By Michele (starshine24mc@yahoo.com)
Rating: NC17
Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: M/Sk
Date: January 6, 2001
Beta: none
Spoilers: War of the Coprophages, SR819, Kitsunegari, who knows what else…
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.  Josan, thank you for the beautiful picture of Walter as dom you created-tres elegant! This one's for you...

***

Grover's Mill
11:21 p.m.

Scully offered the cream pitcher, and Walter waved it away absently, sipping at his black coffee and burning his mouth.

They were the only two patrons of the tiny cafe. The sign out front of the "Dew Drop Inn" proclaimed that they were open twenty-four hours, but it was painfully apparent that no one else was.  The only waitress in the place had seated them, slopped coffee into cups, slapped menus onto table, then retreated quickly behind the counter, lit a cigarette and glared at them balefully, almost daring them to ask more of her than that.

Scully tipped cream into her coffee, stirred thoughtfully for a moment, then said,

"How long, sir?"

Walter didn't reply right away, and when he did, his answer caught her off-guard.

"Do you remember the Bowman case?"

Scully flashed briefly on the second pusher who had almost forced Mulder to shoot her.  She nodded and Walter continued, obviously weighing his words carefully.

"He was right about all of it, from start to finish, and he was still beating himself up over it."

"Mulder's always been one to borrow guilt," Scully agreed. "I think his parents taught him that."

"I've seen it from him so many times," said Walter, "but-but this time I couldn't let it go.  I just wanted him to know that he'd done a  good job-I mean really know it."

"You must have been very persuasive."

Walter scrutinized her carefully, but could find no sarcasm, just a hint of friendly tease.

"What did you do?" she pressed.

"I didn't know he didn't drink.  There was nothing in his jacket about it-"

"Oh, no."

"I guess it was a point of pride to match me drink for drink. Arrogant bastard." But he was smiling warmly when he said it, and Scully matched him, even as she said again,

"Oh, no."

"He threw up on my shoes.  Not the most auspicious of beginnings, but-"

"Oh, sir!" she exclaimed laughing. "The Bush Nunns!" She remembered now noticing the new shoes, and commenting to Mulder about them. Well, at least this explained the blush and uncomfortable silence.

"I had to throw them away!" He was laughing too, surprising Scully, who had thought her superior incapable of mirth of any sort.  His laugh was deep, full and infectious, although Scully suspected that worry was as much to blame for their near-hysterics at the vision of Fox Mulder doing a technicolour yawn all over his boss's shoes.

"Then what?" she asked, as their laughter tapered off.

"He passed out on my couch, and I left him there.  I had no desire for a repeat performance all over my car's interior, and I didn't have the heart to just dump him into a cab."

"Considerate," Scully said.  Then her eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Then what?"

"Then," Walter replied stiffly, "I went to bed."

"Alone?"

"Yes, alone." Suddenly defensive.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean-"

"That's alright, Scully.  You're a good friend to him."

They shared a silent moment of concern for the man they both loved in their own way.

"I woke up a couple of hours later," Walter continued.

Realization dawned on Scully's face.

"He had a nightmare, didn't he?" she exclaimed.

"I-yes-how did you-does it happen often?" Walter had signed enough of their 302s that he probably knew as much about their sleeping habits as they did themselves.

"Not so much anymore.  Guess I know why.  Now."

"I don't know if he was still drunk, but he was crying and yelling and-"

"Oh, I know, sir."

"I thought I'd just shake him, you know, wake him up-"

Scully was smiling again.

"Did he hit you?"  She had her own memories of waking her partner when he was in the throes of his nightmares.

"He's hit me harder before, but I wasn't going to give him a chance to do it again.  I told him to quit it..."

*...just quit it, Mulder!  Wake up, damnit!

*Scully?  Scully!!

*Mulder, it's me, Skinner.  Walter Skinner-

*No!  Oh, God, Scully! No-no-no-no-

*Mulder, wake up!

*Scully?...Oh, God, NO!!

*Mulder?  That's better.  Are you with me here?

*Oh, god, sir-I-I-oh, shit...

*Hey, Mulder.  Hey-it's all right...shhh...there, there, you're all right, shhh...

*Sir, I'm sorry, I-I-

*Shhh...You're fine, Mulder.  It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep now-

*No! Sir...sir-p-please...stay?

*All right...shhh...I will.  I am.  It's all right...it's okay.  I'm right here. I've got you...

*Sir...?

"Sir?"  Scully's voice dragged him reluctantly back to the situation at hand.

"So I stayed up all night, got a crick in my neck from the damned couch, and that was it."

"So what are you suggesting sir?  That based on projectile vomiting and prolonged night terrors, you and he were able to start a relationship?"

"Thank you, Scully, you make it sound so romantic."

"Somehow, sir, I just never had you pegged as the romantic type.  And I've seen Mulder's idea of romance."  She was smiling again, and Walter felt an absurd urge to reach out for her hands and just hold them, as if, for a moment, he could be closer to Mulder by being closer to his best friend.

He reached for his coffee instead, which had cooled considerably.  He glanced over at their waitress, looking for assistance, sympathy, a refill...

The radio, which had sat mute between them all this time, suddenly came to life with a burst of static and a man's voice.

"Agent Scully?  A.D. Skinner? This is Detective Josan, are you there?"

*...big problem here.  It seems lighter in here, somehow, but with all the drapes so dark and musty, I can't see as well as I'd like to.  Or maybe I wouldn't-main thing is the heat. It's not that hot in here, I don't think...I think it's me...Great...never mind being run off the road, nearly beheaded by the windshield, lost, apparently kidnapped and trussed up like a Christmas goose-now I've got the goddamned flu! Shit! Wonder what happened to that little girl...didn't sound good, whatever it was-
What was that?
someone coming?
Light's too bright-can't see-okay, hurts, but better-
Holy shit, lady, you ever heard of the ab-roller?
What's she got there?  a needle...A needle?  god, If she's a nurse, I'm Marilyn Monroe! -can't move-damned straps-
You're going to what?  No way, lady, you're insane! No!
...room spinning...what the hell did she...got to try...
next time I won't think about it, Walter, I'll just say...