Title: The Color of Denial
Author: Philiater
Rating: NC-17
Category:  Skinner/Scully, MSR, Angst all around.
Rating: Strong R for language and sexual situations
Feedback:  Always appreciated and accepted with gratitude.
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philiater1@yahoo.com
Disclaimer:  These guys belong to Fox, CC and 1013. 


denial (de-nIŽal) 
An unconscious defense mechanism used to allay anxiety by
denying the existence of important conflicts or troublesome
impulses. Negation; [M.E., fr, O. Fr., fr. L. denegare, to
say no]                                                    
         Stedman's Medical Dictionary


Darkness.  He was surrounded by darkness.  A black empty
void without end and an absolute silence he could feel in
his head.  He thought death would be more painful, more
lyrical, and more abrupt.  This passing out of life was a
gradual journey.  He could feel what his life had been, but
no images crossed his eyes.  In all of it, he had only one
regret: Scully.

Scully, who had strength and beauty; who had suffered more
than any human being he had ever known.  And she had bore
it all.  He had watched her suffer, and suffered with her. 
He'd done everything he could to save her, but had failed
again.  She must feel the same about Mulder.  She'd
suffered most for him, and still she couldn't save him.

He didn't want to leave her.  She'd be so alone.  He'd
been her watch dog, her protector, and her eye in the
hurricane.  He wanted to return to her, but the peace in
the black void covered him like the dreaded alien oil.  He
sank into the silence with gratitude.

But she had other plans.

A sharp crack across his face caused light to spark behind
his eyelids.  Another forced them open to the angry face of
Dana Scully.  She was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear
the words.  She leaned toward him and put her mouth on his.
To his everlasting astonishment, he couldn't feel it.  She
leaned back again and pushed upward on his abdomen with
surprising force.

He felt a sudden burning tickle in his lungs; the urge to
cough was overwhelming. The next thing he knew he was
rolled on his side disgorging a horrifying amount of water
out of his lungs.  Scully was pounding on his back, causing
more coughing and spewing of water.

He took in a great lung-full of air that felt like razor
blades inside his tortured chest.  He finally could see,
feel, and hear again.  Scully's voice was sounding in his
ear.

"Don't you leave me, you understand?  You've got work to
do, mister.  You have a job to finish before you think
about dying on me."  She sounded pissed off.  What had he
done now?

He was gently rolled on his back again and saw Scully's
face.  She was worried, not angry.  Did she think she could
goad him into staying alive?  Apparently so.

Very softly he whispered to her, "Is that any way to
address your superior?"

Relief flooded her face and she buried her face in his
neck.  He felt her shaking sobs and it tore at his heart. 
He made a feeble attempt at putting his arm on her back in
a gesture of comfort. After a few minutes she seemed to
gather herself together and pulled back.

"Can you stand, sir?  I'm not strong enough to move you on
my own."

Skinner nodded yes, but wasn't entirely sure he could
comply.  Slowly, she helped him sit up, and he rested,
breathing heavily.  The memory of what happened came back
with a jolt.

He struggled to reach for his gun, but couldn't find it. 
Scully tried to stop his frantic movements, telling him the
danger was over.

"Sir, sir, he's dead.  You got him.  He tried to kill us
both, but you managed to stop him."

Scully's soothing voice finally penetrated his water-
logged mind. Yes, Simpson was dead.  He and Scully had been
out on the little wooden boat alone with him and he'd
pulled a gun on them.  Only his reflexes and Scully's
scream kept Simpson from blowing his head off.  They ended
up in the frigid water struggling for the gun.  Scully
managed to knock Simpson on the head with an oar, but not
before he'd held Skinner underwater until he was
unconscious.  That was the last thing he remembered.

Skinner looked around and found himself on a lakeshore,
still fully clothed, and shivering.

"How did I get here?"

Scully shifted uncomfortably.  "I wasn't strong enough to
pull you into the boat, so I had to tie you to the side and
paddle in.  I'm afraid you swallowed more water on the way.
I'm sorry"

He was dismissing her concern before she even finished the
sentence. "No, you couldn't have done anything else."  He
looked at her with genuine affection and she graced him
with one of her rare smiles.  Her obvious discomfort in the
cold air stirred him to action.

"Let's get out of here.  Are we anywhere near his cabin?"

"I thought I saw it just over the ridge behind us when I
was paddling in."

He nodded and struggled to stand on wobbly legs.  Scully
slipped under his arm and into his side to bolster him. He
thought of refusing her help, but he knew she'd get her
way. Lately he was letting her have way quite a bit. Guilt
had a way of making him pliant.

He knew the cabin wasn't far, but each step was an
enormous effort.  Even with Scully's help, his shoes felt
as if they were filled with sand.  Their business clothes
were soaked with lake water, and night was falling with the
temperature.  He could feel Scully's tiny body shiver with
the effort of moving forward through the undergrowth.  The
path to the cabin was hilly and riddled with obstacles. 
Scully cried out suddenly when she tripped over a tree
root. He was too late to catch her before falling down
himself.

They sat there panting, feeling exhausted, and ridiculous.
Scully's red suit was covered in mud, moss, and badly water-
stained.  He was no better, and felt like an awkward giant
clomping around the forest and trampling her in the
process. 

She didn't seem to hold it against him.  In fact she was
acting guilty.  He knew why.  She was following yet another
lead in an attempt to meet with Mulder safely.  He had
insisted on going with her, fearing super soldiers were hot
on the trail.  He was right. It had turned into an
unmitigated disaster.

He looked at her.  He could see exhaustion, and defeat in
her blue eyes.  He felt the familiar sensation of a knife
twisting in his heart over her obvious pain.  He also felt
the impotence of his inability to help alleviate that pain.
This was an all too familiar scenario, and one he hated
with a passion.

He did what he always did: put a reassuring hand on her
shoulder.  She allowed it and turned her head to rest her
cheek on the back of his hand. After a few minutes she told
him she was ready to move on.

They climbed the small hill the rest of the way to
Simpson's small cabin.  Once inside, Skinner moved to the
fireplace, the only source of heating he could see inside
the one- room dwelling.  He threw in logs and kindling and
reached for the box of long matches on the mantelpiece. 
The fire took quickly, and he stoked it until it was quite
hot.

He turned to find Scully next to him, her teeth chattering
noisily.  He grabbed her and shoved her toward the
fireplace.

"Stay here and I'll go to the car for our clothes."

Scully nodded, unable to stop her violent shivering.

Skinner fished the keys out of his pocket, grateful the
automatic locking mechanism hadn't shorted out.  His cell
phone, however, had not faired as well.  As he approached
the car he could see that all four tires had been slashed. 
Grimly he retrieved the suitcases and hurried back inside
the cabin.

He found Scully huddled in front of the fire, but she was
no longer shivering so violently.  She looked up at his
arrival and saw the angry scowl on his face.

"Simpson slashed all the tires on the car.  He certainly
wanted to make sure we didn't get out of here any time
soon."

"What about your cell phone?  Mine isn't working," Scully
asked with clear apprehension in her voice.

Skinner shook his head to indicate its nonfunctioning
status. 

"No one knows we're here," she said with fear in her
voice.  "What do we do now?"

Skinner knelt next to her.  "Actually the Gunmen know
where we are.  They have instructions to send help if they
don't hear from me by the morning."

Scully nodded.  "I guess I shouldn't be angry you told
someone."

His face assumed 'the annoyed A.D.' look.  "No, you
shouldn't.  Given our track record with these people, I
knew we couldn't leave without backup."

He saw Scully shiver again.  "Put your warmest clothes on
and I'll see if there's anything to eat in the kitchen."

Scully scurried to the bathroom, and Skinner quickly shed
his own wet clothing.  He put on thick white socks and soft
gray sweat pants and shirt.  The business suit was clearly
ruined, so he retrieved his belongings from the pockets and
threw it into the corner.  Even his white shirt was stained
with Simpson's blood and it soon joined the wrinkled suit
in the corner.

In the kitchen he found a small stash of canned goods.  He
located an iron pot and emptied the contents of several
cans in it to make a kind of Irish stew.  There was no
cooking stove, so he was forced to take it to the
fireplace.  Luckily, there was a swing arm he could hang
the pot on.

Scully joined Skinner at the fireplace and smiled
tentatively.  "Smells good."

"Well, it isn't much, but I'm so hungry it doesn't
matter."  He started coughing suddenly, and Scully found
herself pounding on his back.  He coughed even harder, and
Scully frowned at him.

"You're in danger of developing pneumonia from all the
water you swallowed.  Lungs don't like to have lake water
in them."
"Well, I don't like lake water in them, either,"  Skinner
said, trying to make light of the matter.  Scully still
frowned at him, but said nothing more about it.

When the stew was finally bubbling briskly, Scully handed
Skinner the blue granite plates and stainless spoons she
managed to find in the kitchen.  He spooned the stew out,
and they ate in silence.

Skinner took the time to look around the cabin.  There was
a red-checked love seat behind him that was far too small
for him to lie down on. There was a double bed against the
wall covered with a charming quilt.  Checkered curtains
adorned the windows, and he and Scully were sitting on a
handmade oval rag rug.  Skinner thought the cabin looked
too 'homey' to belong to a man like Simpson.  More than
likely he broke into it to appropriate it for his own
purposes.  The lake was a kind of remote resort area and
all the cabins they'd seen were empty.

Scully was staring into the fire, looking miserable.  How
many more times was she going to put herself through this? 
As if sensing his attention, she turned to look at him.

"I'm so sorry.  Seems like I'm always sorry when it comes
to you."  She sounded so defeated.

"Scully, we'll find a way to see him.  I'll make sure we
do."  He tried to sound reassuring, but even he was
starting to wear out.  "We're both exhausted. Let's go to
bed, and help will be here in he morning."

She nodded and automatically went to the love seat.

"Scully---"

She cut him off before he could protest.  "I'll sleep on
the sofa.  It's far too small for you. I'll be just fine."

He finally acquiesced, realizing she was right.  He pulled
one of the quilts off the bed and she wrapped herself in it
before settling on the love seat.  He slipped under the
covers gratefully, putting his wallet and glasses on the
nightstand.

"Good night, Scully"

"Good night, sir."

****************************


He wasn't sure what made him wake, a sixth sense perhaps,
but when he opened his eyes, Scully stood shivering beside
him.  Without a word, he raised the blanket and she slid in
beside him.  He gathered her into his warm embrace, and
rubbed her arms in an effort to warm her further.  When she
finally stopped shaking, he spooned next to her, and she
rested her arms over his.

He felt her breathing slow, and her body relax against
him.  When he rose up, he could see she was fast asleep. 
He felt a deep satisfaction that he could do that for her;
make her feel safe and warm in a world that seemed bent on
her destruction.  Unconsciously he tightened his hold on
her as if to protect her further.  He would die for her,
had almost done so.  But he also knew he would do it again
and again if necessary. With difficulty he finally was able
to doze beside her.

*****************************


When he woke, the first rays of a bleak sunrise shone
weakly on the cabin walls.  He looked down, and found
Scully had turned over in her sleep.  She lay facing him
now, her face pressed into his chest, and her arms pulled
up to her chest.  One knee was bent uncomfortably close to
his morning erection.

Relaxed in sleep with her face devoid of makeup, he
thought she looked more beautiful than he could remember.
Motherhood had made her slightly rounder, but it had also
added a maturity that made her glow.  He leaned down and
gently kissed her forehead, lingering a bit longer than
necessary.

She stirred, and opened her eyes.  When she looked at him,
he nearly stopped breathing; astonished by the depth of
emotion she was allowing him to see.  She smiled and
touched his face, tracing his brow line, down the sharp
ridge of his cheekbone and came to rest on his lips.

He held his breath as she lifted up and gently kissed his
mouth. Her lips were so sweet and soft on his.  She pulled
back to gage his reaction, and then repeated the kiss with
a little more pressure.  He deepened the kiss, returning
her eagerness with equal fervor.  Suddenly the gentle
caresses turned into passionate ones.  Her tongue demanded
entrance, and he willingly granted it.  Her small hand
slipped under his shirt and he gasped against her lips at
the intimate contact.

He pulled back momentarily and spoke the only words that
would pass between them that morning.  "Are you sure,
Scully?"  

In answer she slid her hand down and stroked his erection
through the soft cotton of his sweat pants. He sucked a
breath in and found himself groaning with pleasure.

After that there was a flurry of activity in an effort to
remove their clothing, each desperate to feel the contact
of the other's bare skin. The sweats made an untidy pile on
the floor, soon joined by white cotton underwear.  Nude at
last, Skinner drank in the sight of Scully's beautiful
body.  She was more exquisite than he had imagined, and his
eyes were greedy in their journey over her exposed flesh.

He saw her blush under his scrutiny, and it warmed his
heart.  He bent to her slowly, trailing kisses down her
throat to the valley between her breasts.  He nuzzled her
softly, like a baby rooting for a nipple. Tentatively, he
suckled one nipple to see if she was still sensitive.  She
answered with an arch of her back, and a pressure against
the back of his smooth head for him to continue.  He used
his tongue and teeth to elicit as much pleasure for her as
he could.  He moved to the other breast to give it just as
much attention as the first.  Scully groaned and gasped
with delightful urgency.  

As he moved lower, she parted her legs, revealing soft,
red curls.  She was impossibly wet for him and he found
himself unconsciously rubbing his erection on her leg.  His
hand dipped between her legs, and he rubbed her clitoris
with slow, agonizing strokes.  Her sudden orgasm caught him
by surprise and he chuckled low in his throat as she rode
it out, gasping loud in his ear.

She surprised him yet again when she gave him an impatient
push on the chest, indicating she wanted him on his back. 
She repeated his same path of kisses, mapping his chest to
his belly with a wet trail.  When she came to his heavy
erection, he gasped as she took him gently in her mouth. 
She sucked him so sweetly and expertly, he had to stop her
before he came too soon.

She made a noise of disappointment, but he kissed her
fears away and reversed their positions. Very slowly, he
pushed into her, finding her tight even after childbirth. 
She gave a small noise of pain and he paused to allow her
to get used to him.

He levered up and brushed her hair off of her face.  He
felt so much concern at her tensing, he almost pulled out. 
But she wrapped her legs around him and brushed her hand
over his face to smooth the concern away.

He started to move, thrusting slowly taking his time with
her.  He would always take his time for Scully. He watched
her for his cue to quicken the pace.  She was so responsive
to his every touch it made his heart ache.

When her breathing quickened, so did his thrusting.  She
tightened on him as her orgasm over took her and followed
close behind, bellowing his joy in the encounter.  They lay
spent in each other's arms, gasping and laughing at the
intensity they had found in each other.

Skinner rolled on his back, taking Scully with him.  He
put her on top of his body, cradling her fully against him.

A strange thought struck him and he reached on the
nightstand for his wallet.

"Scully."  He nudged her gently.  "Scully open your eyes,
I have something to give you."

She reluctantly turned her head and watched him open the
black leather wallet.  From a small, unseen pocket he
pulled a tiny tissue-wrapped object.  Sheepishly he handed
it over to her, hoping she would understand the gesture.

"I got this for you after you had William.  I was waiting
for an appropriate moment to give it to you."

She unwrapped the transparent white tissue and found a
ruby ring nestled in the center.  It was small, but
exquisitely designed.  I network of fine, filigreed gold
adorned the band, and the ruby was clear and had a rich,
red color to it.

"I saw this in an antique shop, and had the urge to buy it
for you. It reminded me of your hair---" He found his words
drying up as she remained silent, staring at the ring in
her hand.

He saw her lower lip start to tremble and to his horror
she began to cry.  She buried her face in his chest and
enormous sobs wracked her body.  He felt completely
bewildered.  Of all reactions, he never expected tears.

He waited patiently as she worked out whatever pain the
ring had elicited.  He murmured in her ear and stroked her
back gently.  Finally, she stopped, resting on his chest.

"I'm sorry Scully.  I never should have presumed-"

"NO."  Her declaration stopped him short.

"It's beautiful, Skinner.  Really beautiful.  I don't
deserve it."

He deliberately pulled her head back, forcing her to meet
his eyes.  "If anyone deserves some happiness, Scully, it's
you."  His eyes were soft, hoping she could see his love
for her, his sincerity in wishing only good for her and
William.

She took in a shuddering breath.  "You give and give, and
never ask for anything in return.  It isn't right."

He smiled then, and kissed her gently.  "Go to sleep,
Scully, and don't worry about it.  We'll be home soon."

She put the ring on and moved to lie on her side.  They
spooned together again in imitation of last night.  They
were soon fast asleep, each truly relaxed for the first
time in a long, long time.

They awakened only when the beating sound of a helicopter
came over the cabin.

End