Skinman 4: Clearing the Air (1 of 2)
Author: ML
Originally posted 10/19/04
Distribution: Ephemeral, Gossamer, yes; if you’ve archived me before, yes; otherwise, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: S8 and back
Rating: PG-13
Classification: S
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to Chris Carter, TenThirteen, and Fox Broadcasting. I mean no infringement, and I’m making no money.
Summary: A burden shared is a burden halved.
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Skinman 4: Clearing the Air by ML
The last of summer is fading. Skinner likes the crispness in the air in the mornings and the lingering warmth of the afternoons. Fall always makes him a little melancholy, as much as he will allow himself to feel such a thing. Maybe it’s a carryover from his boyhood, when this time of year signaled the end of carefree days and the beginning of responsibility once again.
He wonders if he would have spent his last summer as a child any differently if he’d known it would be the last carefree summer he would know. When he signed up and got ready for his tour of duty in Viet Nam, he naively thought that when he returned, everything would be the same as when he left. He’d had no idea that not only would everything at home change, but that he would change, too.
He’s not a fanciful man, but this summer feels like the first one he’s truly enjoyed since his boyhood. It’s the first summer since then that he’s had the warmth of a family around him, and the excitement of discovering love.
He hasn’t said this aloud yet, not to anyone. But he thinks that maybe it’s true. He’s kept that knowledge to himself for a while now, not even telling those closest to him what’s been happening. Hell, he hasn’t even told the object of his affection yet. Secrecy has become a habit over the years, and he tells no one anything except on a “need to know” basis.
This is different, he realizes. Now it’s not so much “need to know” as it is “need to tell.” He’s invited Scully and Mulder over for dinner tonight, which is something he’s done occasionally. This time, however, he’s invited Linda, too. He figures it’s about time the people he cares about most met each other.
He’d only met Linda Kimberly a few months before, but already she’s become an important part of his life. How important he is to her, only time will tell.
He parks his car and drifts with the crowd into the farmer’s market, scanning for the familiar form.
Although she’s short, he can always pick Scully out in a crowd. He sees her, smooth red hair covering her cheek, head bent over something at one of the booths. He scans around for evidence of Mulder and Will, but sees no tall, dark haired man hovering over her, and no stroller, either. This is a rare occasion. He doesn’t often see Scully without one or the other of her men in close attendance.
His shadow reaches her first and she looks up, a smile already on her face. “Good morning, Walter.”
“Hi, Dana,” he reaches out to shake her hand, but her hands are full of melons. He awkwardly pats her shoulder instead. She reaches up and kisses his cheek in greeting.
She smiles at him and holds up a melon. “Doesn’t this smell good?”
He takes a deep sniff. It smells like summer, and sunny mornings. His father at the breakfast table, salting the pale orange flesh of the cantaloupe before scooping out his first bite. “That’s a good one.”
She nods, and puts the other one back.
“What’s Mulder up to this morning? Has he got Will?” Skinner asks, looking around, half expecting Mulder to appear any moment.
“He had a faculty meeting this morning. He dropped me off here on his way,” Scully explains. “We took Will over to his grandma’s last night.”
Skinner nods. Linda has a meeting today, too.
“So what’s for dinner tonight?” Scully asks.
“Let’s see what’s good,” Skinner says, and they roam around the booths of fresh fruits and vegetables, herbs, and various other food items displayed like jewels in a showcase window.
He’d consulted with Linda about what to have with the London broil he plans to grill, and she suggested some things. He buys a little of everything she suggested. There’s late corn, and baby eggplant; onions, carrots, and small red potatoes. He also selects a couple of squatty-looking squash, streaked yellow and green.
Scully looks at him with some amusement. “Are you planning to cook all those for tonight, Walter? How many people are coming?”
“It’ll just be the four of us,” he says, and then realizes that the cat is out of the bag.
Scully raises her eyebrows.
“Do you have time for coffee before you have to meet Mulder?” he asks before Scully can say anything.
“Plenty of time,” Scully says. “He won’t be done until at least noon. In fact, I hoped you’d be able to drop me home when we’re through here.”
“No problem,” Skinner says.
They make their last purchases. He waits while Scully selects a couple of mixed bouquets. The vendor winks at him. “Make the missus buy her own, huh?”
Skinner is sure he has turned bright red at the implication. He is almost afraid to glance at Scully, but she takes it in stride. She simply smiles at the man as she gets her change and turns toward Skinner. “Used to happen to Mulder and me all the time,” she said.
“Does it still?” he asks curiously. “Happen, I mean.”
“Well, it’s not incorrect any more,” she says. She smiles to herself and says, barely loud enough for Skinner to hear, “It never really was.”
They put their purchases in Skinner’s car and Scully leads the way to a coffee shop not far from the farmer’s market. It’s not a Starbuck’s, but an eclectic neighborhood hangout, filled with the smell of roasting beans and chock-a-block with coffee and tea accessories and gift items. Skinner makes note of this. Linda would like this place, he thinks. I’ll have to bring her here.
He’s noticed he’s been doing that a lot lately: thinking of Linda when he sees or hears something, wondering whether or not she’d appreciate whatever it is, and making a mental note to tell her. And when he does tell her, he finds that he’s judged her reaction correctly, most of the time. They have an appreciation for many of the same things.
It scares him and warms him in about equal parts, he thinks.
After they’ve gotten their orders, they find a table outside and sit in companionable silence for a bit. A year ago, Skinner would never have believed that he’d find himself sitting having coffee with Scully like this. A year ago, Scully was still on maternity leave, and he hadn’t talked to either her or Mulder since just after Will’s birth.
He hasn’t spent much time with Scully at all since she started her maternity leave. He misses working with her and talking with her. It was only after Mulder was taken that he realized Scully trusted him. He’d been glad to be there for her, and even though it had been under the most dire of circumstances, they’d grown close. Joined in their mutual quest, they’d found strength in each other.
Once Mulder had returned and was himself again, Skinner felt himself in excess of requirements. After several months of watching over Scully, feeling himself her protector and confidant, he’d felt bereft. He understood Scully’s withdrawal, and he was as happy as she was that Mulder was back. But he missed her.
Even after Scully returned to work, he’d barely seen her. She spent most of her time at Quantico and he rarely made an excuse to go there.
Scully had been the one to take the first step, even though Mulder had made the call. Little by little, after that first call, he’s found himself more a part of their lives than he’d ever been when they’d been his subordinates at the Bureau.
For the moment, whatever dark forces were at work before Scully’s child was born seem to be in abeyance. Skinner doesn’t trust this; he’s pretty sure that it could change in a heartbeat. But he takes his cue from Mulder and Scully. They are trying to have as normal a life as it’s possible to have while being constantly vigilant. Skinner is keeping his eyes and ears open; he always has. But on days like this, it’s almost possible to forget the danger and fear that always lurks around the corner.
“Penny for your thoughts, Walter,” Scully says.
“I was just thinking about the way things were before, and how they are now,” Skinner says. “This is the longest stretch of `normal’ I’ve had in my life for years.”
“Is Kersh staying off your back?”
Skinner grimaces. “Not really, thanks for reminding me. He’s just gotten a little more subtle, and I think at the moment he’s being cautious. He’s not the mastermind, I’m pretty sure. He’s just another puppet. A highly-placed one, but a puppet all the same. He’s got to wait for orders, and I guess none have been forthcoming.”
“It’s a different game now,” Scully says. “It’s harder to know who’s on what side. It’s always been hard to know whom to trust, but this is different.” She pauses, seeming to pick her words carefully. “What did Mulder say Krycek told you? We have no idea how deep it goes?”
“I think Mulder has known or suspected just how deep, for years. That’s why he tried so hard to stay in the FBI for so long. But he was right not to fight his dismissal. It was a tactical error on Kersh’s part, or whoever’s controlling him. They have much less oversight now than they did.”
“I wonder if we’ll ever find out who’s really behind this,” Scully says somberly.
“We just have to keep trying, Scully,” he says, and then realizes what he’s called her.
“Yes, sir,” she says right back, still looking very serious. She stirs her coffee absently, looking off into the middle distance. “I’m sorry to have spoiled the mood.”
Skinner touches her hand to get her to look at him. “It’s okay. It’s never very far away. I’m trying to learn to take each moment as it comes.”
Scully does smile at this, albeit a little sadly. “I’m still working on that, myself,” she says. She holds him with her honest blue eyes and he waits, wondering what she’s gathering herself to say. “Before we change the subject, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
Skinner waits, completely mystified and not a little apprehensive.
“I never had a chance to say thank you, Walter,” she says. “Or, more properly, I guess I should say I never tried to thank you.”
Skinner feels uncomfortable. He doesn’t want thanks. He still carries the burden of his mistakes, of the gambles he’s made and lost. He doesn’t feel he deserves gratitude for anything. Nonetheless, he remains silent. If Dana Scully feels the need to say something, he’ll listen. It won’t change how he feels, but he’ll do it for her. He owes her. He looks at her and waits.
She was looking away from him again but now she meets his gaze, clear and blue and piercing. She looked like that any number of times in the past couple of years: fearless and determined. She says, “I need to thank you for Mulder’s life. And for my own. And for believing us, even when I doubted you.”
He shakes his head. “I almost killed him, Dana. And if I hadn’t lost him in the first place, maybe none of it would have happened.”
“Walter.” That’s a tone he hasn’t heard for a long time, and when he has heard it, it was usually addressed to Mulder. “You are not to blame for that. Mulder would have done what he did, whether you were there or not. You couldn’t have stopped him. *I* couldn’t have stopped him. He told me. It happened so fast. And, I believe that They would have taken him, no matter what.”
He starts to speak again, but she forestalls him. “And you will not blame yourself for taking Mulder off life support, no matter what your reasons were at the time. If you hadn’t thought to have him exhumed,” here Scully has to pause because a sob catches in her throat, “he wouldn’t have been there at all.”
This is not the conversation he intended to have with Scully this morning. He’d only wanted to tell her about Linda. Now he realizes that Scully hadn’t withdrawn from him, he’d withdrawn from her, probably to avoid conversations like this. When he talks with Mulder, they can couch their meanings in frivolous words, words that don’t cut quite so deep. But Scully will always get to the heart of the matter. It may end up having a salutary effect in the long run, but while it’s happening, it’s very painful.
She’s not through yet, either. “You’ve shut yourself away for too long, Walter, and you’ve tried to shoulder your responsibilities alone. I don’t know why you decided to believe us and to help us, but I thank God that you did. I know how often you’ve saved Mulder’s ass, Sir,” she says, unconsciously slipping into her familiar address,”and I know you’ve saved mine, too.”
“What did Mulder tell you?” Skinner demands.
“Nothing. He told me nothing. I just started to piece things together. I asked Mulder, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. I think he wanted to, because he’s as bad as you are about accepting gratitude.” She adds, “and I know the price you’ve had to pay.”
“It’s done now, Scully,” Skinner says. “It’s in the past. The price was paid with Krycek’s death.” That’s another subject he doesn’t really want to discuss right now. “If I accept your thanks, will you promise me you’ll never bring this up again?”
“Well, we’ll see,” Scully says. “But at least for now, it’s a deal, Walter.” She gives him a big smile this time, and puts her small, soft hand over his. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Skinner says, and to try and inject a little lightness in the conversation, he adds, “Just remember what you owe me the next time Wayne Federman’s in town.”
Scully rolls her eyes. “Now who’s dredging up the past? Aren’t you the tiniest bit embarrassed by that awful movie?”
“Do you think I’d admit it if I was? I was the envy of the FBI.” Scully blushes and lowers her eyes, which makes him happy for some reason. “I’m just lucky Kersh wasn’t Deputy Director at the time. I am sorry if it caused you any embarrassment, though.”
“Except for finding out I was the subject of a new office pool, it didn’t have much effect on me,” she says with a shrug and a grimace. “You knew about that, right?”
Skinner knows he has a sheepish look on his face. “I tried to get Kimberly to help me stop it, but once those things get started…”
“Believe me, Walter, I know. But it’s too bad it had to involve you. Federman really could have caused a problem for you by putting that line in the movie.”
end of Part One; conclusion in Part Two.
========== 10/19/01 Skinman4:Clearing the Air (2 of 2) by ML
disclaimers, etc. in Part One.
He’s not sure it’s a good idea to admit it, but he might as well get it out in the open, since they’ve been dealing with uncomfortable subjects this morning. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I guess I had a little crush on you for a while,” he says. “It never went beyond that, and I certainly never said a thing to anyone. But Federman has a way of seeing stuff that no one else sees, especially in me. That’s why he did what he did in the movie. He thought it would make me happy.”
Somehow they’ve veered back into serious territory, and once again it’s his fault. Scully appears to be at a loss for words. He’s not sure what he expected from her: maybe anger, or shock, or incredulity, but he can’t really tell what she’s thinking or feeling. Finally she asks neutrally, “Did it make you happy?”
“No, in fact, it pissed me off,” Skinner says. “I would have said something, but how do you bring something like that up?”
Scully nods and doesn’t speak again right away. She’s avoiding his eyes, which is unlike her. When she speaks again, she’s chosen to take a lighter tone. “Well, I think I understand the Bureau credit card thing now,” Scully says.
Skinner nods, relieved. “I felt sorry for getting you both involved in the thing, and I was especially feeling sorry for Mulder that night. Of the three of us, his character on screen was made to look the most ridiculous. At least, he seemed the most bothered by it.”
“Well, you know how he feels about his work,” Scully points out. “I think he felt it was being trivialized, not being taken seriously. As usual.”
“So for Mulder, the movie would’ve had to be a documentary to make him happy,” Skinner ventures.
Scully smiles a little. “And, likely as not, no one would have watched it. Though I guess the net result is the same. Even Richard Gere couldn’t save `The Lazarus Bowl’ from oblivion, though the Gunmen say it has a kind of cult following on the Internet. It’s not the publicity that bothered Mulder. It’s the inaccuracies.” She sips her coffee. “You know, Mulder actually enjoyed being on `Cops’, I think. Even if the case was inconclusive.”
“Funny you should mention that. Federman *did* get in touch with me again not long ago,” Skinner tells her. “He has a friend who wants to pitch some sort of real-life paranormal show to one of the networks. He’s been looking for a host, someone who has some experience in the paranormal, but who also has some camera appeal. Do you think…”
Scully says before he could even finish, “Don’t even think it, Walter. Don’t mention it to Mulder, just forget about it.”
Skinner feels a little hurt. “He was actually asking me if *I’d* be interested.”
Scully has the grace to blush. “Oh.” She looks down and stirs her coffee. “Is it something you’d be interested in doing?” she asks diplomatically.
“I don’t know,” he says. “Though pissing off Kersh has a certain appeal.”
“You could probably kiss your retirement goodbye,” Scully says.
He nods. He can’t believe they’re talking about this at all. He’s already told Federman no. “But if the show was a success, I wouldn’t need it.”
“True.” Scully’s back to stirring her coffee again and not looking at him. He knows why.
“Dana,” he says, and then, “Scully…I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable about — what I said, before. It really is not a problem. It’s in the past. I want you to know, even when Mulder was gone, I would never –”
Scully puts her hand on his arm. “Walter, I know. I guess maybe I even knew, or suspected, a little. But it’s not the sort of thing that I could ever have considered, even idly. Not just because of Mulder, and certainly not because I’m not, I wasn’t — even if what we — what I –” she sighs. “What I’m trying to say is, I needed your friendship, your support, too much to even consider anything else. Even when it looked like Mulder was really gone, gone for good, I –” she stops again, floundering a little. He thinks he can see tears in her eyes. Even after all this time and the happy outcome, it’s hard for her to talk about Mulder’s death.
It’s not often he has seen Dana Scully so flustered. He realizes that it’s not only because of Mulder, but because of what he said. The last thing he wants is to make Dana uncomfortable.
“It’s okay, Dana. You don’t have to say it.”
“Yes, I do. I’m flattered by what you said, Walter, and in other times, other circumstances, I might have … even,” she stops again, distressed. Skinner is suddenly sorry he brought it up.
“It’s done,” he reassures her. “It’s in the past, or I would never have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.” This is indeed true, and the confession has, for him anyway, wiped away any ghost of awkwardness he feels toward Scully. He wants to bring her the same ease.
“Don’t tell Mulder,” he says, keeping his face absolutely straight, hoping she gets it. “He’ll kick my ass.”
After a moment of shocked silence, Scully not only smiles, she giggles. She reaches out to put her hand over his on the table. She gives it just a little squeeze. “Thank you for telling me,” she says.
Relieved to have finally told her, and heartened by her words, Skinner has the courage to tell Scully what he started out to say in the first place. After the topics they’ve already covered this morning, this now seems like a piece of cake. “That’s not really what I wanted to tell you,” he says. “I wanted to let you know that I invited another guest to dinner tonight. Someone I’ve wanted you to meet for some time.”
Scully asks, “Is this the person you canceled basketball for last week?”
Skinner nods. “Her name is Belinda Kimberly. Linda for short. We’ve been dating for a little while now.”
“How long is a little while?” Scully asks.
“I met her at the beginning of summer. We’ve been out for coffee a couple of times, and lunch, and dinner.” He’s grateful that Scully doesn’t sound incredulous about this at all. He feared that. Mulder’s teasing he can take, but he depends on Scully, measures himself by her reaction.
“You don’t have to answer this, of course, but you know Mulder will ask,” Scully warns him. “Anything beyond dinner?”
Skinner shakes his head. “No. I don’t think we’re there yet.”
“Do you want to be?”
“Well, yes,” The words come out a little more emphatic than he wants. He tempers it by saying. “Eventually. When we’re both ready.”
“I’m glad for you, Walter,” Scully says softly, laying her hand on his arm.
He’s sure it’s genuine. What Mulder’s reaction will be he’s less sure of. He knows he’ll be in for some teasing. He’s getting used to it, but there is something that he hopes that Mulder won’t get wind of. He made it a joke before, but he says it seriously this time.
“Dana, I hope you won’t share what I told you before … I mean before I told you about Linda … with Mulder.” It was hard enough to say it the first time; he doesn’t want to repeat himself. But Dana Scully is very good at reading between the lines.
“Walter, your secret is safe with me. Believe it or not, I don’t tell Mulder everything.” She looks down at the dregs of her coffee. “But I’m pretty sure he already knows.”
Skinner nods; he’s familiar with Mulder’s territorial behavior. He wonders if he could ever feels as strongly about anyone as these two feel about each other. It’s not fair to compare his situation with theirs; Mulder and Scully have known each other for years and have undergone incredible hardships together to forge such a bond. Maybe he doesn’t even have the right to wish for it. Maybe he shouldn’t even contemplate a relationship…
He’s suddenly aware that Scully is looking at him strangely. “Walter, what on earth are you thinking about? I promise you, I won’t tell Mulder, and I won’t even let him tease you about Linda…”
“It’s not that,” Skinner assures her. “Well, not really, but I just don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“How I feel about Linda. How she feels about me. If it’s ever right to pursue any kind of a relationship with so much uncertainty about the future.”
“I don’t think you can know, Walter,” Scully says. “Some things you just have to take on faith.”
“How do you know?” Skinner persists. “How do you know it’s really love? I haven’t known her for very long, only a couple of months, but somehow I feel that we’ve just clicked. I think she feels it, too.”
“Well, don’t go by my experiences, Walter,” Scully says. “I’m no expert, but I do think that long courtships are the exception rather than the rule.”
“Yours was certainly the exception,” Skinner says. Just about everyone but Mulder and Scully seemed to see the attraction between the two of them, years before they acted on it.
“It wasn’t entirely by choice, you know,” Scully says. “My point is that I’m not a good example. But I also don’t think that falling in love has to be an ordeal. Maybe hardships in other parts of your life allow you to be open to this now. Maybe you’re just ready.”
Skinner asks, “Do you believe in balance? That the universe has a — a yin and yang, for lack of a better term? That something bad will be balanced by something good?”
Scully thinks for a long time about this question. He can see the changes in her face as she mulls it over.
“If you had asked me a couple of years ago, I might have said no. But even then there were mitigating circumstances. I think Mulder has always believed it. And eventually, I came to believe it, too. There is a balance. You just can’t always see it, and sometimes, you have to help it along, find ways to bring the scales back to true.” She smiles a small, almost secret, smile. “You can’t always leave it all to fate.”
“Tell me this is none of my business if you want,” Skinner continues. “I realize that you and Mulder weren’t, weren’t…”
“A couple?” Dana supplies. “For years, partners, yes. A couple, no. Despite the rumors.”
Skinner nods. “But did you always know how you felt? Or did something change for you?”
“I can answer yes to both,” she says. “I knew for a long time how I felt, and I was pretty sure I knew how Mulder felt, too. But I, at least, was afraid. And sometimes my fears seemed well-founded.”
“What changed for you? What finally brought you together? Did you stop being afraid?”
“I don’t think I will ever stop being afraid.” She smiles her secret smile. “But one day I decided it was time to stop letting my fears rule me. I realized that my fears were holding me back, keeping us apart. And we both seemed to realize it at the same time. We decided that we had to live our lives. That if we didn’t, They’d win.”
Skinner doesn’t have to ask who “They” are.
“My turn to ask you,” Scully says now. “Did you have strong feelings for Linda right away? Or have they grown on you?”
“A little of both,” he admits. “I met her, and we just started to talk about things. Like we’d known each other for a long time. It’s been that way every time we’ve seen each other, a little more so each time. I feel like I’ve known her for years, and yet it’s only been this summer.”
“Have you told her what you’re feeling?”
“Not yet.”
“Does she feel the same way you do?”
He nods. “I think so. But the only way I’ll know for sure is to ask.”
“Don’t wait too long to ask her, Walter.”
“I won’t,” he promises.
They smile at each other. Scully looks at her watch. “Do you realize that it’s almost noon?”
“I guess I’d better get you home before Mulder thinks I’ve run off with you,” Skinner teases. He can’t believe he’s teasing Scully, and her response back makes him laugh out loud.
“Nah,” she says. “Mulder knows I can kick your ass.”
As she gets out of the car at home, Scully leans close to Skinner. “Thank you for saying what you did earlier,” she whispers in his ear. She also gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek, then presses her own cheek against his for long seconds.
“You’re welcome,” he says back, and turns away, feeling lighter hearted than when he started out this morning. The chill of the morning has become a crisp afternoon, and he drives on, letting himself feel happy for this moment, no matter what happened before, or what might happen in the future.
end.
Thanks for reading!