By Michele (starshine24mc@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC17
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: M/Sk
Date: September 10, 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.  L.S.: This one's for you-someday I'll learn how to make them as happy as you do.

***

Grover’s Mill
8:24 p.m.

Walter Skinner stepped out of his car and surveyed the scene before him, eyes dark, jaw tight, mouth a grim slash across a too pale face.

There were two police cars, slant parked in front of the ditch to keep potential gawkers from disturbing the scene.  Their lights were on, bathing the roadside in a garish purple glow as they waxed and waned.  The sirens were mute, however, and Walter gave thanks for small favours.

The drive here had been long and frustrating, and most of all frightening, thanks to an over-active imagination (and Fox claimed he didn’t have one-Ha!), and the emotional nature of the situation.  A million different scenarios vied for space in his mind, most of them ending in bloody corpses, and now his head was throbbing like a rotted tooth, despite dry-swallowing several aspirin, which he had found in the glove box.

Walter was relieved to see Dana Scully approaching him.  It was a sneaky sort of relief, the kind that always followed the old adage “misery loves company”.  Regardless, he felt the vice grip headache ease up a little as he stepped forward to meet her.

“Well?” he realized he was being abrupt, but couldn’t help himself.  It was just his nature, and he was too damn old to change now.

“I’ve just gotten here, myself, sir.  The police seem to have the scene confined.   We’ll have to get permission to examine the vehicle.”  The words were clipped and professional, but Walter could hear the strain in Scully’s voice, and he suspected her drive was as stressful as his own was.  He noticed then that she was wearing tights and a large gray t-shirt-not her usual business-like attire, and he remembered that he had pulled her off leave.

“Scully, I-“ he stopped there, unsure of what he wanted to say.  His eyes were drawn back to the t-shirt, hanging loosely over her frame, nearly down to her knees, making her look even more diminutive.  He suddenly felt big and clumsy next to her as he reached out to touch her shoulder.  His large hand gripped her for only a moment before she plucked it off her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Let’s go, sir.  We won’t know anything until we see what’s happened.”  As she spoke, she lifted the shirt to her waist to reveal her gun, holstered in a clip on her hip, and a small leather pouch, clipped on the other side, from which she retrieved her FBI identification card and badge.

He nodded a mute assent, then followed her as she strode back to the waiting police cars, finding it a task to keep up with her, even with his longer-legged steps.  He could see the tension in her neck and back below her short red hair, despite the large cut of the shirt, and he wondered why he couldn’t shake his focus back to the situation.  Then he noticed the shoulder he had touched so briefly, and he stopped in his tracks, calling her name.

Scully turned, confused, to see Walter staring at her, frozen in place.  She walked back to her supervisor and looked up into his eyes.

“What is it, sir?”

Walter reached out for her, again touching her shoulder, covering the rip in the seam between the sleeve and the neck.

“Where did you get this shirt?” his voice was scarcely above a whisper, so unlike his usual biting tone that Scully’s eyes widened and she took a step back, blue eyes widening, not in fear, but rather in something akin to surprise.

“I-uh-Mulder, sir- our last assignment- we went to Charleston, half my luggage went to Alaska.  I needed something to-“

Walter cut her off in mid-ramble.

“It’s mine.”

Scully knew she should have been more surprised, more hurt, more shocked.  Instead, her first thought was rather a silly one: I guess that explains why Mulder’s shirt is not only too big for me, but too big for him, too.  Somehow she knew that Skinner had not just lent his shirt to Mulder during one of their infrequent games of one on one in the Bureau gym.  Those two words had said more than that.  They spoke of a possession that went beyond the clothes, to the man himself.  It explained why Skinner was so concerned about this matter that he had called her back from her vacation, why he had come out here himself.  It also explained all the looks, the calls, the lack of videos in the office lately-it explained everything, except why Mulder hadn’t told her.

She took a deep breath, looked away from the assistant director, then looked back into his eyes, seeing for what felt like the first time how dark they were.  Not intense, like Mulder’s hazel ones, but deep; burnt chocolate, bittersweet…

“I’ll make sure that Mulder gets it back to you.  He didn’t tell me.”  Scully wasn’t just talking about the shirt.

“I know. “  Neither was Skinner.  “He had his reasons, Scully.  We both did.”

“I’m going to want to discuss this with you later, sir-“ She risked a small smile, “both of you.”  Then she turned and continued towards the police barricade.

Walter exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  He knew that Fox had been concerned about his partner’s reaction to their relationship, but he didn’t realize the depths of his own concerns until Scully had so easily allayed them.  He followed behind her again, trying to get a better grip on the fabric of his reality, which, as darkness approached, seemed to be tenuous at best.  He felt himself moving, but from a distance, almost as though he was watching from outside himself.  It didn’t bode well, as he recalled past out of body experiences.  But the feeling persisted, and he smiled grimly, thinking Fox would love this…

*love this…

*Fox, I don’t think this is my sort of thing…

*You’re going to have to trust me on this one, Walter…

*Trust me, he says!  Isn’t there a pot/kettle metaphor somewhere here?

*Shut up!  Now pass me the remote…

*Playing By Heart?  I’ve never even heard of it, Fox-

*It’s got Sean Connery in it, Walter, you love Sean Connery.  Make a little room here-

*Do I look like a pillow?

*Hey, that tickles! Stop it!

*Okay, okay, let’s see this treasure you’ve brought back from Mount Blockbuster…

*Open mind, Walter…

*Only for you…

Walter shook off the memory and approached the two policemen who were looking at Scully’s I.D. and pointing out the car, tumbled halfway down the shallow ditch.  He presented his own badge, then followed Scully to the site, stepping over the police tape.  He inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, at his first good look at Mulder’s car.

Scully was already crouched by the open driver’s side door.

Large dents were visible on the back door and the bumper, and the trunk was crimped in.  It looked like the car had been knocked around by a tank, or –

“-a truck.”

Walter didn’t realize Scully was talking.

“What?”

“It looks like the damage was done by a large truck or van, sir.  The dents are up higher than another car would allow, and deeper, suggesting a larger vehicle.”  She turned to the two officers.  “Was the door open when you found it?”

“Yes, ma’am” replied the younger of the two.

She looked over at Walter and they shared a silent moment of hope.  If the door was open, perhaps Mulder had walked away from the accident.

Inspecting the inside of the car, Scully felt that hope fade.  She didn’t realize she had said anything aloud, but at her murmured “Oh, god,” Walter pushed forward to crouch beside her.

The steering wheel, dashboard and driver’s seat were splashed with blood.  The passenger seat was spattered lightly as well, and Walter felt his heart leap into his throat when he saw that Mulder’s gun, I.D. and jacket were lying in a heap there.

“So much blood…” he whispered.  He had seen so many crime scenes in his career, so much more blood than this, but he’d never felt the sick horror now curdling in his stomach.  He’d never been so close to a case, not even with Sharon, not even when he had been the prime suspect.

“The large amount of blood seems indicative of a scalp wound, which would be consistent with crashing the car into the ditch.”  Scully had regrouped and become all business.  Walter knew she was hiding her own fears in forensic terminology, and he briefly admired her for it.  He understood how Fox could love her as he did.  He just nodded encouragingly, and received a quick hand squeeze for his efforts.

“We should get the car to impound,” he said.  “We can have a team go over it and see if we can’t find out who did this.  There should be paint evidence, maybe tire tracks or even prints, if the perp decided to see if the job got done.”  Walter realized that he sounded as detached as Scully had, and was surprised at himself.  He wondered if Scully felt the same.

“We can find out if the police have started their search of the area, maybe assist them somehow, while the car is being checked,” Scully suggested.  Walter nodded, then called the two policemen who had given them access to the car over to him.  He stood up and gave them his best in-charge look.  He didn’t know if it worked; he definitely didn’t feel in charge…of anything.  But the police listened as he explained what they had found and what they wanted.

The car had only just been found, and when the license had been traced back to Mulder, the call had been put into the office.  No one had touched anything, nor had any search been initiated.  Walter gave the police orders to begin a search of the surrounding area immediately; he didn’t care how many men had to work overtime on this.  Then he explained that he needed to have the car towed to Quantico, where experts could begin to piece together the events based on physical evidence.

“Special Agent Scully and I will start the search while you are calling in more men.  No one except officers from your department are to enter this area.  Is that perfectly clear?”

The two men hastened away to begin acting on his orders.  Only then did Walter let his worry show as his posture sagged for a moment.

“Sir?”  He felt Scully tug at his sleeve.

“I’m fine, Scully.  Just worried.”

“I am too, sir.”

…I-I-Where am I?  Oh, think I- I remember being in the car…with Walter?  No…Where the hell is the car?  Did someone hit me?  It’s so hot-why is it so hot?  I can’t see-oh, my eyes-I was trying to-I knew who he was…in the truck…what truck?  It’s hard to think…okay so, car forced off the road…I think I’ve got that. I think that’s what-oh, my head hurts…Where am I?  It’s dark, it’s hot-I think-I think my eyes are swollen shut.  Did I hit my head?  What about the blood?  Was there blood.  Oh, god Mulder, think…I’ve got to try to-OW! Shit!  Now I can see, but my nose is bleeding-nice trade-off…It’s still dark…How long have I been here?  I’m outside…somewhere…I’m-Walter is always saying I need to get more fresh air-I was thinking about Walter when…I should get up-I want to get up-oh, I can’t get up.  I’m so hot…
What was that?
Shit
Where’s my gun?
Oh, shit
I can’t see-can’t tell who-
Oh my god
Sam?  Samantha?  Is that you?  Samantha!