By Michele (starshine24mc@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC17
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: M/Sk
Date: August 26, 2000
Beta: none
Spoilers: War of the Coprophages,
maybe others…
Boring but necessary disclaimer: C.C.,
Fox and 1013 own them, I’m just borrowing them for fun, not profit, and
I promise to return them only slightly bruised
Archive: put it wherever you like,
just leave my name on it
Feedback: Yes, PLEASE!
Summary: Part of a work in
progress-be patient. Thanks to all the great writers out there, and
you know who you are, for inspiring me to greater flights of fancy.
Jackie, feel free to beta and get back to me. Love ya, and hope you
enjoy this story as much as I enjoy yours.
***
“Damnit!” Assistant Director Walter Skinner swore loudly and slammed the receiver of his phone down on the cradle so hard the walnut desk he was sitting at actually shuddered from the force of the blow.
“Damnit,” he said again, softer, then picked the receiver back up. He swore the same oath once more, this time under his breath, then dialed a number from memory. He took a deep breath and heard her voice.
“Scully.”
“Scully? It’s Walter Skinner. I’m sorry to have to call you while you are on leave, but-“
“What’s he done, sir?”
Skinner smiled grimly. Years of working with Fox Mulder, her troubled and troublesome partner, had made Dana Scully something of a psychic when it came to his actions.
“Not sure, yet. Miller’s Grove P.D. just called-they found Agent Mulder’s car in a ditch just outside of town. There’s no sign of Mulder. As you know, he took leave at the same time as you did, which was two days ago. Have you heard from him since then?”
Skinner could hear the concern in her voice when she answered, and he wondered briefly if she could hear the matching worried tone in his own.
“No, sir. Mulder’s been to Miller’s Grove before, though. He goes there to-“ She paused a moment, then continued in a tone that suggested she was conferring a great secret upon him. “He goes there when he has to think about things.”
Skinner slipped off his glasses, closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the telltale throb of a full-fledged headache on its way.
“Sir? Are you still there?”
“Scully, I’d like you to meet me at the-“ he hesitated, feeling a conspicuous lump in his throat. “-At the scene,”-he’d almost said crime scene, and he knew she had heard the unspoken word. “I can be there in 40 minutes.”
“I’m on my way, sir.”
Skinner hung up the phone, and wondered what she knew. Dana Scully was Fox Mulder’s best friend, his only friend, really, as far as Skinner knew, with the dubious exception of those three crazies he sometimes consulted on cases, and Skinner was aware of just how close they had become in working together for so many years. He knew that Mulder confided in his partner more than just professionally, and he also knew that she kept those confidences like a krieg padlock on a chain link fence. More than once, the government had seen just how stubborn Scully could be when it came to keeping a secret. She feared losing Mulder’s trust more than she feared any actions against her for her silence.
Now Skinner wondered if she was keeping silent against him. He, too, was a recipient of Fox Mulder’s limited trust and affection, and the question in his mind was what Mulder had told his partner, what she may have surmised herself, being no slouch in the investigative department, and what he should be telling her in the event that they found something more amiss in Massachusetts than an abandoned car.
No time to waste he thought, replacing the wire rims on his face, then rising from his desk, sweeping the notes he had jotted down while talking to the police into a file folder and carrying it over to the coat rack, where he quickly donned his holstered gun, and his suit jacket. He threw his overcoat over one arm, and strode purposefully out of the office, pausing only a moment to address his assistant, Kimberly Cooke.
“Cancel everything today, Kim, I have to be out of town.”
“Yes sir.” Kim was invaluable on many levels, but her greatest asset was never questioning the authority of her boss.
Skinner was out of the building and into his car in less time than it takes to tell. He slipped into the driver’s seat, threw coat and file into the back of the vehicle, and started the ignition. He was just about to pull out of the parking space when he happened to glance over at the passenger side and notice the styrofoam coffee cup, lid intact, sitting slightly askew on the leather upholstered seat. Eyes not quite focussing, he picked up the cup and opened the lid.
It was full of empty sunflower seed shells.
Skinner shut the car off and hunched forward in his seat, brow to steering wheel, feeling the fear he had been holding at bay come leaping forward like a great fanged mastiff, wild and threatening. He took a deep breath, then another, willing away the panic almost physically. The cup of shells crumpled as he balled his hands into fists, and he dropped it to the floor of the car…
*-the car
*What?
*I said, I don’t want to see one of those damn shells in this car. Here, use this.
*God, Walter, you are so anal-retentive.
*And you love it, you know you do.
*That’s anal-attentive, and you’re right, I do love it. I love you…
Skinner came back to himself after a moment, started the car up again, and, with jaw clenched grimly, pulled out of the car park.
**********
...I can't see...Is it raining? There's something in my eyes...Christ
that hurts...What the hell happened? I can't see...Where's the car,
the car, something about the car...Walter said not to get seeds in the
car-What the hell was that? Oh, god, my back-what was that?
Why can't I see? The rain. The rain is in my eyes, I think.
Okay, think-oh, god! What was it-just before I-I was thinking about
Walter-I don't remember the rain-so warm-come on, Mulder, snap out of it-why
is the rain warm? I can't move-I can't see. I have to get the
rain out of my eyes-figure out where I am-where Walter is-I-oh, god, it's
blood! Who's blood? Am I bleeding? I can't see...Walter...