expect to see you here," Jacob declared, his eyes and mouth round O's of
surprise.
     "I know," Dana replied, ruffling his blonde hair.  "I called Grandma this morning and she
told me you'd be here."
     "And you wanted to surprise us," Tom concluded, grey eyes smiling at her.
     "You're absolutely right."  She stood and Tom wrapped his arms around her waist. 
"Where's Grandma?"
     "She's coming with Matthew."  Amber grabbed both of her hands and began pulling her
anxiously away from the boys.  "Let's go see the elephants."
     Dana spun Amber under her arm like a dancer.  "Let's wait for Grandma, OK?"
     "But she's so slow," Amber whined.
     A masculine voice interrupted her before Dana could address her niece's lapse of manners. 
"Three children, Agent Scully?  Are you hiding a husband, too?"
     Dana turned to see the amused face of Walter Skinner.  "You should know, sir, as it seems
you're having me tailed."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Well, every time I turn around you're where I am.  The Mall.  The grocery store.  The
zoo."
     "I come to the zoo quite often, actually.  The fact that you're here is merely coincidence."
     Dana shook her head.  "I don't buy it.  Either you're having me tailed, or you're stalking
me."
     He nodded solemnly, a teasing light in his eyes.  "Oh, stalking, definitely.  Tailing you
would leave a record."
     "Of course," Dana said putting her hands on her hips and glanced down at her young
relatives to share the joke.  They weren't there.
     She spun in alarm, and found them clustered behind her, eyes wide with concern.  She
smiled reassuringly at them and herded them to stand in front of her.  "It's OK.  This is Mr.
Skinner, my boss.  He's my friend."
     The children relaxed at this pronouncement and began examining Aunt Dana's friend with
interest as she continued her introductions.
     "This is Tom.  He's Bill's oldest.  He's 8."
     Walt extended his hand.  "Hello, Tom."
     Pleased with being greeted like an adult, Tom shook the big hand firmly.  "My whole
name is William Thomas, but they call me Tom  cause it's not so confusing."
     "Good idea," Walt agreed.  Tom grinned.
     "This is Amber, Tom's sister."
     Amber latched onto Walt's other hand and attempted to use it as a swing.  "I'm 6," she
announced.
     Dana arched an eyebrow.  "She's kind of shy."
     "So I see," Walt said drily.  He lifted the girl several inches off the ground and was
rewarded by her giggle and a toothy grin.
     "This is Jacob, Charlie's oldest.  He's 4."
     From his four-year-old height Jacob looked up and up and up to Walt's face.  "You're
tall," he whispered, properly awed.
     Walt hunkered down to the boy's level.  "Is this better?"
     Jacob poked at his chin with stubby fingers.  "Will you come play with us?"
     "You'll have to ask your aunt."
     Dana was immediately besieged by three small bodies jumping up and down and
squealing, "Can he?  Can he?"
     "Can who do what?"
     Dana looked over the bouncing heads to meet the amused blue eyes of Margaret Scully. 
"Hi, Mom."  She leaned over a squirming Jacob to kiss her, then bent down to tickle the chin of
the toddler her mother was pushing in a white stroller.  "Hello, Matthew.  I made it."
     "I'm glad," Maggie said, touching her daughter's smooth cheek.  "But I repeat, can who
do what?"
     The children tried another tack, now pestering their grandmother for an answer.  "Can he
come play with us?"
     "Who?"
     "Me."  Walt suddenly stood, his regular height making him look like a lighthouse among
the gathering of Scullys.  "Good morning, Mrs. Scully."
     "You remember my supervisor . . ."
     "Mr. Skinner," Maggie supplied.  "Yes, I do.  It's good to see you again."
     Again.  The three adults flinched a little at the word.  The last time Maggie Scully had
seen Walter Skinner was when Dana had sent him as her messenger to Melissa's bedside.
     The unpleasantness of the memory that rippled between the adults was lost on the
children.  "Can he, Grandma?" Tom repeated.
     Maggie smiled at the man standing so quietly before her and touched his arm.  "Of
course."
     Walt accepted this absolution for the sin he wasn't responsible for with a smile of his own. 
"Is that OK, Aunt Dana?" he asked, the smile quirking slightly.
     Dana crossed her arms, observing both mother and boss with an unexpected sense of
relief.  "I suppose."
     "Good!"  Amber reasserted her claim on Walt's hand and began pulling him after her. 
"Let's go see the elephants."
* * * * *
     "I've always liked big cats."
     The big cat in question, a sleek ebony panther, stared back at her with clear yellow eyes.
     "Then why do you have a dog?"
     Dana glanced at him, eyes narrowed.  "I said _big_ cats.  I don't like house cats.  They're
too . . . independent."
     Walt hesitated, then placed his hand on her elbow and guided her to the next cage, this one
holding a pair of Siberian tigers.  "You don't like pets who can take care of themselves?"
     This time when she chuckled over Clyde's cannibalistic tendencies Walt shared in the
mirth.
     "A pet who can look after itself is one thing.  A pet who can't come when it's called
because it's too busy being a cat is another."
     The next cage contained a lion and lioness basking lazily in the autumn sunlight.
     "There is something to be said for unconditional doggy love," Walt agreed, "but I prefer
dogs that are slightly larger than an average sewer rat."
     "What breed do . . ."  Her question trailed off as a slight movement caught her attention.
     "Is something wrong?"  Walt asked, his voice taking on its Assistant Director tone.
     "I'm not sure," Dana muttered, pivoting slowly to scan the people passing to and fro
behind them.  So many strangers, so many unknown faces.  Then she saw them--one behind a
tree,
one behind a bench, one behind a garbage can.  She smiled and searched the crowd for her
mother.  Maggie was perched on the bench where they had left the rest of the family, grinning
widely.  She winked at her daughter and Dana bit back a laugh, turning her attention again to the
lions.
     "I should warn you, Walt," she said under her breath, "that someone else is stalking me."
     Concerned, Walt repeated her subtle performance and also saw the three giggling children
closing in on them with as much stealth as they could muster.
     "Am I in any danger?" he queried, assiduously studying the lion's twitching tail.
     She clasped her hands behind her back, deliberately shifting her position so she couldn't
see Tom's approach.  "You shouldn't be.  Unless, of course, they've been told you're a wildebeest,
too."
     "A wildebeest?"
     Dana shrugged.  "Or a foreign spy.  It depends on whether Grandma is playing  James
Bond' or  Jungle Cats'."
     Walt nodded.  "It becomes clear now."
     They waited silently until it came.
     Though she was expecting it, her niece and nephews still managed to knock Dana to the
ground, forcing the air from her lungs as they began tickling her.
     Walt watched the proceedings, grinning as one of his best agents tried ineffectually to free
herself from the clutches of the three youngsters.
     She saw him watching, and as she subdued one of Tom's arms she panted, "A little help
here, Walt?"
     "I don't know," he mumbled thoughtfully, circling the writhing bodies as if assessing the
situation.
     "Walt."  Her growl lost its impact as she began to laugh.  "Jacob!  Stop it!"
     Jacob did stop it when Walt grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him into the air.  "Why
did you attack your aunt?" he interrogated, his face an exaggerated mask of anger.
     " Cause she's a spy," he giggled, kicking at his captor's stomach.  "Grandma said!"
     "Oh," Walt replied, nodding in understanding.  "Carry on."  He deposited Jacob back on
top of the dog pile.
     "Walt!" Dana squealed.
     He shrugged.  "Sorry, Agent Scully, but I am sworn to protect my country from foreign
threats."
     "Walt, I'm going to--Ow!  Watch it, Amber!"
     Walt saluted the three junior agents and called across the lawn to their superior.  "Would
you like some popcorn, Mrs. Scully?"
* * * * *
     "Come here, kids," Walt called, and immediately three pairs of feet pattered across the
asphalt to his side.
     Throughout the course of the morning, Tom, Amber, and Jacob had discovered that Mr.
Skinner knew all sorts of cool things about animals, like how snakes swallowed rats, why zebras
had stripes, and where all the ducks went when it got cold.  Therefore, when they saw him
standing in front of a cage full of monkeys, they were more than willing to hear what he had to
say.
     "Do you know what a chimpanzee looks like, Tom?"
     Tom squinted at the furry bodies swinging from tree limbs and metal bars.  "There's one!"
he yelled, waving his arms to a black form in the corner.
     "Good job.  Now watch."  Walt walked closer to the cage and whistled.  "Hey, Harry!"
     The chimp looked up.
     "Come say hello to my friends."
     Harry bared his teeth in a wide chimp grin and began to chatter at the AD loudly.
     Jacob's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline.  "He talked to you!"
     Walt smiled.  "He's an old friend, aren't you, Harry?"
     Harry slapped his palms on the ground and screamed.
     "He answered!  He answered!"  Amber squealed, her long honey-brown ponytail bouncing
wildly behind her.
     "Did you hear that, Grandma?  Mr. Skinner knows Harry!" Tom declared.
     Maggie lifted Matthew out of his stroller and held him up to see the monkeys.  "Should we
start calling you Dr. Doolittle, Mr. Skinner?"
     He studied the petite dark haired woman for a moment before responding.  "No, but I
would like it if you called me Walt."
     "All right," she said with a soft smile, "if you'll call me Maggie."
     Dana nudged him with her elbow.  "How did you pull this off, Walt?"
     "It's not too tough when I look like his trainer," Walt replied with a wry smile, nudging
her back.
     Dana chuckled.  "Isn't it nice to feel wanted?"
     Amber tore her attention away from the still-chittering chimpanzee and threw herself at her
aunt.  "He knows Harry!"
     "I know," Dana replied, then grunted as her niece began to scramble up her body like it
was a tree.  "Amber, I'm not a jungle gym!"
     Amber just giggled and continued her climb over her aunt.
     Dana caught the little girl's knees and held her suspended upside down over her shoulder. 
"You're a little monkey, Amber.  Should we leave you here, huh?"
     Amber giggled again.  "No!  I'm not a monkey!"
     Dana dropped her shoulder, threatening to dump Amber on the ground.  Amber grabbed
onto her aunt's belt and repeated, "I'm not a monkey!"
     "Hey," Tom whined, at last satisfied that Harry wasn't going to do anything else
spectacular, "I want to play  sack of potatoes', too!"
     "Sorry, bud," Dana panted, "I'm not strong enough to lift you any more.  I can barely
manage your sister."
     "Grandma?" Tom asked, turning to the next logical choice.
     Maggie shook her head.  "I can't.  I have to push Matthew."
     Tom hesitated a moment.  There was another option.  After all, he did know about
animals, and Aunt Dana and Grandma seemed to like him.  Maybe . . .  "Mr. Skinner?" he asked
meekly.
     "Sure."
     Tom's eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "Really?"
     Walt nodded and moved closer to a bench.  "Climb aboard."
     Tom achieved a perch on Walt's right shoulder with only the briefest of stops on the bench
for a boost.  "You _are_ tall," he observed as he viewed the topsy-turvy world from almost six
feet
up.
     "What about me?" Jacob asked, his blue eyes teary.
     Walt swung around so his left shoulder was nearest the bench.  "I think I can handle it. 
Come on up."
     Jacob was soon airborne, with a little help from Grandma.
     "Well," Walt said, adjusting his load slightly, "it's time to feed the alligators, and I know
they love to eat sacks of potatoes."
     Dana swallowed a grin.  "You're right.  Let's give them these."
     The three children shrieked in terrified delight as their rides started down the sidewalk.
     Maggie followed the strange entourage, smiling as she went.
* * * * *
     "Aunt Dana is going to take us to see the panda bears, Grandma," Tom announced,
leaning against her shoulder.  "Are you coming?"
     Maggie shook her head and handed Matthew another French fry.  "Matthew hasn't
finished his lunch yet."
     "Come on, Mr. Skinner."  Amber began tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket.
     Walt remained firmly seated.  "I'm not done with my lunch, either.  If you remember, I
was telling you about pandas while you were eating."
     "Eat later," Amber insisted.
     "Amber!" Dana said sharply.  "Let Mr. Skinner eat."
     The girl released her grip on Walt and took the hand that Dana held out toward her. 
"Sorry," she mumbled.
     "I'll come as soon as I'm done, all right?" Walt offered.
     Amber grinned, placated.  "OK."
     Jacob grabbed Dana's other hand and asked, "Will they be eating bamdoo?"
     "Bamboo," Dana corrected with a laugh.  "Come on, Tom.  The pandas are waiting."
     Tom jumped up and ran.  "This way!"
     Maggie watched her children troop off with a loving smile.
     "You have a wonderful family, Maggie."
     She turned to Walt, her smile changing only slightly.  "Thank you."  Matthew whimpered
and she gave him another fry.  "Do you have any family, Walt?"
     "I have a brother in Texas.  He has two boys a couple of years older than Tom."  Walt
paused, toying his hamburger wrapper.  "Unfortunately I don't get to see them much."
     Maggie heard the loneliness in his deep voice and smiled again, gently this time.  "That's
too bad.  You really have a way with kids."
     He shrugged, but was pleased with the compliment.  "They're only impressed because I'm
a novelty.  If I spent more time with them I'd lose my high standing."
     "Oh, I don't know," Maggie replied as she helped Matthew drink root beer through a
straw.  "You're willing to get dirty with them, and kids respect that."
     "Dirty?"
     She gestured to his once pristine blue T-shirt.  "The sno-cone was Jacob's, the cotton
candy was Tom's, the graham crackers were Matthew's, the chocolate was Amber's, and I believe
the mustard was from Dana's hot dog."
     Walt studied the colors splashed across his chest and sighed.  "I look like a piece of
modern art."
     "You look like a father," Maggie corrected, eyes dancing merrily.
     He flushed slightly, searching the crowd in front of the panda area for the small knot of
Scullys.  "Maybe," he said, his voice a little wistful.
     Maggie was too wise to mention that his eyes kept drifting from her grandchildren to her
daughter.  She smiled again, considering.
* * * * *
     "Jacob," Dana called over the din of the petting zoo, "stop chasing that goat or you're
going to make it mad."
     Heedless of his aunt's warning, Jacob continued to tease the small grey animal, pulling on
its ears.
     "He's going to get butted," Walt predicted.
     "It'll serve him right."  She bent over, unbuckled the strap keeping Matthew in his stroller,
and lifted him into her lap.  "Oof!  You're getting so big.  Can't you walk all day on your own
yet?"
     Matthew grinned like a mad jack-o-lantern and reached for his aunt's nose.
     "Here, Dana.  I'll take him."
     "Are you sure, Mom?" she asked, handing the squirming 18 month old over.  "You've
been carting him around all day."
     Maggie's eyes darted from her daughter to the sternly handsome man sitting next to her. 
"I don't mind.  We'll go see the bunnies.  Matthew likes bunnies."  She took the little boy's hand
and they walked toward the low-fenced rabbit cages.
     Dana's chance to reflect on her mother's behavior disappeared when Amber yelled, "Look,
Aunt Dana!"  She was running around the enclosure as fleetly as any deer with a fawn at her
heels.
     "I see, honey," she responded with a smile.
     Beside her Walt sighed.  "Did I ever have that much energy?"
     Dana chuckled.  "All Scully children have energy like that.  They'll outgrow it around high
school."
     Walt leaned back, propping his elbows up on the picnic table, his shoulder brushing hers. 
"Were you like that?" he asked, gesturing to Amber, who was now being pursued by Tom as well.
     "Actually, I was worse.  I was a tomboy, too."
     He considered this for a moment, trying to envision Dana as anything but the woman he
knew.  Even clad in faded jeans and sweatshirt like she was now, she still exuded femininity.  The
image of her in overalls and pig tails didn't hold.  "Really?"
     "Mmm-hmm," she answered, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear.  "I was the best
shot in the neighborhood, could climb all of the tallest trees to the very top, and I beat up
Jonathan
Miller twice."
     "Was he the school bully?"
     Dana nodded, her eyes misty with memory.  "He pushed Missy down on the playground
once and then laughed at her."
     "So you punched him?"
     "Right in the nose.  It bled beautifully."
     Walt smiled, suddenly able to see her as a tomboy after all.  "And the second time?"
     "When he tried to get even with me for his new  sissy' nickname."  She flashed a purely
evil grin.
     Walt laughed.  "No wonder you're such a good agent.  You've had practice.  But," he
continued, waving back at Jacob, who was now tormenting a sheep, "I don't think we'd have
gotten along as kids."
     She arched an eyebrow at him.  "Why not?"
     He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially in her ear, "Because I was the best shot in
my neighborhood, too."
* * * * *
     "Are you sure that was a good choice for him?" Walt asked as he watched Matthew spread
vanilla ice cream all over his face as he tried to find his mouth.
     "If you recall, it wasn't my choice," Dana replied, barely catching the cone before Matthew
dropped it over the side of his stroller.  "Mom bought it for him before she took the other kids
into
the aviary."  She returned the treat to the toddler's grubby grasp, then glanced at her companion. 
"You could have gone with them, Walt.  Matthew and I are fine by ourselves."
     "I know," Walt answered, observing sympathetically as Dana wrestled with child and ice
cream.  "But I thought you might like the company."
     "Thanks."  She gave him a smile, the luminous one she used only on special occasions,
and Walt felt amply rewarded for his actions.
     A soft squish heralded Matthew's decision to deposit his ice cream in his lap.  "Matthew,"
Dana growled, once again righting his dessert, "you are a mess, did you know that?"
     Matthew grinned and patted at her face with sticky fingers.
     She sat up, grimacing, and wiped at her cheek.  "Thank you, Matthew."
     Walt chuckled at her blind effort to clean herself off.  "Here, let me."  Holding her chin
steady with one hand, he gently wiped the cool white rivulets from her cheek and hair.  "There. 
All done," he whispered, his hand lingering on her jaw.
     Their eyes met and held, and Dana found that she couldn't thank him.  All she could do
was think about how warm his fingers were against her skin.
     A wail from Matthew broke the connection between them and each pulled back, smiling a
bit sheepishly but without embarrassment.
     Matthew wailed again as Dana found the cause of his distress.  "Sorry, buddy," she
declared as she retrieved the cone, which had at last landed on the asphalt, and tossed it into a
garbage can.  "That was your last chance."
     Walt surveyed the messy little boy and stood up, jerking his thumb at the nearby ice cream
stand.  "I'll get some more napkins."
     She started dabbing at the squirming child with the napkin Walt had used on her.  "Good
idea."
     Dana's determined attempt to clean Matthew's flailing hands was interrupted by a loud
feminine voice behind her.  "He's a doll."
     She glanced over her shoulder.  "Excuse me?"
     A young woman with curling blonde hair dimpled at her.  "The baby.  Even covered with
ice cream he's a cutie."
     Dana rolled her eyes slightly.  "He's something, all right."
     "You're husband's great, too," the woman continued blithely.  "How long have you been
married?"
     "Husband?" Dana echoed, confused, then realized with a jolt that the woman was referring
to Walt.  "I, I mean, we, uh . . ."
     The woman laughed, pushing her hair back from her forehead with crimson-enameled
fingertips.  "Not very long, I guess."
     "We aren't--" Dana began, but was cut off when Walt returned.
     "Here, sweetheart," he said, handing her a stack of folded white paper.  "These should
help."
     Dana raised an annoyed eyebrow at him, but he just winked.  "Thank you, dear," she
mumbled, focusing her attention on the baby.
     The woman smiled.  "Have a good afternoon," she called as she sauntered away.
     When Dana was sure the woman was out of ear shot she hissed, "Why didn't you tell her
the truth?"
     Walt shrugged and captured one of Matthew's hands.  "It would have been more effort
than it was worth.  Besides," he added, polishing the child's chubby thumb, "she was right about
one thing."
     Dana stopped wiping up long enough to pin him with a blue glare.  "And that would be?"
     "That I'm great."
     He said it with such authentic earnestness that Dana almost laughed.  Instead she reached
into the basket behind the stroller and extracted a green and white diaper bag.  "OK, darling," she
cooed with a saccharine smile.  "If you're so great you can change Baby this time."
     Walt reluctantly took the bag and looked Matthew over with a frown.  "Great."
     Then Dana did laugh.
* * * * *
     "I'm impressed, Walt," Dana said, plopping down on the bench beside him and giving his
knee a friendly pat.
     "Why is that?"  He raised his eyebrow in deliberate imitation of her.
     She ignored it.  "You can keep up with them."  She nodded to her niece and nephews, who
were waiting as patiently as they could for Maggie to help them at a drinking fountain.  "They
exhaust most newcomers in an hour or two.  You're survived the whole day.  Congratulations."
     Walt rested his arms on the back of the bench, his hand drifting across her back as he did
so.  "It's not me.  It's all that Bureau training.  I knew it would be useful one day."
     Dana leaned back against his arm.  "I'm sure that helped, but it's more than that.  You
have a knack for dealing with them."
     "They're great kids," he remarked softly.
     "They are.  And they really like you."  Before he could contradict her she continued,
"They've even paid you the highest compliment kids that age can."
     She paused and he obligingly prompted, "Which is?"
     Dana grinned.  "They compared you to a Muppet."
     Walt groaned.  "Don't tell me.  Sam the Eagle, right?"
     "Yeah.  How did you know?"
     He pulled off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose.  "My nephews have made
the same observation."
     Dana had seen him rub his nose like that countless times, so many times, in fact, that she
and Mulder privately referred to the gesture as  pulling a Skinner'.  But as she watched him do it
now in the fading sunlight she began to giggle.
     He looked at her in surprise.  "What?"
     "They're right!" she choked.  "When you do that, you look just like him, when he puts his
wing over his face and shakes his head."  She tried to swallow her laughter, but it kept erupting in
short bursts.  "And you both sound so gruff.  And he's got that little fringe of feathers around his
head and you . . ."  She pointed at his own bald pate and giggled again.
     "Are you done now?" Walt asked gruffly, trying to keep the corners of his mouth from
turning up.
     Dana took a deep breath and wiped at her watering eyes.  "I'm sorry, Walt, but it's just
true enough to be ridiculous.  I'm sorry," she repeated.  "I won't bring it up again."
     Walt studied her for a moment, taking in her bright eyes and tousled red hair, then said,
"You look rather like a Muppet yourself."
     "Which one?"
     He reached out and flipped an auburn lock into her face.  "Animal."
     She gave an indelicate snort.  "Thank you for that."
     "Let's get a second opinion."  Walt waved at the children.  "Hey, kids, I need your help." 
Almost immediately three small forms were draped over him.
     "What?" Tom asked, anxious to be helpful.
     "Don't you think your Aunt Dana looks like Animal?" Walt asked, all seriousness.
     "On Muppets?" Jacob asked, his face twisted in confusion.
     "On Muppets," Walt confirmed.
     Amber tilted her head and considered this.  "Maybe."
     Dana jumped up and towered over her niece.  "Oh, really?"
     Amber giggled.  "Uh-huh."
     "I'll get you for that," Dana growled.  She began to chase her, chanting, "Am-ber!  Am-ber!"
     Maggie appeared at Walt's side and watched daughter and granddaughter cavort about the
lawn like puppies.  "Who started it this time?"
     "I'm afraid I did," Walt confessed with a smile.
     Maggie squeezed his shoulder.  "Good for you."  She watched a moment longer, then
shouted, "All right, girls.  Let's go home."
* * * * *
House of Maggie Scully
8:15 pm
     "Is he asleep yet?" Maggie asked, bringing a loaded tray in from the kitchen.
     Dana looked down at Matthew, who was curled up like a comma against her chest.  "I
can't tell from this angle, and I'm afraid he'll wake up if I move him."
     Maggie set a cup of tea on the table near Dana's elbow, then stooped over to peek at her
grandson's face.  "He's almost there.  He has a hard time when he's away from his mom."
     Dana took a sip from her steaming cup, then resumed her rhythmic stroking of Matthew's
corn silk hair.  "How about the other kids?"
     Maggie settled into an armchair with a sigh.  "Well, once I finally got them tucked in, it
took them all of 30 seconds to drop off.  Today really wore them out."
     "And they really wore me out," Dana replied, succumbing to a huge yawn.  "I don't know
how Jennifer and Lisa do it."
     "It's different when they're your own children.  You learn to handle each one as they come
along, and then when they're all together as a group they're not so bad.  That's how I managed to
survive the four of you," Maggie concluded with a wink.
     "True."
     Mother and daughter sat quietly, sipping tea and listening to the soft rush of the baby's
breathing.  At last Maggie said cautiously, "He's charming."
     "Who is?" Dana asked, shifting Matthew slightly in her arms.
     "Walt Skinner.  I was quite impressed with him."
     Dana eyed her mother suspiciously.  "Really?  How so?"
     "He's intelligent, courteous, good with the kids."
     Dana recognized her mother's tone and the deceptively serious expression in her eyes; she
just hadn't experienced them since high school when she had announced that she had a crush on
Scott Hall.  "Did anything else impress you?"
     "What?"  Maggie glanced up, all innocence.  "Oh, I think he's rather handsome.  Don't
you?"
     "Hmm."
     Not content with that noncommittal response, Maggie gently pressed a little further.  "It
seems like the two of you are friendly."
     Determined to give her mother as little encouragement as she could, Dana replied,
"Mmm-hmm."
     "Have you gone out at all?"  Maggie's attention was seemingly focused on the flames
dancing on the hearth.
     "Not really."
     "What does that mean?  You've had dinner?  Seen a movie or two?"
     "Coffee sometimes.  Lunch once."
     Maggie arched an eyebrow.  "You're not being cooperative, Dana."
     Dana smiled sweetly.  "I know."
     Maggie appraised her youngest daughter with a practiced eye.  Of all her children, Dana
was the most stubborn, the most reluctant to act when it came to matters of her own personal
happiness, and as always, Maggie felt compelled to give her a nudge in the right direction. 
"Dana," she began.
     "You know, Mom," Dana interrupted, "if you're that attracted to him I do have his home
number.  You can give him a call."
     Maggie blinked rapidly in surprise.  "Dana Katherine Scully, did you just tell me to butt
out?"
     Dana stood, the now-sleeping Matthew slumped over her shoulder.  "Yes."
     "All right," Maggie relented, holding up her hands in surrender.  "I'll butt out."
     "Thank you," Dana said, striding up the stairs.
     "For now," Maggie added under her breath, and picked up her book.
     Upstairs, as Dana pulled the blanket over Matthew in his make-shift crib, part of her
fervently hoped that her mother would butt out entirely.  And part of her didn't.
                            The End
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Lions and tigers and bears!  Oh, my!"  --_The Wizard of Oz_


-------------------------------------------------------------------------

OK, I must confess.  This story actually takes place on two days, but who's counting?  Besides
me, I mean.  And it is, as you've guessed by the title, a Christmas story.  It's a little odd writing
about Christmas in July, but I think I pulled it off.

WARNING: Scully/Skinner romance ahead.  (This is where it starts getting good!)

DISCLAIMER: Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder, Kimberly, and Maggie Scully are all
the products of the fevered minds of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions.  Dirk Pitt (TM) and Al
Giordino are the products of the fevered mind of Clive Cussler.  Please don't sue me, Mr. Carter
and Mr. Cussler!  I'm not trying to make any money!  I wouldn't use your characters if I didn't
love  em, and I promise not to keep  em!  Really!

Thanks to Bonnie, who never seems to tire of listening to me blather on about this.

Comments and effusive praise to Sally c/o amstone@ix.netcom.com.

Previous Story: "Day at the Zoo"

                        Day of the Magi
                              by 
                        Sally Bradstreet
X-Files Division
December 16, 1996
11:41 am
     Dana Scully sat behind her desk, staring at the memo.  Like any of the hundreds of memos
that had crossed her desk during her years with the FBI, this had been produced by a standard
government laser printer in the basic Times New Roman font on regulation division letterhead. 
Like the others it had been slipped into an inner office envelope by an efficient secretary and
dropped on her blotter by an equally efficient mail clerk.  It was all quite normal.
     Even the information it contained was to be expected at this time of year:
          The Bureau Christmas Party will be held on December 23, 1996
          at 7:00 in the Hilton Banquet Hall.
          Please purchase a gift for:
     The name had been filled in with a blue pen, and Dana thought she recognized it as
Kimberly's handwriting.  She read the name again: Skinner, Walter S.
     She put her name in the Gift Exchange Box every year, though she knew Mulder didn't. 
Dana had enough acquaintances within the department that she felt comfortable doing so,
knowing that whoever's name she drew she'd be able to find a suitable gift for them.
     Skinner, Walter S.
     Dana had planned on getting Walt a present anyway.  She always got Christmas presents
for her good friends, and spent weeks looking for just the right gift for each one.
     She smiled, creasing the memo between her fingers.  She and Walt _were_ good friends,
though neither of them would have predicted it based on their early meetings.  Dana's first
impression of Walt had been that of a martinet interested only in regulations and in placing as
many obstacles in the path of the X-Files as he could.  Little by little, however, he had proven this
impression to be false--telling her where to find Mulder in Alaska, standing up to Cancerman for
them after the nonsense in New Mexico, investigating Missy's death--and now Dana felt . . .
     Frowning slightly, she smoothed the memo out on the surface of her desk.
     Skinner, Walter S.
     Dana sighed.  She honestly didn't know how she felt about Walt.  She enjoyed talking
with him, and she found herself looking forward to the rare occasions when they met outside the
office more and more.  But beyond that . . .
     She sighed again.  If only this gift exchange didn't feel so contrived.   If I believed in
Fate,' she thought,  I'd swear it was conspiring against me.'
     Suddenly, an image of Melissa formed in her mind, and Dana could almost hear her
sister's laugh.  The image clung for a moment, eyes dancing, lips curved in a teasing smile, then
dissipated like fog after sunrise.
     Dana rolled her eyes heavenward.  "If this is your doing," she muttered, waving the memo
at the ceiling, "I hope you're enjoying yourself."
     "Who are you talking to, Scully?"
     She looked down guiltily, cheeks flushing slightly.  "Myself," she replied glibly, quickly
regaining her mental stance.  "I think you're rubbing off on me."
     Fox Mulder sauntered to her desk and leaned over her with a leer.  "I can't take the blame
for this, Scully.  You won't let me rub anything on you."
     A paperclip made a direct hit on his forehead and he stood up, pouting.  "Careful, Scully. 
You could put a guy's eye out like that."
     Scully ignored his grousing.  "Did you talk to the technicians in Ballistics?"
     He took her trench coat from the rack near the door and tossed it to her.  "Yup.  The gun's
a match."
     The memo momentarily forgotten, Scully shoved her arms into her coat and checked her
own weapon.  "Great.  Let's go."
* * * * *
Office of Walter S. Skinner
December 20, 1996
1:25 pm
     He finished the report and closed the file folder with a satisfied nod.  "When is Jorgensen's
trial?"
     "In January.  He's already been arraigned, but they're waiting on the extradition of another
witness."
     Walter Skinner set the file aside and again appraised the two agents sitting on the other
side of his desk.  Scully was cool and professional as always, confident that her work was clean
and logical.  Mulder was tense and sullen as always, waiting for what he saw as the inevitable
dressing down.  I should give him one,' Skinner thought,  just for wearing that tie.'     
     Instead, he gave them what they deserved, and something he felt they didn't get often
enough, especially from him.  "Well done."
     They blinked.
     "Excuse me?" Mulder asked.
     "I said well done," Skinner repeated.  "You were able to solve this case in two weeks.  The
first agents assigned to it didn't get a solid lead in a month.  Your work was very impressive."  He
stood and gestured toward the door.
     His agents followed, a little bewildered.  Finally Mulder spoke.  "Praise from AD Skinner? 
That's almost enough to make me believe in the spirit of Christmas."
     Skinner scowled.  "Don't press your luck, Agent Mulder.  I do have a question or two on
your expense report."
     Mulder held up his hands.  "I didn't say a word."
     Scully ushered her partner through the door Skinner held open for them.  "Thank you, sir." 
She gave him a look that said  I can't take him anywhere' and Skinner choked on his laugh.
     "Are you all right, sir?"  The swift clicking of Kimberly's keyboard stopped as she looked
up in concern.
     "I'm fine, Kimberly," Skinner replied, clearing his throat.
     "Good."  She stared fixedly at the trio clustered in the doorway.
     Skinner, Scully, and Mulder froze, exchanging wide-eyed, questioning glances.
     "Is there a problem, Kimberly?" Skinner queried, wondering if there was soup on his tie.
     "No, sir."
     "Do you need something?" Mulder quizzed, wanting desperately to make sure his pants
were zipped up.
     "Nope."
     "Then what?" Scully all but demanded, sure that she must have lipstick on her teeth.
     Kimberly grinned like a madwoman and pointed skyward.
     Three sets of eyes raised and widened.  Above their heads, tied with a festive red bow,
hung a sprig of mistletoe, dusky green and heavy with berries.
     Skinner tried not to glare as he shifted his gaze to his assistant.  "Kimberly?"
     "You gave me permission to decorate the office if you'll recall, sir."
     Three sets of eyes traveled around the outer office.  A leafy poinsettia on her desk.  A
miniature Christmas tree covered with tiny colored lights on the filing cabinet.  A holly garland
above the window.  Each was classic, tasteful, making the room festive without being gaudy.
     "Well," Kimberly asked, bringing them back to the problem at hand, "who's going to kiss
her first?"
     It was then that Dana Scully realized she was in the unenviable position of standing
between the two men.  She could feel them sizing each other up like rival curs in an alley, each
tensing and preparing to fight though neither moved.
     "Oh, for heaven's sake," she sighed, exasperated.  Reaching up, she grabbed each man by
the nearest ear and pulled their heads down to her level.  They yelped in surprise, then subsided as
she bestowed first Mulder, then Walt with a kiss on the cheek.
      Even their stubble is different,' Dana reflected, pressing her lips together.  Mulder's cheek
was already prickly with his infamous 5 o'clock shadow while Walt's cheek was still relatively
smooth.  She wondered idly if he shaved with a straight razor as she stepped away, leaving
partner
and superior silent and slack-jawed under the mistletoe.
     Kimberly laughed and circled her desk to squeeze Scully's shoulder.  "Nice job."
     Scully shrugged.  "It's a gift."
     "Hey, Kimberly," Mulder called, "we're still under the kissing bush over here."
     "So you are," Kimberly said with a wink at Scully.  She crossed the floor and Mulder bent
down to receive her chaste kiss on his cheek.  Skinner, however, swept his secretary into his arms,
dipped her, and kissed her soundly on the mouth.
      Now why didn't I think of that?' Dana thought as she watched this performance.   Then
again, I'd never be able to dip him . . .'  She abruptly stopped that line of thought, deciding that
fantasizing about kissing Walter Skinner was her signal to leave.
     "Come on, Mulder.  Unless you want to kiss him, too."  She raised an eyebrow, daring
him to respond as she moved into the hall.
     "Thanks, but no," Mulder replied, following his partner.  "Geez, Scully," he asked as they
walked toward the elevator, "what did they put in that cafeteria eggnog?"
     Skinner waited until the two agents were on the elevator, then turned to his secretary. 
"You're not going to report me to Personnel for sexual harassment, are you?"  His tone was
teasing, but his eyes were serious.
     Kimberly shook her head, matching his expression.  "No, sir.  If you promise not to tell my
father, that is.  He thinks that working here I'm safe from types like you."
     He smiled and held out his hand.  "We have a bargain."
     She shook his hand firmly and offered him a file.  "Agents Hunter and Hendrickson will
be here in 10 minutes."
     "Thank you, Kimberly."  He went back into his office and perched in his chair, prepared to
scan the report before his next agents arrived, but his mind kept wandering.
     Why had he kissed Kimberly like that?  Such unprofessional behavior was inexcusable,
but there had to be something that had prompted it.  Walt went over the moment again, trying to
pinpoint exactly when he had lost his mind.  Then he remembered the look on Dana's face when
he had released his assistant.
     Dana.  That was it.  As their friendship continued to develop, he felt more and more
comfortable with her, letting her see the more light-hearted facets of his personality, facets that he
had almost forgotten he had.  Obviously he was going to have to keep those facets under tighter
control when he saw her in the office or suffer a repeat of this afternoon.  But it had made her
smile . . .
     Walt took off his glasses, leaned back in his chair, and tried to decide, for not the first
time, just how he felt about Dana Scully.  She was an intelligent, talented agent who was fiercely
loyal to those she cared about and dedicated to finding the truth.  These were the qualities that
had
first caught his attention when he had met her, and they were the bedrock of his friendship with
her.  But did they explain why he had wished for a split second that Dana had been in his arms
instead of Kimberly?
     He sighed.  He and Dana were friends, but did his feelings extend beyond that?  He didn't
know, and now was not the time to explore it.  Skinner picked up glasses and file and settled back
to work.
* * * * *
J. Edgar Hoover Building Parking Garage
Same Day
6:15 pm
     Dana tossed her bulging briefcase onto the passenger's seat and slid behind the wheel of
her car with a sigh.  Just once she'd like to leave for a vacation on time and without a stack of files
to haul along.
     "Agent Scully!"  Her name echoed weirdly off the cement support pillars.  "Wait!"
     "And without someone calling me back from the brink of freedom," she muttered. 
Reluctantly she stepped out of her car and turned to find the speaker.  And smiled.  "AD Skinner,"
she called, "can I help you with something?"
     Walt returned her smile as he crossed the empty parking slots stretching between her car
and his own.  "No.  I just wanted to thank you."  He held up a package wrapped in red and green
striped paper.  "I didn't expect to get a gift so early."
     Dana closed her car door and leaned against it.  "Well, I'm not going to be here for the
party and I wanted to be sure you got your present."
     "Can I open it now?" he asked, his brown eyes as anxious as a child's.
     "If you'd like," she said with an indulgent chuckle.
     Walt tore through the wrappings, stopping only long enough to stuff the discarded paper in
his pocket.  He studied the book he had revealed and smiled again.  "Clive Cussler.  I haven't read
a Cussler novel in years."
     Dana's face fell a little.  "You know Clive?  Oh, and I thought I was being so original.  I
didn't think anyone I knew read Cussler."
     The cover boasted a 1930's airplane buried in a sand dune.  "_Sahara_.  This isn't his
latest, is it?"
     "No, but it's my favorite.  And Cussler's theory on the Lincoln assassination would even
make Mulder think twice."
     "Really?"  He flipped the book open and found Dana's neat, curving writing slanting
across the front page.  "Walt," he read aloud.  "The next time Mulder and I are giving you grief
remember--you could be the supervisor of these two.  Dana, Christmas 1996."  He shook his
head. 
"You've got a point.  If I may so nosy, when did you start reading Cussler?"
     "In college," Dana explained.  "Bill introduced me to him and I try to submit as many
people as I can to him.  I've only succeeded in converting one college roommate, but I keep
trying."  Her voice trailed off when she realized that Walt was scrutinizing her closely.  "What?"
     Walt squinted at her.  "I'm just wondering if you'd ever run off with Dirk Pitt if the
opportunity presented itself."
     Dana laughed.  "No.  Dirk's not my type.  But," she wagged her finger at him to
emphasize her words, "if _Al_ ever landed his helicopter on the roof of this building, label me an
X-File because you'd never see me again."
     "In that case I'll have to remember to have any turquoise-painted helicopters that might be
hovering around shot down."  She giggled and he nodded in the direction from which he had
come.  "I've got your present in my car."
     It wasn't until they stood beside his sleek grey sedan that Walt discovered he had taken
Dana's hand without thinking, entwining his long, broad fingers with her shorter, delicate ones. 
He released his hold on her with a start and fumbled with his keys.  "It's, uh, in the trunk."
     Dana nodded and stepped back, cheeks slightly flushed.  Her hand curled itself into a fist,
trying to retain the warmth of his touch as she peered over his shoulder and into the open trunk. 
"You're a regular Father Christmas," she remarked.
     He shrugged as he carefully dug through the bright riot of paper and bows that filled the
trunk.  "I took a long lunch and got the rest of my shopping done today."  At last he straightened
up, triumphantly displaying four packages.  "Here we go."
     "Walt, I--"
     "No," he interrupted, holding up a hand to forestall her comment.  "These aren't all for
you.  This one, " he placed a box without a bow in her upturned palm, "is for Clyde.  It's a box of
doggie treats."
     Dana shook her head.  "I didn't even get Clyde a present."
     Walt simply looked at her and she broke down, blushing.  "OK, so I got him two.  Well,
three."
     "I thought so.  These are for the kids."  He gave her two rectangular packages, wrapped in
identical Santa Claus-sprinkled paper.  "They're videos on jungle animal.  I thought they might
enjoy them."
     She fingered the slick paper wonderingly, her eyes shining with surprise and pleasure. 
"Walt, you didn't have to do this.  They don't expect anything from you."
     "I know."  His eyes met hers, smiling.  "And this one's yours."
     Dana slipped the other packages into various pockets of her trench coat and took her gift. 
It was wrapped in pristine white tissue paper and tied with a metallic gold ribbon.  She peeled the
paper away from a leather bound book and her face broke into a wide smile.  "_Pride and
Prejudice_.  This is one of my favorite books."
     She randomly turned the pages, pausing to study an illustration.  "This is a beautiful
edition, Walt.  Thank you."  She considered kissing him on the cheek again, but decided against
it.  "Thank you," she repeated.
     Walt flashed a pleased grin, thrilled that his gift had made her eyes light up like that.  "I'm
glad you like it.  Your mother did mention that you are too much like Elizabeth Bennett for your
own good, though."
     "That's true.  I--" Dana stopped and raised a wary eyebrow.  "You talked to my mother?"
     "Mmm-hmm," Walt responded, amused that Maggie's prediction of her daughter's
reaction to that announcement was so accurate.  "Well, I needed some suggestions on what you
might like after I decided against the toboggan."
     Dana's laugh rang out though the garage as she remembered the limerick Mulder had
written about her.  "I'll get more use out of the book, I assure you."
      Too bad,' he thought as he ran his gaze appreciatively over her trim figure.  Then he
slammed the lid firmly down on that Pandora's box.  "Your mother said you're going up to
Maryland for the holidays."
     She looked up from her book, oblivious to the thoughts that had played out so clearly
across his face.  "Yes. Bill and Jennifer moved into a big new house this summer, but now Bill's
somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, and we want to make sure that this first Christmas is as full of
happy memories as possible.  The holidays are always hard when someone is out to sea."  Her
voice was heavy with sympathy bred of experience.
     "Is the whole family going?"
     Dana nodded her head ruefully.  "Unfortunately for Jennifer.  Mom even managed to
convince Mulder to come up for a couple of days."
     Walt already knew this.  Maggie had told him just before she had extended a similar
invitation to him.  "There's always room for one more, Walt.  Are you sure you won't come?"  It
was an invitation he had turned down with a great deal of reluctance. 
     "Do you trust the children around him, Dana?" he asked.  "Mulder is awfully accident
prone."
     "Actually, I'm more worried about what the kids will do to him.  It ought to be interesting
to see what happens."  Dana paused, tucking her book in the crook of her elbow and feeling
rather
like a schoolgirl.  "What about you, Walt?  What are you doing for the holidays?"
     "My brother and his family are flying in tomorrow.  They'll be staying with me all week." 
He smiled, already anticipating playing tour guide for his family.  "This is the first time they've
been able to stay so long."
     "That's wonderful," Dana replied, but with a vague sense of disappointment.   Well, what
were you going to do if he didn't have plans?' she asked herself irritably.   Ask him to come
along?  I'm sure Jennifer would have loved to take care of another of your platonic male friends.' 
"I bet they can't wait to get here."
     "_I_ can't wait for them to get here," he corrected.  "There's something about family and
Christmas . . ."
     "I understand."  Dana smiled, then glanced at her watch.  "I've got to go.  Mom's waiting
for me."
     They stood silently for moment, shifting their weight from foot to foot.
     Finally Walt moved, leaning down to kiss her cheek.  "Merry Christmas, Dana."
     "Merry Christmas, Walt."  She held his eyes, then looked away, suddenly shy.  "Good-bye." 
She headed toward her car wishing . . .  She didn't know what.  She just placed her new
book on top of her briefcase and drove away.
     "Good-bye."  Walt watched her walk away as he unlocked his car and settled in behind the
wheel.  Maybe next Christmas . . .  He didn't finish the thought, just closed his door and drove
away.
                            The End
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------
"She thinks I'm cute!"--Rudolf in _Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer_

Next Story: "Day with Tom and Crow"

"Day of the Magi"
Sally Bradstreet
amstone@ix.netcom.com
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------

In the words of the lovely Hippolyta, "This is the silliest stuff that ever I heard."  Yes, this latest
installment in my "Day" series is most definitely very silly.  And a little cheesy.  And pure mind
candy.  And full of inside jokes.  You've been warned.

Forgive me, Chris Carter, for I have sinned.  I have given Dana Scully and Walter Skinner, your
property, some of my personality quirks.  They didn't seem to mind at the time, so hopefully I will
not be punished for this.  Forgive me also, Best Brains, for borrowing your snide little  bots and
your snide little show.  (If you've never seen it, don't panic.  You'll still get the story.)

Many thanks to Bonnie Drew as always, who is largely responsible for Skinner's movie
collection.  And if you haven't seen _THEM!_, you really must put it on your list as it is a
grandaddy to _The X-Files_.

Comments to Sally c/o amstone@ix.netcom.com

Bobby Coakley, this one is for you. [And you know which lines are yours. ;-)]

Previous story: "Day of the Magi"
                                
                     Day with Tom and Crow
                               by
                        Sally Bradstreet
The Video Barn
January 17, 1997
11:36 p.m.
     Walter Skinner scanned the shelves in front of him with half-closed eyes, making the shiny
plastic covers of the myriad of films blend together.  No, doesn't have a plot.  No, has a plot, but
has no-talent actors.  No, too cerebral for a Friday night.  No, . . .
     "The Jean-Claude Van Damm films are on the far wall."
     At the sound of the low feminine voice behind him he smiled, but didn't bother to turn
around.  "Why am I not surprised that this is the video store you frequent?"
     Dana Scully laughed, a musical sound he loved hearing.  "Actually, it's not.  I'm just
stalking you."
     He glanced over his shoulder.  "I thought *I* was stalking *you*."
     She shrugged.  "Whatever."  She sidled up next to him, brushing his arm as she leaned
toward the shelves.  "  General Drama'?  Ugh.  I thought you'd go for something with a little more
flash, Walt."
     "Like?" he asked, curious to see how she would judge his taste.
     "Oh, I don't know," she replied, reading the back of a cassette, "some Clancy- or
Grisham-based thing. _The Hunt for Red October_ maybe."
     "I've got it at home.  I was looking for something new."
     "Had any luck?"
     He pulled a face.
     Dana smiled.  "Me, either."
     "What were you looking for?"
     "Oh, nothing," she said absently.  "They didn't have it anyway."
     "What didn't they have, Dana?"
     Dana flushed a little.  "Um, an old film called _Mmph_."  She covered her mouth with her
hand.
     "What was that title?" he asked, nudging her arm.  "I didn't quite catch it."
     She sighed and narrowed her eyes.  "_THEM!_, OK?  I was looking for _THEM!_"
     "The one about the giant radioactive mutant ants?"  He couldn't swallow his laugh.
     She looked up at him, indignant.  "Yes, the one about the giant radioactive mutant ants."
     He laughed again, louder this time.  "I can't believe you've seen _THEM!_, Dana.  No
one's seen that movie."
     "Hey," she said defensively, hands on hips.  "_THEM!_ is a classic.  It's one of the best
B-grade
horror movies to come out of the Fifties."
     "You've seen enough of them to make an informed choice?" he asked teasingly.
     "Yes, I have."  She crossed her arms firmly over her chest.  "It's a Scully family tradition."
     Walt leaned against the shelf beside him and studied her with a small smile.  "Oh?"
     "Ahab would be at sea for months at a time, and when he came home we hardly slept the
first two weeks."  Dana closed her eyes, remembering the first thrill that filled her every time she
saw her father coming down the gangplank, the feel of his strong arms lifting her off the pavement
and twirling her around even after she was a teenager.  "We would stay up until three or four in
the morning, talking and playing games.  Sometimes before we finally went to bed we would
watch the late show, and the only things that were on at that time of night were bad horror
movies. 
Eventually it became part of the  welcome home' ritual, all of us sitting down together with
popcorn and big, overstuffed pillows and suffering through some cheesy Fifties flick."  She
opened eyes soft with memory and smiled at him.  "I've never gotten over the habit, and when I
come home from a long trip, I get the craving for bad sci-fi."
     "I see."
     "And besides," she continued, "I feel an attachment to _THEM!_, especially now."  At his
quizzical expression she explained, "You know, the beautiful, intelligent scientist looking for the
explanation of an unusual occurrence with the dour, strong-jawed federal agent."
     "So what does that make me," he queried drily, "the cop who dies at the end or the loving
father who is entering his dotage?"
     Dana raised an eyebrow and grinned.  "Maybe you're the ants."
     Walt chuckled again.  "You're going home empty handed, then?"
     She sighed dejectedly.  "I'm afraid so."
     "You could do that," he replied, casually straightening a row of cassettes, "or . . ."
     She perked up at his tone.  "Or what?"
     "Or you could come watch it at my place."
     "You've got _THEM!_ on tape?"
     "Well, it's off TV and it has the commercials, but . . ."
     "Will you let me MST3K it?"
     His eyebrows shot up.  "Excuse me?"
     "MST3K.  You know, it's a verb.  I MST3K.  He has MST3K-ed.  We are MST3K-ing."
     "You watch _Mystery Science Theater 3000_?"  Walt was seeing a side to Dana Scully
that he had *NEVER* imagined existed.
     "I just admitted that I love bad sci-fi and you have to ask me that?"  She gave him a wink.
     He eyed her critically.  "All right.  I'll let you come and I'll let you MST3K on one
condition."
     "What's that?"
     "That I get to be Tom Servo."  He ran his hand over his bare scalp.  "There's a
resemblance between us, don't you think?"
     She tilted her head to one side and thought that his head did look a little like Tom's
gumball machine.  "O.K.," she said, stifling a laugh, "you've got a deal.  Can I bring Clyde?" 
She gestured toward her car in the parking lot.
     He turned to see her dog, his little paws propped up on the dashboard, watching his
mistress through the plate glass window.  "Do you take that dog everywhere?"
     "No," she said.  "I've been gone for a week and I missed him."  She paused, glancing at
him shyly.  "I missed you, too."
     For some reason Walt was very glad to hear that.  "Sure.  Bring Clyde.  He is
housebroken, right?"
     "Of course.  Do you have popcorn?"
     "Yup."
     "Great."  She linked her arm through his.  "Let's go."
     "Tell me," Walt asked over the roof of his car, "does Mulder know about this hobby of
yours?"
     "No," Dana practically yelped, leaning on her open door.  "He would never let me hear the
end of it.  I'm supposed to be the logical one, remember?"
     "Right.  I'll have to remember not to mention it to him."
     "Walt, if you breathe one word of this to Mulder, I'll remove your appendix with a
paperclip."
     He didn't doubt that she could.  "Not a word.  I promise."
     "Good."  She settled into her car.  "I don't want to have to hurt you."
     The streets of Georgetown were silent as they drove along, the late-night darkness marred
only by an occasional glowing porch light.  The first time she had visited him at his new home,
Dana had been surprised to find that Walt had moved into a house and not the typical single
person's apartment.  He had explained, rather wryly, that he was a little too old for a  bachelor
pad', and she'd had to agree.  Now, however, as she passed the neat houses that slept behind
snow-dusted lawns, she decided that the small, quiet neighborhood fit him well.
     Walt swung his car into his driveway, waiting while Dana pulled in beside him and
opened her door.  Her exit was preceded by a yipping furball, and he bent over, scooping the dog
up one-handed.  "Hello, Clyde," he said as the little animal licked his nose and chin.  "How are
you, you little rat?"
     "Here, I'll take him."  Dana held out expectant hands and Walt deposited the squirming
body in them so he could unlock the front door.
     "Did your mother take him while you were in Phoenix?"
     "Yes."  Clyde wiggled in her arms, and she put him down.  His claws clicked on the
hardwood floors as he explored this new territory.  "He loves her big yard, but I like to think that
he still misses me."
     Walt took in her lovely features and clear blue eyes and smiled slightly in the dim hallway. 
"I'm sure he does."
     "You promised me giant ants," she reminded him.
     "In the cabinet to the left of the TV."  He nodded toward the living room.
     She started purposefully down the hall.  "Get the popcorn."
     The living room was small, but airy, with a high ceiling and large windows that offered a
view of the immaculate backyard.  Dana thought privately that the room's decor was a little
Spartan, with its bare egg-shell walls and the single tasteful landscape above the tiny fireplace,
but the forest green upholstered chairs were comfortable and the couch looked particularly
inviting
after the week she'd had.
     Dana quickly crossed to the TV and opened the cabinet as instructed, revealing six full
shelves of video tapes.  "Uh, Walt, could you give me a little help here?  I can't seem to find the
sci-fi section."
     His voice floated in from the kitchen.  "It's on one of the hand-labeled tapes.  That's the
best I can do."
     "Well, that narrows it down to what? three shelves?"  She quickly began scanning titles,
squinting to read his tight, masculine scrawl.  "You've got quite a collection here."
     Walt pulled open the steaming bag of microwave popcorn, dumping it into a battered
plastic bowl and tossing the few pieces that landed on the counter into his mouth.  "Well," he
replied, balancing the bowl in one hand and taking two cans of soda from the refrigerator with the
other, "I don't have everything I want yet, but I keep working at it."
     He kicked off his tennis shoes as he came down the hall and paused in the doorway.  Dana
was seated on the floor, surrounded by a scattering of tapes.  "Couldn't you find it?"
     "Oh, I found it," she answered, pointing to the tape on top of the TV.  "I just have this
theory about bookshelves, video collections, and tape racks."
     He put the snacks on the coffee table and sat down to watch her sort through his tapes, her
brow furrowed in concentration.   "And that theory is?"
     "That you can learn a lot about a person by looking at the titles they own."
     "What did you learn about me?"
     "That you have questionable tastes."
     "For example?" he prompted.  Clyde nuzzled at his ankles and he obligingly lifted the dog
into his lap and scratched his ears.
     "For example," she said, gesturing toward a large stack of tapes, "you own all seven _Star
Trek_ movies." 
     "It was a boxed set."
     Dana arched an eyebrow at him.  "That is no excuse for owning _Star Trek V_.  And," she
continued before he could comment, "I have to wonder what it says about a man when he has old
episodes of _Beauty and the Beast_ kicking around.  You don't strike me as the poetry and velvet
type."
     To his horror, Walt felt his ears turn red.  "That must be one of Sharon's old tapes."
     "Sure.  She must be a big fan of _The Sands of Iwo Jima_, too, since that's the next movie
on the tape."
     "Sometimes you just grab the first available tape--" he began.
     "Five bucks says you know the opening voice over," she interrupted.
     He ducked his head, abashed.  "Both parts."
     She clucked her tongue, shaking her head, and turned back to the tapes she had pulled. 
"Now some of these I expected, _Tora! Tora! Tora!_, _The Green Berets_, _True Grit_, but
_Annie_?  Do you have a Daddy Warbucks complex that I didn't know about?"
     Walt put the dog back on the floor and stood up, placing his hands menacingly on his hips. 
"I happen to like musicals."
     "Right."  She looked up at him, unrepentant.  "And then there's _Ishtar_."
     "I'm a big Dustin Hoffman fan," he growled.
     "No one's that big of a Dustin Hoffman fan."  She scrambled to her feet as he stalked
toward her, and she plucked a final tape from the pile.  "But the piece de resistance has to be this
one."
     "Which is?" he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
     "_Ol' Yeller_."
     "That happens to be one of my family's traditions."
     She forced a serious expression to her face.  "Of course.  A big Assistant Director of the
FBI would never admit to owning a movie like this just because he likes it."
     He held out his hand.  "Give me the tape, Dana."  He moved toward her, but she scurried
away, smiling devilishly.
     "I don't think so, Walt.  Maybe I'll take it to work on Monday and watch it on my lunch
hour."
     She set her chin in that determined position he knew so well, and he couldn't resist the
challenge it offered.  "Give me the tape, Dana," he repeated.
     "Uh-uh."  She backed away from him, taunting him with the well-worn tape, a little giddy
from the late hour and lack of sleep during the week.
     He lunged at her and caught her wrist.  She quickly transferred the cassette to her other
hand and held it behind her back.
     Walt looked down into her dancing cerulean eyes and glared good-naturedly at her.  "O.K. 
If you're going to be that way about it."  He pulled her close and began to tickle her.
     "Walt, stop.  Stop!!"  Dana laughed breathlessly and wriggled out of his grasp.  "Don't! 
I'm ticklish!"
     "So I see."  He captured her waist and attacked her ribs again.  "Give me the tape."
     "O.K., O.K.!"  She tossed the tape straight up into the air.  He reached for it, but it
bounced off his fingertips.  Making a last desperate grab for it, Walt overbalanced and fell to the
floor, bringing Dana with him.
     "You'll pay for that," he muttered.  Holding her down with one hand, he tickled her
mercilessly with the other.
     "Walter Skinner," she squealed, "let me go!"
     "Not until you say  Uncle'."
     She ineffectually tried to brush his hand away, giggling.  "I don't have any uncles."
     He redoubled his efforts.  "Say  Uncle'!"
     Drawing on the experience born of growing up with two brothers, Dana drew her knees
up, placed her feet in the center of his chest, and pushed.
     Walter Skinner unexpectedly found himself flat on his back with his one-time victim
perched on his chest.  Dana laughed down at him with a triumphant smile, pinning his shoulders
to the floor.  "Say  Uncle' yourself."
     He opened his mouth to say just that, but found he couldn't speak.  Dana's eyes were
luminous, her hair a tousled mass of red silk, and he felt a sudden contraction in his chest that had
nothing to do with her weight.
     Dana stared down at him, fascinated by the depth of his brown eyes, the strong line of his
jaw, and suddenly the uneven rhythm of her breathing didn't have anything to do with her recent
wrestling match.  She scrambled off him abruptly.  "I . . . I think maybe we should start the movie
now."
     Walt sat up and moved away from her.  "I think you're right."
     He busied himself with the VCR, noticing with no small trace of irritation that his hands
were shaking slightly.  Damn!  Where had that come from?  He hadn't felt a surge of emotion like
that for Dana since the day last fall when he had walked her home from the Mall.  He still wasn't
sure why he had kissed her on her doorstep that night, but he had very deliberately pushed the
experience to the farthest corner of his memory.  After all, he was her immediate superior, and he
had no business wondering if the rest of her skin was as soft as her lips . . .  No. This was getting
entirely out of hand.  He and Dana were good friends, that was all.  And that was enough.  
     Walt stayed crouched in front of the TV for a moment, carefully bringing his thoughts back
under his usual tight control.  When he was sure that his temporary lapse into insanity had passed,
he stole a careful glance over his shoulder at her.  She was ensconced in one of his armchairs, feet
tucked up under her, Clyde curled up in her lap.  She looked at him placidly.  "Ready?"
     He nodded and went back to the couch, taking up the remote control and flipping the
movie on.  The screen filled with huge, jagged white letters-- "THEM!"
     Dana focused her eyes on the TV, pointedly keeping her attention away from the man on
the couch, pointedly keeping her mind from dwelling on what it had been like to kiss him.  She
had taken great pains to bury the memory of that night on her doorstep, but it had surfaced again
when she found herself leaning over him.  His lips had been so close, and she had experienced a
rush of feeling for him . . .  She shook her head to clear it.  No.  That was out of the question. 
Walt was one of the few platonic male friends she had had over the years, and she didn't want to
jeopardize that relationship with an aberration in her behavior, no matter how pleasant that
aberration might prove to be.
     She dared a glance in his direction.  He was sitting up straight (didn't he ever slouch?),
legs stretched out in front of him, arms resting easily on the back of the couch.  He sensed her
eyes
on him and turned to meet her gaze.
     Suddenly both grinned rather foolishly, each relieved to see the chagrin and uncertainty
they felt mirrored in the other's face.  The tension that had been building silently between them
vanished and both sighed, glad that things were normal again.
     "Hey, Tom."
     "Yeah, Crow?"
     "Rewind it a little.  I missed the entrance of the first victim."
     Walt obligingly rewound the tape, and the young police officer once again started poking
through the ruins of the demolished store.
     Dana put her hand to her mouth, clicking on an imaginary C.B.  "Uh, Houston, red-gold
shirt rule is in effect, over."
     "Red-gold shirt rule?" he repeated.
     "It's a _Star Trek_ thing," she replied sheepishly.  "The unnamed ensign in the red or gold
uniform always dies.  It's a device of the genre."
     He pinned her with his patented Assistant Director Glare.  "I am truly concerned about
your mental well-being, Agent Scully."
     She arched her patented Eyebrow in return.  "No disrespect intended, sir, but you're the
one with the giant ants."
     He paused to consider this.  "That's true.  My Aunt Georgiana is quite large."  He tone
was utterly serious and he pointed to his cheek.  "She kissed me right here every Thanksgiving,
and her moustache always tickled.  That's why I refuse to grow a beard."
     Dana tried to restrain herself, but the laugh erupted any way.  "It's way too late," she said,
rubbing her face with both hands.  "That wasn't even funny."
     They settled back to watch the movie, the flickering black and white images eliciting
sometimes snide, sometimes acerbic comments.
     -- "Think he'll die?"
     "Nah.  He's the hunky American lead.  The hunky American lead never dies."--
     -- "Whoa.  I'd hate to see the size of the picnic."
     "And them without their industrial size can of Raid."--
     -- "Say!  Look at the way the dour agent is looking at the beautiful scientist.  Do you think
they'll do it?"
     "They never do it in shows like this."--
     -- "Hey, how come Mulder and I never get technologically advanced protective gear like
that?"
     "With your track record you're lucky we trust you with flashlights."--
     -- "That doesn't look much like Los Angeles."
     "You're right.  It looks more like Vancouver."--
     -- "See, not everyone in law enforcement has you aversion to calling for back-up, Dana.
Dana?"  Walt looked to her chair.
     She was asleep, with Clyde still curled up in her lap.
     Clyde watched him with bright, dark eyes as he stood and retrieved a coat from the table
near the door.  The little dog waved his tail approvingly when Walt scratched his ears and didn't
protest when he lifted him from his mistress's lap and placed him on the floor.
     Walt draped Dana's coat over her sleeping form, tucking it in around her shoulders, and
thought, She looks so young!  No wonder Mulder was always running off without her.  It would
be so easy to want to protect her.
     He watched her sleep, noticing the way her hair fell softly around her face and shoulders,
its red hue made more vibrant by the contrast of the green cushion beneath her head.  Against his
better judgment, he reached out and brushed a lock of that hair from her cheek.
     Dana stirred, shifting her position and bumping against his arm where it rested on the
back of the chair.  She frowned in her sleep and whimpered.
     Concerned, Walt put a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Dana?"
     At the deep rumble of his voice she stiffened, then lashed out, arms and legs flailing.
     "Dana?" he repeated.
     "No!" she murmured, her movements growing more frenzied.  "Don't!"
     Walt backed away from her, and the force of her next blind punch sent her tumbling to the
floor.  He scooped her up and carried her to the couch, ignoring the blows that landed painfully
on
his chest and ribs.  He deposited her on the couch and took her shoulder in a firm grip.  "Dana,"
he said, giving her a little shake.  "Dana, wake up."
     Her eyelids still squeezed tightly shut, she screamed, "No!  Let me go!  NO!!"
     He shook her again and barked, "Agent Scully!"
     She snapped awake, her eyes wide and liquid with fear.  Her confused gaze darted around
the room, taking in the dark corners, the bare walls, at last lighting on the man beside her. 
"Walt?"
     "Yes, Dana, it's me."  His grip loosened, but he didn't release his hold on her shoulders. 
"You're at my house.  Are you all right?"
     Dana closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another, then another.  The images from
her nightmare still shrieked in her brain, and she silenced them one by one, forcing them back to
the farthest corner of her soul where such terrors resided.  She willed her limbs to stop shaking,
her heart to stop its thunderous pounding.  At last she opened her eyes and regarded him coolly. 
"I'm fine."
     He sat amazed as she almost clinically calmed herself, watched as her normal self-possession
settled over her like a cloak, observed the serenity that shone from her eyes as she
looked at him.  And he didn't believe it for an instant.  "No, you're not."
     She raised an imperious eyebrow.  "I'm fine, Walt."  Each syllable received full emphasis.
     "Anyone who wakes up from a nightmare like that is not fine.  I should know.  What was
it?"  His expression demanded a reply.
     "It was nothing," she said quietly, dropping her eyes to stare at the carpet.  She had never
told anyone about her nightmares, not even Mulder.  Those close to her knew she suffered from
them, but no one, no one, had ever asked her about them until now.  "Really, Walt," she repeated. 
"I'm O.K."
     "Stop trying to protect me, Dana," he said sternly.  He tightened his fingers on her
shoulders again, willing her to listen.  He understood her struggle, had gone through it himself. 
He knew how difficult it was to expose the darkest parts of self to the light of another's scrutiny,
and he knew how healing that scrutiny could be.  "I know everything that's happened to you. 
Nothing you can say will upset or shock me."  He was surprised by his own vehemence, but
continued anyway.  "All you're doing is shutting me out, and I won't let you do it.  I've lost too
many friends that way."  A picture of Sharon formed in his mind and he quickly dismissed it.  He
softened his tone and asked, "Please, Dana.  Tell me."
     Dana heard the notes of insistence and sympathy in his voice and decided that he, more
than anyone else, would understand.  She raised her eyes to meet his, wanting to connect with him
somehow, but she dropped them again almost immediately--his piercing brown gaze made her feel
too vulnerable.  Instead she leaned toward him, seeking the comfort of his broad chest.  "I don't
remember all of it now."
     Walt closed his arms around her, pulling her to him and giving in to the urge to stroke her
hair.  "What do you remember?"
     She nestled into his side, breathing in the scent of his cologne.  "I was . . . it was about
when I was . . . taken.  There were men with . . . tools . . . and they were . . ."  She swallowed
hard.  "I didn't like what they were doing and I couldn't get away and no one could find me and I
was terrified . . ."  Her voice trailed off.
     "It's all right," he whispered.  "You're safe now."
     "I know."  A voice in her head mentioned casually that perhaps she should sit up.  She
ignored it and turned her attention to the TV.  "Hey, I missed the courageous cop valiantly giving
up his life to save the kids."
     The space-scape currently on the screen was in color.
     "Yeah. _THEM!_ ended about 15 minutes ago.  Do you want me to rewind it?"  Walt
privately hoped she would say no.  He'd have to sit up to reach the remote, an action that would
require her to sit up as well, and he didn't want to let her go just yet.
     "No, that's O.K."  She watched the movie a moment in silence.  "Hey, this is _Forbidden
Planet_.  Did you know that this movie marks the first appearance of the white male triumvirate in
command of a spaceship?"
     "No, I didn't."  He chuckled, then stopped.  "I should probably find something else."
     She craned her neck to look up at him, puzzled by the worry in his voice.  "Why?"
     "Bad things happen when Morbius goes to sleep, remember?"
     "Don't worry about it," she said with a small smile.  "I rarely sleep after a nightmare like
this one."
     The sounds of the movie washed over them as they fell silent, each too occupied with their
thoughts to remark on the film.
     What am I doing? Dana asked herself sharply.  I must be going insane to still be here like
this.  She and Walt had clearly reached a crossroads, and she knew the course she must take.  He
was her superior, and more importantly, he was her friend.  The only way to protect both
relationships was to step away, preferably right now.  But the sound of his heartbeat beneath her
ear was steady and comforting, and it had been so long since anyone had just held her . . .  Ten
minutes one way or another, she decided, won't make much of a difference.
     Walt looked down at her, a wave of regret welling up in his chest.  This evening with
Dana had been wonderful, a peaceful interlude in their hectic lives, but it had to stop here.  She
was his subordinate and his friend, two relationships that he refused to sacrifice to a momentary
lapse into emotion.  He hugged her tightly for a moment, then nudged her slightly.  "Dana, sit up."
     "Hmmm."  She sighed and nuzzled more closely into his shoulder.
     "Dana?"  He tilted his head to see her face.  She was asleep again.
     He smiled and smoothed her hair away from her cheek, and, knowing that she was asleep,
pressed a gentle kiss against the top of her head.  He then turned his attention back to the TV, and
tried to forget about the woman breathing softly against his chest.
     And in her sleep, Dana smiled.
                            The End
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------
End Note--Dana's remark about the white male triumvirate comes from LeVar Burton.

"Repeat to yourself,  It's just a show;
I should really just relax.' "--_Mystery Science Theater 3000_ Theme Song

Next story: "Day in Cyberspace"

"Day with Tom and Crow"
Sally Bradstreet
amstone@ix.netcom.com
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------

Welcome to the next story in my "Day" series, wherein Dana and Walt discover that cyberspace is
a liberating place, even for the truly repressed.  Now before you get all excited, relax.  It's just
some harmless flirting, but it's a big step for our two heroes.

I have to do a little explaining.  In order to make my typing job easier, I've decided to mark all the
cyber-conversation with dashes.  I know that's not the way it looks in real-time chat, but I'm an
author, not a computer technician.  If it really bothers you, use your imagination to fill in the
correct techno-stuff,  cause I'm not gonna.

Also, after reading "Day with Tom and Crow", several of you wanted to know what happened
when Dana woke up in Walt's arms.  Here are the two most likely scenarios:
     Bonnie's theory--Walt fell asleep, too, and they spent the night on the couch.  Dana woke
up first, quietly left without waking him, and probably kissed him before she went, again without
waking him.
     Sally's theory--Walt eventually went up to bed, leaving Dana to sleep on the couch, so it
wasn't an issue.
Either way, this story doesn't deal with it.  Sorry.

DISCLAIMER: Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, and Clyde the Pomeranian (oh, and Donny Pfaster
and Fox Mulder and Tom Colton, too) are the creative property of Chris Carter and 1013
Productions.  They just appeared on my doorstep one day.  I tried to make them go back to
Vancouver, but they wouldn't.  Really! _Highlander_, _Night of the Lepus_, Klatuu, Morbius, and
Elizabeth aren't mine either, but then I know you could have figured that out on your own.

Eternal thanks to Bonnie, who keeps insisting that this isn't drivel.

Send all praise and adoration to Sally c/o amstone@ix.netcom.com.

WARNING: Skinner/Scully romance ahead.

Previous Story: "Day with Tom and Crow"

                       Day in Cyberspace
                               by
                        Sally Bradstreet
Apartment of Dana Scully
February 8, 1997
6:58 pm
     Walter Skinner stood in her living room, frowning.  This had been a bad idea from the
start, but when she had asked him, he had agreed to it without a thought, not stopping to consider
the consequences.  And now he regretted that lack of reflection.
     He looked at the figure sitting half in shadows.  "You hate me, don't you?"
     Clyde the Pomeranian barked and gazed up at him, tail wagging, tongue lolling pinkly
between sharp little teeth.
     Walt sighed and plopped onto the couch.  "So, you little rat," he asked conversationally,
"are you going to cooperate, or do I have to get tough?"
     Clyde responded by placing his paws on the edge of the couch and begging to be petted.
     "Oh, no.  You're not going to get around it with that cute little doggy act.  Where did you
hide it?"
     The animal settled on his belly and stared at him with bright, dark eyes.
     "Well," Walt growled when the dog was not forthcoming, "at least I came prepared."  He
reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a list of numbers where the furball's mistress could be
reached.
     He tried her cellular first, and was told by a pleasant recording that the party he was trying
to reach was not answering.  Walt sighed.  That could mean that sunspots were interfering with
the signal or that she had dropped her phone down a 30 foot well or anything in between.  All in
all, it was not very helpful.
     "OK, no problem," he muttered.  "Let's try Plan B."  He consulted his list of numbers and
tried her hotel.
     "Palmetto Pavilion," a female voice drawled.  "Can I help you?"
     "Room 5 please."
     "One moment."  A click, a buzzing, then the South Carolina accent again.  "I'm sorry, sir,
that line is busy.  Would you like to leave a message?"
     "No.  No message, thank you."  Walt placed the phone back on its recharger and rubbed
the bridge of his nose.  If her line was busy, maybe she was using her laptop to access the Bureau
data base.  If so, there was one more possibility.
     Her computer sat atop a lovely oak desk tucked in a corner.  Like everything else about
her, the desk was immaculate, with neat piles of folders and papers checking it cream and white. 
Her chair was padded and comfortable, but his knees banged painfully against the desk when he
sat down.  He lowered the chair with a grunt and flipped on her computer.
     Walt reached for the center drawer, then hesitated.  She had told him that she kept a record
of her passwords in that drawer, and that he could use them at any time, but it still felt odd to be
poking about in her drawers when she wasn't there.  Then Clyde brushed against his ankles,
asking politely to be scratched, and Walt knew there was no help for it.
     Her list of passwords covered an index card, and each expired word was crossed off with a
single neat line.  He recognized most of them a characters from books, thought there were some
exceptions like "Klatuu", "toboggan", and "Morbius".  The most current one was "Elizabeth",
and he typed it in with a smile.
     He entered the e-mail address she used while traveling and sent a quick message: -Dana, I
need to talk to you.  I'll wait ten minutes.  I'm at your house.  Walt- Then he picked up the
recalcitrant pup that was the source of his current woes and waited.
     She responded to his talk request within five minutes.  -Hey, Walt.  What's the problem?-
     -I have dog food, a dog dish, a dog carrier, and even a dog.  However, I have no dog
blanket.  It's blue, right?  It wasn't in the corner where you said it would be.-
     -Sorry.  I should have warned you that he'd hide it.  It's a game he likes to play.-
     Walt gave the dog curled up in his lap an annoyed glance.  -So what do I do?-
     -Well, you can either try to find it or wait until he gets tired and brings it out himself.-
     -Any suggestions on places to look?-
     -Try behind the TV.-
     He placed Clyde on the floor and the dog trotted along beside him.  A quick peek behind
the console revealed no blanket, and Walt picked up the remote as he returned to the computer. 
-No luck.  Hey, _Night of the Lepus_ is on TNT.-
     -Please.  Make yourself at home, Walt.-
     He grinned at the screen and typed, -Up or down?-
     -Excuse me?-
     -Your eyebrow.  Is it up or down?-
     -Up.  Why?-
     -Because it usually reflects your opinion or your tone of voice.  You need to find an
emoticon for your eyebrow so I know what you're thinking.-
     A pause, presumably while she searched her keyboard.  -OK.  How about this? ^-
     -Perfect.  Where else can I look?-
     -Uh, try the kitchen near the refrigerator.-
     Clyde's nails clicked on the linoleum as he snuffled around for scraps his owner might
have missed.  Walt snuffled around, too, not finding the blanket, but discovering a cookie jar full
of homemade chocolate chip cookies.  He opened cabinets until he found a plate which he
mounded with cookies and took back with him.  -No blanket, but great snacks.  I didn't know you
could cook.-
     -I have a lot of skills you don't know about, Walt. ;)-
     Walt blinked in surprise.  Dana had never made a comment like that before.  She was
always so proper, even outside the office.  Then again, he reflected as his fingers danced over the
keys in response, there was something about the anonymity of cyberspace that tended to lower
people's inhibitions.  -Was that an offer, Dana?-
     -It could, wait a minute.-
     He finished off the cookies while he waited.
     -I'm back.  Mulder just informed me that _Night of the Lepus_ was on.-
     -And you told him you were watching PBS, right?-
     -Of course.  I have reputation to maintain.-
     -You've got _Lepus_ on with the sound down low, don't you ?-
     -Guilty.  How can I resist DeForrest Kelly and giant killer bunny rabbits?-
     -Medication?-
     -Very funny. ^-
     -Can I have some milk?  Your cookies made me thirsty.-
     -You're asking my permission now? ^ Are you getting shy on me, Walt?-
     -No, I just wanted to make sure it hasn't expired.-
     -It should be fine.  I didn't plan on being gone so long.  That's why you're there,
remember?-
     -How could I forget?-
     Her call to him that morning had been almost frantic.  "AD Skinner, Agent Mulder and I
are going to be here another two or three days."  
     "That's fine, Agent Scully, but you don't need to inform me of that."
     "I know that, sir.  It's, uh, about my dog."
     "Your dog?"
     "My mother's out of town, and I promised my neighbor that I would be back today.  Could
you take him, please?  It's just for a couple of days."
     "Agent Scully . . ."
     "My landlord will let you in.  I already told him you'd be coming by this evening."
     "All right.  But Agent Scully?"
     "Yes, sir?"
     "This is a one time deal."
     "Understood, sir."
     He set his glass on a coaster near the keyboard.  -Your milk is OK.-
     -Now I can sleep tonight. ^ Sheesh.  I guess I do raise my eyebrow a lot.-
     He laughed.  -Told you so.  Where do I look now?-
     -The bathroom under the tub.-
     The only thing Walt found in the bathroom that was blue was the thick bath towel that
hung neatly beside the sink.  "Great."  As he turned to leave, a bottle balanced on the edge of the
tub caught his eye an he picked it up.  It was bubble bath.
     He grasped the bottle tightly, remembering what he had read about Donny Pfaster.  It
surprised him that she would purposefully keep and use something that could remind her of her
experience with Pfaster.  But then he had never known Dana Scully _not_ to face her fears.
     "Victorian Garden," he read aloud shrugged at his hairy red shadow.  "I'll take their word
for it."
     Walt unscrewed the lid and held the bottled under his nose.  The smell of the bubble bath
filled his lungs and he thought of a single word--Dana.  He closed his eyes and took another deep
breath.  The floral scent wrapped around him and it was almost as if she were standing at his side
. . .
     . . . wondering what he was doing sniffing her bubble bath.  He quickly replaced lid and
bottle and returned to the desk.  -It's not there.  I think he ate it.-
     -Possibly.  Oh, look.  They're herding the rabbits toward the electrified rails.  What a
clever idea. ^-
     -What else are you going to do with an overpopulation of giant bunnies?-
     -I don't know.  Send them to a furrier?-
     -Ha.  Hey.  Clyde just yawned.  Maybe he's getting sleepy.-
     -I wouldn't count on it.  He's a night owl.-
     -Wonderful.  Next place?-
     -Let me think.  Under the couch?-
     While on his hands and knees with his cheek pressed against the hardwood floor, he saw
not a blanket, but a video case.  He slid it out and began perusing the titles she owned, much like
she had done at his house a few weeks earlier.  Walt chuckled and returned the case to its hiding
place.
     -No doggie bed, but I did find your stash of movies that you don't want Mulder to know
you own.  BTW, I thought there were three _Highlander_ movies.-
     -There should have been only one. ^-
     Walt couldn't resist the opening.  -Then why do you have the official tapes of the series?-
     -A girl makes one impulse buy at two o'clock in the morning and she's got a rep.-
     -You didn't answer my question, Agent Scully.-
     -I watch the series for the plot lines.-
     -I've seen the show, Dana.  I don't think it's his  plot lines' that hold your interest.-
     -Is that jealously, Walt?  Afraid you don't measure up?-
     -I don't know.  What do you think?- He waited for her response with a nervousness he
hadn't expected.
     -You'll do in a pinch.-
     -How about _for_ a pinch? ;)-
     -Walt!-
     -Sorry.- Walt shook his head to clear it.  This was rapidly getting out of hand.  But it was
so easy to let his control slip here in her darkened apartment, surrounded by the belongings that
were reflections of her.  He saw Clyde looking up at him and he returned his attention to his
quest. 
-Any where else I can look?-
     -Try my bedroom next to the nightstand.-
     Walt entered her bedroom with a twinge of reluctance.  Nosing around her bathroom and
kitchen was one thing, but her bedroom was different.  Kitchens and bathrooms were pretty much
public domain, but bedrooms . . .
     He quickly looked beside her bed.  No blanket.  Again.  Then his gaze drifted to her closet,
which was open.
     Well, it's not like _I_ opened it, he rationalized as he glanced at the shoes and suits that
filled the small space.  Something black and shiny caught his eyes, and feeling like a voyeur, he
carefully extracted the item of clothing from the closet.
     It was an evening dress, spangled with beads.  Walt found that it took no effort at all to
imagine Dana wearing it, or to visualize how the short skirt would show off her legs.
     He hurriedly returned the dress to the closet.  Time to go.
     -It's not there, either.-
     -Gee, Walt.  Did you get lost?-
     -No.  I was just wondering why I've never seen you wear that black dress.- He was
skirting land mines now, he knew, but he sent the message anyway.
     -Which black dress?-
     Walt could almost see the wariness in her words.  -The one in the back of your closet. 
With the beads.-
     -It's a little formal for work, don't you think?-
     -I don't know.  If you wore it with those black heels with the ankle straps I don't think
anyone would care.-
     -Why? ^-
     -Because you'd be too beautiful to reprimand.- He held his breath, waiting for her
response.
     -Really?-
     How could a single line of type sound husky? he wondered. -Mmm-hmm.  And you'd look
even lovelier in that nightgown.-
     -YOU WENT THROUGH MY LINGERIE DRAWER?????-
     -No, but I will now. <VBEG>-
     -Assistant Director or no, doing me a huge favor or no, I must insist that you stop
snooping around my house!-
     As he formulated his retort to this, a thought that had been drifting at the edge of his
consciousness suddenly came into focus.  With a sickening jolt, he realized just how dangerous
this game they were playing was.  -Dana, can I ask you a question?-
     -Blue.-
     -What?-
     -The negligee I'm wearing is blue.  That was what you wanted to ask, wasn't it?-
     He immediately banished the image of Dana in a blue negligee from his mind and
continued.  -Dana, I'm serious.-
     -All right, Walt.  Ask.-
     -Has it occurred to you that I'm sexually harassing you?-
     It took her a long time to answer.  -I suppose that technically you're right.-
     -  Technically'?  It's either harassment or it's not.- He pounded out the words in an
attempt to pound out his anger at himself.  -There's no  technically' about it.-
     -That's not necessarily true, Walt.  I say technically because from you, I don't consider it
harassment.-
     -What do you mean?- he asked, confused by her apparent distinction.
     -If another man, let's say Tom Colton for argument's sake, somehow gained access to my
apartment, went through my clothes, and made suggestive comments about them, then that would
be harassment.  In fact, if Colton made _any_ suggestive comment to me I'd have him in
Personnel so fast that he'd be walking funny for a week.-
     -So what makes the difference?-
     -To put it bluntly, Tom Colton is a pig and you are not.-
     When he didn't reply she elaborated.  -You're a good man, Walter Sean Skinner, and I
know you wouldn't do anything to hurt me.  I trust you.-
     I trust you.  He was amazed at the effect those three words had on him, lifting the weight
from his chest and making his head spin.  She trusted him.  Dana Katherine Scully, a woman who
had reasons enough to be suspicious of everyone, trusted him, and he felt slightly drunk with it. 
-And I trust you, Dana.-
     -Is there an emoticon for ironic laughter?-
     -I don't think so.  Why do you need one?-
     -Because I'm laughing over the irony of you trusting me after all of the times I've lied to
you.-
     -You've lied to me?-
     -Walt. ^-
     Now finding himself in the position of elaborating his view point, he typed, -Dana, you
lied to me on those occasions to protect yourself and your partner from my superiors.  I've lied to
you for the same reasons.  Self-preservation is a very real thing.-
     -It is indeed.-
     Silence settled over the screen and he again lifted Clyde into his lap.  "Well, buddy," he
lamented, scratching the dog's ear, "it was fun while it lasted."
     Then he saw it.  -Hey, Walt.  What are _you_ wearing?-
     "All right!"  He put Clyde back on the floor and glanced down at his rumpled suit. -Work
clothes.-
     -Walt.-
     -Yes, Dana?-
     -Lie to me.-
     Walt crowed with laughter and Clyde yipped excitedly in sympathy.  "What the hell," he
told his furry companion.  "She's probably wearing sweats."  -Did I say work clothes?  I meant
work _out_ clothes.-
     -Uh, no.  I've seen you in work out clothes.  Try again.-
     -^-
     -I said try again.-
     -OK, how about a bathrobe?-
     -Nope.-
     -All right.  If you're so picky, what would you suggest?-
     -Anything with your leather jacket.-
     -Really?-
     -Mmm-hmm.-
     -OK.  Jeans and a t-shirt.-
     -What color of t-shirt?-
     -Whatever color you like, but it is about a size too small.-
     -Are your glasses on or off?-
     -Off.  Because you're holding them.-
     There was no response, and Walt was afraid he'd gone to far by bringing them  in contact'
in their little verbal fantasy.  He cautiously prompted, -Dana?  Are you still there?-
     -Uh-huh.  I just went for some more ice.  And I was wondering.-
     His grin was smug. -Wondering what?-
     -Am I holding your glasses because you took them off and I picked them up, or am I
holding them because I took them off you?-
     -That depends on your negligee.  Satin or lace?-
     -A little of both.-
     -How little?-
     -_Very_ little.-
     Walt's mouth was suddenly dry.  -You took them off.  Definitely.-
     -Is that an offer, Walt?-
     Before he could reply Clyde whined and Walt tore his eyes from the screen to look down at
the little dog.  Then he returned to the keyboard with a disappointed sigh.  -Well, Clyde must be
tired.  He just brought me his blanket.-
     -Where was it?-
     -I don't know.  I was a little distracted when he found it.-
     -Only a little? ;)-
     -Well, now I've got everything I need.  I guess I don't have an excuse to stick around here
any longer.-
     -I guess not.  I do appreciate this, Walt.  Thanks.-
     -It was worth it just for this.-
     -Uh, Walt?-
     -Yeah?-
     -This wasn't really us.-
     He read the concern between her words and he understood it.  They would never have
dared to have a conversation like this face to face.  It was too personal, too risky.  -No, it wasn't
us.  If anyone asks, I'll tell them I spent the evening talking with Lola.-
     -I would never wear yellow feathers in my hair, Walt. ^-
     -How about a dress cut down to there? ;)-
     -If you have to ask that, you obviously didn't find the green one.  Night.-
     Walt sat staring at the screen for a moment, contemplating, then set himself on automatic
pilot.  He turned off the computer, bundled Clyde into his carrier, and gathered up his other
pet-sitting supplies, all the while trying not to think of her.  Or her closet.  Or her green dress.
     He quickly left and locked the door behind him.
                            The End
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"The key is the key." --_Jumpin' Jack Flash_

Next story: "Day for Shopping" by Bonnie Drew

"Day in Cyberspace"
Sally Bradstreet
amstone@ix.netcom.com
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