Only the Brave Know How to Forgive(1/1)
By Keleka
Email: keleka@keleka.net
Distribution: Gossamer, Spookys, Xemplary,
etc.
Rating: NC-17 
Spoiler Warning: Post ep for "Avatar"  (If you
haven't seen the ep, this isn't going to make any
sense.)
Classification: S
Keywords: Skinner/Scully angst, Skinner/Scully
romance, Skinner POV
Summary: Scully and Skinner come to terms with
his actions in "Avatar."  

Archive: Sure! Please tell me where so I can
visit.
Disclaimer: Get real!  If I owned this cash
cow, do you really think I'd be living in
Mississippi? 
Feedback:  It's certainly welcome in my
house!
Author's Note: Profound thanks to a great trio of
betas, Fabulous Monster, Shoshana, and Char
Chaffin.  I know it was tough on them--they're all
confirmed MSR fans.  Thanks also to members of
Scuttlebutts (a Sk/Sc mailing list) who kindly looked
over early drafts.  And, even though she stubbornly
refused to read this and bitched at me the whole time
I was writing it, thanks to TBishop for her
inspiration.

This started out as a standalone story, but so 
many people asked to see how the relationship
began and developed that it's turned into a four
part series.  The prequels are "Crossing the Rubicon"
and "Walking on Eggshells."  The sequel is "When
This is Over."

Please see additional notes at end of story.
All my fanfic (X-Files, Hawaii Five-0, and Star
Trek) can be found at
http://www.keleka.net/keleka/



Only the Brave Know How to Forgive
by Keleka


It isn't until the funeral that I realize how totally
alone I am now.  Sharon's family is here, of course,
but my relationship with them is strained and
awkward.  They know Sharon filed for divorce. 
They know how unhappy she had been the last few
years and, rightly, they blame me.  Her friends are
here too, but they serve merely to remind me that
we had no friends as a couple.

The only mourners here for me are Agents Mulder
and Scully.   I know they're here to support me, but
I wish they hadn't come.  Their presence merely
reminds me of how pathetic my life has become.  I
have no friends--only subordinates, colleagues, and
co-conspirators.  

After Sharon's family and friends leave the grave
side, I wait stubbornly, wanting to watch as the
modest casket is lowered into the grave.  I think of it
as penance for all the other times I have not been
there for her.  Mulder and Scully stand quietly a few
feet behind me.

Just four days earlier, I had refused to sign the
papers that would make our divorce final.  It was a
knee-jerk reaction fueled by my stubbornness and
pride.  She had left me eight months earlier only
because I had already deserted her emotionally years
before.   I close my eyes and remember how she had
come to me two days ago after she learned I had
been suspended and was suspected of murder. 

"I just want you to let me in," she said, reaching for
me, stroking my cheek.  "Just this one time."

"Why?" I asked with no kindness in my voice. 
Looking into her soft green eyes, I could barely
maintain the emotional wall I had built around my
heart.   Her thumb gently caressed me, nearly
making me lose my resolve.

"Because I know you.  I know that you're scared
and you could use some comfort."  

I could have saved my marriage that day.  After
seventeen years, it all came down to that one day,
that one moment.  I could have admitted that I was
afraid and confused.  I could have accepted her
comfort.  I could have let her into my life in a way I
hadn't in years.  Yet I turned away in stony silence,
knowing the hurt I was causing.  I knew Sharon
could no longer be a part of my life: there was my
work, the Consortium to contend with, and a fragile
new relationship I was desperate to protect.

"I also know that you'll never let me give it to you," 
Sharon said with sadness.  She stepped away
reluctantly, pulling her coat on and looking at me
one last time with regret-laden eyes.   "Take care of
yourself, okay?"

The feel of a light touch on my elbow brings me out
of my memories with a start.

"Sir?"

I turn to see solemn hazel eyes, the concerned eyes
of Fox Mulder.  The younger man grasps my elbow
and gently steers me away from the open grave.  "I
think it's time to go, sir."  With a last glance at my
wife's casket, I turn to leave.

By the time we reach our cars, I have recovered
enough to pull away from Mulder.  I look briefly at
Scully, hoping she can read my mind; there are so
many things I want to say to her, so many apologies
I need to make but can't.  I know she may never give
me the chance.  She turns away, unable to meet my
gaze.  I can hardly blame her.  I excuse myself
abruptly and seek refuge in my car.


                    ***


It is dark by the time I return home.  I went for a
drive after leaving the funeral.  I'm not sure where
I'd gone.  Virginia, I think.  Blacksburg and back,
maybe.  I hadn't really been paying attention.  I'd
been running on autopilot since leaving the
cemetery.

I stop at the door to my apartment and slump
against the doorframe for a moment.  I'm exhausted. 
Yet, I'm not sure I can face the solitude that waits
for me inside.  "Oh well," I mutter, sliding my key
into the lock and pushing the door open.  "I might as
well get used to it."

Despite my melancholy, my cop's instincts are alert. 
I can sense the presence of someone in my
apartment.   I pull my weapon from its holster and
reach for the light switch.

"Federal Agent," I bark as I flip on the light.  "I'm
armed."

My precaution is unnecessary.  Dana Scully is curled
up on my sofa.  I can tell that she had been sleeping
until my words of warning startled her awake.  She
pulls herself up, her eyes locked on the weapon
pointed at her and her hand reaches instinctively for
her own.  Lucidity comes to her in two heartbeats as
she raises her eyes to mine.  She lets her hand fall
away from her weapon.

I don't move.  Scully cocks her head questioningly. 
Finally, she raises her hands in mock surrender. 
"Don't shoot."  Her words bring me back to my
senses and I holster my weapon.

"Dana.  I...I wasn't expecting you."  What an
understatement.  After the events of this week, I
hadn't expected her ever to want to see me again
outside of work.

"We were worried about you."  She pauses.  "I was
worried about you, Walter," she says, settling back
against the sofa cushions.  "Where have you been?"

I lower my eyes and take a few steps into the living
room.  I stall for time, first shrugging off my
overcoat and hanging it up.

"I went for a drive," I say before disappearing into
the kitchen.  When I return, I carry two bottles of
Rolling Rock beer.  I hand her one before removing
my suit jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.  I
hesitate for a moment before sitting beside her on
the sofa.  

Scully surprises me by slipping her arm around my
waist and pulling herself closer.  She looks at her
watch.  "A drive?  For nine hours?"

I take a long draw on my beer.  "Yes," is all I can
say.

We sit in silence for several minutes.  Scully rests
her head against my shoulder and seems to search
for the right words to express what she is feeling. 
Frankly, I'm not sure whether I want her to find
them.  The silence becomes unbearable.

"We need to talk about this, Walter.  I know it's
probably not a good time, but...I doubt if there ever
will be a good time."

"Why do women always want to talk about things?"
I snap, regretting it immediately.  I see her fight to
squelch her anger.

She continues evenly.  "I think you know me well
enough to know that I don't like to talk about my
feelings either.  But if we don't--"

"If we don't, it's over, isn't it?"  I turn to her and am
saddened by the hurt I see in her eyes.  I can't
believe how strong my feelings for her have become
in just four months. 

"I thought I knew you," she says softly, lowering her
eyes.  "This is why Sharon left you, isn't it?  Because
you wouldn't talk to her.  Because you shut her out
of your life."  

I reach for Scully's free hand.  Her fingers are cold
and stiff.  They are the fingers of Agent Scully, the
pathologist, not the warm, supple fingers of Dana
Scully, my lover.  She's right.  I'm trapped in a
vicious cycle of shutting out the most important
people in my life.  The warmth of her gaze
juxtaposed with the chill of her fingers makes me
pause.  Looking into her warm blue eyes, I vow I
will not let it happen again.  I rub her hand between
mine to warm it.  I need to feel the hand of my lover. 


"I'm sorry, Dana.  I should have told you I was
married."

Scully seems to sense the change in me immediately. 
She gives my hand a gentle squeeze, encouraging me
to talk.  I am surprised at how easily I go from
stubborn silence to holding back nothing.  I tell her
how I shut myself off from everyone after the
Consortium began stealing my life piece by piece.
Eventually I found there was no one left to turn to.

Scully listens quietly to my catharsis.  Regardless of
what happens to our personal relationship, I fear that
what I've told her will irreparably damage our
professional relationship.  How can she possibly
respect me as her superior after this?  I can see that
some of what I've said has overwhelmed her.  But I
want her to know.  I need her to understand how the
Consortium seduced me, and how I work behind the
scenes to protect her and Mulder.  

I watch the evolution of her facial expression as she
struggles to assimilate everything.  Finally telling
someone the truth about my involvement with the
Consortium and admitting my despondency seems to
cleanse me of long-held guilt.  I wait for her
reaction, knowing that it could mean the end of our
relationship, and possibly the end of my career.

"Dana?" I say softly.  When she doesn't respond, I
ask,  "Tell me what you're thinking.  Please."

"I was dumbstruck when Sharon said she was your
wife," Scully says finally, her voice trembling
slightly.  "But, after learning more, I understood
why you hadn't told me.  I don't like that you kept it
from me, but I understand."

"Dana, we were just starting to see each other; there
was our professional relationship to think about;
there was Mulder...," I say, struggling for the words. 
"I just didn't want to complicate things further by
mentioning Sharon."

She nods, quietly accepting my explanation.  She
moves closer and her eyes lock with mine.  I dread
her next question.

"What I don't understand though, ... if our
relationship is so special to you, why did you sleep
with a complete stranger?  A prostitute?"

I wince at the harshness of her words.  "I didn't
know she was a prostitute," I say, knowing that isn't
really her point.  I pull my hand from hers and reach
for her cheek.  "I didn't mean to hurt you," I say.

Scully leans into my hand.  Her eyelids drift shut as I
gently caress her cheek with my thumb.  Her lips are
pursed tensely and I know she needs more than my
apology before she can forgive my transgression.  I
yearn to pull her close and show her how much she
means to me.

"Then why?" she asks, softly.  "Why did you go to
Corinne?  A stranger?  Why couldn't you come to
me?  I thought we were building something here.  I
thought we were building trust, and now--"

"I don't know what to say."  

"What were you thinking?  Aren't I enough?  Is
there something you need that I haven't given you? 
Help me understand, Walter."

She thinks this is her fault?  That somehow she's
failed me and driven me into the arms of a stranger? 
I am only now beginning to realize what my
impulsiveness that night has cost me.  How can I
make this right?  How can I explain the
unforgivable?

"I had too much to drink."

I've always known Dana Scully could fire off
daggers with her eyes.  Ask any employee of the FBI
who has ever crossed her.  Now I know she can
flash-freeze with those eyes too. I can feel the icy
cold stare going straight to my heart.

"You can do better than that."

"I wish I could, Dana.  I really wish I could.  When I
look back on that night all I can remember, really, is
how angry I was...at Sharon.  At myself."

"So angry that you hopped in bed with the first
woman who came along?  That doesn't make much
sense, Walter."

"Dana, I know you're angry--"

"Damn right I'm angry!"  She pulls herself out of my
arms and to her feet, putting both physical and
emotional distance between us.  Her eyes lock on
mine.  "I need to know, Walter.  I need something.  I
need a reason not to--"

"Not to leave me," I finish for her.

"Yes, damn it.  A reason not to leave you."

I search frantically for the words that will make this
right.  "I don't know why I did it.  It wasn't for sex. 
It wasn't for companionship.  It wasn't because of
anything you've done or haven't done.  In some
perverse way, I think I might have been punishing
myself.  Sex with a perfect stranger is about as low
as a man can sink, isn't it?"

I stand and walk slowly toward her, praying quietly
that she won't push me away. With her shoes off,
she seems so small and fragile. She raises her eyes
and now I can see that her anger masks the hurt she
feels. I raise my hand and gently touch her cheek.
My heart breaks when she flinches at my touch.

"I'm sorry I can't offer any better explanation than
that. I wish I could tell you I was drugged or
temporarily insane...but all I can offer you is the
truth."

I see her eyes widen at the mention of 'the truth.'
Slowly, I realize that I have struck a chord with her:
in her world of deception, subterfuge, and
disinformation, perhaps my honesty--no matter how
painful--is what she needs. I remember a favorite
quote from my father: "Only the brave know how to
forgive," and I pray that she can find that strength.

Tears threaten to spill from her eyes; she bites her
lower lip to keep it from trembling.  My hand shakes
as I move it to her shoulder, unsure what she wants
or what she will accept from me.  Slowly, I move
closer and gently kiss her cheek.  "I'm sorry, Dana,"
I whisper.  My heart breaks again as I realize this
may be our last kiss.

I don't know what else I can say or do.  It's her
decision now.  I can only hope she has it in her heart
to forgive me.  I pull away from her slowly, not
wanting to let her go, but knowing she will need
space now.  She is a rational being.  She will want to
think it through and weigh all the consequences. 
Scully has never acted with haste regarding affairs of
the heart.

I move to the front window.  I open the blinds and
stand alone, watching the rest of the world go by.  A
full minute passes, the silence marred only by the
sound of horns down the street.  Suddenly there is
the sound of a cellular phone bleating.  I know it's
not mine; I turned it off when I left the cemetery.

"Scully," I hear her say.  I turn and see she has her
cell phone to her ear.  It's Mulder.  I'd bet on it.

"No," she says.  "No, Mulder.  I'm not home."  She
listens for a moment and then looks at me.  "I'm at
Skinner's."

I'm not sure whether this is good news or bad news. 
We've been careful not to let him find us together
alone.  That's why I never go to her apartment.  He
tends to drop by unannounced.

"No.  No.  I think it would be best if I stayed here
tonight."  I'm sure my eyes widen at this.  She gives
me a weak but reassuring smile.  I notice there are
tears in her eyes.  "No, Mulder, really.  I can handle
it.  He...he just needs to talk.  Yes, I'm crying.  It's
okay, Mulder.  Really.  Yes, I'll call if I need you. 
Goodnight, Mulder."

She closes her phone.  "Mulder is worried about
you" she says quietly.  She stands and stretches.  I
see her wipe furtively at her eyes.

"I appreciate his concern," I say.  "Does he know
about us?"

"I haven't told him."

"You told him about my sleep disorder."

She nods.  "I'm sorry I had to do that.  It was
necessary to the investigation.  I didn't tell him how I
knew, but there are no notes in the file indicating
that I found out through standard investigative
avenues."

"Then he knows."

"I haven't told him," she repeats, "but he's not
stupid.  He may have figured it out by now."

"He loves you, you know."  Damn.  Why did I say
that?

"We've been through a lot together...I love him,
too." She smiles softly at the panic she must see in
my eyes. She lays the cell phone on the sofa and
moves close to me, tentatively touching my arm.
"There's just one problem with that."

I draw in a sharp breath.  "What's that?" I manage to
croak out.  I put my hands on her waist, feeling
privileged to be permitted this touch.

"The problem," she whispers, "is that I'm IN  love
with you."

I'm sure this jackhammer I hear is my heart.  I
couldn't have heard her right.  "W...w...what?" I
stammer.  Her hands slide up until they reach my
shoulders and she tugs me down. It's hell having a
girlfriend who is a foot shorter than I am.

"You heard me," she whispers, her lips just barely
brushing my own.  When she pulls back, she has a
curious look on her face.  There's hesitancy there,
but there is also forgiveness.

"Are you just going to stand there with that goofy
look on your face, Walter, or are you going to make
love to me?"

I'm a lucky man, I think as I whisk her off her feet
and carry her to the bedroom.

                         ***

The first time Scully and I made love, I was
surprised by her boldness.  I had been expecting
demure, deferential, and shy.  I'd been expecting the
'Ice Princess.'  What I found instead was a woman
who knows what she wants and isn't shy about going
after it.  It threw me off balance at first but it didn't
take me long to realize what a treasure I had found.  

Tonight is no exception.

"Get undressed," she says in that no-nonsense way
of hers after I lower her to her feet beside the bed. 
"I'll be right back."  She disappears into the
bathroom.

I'm still reeling from Scully's revelation in the living
room.  She loves me.  She loves me?  My mind is
busy chewing on those three words while I shift
back into autopilot and strip down to my briefs.  I sit
on the side of the bed while I wait for her to do her
nightly routine.  I know part of this is theatre.  She
likes to leave me waiting, knowing that anticipation
is a powerful aphrodisiac.  

I hear the bathroom door open.  When she emerges,
she has my robe loosely draped around her and her
hair is wet and slicked back.  She has showered and
washed her hair.  I've never understood her need to
be pristinely clean before getting all hot and sweaty. 
She smiles at me and crosses to the dresser where
she lights several candles.  She lights three more on
the night stand before turning off the bedside lamp.  

In the remaining light, she is ethereal.  The flames
give her pale skin a radiant, healthy glow.  It is no
wonder she likes to make love by candlelight.  

She steps up to me now.  When I bought this bed, I
had no idea that someday I would be sharing it with
Dana Scully, but apparently something was guiding
me.  It's just the right height so that when I sit on its
edge and she stands before me, we are at the same
eye level.  I think that's why she likes to come to me
like this.

"You're beautiful," I say.

"So are you."

Now I'm blushing.  I'm sure of it.  She smiles. 
"Don't be embarrassed," she says just before closing
in to steal a gentle kiss.  I want to reach for her.  I
want to pull her to me and kiss her so she knows
she's been kissed.  But I wait, as always, letting her
set the pace.  In the past, I have hesitated to take a
more active role in our lovemaking for fear of
overwhelming her. However, looking at her in the
candlelight, I realize the truth: my fear is not for her,
but for me. I could easily lose myself to this
extraordinary woman.  

The pace she's chosen for tonight will probably be
the death of me.  She reaches for me, lightly tracing
the outline of my lips with her soft fingertips.  "You
have beautiful lips," she says.

"Dana, please don't...."

"Your ego needs a little stroking tonight."  I roll my
eyes and she laughs.  "Don't worry.  I'll stroke some
other parts too."  

"You don't realize what you do to me," I murmur
just before she moves in and captures my mouth
with hers.  Her lips are on fire and the fire spreads
quickly to my own.  My hands fumble to push back
her robe, moving to either side of her slim waist. 
She whimpers when I touch her, breaking the kiss
for a moment to look into my eyes, then moving
back hungrier.  I slide one hand up her back and into
her hair, holding her to me while I began my
counter-assault on her mouth, deepening the kiss.  I
slip my other hand to her ass, gently squeezing and
kneading her soft flesh.

Nothing else matters for several moments as we
devour each other.  Finally, she pulls away and rests
her forehead against mine while we catch our breath. 
I push the robe completely off her shoulders and she
lets it drop to the floor.  Now my hands roam freely
from her shoulders to her ass, squeezing here,
stroking there.  

"What part of 'get undressed' didn't you
understand?" she asks, her voice husky and deep. 
She pushes back and locks her eyes on mine, deadly
serious.

"Huh?"

She looks pointedly at my briefs, slipping one hand
down to tug on the waistband.  "What are these
doing here?"

I laugh.  She doesn't miss a trick.  "I thought you
might like to take care of those yourself.  I know
how much you enjoy unwrapping presents." Uh oh. 
Now she's got an evil glint in her eyes.

"Stand up," she says calmly, backing away from me
a few inches.  "You wouldn't want me to miss my
favorite part of foreplay, would you?"

"Favorite part?" I ask as I stand.  

"Uh huh."  She busies herself pulling my briefs down
over my hips.  When they fall to the floor, I kick
them away.  "I love watching you get hard," she
says.

"Um....I think you're a little late to the show."

"And whose fault is that?"

She gives me a little shove and I fall back on the
bed, but not before I get my hands on her and take
her with me.  Before I even have time to get my
bearings, she's kissing and licking me all over.  I can
feel the blood rushing to my groin as my cock
hardens and thickens.   

Scully's hand slips southward and I can feel her
gently caressing my erection with her fingertips.  She
knows that drives me insane.  She lifts her head long
enough to watch my face contort with pleasure as
her fingers work over me.  I can't stand it anymore. 
I have to touch her.  I lift my hand to cup her breast,
letting my thumb run softly over her nipple.

She draws in a sharp breath.  "Not yet, Walter," she
says, pushing my hand away.

"Yes, Ma'am." I moan in frustration.

Her fingers stop dancing over my erection and her
eyes take on a strange, pained look.  She pulls back
from me and sits back on her heels.  I pull myself up
on my elbows and look at her with concern.  "What's
wrong?" I ask.

"'Yes, Ma'am'?"  Her voice is a strained whisper.

"What?" It takes me a moment to realize what I said
when she pushed my hand away from her breast.

She reaches for my hand and lifts it to her face, first
kissing my knuckles and then laying my palm against
her cheek.  Her eyes take on a sadness that I haven't
seen before.  "I've been too pushy in bed, haven't I? 
Too demanding."

"It's okay, Dana.  Really.  I like it.  I didn't mean
anything by that."

She looks at me with that irritating look that I'm
sure she learned from Fox Mulder.  The one that
says 'I don't believe you, asshole.'  Truthfully, I was
enjoying her ministrations. It's just so frustrating
always letting her take the lead; never being able to
let my guard down and make love to her the way I
want.  I pull myself up and lean against the
headboard.  Her look is inscrutable.  A full minute of
silence passes between us.

"How was it with Corinne?" she asks, finally, her
voice low and neutral.

"Dana, don't--"

"Make love to me the way you did to Corinne,
Walter."

I reach for her hand and pull her to me.  She lays her
head on my chest and I bury my face in her silky hair
and caress her shoulder with my fingers.

I move my lips close to her ear and whisper, "I can't
do that, Dana."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't make love to Corinne.  I fucked
her.  There were no feelings involved.  I can't do that
to you.  But I will make love to you the way I've
wanted to all this time.  But you have to trust me. 
Can you do that?"

"Of course," she says, then raises her head and
presses her lips to mine.  I break the kiss quickly and
give her what I hope is my most devilish grin.

"First thing we have to change is this," I growl.  She
just barely has time to lift one eyebrow before I flip
us over.  Now I'm on top, and she's pinned beneath
me.  Her breath comes in little gasps.  Her eyes
betray her trepidation.  It's easy to see why she
always wants to be on top.  She's so small that she
would have difficulty fighting off a man of my size. 
"Okay?" I ask.

She smiles at me gamely and slides a hand behind my
neck, pulling me to her.  The kiss begins gently
enough, but when I thrust my tongue into her
mouth, her passion is unleashed.  Our tongues battle
as we each set about exploring, teasing, tasting.  I
slide my hand to her breasts and tease her taut
nipples, pinching them lightly.  Her legs begin to
squirm and she makes little mewling noises that
encourage me.

I leave a trail of kisses down her neck until I reach
one of her nipples, capturing it in my mouth, and
tantalizing it with my tongue and teeth.  Her hands
clutch at my shoulders and she squirms so hard that
I throw a leg over hers to hold her still.  I turn my
attention to her other breast and move my hand
down her stomach.  She gasps when I slip my
fingers through her curls and then slide them
between her folds.

I know she's enjoying this.  She's wet and swollen
and pushes herself against my fingers.  My thumb
finds her clit and strokes it softly.  "Oh yes," she
hisses, making my cock twitch with mounting
excitement.

Now comes the test.  Slowly I begin to kiss my way
down her chest and stomach.  I'm sidetracked for a
moment by her navel, but then I use my hands to
push her legs open and I crawl between them, my
eyes focused on my target.

"No!  Walter, please, don't."  I lift my eyes and see
the panic on her face.  She has never let me do
this--she has told me she's never let anyone do it.

"Please trust me to do this," I say, slipping one of
my meaty fingers into her opening and pushing it in
deep.  God, she's so hot and tight my mind is
spinning.

Her breathing is fast and shallow.  If she doesn't
calm down she'll hyperventilate.  "Relax, Dana.  Let
me do this for you."

"I don't like it," she says, scrambling a little to pull
away from me.

"How do you know?  You've never let anyone do it. 
Please, Dana.  I want to taste you.  Let me do this. 
If you don't like it, I'll never ask again."

She's thinking it over.  That's her problem.  She
treats everything as an intellectual exercise, even
sex.  "I know what you're afraid of, Dana."  She
raises an eyebrow at me.  "You're afraid of being
open and vulnerable.  You're afraid of not being in
control.  You need to let go.  Let go for me, Dana."

She blinks several times before nodding and settling
back on the bed.  Her body is tense so I decide to
spend some time helping her relax first.  I plant
gentle kisses along the insides of her thigh while I
slowly stroke her with my finger.  

This woman is incredible.  I'm a reluctant participant
in the global conspiracy she spends her days fighting. 
I didn't tell her I was married.  I slept with another
woman.  Yet she still trusts me to do this for her. 
Still wants me.  Still loves me.  How did I get so
lucky?  

I lift my head for a moment to check on her.  Her
eyes are closed and I can't tell how she's taking this.  

"You know, in the Marine Corps we called this
'Canyon Yodeling.'"  That gets her attention.  She
opens her eyes and looks at me.  I give her my most
engaging smile.

"You're kidding!"  She laughs and I feel some of the
tension easing out of her body.

"We had other names for it too," I add before
pressing the flat of my tongue to her and licking in
slow circles.  Her hips buck a little and I think
maybe I've gotten through to her finally.

"Oh yeah?  Like what?"  Her breathing is becoming
labored and shallow.

Oh good.  She wants to play.

"Like 'Smoking the Fur.'"  

She giggles then gasps as I push a second finger into
her.  

"And 'Playing in the Sandbox.'" 

Nip, gasp, giggle.

"And 'Tuna Taco.'"   

That did it.  Now she's laughing hard.  Her legs relax
and spread further, opening herself to me fully.  

"You...Marines...are a...crude...bunch," she says
between gasps.

"The few, the proud."  I suck her clit between my
lips and am rewarded with a deep-throated moan
and some serious squirming.  I feel her hands on my
head, caressing me softly.  It's time to get down to
business.

I've been told that when I put my mind to
something, I can be formidable.  It's a reputation I've
always been proud of, and I decide to put it to the
test here between Scully's legs.  I have a goal: to
make her come so hard she'll want to make this a
regular part of our love life.

I push my fingers deep into her, finger-fucking her in
a steady rhythm.  I press my mouth to her clit,
alternately sucking and licking.  My free hand drifts
north until it finds and latches onto one of her
sensitive nipples, pinching gently and flicking it with
my index finger.  I silently give thanks to the
Multi-tasking Workshop the FBI runs for its
high-level managers.  Who knew it would come to
such good use?

Soon, she is responding to my actions with growing
enjoyment.

Lick.  Gasp.

Suck.  Moan.

Flick.  Squirm.

Pinch.  Squeal.

We go on like this for several minutes.  When her
hands leave my head and start grabbing madly at the
sheets, I know my goal is within reach.  I add a third
finger, pushing deeply.

"Oh God, Walter!" she cries out, her back arching
and her hips bucking wildly against my mouth. 
Success!  I feel the electricity of her orgasm as it
explodes in her clit and speeds through her sex until
my fingers burn.  I stay with her through it until I
feel her body begin to go slack.  When she collapses
against the mattress completely spent, I kiss both
thighs gently and slowly kiss my way back up her
body until I bury my face in her neck.  She's
speechless and gasping for air.

"You were incredible," I say softly, nipping gently at
her neck.  She's very quiet, her eyes looking off into
the distance.  As I watch, tears come to her eyes but
she blinks them back.  Oh God.  Now what have I
done?   "Dana?"

Slowly she turns to look at me, her hand reaching
for my chest and gently caressing me with her
fingertips.  Her bottom lip begins to quiver and she
bites down on it.

"I'm sorry.  I won't ask you to do it again."  I push
away in frustration and lie on my back beside her,
my eyes closed.  I don't seem to be able to do or say
anything right tonight.  It was vain of me to think
that this exceptional woman could want me after
everything that's happened.  

I feel the bed bounce a little and I assume she's
leaving.  I block out my senses and wonder what I
should do about my career.  Early retirement and
exile to Alaska sounds good right now.  I could be a
hermit.  Live in a shack.  Go primitive.  Never hurt
anyone ever again.

I'm jolted back to reality when I realize that the
tickle I feel on my nose is from Scully's hair.  She
has turned and is resting her head on my chest.  She
reaches for the blanket and pulls it over us.  Then
her hand finds mine and our fingers tangle under the
cover.  We lie quietly for several moments.

I've about decided she has fallen asleep when her I
hear her voice and feel her breath against my skin. 
"Walter, I loved what we just did.  I'm sorry we
didn't do it sooner."

"Then why the tears, Dana?"

"Tears aren't always for sadness, Walter."

How could I not love this woman?  Why haven't I
told her I love her?  It would make her happy.  It
might make up for some of the pain I've caused her.

"Dana.  Dana, I...I...need you."  Shit.  That didn't
come out right.

"I know you do."

I try again.  "Dana, I--"

"You don't have to say you love me, Walter.  I don't
want you to say it until you mean it.  It's enough for
me right now that you need me."

I don't know how to respond.  How could any man
find the words of gratitude for being given a second
chance and the time he needs to return the love he
has been given.  I'm in awe of her capacity to
forgive, love, and accept me with all my flaws.

Her hand drifts down, lingering over my stomach
where her fingers trace the definition of my muscles. 
I've been spending my lunch hours at the gym for
her and it pleases me that she notices.

Finally, her fingers reach lower and renew their
dance of seduction over my waning hardness.  In no
time at all, I am revived and straining against her
hand.  I wait now for her to take her customary
position above me, but she gives me another gift
when she tugs on my arm, encouraging me to move
over her instead.

Looking down at her flushed face, listening to the
sounds of her arousal, I am struck by her
vulnerability.  I envelop her completely, supporting
myself on my elbows.  I nuzzle her neck, nibbling
gently, and lose myself in the feel of her fingers as
they trace small patterns on my back.

A small eternity passes before I become cognizant of
her hands moving to my shoulders and gently
pushing me back.  I pull back and look at her,
puzzled.  Has she changed her mind?  Whatever
she wants, she need only ask.

She moves her arm, reaching for the night stand
drawer.  She pulls it open, searches for
something, and then, finding it, hands it to me.

A condom.  We haven't used these in over two
months, since our last blood tests came back clean. 
Then I remember:  I slept with a prostitute last
week.  She'll probably make me use these for a year. 
My disappointment is quickly shoved aside by the
memory of how close I came to losing her
altogether.

I sit back on my heels, tearing the package open.
Her hand strokes me firmly. Jesus. I'm not going to
last long if she keeps doing that. I gently push her
hand aside as I unroll the latex over my erection.

"Hurry," she whispers. Her eyes are bright with
desire. I did that to her. I turned the very prim and
proper Agent Scully into a wild woman tonight. I
feel a burst of pride just before I position myself
between her legs and scoop her up into my arms.

I watch pleasure wash over her face as I enter her. 
She is so beautiful, so trusting, that I feel tears fill
my eyes.  She wraps her legs around my waist,
pulling at me, encouraging me to go deeper and lose
myself within her completely.

Her eyes open and she smiles at me.  Her hand
reaches to wipe the wetness from my cheek, then
pulls me to her for a breathtaking kiss.  I begin
moving then, setting a painstakingly slow pace.  I
want to prolong this moment; if I can't tell her I love
her, perhaps I can convey it as we make love.

Time disappears.  She whispers to me continuously,
encouraging me, telling me how much she loves me. 
Eventually her whispers are replaced with gasps and
moans.  Her body tenses suddenly and she cries out. 
A moment later, I follow her into the abyss.

Afterwards, I pull her close and we share tender
endearments.  She begins to drift off and I listen to
her breathing slow and deepen.  As I stroke her
auburn hair, I reflect on the words she spoke earlier: 
'It's enough for me right now that you need me.' 
'Need' seems such an inadequate word for what I
feel.  I wonder whether I can find the courage to
forgive myself for all the pain I've caused her.  Can I
forgive myself for Sharon, Corinne, and the
Consortium?  If I can, I know Scully and I can start
a new life together.  Maybe then, I can express to
her what she means to me.  But for now, as I feel
myself falling asleep, I know that everything I need
is right here in my arms.



*end*


Author's notes:

This is my first, and almost certainly my last
Skinner/Scully romance.  [postscript: Okay, so
that didn't turn out to be true!]  It was
just something I wanted to do.  I've been 
exploring Skinner's character in other stories 
and my exploration would not be complete without 
writing a Sk/Sc romance. 
It's out of my system now.  :-)   It's also my first
attempt to write smut.  I don't think I'll be going
down that road too often.
                              
I want to give special kudos to Fabulous Monster
who stuck with me right from the beginning, even
after hyperventilating when she read Scully's "I'm
in love with you" line.  I couldn't have finished 
this without her. 
You should check out her stories at
http://www.atmosphere.be/media/fran58/fabmon/fab
mon.html