Title: The Pain Within: Part III
Author: Non Fat Tofutti Rice Dreamicle
Rating: PG
Category: Scully-Centric, Scully/Skinner
Spoilers: None but some referencing to events of This Is Not Happening. Summary: It's amazing how concentrating on a single flame can clear your thoughts.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Twentieth Century Fox in association with 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. No copyright infringement is intended.
Feedback: Will be loved and cherished send to mulders_sidekick@hotmail.com
The evening had drawn in and she sat in front of the fire starring at the cup of coffee her mom had made. Mrs. Scully had set the fire in hope that some of the heat might warm her daughter from the cold of grief.
The doorbell disturbed her thoughts yet she didn't even need to look up; she knew mom would get it. The faint whispers from the porch filtered through to her ears but she didn't pay attention to them for she knew what would be in the encrypted murmurs. She returned her attention to the cup that was now lukewarm.
Food and drink had become irrelevant. Mom would pester and force some kind of nutrition in front of her in the hope she would consume it but it was always left untouched. What little she did eat was for her baby - her one last link to him. She wasn't stupid enough to do anything that would sacrifice that.
A hand fell upon her right shoulder that made her jump back to reality.
"Dana." Margaret said with her motherly tone, "Assistant Director Skinner is here, what do you want me to say?"
Scully covered her mother's hand with her own and turned to look at her with compassion and a slight smile, "Its okay mom".
Skinner was waiting in the hallway paying intricate detail to the wall decoration. He had been dreading the journey over here but he had to know how she was and he wanted the news that he had to come from him. Mrs. Scully approached and showed him to the living room. As he entered, he saw her outline in the chair facing the fire, blanket draped over the lower part of her body and her right hand resting on the arm of the chair.
"Please sit down Mr. Skinner" Margaret interrupted his moment but he obliged and sat on the couch to the side of her chair. "May I get you a drink?" she asked politely and in the same courteous tone he refused the offer. Margaret simply smiled and departed to the kitchen where she had been previously. Skinner sat there looking at Scully while she seemed preoccupied with the dancing of the flames. Both wanted the other to speak first but it ended up with the initial words coming out of her mouth.
"Its amazing how concentrating on a single flame can clear your thoughts" she said almost trance like.
This made him wonder how long she had been sitting there deconstructing the fire. She shifted her bodyweight to face him.
"Its good to see you, sir" she said, more conservative and in a tone she normally used to talk to him. This brought some concern to him. 'She's trying to act normal' he thought 'Stop Dana'. He looked briefly down to his hands before he spoke.
"I wanted to see how you were."
"Coping?" she finished his sentence and gave the momentary smile. "I'm fine." she trailed off slightly in a moment of reflection.
Her concentration shifted to her hand where she used her fingertips to sweep the arm of the chair, something she would do again and again during the next few minutes. Skinner waited for another minute or two, and then prompted her gently when it became clear that she was lost in self- absorption.
"Dana?" his voice came across the vast stretches of space.
"Sorry Sir, I." but she didn't have to finish for she knew he understood.
"I was torn between A and B this evening" he began, "wondering whether I should wait until tomorrow to tell you". The words were beginning to get stuck in his throat. It was her turn to rescue him.
"Sir? Tell me what?"
He had to do it; he had to turn on his AD switch if he was to get through the next couple of sentences.
"I had a meeting with Deputy Director Kersh this morning" he paused "with reference to Mulder". She flinched at the mention of his name but he continued. "And the organisation of his burial. With Mulder having no surviving immediate family, the question that arose is who to sign the body over to." He was silent for a moment. He had kept his composure until now but it was beginning to break. "I.I spoke on your behalf" a hint of panic entered his voice because he knew she had never asked him to, "I enquired about having the body signed over to you." He stopped for he noticed her reaction. He began to beat himself up internally 'I should have waited' he repeated in his head.
At the mention of Mulder's name, she clamped her hand over her mouth because the tears were flooding her throat.
Skinner slid slowly off the couch and onto his knees next to her side. She couldn't glance at him although he was looking at her intensely. He leaned in so that only whispers could be heard and before he rose, he left her with one lingering thought "He's yours".
Once on his feet, he walked through the arch, which lead to the front door. Faced with exit, he noticed the small table that he had stood in front of not 20 minutes ago and reached into his jacket pocket. From it, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it cleanly next to the flower vase, catching one last glimpse of the distraught agent.
He left unnoticed.
To be continued. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Author: Non Fat Tofutti Rice Dreamicle
Rating: PG
Category: Scully-Centric, Scully/Skinner
Spoilers: None but some referencing to events of This Is Not Happening. Summary: It's amazing how concentrating on a single flame can clear your thoughts.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Twentieth Century Fox in association with 1013 Productions and Chris Carter. No copyright infringement is intended.
Feedback: Will be loved and cherished send to mulders_sidekick@hotmail.com
The evening had drawn in and she sat in front of the fire starring at the cup of coffee her mom had made. Mrs. Scully had set the fire in hope that some of the heat might warm her daughter from the cold of grief.
The doorbell disturbed her thoughts yet she didn't even need to look up; she knew mom would get it. The faint whispers from the porch filtered through to her ears but she didn't pay attention to them for she knew what would be in the encrypted murmurs. She returned her attention to the cup that was now lukewarm.
Food and drink had become irrelevant. Mom would pester and force some kind of nutrition in front of her in the hope she would consume it but it was always left untouched. What little she did eat was for her baby - her one last link to him. She wasn't stupid enough to do anything that would sacrifice that.
A hand fell upon her right shoulder that made her jump back to reality.
"Dana." Margaret said with her motherly tone, "Assistant Director Skinner is here, what do you want me to say?"
Scully covered her mother's hand with her own and turned to look at her with compassion and a slight smile, "Its okay mom".
Skinner was waiting in the hallway paying intricate detail to the wall decoration. He had been dreading the journey over here but he had to know how she was and he wanted the news that he had to come from him. Mrs. Scully approached and showed him to the living room. As he entered, he saw her outline in the chair facing the fire, blanket draped over the lower part of her body and her right hand resting on the arm of the chair.
"Please sit down Mr. Skinner" Margaret interrupted his moment but he obliged and sat on the couch to the side of her chair. "May I get you a drink?" she asked politely and in the same courteous tone he refused the offer. Margaret simply smiled and departed to the kitchen where she had been previously. Skinner sat there looking at Scully while she seemed preoccupied with the dancing of the flames. Both wanted the other to speak first but it ended up with the initial words coming out of her mouth.
"Its amazing how concentrating on a single flame can clear your thoughts" she said almost trance like.
This made him wonder how long she had been sitting there deconstructing the fire. She shifted her bodyweight to face him.
"Its good to see you, sir" she said, more conservative and in a tone she normally used to talk to him. This brought some concern to him. 'She's trying to act normal' he thought 'Stop Dana'. He looked briefly down to his hands before he spoke.
"I wanted to see how you were."
"Coping?" she finished his sentence and gave the momentary smile. "I'm fine." she trailed off slightly in a moment of reflection.
Her concentration shifted to her hand where she used her fingertips to sweep the arm of the chair, something she would do again and again during the next few minutes. Skinner waited for another minute or two, and then prompted her gently when it became clear that she was lost in self- absorption.
"Dana?" his voice came across the vast stretches of space.
"Sorry Sir, I." but she didn't have to finish for she knew he understood.
"I was torn between A and B this evening" he began, "wondering whether I should wait until tomorrow to tell you". The words were beginning to get stuck in his throat. It was her turn to rescue him.
"Sir? Tell me what?"
He had to do it; he had to turn on his AD switch if he was to get through the next couple of sentences.
"I had a meeting with Deputy Director Kersh this morning" he paused "with reference to Mulder". She flinched at the mention of his name but he continued. "And the organisation of his burial. With Mulder having no surviving immediate family, the question that arose is who to sign the body over to." He was silent for a moment. He had kept his composure until now but it was beginning to break. "I.I spoke on your behalf" a hint of panic entered his voice because he knew she had never asked him to, "I enquired about having the body signed over to you." He stopped for he noticed her reaction. He began to beat himself up internally 'I should have waited' he repeated in his head.
At the mention of Mulder's name, she clamped her hand over her mouth because the tears were flooding her throat.
Skinner slid slowly off the couch and onto his knees next to her side. She couldn't glance at him although he was looking at her intensely. He leaned in so that only whispers could be heard and before he rose, he left her with one lingering thought "He's yours".
Once on his feet, he walked through the arch, which lead to the front door. Faced with exit, he noticed the small table that he had stood in front of not 20 minutes ago and reached into his jacket pocket. From it, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it cleanly next to the flower vase, catching one last glimpse of the distraught agent.
He left unnoticed.
To be continued. *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~